The Border Hostage (22 page)

“Raven, focus on me. Suspend your will, my love, and yield your inner self to me. Listen to my words and do as they bid you.”

She did listen. She heard his gentleness and his kindness, but she also heard his determination and his power.

“Open your mind and let me come inside. I am giving you no choice in the matter. Repeat the sacred wedding vows after me.”

She felt vulnerable and helpless, and completely in his power. In a trancelike state, she promised to love, honor, and obey him, and heard the priest pronounce them man and wife.

Heath swept her up in possessive arms and strode up the stairs to their tower. He put her in his wide bed, slipped in beside her, and pulled her into his powerful arms. “You must merge with me, Raven. Yield your will to me, just for tonight.”

She laughed up into his dark face, feeling happier than she had ever felt in her life. “Darling Heath, thank you for forcing me to wed you. It took all the responsibility out of my hands and gave me my heart's desire.” She lifted her mouth for his kiss. His mouth on hers felt glorious. She had never experienced anything to equal the deep pleasure she received from the touch and the taste of him. When he enfolded her in possessive arms and pressed his hard body against hers, she thought she might die of joy.

“You are dreaming, Raven.”

“I know I am dreaming, you devil.” But suddenly, Raven did not feel like she was dreaming. Was it possible that she was awake? She could not tell what was real and what was imagined. She knew she was in bed in Heath Kennedy's arms, and the last thing she remembered was marrying him!

“Close your eyes, Raven, and let sleep take you back to your dreams. It isn't yet morning and the effects of the poppy will lull you back to slumber if you remain still and quiet.”

Her eyelids were indeed heavy and sleep beckoned her. She felt warm and safe and exceedingly grateful that her hands were without pain. She took a deep breath and relaxed against him. Her cheek rested against Heath's chest, and his heartbeat lulled her back to sleep. This time, however, it was peaceful and dreamless.

When Raven awoke in the morning, she was alone in the bed. Her mind was filled with questions about the night, but she was reticent about asking them when he brought their breakfast, because she was afraid of the answers. Heath fed her, then selected a wide-sleeved blue gown for her to wear. She had no choice but to let him dress her, but he did it in a way that allowed her to preserve a modicum of modesty. Then he unwrapped the bandages from her hands.

“They are much improved, Raven. I am going to wash off the ointment and coat them with a mixture of honey and balm, then rebandage them. Two more days might be all they will need.”

She saw that her fingers were no longer black, and the blisters were gone, though her palms were still red and tender. As Heath bathed her fingers and palms, then coated them with the soothing honey and herb mixture, she focused on his hands. They were beautiful hands, strong and capable, yet so gentle it brought a lump to her throat. When her bandages were in place, he picked up the hairbrush and, with long, rhythmic strokes, untangled
her curls. She closed her eyes at the sensual pleasure it brought her, and broke her silence. “I dreamed that you compelled me to marry you.” “Yes, I know.”

“How could you possibly know my dreams?”

“You thanked me for forcing you to wed me. You said it took all the responsibility out of your hands.”

So, you did sleep with me … I did awaken in your arms!

“You wouldn't really force me to wed you?” she whispered.

“I won't lie to you, Raven. It is a distinct possibility. You know that I want you for my woman, and I cannot deny that a forced marriage has much to recommend it.”

F
reedom is the most precious commodity on earth. Without freedom, my life would be meaningless. If you forced me to wed you, Heath Kennedy, I would hate you forever!”

“Raven, there is such a fine line between hate and love, I am quite willing to take the gamble.”

“You are so damned cocksure of yourself and your powers of persuasion. Why don't you give me the choice of staying or leaving?” she challenged.

Heath set the brush down and turned her to face him. “If you will give me a week to woo you, I
will
give you the choice.”

She searched his dark face, trying to discern just what he meant by wooing. Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo and her blood warmed perceptibly as it flowed through her veins. He meant wooing in every sense of the word, with no barriers between them and no holds barred, and she wondered wildly what it would be like to have Heath Kennedy make love to her and teach her about passion. Was she
woman enough to take up his challenge? She wavered on the brink. He had promised to give her the choice of staying or leaving if she agreed, and she knew instinctively it was the only way he would ever let her go. “Three days,” she bargained. “I will allow you to woo me for three days.”

Heath's dark eyes gleamed. “Three days it is, but they will start after your hands have healed for two more days. I don't want you to accuse me of taking advantage of you, my beauty. In two days you should be up to a rough wooing.” He winked and his white teeth flashed in a smile that showed his supreme male confidence.

When Rob Kennedy rapped impatiently on the door in Carlisle's Rickergate, Lady Kennedy's maid, Kirsty, opened it and almost fainted when she saw it was the irascible Lord of Galloway. He pushed past her immediately, treating her like a nonentity as always.

“Her ladyship is indisposed,” Kirsty whispered timidly.

“She
will
be indisposed when I'm done wi' her,” Rob bellowed, and had the satisfaction of watching Kirsty flee in trepidation. He rolled into Elizabeth's sitting room like a barrel of whisky down a gangplank, his face congested with fury, and his salt and cayenne pepper hair standing in sparse tufts. “Lizzie, Carlisle has been an accursed place tae me since I set foot in it, tae come courting ye. The bloody English have burned ma vessel, the
Galloway
, along wi' her precious fleeces. This is the last time Carlisle will ever see me or mine again!”

“Oh, Rob, that is terrible,” Elizabeth murmured.

“I'll tell ye what's terrible, Lizzie, a willful wife who doesna honor an' obey her lord! This is an ultimatum, Lizzie. The choice is yers: Ye can come or ye can stay, I don't much care either way. But young Beth comes wi' me, and if ye choose tae stay, ye'll never see her nor any of the childer again.”

Elizabeth felt faint and nauseated; her husband always
had this effect upon her when he exercised his authority. Her hand fluttered to her throat and she closed her eyes to block out the fearsome picture he made. “I … I think it best I come home.”

“Home? I said naught about goin' home, woman. As soon as Duncan buys us another vessel, we're sailin' tae Kirkcudbright tae see Donal, then Valentina. Ye're an unnatural mother, Lizzie. Ye shouldha bin wi' Valentina while she had the wee bairn. There's bin no word, an' I'm worritin' mysel tae death aboot it!” He looked about the chamber and bellowed, “Where's Beth?”

“I'm here, Father.” Beth had known of his arrival from the first word he uttered, but his grating voice had rendered her paralyzed until summoned.

“Tell that Kirsty woman tae pack yer bags. There'll be no betrothals tae no bloody Englishmen, Dacre or otherwise!”

Though Beth was vastly relieved about Chris Dacre, her heart did yearn for another handsome young Englishman by the name of Heron Carleton. But she decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and kept her mouth wisely closed.

Five miles north at Rockcliffe Manor, Heron Carleton thought fleetingly of pretty Beth Kennedy and was tempted to visit Carlisle. His mother placed an obstacle in his path, however, when she said, “I wonder how Raven is faring with my mother. I believe it is time that you visited your grandmother, Heron; you have neglected her shamefully this past year.”

“She takes as little interest in me as I take in her, Mother. It is Raven whom she dotes upon,” Heron objected.

Kate Carleton could think of nothing but Raven and how she was progressing with Christopher Dacre. Her daughter had been gone for only eight days, but to Kate it
felt like a month. “You need spend only a few hours with your grandmother, Heron, then you will be free to visit with your friend Chris Dacre at Bewcastle. The hunting in Kershope Forest is the best in the Borders. As well, I believe Raven will benefit from having her brother along as a sort of chaperon. It will remind Lord Dacre that Raven comes from a highly respectable family who will not tolerate dalliance.”

The mention of Bewcastle erased Heron's reluctance. He had always had ambitions to belong to a Border patrol as his mother's clan of Herons did. Even his father had started this way, before he had become constable of Carlisle Castle. His mother, however, had insisted he go to school in London and learn to be a gentleman. Heron had met Christopher Dacre at Eton, and when his friend had gone to fight the Scots at Flodden, he had been green with envy. His mother, however, had put her foot down, insisting that her only son was far too young to fight in a bloody war against the uncivilized Scots. When Heron got to Bewcastle, he fervently hoped that Chris Dacre would take him on a Border patrol.

Heron timed his visit so that he would arrive at Blackpool Gate in the late afternoon. That way he would only have to spend one evening with dotty Dame Doris, before moving on to Bewcastle the next morning. When his grandmother told him that Christopher Dacre had taken Raven for a visit to the great English Border fortress, he readily agreed to take the baggage his sister had carelessly left behind. By the sound of things, Heron deduced that he and his friend Chris would be brothers-in-law before the year was out.

As Heath had predicted, Raven's hands were healed enough to leave off the bandages after two more days of coating them with honey and balm. She was vastly relieved to be able to use her hands again to bathe and dress and feed herself, for the closeness which had grown between
her and Heath when he had done these intimate things for her evoked a longing she could no longer suppress. Now that she was healed, she knew his wooing would begin in earnest, and Raven wondered wildly what she would do if she succumbed to his dark, potent persuasion. It was the first time that she had admitted to herself that such a thing was within the realm of possibility, and she knew she must guard her heart with every fiber of her being.

Raven was glad that when she had awakened before dawn, Heath was gone from the tower. Early today they were riding to Hawick for the wedding of Queen Margaret Tudor to Ramsay's cousin, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. While Heath was tending his mares, Raven would take her bath, then pack a bag. They were not staying away overnight, because Valentina would not leave the twins that long, but Raven had decided to pack the gown she would wear at the wedding and ride there in her own red and black riding dress.

She swore beneath her breath as she heard Heath enter the outer chamber of the tower, and hastily reached for the drying cloth.

“Raven, are you ready yet? I've saddled Sully for you …” His voice trailed away as he walked into the adjoining room and caught sight of her in the bathing tub. He moved with the swiftness of a predator after its prey, grabbing the towel that she had just picked up. It stretched between them as they both vied for possession, but Heath managed to snare the coveted cloth.

“You wicked devil; I desire my privacy every bit as much as I desire my freedom!”

“Speak not of desire, Raven; it would be sheer folly at this moment.” Her wet skin was translucent as if it had been dusted by powdered pearls. Her lashes were black, tipped with gold, over eyes that changed from blue to lavender to deep purple. Her nose was small, yet her nostrils flared sensually, as if they caught his scent and found it disturbing. Her mouth was full and lusty, and colored
deepest rose. Her throat curved beautifully, drawing his eyes to lush breasts of alabaster, crowned by buds of dark rose, the color of her mouth. “I'll dry you,” he said hoarsely.

“I will dry myself,” she said firmly.

His teeth flashed. “With what, my beauty? You will have to walk about naked for long minutes if you would have the air dry you. You allowed me to dry you yesterday, why not today?”

“Yesterday my hands were bandaged.”

“Your bandages were your protection; they had me at a complete disadvantage.”

“When I am naked, you have me at a complete disadvantage!”

Heath grinned. “I know. If I'd thrown all your clothes through the tower window and kept you naked all week, we'd be wed by now.”

“Cocksure devil! We will
never
be wed. You delude yourself that I burn for your touch and long for your kisses, when in reality you have no effect upon me whatsoever.”

“If that is the truth, Raven, you can have no objection to my drying you.” He moved purposefully toward her and lifted her from the water, wrapping her in the soft linen. He drew her close and gazed down into her eyes. Then he dipped his head and tentatively brushed his lips against hers. When she opened her mouth, he stopped her protest with a deep kiss that was deliberately sensual.

Before he released her mouth, his hands began to circle across the linen that covered her curves. He dried her back in this manner, then his hands moved around to the front. He cupped her breasts on his palms and weighed them, then he splayed his fingers around them and caressed their lush fullness through the fine material. With his mouth, Heath caught the soft sounds she made, then he touched the corners of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

Again his hands moved behind her, but this time they
were much lower. He cupped her bottom cheeks through the linen and lifted her against the fullness of his erection. When she gasped, he took full possession of her soft mouth and kissed her thoroughly.

With his powerful hands upon her, Raven felt warm and wantonly weak. There was no question that his hard body responded to hers, but she knew she must stop hers from responding to his. She turned from him, though he still held her fast in his hands. Then she felt the full hard length of him pressed into the valley of her bottom cheeks, while he cupped her plump mons with the palm of his hand and began to circle and stroke her over the rough linen.