My Highland Lover (19 page)

Gray’s words made time stand still. Quite a feat for a man to accomplish with a time runner. Trulie slid her hand up the roughness of his cheek and drew in a shaking breath.
Oh dear Lord.
How could she resist such a man who made her feel so…

Gray edged closer. With the barest of touches his warm lips brushed across hers. “Say it,
mo chridhe
,” he breathed against her mouth. “Say it will be so.”

“It will be so,” Trulie finally whispered as she surrendered to her heart and succumbed to Gray’s spell.

Gray brushed her lips with a chaste kiss, then scooped her up from the settee. He crossed the room in three broad strides and lowered her to the bed. He stretched out beside her, fully clothed, candlelight and so much more reflected in his eyes. Propping his head in one hand, Gray stared down at her as he lightly traced a fingertip along the curve of her lower lip. “What have ye done t’me?” he finally whispered.

Before Trulie could say a word, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. The kiss heated to a hungry claiming as Gray’s emotions rushed into her. Trulie laced her fingers in his hair and pulled him down. She opened up and welcomed him in, relishing the faint taste of whisky flavoring his kisses.

Without breaking the connection, Gray smoothed Trulie’s skirts aside. The heat of his touch trailing up her leg and tickling across her inner thigh made her ache for more. Trulie arched her back and curled a leg around him as he brushed teasing fingers across her wetness.

Trulie slid a hand down beneath his plaid and curled her fingers around him. She guided him around the bulky folds of their clothes and rubbed his cock against her.

“Nay, lass.” Gray gently pushed her back and rose above her. “Tis goin’ t’be a long night. Ye best lie back and relax.”

“Relax?” Trulie swallowed hard as Gray crouched between her legs and shoved her skirts up around her waist.

“Aye, lass,” Gray whispered as he blew across the nest of tangled curls at the vee of her thighs.

“You’re not fighting fair,” Trulie said in a breathless whisper.

“I’ll ne’er fight fair when it comes to claimin’ ye for me own.”

Trulie wet her lips and clutched the bed sheets in her fists, holding her breath as Gray slowly teased the tip of his tongue across her aching nub. A moan escaped her as Gray rumbled a groan against her mound and sucked her in with deliciously slow pulls.

She bucked as he cupped her buttocks in both hands and shifted her hips higher. He dipped his tongue into her heat, all the while gyrating his thumb against her swollen button. Trulie bit her pillow against crying out as Gray slid two fingers deep inside her and returned to sucking, pulling, and thrusting until Trulie groaned and rocked hard against mouth and hand. Delicious waves shook through her like an incoming erotic tide. Body and soul hummed with the most ancient of pleasures.
Damnation. How could I ever leave?

Gray chuckled as he returned to Trulie’s side and stretched out beside her. He nuzzled and nibbled against her throat as Trulie gasped for air.

“Proud of yourself?” Trulie asked once she was finally able to speak.

“Should I no’ be?” Gray smiled down at her as he trailed his fingertips between her breasts.

“Just remember. All’s fair,” Trulie warned as she slid downward and shoved his plaid to the side.

Gray hissed in a sharp breath as Trulie palmed his bollocks in one hand and raked her tongue up and down the length of his swollen shaft. He groaned when she swirled and sucked the head, then swallowed him as deep as she could take.

“Lore a’mighty, woman.” Gray made a sound akin to a growl, arching his back as Trulie alternately sucked and stroked.

Trulie rode up and down the ridge of Gray’s leg as she kissed and sucked until he groaned for mercy. Aching and wet, impatience and carnal greed took her over. Trulie straddled Gray, and slowly slid down his hardness until she was well seated with a satisfied wiggle. “You know I’m not a patient woman. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

With a rakish grin, Gray pulled her forward, yanked free her unlaced kirtle, and stripped it away. He caught a nipple in his mouth, nibbling and pulling until Trulie pushed him and rocked hard back and forth atop him. Sliding her fingers up along his ribcage, she bunched his leine in a tangled wad in both hands. She yanked at the material, shoving it away. “I need to feel you—all of you. I want the heat of your skin against mine. Every delicious inch of it.”

The sound of cloth ripping echoed through the candlelit chamber as Gray fulfilled her request and divested her of the cumbersome yardage of her skirts as well. Sliding against the heat of his flesh, Trulie settled into the ancient rhythm—a satisfied groan vibrating between them—whether it came from her or him, she couldn’t tell, nor did she care.

Gray’s entire body stiffened and then bucked as he yanked Trulie hard against him. As he emptied, Trulie rode faster and pumped ever harder. As Gray shook one last time, Trulie went over the edge. A raw shriek tore from her throat as she reached blissful release. Trulie convulsed through waves of exploding pleasure, then collapsed into a gasping heap atop Gray’s heaving chest. Gray wrapped his arms tight around her and held her trembling body close.

“Trulie.”

Trulie lifted her head and raked her damp curls out of her eyes. “What?”

“Yer mine.” Gray’s expression had grown serious, his eyes narrow and stern. “For all eternity. Ye belong t’none other but me.”

Trulie’s already hammering heart skipped a beat and a delicious shiver having absolutely nothing to do with what had just transpired rippled across her flesh.

“Say it, woman.” Gray placed his hands on either side of her face. “Say it t’me now.”

Trulie lightly kissed the tip of his chin, then met his gaze with a smile. “I’m yours for all eternity. I promise.”

Gray gathered her back into his embrace and pecked a kiss atop her head as he traced a suggestive finger down the center of her back, then settled the cheek of her ass in one hand. “Rest a bit now, woman. As I said, we’ve a long night ahead.”

“Rory swears he saw no one.” Colum stood beside Gray on the outer gallery overlooking the remains of the stable. Charred posts poked up through piles of ash toward the dismal, overcast sky. Scorched blocks of foundation stones marked the boundaries of what once was one of the finest stables in all the Highlands. Colum huffed out a disgusted snort as he added, “Perhaps one o’ the stable lads left a brazier unattended.”

Gray leaned forward, elbows propped atop the damp stone railing. “Perhaps,” he replied. But he truly doubted such an easy explanation was the truth—especially after what Trulie had told him she had sensed right before the fire.

Gray straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. His gaze followed two soot-covered lads raking debris into a pile. “So ye truly believe it was an accident?”

Colum’s face darkened as he shifted into a wider stance. “Nay.”

“Agreed,” Gray huffed as he shrugged the misting rain from his body. “Two such fires in the same year is no accident.”

“Lady Trulie couldna see the bastard who set either of the fires?”

Gray ignored Colum’s question as his attention was caught by a new figure joining the handful of youngsters sorting through the blackened mess. Who the hell was that?

At the far side of the rubble, pawing through ash and chunks of charred debris, was a worker Gray didna know. He was a man of average height and build, capped with nondescript mud-brown hair hanging in chopped-off, dripping hanks. The steady rain plastered the man’s gray tunic to his bent body. His hands and knees were muddied black from sorting through the remains. The only distinguishing feature Gray could discern about the stranger was that he hitched over far to his left whenever he took a step. Gray looked closer.
Aye.
That was why the man walked with such a strange gait. His left foot looked like a large misshapen stone wrapped in wet leather.

Gray nodded toward the man. “Who is he?”

Colum dismissed the man with a shrug. “Ye ken the man. He was one of Aileas’s retinue when she first arrived at MacKenna keep. I believe he was part of her dowry.”

“I dinna recall ever seeing the man before.” Gray paced the length of the balcony. He watched as the man fished out bits and pieces of twisted metal and tossed the shards into a wooden bucket.

“He works with the smithy,” Colum replied. “See how he searches for scraps of iron?”

“Has he been questioned about the fire?” Gray pulled a fold of his plaid up over his head as the downpour grew heavier and sleet joined the rain. The wet spring weather would delay cleanup and rebuilding. Gray squinted up into the sky. Foals would be coming soon. A temporary shelter for the horses would have to be made.

Gray returned his attention to the unknown man limping through the debris. “Colum. Has the man been questioned?”

When Colum still didn’t respond, Gray turned, then rolled his eyes. No wonder Colum failed to answer. The man’s cock had taken control.

Colum stood at the far side of the balcony, motionless, eyes trained on a young woman as she scampered out into the gardens with a bit of cloth held over her head.

Gray chuckled, then walked over and nudged Colum out of his paralysis. “Ye best no’ allow Granny to see ye gawking at that bit of skirt. She’ll think ye lied about havin’ no interest in weddin’.” Gray leaned closer. “By the way, have ye stolen a kiss from her yet?”

Colum shifted his stance and adjusted his plaid as though he suddenly needed a bit more room from the waist down. “Aye, and the promise of more.” He leaned out over the wall and watched the girl fill a basket with snips of herbs. “Her lips are sweet as honey wine and ye can lay odds she’ll warm m’bed this verra night.”

Gray shook his head and walked alongside the railing. Colum’s bed was ne’er empty long, but what the poor maidens didna realize was Colum enjoyed the chase almost more than the catch. Once they succumbed and warmed his chambers, Colum’s interest quickly waned. “Ye say that about all the maids. Have ye yet t’find the one capable of warmin’ yer heart?”

Colum made a face and adjusted his sword belt about his waist. “The only part o’ m’body I care t’warm is located a bit lower than m’heart.”

Gray understood completely. He had once felt the same—before he met Trulie. Colum would someday meet his match, especially if Granny Sinclair made up her mind the man should wed. “Aye. Well. Ye best take care and give Granny Sinclair a wide berth.”

“By the way…” Colum’s interest in the topic vanished as the curvaceous girl disappeared back into the keep. “What date have ye set for yer wedding?”

Irritation grated against Gray’s nerves, making the day even more unpleasant. “No date has been determined.”

Colum cocked an eyebrow but said nary a word.

“The woman will no’ agree to a date until she has resolved what she calls our ‘issues.’ ” Gray hissed out the word as though it were a curse. And it damn near was. What good was Trulie’s promise to marry if she would no’ agree to a day?

“Set the date,” Colum said. “Yer the chieftain. Name the place and time.”

“She said she wouldna attend,” Gray bit out. “I already thought to try that.”

“And I dinna suppose trussing her up and carrying her to the church would work?” Colum leaned forward as though ready to make it happen if Gray just gave the word.

“I would prefer she come t’me of her own free will.” Gray blew out a frustrated breath. He had to admit he rather liked the idea of a bound and gagged Trulie delivered to the church on a day of his choice, but lore a’mighty, there would be hell to pay once she was freed of her bonds.

Colum shrugged and nodded his agreement. “Well, what issue is she wanting resolved?”

Gray held up one hand and counted off the items as he named them. “Two murders, two fires, and two attempted murders.”

“Two attempted murders?” Colum asked. “Who?”

Gray grinned. “You and I, m’friend.” He clapped a hand to Colum’s shoulder. “According to Mistress Trulie, it appears we are about to be poisoned.”

Colum stared at Gray as though he had lost his mind. “For truth?”

“Aye.” Gray nodded.

“Speaking of poison”—Colum’s troubled expression shifted to one of anticipation—“is this no’ the day of Lady Aileas’s exodus?”

Gray chuckled. Just the thought of the keep without Aileas’s annoying presence made the day suddenly brighter. “Aye. Today is the day. Her servants should be loading her trunks as we speak.”

“Ye know Fearghal has gone missing?” Colum bobbed his head up and down to confirm his statement. “No one has seen neither hide nor hair of the dolt since the guard dragged him from the hall.”

Gray tossed his plaid back over one shoulder. “What say ye?”

“No one has seen Fearghal,” Colum repeated, slowly enunciating his words as though Gray were a child. “Pray tell me ye didna allow someone other than m’self the pleasure of slitting the bastard’s throat?”

Gray frowned and shook his head. “I gave no such order.” He turned away and thoughtfully meandered back and forth along the length of the gallery. This news didna set well at all. Fearghal missing was a great deal like discovering a diseased rat was hiding in the walls of the keep. Fearghal never ventured far from his mother. Even as a grown man, he depended on his brute of a mother to protect him. Gray had no doubt the sniveling drunkard was capable of evil as long as the man could orchestrate it while cowering in the shadows of his mother’s skirts. “I want Fearghal found.”

“You’re sure this stuff really works?” Trulie peered down into the linen pouch at the tiny heart-shaped seeds. “I just grind some up, mix with water, and drink it?”

“Yes.” Granny nodded as she shook a knobby finger toward the small cache of seeds. “Just a dab in water is all you need, but be certain the seeds are well crushed or they won’t work.” Granny turned back to the worktable and stacked together several small wooden bowls. “Oh, and Trulie…” Granny turned back. “When you start running low, you’ll have to jump back to the beginning of the first century to gather more from the Mediterranean stash. The map is drawn out in my journal. You won’t have a bit of trouble finding it.”

“The first century? Are you kidding me?” Trulie drew the string around the neck of the seed bag and secured it with a knot. “It would be just as easy for me to hop back to Kentucky and get birth control there. The last time I spoke with Kenna through the fire portal, she said she’d make any appointments I needed. Why can’t I get these seeds any closer than the first century? And in the Mediterranean?”

Granny wiped both hands on the front of her apron and shook her head. “Silphium is much more effective than wild carrot seeds or Queen Anne’s Lace. But the plant became extinct by the end of the first century—greed and climate change.” A hopeful grin brightened her face as she patted Trulie on the arm. “But with any luck, you and Gray won’t decide to wait too long to start having babies. I’m sure you won’t need to make a trip back to Kentucky or the first century.”

“Uhm…” Coira cleared her throat. “What else do ye recommend t’make sure a bairn doesna take seed?” Coira’s freckled cheeks flamed with scarlet patches of red. “Mam died when I was too young t’learn of such things, and none of the servin’ maids can decide what works best.”

“Don’t have sex,” Granny retorted with a stern look over the top of her glasses. “That’s the surest way not to get babies.” Granny turned from the table, squared off, and drew herself up as though she were about to make a speech.

Trulie tucked the pouch of seeds into a drawer and closed it with a loud bang. “It’s okay, Granny. I’ll talk to Coira about it later. I can’t sit through that lecture again.”

The chamber door rattled on its hinges as someone pounded on the other side.

“My goodness. Keep your britches on.” Granny patted both hands across her sleek gray hair and grumbled under her breath. She toddled across the room at a fast clip and yanked open the door.

Tamhas stood with both hands propped atop his staff, his face beaming with the smile hidden in his beard. “I thought ye all would wish to come and give Aileas a proper farewell. After all, ye may never see the poor woman again.”

Trulie rubbed her hands together and winked at Coria. Tamhas was right. Trulie wouldn’t miss Aileas’s going-away party for anything in the world. “So she’s all packed up and ready to go?”

Tamhas nodded as he held out his arm for Granny to take. “Aye. Her servants have placed the last of her trunks in the carriage. All that remains is the Lady Aileas herself.”

Kismet and Karma bounded out the door ahead of everyone. Trulie couldn’t help but laugh. Even the animals wanted to see Aileas gone. Trulie hurried to catch up with the group. Tamhas’s stride was long and sure for a man his age. His staff gracefully thumped along beside him. Granny nearly skipped by his side. Trulie looped her arm through Coira’s and giggled at a sudden vision of them all skipping down a yellow brick road. It was amazing how much Aileas’s departure made the keep seem like a brighter place.

“But you know, I heard they can’t find Fearghal.” Granny’s chuckling revelation floated back to Trulie.

“What do you mean they can’t find him?” Trulie hurried to catch up with Granny and Tamhas.

Granny shrugged. “Ask Coira. All the serving girls are chattering about it. They said no one’s seen him since he got booted out of the hall for being such an ass.”

“Do ye think the chieftain had Fearghal gutted and hung out t’dry?” Coira’s eyes danced at the possibility as she nudged Trulie’s side.

“Coira!” Granny skidded to a stop and whirled around to face them. “Do you have to be so graphic? Crime-a-nitly, child! Where did you learn such a term? You sound like a twenty-first century redneck bragging about the deer he just shot.”

“Mistress Trulie said…” Coira clamped her mouth shut and cast an apologetic look in Trulie’s direction.

“Gray didn’t say anything about having Fearghal punished.” Trulie made a mental note to speak to Coira later about what should or should not be shared with Granny. “All I know was Aileas is getting sent to some distant cousin in the lowlands. The place sounded like a convent or something.”

Coira’s grin widened. “Aileas would make a much better monk than a nun.”

Even Granny snickered this time, before clearing her throat, grabbing Tamhas’s arm, and proceeding down the hall.

Her interest piqued, Trulie attempted to bring the focus of the conversation back to Fearghal. “So, what do you think happened to him? I mean, really. Is there any gossip about where he might be?”

Coira frowned as she hooked her thumbs into the front placket of her apron. “Nay. ’Tis verra strange. Master Fearghal ne’er strays far from his mother.”

Trulie stretched to better see as they came to the end of the corridor and passed through the arch leading out into the bailey. Shimmying sideways, she kept close to the wall, because quite a crowd had gathered to see Aileas leave.

An enclosed carriage waited with its lacquered door propped open. A scrawny lad balanced on top of the pile of baggage secured with a rope. The worn leather trunks and lopsided bundles bulged at an ungainly angle against the back of the carriage.

Trulie eyed one of the longer, linen-wrapped bundles lashed across the very back of the wagon. Maybe Fearghal was in there, rolled up like the cowardly slug he was. Trulie looked closer and reached out with her senses. No. It wasn’t him. Whatever it was in that roll didn’t emit an aura.

The murmuring of the crowd grew louder as Aileas emerged from the keep and paused on the wide stone step. Trulie felt a confusing twinge of sympathy for the woman. It was more than obvious Aileas had been weeping. Her red-rimmed eyes were even more bloodshot than usual, and her pockmarked nose was dripping.

Aileas pulled a crumpled wad of cloth from one sleeve, pinched it up against her nose, and blew so hard the sound echoed through the courtyard. As she shoved the handkerchief back into her sleeve, she looked around the crowd, stopping when her gaze fell on Trulie.

Trulie stared back, unblinking. No way was she going to be the first to look away.

Aileas lifted her double chin as her mouth pulled down into a deeper frown. Without taking her gaze from Trulie, Aileas stomped her way down the steps. Her dark skirts bounced with a haughty jerk as she flounced to the open door of the carriage. Before she hefted her girth up into the carriage, Aileas paused and pointed a shaking finger at Trulie. After she’d pulled herself up into the seat, she made a slashing sign across her throat before the servant slammed the door shut.