Dangerous Pride (24 page)

Reaching up, Lachlan gently lowered her chin so he could look into her piercing emerald eyes.  A man could well get lost in those eyes, he thought as he covered her lips with his.  A sigh of surprise escaped her, but she did not resist.  As he slanted his mouth over hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap, she matched his passion equally, her sighs now more of contentment than surprise.  Gently, Lachlan probed at the seam of her lips with his tongue, feeling a surge of desire when she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss.

He groaned as he felt her arms wrap around his neck, pressing her breasts tightly against his chest.  Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of her mahogany locks as he deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of wine on her lips.  She surprised him by responding every bit as hungrily, her teeth grazing his upper lip as she responded to his probing kiss.  Lachlan was swiftly losing control of himself, and he knew if he didn’t end the kiss soon, he would be hard pressed to stop himself from taking their passion further – much further.

Lachlan loosed his hand from her hair, and began to pull back, using every ounce of his self control to bring the kiss to an end.  As he stared down at Catriona, he recognized her disappointment, and it was all he could do not to begin again.  “Do no’ make this harder than it has to be,” he said, his voice husky.  “I ken I agreed to keep this a marriage in name only, but yer making it difficult for me to hold to my word.”

His words pulled Catriona from the mists of passion that had enveloped her.  As he shifted her weight in his arms to put more distance between them, she realized how quickly – and fully – she had lost control of herself.  Surely he would think her a wanton, a woman of vast experience with other men.  Her actions were hardly that of a well-born lass who had come of age in a convent.  Undoubtedly he was reconsidering his opinion of her.

As Lachlan gazed down at her, his face flushed and his expression frustrated, she knew she had made a grave error in judgment.  “I do no’ ken what happened, my lord,” she said finally, pulling herself off his lap as she slumped to the blanket, her eyes downcast.  They sat in an awkward silence for several long moments before she finally summoned the courage to meet his dark expression.

Instead of seeing the passion reflected in his eyes, her gaze was drawn to the small trickle of blood that spread down his chin.  Following her gaze, Lachlan raised a hand to his lips, thoughtfully examining the small spot of blood that coated his finger.  It was hardly the most serious wound he had ever suffered, but it was certainly the most enjoyable.

Her mortified expression was almost more than he could bear.  Though he was delighted she was finally opening herself to the passion he knew could be nurtured between them, he didn’t want to scare her off.  “Do no’ trouble yerself, lass,” he said finally, the deep timbre of his voice sounding strange to his own ears.  “It’s just a nick, and one I suffer happily.”

Catriona sat still for a moment longer, silently praying the earth would swallow her up and save her from further humiliation.  When her prayers remained unanswered, she awkwardly pushed herself to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster.  She tried in vain to come up with an excuse for her behavior, but rejected each word before she had given voice to it.  Finally, with a resigned shake of her head, she picked up the basket and walked briskly towards her horse.

Lachlan struggled to rein in the heat of his passion as he watched her wage her own battle.  Though his heart soared at her unbridled reaction to his kisses, he knew she was having trouble accepting the feelings he had brought to the surface – feelings she had tried to deny for far too long.

Catriona had walked only a few paces when she felt his hand on her arm, gently pulling her around to face him.  She searched his face for any sign of amusement or derision, but found only warmth and passion.  “Even the most beautiful rose has thorns lass – you must remember that,” he said as he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand.  “And it’s a very small price to pay for something as magical as all that, I should think.”

###

The ride back to Tolquhon was a quiet one, as they each wrestled with their own feelings about the events of the afternoon.  Too embarrassed to acknowledge what had gone on between them, Catriona had ridden back to the keep at a breakneck pace.  Lachlan worked hard to keep the self-satisfied grin from his face, though the longer Catriona maintained her silence, the more worried he became.

This demonstration of her passionate nature gave him great hope for the future of their marriage.  They would forever be bound by the affection forged in their shared youth, but Lachlan had always wanted more than that for his marriage.  In a world where wives were selected for their pedigree and dowry, Lachlan had never been so naïve as to assume he would marry for love.  The best he’d hoped for was a marriage based on mutual respect and concern.  Through luck he’d found that with Catriona.  He didn’t intend to let her go, despite the fact she was too young and too innocent to see the unique gift they shared.

He would simply have to teach her how fortunate they were, and to make her see that to waste such a gift would surely be a travesty.

It was this belief that kept him from running after her when they reached the keep, after she’d leapt from her horse and sped towards the castle at a frantic pace.  As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew she needed time alone to sort through her feelings.

It was only a matter of time before she acknowledged what he already knew existed between them.

He was sure of it.

The reddish-orange glow of the flames reflected off the faces of the men who huddled around the campfire, savoring its warmth.  They were wary, their dirks and swords strapped to their sides, or on the ground near them, within easy reach.  Though others had been charged with guarding the small camp, they were alert, their eyes searching through the darkened horizon for any sign of danger.  The tiny sliver of moon hanging in the sky did little to ease their recognizance, and they knew the bright firelight would be a beacon to any who sought them.  Hunger and the night’s chill had led them to throw the need for security aside in the interest of staying warm.  And full.

Their scant meal of barely roasted rabbit and cold oatcakes consumed, the men passed a skin of almost palatable wine amongst themselves, grateful for what little warmth it offered.  Horses whinnied softly from their shelter among the small grove of pine trees to the south of the campsite.  The men spoke in low, careful tones, anxious not to be overheard, as their leader interrogated a man well out of earshot.

Calum Leslie was struggling to contain his legendary temper.  His black eyes burning with hatred, he turned to fix his fierce stare on the man who stood before him.  “You promised me Iain Ogilvy would be leaving Boyne Castle several days ago, yet he is still there.  If you canna bring me the information I pay for, I see little reason to keep you alive.”  Though Calum’s voice was calm and steady, his words carried a threat the man knew he would not hesitate to deliver, if given the motivation or opportunity.

“Iain decided he canna leave Boyne for long stretches, no’ like afore,” the man pointed out, anxious to diffuse the situation and save his own neck.  “His da is no’ pleased with him, but there’s naught the old man can do about it.  It does no’ help that Seafield is drinkin’ more every day.”

Calum mulled over the man’s abbreviated report, rubbing the coarse, rust-colored hairs on his chin with a grubby hand.  The fact the old laird was failing was good news indeed.  He was one of the obstacles standing between Calum and control of the Ogilvy clan’s wealth.  Still, Iain was a far bigger concern.  Since Elizabeth’s death, and Catriona’s flight from the keep, Calum had focused all his energy on the single goal of wresting control of the land from the inept Seafield. Iain’s disinterest in the running of the Earl’s holdings had been a huge advantage, allowing Calum to implement his plans largely unfettered.  The old fool had trusted him far more than was wise, and Calum had not hesitated to capitalize on every one of Seafield’s mistakes.

Thankfully, there had been many.

It would have only been a matter of time before Calum had amassed enough men to wrest control of the keep from the Earl.  Whether that would have been done peacefully or through a battle that stained the land red with Ogilvy blood hadn’t concerned him overmuch.  But Catriona’s reappearance – and Iain’s renewed interest in the keep – had brought his plans to a grinding halt.

Damn them to hell for their interference.

Though the old Earl was easy enough to manipulate, Iain was too astute to allow Calum continued free rein of his father’s holdings.  Already, the younger man was starting to question Calum’s influence, and he knew his days at Boyne were numbered.  Unless, of course, he could find a way to regain the power and the influence he’d lost.

“What of the lass, then?” he asked his spy, his tone dangerous.

Unable to meet his employer’s threatening stare, the informant nervously fixed his gaze at a point over the man’s shoulder, off into the distance.  “She is well enough at Tolquhon,” he replied, startled as Leslie took a step toward him, “but from what folks say, all is no’ well with her an’ her husband,” he blurted out.

Calum reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder of his plaid, pulling the spy toward him until they were separated by scant inches.  “I do no’ expect to have to beg for yer information, not the way I have been paying you,” he spat out, his breath hot and moist on the man’s face.  “If you do no’ want to take my coin for this work, there are many others who will.”

The man swallowed nervously, afraid to test his employer’s patience any further.  “I did no’ see this for meself, ye ken, but I heard tell she an’ the laird are no’ on verra good terms.  Me man told of a fight the two had in the keep just today.  An’ if they are fightin’ in full sight of others, you ken what kind of battles they must be wagin’ in their chamber.”

So Catriona was not enjoying wedded bliss, Calum thought, shoving the man free of his grasp with a threatening shake.  Not that it was a great surprise, really.  He couldn’t imagine the frigid little fool making much of a wife for anyone, let alone a man like Forbes.  There was little doubt in his mind Elizabeth had been the passionate one in that family.  Catriona was clearly more suited to the abbey she’d fled to than a healthy man’s bed.

Still, the lass was doing him a great favor with her discontent.  Trouble in the marriage gave him a chance to regain the control he’d foolishly let slip through his fingers.  With Catriona out of the way, he would only have to deal with her dull-witted brother, which would likely prove of little challenge.

Calum’s mood was improving rapidly, his scowl lightening until he appeared almost amused. “Does she still favor afternoon rides in the valley, then?” he asked the spy as a smile played at the edges of his mouth.

“Aye, that she does.  An’ the laird is becomin’ less particular about havin’ her escorted.”

“Verra well then,” Calum replied, his dark eyes flashing with amusement as he quickly shaped the plan that would guarantee his future.  “We’d best teach the laird a lesson or two about guarding his property.  When you return to Tolquhon tonight, I want you to take a small group of men with you.  They can wait in the hills until the lass ventures out unescorted.  I do no’ care if it takes days – they will stay out of sight until she appears alone.  Understood?”

The spy nodded his understanding as Calum continued. “Once you have her, I want you to take her to the caves outside Whitehills.  I’ll meet you there with more men.  It is no’ safe for me to go back to Boyne now, not when that stupid whelp is trailing Seafield like a shadow.  Listen well – I do no’ want her harmed in any way.  She is worth far more to me undamaged.”

After the men worked through the final details of the plan, the spy said his farewells and began to make his way to the horses hidden in the grove.  Calum was deep in his thoughts of revenge and glory as the man paused, and turned back to face his employer.  “What of her brother, then?”

“We need no’ be quite so gentle with him.  Another group will be waiting for him when he next leaves the keep for Edinburgh.  Mind you, I’ll be the one who has the pleasure of slitting his throat.  Me and no other.”

The black look in Calum’s eyes left no room for argument.

###

Catriona had a desperately lonely, miserable night after their ill-fated picnic.  The success of receiving her husband’s approval to begin the school had been completely forgotten in the aftermath of the awkwardness of their encounter.

Having called herself every kind of fool, Catriona spent the night berating herself for behaving like a child.  She was surprised she hadn’t worn a path in the stone floor, for she had paced in front of the hearth for most of the evening, cursing her stupidity.  Not only had she acted the wanton – practically throwing herself at the man’s feet – but she had also proven herself to be completely inept.  All she had to show for her carefully planned rendezvous was a seriously bruised ego and a husband with a scarred lip.

It was little surprise, then, that he had not visited her chamber that night.  Nor had he sent anyone to inquire after her well-being when she had not attended the evening meal in the great hall. If Sorcha had not been kind enough to bring a tray to her room, she would have gone to bed hungry and humiliated.  Part of her had hoped he would come to her, that his response to her when she had returned his kiss had been genuine.  The fact he had ignored her instead showed how ridiculous that hope was.

Clearly, she had so repulsed him with her eagerness and inexperience that he couldn’t bear to face her.  Not that she could blame him, really.  This was not the first time she had offered herself to him, only to be rejected.  When would she learn her lesson?

By the time the sun was beginning to peer over the hills to the east of the keep, Catriona had made up her mind to postpone any further embarrassment for as long as possible.  When Sorcha visited her room shortly after dawn, she found her mistress already dressed.  Refusing the breakfast tray the young girl brought with her, Catriona simply grabbed some bread and cheese, stuffing it in the pockets of her dress in the event she might eventually regain her appetite.  Unable to bear the thought of encountering her husband, Catriona instructed Sorcha to go to the stable and have her horse saddled.  That way, she would be able to leave the castle by the servant’s entrance, and with any luck would be quick enough to avoid seeing him.