Highland Dragon (29 page)

Calin released a fierce growl atop her. His arms shook. Sweat beaded his furrowed brow. He held himself deep inside her and pumped quick tiny draws filling her with a new life.

The weight of his spent body pressed her into the feather tick. They remained connected as one, lingering in the sensuality of their lovemaking. She paced her breathing to the declining beat of their hearts. After extracting her short nails from his arse, she caressed the muscular plain of his back.

Calin raised his head from the crook of her neck and kissed the tip of her nose. He wiped the tears from her eyes—tears she didn’t even realize were there—and raised one dark brow.

Akira beguiled him with an impish grin. Her tongue darted out to lick her tingling lips. “
That
was the way I know.”

He lightly brushed his lips over her smile then eased himself out of her. When he stepped from the bed, she practically fell off the edge behind him, so intent was her study on his rump. “Crivons! What in all o’ Scots have ye done to your arse?”

He grinned a devil’s grin and twisted in a way that allowed him to peek over his shoulder at his nicely formed backside. “Ye dinnae like it?” His tone filled with disappointment.

“What is it?” Akira reached out to trace the contours of a blue-black winged serpent tattooed on his left cheek in much the same place as Akira’s brand.

“’Tis your mark,” he said. “Ye wear the MacLeod crest, and I wear your dragon.”

She laughed outright at the sight and rolled back into the bed. “’Tis verra becoming, but I suspect ’tis not where a warrior would typically mark himself.”

“’Tis where this warrior did.”

The sound of trickling water awoke Calin’s ears. What smelled like warm mist rising above a fresh spring filled his nostrils. Then came the faint aroma of her sweet scent.

Had he been dreaming? Had Akira even been in his arms, loving him throughout the night? Or did he sleep through the winter only to awaken alone once again? Pushing through the cobwebs of confusion, Calin forced his eyes to slide open and answer those questions.

She was there, her back to him, standing naked beside the hearth. Her hair pinned in loose braids at the nape of her neck with only a few stray wisps to kiss her shoulders. The hues of morning snuck through the narrow window to paint her wet glistening skin in pinks and golds. A pail of steaming water sat atop the cuttie stool at her side. She dipped the sponge and traced the contours of her arm, down her side, and then over her heart-shaped bottom. The path left iridescent bubbles over the perfection of her skin.

Her performance was grace in motion. An erotic dance only she could perform.

She turned slightly.

Calin was rewarded with a view of her perfect breast. He parted his lips, knowing he should speak, but clamped his mouth shut along with his eyes when she twisted to look at him. He kept the rise and fall of his chest to a steady rhythm and held his face still as stone.

Again, came the bell-like tinkling of water. Barely raising one eye, he peeked through his lashes. The tips of her fingers lathered her neck, her breast, her stomach, then disappeared between her legs. She had to hear his heartbeat as it boomed in his ears like a thousand string-taut drums.

By the saints, she was exquisite. How had he never noticed the sensuality of her movements before?

Akira rinsed herself clean then patted dry with a towel. To his great disappointment, she disappeared into the antechamber only to emerge moments later garbed in a simple linen sark.

The bones in his fingers went rigid when he caught sight of the strongbox in her hands. She would think him weak and foolish for keeping such trinkets. He never should have saved them. If his men knew what was in that box, he’d never live down their badgering.

She curled up with a wool coverlet atop the bench, propped the box in her lap, and inhaled deeply just as she opened the lid. A smile bowed her lips.

Calin watched her read the missives she’d sent him as a young girl. She tickled the skin above her lip with a loose tendril of hair and periodically wiped tears on her sleeve. From time to time, she would hide a giggle behind her hand and roll her eyes as if embarrassed by her own writings. She stole glimpses at him between readings, obviously reassuring herself he still slept.

Just as Calin would have ended his false pretense, she whisked back into motion. Akira replaced the keepsakes, tidied up, and donned a blue kirtle. Hope struck a chord deep inside him when she pinned the blue and green sash over her shoulder.

She would stay. They would have a dozen bairns just as she’d wanted. All she had to do was decree Kendrick at the council meeting and admit she belonged at Cànwyck Castle with him.

The sudden intensity of her frown worried him. “Why would a woman who has been loved so heartily throughout the night wear such a sour face?” he asked with a quirky wit that broke the silence.

Akira’s head snapped up at him, then came the wonder of her smile. “Ye are awake. I feared ye may have slipped into the sleep of the dead. Such a lazy mon ye’ve turned out to be.” She held out one hand and arched a wicked brow. “Come to me, husband. I will bathe and dress ye.”

“I would prefer ye undress and come back to bed so I can wake ye properly.”

“I am already awake, and the elders await us. Think ye I want my husband to smell like a goat at the council meeting?”

He laughed at her, then forced himself to slip from the coverlet and walk to her side. “I have bathed more since I met ye than I have in the past year. ’Tis not manly to always smell of flowers.”

She laved him with the water still fragrant with her scent. The aroma, an aphrodisiac to his senses, sent his manhood jutting against his belly.

She smiled and licked her lips. “Your cock doesn’t seem to object to a good scrubbing.”

His bold little wife had always been forthright and just as he was about to reprimand her for her unladylike candor, she wrapped her strong fingers around him and massaged thick suds into his taut sac. Even if he managed a retort, he doubted his words would make sense.

She bathed his shoulders and arms, then his pectoral muscles until lingering over his abdomen. Her touch ignited his nerve endings and wracked his body with need. Even the cool water rinsing him couldn’t temper the heat rushing beneath his skin.

He thought she may have brushed her lips over his fevered flesh, but reality became nothing more than a blurred haze when her hot mouth slid over his erection.

He sucked in air sharply and fisted his hands in her hair while she pleasured him. He moaned and opened his eyes to find her staring up at him. Big blue eyes sparkled with mischief while the scrape of her teeth and swirl of her tongue nearly caused him to spill his seed then and there. He jerked her off him with a grunt. “By the saints, wife! Are ye trying to kill me? Ye are wicked. Verra, verra wicked.”

She giggled, wiped her mouth, and handed him a towel, which felt like a handful of straw compared to the soft silk of her skin. As soon as his mind functioned properly, he would try to sort fantasy from reality.

“Mayhap I will let ye punish me later,” she said, holding up his
léine
shirt for him to slip into. “For now ’tis time we meet with the elders of our clans.” She began dressing him, pleating his plaid to perfection. “Laird Donald has expressed his desire to return home quickly before the weather forces him to sojourn here during the winter months. The mon’s sworn oath is sufficient for me, but Kendrick insists on formalizing the alliance.”

She draped the MacLeod sash over his shoulder then pinned the ends with a sad smile. “There is also the matter with Catriona. The charges against her need addressed.” Akira took a subtle step backward. “And as much as the subject may displease ye, our annulment must be discussed with the MacLeod council. King James’ wishes cannae go unheeded, and I dinnae wish to bring any trouble to your kinfolk.”

“The matter with King James has been resolved.”

Her brows stitched together. “What do ye mean has been resolved? Has our marriage been annulled? When did this happen? I have signed no papers.”

Calin pressed his index finger over her lips. “Come, wife. I will let Robert tell ye.”

“Robert?” she asked behind his finger. “Elsbeth’s husband?”

“Aye.”

The council chamber hummed with the talk of peace and resolution. Calin, Kendrick, and Laird Donald sat among the elders of their clans. Goblets of dark wine scattered the stone table along with ripe cheese and a host of steaming barley bread. Father Harrald hovered beneath the colored glass portrait of Saint Aidan awaiting his duty to bless the alliance.

Akira stood at Calin’s back, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other clutching two scrolls she had written. He almost felt guilty for making her wait through the formality of aligning the clans before calling Robert to present her with the information he’d only recently supplied Calin.

He brought the meeting to order formally. “Friends. Neighbors. Honored guests. ’Tis my great privilege to pay homage to the Isles’ most illustrious leaders. A league bound by fellowship, amity, and trust. With this alliance, our kin will know the rewards of everlasting peace between our clans and the promise of protection for our heirs and successors.”

Calin paused only long enough to cover Akira’s hand with his own. “If it pleases the members of our council, I would call upon Laird Kinnon to dictate the conditions of the contract whereat a formal vote will be initiated.”

A moment passed before Akira realized he was referring to her. She brushed back a damp wisp of hair from her temple, then proceeded to unravel the first of her scrolls. Securing the parchment beneath the weight of four stones, Akira poised herself. “This contract binds our clans together. Its contents state that we, as aligned kin, will protect the borders of the Isles and fight as one entity to protect our people and our land from foreign invasion.” Her eyes fixed on the contract. “On this tenth day of January, the year of our Lord, fifteen hundred ought three…”

She recited the terms of obligation to be instilled in their clans. By the time she finished, two of the elders were snoring. She cleared her throat and nudged Calin to initiate the vote.

“Those in favor of the alliance respond.” His booming voice aroused any man still lost in his thoughts.

“Aye.” Their united agreement nearly raised the ceiling.

“Those against.”

The chamber fell silent.

Calin moved to dip the quill in the inkhorn and sign the contract, after which he handed Laird Donald the quill, who signed, and then passed it to Akira. As the chieftain of Clan Kinnon, Akira had to sign the contract for the alliance to be finalized. He didn’t know what caused her to stop and worry her bottom lip. A tinge of trepidation moved over her sapphire irises.

Calin wanted to comfort her. Instead, he scrutinized her conduct. “M’lady, ye wrote the contract. Do your own terms displease ye?”

Akira shook her head and drew an audible breath then unraveled the second scroll. “Forgive me, m’laird. I should have done this a long time ago.” Boasting a proud chin, she spoke directly to the Kinnon elders. “With the blessing of my council, I wish to decree chieftainship over Clan Kinnon unto Kendrick Neish. As blessed blood of the Kinnon line, I bequeath the power of chieftainship unto my half-brother and heir of Baen Kinnon, deceased chieftain of Clan Kinnon.”

Akira offered her brother the quill, delaying only long enough to lovingly brush his hand. “He will undoubtedly make a brave and noble leader.”

Kendrick pressed his lips to her forehead. “’Twill be my honor to serve and protect all those residing on Kinnon soil. Given the elders agreement.”

The voice of the Kinnon council voted their favor in unison, whereupon Kendrick placed his signature at the bottom of both scrolls.

Her smile radiant, Akira sprinkled sand over the freshly inked signatures. Calin’s heart rested and he blew an audible breath, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

Father Harrald rushed tableside and blessed both contracts. Calin knew, he too, had waited far too long to see the clans at peace.

It was done. With the alliance formalized and Kendrick ordained as chieftain, nothing could hinder his future with Akira.

So why did she turn to leave the chamber? He had yet to even summon Robert.

“M’lady, ye will take your place at my right as my wife and Lady o’ Cànwyck Castle. There is more to discuss that requires your attention.” His tone seeped with arrogance. He felt like a falcon in flight. The lift in his lips could no more be prevented than the rise of the sun. Even the barefaced look of hostility puckering Akira’s expression couldn’t dissuade his good cheer.

“Forgive me, m’laird. I had hoped to discuss the matter of our annulment privately with your council.” Akira pinned her fists onto her hips and narrowed her eyes on him.

He would probably regret not taking heed to her stance, but, fool that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Why would he embarrass me like this? He claims to love me, yet flaunts our personal situation before a chamber of men.
In a desperate attempt to diminish the council chamber by two-thirds, Akira donned a smile and offered. “Might we bid our guests fareweel first, m’laird? I’m certain Laird Donald and the members of his council, as weel as the Kinnon elders, have no interest in hearing the details of our marriage contract.”

Laird Donald perked up, scraping a lock of black hair tipped gray from his brow. “Horseshite. I am verra interested.”

“Gordon, fetch Sir Robert. He’s in the corridor,” Calin ordered.

What did Sir Robert have to do with her marriage? And why did her husband seem so delighted with the Englishman’s presence? Akira dragged her feet over the floor rushes until she reached Calin’s side. He spun her around, forcing her to face Elsbeth’s husband. The weight of Calin’s hand resting at the small of her back did little to ease her distress.

“Robert has something to share with ye, wife.”

The Englishman bowed in reverence. “When I received missive from Laird MacLeod welcoming me to his clan, I had but three duties to achieve.” Robert held up one finger. “Denounce the King of England, which as you know I did.” A second finger came up. “Swear fealty to the chieftain of Clan MacLeod, which I have done as well.” The third finger rose to join the others. “And finally to bring proof of the bloodline of one Lena Kinnon. ’Tis my privilege to be standing in the same chamber as the great-niece of the sixth Earl of Stafford and granddaughter of the Countess of March. Ye bear many noble titles, m’lady, but most important, ye are English. Well, half anyway, with a smidgen of Irish to boot.”

Akira felt her eyes go round and her chin drop, leaving her mouth gaping.

Robert continued to smile, all the while he presented her with a large ruby and diamond-encrusted ring. “You’ve a great-aunt still living in Queensborough. She is widowed now, but hopes you might find time to pay visit after your King James marries King Henry’s daughter. The Treaty of Perpetual Peace has been a year in the making, but soon Scotland and England will be at peace.”

“Crivons! I am English?” Akira was once again beside herself with shock. She glared up at Calin. “Ye knew about this, too?”

“I only recently sent queries to England seeking knowledge of your lineage on your mother’s side.” Calin smiled and shrugged. “King James has been placated. Now quit scowling at me and allow me to revel in my merriment. My conscience is finally free of every secret inside my head. By the saints, have ye any idea how liberating that is?”

“Liberating! Free. I am bluidy English!” Akira pushed him—hard. “Think ye your clan will not have something to say about serving an English lady, with a wee bit o’ Irish to boot?”