Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (19 page)

She burrowed closer, burying her face against his neck.

Branan sighed, not wanting to leave the bed, but knowing he had no choice. He gently disengaged himself, kissing her cheek, and wrapped his plaid around him enough to dart into the garderobe.

He returned a moment later, only to find Catriona buried under the blankets. He chuckled, moving them away to search for her face, but she remained lost in the mound. “Ye canna be that tired, lass.”

“Just incredibly sore,” she said, her voice muffled. Catriona moved the blankets away and pulled him to her, kissing him intensely.

It seemed now that Catriona was allowed to give her passion free rein, she took full advantage. Branan returned her kiss, feeling the first stirrings of desire grow again. He reluctantly pulled away. “Lass, I want nothing more than to stay in bed with ye, but there are things that need my attention. They canna wait.”

“Aye,” Catriona said reluctantly. Her stomach rumbled. “I need to eat. I didn’t touch any food yesterday.” Upon her words, Branan saw a shadow pass over her expression—the haunted look he had seen yesterday returned.

“Hey now,” he whispered, tugging her chin up so she saw only him. “Yesterday is gone. We canna do anything to change it.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. “Yesterday...aye...but last night...I would never change a thing.” Catriona looked up at him, her sapphire eyes liquid. “It felt as if everything in the world was suddenly made right again.”

Branan’s arms tightened around her and he squeezed his eyes closed. She had just put to words the exact same thing he had felt.

Unfortunately, Catriona pulled away. She donned a robe and hurried to the garderobe as well. Branan dressed then glanced at the bed, stopping the moment he saw the evidence of their joining. He had not allowed himself to think on it last night. Catriona’s marriage had not been consummated. Although the man within him rejoiced that he had been the first and only man who had touched her, the warrior and laird knew it was a serious problem. Catriona was not truly de Courcy’s wife. Strickland could petition the bishop’s court and request the marriage be invalidated. She would lose control of de Courcy’s holdings and Branan would still lose his future.

An idea blossomed and he quickly stripped the bed. He called for a maid to redress it. Before Catriona returned, Branan thrust the linens into a small bag, then hurried downstairs.

Outside, he found Gavin and Jamie.

“Morrow,” Gavin said with a smile. “How is my sister?”

“Just fine,” Branan replied.

“Duguald stayed at the keep to make sure things are stable there. Now that Catriona is lady of Brackenburgh, we didn’t want anyone attempting to usurp her position.”

Branan was uncertain how much Gavin genuinely understood, but was not about to give him details of Catriona’s love life. Branan called for a page to fetch his horse. “I need to speak with Duguald, but I’ll be back shortly. After that, we need to plan our next step. Strickland thinks he has dealt us a grievous blow; I want to hit him so hard he will never attempt to do something like this again.”

Gavin’s humor faded, his blue eyes steely. “Aye, Branan.”

At Brackenburgh, Branan found Duguald and de Courcy’s steward, Edmund, along with the surviving servants, standing over a fresh grave. Branan dismounted and approached, crossing himself and whispering a quick prayer as he spotted the temporary headstone with de Courcy’s name.

Edmund looked up at him, grief-stricken. “I commissioned the making of my lord’s bier in the chapel. Until then, he rests in a plain coffin in the earth.” Edmund paused, his gaze searching Branan’s, questions he wanted to ask flitted across his expression, but he did not voice them.

Branan nodded and gently gripped Edmund’s shoulder. “How are ye?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to stare at the ground. “I pray the lady forgives me for this, but I had no idea when or if she would be able to return.” Again he looked up at Branan, his expression pleading. “How is my lady?” Branan had no idea if he suspected. Did he fear Branan would deny Catriona’s status as lady of Brackenburgh?

“She is well,” Branan said carefully. “Safe at Thistlewood, for now. Edmund, if I may, I need to speak privately with ye.”

Edmund nodded and guided them into the keep. The servants who were able carried bodies out and tried to scrub the blood from the floor. Edmund led him to de Courcy’s study and closed the door. Without a word, he poured wine from a carafe and handed a cup to Branan, keeping one for himself.

“I pray you forgive me,” he said. “But I need a drink.”

“Aye,” Branan replied, taking a drink of the fine wine. He moved to a chair near the hearth, avoiding de Courcy’s desk entirely. Branan needed to find out where Edmund stood. He took a second drink and examined Edmund closely. The man appeared not only exhausted, but heartsick and hopeless. No one had been more devoted to de Courcy than Edmund.

Praying he wasn’t misreading the signs, Branan drew a deep breath. “Edmund, I need ye to speak honestly with me, without fear of retribution.”

“MacTavish, I served my lord faithfully for years, just as my father served his father. He was at odds with you only because he feared you’d steal his lady’s heart.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Her fiery spark discomfited him...he was beside himself at times...I’ve never seen him in such a state. She was exactly what he and this household needed, MacTavish: a breath of fresh air. All of us looked forward to this wedding, to see our lord happy...and he would have been as soon as he realized he would not be able to cage her free spirit. She would have opened new doors for him.”

“And now?”

Edmund’s returned his gaze to him, staring at him a long moment. “Brackenburgh awaits the return of our lady. We stand ready to follow her. We know she will never bow to Strickland. He is our enemy, MacTavish, and you belong in the Wardenship.”

Branan nodded, satisfied with the man’s words. “Edmund, has de Courcy’s solar been cleaned yet?”

“Nay.”

“What I have to tell ye doesna leave this room. I’d have yer vow on it.”

“I vow on the Rood to say nothing.”

“Ye may ken Strickland arrived before the marriage could be consummated.”

Edmund’s face lost all color. “Nay, that cannot be. If the lady be not my lord’s wife in truth, my lord had no other surviving family. Brackenburgh will fall under Strickland’s control.”

Branan swallowed hard; he knew too well how Strickland brought castles under his control. He lifted the bag he carried. “The contents need to be placed properly in de Courcy’s bed so none need ken the marriage was incomplete.”

Edmund gazed at the bag, his confusion obvious. He looked at Branan and sudden understanding dawned. “Then the lady’s marriage is valid and she controls my lord’s holdings.” He took the bag, tucking it safely under his arm. “I shall make sure this is in its proper place, MacTavish.”

Branan rose. “Good, Edmund. I wish the lady to stay at Thistlewood for a time, to ensure her safety. But ye and I will communicate by messenger. Ye will run the keep. Once we have Strickland on his heels and yer garrison here is stable, she will return.”

“Of course, my lord. My lady’s welfare comes first, and you, MacTavish, have my fealty in that regard.”

“Some mercenaries will remain until we recover from this.”

Edmund bowed, his eyes bright with new hope. “As you will, my lord. Now, I pray your pardon, but I must go afore someone decides to clean the solar.” He hurried off.

Branan dragged his hand through his hair then drained his wine cup, praying his ruse would work.

HHH

Catriona returned to Branan’s solar, surprised to find him gone and a maid redressing the bed.

“M’lady, may I get you anything?”

“Clothing,” Catriona replied. “I have no idea if any of my dresses are here or at Brackenburgh.”

“They are here, m’lady. I heard tell that Lord de Courcy sent your trunks back, saying he’d purchased new clothing for you.”

She arched an eyebrow, but that shouldn’t have surprised her at all. “Thank you.” Catriona paused and gestured to her dress on the floor. “I fear that one is ruined, see that it is burned.”

“Aye, m’lady,” the maid said and quickly scooped it up. She left the room, promising to return quickly.

Catriona shivered, trying to force down the horror of yesterday. She had thrown herself into passion with Branan, not only because she had desperately wanted it for so very long, but because the pleasure he granted her obliterated her guilt over Richard’s death.

Just the memory of what Branan had done to her...Catriona closed her eyes, feeling her heart race and a damp heat bloom between her thighs. Damnation, where was he?

The maid returned. Catriona dressed and descended the stairs to break her fast. She sat at the table, certain this meal was the finest she’d had in years.

“Good glory, sister,” Gavin said, grinning broadly. “You eat as a girl starved.”

She smiled up at him, relieved to see him hale and whole.

He approached and kissed her cheek. “How are you?” he whispered.

A memory of the death blow severing the vein of life in Richard’s neck shot across her vision. Catriona squeezed her eyes closed for an instant and forced it away, replacing it with the memory of Branan’s loving touch last night.

“Catriona?”

She looked at Gavin as he sat next to her, his blue eyes worried.

“I...I am fine...or I will be.” Catriona paused, biting her lip. What should she say to her brother about Branan? All knew she had spent the night in his solar. Hell, anyone with ears...

“Catriona, listen to me,” Gavin said, holding her hand tightly. “I am so very relieved. You are back where you belong...” He hesitated, gazing at her intently. “You belong with Branan. I know you do not need my blessing, but I give it anyway, wholeheartedly.”

A huge weight slid from her shoulders and she smiled. “Thank you, Gavin.”

His lips lifted, but then his smile faded. “I know you well, little sister, I know the circumstances weigh heavily on you, but please do not take this upon yourself. I thank the Almighty for correcting what would have been a terrible mistake.”

“I just feel so dreadful that Richard died defending me.”

“I know, sister, but God called him home.” Gavin paused, giving her a gentle smile. “Perhaps He needed de Courcy there. It would not do if someone sold the Pearly Gates out from under him.”

Catriona managed a sad smile and rested her head on Gavin’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. A maid brought him his breakfast and he released her to eat.

“After you finish,” he said, “we do need your help. Some of our men were wounded in the skirmish.”

“Of course, Gavin.”

A bit later, Gavin ushered Catriona into the barracks. Her gaze locked on a Scotsman, Simon, and she knew he was by far the worst off...and in trouble. A terrible sword wound in his side refused to stop bleeding and his face was colorless.

“Oh dear, Gavin,” she whispered, moving quickly to the man’s side. “I’m going to need help.”

She had no idea how long she worked. Catriona had to cauterize Simon’s wound, and she feared they would lose him to blood loss. But he clung to life with stubborn tenacity. She was so grateful for Gavin’s help.

Catriona bandaged, sewed, and cleaned wounds until she had no idea what time it was, only that she was absolutely exhausted. Finally, she sat in a rickety chair with a sigh, closing her eyes.

“Lass,” a soft voice rumbled. Catriona felt a gentle hand caress her cheek and she smiled. Opening her eyes, she focused on Branan as he crouched before her.

“I see ye have been working too hard again.”

“What time is it?”

“Late evening.”

She blinked at him. “I had no idea it was so late.”

“Come,” Branan said, pulling her to her feet. “Ye need to rest. Ye canna help them if ye drop, lass,” he added, forestalling her argument before she even uttered it.

He led her to the solar and closed the door, latching it.

“Forgive me,” he growled. Catriona’s breath caught in her throat as Branan’s gaze locked on hers. His sea-green eyes blazed with feral desire.

Suddenly, she found herself pressed against the wall. Branan’s mouth possessed hers, his kiss anything but gentle. His hands roamed over her, igniting a firestorm of unexpected passion within her. Catriona surrendered to it immediately and returned his powerful kiss. How had she ever denied him? How had she been able to control the desire raging through her whenever he touched her?

Branan’s mouth moved to her neck, where he mixed his kisses with soft nips. Catriona let her head fall back as she wrapped her arms about his neck. She shivered, moaning softly in delight. She felt his hands move again, but was uncertain as to what he was doing. Branan lifted her up and pressed her back against the wall.

“Wrap yer legs around me,” he said, his voice hoarse. He tugged her skirts up, his hand caressing her thigh.

She did as he asked then gasped as she felt his cock rub against her through the opening of his trews.

“I canna bear this,” he whispered, and with a hard thrust of his hips, he drove himself inside her.

Catriona cried out as colors exploded in her vision. Branan’s arms tightened around her, his strength holding her securely. His breath rattled in his throat and sweat dampened his body. Catriona found herself instinctively moving against him, her arms clinging to his neck. He groaned softly, his movement increasing.

“Dear God,” he gasped. “I must...”

A wave of pleasure seized her and she intensified her movements.

“Slow down, lass. I canna...” Branan groaned again, his entire body shuddering. He pushed harder, striving for greater depths, his tempo growing with urgency. “Forgive me,” he whispered again. Catriona opened her eyes and watched him. The exquisite rapture of his expression as he thrust himself desperately inside her and found his pleasure, only made him even more beautiful to Catriona. His body convulsed and he cried out her name, his arms so tight around her she could barely breathe.

Branan froze, leaning heavily against the wall, panting. His eyes remained closed and he buried his face in her hair.