Every Heart Has Its Day (22 page)

“My patience grew thin. The king’s peaceful measures had not garnered yer release.” He paced the corridor several times, then stopped in front of her. “His majesty snubbed my plan to send Dillon into the Cameron holding, and he forbade Mackintosh presence there unless an emissary squired us.”

“Ye twice disobeyed the crown for me?” At his nod, her knees weakened. He had sacrificed his integrity and risked the king’s censure. For her.

“I beg ye to understand.”

She held up her hand. Dare she believe? A tear fell.

“I shall serve whatever penance the king metes with a smile so long as I ken ye will stay by my side.”

Her heart threatened to burst. She threw her arms around his waist. “I love ye, Connor Mackintosh.” She kissed him harder than ever before.

“Ahem.”

She pulled away and grinned at Broderick.

“Ye have kept the king waiting long enough.” Broderick bowed and then swept his hand toward the room.

Connor bowed and Kasey curtsied after they reached the desk at the far end of the chamber. At the king’s behest, they sat. Broderick handed a heavy sack to Connor.

He untied the thong and peered inside. “My liege?”

“It be my honor and duty to give ye Kasey’s dowry.”

“The Camerons could not afford a dowry.” Kasey turned to her father, “Be this yer doing?”

Broderick shook his head. “I be but one of the king’s emissaries, my dear. Though it be an enviable position, I fear it pays not well.”

“From where did the gold come?” Connor asked.

“Ye ken I did aught but declare war to secure Kasey’s release. I believed, due to Cameron’s greed, the levy would end the matter.” The king shook his head. “As we all know, it infuriated him. Be that as it may, I set aside each collection to use as Kasey’s dowry. The money be yers.”

The color drained from Kasey’s face. Flashes of the lash struck. She spun toward Connor. “Did ye know of this?”

Confusion covered his face, but she disregarded it. She rose and towered over him. “How many coins does the sack contain? Be it enough to cover each of the scars I bear? Will ye accept blood money?”

He avoided her gaze.

She threw her hands into the air. How could fate finally bring them back together and then deliver another blow? She fell into a chair and put her head in hands.

Broderick knelt at her feet. “Connor dinna ken aboot the dowry. If ye must cast blame, throw it upon me.”

She raised her head. “At ye?”

“I swear I had no idea of yer ordeal.”

“Mayhap had ye deigned to check on me ye would have known.”

“Enough!” The king pounded a fist on the desk. “We all own a share of the blame for the nightmare ye suffered, but ye have no right to wound the two men who love ye.

“Connor had no knowledge of my plans for the monies. And ye owe yer father an apology. He dinna trust himself to check on ye, but he hung on every emissary’s word. Can ye not see Laird Cameron tied our hands?”

“Nay, my liege. Ye allowed him to tie yer hands.” Kasey pushed past Broderick and, wishing she could see the falls, stalked to the window. “For the second time, I served as a sacrificial lamb for the crown.”

Rushes rustled behind her. She hoped Connor would come to her, soothe her, and give her strength, but she feared he could never forgive her outburst.

Someone tugged on her plait, but she did not turn.

“The Mackintosh coffers overflow, but even if we be poorer than dirt, I wouldna accept the gold. I married ye for love, Kasey, naught else. Ye alone will decide what be done with the gold.”

She had no idea how to dispense the funds. So many had suffered under the Cameron’s heel, she could not choose between them. Then an idea struck her. She turned and placed her hand on Connor’s cheek. “Forgive me, milord?”

He nodded.

She took his hand. “Yer Majesty? With my laird’s agreement, I would see most of the money used to rebuild the Cameron holding. The clansmen who remain there deserve a better life.”

“What of the rest?”

“I would have my mother’s grave moved to consecrated grounds and a memorial placed atop.” She looked up. At Connor’s nod she fell into his open arms.

He kissed her brow. “I believe my wife has found an agreeable solution.”

“I shall so order.”

Kasey walked over and placed a hand on Broderick’s arm. “Please forgive me?”

He embraced her. “I love ye, daughter.”

Chapter Twenty Two

Connor settled Kasey across his lap, then urged his horse forward. His mounted clansmen soon surrounded them, and they began the journey home.

Each beat of the horses’ hooves took him closer to his responsibilities. Although he knew his father would allow no lapse, Connor also understood only the laird could attend certain duties.

He regretted he would not have time to ease Kasey into her role as the Lady of Mackintosh Castle. Lord knew she would need guidance. But time and again, Kasey had shown her quick mind and ability to adjust. If need be, she would find her own way.

He nuzzled her neck. The fortnight past had been a nightmare, but all that mattered curled in his arms.

“I be sorry, milord.”

“For what, milady?”

“My thoughtless words this morn.”

Connor tucked her head under his chin. “Ye have apologized countless times. Since we canna change the past, we move forward.”

“But I truly regret my outburst.”

“Ye still distrust me, and naught but the course of time can prove me honorable. Worry not, my love. I be up to the challenge.”

She threaded her arm around his waist and snuggled against him. Her other hand crept up his chest to the unlaced top of his tunic where her fingers slowly traced circles on his bare skin.

Her innocent caresses heated his blood. “How do ye feel today?”

“I be fine, milord.”

“Be ye in much pain?”

“Nay. My shoulder heals well, and my back barely aches.”

He cleared his throat. “And the rest of ye?” He slid his hand across her knee, along the valley between her legs.

“Och!” She shoved his hand to her hip.

Her breasts weighed on his upper arm. “If ye dinna sit still, I may forget ye be tender.”

She shrugged.

He nipped her earlobe. “Mayhap ye wish me to forget?”

“Mayhap.”

Blood rushed to his nether region. He could barely contain his excitement, though he still worried. “I be sorry I hurt ye last night.”

“Did ye?”

He chuckled. “It pleases me ye find yer duty no burden.”

She turned away, but not before Connor caught her frown. “Aught troubles ye?”

She sighed and raised her gaze. “I willna deny I enjoyed yer touch, but...”

The longer he waited for her to finish, the more tightly he gripped her waist.

“Could ye please loosen yer hold?”

He did as she asked. “Tell me what troubles ye.” He had no idea what thoughts coursed through her mind, but her hesitance did not bode well.

“My duties must involve more than bedding ye.”

“Aye.” He caught her hand and thumbed her calloused palm. “Yer first duty will be to rid yerself of all signs of drudgery. Ye no longer be a slave, and I forbid ye to look like one.”

“Ye canna expect me to sit idly by whilst my hands soften.”

“Nay.” He fingered the length of her kirtle. “Though this be lovely, I canna keep ye occupied each time it needs to be cleaned.” Connor hoped Kasey’s blush meant her thoughts leaned toward their pallet, too. “I expect ye and the seamstress to increase yer number of kirtles.”

She huffed.

“Ye will learn the rest of yer responsibilities as time passes.” In truth, Connor doubted he could name them all. “However, there be one duty ye canna shirk.”

“Milord?”

“Healing all those who seek yer aid.”

She squeezed his waist so hard he thought her arms would snap. Pleasing this woman required so little. How could he deny her?

“Milord.”

Connor looked over at his brother and then followed Dillon’s gaze. They frowned at the approach of the MacBain patrol.

His father had often mentioned the clan’s aspirations to join Clan Chattan. Connor thought them an unpredictable brood whose allegiance proved more fickle than the weather.

He placed Kasey on his brother’s lap and nudged his horse into the lead. Eight men surrounded her. Connor raised his hand, silently commanding a halt.

Laird MacBain rode forth. “I see ye have captured yer prey, Mackintosh.”

Connor nodded.

“I canna believe a man in yer position would defile himself with such rubbish.”

Shards of sunlight sliced Connor’s reddened vision. He flew from his mount and knocked the other laird to the ground. Mackintosh warriors unsheathed their swords and separated the MacBains from their leader. Connor slammed the laird chest-first into a tree, then jerked one of his hands up between his shoulder blades. “I suggest ye watch yer tongue, MacBain. Despite my father’s opinion, I have never trusted ye. Disrespect my wife agin, and I will kill ye.”

“Ye need not pull my arm from my shoulder, mon.”

Connor pulled his hand higher.

“My apologies, Mackintosh.”

“Better, MacBain.” Connor maintained his hold as he shoved the man over to Kasey. At his nod, the wall of Mackintosh warriors moved aside to provide but a small opening. “May I present Lady Mackintosh?”

“Forgive me, milady, but I seem to be in no position to bow.”

Kasey squirmed. At Connor’s nod, Dillon lowered her to the ground. She curtsied to Laird MacBain. “A pleasure.” She looked at her husband. “I believe.”

Connor released the MacBain’s hand and grabbed him by his tunic and trews. He turned and tossed the laird onto MacBain land.

Kasey gasped. He winked at her, then mounted his stallion. After she settled across his lap, he nudged his horse around and glared at the prone laird. “Next time, ye will not live to speak of yer mistake.”

****

A warm breeze from directly overhead pulled Kasey from slumber’s arms. Moonlight reflected in Connor’s eyes. A contented smile graced his lips. She turned, eager to see what had softened his countenance.

The higher she raised her gaze, the lower her heart fell. Dear Lord, had she married purgatory’s gatekeeper?

“What do ye think?”

“This be yer home?” She rued her inability to keep panic from her voice.

“Our home, Lady Mackintosh.”

Hope for a denial dashed like water over the falls. No matter how often she blinked, faint candlelight glowed from windows on three floors. Three very long floors. And the turrets. So high, the guards must see naught but clouds on rainy days.

He lifted her chin, but she could not drag her gaze from the formidable fortress.

“Kasey?”

She swallowed. “Yer home be quite large.”

“Mayhap my forebears went to extremes.”

“Oh?”

“An attack burned the original keep to a pile of ash. My clan cleared every stone from the surrounding fields to build the castle ye see.”

“Be ye sure they dinna use every stone in Scotland?” She looked up at him. “If I get lost, how long will pass afore someone finds me?”

“Moments.” He kissed the top of her head.

By the time they crossed the valley, Kasey could hardly breathe. She prayed she alone would not bear responsibility for its upkeep.

He held her as he dismounted and carried her up the stairs, then let her body slide along his until her feet met stone. Her legs straddled one of his. Hands on her buttocks, he leaned down and nibbled her lips. “Wait here, milady.”

Wanting a closer look at the railed, stone porch, she spun—right into a warm linen wall. She leapt back too far. Her heels perched precariously off the edge of the step. She flailed her arms.

Before she fell, the man grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. She looked up to thank him, but his glorious green eyes stole her words.

“Ingram!”

Kasey started at her husband’s voice.

The man stepped away from her and bowed. “Welcome home, milord.”

“I see ye have met my wife.”

“Not formally, milord.”

Connor pulled her to his side. “Lady Kasey Mackintosh, this be Ingram, my third-in-command. For now.”

Ingram chuckled as he bent low. “At yer service, milady.”

Kasey curtsied.

Connor growled, then lifted her into his arms, and carried her through the entry. “Never agin will ye curtsy to any save myself, another laird, or our liege,” he whispered between nibbles on her ear. “Do ye find him to yer liking?”

Kasey could not decide which disconcerted her most: Connor’s touch, the gentle way in which he chided her, or the tinge of jealousy in his tone. “He has beautiful eyes.” Kasey looked over Connor’s shoulder and laughed. Ingram waved at her as he danced around the corridor. “He be quite a jester, too.”

She caressed Connor’s twitching jaw muscle. “A man like him must fight off bevies of women. I wonder how he will manage now?”

Connor raised a brow.

“All the women who once chased after ye will have to settle for him.”

“Ye may not believe this, milady, but very few women found me to their liking.”

She toyed with the hair at his nape. “I be pleased to hear that, milord.”

She thought her heart would burst with love—if his heat did not first render her to ashes. She threw caution to the wind and kissed him.

He groaned and pulled away. “Ingram, any matters I need deal with afore the morn?”

“An heir, milord?”

“Tell my father of my return, and inform my commanders I will meet with them after we break our fast.”

“Be ye and yer lovely lady hungry, milord? Though the servants be abed, I could find ye some fare.”

Connor remembered too well Ingram’s sole attempt at preparing fare and the two days he spent with the chamberpot afterward. “Thank ye, but I wish my bride to live until morn.”

He lifted a candle from the table at the base of the stairs and handed it to Kasey. “I prefer to tumble into our bed than stumble down the steps.”

“Ye be aware, milord, that I can walk.”

“I loathe putting ye down.” He lowered his eyes. “Sometimes I fear this be a dream, and if I release ye, ye will vanish.”

Connor opened the first door on the right, crossed the chamber, and gently set Kasey upon the massive, four-poster bed.

She ran her hands along the tick and gloried in its softness. Every fowl must have given its feathers for the stuffing. She wondered if Connor would mind if she bounced on it.

Such a childish thought. She was married now, as the man disrobing across the room proved. She should probably allow him privacy, but she fancied staring at his naked buttocks. Her gaze followed the edge of his tunic as he lifted it. His scar, naught but an errant white string on a freshly tilled field, had lengthened, yet she had never seen a stronger back.

The previous night she had been too fearful to touch him, though his hands, lips, and tongue had seared her entire being. She yearned for the heat and strength of his embrace. She craved the boldness to stroke him, to taste him.

How wanton she had become after just one mating. What would happen in years to come?

If her marriage followed her mother’s, Connor would turn his attentions to another.

“Be aught amiss?”

She could not tell him of her fears without comparing him to Laird Cameron—a match he had not appreciated. He had thrown a man much larger than she a great distance. Though in her heart she believed he would never hurt her, her head remained unsure.

He moved around the bed and knelt at her feet.

Unable to bear his concern, she glanced around the room. She needed to find aught of no real import to blame for her distress.

“Kasey?” He placed his hand on her knee.

“Ye have only a bed, a chest, and a chair in the chamber.”

“I dinna believe ye worry over lacking furnishings.” He crawled across the bed and yawned as he pulled up the cover. “On the morrow ye can do as ye please to make this chamber more to yer liking. I shall probably see little of ye afore the evening meal, but Evonne can show ye aboot.” He blew out the candle.

Her heart sank to her toes. She had not known what to expect upon their arrival, but she had not considered an abrupt dismissal. Mayhap she had not pleased him, and he had already decided to take a paramour.

She felt around for the plaid lying on the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She moved to the hearth. Now that the hunter had captured his prey, the prey no longer mattered? She had been a fool to believe his confessions of love. How could he bandy the word about so carelessly? Did he not understand her need to feel cherished above all else?

She sniffled. Mayhap her past had stained her image of love. Broderick could not have truly loved her mother else his pride would not have prevented him from giving her his name. Her mother’s marriage had been a farce orchestrated by politics.

She closed her eyes. Dear God, please do not let Connor’s love be based on naught more than my tie to the crown.

As Kasey lay down, she decided love, if it really existed, was as clear and deep as a mud puddle. Mayhap as a way to cope, people gave it more import than it deserved.