Devil in a Kilt (37 page)

Rather
than follow them into the darkened chamber, he remained looming near the arched
opening, saying nary a word as the Sassunach busied himself rekindling the fire
and Elspeth bustled about like a mother hen, lighting tallow candles with
shaking hands whilst murmuring reassurances to Robbie. The boy sat by the
hearth, his arms wrapped tightly around the neck of his dog.

The
strapping youth, Thomas, hovered just inside the door, his long arms hanging
loose at his sides while he repeatedly nudged the floor rushes with the toe of
his well-worn boot.

Stepping
away from the opened door and into the deep shadows of a wall embrasure, Duncan
finally set Linnet on her feet. He took a firm hold on her elbows and looked
deep into her eyes. "So, my sweeting, what is this dire warning I must
heed? What meaning do you see behind this two-headed man of flame?"

"He
was not of flame," she said, uncomfortable even recollecting the
frightening image. "The flames surrounded him. ‘Twas as if he stood in
the very mouth of hell itself."

Duncan
folded his arms across his broad chest. "And what do you make of that? Do
you foresee a fire? Shall I have wet hides and buckets of water made
ready?"

Linnet
glanced downward at her tightly clasped hands. How could she tell him she
didn't know the vision's meaning? Had he not listened when she'd told him she
could but guess?

"Well?"
he asked, leaning back against the stone wall.

"I
know not, my husband," she said after a moment's hesitation, the words
barely audible even to her own ears.

He
gave her a penetrating look, the kind that made his deep blue eyes appear
black, as dark as the hair sweeping back from his proud forehead. "Then,
pray what do you
think
the vision meant?"

Linnet
wet her lips. It was hard to concentrate, even difficult to breathe, when he
stood so near and peered at her with such an intense look upon his handsome
face.

"I
think—I think," she began, fair stumbling over her own tongue, "it
was a warning."

"So
you've told me," he said, capturing her face between his warm hands.
"‘Tis what you fear may happen I would know."

"I—I
fear the flames meant the two-headed man is of the devil. A man filled with
evil," she told him, giving voice to her fears. "And I believe the
two heads speak of one who would betray you. A friend you dare not trust."

"A
friend?" Her husband looked doubtful, almost amused. He didn't believe
her.

She
could tell.

"You
doubt me," she said the words as a statement, not a question.

Duncan
dropped his hands from her face, catching her own in his larger ones, lacing
his fingers with hers. "I vow I wish to believe you, lady, but a
friend?
"

She
nodded. "So the message feels to me. I cannot say who would do you false,
but of the two heads, one smiled whilst the other was vile. Evil." She
squeezed his hands, trying to make him understand. "Please, ‘tis important.
I know it. Someone you trust speaks with two tongues. You must beware."

To
her great relief, a look of dawning comprehension stole across his face.
"And so I shall. ‘Tis no doubt Kenneth you saw. He is a master of deceit
who would seek to charm you whilst hiding a well-honed blade behind his
back," Duncan reasoned.

"He
fooled my father thusly, ever playing on our sire's largesse," he went on.
"When we were young, he had me deceived too. For a time."

Linnet
shook her head, she
had
to convince him. "Nay, it was not Kenneth I
saw. ‘Tis certain I am, and whoe'er he was, he bodes ill and ..." Her
words trailed off when he slipped a hand beneath her hair and began caressing
the back of her neck.

"Linnet,"
he said, his voice cajoling. "It can be no other. Kenneth is a haveless
nithing who would defile any and all things what, in his twisted mind, keep him
from attaining what he wants."

"Nay,
ple—"

Duncan
silenced her by placing two fingers against her lips. "I'm thinking the
warning came because of this most recent terror he's wrought unto my people.
Never has he dared go so far and he willna get away with it. ‘Tis nary a soul
amongst my men who'll rest until he's breathed his last."

"You
mean to kill him?"

"There
can be no other way. I cannot turn my back on such carnage as he's allowed
himself this time," her husband vowed, his voice cold. "His vicious
acts cannot be undone, but we shall claim retribution, and it will be swift and
without mercy."

Botheration
welled inside Linnet's chest. He still didn't believe her. The saints knew her
husband must exercise vengeance on his onerous half brother, but
she
knew
the two-headed man in her vision hadn't been Kenneth.

Nay,
the wretched creature foretold a danger yet to come.

A
danger her lord husband refused to see.

Tears
of frustration pricked the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. From
somewhere close behind her, footsteps approached, then a man cleared his
throat as he neared the alcove where she and Duncan stood in the shadows.

"Your
lady's maidservant and the boy are settled, the fire stoked," the
Sassunach told her husband. "By your leave, I shall see who Fergus has
sent to the battlements."

"Aye,
go. I'll join you shortly," Duncan said, stepping forward but keeping her
in the shelter of the deep wall embrasure with a firm hand to her elbow.

From
outside the alcove, Sir Marmaduke peered at her as if he meant to say
something, but he must've decided otherwise, for he gave Duncan a brisk nod,
then left them alone.

The
moment he disappeared up the turret stairs, Duncan turned back to face her. He,
too, peered at her strangely, but unlike the look Sir Marmaduke had given her,
this
look sent heat coursing through her and made her feel as if she'd soon melt
into a puddle at her husband's feet.

Without
a word, he drew her tight against him. Her hands splayed against the solid wall
of his chest, the hard coils of his black mail shirt pressing into her palms.
Crooking his fingers under her chin, he lifted her head, forcing her to look at
him. The unbridled desire in his eyes ignited an equal fire deep in her own
core.

Still
silent, the passion in his eyes all the words he needed, he brought his mouth
dangerously close to hers. "I'd meant to spend these hours in your arms,
loving you," he said, his each word sending a whisper of warm breath over
her lips, "but I canna pleasure you as I am wont to do when all and sundry
occupy our bedchamber."

Linnet
raised her hand, placing it gently upon his jaw. He drew in a sharp breath at
her touch, as if she'd scorched him. Then he slowly turned his head and pressed
a gentle kiss into her hand. She sighed, her knees almost going out on her when
he began flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across the tender skin
of her palm.

"Aye,
lass," he vowed, his voice ragged, "I burn with need for you, but a
kiss must suffice for I dare not tarry in joining Marmaduke on the
battlements."

"Will
you be long?" Linnet almost did not recognize her own voice, so breathless
were her words. "Shall I await you here?"

He
seemed to consider, but then shook his head. "Nay, I will not return this
way. ‘Tis best I bed down in the hall with my men."

"Must
you? Can you not sleep in our chamber? The others will surely be deep in
slumber by the time you return, they will not disturb us," she coaxed,
emboldened by the insatiable hunger he stirred within her.

Of a
sudden, she was athirst for more than just his kisses, blissfully forgetful of
the dangers lurking so near. And willing herself blind to the pained look she'd
seen pass quickly o'er his face when she'd mentioned Elspeth and Robbie.
"Please," she tried again, melting against him, her skin tingling in
anticipation of his touch. "Please reconsider."

"You
tempt me beyond all bounds," he breathed, lowering his lips to hers. He
slanted his mouth over hers in a fierce kiss, claiming her lips, her passion,
her very soul, in a way she could no longer deny.

She
opened her mouth beneath his, inviting the sensual sweep of his tongue against
hers. Desire flared inside her, a raging, all-encompassing fire.

An
unquenchable need.

An
unbearably sweet ache.

"Saints,
but I burn for you," he breathed, moving his lips over her face, neck, and
shoulders. With the tip of his tongue, he licked at the sensitive skin beneath
her ear, then gently nipped his way up and down the curve of her neck.

The
place between Linnet's thighs began to throb with a heavy, pulsing warmth she
could scarce endure, so intensely pleasurable was the sensation.

"Did
I not know better, I'd swear you've cast an enchantment over me," Duncan
vowed, threading his fingers through the unbound mass of her hair. He lifted
great handfuls to his face and breathed deep as if he meant to savor the
essence of her tresses.
Of her.
Letting go of her hair, he smoothed his
hands over her shoulders, easing down her still-unfastened cloak until it
pooled at her waist.

Chill
air washed over the heated skin he'd bared, passing without resistance through
the thin barrier of her linen kirtle to caress her as enticingly as if unseen
hands would ply her nakedness, tease and taunt her with a deliciously cool and
smooth length of finest silk.

"Touch
me," she whispered, and he obliged, closing his hands over her breasts. He
kneaded them, gently at first, then in a more bold manner, toying and plucking
at her nipples through the linen of her gown until they hardened beneath his
fingers and her entire body quivered with sheer pleasure.

Lowering
his hands to her hips, he pulled her close against him. Before Linnet could
release a single sigh of contentment, he hoisted up her skirts and slipped one
hand between her thighs.

"‘Tis
soft as an angel's sigh, you are, lass," he breathed into her hair, while
his fingers caressed the moist heat of her most private place.

With
a sharp intake of breath, he stilled the gentle probing of his fingers and
simply cupped her, pressing his hand firmly against her woman's flesh. Then he
began moving his palm over her in a slow, circular motion. A floodtide of
exquisite tingles washed over Linnet's mound, whilst a spiral of pulsing
excitement whirled inside her, threatening to spin out of control and shatter
any moment.

As
if a score of the devil's own mischief-makers spurred him on, Duncan used his
fingers again, simply stroking her at first, then idly toying with her damp
nether curls as if he had all night to pleasure her.

But
he didn't, so when she gave a sweet sigh and arched herself against his hand,
Duncan moved a single finger, his middle one, over the tight little bud of her
sex—and rubbed.

Her
eyes widened and her musky, woman's scent rose up to swirl around them.
"This is passion," he told her, his voice husky with his own raging
ardor, his senses set afire by the intoxicating scent of her desire.

With
his free hand, he took one of hers and pressed it hard against his rigid shaft.
"When this madness with Kenneth has found an end, I shall keep you abed
for seven days and seven nights."

"I
shall love you until you beg me to cease." He watched her carefully as he
spoke, waiting for the instant her eyes would grow heavy-lidded with desire.
When the moment came, he increased the pressure of his touch, moving his finger
in an ever-faster circle over her need until she sagged against him, trembling,
her breath leaving her in one long, shaky gasp.

"Merciful
saints," she whispered, clinging to him.

"Nay,
my lady, I vow such pleasures are more of a devilish nature," he said,
withdrawing his hand and letting her gown drop back into place. "Keep
yourself safe while I am gone. There is much more of passion I would teach you,
but I cannot if you are not here to learn. Do not even think to attempt
anything foolhardy in my absence, or I shall be greatly aggrieved upon my
return."

He
leaned forward to kiss her, and in that moment, a commotion could be heard on
the ramparts above. He drew back from her, his handsome face gone pale.

Unable
to bear the way he stared at her, Linnet took hold of his arms and clung to
him, refusing to let him brush her aside. His expression frightened her, for he
stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. ‘Twas as if he'd just
discovered he'd been dallying with the bride of Lucifer and not his own lady
wife who deeply cared for him.

"Please
... please do not look at me that way," she implored him, wishing she had
the courage to voice her true feelings, beseech him to cease punishing her for
another woman's sins.

If
Cassandra was the reason for his stony-faced expression.

She
wanted to supplicate him, nay, urge him, to fight his inner demons as bravely
as he would face his physical foes, beg him to seek not only the quenching of
their bodily needs, but those deeper still as well.