The Laird of Stonehaven (14 page)

“I am not sure,” she reluctantly acknowledged.

“I think you know but are afraid to admit the truth. Do you love me, Blair.”

She drew back in alarm. “Nay! I canna love you.”

He raised her chin with his fingertip and brushed his lips against hers. “Tell me you feel naught when I kiss you.”

She shook her head. “Think you I am made of wood? You are an attractive man, Graeme. But responding to you doesna mean I love you. No woman alive could resist you.”

“I want you to love me, Blair. More than that, ’tis imperative that you do.”

Blair went very still. “You want me to lose my powers.”

“I want my wife to be normal. I dinna like people looking at you with fear in their eyes, sweeting. I know there isna an evil bone in your body, but others dinna share my belief.”

“ ’Tis my duty to fulfill the Prophecy. Difficult as it will be, I canna allow myself to love you.”

His grin said otherwise. “Then it shall become my mission in life to change your mind. I am a hard man to resist when I am at my most charming.”

“You dinna play fair.”

“You consider it unfair for a wife to love her husband?”

“Nay, not if a husband returns his wife’s love.”

He reddened beneath her probing gaze. “If I could love, I wouldna withhold it from you, lass. But my heart is empty.”

She placed her hand over his heart; the pulse of its steady beat echoed her own. “Unless your heart beats for me, we remain at an impasse, my lord. I realized I didna love you when you heard my mental plea for help. If I loved you, my powers would have failed me.”

Graeme’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His reaction to Blair’s touch shocked him. He felt blood rush to the place where her hand rested, then drain downward to his loins. The result was an instant erection that probed insistently against her bottom. She shifted away, and he knew she had felt his arousal.

“I . . . have things to do,” she demurred.

“So do I, but they can wait. Are you too sore to take me, sweeting?”

She nodded her head at the same time as her mouth formed a negative reply.

“Which is it, aye or nay? I want to make love to you.”

Her eyes widened. “ ’Tis the middle of the day.”

“I am aware of that, and it matters not.”

“I dinna think we should.” She leapt from his lap. Graeme reached for her, but Blair was saved when Alyce burst into the chamber without knocking.

“I just heard, lass. Did Niall hurt ye? How did he lure you to the village?”

“Aye,” Graeme said with sudden interest. “Tell us, Blair. I would like the answer to that one myself.”

“Niall sent a lad to fetch me. He said Gunna needed my help.” Her voice trembled over the next words. “Niall and MacKay enlisted Gunna’s help to . . . to examine me. They didna believe my marriage to Graeme had been consummated. Niall claimed there had been a prior betrothal between me and MacKay, which we both know is false.”

“Think you Gunna would have lied about your lack of maidenhead?” Graeme wondered.

“Aye. ’Tis no secret she doesna like me. She would have told Niall and MacKay what they wanted to hear.”

Alyce looked from Graeme to Blair, apparently coming to the correct conclusion. A grin stretched her lips. “I’m pleased ye followed my advice, lass.”

“What advice was that?” Graeme asked.

“Dinna you dare,” Blair warned when Alyce opened her mouth to reply.

A chuckle rumbled from Graeme’s chest. “Never mind, I can guess. Gunna may have lied, but it wouldna have changed the fact that Blair isna a maiden.” He rose. “I suppose I should make sure our visitors found their way home.” His expression hardened. “And mayhap I will pay a visit to Gunna.”

“Dinna send her away, Graeme,” Blair said. “The villagers need her skills.”

“Are you sure ’tis what you want?”

“Aye.”

“Nevertheless, I intend to have words with her. I want to make damn certain nothing like this happens again. Dinna wander far from the keep for the next few days, lass,” he said in parting.

“Ye shouldna have gone to the village without me,” Alyce chided.

“I considered looking for you but didna want to delay. If there had been real trouble, wasted minutes could have meant the difference between life and death. I fetched my basket and left immediately.”

Alyce searched Blair’s face. “Did Niall hurt ye?”

“Nay. They waited outside while Gunna prepared to examine me.” Her chin rose defiantly. “I wasna about to let that filthy old crone put her hands on me. Once her back was turned, I bashed her with a candlestick and fled out the back door. Graeme met me before Niall and MacKay caught up with me.”

“How did Graeme know ye were in trouble?”

“I sent him a mental plea for help. I didna know if he would hear, but I had to try.”

“Graeme Campbell is yer soul mate . . . yer destiny. Ye knew him from your dreams before he came to ye in person. And now ye belong to him in every way. I am happy for ye, lass.”

“Graeme doesna love me, Alyce. His heart belongs to a woman I canna compete with. My body may belong to Graeme, but I canna give him my heart. You know that as well as I.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Alyce scoffed. “Listen to a wise old woman, lass. Yer husband canna help himself. He will love ye as much as ye love him.”

“But I dinna—”

Alyce held up her hand. “Dinna deny it.”

“The Prophecy . . . I still have my powers.”

Alyce grinned. “Does that tell ye naught?”

“I am afraid to hope. Graeme said his heart was empty.”

“Och! Fill it, lass, fill it.”

Having imparted those words of wisdom, Alyce took her leave. Blair remained behind a few moments to gather her thoughts. Her herb-gathering expedition was out of the question now, so instead she made a mental list of what needed to be done in the keep.

Glenda breezed into the chamber with an arm-load of clean linens just as Blair was leaving.

“I didna hear you knock,” Blair said.

Glenda tossed her mane of red hair. “I didna know anyone was in here.” She sent Blair a spiteful glare. “I just stripped the bed in the laird’s bedchamber and found blood on the sheets. Graeme should have had more sense than to bed a witch.”

Blair’s hands flew to her flaming cheeks. Did everyone in the keep know she had spent the night in Graeme’s bed? Then her senses returned. So what? She and Graeme were married and need answer to no one. Graeme’s kinsmen might not like her, but they couldn’t deny that she was Graeme’s wife and mistress of the keep.

“If you value your job, you’d be well advised to mind your tongue,” Blair said as she swept out the door.

As Blair walked out into the hall, Stuart hailed her. She smiled at her husband’s uncle and waited for him to join her.

“I am sorry for what happened to ye today, lass,” Stuart said. “Do ye think yer brother will make mischief for Graeme? He is close to the king and can bring trouble to our clan.”

“Niall is untrustworthy,” Blair answered. “He and MacKay are a dangerous pair. I know not what form their retaliation will take, but I suspect it will be leveled against me personally, not your clansmen. If I thought they meant Graeme harm, I would leave Stonehaven.”

“Can ye do naught to stop trouble before it arrives? Can ye place a spell on that unholy pair of conspirators before they hatch some mischief? ’Tis what witches do, is it not?”

Shock rendered Blair speechless. Had she heard right? Was Graeme’s uncle asking her to use witchcraft?

“I dinna believe what I just heard,” Graeme roared from behind them. “Shame on you, Uncle! You just accused my wife of being a witch. Apologize to her.”

“Come now, lad,” Stuart stammered. “We all know yer wife claims to possess powers. Why should she not use them to help us? How difficult can it be for her to place a spell on our enemies?”

“I will tolerate no more of that kind of talk,” Graeme snapped. He placed an arm around Blair’s narrow shoulders. “Think you I amna capable of defending my wife and my kinsmen?”

“MacArthur and MacKay have the king’s ear,” Stuart warned. “I fear for ye, lad.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I have things well in hand.”

“Ah, well then, I apologize, lass,” Stuart said in parting.

“Your kinsmen fear me,” Blair lamented. “I have brought trouble to Stonehaven.”

“Dinna even think like that,” Graeme growled. “You’re mine, Blair MacArthur. And what is mine, I keep.”

If Blair didn’t know better, she could almost believe Graeme cared for her.

Alyce was helping Blair prepare for bed that night when Graeme strolled into her bedchamber. He dismissed the tiring woman with a nod of his head and picked up the brush Alyce had discarded. Then, to Blair’s dismay, he began brushing her luxurious mane of blond hair with long, sweeping strokes.

“You dinna have to do that,” she said.

“I want to. Your hair is like silk, and it pleases me to do this for you.”

“If you have seduction in mind, forget it,” Blair said. “We did what had to be done to foil Niall, but I see no reason to share a bed now that the deed is done.”

“Do you not?” Graeme replied in a teasing tone. “You are mad if you think you can deny me your body after granting me a taste of your passion.”

“Intimacy is wrong unless love is involved,” Blair said softly.

“The only thing wrong is your belief that love is necessary to enjoy the marriage bed. Although,” he said, lowering his voice to a seductive purr, “I wouldna mind if you fell in love with me.”

“Conceited oaf,” Blair muttered, plucking the brush from his hand. “Are you here for a particular reason?”

“Aye, I want to make love to my wife.”

A knock on the door forestalled Blair’s answer. Spitting out a curse, Graeme strode to the door and flung it open. His expression was so fierce that Heath drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” Graeme growled.

“Ye werena in yer own chamber so I figured ye were with the wit . . . yer wife. There’s trouble.”

Immediately alert, Graeme asked, “What kind of trouble?”

“Reivers. They swooped down from the hills and drove off some of our sheep.”

“Were the reivers identified?”

“Nay, ’twas too dark, but one of the lads thought they were MacKays.”

Graeme loosed another curse. “I will be down directly.” He turned to Blair. “I have to go,” he said. “Dinna wait up for me.”

“Graeme.” He glanced back at her. “Be careful.”

“Does that mean you care what happens to me?”

Blair looked him in the eye without flinching. “Of course. As much as I care about anyone facing a dangerous situation.”

Grinning, Graeme went to her and wound his fingers in her hair, lifted her face up to his and gave her a quick, hard kiss. Then he was gone.

Blair touched her lips, bemused and more than a little annoyed. It was obvious that Graeme was trying to seduce her, though his reason for doing so was wrongheaded. He wanted her to love him, even if he couldn’t return her love.

Before retiring that night, Blair spent a long time on her knees imploring God and the spirits to protect Graeme and his kinsmen. Finally she climbed into bed. She was weary and slipped quickly into an uneasy slumber.

No sooner had sleep claimed her than she began to dream. It was a dream she had had before, but more terrifying than she remembered. She was surrounded by fire. It licked at her clothing and singed her hair. The heat was unbearable. Through the curtain of flames she saw people leering at her, their expressions rapt with unholy glee. Their voices rose loud and shrill above the sound of her screams.

“Burn, witch, burn.
Burn, witch, burn.”

Graeme trudged up the stairs to his bedchamber, so tired he could scarcely move. The chase had reaped benefits, for they had found the sheep, though not the reivers. Fortunately, he had been alerted soon after the reivers struck, which made it possible for him and his kinsmen to track them down before the sheep had been driven into the hills, where they would have been forever lost.

Donal MacKay and his clan had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could recall. Since their lands adjoined, reiving had always been a problem.

Graeme was walking along the gallery when he heard Blair scream. His tiredness fell away as if it had never existed. Muscles tense, his heart pounding with fear, he raced toward her bedchamber, ready to rescue her from whomever or whatever threatened her. Grateful that he was still armed, he gripped his claymore and burst through the door. He found Blair sitting up in bed, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Stunned, he glanced around the chamber, peering into the dark shadows, seeking some hidden danger. Finding naught to provoke Blair’s fear, he dropped the claymore and approached the bed. Blair was still screaming, her slim frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. He grasped her shoulders and gave her a shake.

“Blair! What is it? Did someone try to hurt you?”

Blair stared at him with vacant eyes.

He shook her again. “Look at me, sweeting. ’Tis Graeme. I willna let anyone hurt you.”

Blair began sobbing and appeared not to recognize him. When she struggled to escape his hold, he sat down on the bed and held her close.

“Fire,” Blair whimpered. “I am burning.”

Thinking she might be ill, he felt her forehead and found it cool to the touch. “Nay, you’re not burning, sweeting. You were dreaming. Can you tell me about it?”

Blair blinked and reached for him. “I dinna want to burn, Graeme. Help me.”

Graeme’s heart sank. Had Blair’s nightmare been a premonition of her future? The thought was too painful to contemplate, and he silently renewed his vow to protect her from those who wished her harm.

“You’re not going to burn, lass. I willna let that happen.”

She pressed herself into the warm haven of his body. “My dreams are predictions of the future.”

“Not this one. You have my guarantee that no one will hurt you.” Lowering his head, his mouth covered hers in a kiss meant to reassure and comfort.

Blair sagged against him, taking comfort in the scent that was uniquely his—a dusky masculine essence laced with accents of night air and wood smoke. His taste, sensual beyond belief, made her yearn for more. Love, unnamed, unspoken, welled up inside her, but fear of losing her powers made her break off the kiss and look up at him. The planes and angles of his face were harshly delineated, stark and feral.