Highlander's Ransom (16 page)

He picked up the bar of soap next to the tub and gave
it a sniff. Lavender. Well, he’d smell like a woman after this bath, but that
was better than how he smelled now. He washed absently, still chewing on the
puzzle of his body’s response—and one part of his body in particular—to Alwin.
He was becoming familiar with her little gestures and thought patterns. He
liked the way she carried herself with a delicate dignity, even under the worst
circumstances. And his heart had nearly burst seeing her genuine emotion for
Liam, Mara, and little Danny. She could clearly care deeply, but she was no
weakling. She had leveled him with the harsh comparison of being like Warren
and her father when he had secretly wed them.

He frowned at that thought. He didn’t like the idea of
her thinking so poorly of him. Without his permission, his mind jumped to
thoughts of how to make things right by her, how to get her to forgive him and
prove that he was a good man. He chastised himself for such a wandering mind.
He didn’t need to prove anything to her. He knew who he was and why he was
doing this. Besides, once their marriage had secured its intended
purpose—thwarting Warren—then she likely wouldn’t be in his life anymore
anyway—would she?

Robert hadn’t let himself consider any other
possibility than returning his life to the way it had been before he met her,
but he also couldn’t figure out what to do with the lass once his plan had been
executed. If he got the marriage annulled, Alwin’s father could potentially
cause problems, claiming that her dowry should be returned. He could let the
marriage stand and send her to a nunnery, but he rejected that thought
immediately, not liking the idea of forcing her into such a life, and all
because of his decisions for her. She couldn’t be allowed to leave and marry
another, though. Robert couldn’t exactly explain to himself why this was so
clear to him, but the thought of her with another man made his blood boil for
some reason.

He had grown protective of her, he could admit. But it
was only because he took responsibility for putting her in such a dangerous and
precarious position. In a way, he realized, their marriage actually afforded
her a measure of protection. She could not fall under the control of her father
any more. From what Alwin had alluded to earlier on their journey, he was not a
kind or loving man. Nor could that bastard Warren get his hands on her again,
he thought heatedly. If they remained married, she would have a place here,
protection, and a home. But then again, he couldn’t make such a decision for
her. He had already done enough of that. He would also have to work hard to not
compromise her further. It was bad enough that he had succumbed to his desire
and kissed her. If he went any further, then her choices would be gone.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his wet hair. If
he could keep his distance, then once his plan was executed, he could go back
to the life he had before: working for his clan toward peace, without the
distraction of an intoxicatingly beautiful English lass complicating things. He
dunked his head one last time in the now-tepid bathwater. Reemerging, he
scanned the room for a towel. He cursed softly when he noticed that a stack of
fresh towels sat atop his desk several feet away from the tub. Just as he began
to stand upright to fetch one, a flicker caught his eye and he looked over at
Alwin. Her eyes were open and she was staring right at him.

Chapter 22

The sound of splashing water and Robert’s muttered
curse had woken her. But what she saw before her was not entirely different
than what had just been filling her dreams. She had dreamt of Robert’s kiss and
the feel of his strong, muscular body pressed against her. Now she had a full
view of that body, from his dripping hair down to his hip bones, which were
just visible above the tub’s rim. She gasped at the sight of him. Every contour
of his body was hard and honed. His jet black hair was finger-combed back from
his face and dripped around his wide shoulders. His muscular chest tapered into
a trim waist, and water sluiced over each ripple and contour. His arms, which
were now resting on the tub’s edge, flexed as he clenched his hands. She
dragged her eyes away from his magnificent form and met his eyes, which were
shooting fire toward her, but not, she registered somewhere in the back of her
mind, out of anger.

She tried to swallow, but found her mouth had gone
dry. “What are you doing?” she managed to choke out finally.

“What does it look like I’m doing, lass? I’m taking a
bath in my own chamber,” he said dryly, but heat still radiated from his eyes.

“Oh, well, Stella showed me up here and had this bath
prepared and told me that I should not be afraid to be in this chamber, and
that I could wear this shirt while she found something else for me to wear,”
she said in a rush, feeling a deep blush creeping from her neck to her face as
she heard her own frantic voice in her ears.

“She’s a crafty one,” he said, letting one corner of
his mouth rise in a half-smile. “She sent me in here to bathe as well, but
neglected to mention that you were here.”

“I’ll go!” she said, leaping from the bed in a rush to
escape his heated gaze and his godlike body, which was doing funny things to
her insides.

“If you don’t mind, lass, I was just going to go fetch
one of those towels over there…”

She scrambled over, not wanting him to reveal any more
of his body, else she lose her wits completely. She felt his eyes on her
predatorily as she moved across the room, picked up a towel, and began to
approach him. Had the prey ever wanted to be caught before?

He waited until she was directly in front of him
before raising his hand to take the towel from her slightly trembling hand. She
had never seen this much of a man before, and part of her was frightened out of
her senses, but she was also rapt at his perfect, muscular physique. She
couldn’t stop herself from flickering her gaze between his hungry eyes and the
smooth, naked planes of his chiseled torso.

“Thank you,” he said softly as he grasped the towel,
but she was so intently staring at him that she didn’t release her hold. Their
gazes locked, and lightning almost crackled between them. Something seemed to
snap inside him. He tugged hard on the towel so that she was jerked forward
against his wet chest. His arms wrapped around her and his mouth came down onto
hers.

She could feel each one of the rippling muscles she
had just been staring at through the thin linen of the shirt she wore. She
looped her arms around his neck, letting her fingertips skim across his broad
and powerful shoulders. His body radiated heat, and he smelled like clean
masculinity, with a hint of lavender. His kiss seared her lips, and she moaned
into his mouth as he deepened their contact. His damp skin was soaking through
her shirt, making the material plaster to her skin and leaving only a thin
barrier between them. His hand slipped to her bottom and he pulled her hips
against his. She could feel his manhood pressed against her, hard and large.

The hand on her bottom moved up to cup one of her
breasts. The contact, inhibited only by the wet shirt, caused her to shiver and
moan again. He moved his thumb over her nipple as he gently grazed his teeth
over her bottom lip. She arched into him, and at that, he too moaned, the sound
a deep and masculine growl.

Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms and stepped
over the rim of the tub, not breaking their kiss. He strode over to the bed and
laid her down on it, leaning over her with his weight on one elbow while his
other hand brushed up her calf. His hand was strong and calloused, but he
managed a light caress as he moved to her knee, then her thigh. Her head spun
with the sensations of his lips and hand, and she felt as though she were in a
fog. A very distant part of her screamed that she shouldn’t let him go any
farther, for they were wading into dangerous waters. That rational side,
though, was muted by the animal passion that he had awoken within her.

His hand slipped under the material of the shirt,
moving still higher up her thigh. She shuddered under his touch, longing for
more. The spot between her legs had grown damp and ached for something, but she
wasn’t sure what. All she could register was that Robert’s touch seemed to both
cause the ache and might be able to relieve it.

Just then a soft knock sounded at the door, and Alwin
nearly jumped out of her skin. Through the heavy wood, Stella’s voice said
“I’ve found some clothes that might do for Lady Alwin.” At the mention of
clothes, Alwin looked down at herself and gasped. The white linen shirt she was
wearing had absorbed the water from Robert’s body, and was plastered to every
one of her contours, rendered almost completely see-through. Robert’s gaze
followed hers.

“Christ,” he breathed.

Reclined in his arms was the most beautiful sight he
had ever seen—nay, the most beautiful he could ever imagine in his wildest
fantasies. Alwin’s grey eyes were bottomless pools in the firelight. Her lips
were redder than normal from their passionate kiss, and a pink blush warmed her
skin. He could see her breasts clearly outlined through the wet linen of the
shirt she wore, each firm, full curve topped with a rosy nipple the same shade
as her lips. Glancing farther down, he saw his hand underneath the shirt’s hem.
His fingers on her creamy, smooth thigh were just inches from the apex between
her legs. He was half on top of her, completely naked. His eyes traveled back
up to her face, and he saw the look of horror there. She was so damned
enticing, but what was he doing? Hadn’t he just told himself that he couldn’t
compromise her further, couldn’t play with the fire that seemed to spark
between them? Cursing himself again for being so controlled by his baser side,
he leapt from the bed and spun around so that his back was to her, all in one
fluid movement. He snatched up the towel she had used after her bath, which was
on the foot of the bed, and deftly wrapped it around his waist to preserve her
modesty and innocence.

He strode over to the door and opened it a crack.
“Lady Alwin fell into a deep sleep after her bath, and she still sleeps now,”
he said crossly into Stella’s grinning face. “Give me a moment and I will be
out of your hair.” With that, he closed the door on her and turned back to
Alwin. She had sat upright and tugged one of the bed’s coverlets over her to
shield herself. A look of shock and confusion at what had passed between them
lingered on her face, but there was also gratitude in her eyes for his lie to
Stella. He doubted his shrewd servant had believed him, but it was the least he
could do to try to alleviate some of Alwin’s embarrassment. He went to the
armoire and retrieved a thick robe to throw around himself, then went back to
the door. Without a look behind him, he strode through, leaving it open for
Stella to enter after him.

Chapter 23

Alwin quickly laid herself out on the bed again,
closing her eyes and feigning sleep as Robert passed out of the door. She heard
Stella bustling about the room and decided to give up the ruse. She blinked
open her eyes and sat up, only half-heartedly acting like she had been asleep.
Stella graciously didn’t say anything or look at her for a few moments, and
instead collected the towels and the bar of soap. Alwin noticed that she had
also draped some clothes over the chair when she had come in.

“Ah, mistress, you’re awake,” Stella said. “I’ve
brought you some garments until we can have yours cleaned and make you some new
ones.”

“That’s very kind of you, Stella. I’ll be much obliged
to have my own clothes back, but please, do not trouble yourself with making
new ones for me.” She didn’t say that she had no idea how long she would be
here, and in what capacity, but Stella seemed to pick up on her omission.

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it, mistress.
For now, I’ve rummaged these from the Laird’s late mother’s closet. She was
about your size, though perhaps a bit shorter. Nevertheless, these should do
the trick for such a last-minute occasion.” Stella retrieved a clean white
chemise and what looked to be a deep blue gown from the chair and brought it
over to Alwin. Alwin quickly scooted out of Robert’s shirt. If Stella saw it,
she’d notice that it was wet on the front from Robert’s embrace.

She let Stella slip the new chemise over her head. The
older woman was right—the chemise only barely brushed her ankles, but by
adjusting the ties in the front, the fit was fairly good. Next the dress went
on, and Alwin found the fit quite flattering. The dress hugged her body
closely, showing her slim waist, gently curved hips, and full breasts while
still being modest enough for a lady. The color was breathtaking. It reminded
Alwin of the deep blue of the pre-dawn sky.

Stella gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll send up the lads to
remove the tub, along with a few of the girls to see to your preparations.”

“Preparations for what?”

“The wedding feast, of course! We can’t let our Laird
run off and get married without a proper celebration!” Stella replied.

“Oh.” Alwin’s nervousness was returning again. What
was she expected to do during this feast? Should she act like she and Robert
were happily married? Was she truly a part of this clan now—the mistress of the
clan? Would Robert tell them that he had only married her to further his own
power play against Warren, or would he lie to his people the way he had lied to
her? And how could she face Robert after their latest encounter? She had acted
like a wanton, driven only by desire. Even as she thought this, though, a part
of her rejected it. She wasn’t some harlot; her response to Robert was
different than anything she had experienced before. And besides, they were
married! But at the same time, she hardly knew him. Her instincts told her that
he was a good man, but the precarious position she was in was also his doing.
She didn’t understand how she could hate Robert so much for the position he was
putting her in, and still long for his touch, his kiss—and more. He had
awakened some part of her that she never knew existed, and she longed to learn
more about that side of herself, and that side of him. But she couldn’t allow
herself to be blinded by lust, to ignore the fact that he had taken away her
freedom by sneaking his way into a marriage bind with her.

All these thoughts tumbled through her head, and she
felt like she was drowning in a sea of confusion. She was only slightly
distracted as Stella called down orders to have the tub removed and to send up
two servants to plait her hair and make other preparations for the feast. The
servants moved about the room quietly, sensing their new mistress’s
consternation. She hardly noticed as they offered her a new pair of slippers to
go with her gown, plaited her tresses in an elaborate pattern that left half of
her hair flowing down her back, and placed a circlet of gold atop her head.

Much time must have passed, however, for she realized
that she was starving all of a sudden. At a grumble from her stomach, Stella
said, “Well, that sounds like our cue. The clan has already gathered below to
welcome you and celebrate your marriage, mistress. Shall we join them?” Stella
extended her hand toward the door, ushering her out of the chamber. With her
mind still in turmoil, Alwin stood and glided through the door and down the
stairs to the waiting crowd.

Chapter 24

Robert fidgeted at the head table. What was taking so
long? He lifted his mug of ale to his lips again, and let his eyes skitter to
the stairs at the other end of the great hall. After leaving his chamber in a
rush, he had gone to a different tower to don clean clothes, shave, and comb his
hair in preparation for the impromptu feast. He had also sent off a missive to
Raef Warren informing him of an acquisition he had recently made that might
interest him. Though part of him had niggled at the thought of treating Alwin
like a bargaining chip—just as Warren undoubtedly did—he pushed his doubts
aside and had ordered a messenger to leave immediately after the feast with the
missive. Perhaps it would be best to get this whole scheme over with as quickly
as possible, he thought, taking another swig of ale. How the hell he was going
to manage to get Alwin’s dowry and her ransom while keeping her from Warren
remained to be solved.

Setting aside that tangled problem, he had joined his
people in the great hall to await the start of the celebration. Ale had already
been passed through the crowd, and the cheery buzz of conversation now filled
the hall. His people were genuinely happy. Not only had their Laird returned
safe and victorious, but he had also managed to secure a wife. He was expecting
a bit more reservation from them about the mysterious circumstances under which
he had wed, and the fact that his new bride was English, but no one seemed to
mind, at least not yet.

Their overwhelmingly positive response made Robert
realize just how hard these last few years must have been on his people, and
not just because of their slow recovery from the warfare of the past. He knew
they appreciated his missions, but perhaps all those treks to the borderlands
had taken a toll. He had been away so much in the last four years. A thought
crept into his mind. Maybe his people would be better served by his presence
with the clan at Roslin rather than off in the borderlands.

And as for marriage, he had never allowed Stella or
the others’ pleas to take a wife to penetrate much, because he was always
putting his missions first. He had no time to arrange for such a union, and no
inclination to be tied to a woman purely for political reasons. Of course, part
of the reason this marriage to Alwin happened at all was that it had required
no planning, no negotiations, no awkward talks of alliances and dowries.
Instead of getting in the way of his counter-war efforts against the English,
it actually aided them. And he didn’t anticipate the need to be tied to her for
the rest of his life—only until he could execute his plan, he told himself
firmly. Once his goal was achieved, he would figure out what to do next with
their situation.

But even as he reassured himself of this plan, a
little voice in the back of his head shouted that he was being a blind fool.
Despite their muddled circumstances, there was something between them. The
thought of their kiss had scorched his memory, and he couldn’t stop thinking
about it—about her. Her scent clung to him, threatening to drive him insane.
Her beautiful face and body swam before his eyes, and the feel of her smooth
skin trembling with desire under his hand sent his cock hardening all over
again. And it wasn’t just her beauty. He admired her courage, her unashamed
vulnerability, her gracefulness. She possessed a regal air that was not just a
product of her birth; rather, it was an outward sign of the intoxicating
mixture of her delicacy and fortitude that he had never encountered before.