Highland Dragon (28 page)

He was not there.

The wind blew snow beneath the tapestry fluttering against the window. Wandering about the room, she welcomed the hearth’s warmth to stave off a deep chill settling into her bones. She curled around the bedpost and reminisced the time they shared as husband and wife—lost in each other’s arms in the heat of passion. Her whole body flashed at the images those memories evoked.

As she approached the adjoining doors to the lady’s solar, she was caught curious by the odd-shaped stone painted with a red heart sitting atop the dresser. Picking it up, she studied its design and tried to recall why the trinket jarred her memory. An old piece of parchment poked out from beneath the lid of an unlocked strongbox. The iron coffer looked sturdy enough to protect precious jewels. Carefully, she lifted the lid and examined its contents—her wedding band, a small yellow feather, painted pebbles of various sizes, two twigs fastened by twine to make a cross. Beneath the odd collection were folded pieces of yellowed parchment. When she unfolded the first, she was taken back to her childhood. A drawing of a small girl holding the hand of a boy. The figures were drawn by the hand of a child with only dots for eyes and happy lines for smiles.

Akira retrieved another missive, written in her hand and signed with her name. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight when she wrote it. The note was silly. A memoir about how Papa whipped her for chasing the twins with a spider. Akira chuckled to herself, set it aside, and reached for another. The handwriting had changed. She was older when she wrote the missive, still no more than nine or ten.

Akira smiled as she recalled the fair at Mercat Cross. Mam and Papa took them every year, and every year they bickered over something so trivial it wasn’t worth recollecting. Despite the petty badgering among siblings, Akira had been raised by a family who loved her. And they still loved her. They had returned from Clan Donald and were at her side when her world was lost. She condemned Calin for stealing her life from her when, in fact, he was the one who gave her life.

Adrift in her musing, Akira jumped when Calin reached over her shoulder and snatched the missive from her hand.

“What are ye doing here? These are my belongings.” Calin’s bronze color flushed a brilliant red as he returned everything back to the strongbox and latched it.

“Ye saved every trinket I ever sent ye. All these years. Why?”

“Because they were from ye. From the girl I would one day make my bride and cherish for the rest of my life. The girl who once trusted me to protect her most valuable things.” He blew an embarrassed breath and tucked the box into the shadows of the anteroom.

If Akira hadn’t already loved him, she would after that admission. What grown man keeps such things? She stood dumbfounded in the middle of the chamber. Her jaw open and poised to speak, but her mind could form no words.

“I was a foolish boy then. I protected your magic pebbles, and heart of stone, but I wasnae mon enough to protect ye or your child.” Calin crossed the room in three strides. “Ye may sleep in either solar. The maids just laundered the linens. I’ll have Evie bring ye warm water.”

“Wait. Where are ye going?” Akira stopped him just before he stepped over the threshold.

His broad shoulders fell and his head hung low. “I cannae be this close to ye and not touch ye.”

Akira ran to him before he disappeared into the darkened corridor. She cupped his hand over her cheek and stole a glimpse into his sorrowful eyes. Knowing she had caused his pain, she wanted to take it away and make it her own. “Then touch me, but dinnae leave.”

Calin pulled Akira into his chest. The strength of his embrace frightened her. “I am so verra sorry. I never meant to hurt ye. I never meant to deceive ye or cause the death of our child.”

She wept against his chest, and for the first time, she experienced a sense of freedom from her loss. Longing to release him from his guilt, she stepped away and dried her eyes on her sleeve. She cradled his strong jaw in her hands and swallowed. “Ye dinnae cause it. I blamed ye because I had no one else to blame. I was devastated and angry with ye. But I dinnae blame ye, or God or myself anymore.”

“I could’ve prevented it all had I not been such a coward. I should have protected ye.”

“Hear me, Calin. I was bleeding before Laird Kinnon’s men came for me. I dinnae realize it at the time, but I was already losing the babe. Our midwife explained many things to me. Ye cannae blame yourself, and I was wrong to accuse ye of such.”

Calin brought her palm to his lips. “Believe me when I tell ye, I wanted that child. There was never an underlying scheme to see ye suffer. I dinnae marry ye for vengeance. I should’ve told ye the truth, but I feared losing ye.”

Akira tugged on his hand with both of hers, coaxing him back into the chamber enough to close the door. “Then tell me now.” She guided him to the cushioned bench beside the peat fire burning in the hearth. “I wish to know of my mother. And of the night of my birth. Father Harrald said ye were there, but he dinnae say more.”

Calin squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head. “’Tis too painful. I’ll not burden ye with such nightmares. ’Tis enough for ye to know that Laird Kinnon was your father, but only in blood. Naught more.”

Akira leaned in and traced his stubborn eyebrow with the tip of her finger. “Please, Calin. I want to know. Dinnae keep the truth from me any longer.”

Calin contemplated while he stroked the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger. Then finally, the words came. “Your mother was beautiful. Ye look just like her. Same blue eyes, same silky black hair. Lena gave birth to three other daughters afore ye. They all died shortly after.”

“The Beast murdered them because they were girls?” Akira asked, unable to fathom what her mother must have endured.

Calin shrugged. “I cannae say for certain, but Lena believed he did. ’Tis why she came to my father. To ask for his protection.” He redirected his gaze to the floor rushes. “I think he fell in love with her almost instantly. They stole away together at the border as often as they could. She was kind to me, and I watched her belly grow until time grew too short for them to meet. I remember the last time she came to Da. A bruise tinted the side of her face and her eyes were swollen from tears. She pleaded with Da to push the alliance between our clans.”

“Why?”

“To protect ye. Lena believed she carried another daughter. She had dressed as a peasant and gone into Kilmarck to seek out a soothsayer. The seer drained blood from her belly and performed a ritual, after which she assured Lena she carried a lass. Lena feared Laird Kinnon would kill ye and believed our union was the only way to save ye. She made Da promise to protect ye until we were old enough to wed. I suspect she knew her death was imminent. Either by childbearing or at the hands of her husband.”

Calin now stared into the empty room as if watching the scene play out in front of him. “Laird Kinnon was suspicious of Da’s relationship with her. Their adulteress acts were probably the reason he agreed to our union. He never intended to follow through. He had Darach bundled in an antechamber awaiting presentation before ye ever came out of the womb.” Calin’s chin sank lower to his chest with every word. His strong features hardened.

“Think ye the mon would’ve had the decency to let your mother give birth in a privy chamber, but he paraded her pain in front of Da until she delivered ye on the council table. As soon as ye were born, Laird Kinnon ordered the slaughter of my father and his men then presented Darach as his son to the villagers o’ Dalkirth.”

Holding her breath, Akira sobbed internally, but she didn’t dare stop him. She wanted more than anything to know what happened to her and her mother.

“Laird Kinnon’s warriors killed the MacLeod men and then ran my father through with a halberd while Da placed a kiss upon Lena’s lips. Ye rested at her breast when they…” He paused, a small vein in his temple started to protrude.

She wiped her eyes, sniffled, and inhaled a shaky breath. Holding his hand as comfort, Akira consoled him. “Tell me. I need to know.”

“They cut your mother’s throat then confessed their sins to Father Harrald before they fled.” Calin’s voice settled into a husky whisper as if the words he guarded had never once crossed his lips.

“I believe my mother is at peace now. She was there ye know. At Brycen Castle. Her spirit.” After Laird Kinnon’s death, Darach had searched Brycen Castle for a trace of her mother’s warmth. The constant cold that had always been prevalent had dissipated. Father Harrald had accompanied Akira to her mother’s grave and blessed the ground her mother and sisters had been buried in.

“Mayhap, she couldnae leave this earth until she knew ye were safe,” Calin said.

Offering him a tender smile, Akira saw the young and frightened boy in his eyes. What he’d lived through could have turned his heart to ash, but Calin had chosen to protect her. “Ye have kept me safe. The same as ye did that night. Ye saved me.”

He kissed the inside of her wrist. “There is more.” Calin folded both her hands together in his as if what he was about to say might cause her to flee. “The mark. The one that has caused ye such grief. ’Tis not the mark of the devil. ’Tis the MacLeod crest. The head of a bull.” He pulled off his signet ring and placed it in her hand for her to study.

Holding the gold band beneath her nose, Akira focused on the horned animal. “I dinnae understand.”

“My mother died birthing me. Her death caused Da to become obsessed with his possessions. He marked what belonged to him with this symbol.” Calin gestured around the solar. “His targe, his claymore, his livestock. When I was but years of seven, I climbed over the curtain wall to follow my father’s warriors to the Isle of Mull near Tobermory. When Da found me, he gave me a sound thrashing then branded the bottoms of my feet with this ring.

“I branded ye, because ye were mine. Ye were my betrothed. My father died trying to save ye, and I intended to seek the alliance in his stead. But my triumph has not brought me the great joy I expected. I’ve lost everything. My child…my wife.”

And the truth shall set ye free.
The verse flashed through Akira’s head. She wasn’t a witch. A part of her always believed she might be. The part of her that knew she was different from her sisters, yet wanted so very much to belong.

Calin’s hand caressed the side of her cheek. “I’d give a thousand lifetimes to return to that night.”

Like a seasoned player, her heart directed her and told her to forgive him and bury the past. Reaching for his hand, she returned the signet ring to his finger then brought him to his feet in front of her. She splayed her hands against his—palm to palm. “But we only have this one lifetime, and I want to spend it with ye. I want to come home, Calin.” He pressed his brow to hers. Akira felt his hot breath on her face and ached for it. “Ye are my husband and I am your wife.”

“Ye are more than my wife.” Calin pulled her fingers to his ear. “Ye are my soul mate, and I love ye.”

For a timeless moment her heart stilled. A wild energy exploded inside her belly and flitted behind her breast. Akira closed her eyes and drew his bottom lip between hers. She tasted the salt of his tears, or were they hers. They were not tears of sadness, but tears of joy.

Calin loved her.

When she pulled away, she echoed his words. “I love ye, too, my Calin.”

Calin wondered if he was trapped inside a dream. Everything seemed so surreal. An intoxicating sense of contentment made him lightheaded and giddy. He could hardly believe he held his wife. A wife who loved him.

He disappeared into the antechamber only to reemerge with her wedding band. He placed the ring on her finger. “Ye are my wife, my love…my Akira, and I’ve been dead inside without ye.”

He held her neck and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He inhaled her air. “Sweet Akira,” he whispered into her mouth. “Breathe my soul back into my body.”

He kissed her gently. A kiss so filled with love it made his chest burn.

Akira stepped out of his arms and unfastened the brooch at his shoulder, loosening the pleats of his plaid. He removed his thick leather belt holding his sporran and sword. The jacket came next, then his
léine
shirt. She traced the new blue ring that circled his arm, the one that would forever remind him of the loss of his child.

Akira ran her hot hands over his skin, paying heed to every muscle in his torso before she placed her silky lips over his heart.

Her blue eyes glowed with hope as she looked up at him. “I love your heart and I love that ye are gentle with me. I love that ye have magic pebbles in a strongbox instead of gold and rubies.”

Calin would have snorted in utter humiliation at that last comment, but he could do little more than breathe with her hands and lips caressing him. She twined her fingers through the sparse hairs dusting his chest then suckled his nipple between her teeth.

He set her back, never once breaking the trance between their eyes. He removed her brooch and
arisaid
in much the same way she had disrobed him. Of course, he was aroused by her nakedness—fully erect, in fact. But the desire to have her seemed somehow different. The urgency was gone and he only wanted to touch her soul—his soul. He believed they were one and the same.

He encircled her waist with both hands and bent to kiss the milky white flesh above her heart. “I love your heart as weel, and I love your strength and your courage.”

His lips brushed the valleys of her collarbone and up her neck until he suckled her tender earlobe. “I love the way ye rub my ear between your fingers, and I love the sweet taste of your skin,” he whispered into the whorl of her ear.

Akira sprouted bumps and her nipples hardened against his chest. This could not be ignored. Calin bent and tickled the base of her breast with the tip of his nose. His tongue then swirled the perfect circular nipple, bathing her tight pebble with his saliva. Her upper body gave a shudder when he blew a cool burst of air around her crinkled areola. He showed the other equal attention until they both pointed upright at him. He lingered, taking each one into his mouth repeatedly, sucking and pulling until she squeaked and rubbed her knees together.

Calin moved to stand behind her and brushed her long black tresses over her shoulder. He scraped his teeth over the nape of her neck then kissed his way down the curve of her back, all the while titillating her sensitive breasts. Once he reached the bottom of her spine, he moved back to her ear. Clutching her hipbones, he pressed her backside against him so she could feel his desire for her then raised both her hands to her breasts. He mimicked her fingers over her nipples and whispered seductively in her ear. “I love the way ye touch yourself when I make love to ye.”

Her only response—quick heated moans of pleasure.

He left her hands to their own leisure and dipped one, then two fingers into the hot wet silk between her legs letting his thumb stimulate her aroused nub. She pulsed and throbbed all around him and Calin was certain he would explode between the cleft of her shapely backside. Akira had always made love with unabashed freedom. Even now, she arched her hips into his teasing hand and made those sweet mewling noises that set his ears aflame.

“Calin…my legs will nay longer hold me.”

A shudder rippled her body just before he carried her to his bed. A torch lit the side of her face throwing the other half in shadows. Waves of black hair spilled over the bolster. Her eyes glazed with passion, and her pinked lips were swollen from his kisses. She was beautiful, and she was his wife, and he adored her. He didn’t care if that made him less of a man, less of a warrior. He would spoil her with sweet words every day of her life if she let him.

His hands molded to her ankles and followed the curved path over her calves. The pulse behind her knees fluttered in tandem with the beat in his fingertips. He tasted the flesh of her thighs until she rolled her hips against him and whimpered for release.

Akira was certain she would die, or combust into a thousand bits of charred flesh. The hunger intensifying in her loins seemed stronger than ever before. The tension building in her physically, coupled with her heightened emotions, set her pulse to thrumming in her mons.

Threading her fingers through his tousled hair, she yanked him back up her body. “I need ye.”

For a flitting moment, they shared each other’s breath then her tongue swept through the seam of his lips to possess his.

She moaned and he pulled away. “Is it too soon? I dinnae want to hurt ye.” That constant concern riddled his voice.

“’Tis not too soon. I need to be one with ye. I want ye to make love to me because ye love me. I want to hear ye say the words aloud when ye fill my womb with your seed.” A frisson of desire pooled in her womb. Their love overcame a lifetime of vengeance. A love that survived a month of grief which nearly destroyed them both. Not even King James could take this love away from them.

She reached between their bodies and guided the smooth tip of his manhood inside her aching core. So much time had passed and he felt so thick and full inside her.

She wrapped her legs around the backs of his muscular thighs and set the pace. He tried to go slow, but she denied him. The walls of her canal flexed and cinched tight around him, begging for release. But he continued the exquisite torture, pulling himself almost completely out before easing his shaft deeper inside her—one succulent inch at a time.

When she could bear the sweet torture no more, she cried out his name then the salvation of his fingers stroked her to a powerful climax. The spasms wracked her body. Waves of ecstasy washed through her, dousing the flames that threatened to incinerate her.