Highland Sinner (27 page)

“At least there she only has to worry about two people wanting her dead instead of a whole cursed town.”

“Exactly. Are ye going to confront her with what ye believe?”

“I dinnae ken. Part of me wishes to, but another part doesnae see any gain in it. She thinks she is protecting me in some way.” He shrugged. “I will see how I feel about it all when I get back to the tower house.”

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“Tell me, have ye decided what ye are going to do about Morainn once this is all over?”

“Ye mean if the fool woman is still alive?” He hated to even say the words and the look of knowing amusement that flickered across Simon’s face irritated him. The man knew him too well. “Nay, I havenae. About all I can think of right now is how I should like to spank her fair backside for nay telling me all that she saw.”

“That could prove interesting,” drawled Simon.

Tormand was surprised he could, since his emotions were so tangled and few of those emotions were good or calm ones, but he laughed. Nodding a farewell to Simon, he began his stealthy way out of town, keeping a close watch for anyone following him. The end of this trial was drawing near; he could feel it.

He just prayed Morainn would be there to celebrate with him.

Chapter 15

Standing in the doorway to the room he and Morainn shared, Tormand fought to calm himself. He had warred with himself for the whole journey back to her side, going from angry with her to understanding why she had not told him the whole truth. It would do no good to rush in now and demand she tell him everything she saw in her dream. Such a confrontation would serve no purpose except, perhaps, to allow him to ease some of the anger that still swam in his veins. He could not even claim that she had lied to him; she simply had not told him everything. He still had the feeling that she felt she was protecting him in some way. He wondered if it was fair to deprive her of that.

She moved around the room gracefully and efficiently as she made them something to eat. The scent of a rich rabbit stew filled the air and tugged at his stomach. He had not taken the time to eat anything while he was at Simon’s except for a small meal to break his fast. Once he had realized that Morainn had dreamed of her own death he had not felt very hungry anyway.

Tormand knew that the depth of the fear he felt for her meant that his other feelings for her also ran deep.

It certainly explained why he was so angry, even a little hurt, that she had not told him the full truth. He could not keep ignoring the fact that he was getting more entangled with Morainn Ross with every hour he spent in her company, with every moment that they spent in each other’s arms. He no longer felt the need to flee from that or from her, either.

“Ah, ye have come back and just in time,” she said and smiled at him. “I am cooking the rabbit ye caught for us yesterday.”

“It smells good,” he said as he walked into the room and sat in a chair near the rough stone fireplace.

Taking a deep breath, he added, “Verra good indeed. Simon obviously supplied us verra weel.”

“Och, aye, he did.”

She poured him a tankard of ale and handed it to him. He murmured his thanks and gave her a small smile. It felt good to cook his meal for him and to greet him this way when he returned to their shelter.

Morainn could see the danger in that, however. She was settling into the ways of a wife more than just a lover and Tormand Murray did not want a wife. Even if he did, he would not choose the bastard daughter of a witch burned by the townspeople and one who was thought to be a witch as well. A man like Tormand could reach very high indeed when he finally felt like marrying and begetting a child or two.

At the thought of Tormand giving some other woman a child, Morainn felt such a pain in her heart she
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was surprised she did not cry out. Instead, she quickly turned her attention back to her cooking so that he could not see that pain in her eyes and wonder on it. The stew did not really need close watching, but she hoped that Tormand, like most men, did not know a great deal about cooking.

By the time she got her emotions back under control, Morainn started to feel that the silence in the room was not a companionable one. There was a tension to it that troubled her. She looked at Tormand only to find him staring morosely at the wall. Something was bothering the man, but Morainn was a little afraid to ask what it was. Her mind was rapidly filling her head with all sorts of possible reasons for his strange behavior and none of them were good. It could be that he brooded over their failure to catch the killers, but it could also be that he brooded over the fact that he was stuck in a ruined tower house with a woman he was already tiring of.

Even though she was curious about what Simon had said concerning her dream and about what was happening concerning the hunt for Ada and Small, she did not ask. Morainn decided it might be safer, if only for her poor misguided heart, just to wait until he felt like talking again. She forced all of her attention and thoughts on the work she had set out for herself. Stitching flowers onto linens for Nora’s dowry chests would keep her busy and she was heartily pleased that she had had some brought to her to work on. The tedious chore would help keep her from worrying about all the reasons Tormand had become so strangely quiet.

It was not until long after they had eaten and Morainn had returned to her needlework that Tormand was finally able to shake off his dark mood. He was not a man given to brooding much, but he had obviously learned the way of it. After a while, however, it had begun to feel too much like self-pity.

He looked at Morainn busily stitching pretty flowers onto what looked like a cover for a pillow and grimaced. She had been slipping around the room like a ghost, obviously sensing his bad humor. His anger over how she had not told him that she had seen herself as the next victim had finally left him. He actually found it oddly touching that this tiny woman who had been unwillingly pulled into this tangle because she had a gift, would try to protect him in any way.

He would let her keep her secret. He would also not tell her how hard everyone was working to find the cottage she had described, of how desperate they were to find it before she did become the next victim of the killers. His inability to join the other men in that hunt was one reason he had fallen into such a black mood. Morainn was his woman and he should be the one out there hunting down the ones who meant to do her harm.

His woman.
Tormand decided he liked the sound of that. Possessiveness was not something he had ever suffered from before, but he definitely felt possessive about Morainn.

“Your friend means to take a lot of linens to her marriage, doesnae she?” he said, smiling at her when she gave him a startled look.

Morainn could see no signs of the strange mood that had possessed Tormand when he had first arrived and she inwardly sighed with relief. She had been thinking she ought to go to bed as it was very late, but she had been hesitant to bed down with Tormand when he was in such a bad humor. Now she felt alert, sure he would soon give her an explanation for his long, silent study of the walls.

“She has no lands or money, but she wishes to bring some things of value to her marriage,” Morainn replied. “All the women of her family are sewing and doing needlework night and day. I am glad that your brother Uilliam was able to bring me this work to do.”

“If all the work is as fine as yours, James’s kin will be verra impressed.” He sighed. “I apologize for being such poor company these last few hours. I fear I succumbed to self-pity.”

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“Self-pity? Over what?”

“This trouble we are mired in, these murders so many wish to blame on me, and the fact that I must hide away here whilst Simon, my brothers, and my cousins hunt down
my
enemies.”

“Aye, I suspicion such things would be a sharp pinch to the pride of any mon.”

He laughed softly. “Ye dinnae sound verra sympathetic to my woes, love.”

“Oh, I am. But—”

“Aha, the infamous
but
.”

She ignored his teasing. “Ye have a verra good life awaiting ye when this is all over. Yet, if ye joined the hunt now ye could lose all of that; ye could lose your life. To give in to pride and go out ahunting these monsters with the others would put yourself right back in harm’s way. Others could be hurt or killed, as weel for the crowd, if stirred into a frenzy as they were the night they surrounded your home, might try to attack ye e’en if ye have a half dozen armed men riding with ye. Or more. In their fear and anger they would fight with the ones trying to keep ye alive and find the real killers. In the eyes of the mob, the ones protecting ye would also be seen as the enemy.” Once finished she was a little afraid that she had far over-stepped her bounds, but he did not appear angry.

“I ken that,” he said quietly. “’Tis why I didnae fight coming here to hide. I trusted Simon to ken when it was time for me to find a bolt-hole. I but find it verra difficult to accept that from time to time.”

She slowly nodded and asked, “Are they closing in on these mad dogs?”

“The noose is finally tightening around their necks, aye.”

“Good, for that is what is truly important.” She shook her head. “’Tis a shame that the ones who were heaving rocks at your house couldnae be made to see the truth. Then ye could have used some of them to help ye find the killers and ye wouldnae be held prisoner here any longer.”

“Weel, ’tis a verra fine prison. And ye are right. I would be naught but a hindrance, either because my presence would stir up a mob again, and that could put everyone in danger, or because we would all have to be so verra careful that I wasnae seen by anyone, there would be little hunting going on. As Simon said—he wouldst rather catch the real killers
before
I hang.”

“Simon Innes has a rather dark sense of humor.”

“He does, but some of that may come from the fact that he deals with a lot of verra dark things. Simon has seen nearly every evil one mon, or woman, can do to another. Sometimes I worry that such work is slowly eating away at his soul.”

“Or his heart,” she murmured. “Was anything I saw in my dream of help to him?”

Tormand nodded. “It was and he is already putting it to use.”

“Did the name of the woman help? I was not sure which it was—Ada or Anna—but I find I am already calling her Ada in my mind.”

“I think Simon believes it is Ada, too, although he hasnae been able to get any real information on MacLean’s wife, and his own memory of meeting her is too faint to trust it. He cannae find any of the servants who worked for the MacLeans, which is verra strange.”

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“I hope that is because they fled the place and nay because they are also dead. These two are filling far too many graves.”

Tormand stood up and held out his hand. “Come to bed, Morainn. Let us talk no more of monsters and death.”

She blushed, but set aside her needlework and put her hand in his. He tugged her toward the bed, stopped just at the edge of it and kissed her with such gentle passion she was feeling dazed when he stopped. Tormand then moved to bank the fire and snuff all the candles save for the one next to the bed.

Morainn felt a little less shy as the light in the room dimmed to a soft glow. It was foolish considering how often they had made love, but she was still shy about him seeing her naked.

Kissing the blush upon her cheeks, Tormand slowly undressed her. He took his time, savoring each new patch of skin that he uncovered. It pleased him that she looked dazed with desire by the time he settled her down on the bed. He knew he had stirred passion in other women, but it made him feel far more satisfied to do so in Morainn. It also stirred his blood in a way that no other woman’s look of desire ever had. The desire of those other women had always been simply a means to be sure his need was satisfied.

With Morainn, he wanted her to feel all the passion she was capable of, and his own needs were no longer all important to him.

He removed his clothes swiftly, tossing them to the floor, and then crawled into bed with her. Tormand’s own hunger for her prompted his speed, but so did the knowledge that Morainn was still uneasy about being naked with him, about him seeing her body. He did not want that shyness to intrude and cool her ardor now. Tonight he was going to love her as he had never made love to another woman.

Morainn eagerly welcomed him into her arms. She could see his desire for her blazing in his eyes and that look always eased the fears she had about risking her heart with this man. The feel of his warm skin against hers made her sigh with pleasure. Morainn did not think she could ever grow tired of that feeling.

Although she quickly grew eager for him to possess her fully, he took his time. Morainn tried to control her rising desire, for she loved the way he made her feel with his touch and his kisses, and she wanted to savor it for as long as she could. She no longer flinched in shock when he kissed and caressed her breasts, but arched up, welcoming every touch of his hand and the warmth of his mouth.

“Ah, love, ye are so beautiful, so warm,” he murmured against the soft skin of her flat belly. “Ye taste like the finest mead and I can get drunk on you.”

She wanted to return his flattery, but the way his clever fingers were stroking her womanhood made it hard to put two coherent words together. Morainn did not know how he could talk while making love.

When she was in his arms like this she did not doubt his desire for her, felt certain it ran as hot and fierce as her own, and yet he could talk. She could barely say his name.

Then, suddenly her eyes widened with shock, and she felt her hunger waver. He was kissing her
there
.