The Thief (12 page)

‘How dare you,’ she said in a fierce whisper. ‘I told you my thoughts on dancing.’

‘My dear Kenzie,’ he said, uncurling one of her clenched fists. ‘As you’ve yet to dance beneath Castle Redheugh’s roof, I aim to change your thinking.’ He placed her goblet into her open hand. ‘I suggest you drain the last of your wine, for you’ll have little chance to quench your thirst later.’

He guided the vessel to her lips, tilted the cup and she drank, mesmerised by the gleam in his eyes, a gleam that turned hungry as he removed the goblet and she licked the last traces of fruity wine from her lips. His eyes explored her mouth, leaving her suddenly breathless, before slowly climbing to meet hers. Straightening, he took her hand.

‘Dance with me,’ he said softly.

She stood and had walked half the length of the laird’s table when she heard the unmistakable whine of bagpipes being primed. The discordant strum of a fiddle quickly followed. Her steps faltered. Should she tell him she’d never danced beneath any roof—or anywhere else for that matter?

The encouraging light in the glance Lachlan threw over his shoulder warmed her. The need to hide any weaknesses from him kept her silent. Forcing her legs to continue forward, she focused on naught but Lachlan’s face as he drew them to a halt and placed his large hands on either side of her waist. A tiny shiver raced across her belly at his touch, but was quickly forgotten in her confusion about where she should put her own hands.

As if reading her thoughts, Lachlan released one hand and taking each of hers, pressed a kiss to her palms, enticing a shiver, and set them on his broad shoulders.

She stiffened at such intimate actions in front of so many, and could do little to calm the hot blush staining her cheeks.

‘Ready?’ he asked, with a smile and a gentle squeeze at her waist.

She swallowed. Her secret wish to dance was about to come true.

The pipes cried out, the fiddle answered the call and soon the two found harmony in a sweet, slow melody. Lachlan shifted, coaxing her to move along with him. Kenzie’s borrowed slippers seemed too big. She was suddenly convinced she’d put them on the wrong feet. Her heart thundered in her ears and the feeling of being trapped, out of place, turned her stomach cold.

‘Don’t just hear the music, Kenzie, feel it.’ Lachlan said softly. ‘Close your eyes.’ He drew her closer.

Her left arm slid around his shoulder and her right hand clutched the fabric of his vest, leaving scant space between their bodies.

‘Trust me,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve got you.’

His warmth surrounded her. The hands cradling her back supported her and gave weight to his vow. Her eyes drifted closed, but the image of his face remained clear in the darkness.

The music filled her mind like endless waves, before seeping into her chest where her heart sent it flowing through her veins, her limbs, her being. She swayed, became part of the melody as it became part of her. Her feet moved of their own free will, and each small step felt cushioned by air. Her searching fingers pressed softly and were rewarded by the solid strength beneath their tips. Every slow inhalation tasted of sandalwood and leather.

‘Methinks you were born to dance, Kenzie.’

His quiet words seeped through her and she forced her lashes open. She blinked several times before the image she’d taken with her of Lachlan’s face gave way to the reality. Before she could speak, she had to draw herself together, as if every part of her had been called to a different place by the music.

Silence.

‘Is it over?’ she whispered.

‘It has only just begun.’

With a brisk nod toward the side of the chamber, Lachlan grinned and waggled his brows. The fiddle and pipes struck a chord. A shout of glee erupted from the mob, and then she was being whisked around in a circle, care of Lachlan’s guiding hands.

The hall burst to life. Lively music bounced off the walls and begged their feet to stamp and skip. Kenzie struggled to master the skills to keep up, but as she looked into Lachlan’s jovial countenance, a smile tugged at her lips and her lack of timing mattered not at all.

She jumped and bounded, was jostled and bumped by clansmen who joined the fray. Irregular whoops of delight cut into the music, the jolly sounds widening Kenzie’s eyes and smile. Sweat trickled between her breasts, ran the length of her spine. A fine sheen glistened across Lachlan’s forehead, causing his fair hair to cling about the edges of his face. She wanted to brush the darkened strands free, but didn’t dare let go of the strong arms holding her, lest she wake and find she lived but a dream.

The tunes changed, but the music didn’t stop, or slow. A moment of panic threatened when someone tapped her shoulder and her grip on Lachlan slipped. Reassurance glinted in his smiling eyes as he relinquished his hold. The red-haired man she’d spied talking to Ailsa—Lundy—grasped her hands and spun her away. She was twirled and passed along to the three other swordsmen Lachlan claimed were his most trusted. She didn’t know most of the men she danced with, some bearded, some clean-shaven, but they all sent her on to the next pair of waiting hands.

She danced with Lachlan’s brother, Caelan, knocked knees with an unsteady Father Tremayne, losing her breath on a rush of laughter. She found it again at the sight of Lachlan, but lost it once more as he caught her in his arms and carried her to her chair. Her heart thundered in her chest and every inch of her skin prickled with life and heat.

He poured wine into two goblets and offered her one before drinking from the other.

She sipped and then said, ‘I believe you said I would have little chance to quench my thirst.’

‘So I did,’ he said, setting his empty vessel on the table. ‘But as your husband, it is my duty to ply you with heady wine at our wedding celebration.’

Kenzie’s flesh chilled at the reminder of what they were celebrating. But as she watched Lachlan peeling his leather vest from his body, her skin heated again at the sight of damp ivory linen clinging to his broad, muscular chest.

A shout of glee from one of the merry dancers drew her attention back to the crowd. She gulped half of the wine in her goblet, and then pressed the cool pewter against her cheeks.

‘Did you enjoy kicking up your heels?’ Lachlan asked, as he hung his discarded vest over the back of his chair.

She looked back at the revellers. Her heartbeat had slowed, but the thrill of moving, twisting and turning to the music still lingered. ‘Aye.’ It was wondrous. She glanced at her husband, then away, took another sip and said, ‘Thank you.’

He’d been watching his people, but she knew the precise moment he focused on her. Her right cheek warmed and she was certain the hair above her ear curled. She brushed the side of her face at such a silly thought and discovered that somewhere during her initiation into dance, her swiftly plaited braid had lost its moorings. She gathered it into a thick bundle, not sure what to do with it without the strip of leather to bind it.

‘Leave it.’ A soft command.

Tilting her head, she peered into Lachlan’s earnest eyes. Twice now he’d mentioned liking her hair left unconfined. It was a small request and she had no new leather to secure it.

She released the mass, and it swung about her shoulders until it settled at her back. She then searched the crowded room for something or someone to break the spell of awareness suddenly thickening the air. His regard hadn’t left her unbound hair. She could feel it. Felt the slight ripple when his fingers sampled the softness of one lock.

Her heart pounded at the intimate touch.

‘Do the musicians never tire?’ she asked in a rush.

He released the strand. Her pulse raced a moment more and then slowed.

‘Tevis and Cam will continue to pluck and blow until the last man or woman falls.’ Kenzie heard the fondness in his voice. ‘The two will be pleased, for it seems all are far from retiring, despite the lateness of the hour.’

‘Lateness?’

‘Aye, ‘tis after midnight.’

She’d been happily dancing for hours.

‘How do you know?’ she asked, turning curious eyes his way.

‘The guards who begin their duty at midnight left some time ago, and those they relieved have joined the merrymakers.’

Kenzie’s gaze followed the direction Lachlan’s had taken and she couldn’t help but smile at the sheer enjoyment of those she watched.

‘Do you wish to dance some more?’

Kenzie looked at her husband. ‘Thank you, but nae.’ She wriggled her toes to ensure they hadn’t fallen off. ‘I fear my feet have suffered enough for one night.’

‘Ah, I have the perfect remedy for tired and battered feet.’

He stood and repositioned his chair to face her, then, grasping the armrests of hers, lifted the heavy wooden chair and turned her to face him.

Kenzie had no time to do anything aside from clutching the padded section of her seat and holding her breath. Said breath rushed out on a gasp as he grasped her slippered feet and set them on his knees.

‘What in Mother Mary’s name are you doing?’ she said, desperately trying to arrange her skirt to cover her exposed lower legs.

‘As your husband it is my duty to see you remain fit to dance another day.’ He slid her slippers free and dropped them to the floor, any sound they made smothered by the continued revelry on the other side of the laird’s table.

The first passing of his thumbs across the pads of her feet sent her toes to curling and had her arching off the chair.

‘Ohh, you shouldn’t,’ she said, her voice strained with both discomfort and delight.

‘Aye, I should. Your feet will be thankful for it.’

His clever thumbs worked slow, firm circles across her aching heels. Shivers raced the length of her limbs, causing her inner thighs to tighten and an unknown heat to spring to life between her legs. He brought utter relief to her aching soles, causing her to writhe in glorious agony. His ministrations must be wicked, but she sank her teeth into her lower lip to silence the moans crowding her throat, and to halt the words requesting him to cease.

He uncurled each of her toes and paid every one particular care and attention. ‘You have delicious toes, Kenzie.’

Kenzie grasped the armrests and tried to resist her body’s cry to twist sideways. She stared at his bent head. Horror seeped through her.
Delicious?
He sounded as if he wanted to taste—surely not. Blessed God, she couldn’t take much more.

‘You may stop now,’ she gasped.

‘Why? Are you not enjoying it?’ He cocked one brow, knowing well how much she liked it.

In desperation, she searched for a way to distract him.

‘Your father wanted you to wed?’ she blurted.

His magic fingers stilled. Kenzie latched onto the moment to regain some sense of balance.

‘It was my father’s dying wish.’ His fingers resumed stroking her sensitive arches.

She’d asked the question to distract him, and yet his answer, his tone, distracted her. Curiosity blunted the quivering sensations rushing through her feet and body. ‘What of your mother?’

His fingers slid from her soles and wrapped about her ankles. He peered at the jostling crowd before turning narrowed eyes on her. ‘My father loved her more than life.’

Stunned by his response and the severity in his tone, Kenzie held her tongue as he gently removed her feet from his knees and replaced her slippers.

He glanced over her shoulder. ‘Your maid approaches,’ he said and stood. ‘I have another promise to fulfil.’ With a tight smile, he left.

Experiencing a sharp pang of loss at his departure, Kenzie followed his progress along one side of the hall. He stopped to speak with someone she couldn’t see. She turned at the soft touch on her arm. Ailsa’s cheeks were flushed red and a grin lit her face.

‘I didn’t chase your husband away, did I?’

‘Of course not,’ Kenzie said, forcing her lips to rise at the corners. ‘Sit and tell me what has made your eyes sparkle so.’

Ailsa needed no further encouragement, rattling off the reasons she couldn’t stop smiling: Lundy’s attentions; everyone’s kindness; Lundy’s smile; how happy the Elliot people were; Lundy’s sense of mirth; how handsome Lundy was.

Kenzie smiled and listened, searching for her husband’s broad shoulders among the mob every now and then. His abrupt departure had left her feeling disappointed. She also couldn’t help wondering who had extracted a promise from him and what Lachlan had to do to fulfil it.

She found her husband not far from where he’d paused to chat, but now he was dancing. He wore a genuine smile on his handsome face as he peered down at whoever was in his arms.

Kenzie stretched her neck, desperate to glimpse his partner. There—a snatch of long, golden hair. Kenzie’s heart thundered in her chest, as swift as the lively music. The throng pranced and jostled, but the movements of the couple she studied were slow, their bodies close.

Her stomach clenched. She tried to swallow, but a lump of something resembling envy clogged her throat. A shift in the crowd offered a quick side-on view of one flushed cheek, a delicate jawline and a slender neck before the revellers shifted again, leaving Kenzie with an impression of unblemished beauty.

Her husband was dancing with an unknown, beautiful woman. The sweet wine she’d consumed now tasted sour in her mouth. Was she his mistress?

‘Are you ill, Kenzie?’

She turned to see Ailsa gazing at her, a frown creasing her brow.

Shaking her head, she said, ‘It has been a long day and I’m weary.’ She forced a smile for her friend and stood. ‘I am off to seek my bed.’

‘Then I will escort you to your chamber,’ Ailsa said, gaining her feet.

‘Nae, Ailsa,’ she said, taking her friend’s hand. ‘I’m quite capable of retiring on my own. And I’m certain somewhere in this room, your Lundy is awaiting your return.’

Ailsa’s frown disappeared as she scanned the horde, and from the flush rising pink on her face, Kenzie assumed she’d found Lundy.

‘Be careful, Ailsa,’ Kenzie warned, releasing her hand and heading for the stairwell. She lifted her skirts and climbed the stairs, tread heavy, every step a small mountain she needed to scale.