Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) (18 page)

A pain as great as a thousand wounds battered Elin. She was not a sentimental female, but tears filled her eyes and sluiced down her cheeks, and she cared not who saw them.

She buried her face in Malcolm's chest and cried for all the times she had failed him.

H
e heard her tears, keen with sorrow. 'Twas Elin, and not a dream. He felt a thirst so great his tongue tasted like sand. Savage spears of heat and pain pierced him like a thousand daggers. It was darkness that called him, but Elin who drew him.

He could hardly feel her through the pain and fever, but she was against his chest, over his heart, her tears hot like liquid gold against his skin.

He placed his hand on her head and wound his fingers in her fiery curls. For some reason, she cried harder. Her hand grasped his as if she alone had dragged him from death's dark hold. Remembering how she'd taken a sword to Edward, he believed she had.

 

He woke to savage spears of heat piercing his abdomen. He opened his eyes and the light burned. He endured the pain, searching the room for her.

Dawn gilded her as she worked over the table, mixing herbs with careful precision. Peach light drew a fiery luster to her curls of gold and warmed the ivory beauty of her complexion. How she drew his heart.

As if she felt his admiring gaze, her fingers stilled at her
work. She smiled at him with such brightness that it made the sun look feeble. “Look who's awake. The slugabed, the lazy laggard.”

“Aye. 'Tis disgraceful.”

She knelt at his side and pressed a chalice to his lips. Cool water sluiced over his parched tongue and wet the sand in his throat. “Edward will be here in but a few moments. There is much I need to say before I go.”

His head pounded, but looking at her soothed some of the pain. “'Tis a crime to hold a sword to the king's throat.”

“I know what I did.” Elin dabbed his chin with a cloth. “Can you believe for once I did not act rashly?”

“That was
not
a rash act?”

“Nay. I thought it well through.” Her smile dimmed, but her touch lingered against his rough jaw, infinitely gentle.

He savored that touch, drinking it in. 'Twas a wondrous thing, that affection. “You make me a weakling, dove. I have suffered more wounds than I can count. Not one of them has festered. I could miss a summer's worth of sleep and not fall ill, become puny.”

“Aye, and now true love has rendered you weak and delicate.” Her touch burnished the curve of his shoulder, another cherished caress.

“Elin, 'tis a serious flaw when a knight has a weakness.” He laid his hand against her cheek, cupping the side of her face. “A woman can leave a warrior vulnerable. Like a knight without armor or shield.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. A single tear rolled down her face. “I'll not betray you, Malcolm. You can sleep at my side and know I would lift my dagger to defend you, not slay you.”

“I know.”

She sank to his chest, holding him sweetly. He knew she meant what she said, and now he wanted to believe it could be different. That he would not wake to find a dagger at his back one night or his enemy in the room. That he would not know the sting of yet another betrayal.

“For nights there have been words upon my tongue.” She sniffed, this warrior woman with a weakness of her own. “But now that you are awake, I cannot speak. I am far too cowardly to admit the truth.”

“Then do not try.” He heard the words in her heart. And it would be easier to never hear her speak of her love for him.

The door burst open and Edward approached, with what seemed like an army behind him. Surprise, then pleasure lit the king's face. “Malcolm. 'Tis true. You live.”

“Aye. I drank little of the second cup of poisoned wine, what with Elin charging into the room like a madwoman.” He read at once the grim intention on his king's face. “Do not take her, Edward. She saved my life.”

“She threatened mine and my men's.”

Elin straightened and dashed the tears from her eyes. “'Tis true. I know the penalty of my actions. I only ask that you not punish Giles, Justus and Hugh. They acted out of loyalty to their commander.”

“And you? What did you act out of?” Edward demanded.

She bowed her chin. A thousand retorts sat upon her tongue, and yet the true answer frightened her because of the hold it placed upon her heart. “For love, sire.”

“And you would risk your life for love? Defy your king?”

She felt so foolish and far too sentimental. “I would not have harmed you. When I smelled the oakwood I knew the
danger. I would have used my sword to stop the healer, but you stepped in my way.”

Edward scowled, and she read no mercy on his over-bearing face.

Malcolm sat, then stood, looking as fierce as his king. “Let my wife stay, Edward. Think of the trouble she will cause in your tower.”

“I shall not forgive you, Lady Elinore.” Edward vibrated with fury. “But Malcolm values your life, and so I will grant him this favor.”

Elin watched in disbelief as the king turned, leaving her without punishment. She dropped to her knees. “Thank you, sire.”

“You came close to losing your head.” Malcolm's touch to her shoulder drew her around. “And what a pity that would be. I've grown fond of you.”

“Truly?”

“Aye.”

He was trembling with weakness, but discovered the strength to pull her close. She found a tenderness unparalleled in his arms as hard as steel.

 

“I was wrong about you, lady,” Ian admitted as he brought her the tray of food from the servants in the corridor. “I beg your forgiveness.”

“You well know I broke a few laws.” Elin took the tray from him and set it down on the table. Malcolm slept on his stomach, sprawled across the large bed. Safe, at last.

“It has already been tasted.” Ian gestured toward the trenchers of steaming food. “Will he recover his strength? Edward feared the effects of the poison.”

“He has trouble moving now, but I believe 'tis only temporary. I've seen lasting paralysis from poisons, and Malcolm has few signs of it.” Elin could not stop the
warmth in her heart when she looked upon her husband asleep. He was a beautiful man in many ways. “Glad I am he has such loyal friends to protect him.”

“That was the reason I decided not to slay you when you defied the king. Giles stood by you, and he has known Malcolm the longest. He would never do him harm.”

“Nor would any of his men. They are loyal.”

“You would be surprised.” Ian's face darkened with regret as he stepped from the chamber. “Loyalty is a great bond, but there are stronger ones.”

Like love.

She knew she was becoming victim to sentimental feelings, but she carried a trencher and goblet to the bedside anyway. If she made Malcolm weak, as he claimed, then he made her weak as well. They would be weak sentimental fools together.

“Nay, no more water.” Malcolm stirred. “There was a day when I would have killed for a drop. Now you've given me so much, I feel ready to burst.”

“Drink anyway.” She set the goblet to his lips. “The cook has sent up smoked salmon, if you can stomach it. I'm told 'tis your favorite.”

“I am no mewling babe who needs waiting upon.” He sat weakly, his mouth a grimace, his muscles straining. “Just hand me the trencher.”

“Let me serve you.” She broke off a piece of fish and placed it upon his lips.

His mouth took the morsel and her finger in a brief lave of pleasure that left her tingling. “You improve the taste of the salmon.”

“Are you saying I taste fishy?”

“Mayhap I should investigate further.” His lips slanted over hers with a gentle possessiveness that both soothed and excited. “I taste no fish, only passion.”

“Behave, Husband.” She broke off another bite of salmon. “You are an ill man, and this time you
will
rest and recover. Or else I'll take my sword to you.”

“I quake with terror.” He ate from her fingertips with the brush of lips and tongue.

“More water.” She lifted the goblet to his mouth and held it steady while he drank. “Your color is much improved. The fever is all but gone.”

“Have you been at my side all night?”

“Aye, and the nights before that.”

“I remember.” He broke off a segment of salmon. The heat of his fingertips sizzled like new embers upon her lips as he fed it to her. “I cannot recall a time when a woman tended me without thought of compensation.”

She claimed the piece of meat with her tongue. How sweet it tasted. “Compensation? Ha! I knew saving your life would bring me some benefit.”

“A few gold coins, but no more.”

“Just a few?” she teased. “Mayhap there are more pleasurable benefits I can reap.”

“Aye, certain physical ones.” He accepted more food from her fingertips.

Heat twisted low in her stomach. Well she remembered their night of passion. Her body burned for more of his touch. “You're still weak.”

He set aside the trencher. “Aye, but I am a man of great stamina.”

“You, sir, are not as invincible as you think.”

Regret clung to his face. “With the life I live, that is the only reason I have survived.”

She never considered that Malcolm might not have chosen his way of life. He seemed to have been destined for knighthood, with his body of legendary strength. He'd faced battles, criminals, war and slavery. How had the ten
derness in him endured through such hardships and horrors?

“Glad I am that you live, Malcolm.” She allowed him to roll her beneath him on the mattress. “I would never harm you.”

“You poisoned me once.”

“Aye, but you were a stranger to me. And a terrifying one.” She ducked as he rolled her gown over her head, leaving her naked before him.

His eyes darkened as his gaze raked over her bared breasts. “Do you poison all unfamiliar men you come across?”

“'Twould be the wisest way to deal with them. I never know when they will strip off my clothes and overpower me.”

“Like this?”

Her breath caught as his mouth descended upon one peaked nipple. “Aye, like that.”

“Then I approve of your manner of dealing with strangers.” His words flickered across skin made damp and sensitive by his demanding mouth. “You are mine and mine alone.”

A bright white pleasure speared through her as his mouth claimed her breasts. She felt tugging arcs of sensation and the stroking heat of his tongue. His fingers dove through curls and dampness to stroke the part of her that opened and ached for him. Sparks of heat bucked through her hips. She arched into his hand and was rewarded with more sharp pleasure.

She wanted to touch him. To know the feel of his beautiful hardness. But when her hands reached out to caress him, he moved away, disregarding her need to give him pleasure. His kiss trailed down the length of her belly, laving and nipping and sucking.

“You taste like flame.” His tongue laved lower still, touching her most vulnerable part. He kissed and caressed, his hands stroking her thighs, his mouth nuzzling heat and skin and that spot that made her toes curl and a moan tear from her throat.

“Malcolm, you torture me.” She clamped her teeth, her hands clenching around the hard columns of his arms.

“You can endure more.” His chuckle raked across heat and dew. His tongue did the same.

“I cannot. I swear it.”

But like breath against embers, the flame grew, building into a fire so great it ignited every part of her. She burned with a need that drew her up and into his arms.

His moan was pleasure against her mouth, and he forced her to her back with the hard sweet burden of his weight. His erection blazed against her thigh, iron hard. She was already open to him as he nudged apart her hot, swollen folds. She felt his back muscles bunch and ripple beneath her hands as he thrust into her.

She moaned at the way he stretched her and filled her. She wrapped her arms around his back and held tight as he pinned her to the mattress, thrusting hard and deep. A thrilling brightness built where they joined. Flare upon flare of luminous pleasure drove her up to meet him and twisted through her arching back.

He bucked ruthlessly in short, quick, unbearable thrusts. Like an explosion of flame and heat, release roared through her with a tight, throbbing radiance. Malcolm growled, pumping his hot seed deep inside her. Ripples shivered through those muscles stretched tight around him, and she cried out again, lost in pleasure.

“Aye, but you are sweetness.” His lips grazed hers, not with a branding strength but a tender affection.

Her heart twisted with a strong, pure love. It hurt so
much her eyes teared. She buried her face in his chest and held him tightly. Sobs racked her body, and she fought them.

“Did I hurt you, dove?” He brushed away tangled curls to press a gentle kiss upon her brow.

“Aye.” She burrowed into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

His arms enfolded her with a lover's care and he sighed. “I was rough with you.”

“Nay, it was not that.”

“Then how did I hurt you?”

“This tenderness.”

“Aye, love is a different kind of pain.” His kiss was soft like the brush of an angel's wing. “It is one that never stops hurting.”

Her chest ached, her whole heart so vulnerable she did not think she could endure a moment more. Tears came, and with it more of Malcolm's kisses. He made love to her again, their bodies joining in a conflagration of fire and emotion so great it tore down the last wall around her heart. Vulnerable and defenseless, she held him close as he loved her all over again.

 

“The healer confessed to being half sister to Rees the Great.” Edward signaled for wine. “She said that a man claiming to work with Rees had her youngest son taken hostage to force your death.” Edward took a chalice of wine from a tray.

Malcolm declined the wine. He paced to the window, where the gardens below shimmered a verdant green in the spring rains. “They are a threat to you, Edward.”

“And to you, friend. The gift of the barony has angered some, but I think that is not the whole story.”