Angel of Skye (17 page)

Alec brushed her lips with his own, and then, tracing a line to her ear, he whispered softly.

“Come tomorrow.”

Fiona tilted her head as his lips nibbled her earlobe, kissed the skin of her neck.

“Come.”

“Aye, I will come,” she answered dreamily. “Someone needs to scare away the birds.”

Alec pulled his face back a bit and smiled at her. The young laird then swung his leg over the charger’s back and dropped lithely to the ground. Reaching up with both hands, he took Fiona by the waist. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and their bodies touched as he lowered her gently.

They were standing just outside the cluster of village huts, and their eyes were locked in the evening’s last embrace.

“We have to get you home,” he repeated.

“Aye,” she sighed, looking away toward the Priory walls beyond the village.

Hand in hand, they directed their steps up the lane to the Priory gate.

“I think I will be safe from this point,” she said. Fiona needed a moment to clear her head before facing the ones she knew would be waiting for her inside.

“Till tomorrow, then,” he called as she walked away. “You will tell Malcolm?”

She nodded with a final backward glance before disappearing inside the Priory walls.

Who can overcome peril, misadventure?

Who can govern a realm, city, or house

Without science?

—Robert Henryson

“
The Cock and the Jasp
”

She’d escaped once. The warrior vowed to himself that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Kill her, and the boy as well.”

She was here, exactly where they had intended her to be all along. If he’d only known. He’d have put that knowledge to use. Profitable use. But her time for usefulness had passed, now. Too bad. All these years and they hadn’t even known she was here.

But now he knew. When he first saw her, she’d looked so familiar. And then, as if by magic, Andrew’s message arrived. Aye, he knew. And he would do what needed to be done. Andrew would pay him well; he had been promised that. And if the brat dies along with her...well, so much the better!

“But you said the laird has his eye on the bitch,” Crossbrand muttered. “What if we can’t get at her?”

“I have given you everything you need,” the thugs’ leader spat at them. “But do not try to start thinking now. Just do as you are told.”

“But...what if we kill the laird? Will there be more in it for us?”

“It is not him I want dead, you dolt. It is she. Killing the boy will add ample dishonor for your laird. But do what you have to do.”

The pony trailing behind him pulled at its tether, and Alec glanced around at the small brown and white animal. Malcolm is going to love this lively fellow, he thought.

The sun was warm on his face as he threaded his way along the path toward the Priory. He wondered if Fiona had awakened thinking of him, as he had been thinking of her. For the first time in quite a while, Alec had slept well, his sleep undisturbed by visions of kings and crowds.

It had been a late night for Alec questioning the company at Dunvegan. But in spite of all he had done, he was disappointed that he had no information to give Fiona about Walter’s attacker.

Based on what he was able to ascertain thus far, any number of men on the Isle of Skye could have been the assailant. Though the common folk loved Father Jack, he had to be a threat to the power structure of both island clans. He was more a counselor to the people than their leaders were, and that had to anger the ruling hierarchy of the clans. Both the MacLeod and the MacDonald leaders could easily have grievances with the old hermit, and to pin his death on an outsider made perfect sense. Unfortunately, there were several black horses at Dunvegan besides Ebon, and Alec was certain a Macpherson tartan was obtainable.

But despite all this, the warlord had not given up hope. Walter’s grandson, Adrian, still offered the possibility of identifying the man. And having warned the MacLeod men of his intentions of getting to the bottom of the attack, Alec now wondered how they might respond.

“For me? For my very own?” the lad blurted out. “Oh, David, can I really keep him?”

“We will clear it with the prioress, of course. But I don’t think she will object to Lord Alec’s present.”

“Oh, thank you, Alec. He is so handsome.” Malcolm ran his hand admiringly over the coat of the little pony. “Can I ride him to the bluffs? What is his name?”

“His name is Rogue,” Alec said. “But I think the stable yard is a very good place to get to know one another first. Do you agree, David?”

“Aye, Malcolm’s a very able rider, but that is a fine idea.”

“A horse and a falcon, all on the same day,” Malcolm said excitedly, turning to the older man. “Alec and I are netting a young falcon today. One that I can train.”

“I know, Malcolm,” David said, smiling at the boy.

“One to keep. Is that not so, Alec?”

“We’ll try. No promises, but we’ll try to find you one of your own.”

Alec’s eyes swept over the Priory grounds. There were groups of nuns working in the gardens, and a merchant traveler and his manservant were just mounting their horses by the hostelry. Through the gates a steady stream of village folk were bustling back and forth, but there was no sign of Fiona.

“She is in her workroom,” David said, smiling slyly at the laird. “She did not know when to expect you, and the prioress had a few things she wanted done.”

“Oh,” Alec responded, surprised by the older man’s astuteness.

“If you would like, m’lord, I can send one of the boys—”

“Nay,” the laird broke in. “I know where it is. But perhaps we shouldn’t disturb—”

“Disturb?” David laughed. “She has been out here looking for you every quarter hour since sunrise...well, since prime, anyway.”

Alec could not help a smile from creeping into his features. “Then I will just go and get her.”

“Hurry back,” Malcolm’s young voice broke in. “We don’t want to get to the bluffs too late. Fiona is in a good mood this morning. If we catch my falcon now, she might let me keep it.”

Fiona put the stopper in the bottle of ink and blew the last entry dry.

“Done. Done. Done. Done. But where is he?” she muttered to herself. Gathering up three of the farm ledgers and some scrolls, she headed out the door. “Well, I’ll just leave these for the prioress, check on the—”

The open door suddenly became a wall, a human wall. Stepping back, she smiled up into the face of Alec Macpherson.

“You’re here,” she said brightly, conscious of her quickening heartbeat.

“Aye,” he said, backing her into the room. His eyes traveled over her, taking in every aspect of her. Her beautifully flushed face greeted him with all the welcome he had hoped to find. The gray dress she was wearing, demure as it was, did nothing to hide the slender curves of her body. She was wearing no veil, and the light of the single window picked up the flaming highlights of her neatly pulled-back hair.

He reached over, while holding her gaze, and took the paraphernalia from her arms, depositing it unceremoniously in a pile on the corner of the table. Without pausing, he backed to the door and pushed it closed.

“M’lord,” she whispered, her eyes widening. “Is this proper?”

“I don’t give a damn if it is or not.” Alec stepped toward her. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I.” She took a hesitant step toward him as Alec closed the distance between them.

Their bodies met in a whirlwind of desire.

“You’ve entranced me, my fairy maid,” he whispered, his lips a breath away.

“I’m the one spellbound,” she breathed, raising her mouth to his.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, the two met in a kiss that ignited sparks in their souls, lighting up the very core of their being.

Alec pressed her to him, suddenly unconscious of anything but the soft mouth and body yielding to his own. There was a fierceness in their embrace that had not been present the night before. It was as if the new day had brought with it new feelings, new desires, new thresholds to cross.

Inside Fiona, flames were leaping up, torching all reason, all care. She felt herself being engulfed in an immolation of passion that she scarcely thought possible. She could feel his silent demand. Her hands clutched at his back as her lips parted.

Alec tasted the sweetness of her lips. He angled his mouth to move more deeply into her, and Fiona turned slightly in his arms, rising to his need.

As he felt her turn, a raw desire swept into him, and an urgency began to take hold of him. Her hips were pressed against him, and Alec was suddenly conscious of a growing power that was building with unchecked momentum. He backed her against the table. He wanted her.

Fiona found herself instinctively arching against him. His leg moved between hers and pressed against her intimately. Her hands traced the lines of his back. Her mouth became as wild as his, as undisciplined. Within her, she was suddenly half-conscious of an entirely new woman awakening, one with feelings, with desires. Her senses flooded with a raw hunger that matched his, a hunger that could not be denied.

Emboldened by the feel of his hands on her back, she reached up, taking hold of his shoulder and neck. As his strong fingers caressed her back, sliding ever lower to the curve of her buttocks, she pushed her hips against his powerful frame and felt one hand lift her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat as he nestled his arousal tightly to her. She felt him throbbing intimately against her, and suddenly a moment of panic flashed into her consciousness. Instinctively, Fiona tried to move her hips away, but with the table at her back and Alec’s coaxing hands and mouth stoking the fire in her, she found the relevance of her fear fading rapidly into oblivion. Fear surrendered to physical desire, and Fiona found her whole body straining for more of him.

As Fiona moved against him, Alec felt his body shake with desire. Her body’s movement was feeding the rivers of need building within him. Alec withdrew from the kiss, moving his mouth to the silky skin of her neck.

“What are you doing to me?” she whispered.

“I’m paying the fairy tithe.”

His hands caressed her side, moving gently to the soft round fullness of her breast. He heard her sharp intake of air as she pressed even more tightly into his grip.

“Fairies…are creatures of habit,” she said, feeling his fingers undoing the buttons that held the back of her dress.

“Habit? You could become an obsession.” He pulled the collar of her dress away and pressed his full lips to the soft whiteness of her shoulder. The strap of a chemise slipped down onto her arm.

“I could?” she whispered huskily.

“You already have,” he answered, pulling her dress down off her shoulder. “You have already taken hold of my heart.”

Alec looked into the desire that clouded Fiona’s eyes, and pressed his lips to the exposed flesh of the top of her breast. He pulled the gray wool of the dress lower.

The creak of a door opening in the corridor wrenched them back into the reality of the place. Breathless, Fiona leaped aside, her hands hurriedly pulling her clothes back into some semblance of order. Her fingers flew to her neck, fumbling to close the buttons at the back.

Alec stood where he was, his blue eyes piercing her with intense desire.

What had come over her? Fiona could not explain, even to herself, the rush of feelings she harbored for this man. They seemed to dominate her rational thoughts, her ability to think straight. And this was so different from what they had experienced the night before. Affection had suddenly turned to desire. Tenderness to unbridled passion. As their eyes locked again, she felt her body melting under the heat of his gaze.

“I can’t,” she stammered. “We shouldn’t.”

“We’ve done nothing wrong, Fiona.”

“You don’t understand.” She turned and retreated to the small window of the workroom. Standing there, inhaling the fresh air, she tried to calm her senses, to comprehend somehow what had just occurred.

Alec could not tear his eyes away from her. Passion. Ambrose had asked him that question last night. About where a relationship such as theirs could end up. He had listed reason after reason why Alec should let her be. Fiona, with no family, no name, had at least a place and a future that Alec should not tamper with. Ambrose had talked of things Alec had not been ready to answer. About whether this affection for Fiona, this innocent, might simply be a reaction to Kathryn. About using Fiona to recover from his own hurt.

Alec had been angry with his younger brother for asking these things, and he had let him know it. But he had thought hard about what his brother said. Everything Ambrose said rang with the possibility of truth. But now, looking at her, he knew what he had known last night, what he had known for days. That what was driving him was a force very different from what Ambrose envisioned. But it was something he had not been ready to admit. Not to Ambrose. Not to himself.

But it is simple, he thought now, looking at her by the window.

I need her. Just her. As she is.

I love her.

Voices could be heard in the corridor. They passed by the door. Alec watched her face turn slightly as she listened to the sounds recede. He turned and opened the door.

“I promised Malcolm I would bring you right back.” Alec smiled. “I had the best of intentions.”

She turned and looked steadily at him. He looked so calm, so much in control. So unlike her. She was a mess. Fiona took a deep breath, trying to get some grasp on all that had just happened between them.

“Malcolm is very excited about today, m’lord.”

“No more ‘m’lord’ or `Lord Macpherson,’ Fiona,” he replied seriously. “It is just Alec from now on.”

Fiona could not answer him.

Standing silently, she looked at the handsome Highland nobleman. Though her workroom was not small, his huge frame dominated the space. An aura surrounded him of confidence, wealth, ability...power. Everything about him marked the differences between them, from his fine white linen shirt to the jeweled clan broach that held in place the tartan crossing his chest. Looking at him, she knew all too clearly. She was a commoner without a family, a woman with no name. She lowered her eyes. Yes, she knew all too clearly.