Winning the Highlander's Heart (18 page)

Dougald chuckled.  “Aye.  ‘Twas a mess.  But no’ your fault and the ladies are both betrothed to other lairds now.”

“At least you hope,” Angus said.

“Neither wanted you because you had no properties, so I see no reason to worry.  You are free to wed whom you like,” Dougald insisted.

Malcolm took an exasperated breath.  “If the king approves.”

Angus winked at Dougald, the knowing look passed between them.  “I feel it in my bones the Lady Anice will be yours, God willing.”

“We have more important things to discuss,” Malcolm said, not wishing to talk about his marital status further.  “Come we must speak at once with his lairdship.  We have many arrangements to make before the sun comes up.”

“You sound as if we are in for a battle.”  Dougald’s shoulders drew straight. 

On many occasion had Dougald watched his back, as well as he’d watched his.  Though Angus was younger, they had trained him to fight like them, fearless and protective of them as they were of him.  When accompanied by their older brother, James, the four of them were damned near invincible. 

‘Twas not the same once James had become the earl of their father’s estates and left them to find new battles to fight without his leadership.  Though Malcolm had to admit he was ready to lead his own people and was happy not to live under his brother’s rule, despite how fond he was of him.

“A battle of wits, my brothers,” Malcolm finally explained.  “But be assured it is a deadly game, and we would best be on highest alert at all times.”

“Does he speak of the lady, or something else?” Angus asked.

Malcolm laughed.  “Always with the lady.  Let me tell you the plan before we seek audience with his lairdship.”

*  *  *

Early that morning, a hand touched Anice’s shoulder when she snuggled against the feather-down pillow in the guest chamber.  ‘Twas just a dream, she told herself.

“Milady.”  A pretty young girl with midnight black eyes and black braids dangling down her bodice, tried again to stir her.

Anice bolted upright.  “What is wrong?”

“Lord MacNeill wishes a word with ye, and he told me not to wake yer lady-in- waiting.”

“Aye.”  Anice climbed out of bed and the maid quickly helped her into her shift, then her green wool bliaut.

Barefooted, Anice headed to the door.

“Milady, yer shoes.”

Annoyed with herself for being so addle-minded, Anice shook her head and returned to the bed.  “’Tis too early in the morn for this,” she said cheerfully, being half-asleep, and not wanting the maid to think she was angry with her.  Anice glanced at the wall where Mai was buried under a blanket on a cot and was glad to see her sleeping soundly.

The maid pulled Anice’s hose on her, then her shoes and tied them.  Anice hopped up from the bed and rushed back to the door, but the woman scurried forward to open it for her.

Malcolm held a candle in the drafty hall, his gaze instantly shifting from her eyes to her unbound hair.  The look of admiration instantly pleased her, though she couldn’t imagine she looked very appealing with her hair uncombed.

She grabbed his free arm and walked him away from the chamber, figuring he needed some distraction if he were to tell her what was going on.

“You sure are bonny, lass.”

She smiled.  “I look a bit untidy, I imagine.”

“You look well-loved,” he said with a definite twinkle in his eye.

She glanced back to see the maid had disappeared.  “You’re no’ a gentleman.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the hallway.  “You bring the devil out in me, milady.”

“Should I worry about being in your company alone?”  Secretly, she hoped he’d sweep her away to some secret place and kiss her without reservation.  And much more.  Just thinking of his errant fingers touching her breasts made her skin heat for more of the same.

“‘Tis a shame we have nay good soft place like the hayloft to discuss matters.”

He did want the same as she did.  “Would you be discussing matters then?  I would think you would have other notions in mind, Malcolm.”

Malcolm stared at her for a moment, then realized she had not made a mistake this time in calling him by his surname.  Her speaking his name endeared her to him.  But not only that, she fully wished him as much as he wanted her.  He set the candle down, then reached over and braced her against the wall.  She would not be permitted to kiss him and run away always without his kissing her in return.

Her lips curved up against his, and he knew she was not perturbed by his actions.  When he pressed her further, her hands slipped to his waist.  He wished he could join the vixen in the hayloft again, only this time naked, writhing together in heated passion, tupping her as a ram would a ewe.

Already his body yearned for her as the crotch of his trewes grew tight.  He reminded himself that he had not been with a wench in a very long time, and that’s why Anice’s tender touch nearly undid him.

He fisted his hands in her silky hair and brought it to his face, the fragrance of lavender lingering in the curls.  “Bonny lass, you do not know what you do to a man.”

She touched his scruffy beard.  “Nor how you affect me.”

“I can feel your heart beat quicken when we are close.  You are not afraid?”

“I have never felt anything like this for a man.  Though once there was the son of the chief of the MacHeth who I felt silly over sometimes when I was much younger whenever the chief and members of his clan came to visit my da.”

Squashing the urge to laugh, Malcolm wished he’d been the lad she’d so liked.  Again, he kissed her velvet lips, and she parted them for him, begging him to plunder her.  Would she offer the rest of herself so easily?

He couldn’t think of such a thing.  She was the cousin of the king’s wife and Henry had other plans for her betrothal.  With the greatest difficulty, Malcolm pulled away.  “I must tell you our plan.”

For a second, she seemed disconcerted, but then her green eyes flashed with fire.  “It better sound a lot like
my
plan.”

He shook his head, smiling.  “You are sure stubborn, lass.  But the earl and my brothers and I agreed your plan has merit.  What does Mai say?”

 “She was reluctant because she feels it her duty to protect me.  However, she worried she might put us more at risk.  What did the earl say?”

“Simon is a bold man.  He would not have it said that rogues attack nobles who pass through his shire.  Therefore, he wishes for us to use part of your plan, and he has concocted one of his own.”  Malcolm curled a strand of her hair around his fingers, his gaze focused on the lock, the silky red golden strand as enticing as the rest of her.

“The plan?”

He smiled at her.  If she thought her hair distracted him, she would be right.  “Even his son Simon wishes to take part and the earl’s wife as well.  You see, ‘tis like a game, deadly though it is.  Yet, the earl and his family are verra much agreeable to play along.  I assured him we assume this is what Conan intends, not mentioning that Laird Fontenot has any part in this without evidence.  But I told the earl the knight pretended not to know you, and yet from his talk he knew who you were.  I changed the version a wee bit and said we think he may have brigands attack us so they can ransom you to the king.”

She frowned.  “But what if this does not happen?”

Malcolm combed his hands through her hair, wishing he could touch the rest of her so intimately.  “The earl said he has not planned such a rousting good play since the Crusades.  If naught happens, he and his men will return home and have a good laugh about the Highlanders and their wild imaginations.”

She sighed deeply.  “’Tis good.  I would not wish your friendship harmed.  You say when he returns home though.  Does he plan to accompany us?”

“Nay.  We are to attend the fair while the earl and three of his knights accompany him.  They will take our wagon and all of our goods, pretending to be us.  Two squires, the one his son, who are still smooth of face and about your and Mai’s height will ride as before, dressed in yer garments.”

“They would be at risk—”

“They are of slighter build, milady, as they are not yet grown men.  I have met the two fine lads and they are beanpoles to be sure.  But the earl assures me they shall soon be knighted, so bravely do they fight.  They will have a better chance against armed brigands than ye—”

She raised a brow.

He smiled slowly, loving the lass’s tenacity.  “Than Mai will.”

“What about Conan?  He will know those who ride with our wagon are not us.”

“The earl’s men searched for Conan, the bard, last night.  He now sits in the dungeon.  If Simon finds nay brigands on the northerly road, he will set Conan free in a day or two.”

“What reason did he give for arresting Conan?”

“’Twill be a case of mistaken identity.  Of course, Laird Simon will not give the man audience because he is away on business.  In the interim, Conan must wait for the earl to return.”

Anice let out her breath.

“We will visit the fair for a couple of hours.  Mai will accompany the earl’s wife and shop.  Several ladies and guards will accompany them.  If someone else knows about ye, they will think you are shopping with your maid and hosts.  You and my brothers and I will tour the fair as men of the cloth.”

“Monks?”

“Aye, to keep you safe.  I would not have your legs exposed in men’s hose, lass.”  This time
he
tilted his chin up, waiting for her to disagree with him.

She smiled.  “Underneath the pious cloth we wear our weapons, milaird?”

“Except for ye, of course.  After you have shopped to your heart’s desire, we will eat at the fair and leave.”

The courtiers began to stir.

“We will have prayers in chapel early, break fast, then don our garments for the fair.”

“I wish to thank you for using most of my plan, before too many of the servants are up and about.”

He pulled her against his body, not waiting for her to say another word.  She slid her fingers lovingly over his back and pressed closer, stirring his groin into action.  His lips glided over hers with unrestrained need, a burning crush of her mouth that revealed a hunger not easily slaked.  He struggled to quell his raging desire for her while he gripped her silken hair in bountiful bundles and leaned against her soft, willing body.  He couldn’t believe how much her gentle touch and tentative kisses could light a rampant fire deep inside him.  If Henry saw them now, he’d have both their heads.  But Malcolm didn’t want to stop, and neither did she seem to, which stoked his burning need even more.

Anice fought appearing too brazen and scaring her champion off, but she ran her hands over his muscled back, wishing she could feel his bare skin and press her body wantonly against his erection, hard and willing.  She didn’t want to quell her own lustful desires, instead wishing to have his hands lifting the hem of her gown, and his fingers rising up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, leaving the skin sizzling in their wake, rising higher to the juncture of her legs, now aching with gusto.

She clung to him as his tongue delved into her mouth and his fingers drew down to her breasts.  She savored the experience, the feel of his large hands massaging her breasts, the nubs tight, stretching out to him and begging for relief.  Shivers raced down her heated skin as she barely breathed.  He growled low and nuzzled her neck with his mouth, and she moaned in blissful anticipation.  The notion she was shameless briefly crossed her mind.  How could she allow herself to be touched so intimately by a man not her husband?