The Imposter (35 page)

“Against your
will?” I said incredulously.

“Nae, I’m just
teasing ye, lass.  But with all honesty, remember the next day when I came and
spoke with ye in the garden, when ye checked my shoulder?”

“Yes, of course I
remember that,” I said smiling as I thought back.  “You were pretending as
though it didn’t hurt very bad, trying to be all manly and tough and I could
tell that it hurt a lot more that you were willing to admit.”

“Well, maybe it
did hurt a bit more than I let on,” he smiled sheepishly.  “But when ye ran yer
wee fingers over my chest and ye looked at me sae intensely with those big blue
eyes, it took ever thread of composure that I had no tae kiss ye right then. 
Hell, I wanted tae do more than kiss ye, I wanted tae….”

“And here I
thought you were such a gentleman!” I interrupted, giggling at his admission
that he had been so attracted to me right from the very start.

I leaned my head
against his shoulder and looked into the fire, enjoying being close to Devon,
laughing and talking.

“I’m glad that I
jumped into the ocean.  Maybe I was meant to end up here, here with you,” I
said nostalgically as I watched the fire and toyed with the small hairs at the
base of his skull.

“I’m glad that it
happened too.  You’ve been the greatest gift of my life,” he said, leaning
forward and kissing me softly.  “I need ye, Kate.  I need tae ken that yer
safe, that yer whole,” he whispered, a growing sense of urgency in his deep
voice.

“I need you too,”
I whispered in response, kissing him back and pressing my body against the
length of his, matching his desire to come together as one. 

“I doona think
that I can be gentle, at least no the first time, and I’m sorry for that,” he
said, already rucking up my dress and moving his kilt out of the way, ravenous
with his need to be inside of me.

“I don’t want you
to be gentle,” I admitted, as crazed as he was to be joined together.  I needed
to feel him inside me to be sure that this was real, that we were both alive
and safe together.  I needed to know that he loved me still, even now that he
knew my secret.

Devon growled in
response and rolled me over so that I was on my hands and knees before him.  He
was inside me with one swift movement, the size of his pulsing manhood filling
me, stretching me.  He drove into me, holding my hips as he buried himself to
the hilt before pulling himself out and driving in again. 

I was wild with desire
and met his fervor with the rhythmic motion of my hips.  I felt Devon’s cock
pulse and spill his seed deep within me, spasms racking through his body as a
moan escaped his mouth.  His release spurred my own and I felt my body shatter
into a million pieces as I experienced wave after wave of intense orgasm.  Devon
collapsed above me and rolled onto the blanket, taking me with him.  The cool
night air felt wonderful against our overheated bodies, and we did not speak,
but lay wrapped in each other’s arms, passing a few moments in silence,
listening to our heartbeats gradually slow down.

“Are ye well?” he
whispered, bringing the edge of the blanket up to cover us from the chilly
night air.

“Better than
well,” I assured him, smiling in the dark.

“I lost control a
bit ye have a way of doing that tae me.  Did I hurt ye?” he asked, concerned.

“Not a bit.  I
liked it, I wanted it, needed it to be that way too.”

“Well, if that’s
the case and yer alright, I think I’m ready tae have another go at it,” he
smiled in the firelight, face just inches from mine.  “Slower, softer this
time, I want tae drive ye mad with desire.  I want tae enjoy ye,” he confessed.

“I don’t think
I’ll ever get enough of you,” I said honestly as I drew him closer and began to
gently rock my hips against him, spreading my knees wide so that he could
settle between them.  He was ready to make love again already and I felt
powerful knowing that I had such an affect upon him.  We made love again in the
glow of the fire and the moon, taking time to pleasure each other slowly and
thoroughly, delighting in the feeling of each other’s bodies. 

We stayed up way
too late, holding each other and basking in the glow of our lovemaking and the
warmth of the crackling fire.  The flames cast a magical glow on Devon’s face
as I answered his questions about what life had been like before I jumped into
the sea on that fateful night. 

There was such
freedom, such relief now that he knew my secret.  I felt as though a great
burden had been lifted from my shoulders, and that I could finally be myself,
my true self with the man that I loved.

We fell asleep,
exhausted by the day’s events and content with the trust that the disclosure of
my great secret had built between us.  We slept wrapped in each other’s arms
underneath Devon’s worn plaid and my last thought was of my father, stalking
me, tracking me and taking me from Devon.

                                                                
***

We rode onward for
two more days, all the while Devon asked questions about my previous life,and I
answered them eagerly, relishing that I could share my past with my husband. 
The only thing that stopped his onslaught of questions was his desire to kiss
me, and my desire to kiss him back. 

In our haste to
reach the Berkshire lands, we made love only one more time, in broad daylight
when the needs of our bodies became more than we could bear.  Devon again took
me fiercely and I responded to him in kind.  We both needed bodily assurance
that we were alive and together, our need consumed us.

On the second day
of our journey, we saw the Berkshire castle looming in the distance through the
hills.  Dread filled the pit of my stomach as I reconciled how I would tell
this family about the tragedy that had befallen their daughter.

Devon was ever
attentive and having felt my body tense as the castle came into view, he patted
my thigh.

“It will be
alright, lass,” he reassured me.  “When this is over, we can get on with our
lives.  These people deserve tae ken the truth about what happened tae their
daughter,” he said calmly, still stroking my leg, as he kicked the stallion
into a faster pace.

“I’m just not
looking forward to it, that’s all,” I confessed, feeling sick to my stomach by
the prospect of coming face to face with Catherine’s family.

“Neither am I, but
it’s something that we must do sae that she can be at peace,” he coaxed. 

 He was right,
Catherine deserved this.  She deserved to rest in peace.  Her parents deserved
to know what had happened to her. I felt an uncanny connection to the girl that
I had never known her face was seared into my memory, eyes open, skin pale in
death.  Would I have liked her, I wondered?  What would have happened had she
not been killed?  Would she have married Devon?  Thoughts whirled through my
mind.

We reached the Berkshire
castle and I was aware that our presence was greeted with great wariness.  Devon
dismounted the horse with me still in his arms, settling me carefully to the
ground.  I could tell that he was on edge, scanning the crowd that had gathered
upon our arrival for possible threats to our welfare.

“Take me tae Berkshire,”
Devon demanded sternly to the portly man who met our horse, his hand still
resting protectively on my shoulder.  He could be quite intimidating when he
wanted to.

“And whom may I
tell him is calling?” the man inquired. 

I noticed how the
buttons on his shirt strained when he spoke.  I looked away from the man and
stood closer to Devon, getting more nervous about the task ahead of us with
each passing moment.

“Devon McClain,
son of Laird Ethan McClain, and my wife Kate,” Devon responded.

The portly man
sized us up, eyes looking in disbelief from Devon to myself and then back to Devon
again. 

“Follow me,” he
instructed, starting up the stairs to the stone castle.  “Berkshire wasna
expecting ye tae bring her all the way tae the keep.  He will be caught off
guard,” the man said over his shoulder as we followed him up the steps and into
the castle.

We followed the
man to an enormous set of double doors, where he abruptly stopped.  “Wait
here,” he ordered, before disappearing between the doors and closing them
heavily behind him. 

A moment later,
the great doors opened and I knew right away that the couple standing before us
was Catherine’s parents. They were older than I expected, both having gray hair
and showing signs of their age.  Her mother was slender and pale, gray hair
knotted in a bun at the base of her neck.  Her frame was slight and her brown
eyes were immediately downcast when she saw me standing next to Devon. 

She knew.  She
knew already that he daughter was dead.

Berkshire was also
a small man, withered from age, but regal in his stature.  He was completely
bald on the top of his head with a circling of gray hair around his skull that
reminded me of my Grandfather.  His blue eyes were topped with bushy gray
eyebrows that were knitted together in disappointment when his gaze settled on
me.

“Follow me,” Berkshire
said, omitting a cordial greeting, turning on his heel and walking further into
the castle.  He made a swift left turn and beckoned us into a small library, closing
the door when we were all inside.  “Sit,” he said simply, outstretching a hand,
motioning towards the leather upholstered settee in from of a shelf brimming
with books.

Berkshire and his
wife remained standing.  She had taken to clinging to his arm for support.  I
could tell that her façade of strength was fading quickly.

“Where is my
daughter?” Berkshire asked, voice stern, catching audibly on the word
daughter.  He knew the answer to his question already.

“She’s dead,” Devon
said quietly, confirming Berkshire’s suspicion.

Mrs. Berkshire, in
took a swift breath and fell to her knees.

 “No!” she
screamed, crumpling to the floor.

Berkshire bent
down towards his wife, carefully pulling her to her feet, holding her against
his chest as she wept openly, sobs racking her small frame.  I turned away as
he whispered into her ear, consoling her.

 “Douglas!” he
called loudly, still holding his wife to his body.

The door opened
behind us and in walked a large man.  He strode over to Mrs. Berkshire and
peeled her gently away from her husband.  Arm encircling her as he held onto
her, supporting her, he moved slowly from the room, taking the sobbing mother
to grieve her daughter in peace.  The door closed quietly again, but the sound
of her muffled sobs broke my heart.

Berkshire cleared
his throat and turned away from us for a moment, collecting himself.  I could
tell that he was trying to be stoic, but from the perceptible change in his
breathing, I knew that the confirmation of his daughter’s death was a weighted
blow.  He cleared his throat again and turned around to continue his quest for
answers.

“When?” he asked,
needing to know the details of his daughter’s death to set him towards peace.

“She never made it
to Castle McClain.  Her coach was attacked just beyond our borders,” Devon
said, sympathy wringing in his voice.  “Her guard fought mightily, but was
overtaken by the attackers.  We found out later that it was the Camerons who
attacked her.  They have paid for their mistake dearly,” he said, disdain for
the Camerons heavy in his tone.

“I’ll trust that
they have.  Ye have a reputation for ruthlessness when yer Clan has been done
wrong.  Another reason why I had thought she would be safe in the care of yer
Clan.”

Berkshire’s words
were a complement with a double edged barb.

“I ken that words doona
mean much given yer loss, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that we failed ye,
failed yer daughter,” Devon said, looking up at Berkshire with solemn eyes. 
“We should have sent a party here to get her, escorting her safely to our
lands,” he said.

“I would have
insisted upon it had I known that there was any risk posed to Cate,” Berkshire
said, regret visible on his aged face.  He shook his head slightly from side to
side, pain of his daughter’s loss fresh on his features.  “Sae, this brings me
to my next question.  Who is this imposter, posing as my daughter?” Berkshire
shifted his gaze to me, the tone of his voice swiftly changing from regret into
controlled rage.

“She is my wife,” Devon
said coolly, testosterone pumping through his veins as he suddenly came on edge
by the threat in Berkshire’s voice.

“Let’s not play
that game, McClain.  She signed my daughter’s name on your marriage
certificate,” he seethed, no longer the kindly restrained man that he had been
only moments ago.  “She didna even spell Cate’s name right!” he bellowed, eyes
wild, threatening as he glared down at me.

I felt more
nervous than ever.  I could feel my heard beat increasing and feel the
perspiration beginning to make my palms sweaty as I wrung my hands together.  Berkshire
had every right to be mad and I was guilty of falsely claiming to be his
daughter.  My guilt settled uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, its weight
felt like a ton of bricks.

Devon said
nothing, but I felt his arm tighten protectively around my shoulders.  He
allowed Berkshire to continue by remaining silent.

“Had she not been
such a terrible fake, what with spelling Cate’s name wrong and looking nothing
like my daughter, I might have sent the dowry money.” He ranted, eyes still
burning on my skin.  “At least her stupidity made her traitorous ways known so
that I could expose her lies!” he exclaimed, face growing redder by the minute.

“Enough, Berkshire!”
Devon exclaimed with equal fervor.  “I willna have ye insulting my wife!” he
bellowed back at the old man.  “I came here to make ye understand, tae let ye
ken the whole truth.  Are ye ready tae let me explain?” It was more of a demand
than a question.