Risk Everything (29 page)

Uncertainty? Determination? Despair?

Was that guilt that flashed in his eyes, then quickly changed to anger? What hidden reflections roused it?

Soon they arrived at Rimsdale, and Rolf vaulted from Luath
.

“Dinna move.”

To her mind, his tone was too demanding. “To hell with ye.” Flinging her leg up and over Storm’s head, she slid off him as Rolf reached her. Cold and silent, he grasped her wrist and hauled her into the castle.

Heat and tension radiated from him, feeding her own dis-temper. She did not believe Rimsdale was blameless for

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Blackthorn’s forays. Damron was too honest and loyal a man to do aught that would cause her dismay. If ’twas true that he ordered the missing men taken, then he had good reason.

Rolf slammed the solar door and turned to her all in one swift movement.

“Never call me vile names again.” So loud did he shout the words that their force fairly shook the bed hangings. He paced in agitation, putting distance between them. “Had you not been ill afore, you would now wear my hand’s print on your arse.”

“If ever ye try to leave yer
print
on my arse, ye will find a brazier across yer thick skull,” she shouted back.

“Dinna tempt me. Ill or not, I will take no more from you.”

“Ha. And why not? Ye have taken all else from me. Ye took my dirk, my right to defend myself.” Her gaze shot daggers at him.

“With good cause.” His fist thumped the table beside him.

“You tried to wield it against me.”

“Aye. And had
I
not good cause?” Disgust radiated from her. “Ye deny me the right to fly Simple in the hunt, my right to ride Storm where I will. Ye refuse me the clothin’ I favor and hamper me with skirts about my legs.” She jerked off the rose tunic she had worn to please him and tossed it to the floor. The temptation almost overwhelmed her to stomp on it like a bad-tempered bairn.

“Dinna dare.” His eyes narrowed to hot, silver slits.

“Hmpf!” She picked up her right foot and stamped on the edge of the tunic.

“Pick it up!” The words barely escaped his clenched teeth.

She brought her left foot over and slammed it down beside her other. Heaven help her! This dominating man called out her worst impulses. She could not believe she had done such a childish thing, but she could not back down.

Ever since he had captured her in the forest, he had com-pelled her to his will. Day by day, as he tried to force her into the role of a foolish, servile woman, he stripped her of her identity, her pride. She
wouldna
have it.

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Planting her hands on her hips, she glared defiance at him.

“Meghan!”

She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin in stubborn determination.

With a savage growl, he lunged for her. Quick as a hare fleeing a falcon, she slipped sideways from his grasping hands. He lunged again. She spun away and sprinted to the other side of the room. He near trod on her heels.

She somersaulted over the bed, putting it between them.

His lips drew back in a wicked smile.

“ ’Tis a bedding you wish, Meghan?” His voice purred as he stalked her to the foot of the bed, just out of reach.

He inched his heavy belt through the pewter clasp. When it was free, his tartan slipped to the floor with a whisper of sound. While he coiled the leather belt around his hand, he watched her every twitch.

Never had he known a woman with such strong will.

Though her breathing quickened, no fear flashed in her eyes.

Not even Alpin would dare defy him so when he was angered.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing blood.

By the saints, the woman had to be daft. She couldna know he blustered with the belt. Never would he strike her with it.

She leapt to the edge of the bed. He launched himself at her like a giant cat, and they landed together in the middle of the featherbed with Meghan on her stomach beneath him.

Where she belonged.

“Since you are so anxious to rid yourself of clothin’, I will gladly aid you.”

She fought like a maddened, hissing cat, trying to twist in his arms to claw him. He raised up enough to allow her to breathe but kept a hand on her back so she could not wrestle free. Ridding himself of the belt, he grasped the hem of her smock and tugged.

“Dinna dare, ye rutting boar.”

“Dare? Oh, I dare, Meghan. You are mine. My possession.”

He grunted with the effort to control her as he burrowed an arm under her waist and lifted her enough to pull the smock free.

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She bucked so violently it caught him by surprise and near toppled him, reminding him of a time years past when she had interrupted his tryst with Connor’s favorite dairy maid.

She had come upon them in the stable and whacked his heav-ing arse with a stout branch.

He had chased her down, ready to thrash her. When he lunged and grabbed her around her waist, they had tumbled to the ground. Though she had been all gangly arms and legs then, her form as yet lacking the soft curves to entice a man, for the first time, the power of her scent had overwhelmed him. It had taken him by surprise to feel a stirring of lust for her.

That same lass could now entice him with but a fleeting glance, the echo of her laughter across a room or her teasing scent when she walked past. All his anger at her challenging him afore his men dissolved.

“Lout, get off me.” Meghan tried to twist to her side.

He did not let her. “Um, Meghan mine,” he whispered. “ ’Tis a game I like well, this cat-and-mouse chase, but I wish for a gentler coupling,” he purred in her ear. When she started to surge forward, he nuzzled her neck and gently mouthed her shoulder for several heartbeats, much as a stallion stills a mare.

“Shh, love. Quiet.” He had no need to hold her still now as he aroused her passion. He made gentle love to her, and in the doing, his body strove to show her all the tender emotions he could not allow himself to speak of. When she shivered, he kissed and lapped her flesh, caressed his way down every inch of her velvety body, and stopped only to whisper how much he had always needed her, how only she could call forth every emotion ’twas possible for a man to feel.

Slowly, his hands feathered over the velvety flesh of her supple hips, her quivering thighs, then reached between them to caress her hot flesh. He murmured with satisfaction, feeling the slippery opening there. His eager tarse nudged, then entered. He caressed her, enjoying the feel of his slick tarse as it entered and retreated. ’Twas a contact that never failed to heighten her pleasure.

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Heat radiated from her body, much as if she had risen from a hot bath. He felt her tension build, and she began to quiver.

He rubbed her pleasure spot and sent her into an explosive frenzy.

They fought each other as they climaxed. Pillows and sheets fell to the floor. By the time her body wrested the last drop of his seed from him, she was half off the bed.

He gathered her close in his arms, kissed her forehead, and murmured against her neck. “Meghan mine, why do you fight me from sunup till sundown on every issue? Yield to me in other things as you do in this.”

“Never will I be as other women. Ye know it well. I will accept no man as
master
o’er me. ’Twould take the very pride from my soul.”

The quiet resolve in her husky voice stabbed wider the rent in the vengeance that surrounded his heart. His soul ached with love and anguish, knowing how much pride he had already stripped from her without her knowing.

Meghan walked about the battlements, stealing glances at the sky. She came to an open embrasure between merlons where she was far enough from the lookouts that they would not see her. Cloud Dancer circled and waited. She wrapped the edge of her cloak around her left arm and braced her hand on the warm stone of the merlons, anticipating the eagle’s weight.

Cloud Dancer glided ever lower, floating on the wind as if he hunted for his prey. When he had drifted to the right height, he swooped down.

Meghan did not flinch, for she knew he would not hurt her.

“Ho, Cloud Dancer. What a beautiful sight ye are to my eyes,” she cooed to him as he landed on her braced arm. He ducked his head and allowed her to run her hand over the glistening white feathers of his head, down his shiny, brown-feathered back and down his leg to the parchment tied there

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as he shifted onto the stone merlon. She wasted not a breath of time to untie it and read the words there.

If you have caught a male chauvinist pig and wish to
throw him back, join the birds in your nest.

Lusty laughter escaped her. Unfortunately, the eagle had not gone unnoticed. People shouted below, and footsteps pounded up the stairway to the walkway. She quickly tied the message to his opposite leg and coaxed him back to her wrist.

“Hurry, now. Away with ye afore they think ye meant me harm,” she urged and lifted her arm to send him on his way.

The eagle was still within an arrow’s range when she heard racing footsteps behind her. She whirled around.

“Nay, Jamie!”

She struck his arm at the same time he released the arrow, sending it wild. Cloud Dancer called as if to assure her he was safe. Arrows flew from other directions, only to reach their peak and drop to the ground.

“Lucifer’s fiery eyes, Meghan! I thought to see that great winged bird tear your throat. Are you hurt?” Rolf ’s frantic gaze searched over her, his face devoid of his usual healthy color. “What caused him to attack and then leave you un-scathed?” His body shook as he hugged her tight.

“He was but curious. Mayhap he thought me a great mag-pie with my black cape?” She pulled back in his arms.

“When I caught sight of you, he had your arm in his talons,” Jamie said, his look suspicious.

“Aye.” Several others nodded their agreement.

A superstitious lot, the men’s eyes were wide, their look wary. She could not let them think it so unusual, else they would deem her a witch.

“Mayhap his eyesight is poor. He must have thought me a bird worthy of his attentions.” Their eyes widened, looking like spilled eggs, and caused her to chuckle. “Then he saw I was a strange creature that lacked wings. I disappointed him

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so much, he flew away.” Rolf ’s searching gaze narrowed. He would not fall for such a tale.

“Go about your duties,” he said to all in sight. To her he had one word. “Come.”

He halted midway down the spiral stairwell. Placing a hand on either side of her head, he stared at her and waited.

“What?”

He wanted answers she did not want to give.

“You well know what. Dinna think to give me that pap you fed my men.”

“Always have I had a way with beasts and birds. Ye know it well.”

“Aye. But that raptor was not Simple. Someone has trained the eagle, and it was not you.” His jaw firmed in a hard line.

“Why do ye question it? Because Simple is so foolish? I doubt even the great Rolf could train my wee hapless bird.

Sparrowhawks are noted for being gowks.”

“Tell me of the eagle, Meghan.”

“I canna be sure, but I think he is the same one that oft comes to Blackthorn. Our head falconer Simon treats him as one of his own charges and throws treats high for him to capture.” She saw he was not satisfied with that. “I was forever around the mews helping Brianna and Netta learn the art of falconry. Perchance he remembered me.”

“Aye, that could be.” His body relaxed, and he drew back to fix her with stern eyes. “Mayhap I should warn the men to keep watch and bring him down.”

“Nay! Dinna harm him. I will never forgive ye if anythin’

happens to that noble bird.” She grasped his shirt and tugged on it. “Please, Rolf. Let him be.”

“It means so much to you?” He frowned as he studied her.

“Promise me you willna do anythin’ foolish with the eagle again.”

“Aye. I willna,” she promised easily. ’Twas no lie, for she knew being with Cloud Dancer was never foolish.

Rolf nodded, satisfied, and turned to clatter down the steps.

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Leaning against the cool stones of the wall, she listened as his footsteps faded in the distance.

She covered her mouth as a gurgle of laughter threatened to erupt. Brianna had written the missive, for ’twas in her hand. The
male chauvinist pig
was as good as her signature, for no one else heard of it until Damron brought her to Blackthorn.

When first the two met, they had many robust arguments over her strange use of words. He had thought she referred to a “shovingist” pig and demand she explain, for he had never seen the animal act in such a way. So, that part of the message told her if Rolf became too domineering or caused her unhappiness, she had but to leave. Someone would watch for her.

Join the birds in your nest
. Nest? Ah, in a tree, of course!

They well knew her liking for climbing trees. Guardian must have led them to the tree where Rolf found her sleeping. Her belt would have left its marks around the bark.

Calm spread its warm mantle over her. Were she to become unduly distressed, she had a way to escape.

Rolf had no doubt about his disappearing men. What puzzled him was why Damron of Blackthorn had neither demanded ransoms nor slain them.

If a skirmish ensued during the laird’s forays into Rimsdale lands, the wounds inflicted were not life threatening but done solely to take that man out of the fighting. Did Damron know the truth of it all, no doubt he would not be so courtly.

When he stepped out into the bailey, he spotted his cousin at the laundry room door. “Ede, I would speak with you.” He led her beneath a shady tree where they could talk in privacy.

“This morn, Meghan sickened at the sight of blood,” he started, but stopped when Ede rolled her eyes at him.

“Mayhap not so much the sight of blood as being the cause of it?” Ede nodded to where Alpin worked with Dougald. “He told me how she defended him. Hmf! Most women would