Capturing A Highland Knight (3 page)

Chapter 3

“There are men at the gates from Dunwiche, Derek,” Colm informed him.             

             
Derek looked up from his breakfast of cheese and bread.  He frowned. 

  
              “Do they say what brings them here?” he asked, following Colm to the courtyard.

“Nay.  They say they wish to speak to ye.”

              Derek walked toward the men waiting in the courtyard.  He could tell that what he was about to be told would not be pleasant.

“What brings ye to Dunkirk?” Derek asked walking towards the men.

The laird of Dunwiche had joined into the alliance with the other clans, but Derek did not know them personally.  He knew that Dunwiche boasted many fierce warriors, and that they could be counted on in a battle. 

             
The man that looked down at Derek from his horse had red hair and bright blue eyes.  His build was a little thicker than Derek’s, but they were similar in strength.  His eyes looked haunted and his face was somber.

             
“I am Broc Farquharson of clan McInnis,” he said in a deep strong voice.

             
“Aye, I am Derek.”

             
“I’m afraid there has been some trouble at Dunwiche.  I ken that Laird Harold has made an alliance with ye,” he replied solemnly.

             
“Aye.  What kind of trouble?”

             
“Maybe we should sit down.  The tale I have to tell ye is a bad one,” he said, dismounting.

             
“’Tis that bad, eh?” Derek asked, leading the men into the great hall.

             
“Aye, ‘tis worse.”

             
Derek felt another moment of dread.  Derek led them to the table and directed a servant to get them some ale.  Once they had all been served, he turned to Broc.

             
“What has happened?” Derek asked with a frown.

             
“Laird Harold has been killed, along with most of our clan and a visiting clan,” Broc replied.

             
They all turned when they heard a gasp behind them. 

             
“Leave!” Derek demanded when he saw Eilidh standing in the doorway.  She hurriedly turned and fled.

             
“We would also have suffered such a fate had we nae had to go handle a small dispute betwixt our neighbors.  We got back and Laird Harold and most of the McInnises and the other clan were dead.  Laird Harold’s nephew, Julian, was there and said that they were poisoned.  He had just begun to eat and drink when Laird Harold and the rest fell.  He had but a sip of his ale ere the commotion commenced, which I felt ‘twas very convenient.  He but felt mildly sickened by the poison.  He is now the new laird of Dunwiche,” Broc finished.  He took a long drink of his ale.

             
“What was the name of the other clan?” Colm asked him.

             
“Me thinks it was MacAlpin.”

             
Derek’s brow grew together.  MacAlpin?  That sounded vaguely familiar.

             
“What were they doing at Dunwiche?” Derek asked.

             
“Laird Harold was to marry the laird’s only daughter.”

             
“Laird Harold had just gotten married?  What of his bride?  Is she also perished?”

“We doona ken.  One of the servants saw her run away from the keep in the middle of the commotion.  She said that she had als
o drunk some of the ale.  Me thinks she is out there somewhere.  We canna be sure.  We searched as we rode this way, but we doona ken if she ran towards home.”

             
“Who was his bride?  Do ye think she had anything to do with it?”               

“Her name is Annabelle.  Her father is Laird Cullen of Kinloch.  I doona ken if she had anything to do with it.  She seemed nice enough, but I would not say that she was overjoyed with marrying Laird Harold.  He was twice her senior, but I doona think she would have done such a thing.”

              “Do ye remember what she looks like?” Derek asked in a low voice.

             
Colm looked at him.  He thought the same thing that Derek did.  That the woman they had found in the woods was the missing bride.

             
“Aye.  She is a bonny lass with red hair and the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen,” Broc replied.  Derek almost growled.  He did not know why any compliment from other men bothered him.  The woman was not even his.

             
Derek nodded.  He was sure that the woman was indeed this Annabelle.  Derek contemplated whether he should tell Broc that he had found her, but he was not sure that Broc was not working with whomever killed their laird.  He could not help but wonder if she had done this thing to the McInnises.  His eyes roved toward the stairs.  Even though he did not know her, his gut told him that she would not be capable of something like this, but he could not be sure.  

             
“We havenae found any trace of who did the poisoning.  Whoever it may be is still out there.  We have come to ye to ask for aide in the search,” Broc continued.   “I doona like Julian, ye ken.  He is a weak mon, Laird Harold kenned it, and he will but lead our clansmen with fear and hatred.  I am nae sure he dinna have more to do with what happened, because he would have been next in line to be laird if Laird Harold hadnae gotten married.  There will be dark times ahead for Dunwiche if we doona figure this out.”

             
“What need would he have to kill the young bride?  They had but just gotten married.  She couldnae have carried the heir, or could she?” Derek asked.  That thought angered him.

             
“Nay.  But she would own Dunwiche and whomever she next married would become laird, ye ken.”

             
Derek nodded his head.

             
“Ye doona think she would have had Julian to husband?”

             
“Nay.  I could tell that she didnae like him,” Broc said, taking another drink from his tankard.

             
That satisfied Derek.

             
“How do we prove if ‘twas this nephew?  It seems all witnesses are perished,” he asked.

             
“I doona ken. ‘Tis why I am here for yer help” Broc said, gloomily.

             
“We’ll get ye and yer men some food and bed ye down for the night.  I need to think on this,” he said, rising.  He signaled to one of the servants to make the preparations and bring the food.

             
“Thank ye, Derek.  It has been a verra trying day.”

             
Derek nodded and left them.  Colm followed him to the solar.

“What do ye think of that tale?”

Derek grunted.

“He describe the lass.  She was the bride of Laird Harold.  She must have been fleeing the keep when she lost consciousness in that clearing,” Colm said sitting down in one of the chairs placed around the solar.

“Do ye think we should tell Broc that we have the lass?  It seems to me that she would be safer here,” Colm continued.

Derek turned and looked at his friend.  He had the feeling that Colm was interested in the lass.  He tamped down the irritation he felt.

“Aye, she will be safer here.  We couldnae verra weel send her back to Dunwiche with a murderer around.  They would surely finish what they have started,” Derek said going to the window.  He watched as the men trained in the courtyard.

“Aye, but what do we do?”

“We wait for the lass to wake up, and then we can see what information she kens.  Maybe she had something to do with what happened.  Until she wakes up, we willnae ken.  But we canna send her back to Dunwiche,” Derek said.

“What about her clan?  Do ye think we should send her back to her clan?  Mayhap there are some left to care for her,” Colm watched Derek’s face.  It was inscrutable.

“I doona think we should do that either.  What if the person responsible sends to their keep to see if she has survived?  I think we should keep her here until we can come up with a plan to ferret the murderer out.  If they think she is dead, she will be safer for the time being.”

“Aye, that makes sense,” Colm agreed.

Derek nodded and turned toward Colm.

“I think I’ll go train with the men.  Will ye join me?”

“Ye ken I canna turn that down,” Colm chuckled.  They left the solar.

Chapter 4

“Me thinks I need to go to bed,” Derek said in his deep baritone, getting unsteadily to his feet.

Colm chuckled.  They had been sitting up drinking with the other men after a hard day of training.

“I’m sure Eilidh will be glad to have ye in her bed tonight.”

Derek grunted.  He stumbled toward Eilidh’s room.  He may have drunk more than he should have, but they were entertaining the men from Dunwiche.  Broc had turned out to be a good man.  He and Derek had hit it off, so Derek had stayed longer with the men than he normally would have.

Derek pushed the chamber door open.  He had to lean against the wall for a moment before he removed his claymore and dirk.  He sat in a chair and struggled to pull off his boots.  He looked toward the bed.  Eilidh did not move.  He pulled his shirt over his head
and threw it on the floor.  He caught his kilt before it hit the floor and flung it over a chair. 

He stood up and wobbled over to the bed.  Eilidh was turned away from him.  He lifted the covers and slid into bed.  He moved closer to Eilidh’s warm body.  He realized she had on a thin shift.  He grunted.  She usually did not wear anything to bed.  He would remedy that soon.  He ran his hand down her side.  She felt good, even through the thin material of the garment.  Better than he remembered.  She smelled of heather and honey.  It must be a new soap she was using.  She usually smelled earthy.

Derek buried his face in her hair.  She shifted slightly, but did not awaken.  He kissed the nape of her neck, and for some reason he felt like running his tongue along its contours.  He felt her shiver beneath his touch.  He smiled.

Shifting yet closer, he fit his erection to her bottom.  It seemed to fit there perfectly.  He had always enjoyed bedding Eilidh.  Somehow, tonight, it seemed different.  Something about her pulled at him and he wanted everything she could give.  And, strangely, he wanted to give everything in return.  That thought was like cold water splashing over him.  What was he thinking?  Eilidh was a good bed partner, but he had never felt anything but lust for her.  He must have drunken much more ale than he thought.  He started to rise from the bed, when Eilidh shifted in her sleep and her bottom pushed against his flagging manhood.  The sensation instantly brought him back to attention.

Derek moved back to her and again ran his hand down her soft curves.  She moaned a little and pushed back against him.  He kissed her shoulder and her back.  He brought his hand up and ran it gently down her back.  She shivered again at the touch.  He brought his hands to her hair.  It was so soft and thick.  He could not remember Eilidh’s hair being so soft to the touch.  Then again, he had never really allowed himself to touch it.  But somehow he could not resist.  The honey smell was strongest there, so he buried his face in the soft tresses.

He usually took Eilidh fast and hard, but, tonight, he wanted to savor the experience.  For some reason, he wanted to feel this time.  Something besides lust.  That made him pause but he could not stop the thundering in his veins.  He wanted what was happening, even if it was just this one time.

Derek pushed Eilidh to her back and covered her mouth with his.  She gave a startled gasp but then she softened and tentatively began to respond to his heated kiss.  Derek was confused at how different Eilidh tasted.  She usually tasted of ale and mint.  Tonight she tasted of strawberries and woman.  He took a deep sip of her lips, and her response in return only added to the fire that was already building inside him.  He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue in her mouth like he longed to thrust into her body.

Eilidh’s arms reached up and wrapped around Derek’s neck, and the slight touch of her playing in the hair at the nape of his neck almost sent him over the edge.  He did not remember Eilidh’s touch ever igniting that type of response from him.  It was strange, but not unwelcome.  He found he liked the new sensation.

Derek released Eilidh’s lips and kissed her jaw and then her throat.  The rapid pulse on her throat attracted his tongue, and he ran his tongue slowly against it.  Eilidh moaned.  She wiggled her body against his.  He reigned in his control so that he could savor the sweetness of Eilidh’s body.  Starting at her neck, he ran his hands slowly down to her shoulders, and then lower to cover one of her breast.  It fit perfectly in his hand, and the nipple grew taut as he ran his palm across it.  Eilidh gasped again, pushing her breast into his hands.  Her soft short breaths fueled him on.  He moved to the other breast and did the same thing.  Irritated with the barrier between them, he reached down and pulled Eilidh’s shift over her head.  Once that was done, he swooped down and took her breast in his mouth.  She cried out and clung to his head making him take her nipple deeper in his mouth.

Derek tore his mouth away from her breast and consumed her mouth again.  He, hungrily, took what she so freely gave.  Eilidh lifted her lower body to his erection, begging for him to take her.  It was getting harder for him to resist.  He let his hand wander to the soft curls that covered her secret warmth.  He slid his finger along the outer edges of her sheath.  She shuddered in his arms and cried out again.  His finger entered the folds of her warmth and ran up and down, pausing at the erect nub at the top.  She was hot and wet for him.  He plunged a finger inside and felt her tighten around
it.  He could imagine how it would feel when he plunged his manhood inside.

Gritting his teeth, Derek pushed his finger in and out until her felt Eilidh’s body shake with her release.  While she was riding the waves of ecstasy, he positioned himself at her opening and plunged inside.  She was so tight and warm he almost came before he had a chance to savor the feeling.  He began to move slowly within her.  Eilidh had stiffened, but her body began to relax and she moved with him.  As the tension built, he rode her faster until he could hold back no longer and exploded within her. It was the most powerful climax he had ever had.

He slumped against Eilidh and was immediately asleep.

§

Annabelle slowly opened her eyes.  It was dark in the room.  She could see the dying embers of the fire in the fireplace.  A small smile flitted across her face.  She had had the most amazing dream.  It had almost seemed real.  She tried to stretch and froze.  She realized that there was something pinning her down.  She fought to hold down the panic that tried to overtake her. She needed to keep her wits about her if she was to get out of this situation.  She had learned that while training with her best friend, Angus.  Although she could not do all of the training, she was able to learn to use a dirk and ride a horse like any warrior, maybe better.

She took a deep breath and tried to determine what exactly held her down.  It was heavy, and when she pushed against it, it was solid like a wall.  Annabelle realized that what she was touching was skin and muscle.  She gasped. 

She fought panic again.   Her heart was beating out of her chest.  What had she done?  It hadn’t been a dream?  No wonder it had felt so real, so wonderful. 

The man turned his face towards her.  His nose was buried in her neck and she could feel his warm even breath.  What could she do?  If she screamed, that would bring the whole keep to her chamber.  If that happened… 

She took a calming deep breath.  How did she extricate herself from under this man without waking him?   Who was he?  She did not remember having an assignation with anyone.  All of her father’s men were afraid to approach her.  Not only because her father was fierce, but because of her own temper.  She could be just as fierce as her father.  And she hadn’t felt anything besides sisterly love toward any of them.

She decided to try to slide from under the man. He seemed to be sleeping deeply.  He was laying mostly on her right side, so she moved her free left leg toward the edge of the bed.  Her foot found the edge so she hooked her ankle over as leverage.  Then she reached with her left hand and gripped the edge.  As gently as she could, and as much as her strength allowed, she tried to pull herself from under the man.  Although she pulled with all of her might, she did not feel like she had moved an inch.  The man seemed to weigh a ton, and she could not budge. 

She stopped and regrouped.  There had to be a way to move him so that she could get up.  Planting her left foot on the mattress, she decided to try to slide him off of her by lifting from the bed.  She put her hand against his shoulder.  That was a mistake, because she was instantly distracted by his smooth skin and muscles.  She shook herself to come back to reality. 

Putting her mind to it, she pushed up with her hips as she pushed his shoulder with her hand.  At first she did not think it was working, but after a moment she realized that he was more on the bed than on her.  She pushed again and was finally free.  She lay for a moment catching her breath.  She looked toward the man.  His breathing was still even and he hadn’t stirred. 

She rolled to her side and gently left the bed.  On a gasp, she realized she was naked.  She stayed crouched on the floor until she was sure that he hadn’t awakened.  When she heard no movement, she stood up.  As soon as she did, she felt very light-headed.  She quickly clutched the table that was beside the bed to steady herself.  She put her hand over her face and took slow breaths.  That helped some, but she still felt wobbly.

Once she felt a little steadier, she looked around for something to cover up with. 
In the dying light, she saw what looked like her shift lying on the floor.  She bent down and retrieved it, then slipped it over her head.  She walked over to the fireplace to stoke the embers on the fire and added a log.

             
“Eilidh, come back to bed,” she heard a deep voice say. 

             
Annabelle jumped.  She looked toward the bed.  She hadn’t heard any movement from it.  Who was Eilidh?  She slowly turned away from the fireplace and bumped into a wall of solid chest.  She put her hand out to brace herself.  Her hand connected will smooth skin and hard muscle.  She quickly drew it back and gasped.  In doing that, she stumbled back and found herself wrapped in strong arms.

Derek had awakened and reached for Eilidh and found her place empty.  He had lain still to clear some of the grogginess from his head.  His head slightly pounded.  He really had drunk more than he should have.  He heard Eilidh over by the fireplace and slipped out of the bed to fetch her.

He remembered the force of their lovemaking earlier and found that he wanted to repeat it.  She was so warm and soft in his arms.

             
“Come.  Back to bed with ye,” he said pulling her back to the bed.

             
She stiffened in his arms.

             
“Who are ye?  And why are ye in my bed?” she asked him, pulling away. 

             
Derek stiffened.  Eilidh’s voice was different.  He looked down at her, but her face was in shadow.  The glow from the fire was behind her.

“Ye ken who I am, Eilidh.  Come back to bed,” he said again in confusion.  He vowed to cut back on the ale. 

              “Who is Eilidh? Who are ye?” she asked

             
Annabelle could see the man’s face clearly by the light of the fire.  He was magnificent.  His blonde, almost white, hair and startling grey eyes all contrasted against tanned skin.  She knew he spent a great deal of time outdoors.  His eyes looked at her in confusion.  She was sure that her eyes mirrored that emotion.

             
Derek turned Eilidh so that her face was no longer in shadow.  He took a startled breath.  This was not Eilidh. He scanned the room and realized he was in his bedchamber.

“Calm yerself, lass.  I am Derek MacDougal,” he said, watching her reaction.

              Derek could see the confusion in her eyes.

             
“Derek?” was all she said.

             
“Aye.”

             
Annabelle looked at him.  He was completely naked.  Her face colored, but she found she could not look away from him. She remembered how his skin felt when she had touched his chest.  Its warmth still seared her palm.  She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. 

             
She did not think she knew who he was.  Was she supposed to know him?

             
Derek was taken aback by the brilliance of her eyes.  They were huge and the most amazing green he had ever seen.  Her hair was red, and looked like it was fire itself against the light from the fireplace.  Her perfect, full lips were parted, and he suddenly remembered the intoxication he had felt from drinking from their depths.  He wanted to taste them again.  He bent his head to do just that.  She slapped him.

             
“What are ye doing in my bedchamber?” Annabelle demanded.  The fire in her eyes matched her hair.

             
Derek growled and threw her across his shoulder and tossed her on the bed.

             
“Doona ye ever do that again!” he demanded through clenched teeth.  His face was as hard as steel.

             
“I will do as I please! Why are ye in my bedchamber?” she demanded again, coming up on her knees to face him defiantly.