Devil in a Kilt (43 page)

"Would
you that I sit by the fire while you sleep?" Flickering light from a
nearby wall torch clearly showed the concern on his ravaged face.

"‘Tis
kind of you, but I will be fine," Linnet declined, at last accepting how
tired she was. She wanted naught but to slip into bed, cradle Robbie in her
arms, and sink into the mind-numbing bliss of sleep.

"You
are certain?"

"Aye."

"As
you wish, lady." Sir Marmaduke nodded respectfully and left her alone.

She
watched him go, bid young Thomas a good night, then let herself into her room,
bolting the door behind her.

Nigh
asleep on her feet, she arched her lower back and stretched her aching arms
above her head.

Then
she crossed the room and pulled back the bedcurtains.

Robbie
was gone.

A
smiling man lounged upon the bed in his stead.

Before
she could scream, a steely arm slid around her waist from behind, and a
foul-smelling hand clamped tightly against her mouth, thoroughly stifling any
sound she might have made.

"Fair
lady," Kenneth drawled from the bed. "I thought you would never
come."

"‘Twould
not be wise to bite Gilbert's hand," Kenneth warned, falsely guessing
Linnet's intent. "His manners are crude, and he would not handle you as
gently as I'd prefer should you sink your teeth into him."

Linnet
shuddered, fair gagging, her skin nigh onto crawling off her bones in sheer
revulsion. The hand clamped so suffocatingly tight across her mouth reeked far
too much like rotting fish for her to dare attempt such a deed.

The
stench was bad enough. She wouldn't torture herself further by
tasting
the
lout's stinking flesh!

She
did
narrow her eyes to glare at the smug bastard still reposed atop her bed,
though. He'd crossed his feet at the ankles, folded his arms behind his head,
and it was obvious someone had tended and dressed his injured thigh.

"It
will do you naught good to shoot daggers at me with your eyes, lovely though
they may be," he said, his voice low and silky, rife with amusement.

His
dark blue eyes, so like Duncan's, gleamed whilst he slid his gaze lecherously
over her breasts, then to her feet and back again. "On my honor, lady, I
vow you are possessed of many, ah,
lovely
attributes. I shall enjoy savoring
them all."

Wresting
herself free of Gilbert's meaty hand, Linnet fumed, "You will burn in
hell afore you lay a hand on me! And dinna speak of honor, for you do not know
what it is. ‘Tis what you've done with Robbie I wou—" the fishy hand
clapped over her mouth again, cutting off her protestations.

"The
lad is unharmed. Think you I bear ill will toward my own son?" Kenneth
affected a look of mock astonishment as she straggled wildly against the bear
of man who held her captive.

"You
will soon be reunited with the child, my sweeting," he crooned, Duncan's
pet name for her a travesty on the bastard's lips. "If you would becalm
yourself, we can be gone from here. Indeed, your resistance surprises me. I
thought you desired my attentions?"

His
lips curving into an arrogant smirk, Kenneth brought one hand from behind his
head. A lock of glossy black hair dangled from his fingers. "Why else
would you have let this token of my admiration fall upon the woodland path?
Lest you hoped I would happen upon it and be honorbound to return it to
you?"

Outrage
made Linnet's heart race and her cheeks flame. Even the tops of her ears burned
with seething anger.

She
shook, too.

Badly.

Only
her fury and concern for Robbie kept her standing upright.

And
angry she was.

Mightily
so.

Enough
to disregard her repugnance and bite deeply into Gilbert's grime-covered hand.

"Oooooow!"
he howled, letting go of her to bring his foul-smelling appendage to his own
mouth.

Whipping
up her gown, Linnet grabbed for her dagger but steely fingers curled around
her arm, staying her hand. Despite his wounded leg, Kenneth had sprang from the
bed with a speed and agility she'd hitherto seen only in her husband and the
Sassunach.

Breathing
hard, her heart pounding, she had no course but to watch helplessly as her
malefactor plucked the dirk from her boot.

"My
most humble thanks, lady. I was about to insist you surrender your
weapon." Still smirking, he tucked her blade beneath his belt, then drew
her flush against the broad expanse of his chest. "Now cease
squirming," he instructed, covering her mouth with his own hand, "and
dinna scream or I shall silence you with my lips and hold you still by mounting
you."

Linnet
promptly swallowed the cry she'd been about to let loose.

She
froze, too, standing perfectly still, as if carved from stone, in the miscreant
bastard's unyielding arms.

"That
is better. Much better." He smoothed a hand down her back as he spoke.
"Do not make a sound as we leave here," he advised her, hooking the
fingers of his other hand under her chin and forcing her face to within inches
of his own. His hot breath grazed her skin and turned her stomach.

"Should
you choose not to heed my warning, I shall cast you to the ground where we
stand and have you just to spite my brother." His mouth came so close to
hers she feared he'd plunder her lips any moment. "Have I made myself
understood?"

Linnet
nodded, fighting off the waves of revulsion washing over her at his nearness,
at the feel of his vile hands touching her body. She could not be sick... she
had to keep her strength and wits about her until she was rejoined with Robbie
and could plot their escape.

"Good,"
Kenneth replied to her nod. Then he loosened his hold on her and stepped back.
Folding his well-muscled arms across his chest, he arched one brow and ran his
gaze over her breasts again. "Dinna think I would not do as I've said.
‘Twould be an act I'd relish under any circumstances, and partaking of your
sweetness afore my brother's affronted eyes would only heighten the
pleasure."

Still
eyeing her breasts, he motioned toward the tapestried wall next to the hearth.
"Free the passage, Gilbert. If we do not exit this chamber now, I will
need to explore the lady's treasures here, and I wouldna deprive myself of the
sheer bliss of anticipation."

To
Linnet's amazement, the brigand named Gilbert strode to the wall, pushed aside
the hanging tapestry, and exposed a half-opened door in the stone wall.

At
her sharp intake of breath, Kenneth chuckled. "So you dinna know of the
secret passage?" he breathed just above her ear, nudging the door with his
foot until it swung fully open to expose a dank-smelling set of stone stairs
spiraling downward into blackness.

He
leaned closer still, pressing heavily against her as he forced her into the
darkness and they began a slow, circular descent. "You mustn't feel alone
for not being aware of the passage. I am not supposed to know of it either,"
he boasted, his voice full of barely suppressed mirth. "But, alas, my
brother was e'er the fool... the dullard never guessed I'd oft seen him
slipping in and out of it in our youth."

Her
eyes not yet accustomed to the dark, Linnet slipped on one of the slick, moss-covered
steps. "Ho, lady," Kenneth chided, his arm snaking about her waist,
his iron grip preventing her from tumbling down the stairs.

"Slow
and cautious if you will, fair one. The bolt you fired into my leg has left me
a wee bit unsteady on my feet. I may not be able to catch you should you slip
again."

Lifting
his hand, he let his fingers glide through the loose strands of her hair.
Linnet shuddered and tried to pull away, but he only tightened his hold on her.
Even without seeing his face, she could sense his gloating.

As
if her ill ease pleased him.

"Aye,
so is better, lass. Nice and
slow,"
he breathed and Linnet knew he
did not mean her hesitant steps on the curving stone stairs. "I would not
wish to see you battered and bruised. Such an unfortunate state would spoil my
pleasure later on."

The
tone of his softly whispered words, smooth and cajoling, made Linnet cringe.
He'd spoken as if they sat across from each other in a finely appointed solar
sharing a trencher of victuals and a jug of good wine.

Like
lovers.

Bile
rose in her throat at the very thought.

He
chuckled again, undoubtedly aware of her discomfiture, relishing it. His low
laughter echoed grotesquely off the cold, dank walls of the dampish passage.
"Nay, I dinna care to see you marred," he said again. "I mean to
enjoy your favors."

Of a
sudden, he took a handful of her hair, twisting the strands cruelly, pulling
until she gasped from the pain. "Afterward ..." He let his voice
trail off and released her hair.

Linnet
said naught even though his unspoken threat struck terror through her. She bit
down hard on her lower lip to keep from flinging angry words at him.

And
to keep from crying.

Tears
and bursts of temper would scarce help her now.

She
needed to
think,
not provoke him. Her mind raced, frantically seeking a
means to get herself and Robbie away from him and back to safety.

At
her silence he plunged on, taunting her with apparent glee. "Is it not
amusing I am snatching you from beneath my brother's self-righteous nose ...
and by way of a passage he thought none but his arrogant self knew
existed?"

Duncan.
Her heart screamed out his name as they descended ever deeper into the
cold, dark bowels of Eilean Creag. They passed several low-ceilinged passages
leading off from the curving stairwell, and Kenneth must've sensed her desire
to flee, for he paused briefly beside the entrance to one of them.

"This
tunnel leads to your husband's solar and beyond, ending in the chapel,"
he told her, nodding toward the impenetrable blackness looming beyond the
passage's arched entrance. "‘Tis nary a stone of this castle I dinna ken,
no matter how well my brother thought to keep its secrets to himself," he
jeered. "A man can move unseen throughout the entire holding, and
disappear afore one is missed. Long afore one is missed," he added in a
sinister tone surely meant to unsettle her.

But
Linnet kept her tongue, glancing about her as they passed several other tunnels
on their winding way downward. Each one smelled ranker than the last. ‘Twas a
cold, damp smell. An unpleasant one reeking with the stench of rotting sea kelp
and dead fish, all blended with the sharp tang of brine and the musty odor of
stale air.

Gooseflesh
rose on Linnet's arms. Had Duncan used these secret passages to appear so
unexpectedly in her chamber at times? Aye, she supposed he had, making use of
them to gain entry when she would ne'er have unbolted the door to him.

Searing,
stabbing heat, like the pricks of a hundred tiny needles jabbed painfully into
the backs of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, chasing away the tears she
wasn't wont to shed. Instead she dwelt on her memories of Duncan coming upon
her, seemingly out of nowhere.

How
often had he surprised her awake with tender kisses and gentle hands?

More
often than she could count.

A
fierce surge of longing and regret rose within her, nigh robbing her of her
breath in its intensity. How could she not have known he'd meant to court her,
woo her?

Saints
forgive her, she hadn't. Not truly, not till now, this very moment.

In
the darkness of the stairwell, his face flashed before her: his deep blue eyes
stormy with passion, then with the skin around them crinkled in merriment, and
yet again, this time his proud brow furrowed in frustration as he sought to put
his feelings into words and couldn't.

Without
warning, a strong gust of cold, briny air swept up the stairwell from below,
its bone-deep chill sending shivers down her spine.

A
chill slid over her heart, too. And it grew colder with each downward step. Its
icy fingers seized her in a grip tighter, more inescapable, than Kenneth's firm
hold on her arm.

Holy
Mother of God, would she ever see her husband again?

E'er
be able to tell him she didn't care that he fair stumbled over his tongue
whenever he attempted to speak his heart? Would she ever have the chance to assure
him it mattered naught?

That
she finally realized he cared?

Would
she ever have the chance to reveal she found his bumbling way with words
endearing? Sweeter even than the bonniest prose an accomplished bard could
sing?

A
hot lump rose in her throat, and she pressed her lips firmly together, willing
the constriction to dissolve. When it did, she took a deep breath and squared
her shoulders.

She
had to be strong. If not for herself, for Robbie.