Laird of Darkness (7 page)

Her blush deepening, she refused to look at him. “I shall check on Neill again and see him settled in private quarters, but I cannot sit at high table with you.”

Though Alana was no longer locked in Duncan’s bedchamber, she was still a prisoner in his castle. Guards and servants watched and followed her all day. She preferred the privacy of the bedchamber, along with the warmth and pleasant memories of what she’d experienced there.

From the window, she gazed out over the majestic Highlands toward the south where some of the mountains were bare gray rock, and others appeared covered in bright green velvet. Huge white clouds billowed beneath a bright blue sky.

Only three more days and she would have her freedom. The soldier, Neill, had mended quickly and gone back to sword practice. The clan was astounded at his fast recovery. But that was ever the way with magical healing.

MacClaren had sent no more of his men to rescue her in the past two days. Why, she did not know. Had he given up on having Alana for his bride, or was he planning a more severe attack? She doubted he would exchange his magical bow for her in any case.

He likely thought her not worth the effort and expense. MacClaren would find a bride elsewhere. In many ways, she was glad. Because she feared she was in love with Duncan. Though she was not sure how he felt about her.

Last night he had come to her where she slept in his bed, and they had indulged in more passionate lovemaking. She sensed a desperation in him she had never felt before. But afterward, he walked out, leaving her to sleep alone. He often looked tired and Alana feared he was sleeping very little. What would Duncan do if he couldn’t acquire MacClaren’s bow?

Kinnon MacClaren could not believe his own sharp eyesight. Duncan MacDougall strolled upon the ramparts of distant Keirness Castle—alone and unguarded—in the bright sunlight. Didn’t he usually laze about in bed for hours every morn? Kinnon frowned, narrowing his eyes to improve his focus. Indeed, ’twas his black-haired, black-hearted half brother with a smug smile of satisfaction upon his face.

Aye, Kinnon was certain MacDougall was proud of himself. He had tricked Kinnon’s men into rescuing the wrong woman—a mere slave, not Lady Alana herself. And while the slave was lovely enough to inspire lust in any man, with her golden hair and azure eyes, she was not Alana. Kinnon still needed a lady wife to bear him fine sons.

Though he had searched the distant castle windows each day, he had not seen Lady Alana. Where was she? In the dungeon? Was she even alive? The blonde slave, Sophie, assured him Duncan was being kind to all his hostages, but Kinnon doubted the truth of it. The woman likely attempted to appease him by telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. She’d told him she’d only seen Alana once, sitting at high table. Kinnon had accused her of a lie. Why would MacDougall allow a hostage to sit at high table? Unless—Kinnon could hardly bear to think on it—unless he had taken her…and used her for his despicable lusts.

The demon spawn had raped her.

“I shall kill him for that,” Kinnon growled and stormed down the narrow stone steps. Moments later, he held his precious
Dealanach
bow in his hands as he climbed the steps again to the ramparts.

The bastard remained where he had been. Kinnon’s acute hearing picked up MacDougall’s deep voice and a laugh as he talked with one of his men.

“Prepare to die, you devil.” Kinnon placed the bow upon the stone floor beneath his feet and strung it. Sliding a golden arrow from the quiver, he notched it and squinted at his faraway enemy. His half brother was now staring directly at him, a frown upon his arrogant features.

“Want my arrows do you, black-hearted villain? I shall give you one at least.”

MacDougall disappeared, his shirt and plaid floating to the roof.

“Damnation,” Kinnon muttered. Where had he gone? He knew MacDougall could vanish at will. ’Twas what he was infamous for, but he could never disappear completely. Always a glowing red spot, his vile heart, remained.

There it was. The red spot darted and sailed about the roof, taunting him.

Kinnon took aim, pointing the bow at the sky, instinctively sensing whether the trajectory was accurate for such a great distance. He released the arrow and watched it fly like a streak of sparkling light. A moment later it pierced the red spot and MacDougall slumped to the roof.

The bedchamber door burst open. “M’lady Alana,” Angus shouted.

Heart thumping in her throat, Alana whirled from the window. “What is it?”

“That bastard MacClaren has shot Duncan through the heart.”

Cold fear washed over Alana, near paralyzing her. An arrow through Duncan’s heart? He might already be dead. “Where is he?”

“Bring him in,” Angus yelled.

Two men carried Duncan into the room. He was naked but for the plaid wrapped about his hips.

A golden arrow shaft protruded from his chest. She grew light-headed and queasy, her knees weak. Nay! Duncan could not die now.

“Is he alive?” she whispered, dreading the answer. She should check for herself but remained frozen in place.

“Aye, m’lady. Barely,” Angus said.

How in Hades could MacClaren do this to his own half brother? “Leave the arrow in place until I return,” Alana said, forcing herself to think clearly. Taking her satchel, she raced down the stairs. As she passed through the kitchen, she asked for boiling water to be taken to Duncan’s chamber. In the kitchen garden, she sowed the appropriate seeds, vervain, hyssop and rosemary, with trembling fingers. Chanting a spell, she watched the seeds grow into knee-high plants. She quickly clipped them off with her small dagger and returned abovestairs to Duncan’s side. The water was waiting for her in a bowl. She plucked the leaves from the herbs’ stems and dropped them into the water, which she then stirred with a wooden spoon.

“Close the door and wait outside,” she told the men.

All the men left except Angus, Duncan’s second in command and cousin. “I cannot do that, m’lady,” he said sternly.

“Angus. You know I would never harm him. I love him, just as you and the rest of the clan do.”

His eyes growing misty, he blinked rapidly, bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

Heart tripping along, Alana whispered enchantments while she stirred the leaves and water, hoping to infuse the tea with the strongest healing magic possible.

Duncan lay silent and still, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Never had her healing skills been so vital to her. She tried to focus on the details of the ritual, not her emotions. Not her fear.

Once the tea had steeped sufficiently, she cooled it and tested it. Aye, ’twas strong and the right temperature. She dripped some around the wound, where the arrow still protruded from that scarlet circle birthmark on his chest. She then noticed the birthmark wasn’t a circle. Instead it was slightly heart-shaped, branded with faint Celtic symbols.

Her eyes filled with stinging tears, but she wiped them away and continued the treatment.

Moments later, the bleeding stopped and the tea disappeared into the wound itself. She drizzled tea into his mouth. He coughed and swallowed.

“Drink more, Duncan. Do you hear me? You must drink more.”

When he drank two more swallows, she was grateful.

Hoping Angus still waited in the corridor, she ran to the door and opened it. “Angus, I need your help.”

The burly man strode forward.

“If you would please, turn him on his side and hold him up. We cannot withdraw the arrowhead through the front. Aye? So we will shove it through and break off the tip, then the shaft can be pulled back out the front.”

“Are you certain this won’t kill him?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“He will recover. But the arrow must be removed. If we can do it while he sleeps, he won’t feel the pain of it.”

Angus nodded, blinking back the moisture in his dark eyes. “That damned MacClaren. I shall see that he pays.”

“Shh. Try to remain calm. Take a deep breath and focus on your loyalty and love for Duncan.”

Angus nodded again, but still appeared ready to throttle someone.

Once the arrow was removed, she poured more herbal tea into the wound, which bled profusely from the back. But within seconds of the tea entering the wound, the bleeding stopped. She poured more tea between Duncan’s lips. He drank, turned his head aside and murmured words she couldn’t understand. His breathing improved, as did his skin color.

“Now, you see. He is recovering,” she whispered, tears of joy filling her eyes.

“’Tis a miracle, m’lady,” Angus said. “You are a blessed healer.”

“I feel most fortunate to have been given this gift.”

“I’m hoping you’ll stay with us. We need you, lass.”

She hid a sad smile, wishing she could stay, but she had underestimated MacClaren. Mayhap he did still want her. He was willing to kill Duncan for her, after all. But she didn’t think she could marry a man who attempted to kill his half brother. Surely he was a barbarian.

’Twas not how it was supposed to be. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of a conflict. Brothers should love each other.

“I thank you for your help, Angus. I can see to him now.”

“You deserve all the thanks. I have faith you can heal him.” Angus again gave her privacy, and she murmured the ancient healing spells her wise grandmother had taught her. Finally, she stitched up the arrow wounds.

For the rest of the day, she did not leave Duncan. Instead, she continued to ply him with healing herbal tea every hour along with chanting and prayers. And she often pressed a cool, wet cloth to his fevered forehead.

His breathing and heartbeat grew stronger with each treatment, and finally his fever broke, drenching his body in sweat. She bathed him head to toe with warm water and soap. Once she’d finished, his skin was normal temperature, and the wound in his chest healing.

Just before sunset, he opened his eyes.

“Duncan! Thank St. Bride!” Tears obscuring her vision, she kissed his forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Och. Like I was trampled beneath a herd of stag.”

She smiled and stroked his whisker-rough skin.

He glanced down at his wound. “Last thing I remember is the pain of MacClaren’s golden arrow piercing my chest. I thought I might have breathed my last breath.” His dark, soulful gaze returned to hers. “You’ve saved my life, lass.”

She shrugged, unwilling to take all the credit. The healing power and knowledge only came through her like a channel.

“To repay you, I give you your freedom,” Duncan said, his voice raspy.

“Completely?”

“Aye. You may go to Kinnon MacClaren if ’tis what you wish.” He turned away, looking agonized of a sudden.

“Are you in pain?”

“Nay.”

He might not be in physical pain, but letting her go clearly caused him much angst—for which she was thankful. Not because she wanted to see him suffer, but because it told her how much he cared for her. While he’d been passed out, she’d come up with a plan.

“I thank you for my freedom.”

He nodded, but still would not look at her.

She pulled the blanket over him, up to just below his chest. “You must sleep now so you can heal and recover.”

“Nay.”

“Don’t be daft. You’ve hardly slept at all while I’ve been here.”

“Thank the gods I awoke before nightfall.”

“Oh, you mean the Otherworld creatures would attack you even if you were unconscious?”

“Aye.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, as if ashamed of this fact.

“Well, ’haps I can keep you awake all night. Then we will both sleep in the morn.” Unable to believe how much she cherished him, she would help him in any way she could.

“I would like that.” He observed her in a focused, sensual way. “Come here.”

’Twas hard to miss the blanket tenting over his groin. “What? You are not recovered enough. Have some wine.” She offered him the silver goblet.

“Nay.”

“Food? I’ll have a maid bring broth.”

“I’m not hungry. Just come here. Lie with me for a moment.” His obsidian eyes were most seductive, but what broke through her resistance was the need she saw there, the vulnerability. Something that said even though he gave her freedom, he would miss her when she left.

She lay down next to him. Turning on his side, he pulled her close into a warm embrace then spread the covers over them. She sighed, absorbing how blissful he felt. Strong, solid and protective.

“I doubt I could sleep with your luscious body next to mine.” He kissed the top of her head. Then, tugging her closer, he pressed his cock against her belly.

“At least rest if you won’t sleep, you rogue,” she whispered.

A moan-chuckle escaped him. “You’re making me feel better already.” He palmed her derriere and ground his pelvis to her.

“Cease.” She smacked his shoulder lightly. “I demand that you rest and recover.”

“And I demand that you help me with my…needs.”

“You are horrid.”

“’Twas not your opinion of me last night.” His smile lightened his tone.

Nay, indeed, last night he had been magnificent. Recalling the decadent pleasures made her restless with desire. She kissed his chest, careful to avoid his injury, which appeared more healed each time she glimpsed it.

“I’m so thankful you are recovered,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes for she couldn’t believe how much he had touched her life, nay, taken it over in a mystifying but wonderful way.

“As am I, thankful to you.” His hand wandered over her back, up to her neck, where he stroked lightly, tickling. His touch was careful and affectionate.

She flicked her tongue against one of his small, hard nipples.

“Mmm, you tempt me,” he growled, then slid his hand down her back and gripped her hip. “You’re doing naught but making my needs more intense.”

She stroked her hand down over the ridges of his abdomen, to his flat lower belly and ran her fingers through the sprinkling of hair. Her fingers bumped into his cock, and she lightly rubbed it with her fingertips. “Must I help you with this severe swelling?”

“Aye, if you please,” he rasped.

He might not be up to all the thrusting required for lovemaking, so she had to do something he would like, which would give him a release and relieve his frustrations.

She grasped his granite-hard cock and stroked up and down as she had seen him do. Growling, he wrapped his hand around hers to tighten the grip.

She stared down at his cock clasped within both their hands as they stroked it. So huge and potent, it looked delicious, like something she wanted to kiss. Removing their hands, she slid down next to him and kissed the tip.

He groaned. “Och, lass! Don’t tease me,” he said through clenched teeth as he gave her a dark look.

She shook her head and flicked her tongue against his firm flesh.

He hissed, his whole body tensing. He would just have to be patient. She wished to explore him.

The sexual, clean-soap scent of his groin put her into a trance, made her wet, and she could not resist a second kiss. She had bathed him earlier. Then, his shaft had been smaller and soft. She could not believe how fast it could grow into something this large and hard. Aching with arousal, she licked the velvety tip. ’Haps she was a shocking wanton, but she could not resist the erotic feel of him.

“Alana. Take my cock into your mouth.” His murmur was harsh, needy. “Suck it.”

Could she do such a thing? Carnal hunger overtook her and she slid the big head into her mouth. Oh, the taste and feel of him were irresistible. She wished to devour him, swallow him. She drew his cock deep into her mouth and held the shaft with her hand, still stroking. She ached, yearning to have it inside her quim.

Moaning, she nibbled at the flushed crown, licked around the edges and down the shaft, determined to taste every inch of him. She then suckled on the head again.

With a growl, he pulled her atop him and yanked her skirts up. “Ride me, you lusty wench.”

The hard ridge of his cock slid upward along her slit. The moisture made her glide across him easily, his hardness so stimulating to her.

“Allow me inside you,” he whispered against her lips. “Slide my cock into your wee juicy pussy.”

“You are shocking.”

He grinned. “I shock you?”

She shook her head and lifted herself. Nay, his words only aroused her more. Taking his shaft, she nudged it against her crotch where she ached for him.

“Aye,” he said between clenched teeth and thrust his hips. When the head slid in, she gasped, craving him even deeper. Instinct forced her to press down upon him. The more she had, the more she wanted.

Again, he thrust his hips forcefully, lodging himself deeply within her. She cried out, her head thrown back in abandon. Her thoughts scattered and her whole focus was on him. He filled her so perfectly.

“That’s it, lass, ride me.” His big hands on her hips, he lifted her, then made her sink down again. She caught on to this rhythm and did it herself. Her hands on the mattress by his shoulders, she stared into his fathomless eyes, near closed with bliss. His teeth clenched fiercely. His moans, growls and abrupt thrusts told her how much he enjoyed it. She tried to concentrate on the movements, part instinct, part what he’d taught her. She ground herself down on him, swiveling her hips around a bit while her inner muscles wanted to clench upon him. This he responded to with even louder groans. “Alana. Aye, ’tis good.”

Her arse cupped in his hands, he drove into her vigorously for several delightful strokes. Then stopped, breathing fast as if trying to get himself under control. He licked his thumb, pushed his hand beneath her skirts and stroked that sensitive spot above where his cock was embedded to the hilt. His thumb rubbing there did unbelievable things to her.

“Come for me, lass,” he urged. “Now. I wish to feel you squeezing my cock.”

Alana lifted herself and sank down on him again. All her muscles clenched onto the ecstasy that possessed her. He thrust his hips and she could barely hold on in the storm of passion. He growled and jerked against her, his hot seed erupting within her.

“Oh.” A moment later she collapsed on his chest. His hard breaths rushed in and out by her ear. She moved off him, to his side. He turned and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace.

“You amaze me.” Duncan clamped his teeth together before he said something daft to embarrass himself. But in truth, she was amazing. He had never experienced such elation as she gave him. No other woman had ever satisfied him so thoroughly. But it wasn’t only the carnal pleasures. Something in her soothed him like a balm to his soul. He felt more alive in her presence.