Highlander's Caress: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 2) (7 page)

“Ella.” He murmured her name, clamped her backside tight and kissed her just as greedily as she kissed him, his hips rocking against hers and his shaft a hard rod of steel poking into her belly.

“I like your kisses, Duncan. I want more of them.” She molded her body to his, left not one inch of them separated.

“You are clearly intent on ravishment.”

“Aye, I am this night.” She couldn’t keep her smile at bay. “We will make a good match, no matter you’re a MacKenzie and I’m a Matheson.”

“I willnae take advantage of an innocent lass in the dark of the night, and while on enemy soil no less.” He rolled her over under the furs, came up over her and kissed her with a breathless urgency that thrummed through her too. “Ella.” He skimmed her sides, slid his hands under her. “Dinnae encourage me any further.”

“When you’re ready to trust me with your secrets, then I’ll be here.” She seized his biceps and kissed him again, passionately, until the heat between them blazed and swarmed her senses.

“Have to stop,” he muttered as he lifted his head. Panting, he rolled off her and onto his back, pushed the covers clear of their heads and peered through the thick fog.

Mayhap they should stop. They were on his enemy’s soil and two of his men remained close. She could just make them out where they kept guard near his half-beached galley.

“I want you to close your eyes and rest.” Firm words, his gaze unarguable as he faced her on his side.

“Only if you stay with me.”

“Of course.” He grumbled some more under his breath and she snuggled against him, the blankets a haven a warmth surrounding her, just as his presence was.

Slowly, she drifted, never more at peace than at this moment. Aye, he was her chosen one, and of that she no longer had any doubt. Only now, she needed to make him see so as well.

Ha. That might just be her greatest mission to come.

* * * *

A seagull screeched overhead and Ella stirred awake as a soft breeze rose. She stretched and pushed the covers back off her head and smiled. The skies had lightened, dawn close and the cloying fog beginning to swirl away. The misty silhouette of Duncan’s two guards standing on patrol near the galley became clearer, while at her side her mate snoozed and although he’d denied their bond last eve, she’d never have fallen asleep so readily beside him if he didn’t hold the other half of her soul. Smiling wider, she ran her fingers through his black locks and touched her nose to his. “Wake up, my stubborn one.”

“I need more sleep,” he muttered and hooked his arms around her waist. “It cannae be morning yet.”

“’Tis close and we must dress afore your men return.”

“Dress, aye.” He blinked his eyes open, kissed her forehead then grumbled loud and long as he sat up and reached behind him. He snagged his satchel next to the fire and grumbled some more. “I shouldnae be kissing you.”

“You’re clearly no’ a morning person.”

“I simply find it annoying to wake up next to you.” He foraged within his bag, pulled out a tunic and eased the soft blue cotton over his head then thrust a pair of brown rawhide breeches under the covers and shuffled into them. Once dressed, he slipped out, stuffed his feet into his boots and sheathed his claymore at his side before passing across her bag someone had kindly thought to leave for her. “Hamish hung your wet clothes on the branch behind you. Dinnae forget to collect them.”

“Thank you.” She flipped open the top flap of her bag, pulled out her blue breeches and cream tunic, shoved them under the blankets and dressed while he turned his gaze away. “We might be mated, but clearly ’tis too dangerous for me to stay here with you when one of your men tossed me overboard. Even though he apologized for having to do so, I must still leave. I cannae take the risk to my life, no’ when Ethan needs me, my mama too.”

She shuffled out of their warm cocoon, tugged her riding boots on and slid her dagger inside an ankle sheath.

“I’ve already told you that none of my men would dare harm a lass. You must be mistaken.”

“I understand your loyalty belongs to your men, and rightly so.” She couldn’t fault him for his trust in his men. “Although there have simply been too many years of warring between our clans that cannae be forgiven or forgotten. So many fear my skill as well, particularly when ’tis well known I could kill a man if I wished, and with only one word.”

“I’ve given you my vow of protection.”

“I’m most grateful for it, but it isnae enough at present.”

“You’re remaining here with me, and I’ll have it no other way.”

“Spoken like a true mate.” On her toes, she smiled and kissed his cheek. “Mayhap we’ll continue this conversation later. I require a few moments of privacy so I might tend to my needs.”

“Of course, although dinnae wander too far.” He stormed down toward his guardsmen.

Wonderful. It appeared she’d been gifted with the most stubborn mate there was. She slung her black coat on and once wrapped within its warmth, ducked into the trees. She trekked a hundred feet inland then once she’d found a thick bush, crouched behind it. Done, she walked back to the beach and washed her hands at the water’s edge.

Duncan still stood with his two guardsmen, his arms crossed over his wide chest while behind him the sun breached the horizon and sent a heavenly wash of gold and pink streaming through the pale blue sky. The ocean’s skyline outlined him to perfection, her warrior who was armed and ready for the trials of the day to come. Unfortunately, she’d likely continue to be one of them.

She plodded to her bag and sat, pulled out an oatcake and ate. As she finished her meager meal, a team of his men trekked out of the woods with a dozen fish hanging from a long stick between them.

Two of the men set their catch over the fire, added more logs to keep it ablaze while the others dispersed about the beach, some washing up where the waves tumbled into shore and others perching on low boulders along the grassy verge of the bank. None cast her any strange looks or seemed overly worried about her. Who on earth had decided to do her harm? If she could pinpoint the man, ’twould make things far easier.

Another team of men returned, the warrior at the head holding clear Viking heritage, his pale hair shining a golden-white in the morning sun and his legs as thick as tree trunks.

“Ivor!” Duncan hailed the man over and the Viking joined him. Gripping the man’s shoulder, Duncan asked, “Did you find aught?”

“We tramped to the village at the tip of Loch Ainort, spoke to a lad who said no fog had descended on them. The boy had caught sight of a vessel out on the water during the night, one holding six or seven men. It sailed on down Loch na Cairidh toward the Isle of Scalpay. Once we learnt of this, we turned and tramped back.”

“That’ll be Gavin MacDonald for sure. We’ll break our fast and sail directly to Scalpay, see if we can spy him there. The others willnae be far away so break your fast now afore we leave.”

“How does the lass fare this morn?” Ivor glanced her way, worry swirling within his striking green eyes.

“She fares far better than she did last eve, although has declared one of my men tossed her overboard, right afore apologizing to do so. Keep a listening ear out for any dissension amongst the ranks. I dinnae believe one of my men would ever harm her, but should that no’ be the case, then I’ll have that man’s head for what he’s done.”

“Aye, my laird. I’ll keep out a listening ear.”

“Good.” Duncan walked away from Ivor and crouched next to the fire. He tore some of the cooked fish free and ate as he eyed her.

A standoff. She could handle such from him.

Another team of men returned with plucked geese swinging from their hands and they skewered the meat onto sturdy sticks and propped it over a rack to cook.

“You appear hearty and hale this morn, a welcoming sight for certain.” Smiling, Hamish dropped in beside her, having appeared right out of the woods. “Is all well?”

“Aye, I’m much better, although I wouldnae mind getting my voice fully back.” Whispering all the time wore on her.

Leaning closer, he murmured, “Your ability to compel shall come and go this day, then be far more reliant by this eve.” A knowing glimmer flickered in his gaze. “Give Duncan some time. He’s no’ yet ready to accept you and your bond.”

“You’ve
seen
that what I’ve said is true?”

“Glimpses here and there, but enough to confirm you two are in fact soul bound.” He patted her leg, this fae-blooded seer now possibly her greatest ally. “I’ll do what I can to aid you in your mission with him.”

“More so I’d rather have your aid in another matter. I was tossed overboard last eve, didnae fall at all. The man apologized first, clearly fears me and what I can do. Did you see aught?”

“Nay, and like most fae seers, I dinnae always see all.”

“I understand.” ’Twas the same for Nessa, the seer within their village. She tucked the rest of her belongings away in her satchel, pushed to her feet and nodded at Hamish. “Do excuse me.”

“Of course.” He nodded and headed across to the fire, plucked some meat from one skewer and leaned against a tree to eat.

Time for her to go. She walked down toward the shoreline where her skiff sat beached on the sand near the galley.

“Ella.” Duncan stormed after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving, as we discussed.”

“Nay, you’ll be staying, as we discussed.”

She rested one hand on his chest. “I need to continue my search for Gavin, although I can no longer remain on board your vessel to do so. Our time to part has come.” Aye, her mate would continue to deny their bond unless she perhaps forced him to see the truth. Their coming separation would aid him with that, as well as ensure her safety by distancing herself from the warrior who’d thought to do her harm. She stepped away, tossed her bag on board the skiff and shoved her boat into the water.

“You cannae leave.” He grasped her arms.

“I can and I am.” She cleared her throat, pushed harder with her voice to raise it higher and prayed her compelling tone would come forth. “You will allow me to leave without any hinder.” Her voice rang with authority, with an unmistakably hypnotic demand. Thank goodness. “I will always be an annoyance to you, until you choose to see the truth about our bond and accept it.”

His blue eyes clouded over under her compulsion, one he couldn’t fight.

“Close your eyes, Duncan, then count to one-hundred, nice and slow, and once you’re done you may open your eyes again.” His long lashes fluttered down and carefully, she slid her arms free of his tight grip, kissed his cheek and murmured, “I wish you a safe journey. You may begin the count.”

“One, two, three...” Hands fisted at his sides, he rocked where he stood, the burnished hilt of his massive two-handed claymore glinting at his side.

She shoved her skiff deeper into the water, clambered on board and with the oars in hand, rowed from the center seat. Once she’d cleared the surf, she raised the sail and took one last look at her chosen one still standing on the beach, his eyes closed and teeth gritted.

Hopefully, he’d forgive her for what she’d just done, would come to his senses afore too long as well. Aye, leaving him right now was her only option, no matter doing so pained her to the very depths of her soul.

“Four, five, six.” Eyes shut, Duncan growled under his breath. Counting was the last thing he wished to do when all he wanted was to chase Ella and bring her back to his side, only breaking her compelling demand was damn impossible. “Seven, eight, nine.”

“Duncan?” Hamish’s voice wafted over him.

“Give me a moment.” What blasted number was he up to? “Ten,” he muttered, eyes still squeezed shut, the compulsion to count overriding all else. “Eleven, twelve…” Endlessly, he continued on. “Ninety-nine, one-hundred.”

He reached the magic number and opened his eyes, dragged in a deep breath then growled at his second-in-command. “Speak to me.”

“Are you feeling well?” Hamish stared at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Ella wanted to leave, so I let her.” His gut roiled into a seething mess. Out at sea, she’d already rounded the tip of the bay and disappeared from his sight. “She insists one of my men tossed her overboard and that she’s safest away from me.” Around the fire and along the grassy verge, his men broke their fast. Each and every one had stood staunchly at his side during the war that had raged these past years. He couldn’t separate any one of them out as the possible culprit.

“I never
saw
anyone wish her any harm, but right now we need to focus more on what she’s clearly compelled of you. If you wish to fight her compulsion, then you must look inside your heart for the truth.” Hamish grasped his shoulder. “How do you truly feel about her?”

“She’s forced our separation.”

“You have no’ been forthcoming with her. Mayhap ’tis time you shared the knowledge of how you came to hold fae blood with her. She is blood kin to me and I can assure you, she can be trusted.”

“No one knows about my fae blood other than you and those I trust implicitly.”

“Do you no’ wish to claim her as yours?”

“How can I when that would release my secret?” Even he could no longer ignore the signs that they were soul bound, but that made little difference when he had kin to protect. He expelled a long breath, tried to calm his aggrieved thoughts. The surf washed into shore and the sun rose higher and glimmered over the blue-green surface and as it did, his mate sailed even farther away from him, so far now beyond his reach.

“You are the son of a chief, and none would ever dispute your decision to take her for yourself so you might ensure her strong fae blood flowed directly within your line. You could easily keep the truth of your fae heritage to yourself and simply weave the story you wish to tell.” Hamish leaned against the galley, tapped the heel of one booted foot in the sand and waited.

“You mean speak a mistruth?”

“I mean you should omit the truth, which you currently do regardless.”

“And what of her close ties to the MacDonald? That I cannae allow to continue.”

“There is no halting a compeller.” He grinned. “She’ll be a handful your mate, but she’s still yours all the same.”

“I cannae lose her, no matter the secrets I hold.”

“Your need to protect her rages just as strongly as her need to protect you does.”

“She sails through dangerous waters.”

“I take it then ’tis time for us to set sail as well.”

“Aye, although I will have a lot of explaining to do with her when I find her. Rally the men.”

“’Tis about time you issued that order.” With a look of satisfaction, Hamish pushed off the galley, his black leather vest pulled tight across his shoulders and his sword gleaming at his side. He trekked across the beach and yelled to the men, “Extinguish the fire! Our laird wishes to set sail after the lass who’s left. We have plenty to do this day, to find her and then to hunt down Gavin MacDonald.”

* * * *

With the wind filling the sail, Ella cruised alongside the coastline of Scalpay, the isle almost perfectly round and easily navigated. She searched for any sign of Ethan and Gavin, from the smallest inlet to the wide bays where the forest butted right up to the edge. Finding them was imperative, and preferably before Duncan did too.

As the morning passed and the afternoon wore on, heavy gray cloud swept in across the skies and the waters swelled, the wind whisking through with chilling intensity. Up ahead and set a hundred feet back from the water’s edge, smoke curled into the air from the thatched roof of a wattle and daub inn, while a half dozen skiffs sat beached on the pebbly shore before it. She scanned the vessels, although none appeared large enough to hold seven hefty men.

Ropes firm in hand, she turned the sail a touch and with her booted feet braced along one side, crested the waves rolling into shore. She’d seek shelter at the inn for the night. She could do little more this day with the encroaching dark.

As her skiff cruised into shore, she dropped the sail and bounded into the knee-deep waves. With her breeches plastered to her legs, she pulled her boat up onto the curve of the bay and secured it to the closest boulder where it would remain out of reach of any incoming high tide.

The wind blasted through swifter and stronger. Thunder rumbled and lightning speared the sky, a jagged bolt of sizzling yellow. The ever-darkening clouds burst open. Rain pummeled down, pinged off the boulders and slammed into the sand.

Bag in hand, she raced up the broken-shell trail as a lad darted from the inn’s side door and bounded over a rail into the corral. He caught the reins of a horse and urged the big black beast inside the stables. The rain beat down harder and drenched, she halted under the protection of the inn’s overhanging eaves and dripped water everywhere.

Candlelight danced from behind the latticed windows to one side and the planked front door with its cast iron door knocker, beckoned. She lifted the rapper and knocked.

The front door swung open and a crinkly-eyed man wearing brown trews and suspenders over his cuffed shirt waved her in. “Come inside out of the wet, lass. The wife has mutton stew cooking if ye wish some.”

“Thank you.” Mutton stew. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips. “The storm hit so fast.”

“Aye, storms blow in quickly in these parts. We’ve travelers aplenty who’ve sought shelter here this night, so join in the merriness.”

“I’m looking for my brother, Ethan Matheson. Might you have seen him?” She stepped inside, stamped the sand from her boots on the thick matting of rushes. “He’s been sailing with Gavin MacDonald and his men.”

“My wife is the one ye need to ask since she tends to the guests, but I’ve no’ seen any Mathesons or MacDonalds in a good week or two if that’s of any help.”

“Oh my, the lass is wet through.” A flush-faced woman with strands of gray hair trickling free of the knot atop her head, bustled past the man and wiped her hands on the loosely-tied brown apron covering her ample waist. “I’ll secure ye a chamber and find ye something dry and warm to wear, lass.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She followed the woman up the stairwell leading to the top landing. Doors led off either side of the darkened corridor lit only by the odd candle in an iron wall sconce. At the far end, a young maid of mayhap two and ten swept the floorboards, her brown kirtle too long by an inch and almost tripping her up.

“Lizzie,” the matronly woman called. “Did ye change the linens in the burgundy chamber?”

“Aye, Mama.”

“Good, lass. Fetch me the lacy blue gown from the spare trunk in my chamber, the matching slippers too, then come and light the fire. Hurry, child.” The woman opened a door halfway down the hallway and Ella followed her inside. “This burgundy chamber is all yours, for as long as ye need it. It overlooks the sea and the mainland in the distance.” The woman ambled across to a chunky trunk sitting at the end of a large four-poster bed, the burgundy canopy sweeping down to the floor. She pulled out a drying cloth and a clean shift, nodded at her. “I’m Miriam. Do ye wish for aid in undressing?”

“Aye, Miriam, please. I’m Ella, from the House of Clan Matheson.” She shrugged off her wet coat and draped it over the wooden rack near the hearth.

“Did I hear ye say to my husband that ye were looking for your brother?” Miriam hunkered down, unlaced and plucked her boots free then propped them to one side.

“Aye, his name is Ethan and he’s been sailing with Gavin MacDonald and his men. Seven of them altogether. Have you seen either him or Gavin by chance?” Shivering, she eased her damp cream shirt over her head and laid it over top of her coat.

“I’ve no’ seen those whom you speak of, but I’ll keep an eye out and be sure to holler if they arrive. Let me get your breeches for ye.” Miriam loosened the ties of her breeches and helped shimmy them down her legs before adding them to the rack. “Being a Matheson, do ye hold the skills of the fae?”

“I’m a compeller.”

“Oh, ye dinnae say.” Eyes wide, she beamed as she flapped out the drying cloth and wrapped it around her. “Then ye must be the lass we’ve heard about, the one that’s said halted the last battle between the MacDonalds and the MacKenzies at Dunscaith Castle.”

“Aye, I did.”

“Some dinnae believe the tales told about your clan, but I surely do.” Miriam circled her, patted her dry then lifted her dripping hair and rubbed it with the cloth. Done, Miriam slid a shift over her head and the soft white cotton slithered down and brushed the polished floorboards.

Cold air whooshed into the chamber as Lizzie arrived and the lass shut the door behind her, a blue gown in her hands. She handed it to Miriam then knelt at the hearth to light the fire. She pulled husky bark from a log, struck flint with a dirk then once the sparks had caught, laid twigs over top and added a block of peat. The fire crackled and flames sizzled an orange-red hue, an additional welcome heat Ella desperately needed.

“Arms up, if ye will.” Miriam lifted the gown to her head and she raised her hands and sighed as Miriam slipped the soft fabric over her then shuffled in behind. Such warmth encased her, the blue velvet swishing to her ankles. Lace edged the sleeves as well as ran down the front and ringed the hem.

At her back, Miriam cinched the bodice in tight and laced the stays then came back around in front and adjusted the low neckline, which sat all scalloped with the sleeves draping half off her shoulders. Never had she worn such a revealing gown that showed so much cleavage before.

“Och, ye look stunning, and the gown is a perfect fit for ye lovely curves.” Beaming, Miriam knelt with a pair of matching blue slippers in hand and slipped them on her feet.

“You’ve been so kind.”

“Think naught of it.” Miriam opened her dripping satchel and hung her damp clothing from within over the remaining slats in the wooden rack. Her belongings would dry soon enough and she could don her beloved breeches again once they had.

“Take a seat and I’ll fix your hair. You’ve got it into an awful wind-tangled mess.” Miriam picked up a brush from the side table.

“I’ve been out on the water all day.” She perched on the chair while Miriam swished in behind her, separated each section of her hair then mindful of the tangles, took care as she brushed out the wet length.

“Lizzie, pop down to the kitchens and bring back a cup of hot tea with a spoonful of honey. Mistress Ella has a raspy voice and the tea will work a treat on it.”

“Oh, I’d dearly love that.” She almost cried at the thought.

“Right away, Mama.” Hands bunched in her aproned skirts, Lizzie hurried out the door.

Ella tipped her slippered feet toward the roaring flames. Out the window, the rain lashed the pane and beyond, the waves crashed in and the skies darkened further as night fell.

She relaxed into Miriam’s gentle brush strokes and when Lizzie returned with the promised tea, she sipped the soothing sweetness which trickled down her parched throat and made more tears spring forth. The worry she’d carried for days now pummeled through her, as did her decision to leave Duncan this morning. Mayhap she shouldn’t have compelled him, but he’d truly left her with no other choice.

Aye, she wanted her mate, but only if he could be as committed to her as she wished to be with him. Certainly she desired the relationship her parents had been gifted with during their time together, a deep love than no one could ever tear apart.

“Are ye all right?” Miriam patted her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She wiped her tears away.

“Ye are without your brother and have been searching for him. Such a thing can wear a lass down. I certainly wouldnae wish to be without my kin.” Miriam set the brush down on the side table and crossed to the door. “Come downstairs once ye’ve finished your tea. A hot meal awaits and I’ll bring ye some bread and stew to fill your belly.”

“You’ve been so kind. You have my immense thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” With a soft smile, Miriam left with Lizzie.

She sipped her tea and once she’d finished the sweet brew, to the very last drop, she rose and walked downstairs, her skirts tickling her legs. It had been a long time since she’d last donned a gown and she fidgeted with the low neckline and tried to lift it a touch, only it budged not one bit.

At the edge of the main room, she halted where the tall screens separated the tables and on her toes, searched amongst the patrons. At the far table underneath the window overlooking the mist-shrouded forest beyond, two warriors sat on the benches with two young women seated between them. In the center of the room, families with small children chatted as they ate.