The Husband Hunt (27 page)

B
y the time Knight located another boat,
having practically promised everything in repayment except his firstborn child to the fisherman who owned it, the wind had disappeared, and an eerie stillness had befallen the loch. He dragged the boat up onto the islet just as a man, face dark above a lace neckcloth, burst out of the overgrowth.

"Where is she?" Knight broke through the rushes to grab Lamont by the throat. "I asked you where my wife is."

Lamont's face paled as Knight propelled him backward over a scattering of boulders into the trees. "Oh, stop," he said, struggling to free himself. "This dramatic coming to the damsel's rescue just isn't the thing. Besides, you're too late. The deed has been done."

Knight's heart stopped for several seconds. "What do   you   mean?"   He   tightened   his   hands  around Lamont's neckcloth, forcing him back into the trees. "What have you done to her?"

"What makes you think I've done anything at all? I was only trying to protect her powers." His mouth twisted into a scornful smile. "You're the one to blame, my fine English lord. You're the one who has turned my wildling playmate into a wife." The last word was pronounced with such a sniff of disdain that Knight found it difficult to believe any violence had been committed.

He gave Lamont a fierce shake. "You didn't hurt her?"

"I only wanted the stone," Lamont said bitterly. "Let me go."

"If you're lying, I'm going to tear you apart and feed you to your damn birds."

"I said I didn't touch her!"

"Then where—"

"Kni-i-i-ght!" Catriona's voice, sounding startlingly cheerful, called to him across the loch. Astonished, Knight turned. He saw her waving at him from the little boat as her uncle plied the oars, cautioning her to sit before she fell and gave them both a good soaking.

"Would somebody care to explain to me exactly what has happened?" he demanded loudly, turning back to the tree only to find that his captor had vanished.

As had the boat which Knight had mortgaged his soul to obtain. Lamont was rowing for his life across the loch, a flock of crows flying in a raucous formation above him.

Cupping her hands to her mouth, Catriona shouted from her receding boat. "Kni-i-i-ght! What are you doing over there? I thought you were shooting with James. Don't tell me you swam across the loch."

He put his hands on his hips. "I'm not telling you anything," he shouted back, "except that somebody had better get me off this islet."

Catriona's shouts were getting weaker. "Murdo said that he'll come back to get you after he puts himself to shore! The boat isn't big enough for you." She hesitated, barely audible now across the water of the loch. "Actually, it is, but he's still a little upset at you for eloping with me."

A few people had gathered on the opposite shore: James, Thomas, the fisherman whose boat had disappeared. There was no sign of Lamont now; Knight decided that the coward had probably rowed to the hill directly behind the holy well and made his escape. The crows were a black blur in the sky.

His wife, at least, appeared safe, even if a body of water separated them—well, only for the few moments. From the distance, it seemed that Catriona was explaining what had happened to her brother, who broke into hoots of laughter, slapping his thigh and pointing to his stranded brother-in-law in great amusement. Then Catriona motioned Murdo out of the boat and took his place at the thwarts. She was grinning as she rowed up into the rushes, grinning and shaking her head as if to ask herself how such a powerful man could have gotten himself into this predicament.

The powerful man climbed into the boat and took the oars from her hands. He rowed with clean, strong strokes that propelled them across the loch in moments. No woman was going to rescue him in front of witnesses.

"Knight." She was chuckling in delight. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

"What do you think?" he said indignantly as they bumped up onto the opposite shore. "I came to rescue you."

"To rescue me?"

"Yes. James and I noticed the crows flying to the loch and realized that something was wrong. When I reached the shore, I saw Lamont in the act of running away. I assumed this was because he had committed some heinous crime upon your person."

"I see."

"Do you? I doubt it. I grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back against a tree. Unspeakable thoughts about what had happened to you filled my head. I was ready to kill him. And then I heard your voice. I turned and saw you calling to me from the middle of the loch as if I were some sort of idiot Robinson Crusoe who had been cast away."

She smoothed her skirt over her knees. "But you had lost your boat."

"No, I hadn't. Lamont took the opportunity to steal it while I turned around to look at my wife, whom I believed he had probably just murdered, or perhaps worse."

Her eyes widened. "What could be worse than being murdered?"

He shook his head. "You do not want to know. I was a soldier. Believe me, you shouldn't ask."

"All right." Her eyes twinkled with irrepressible mirth. "I won't ask."

He stared at her. "After all that, you aren't even going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

He leaned into her. There were a few more people on the shore now, servants who had been summoned from the castle, in the event that serious help was needed to rescue the earl's sister, who had gone and married a Sassenach viscount who had gone and gotten himself stranded at the holy well.

"Was the Sassenach lord seeking a cure?" someone wondered aloud. "Was he sick?"

"Aye," another answered, "sick in the—"

Knight flashed them a look of annoyance, wondering which of his various body parts they assumed was in need of restoration.

"'Twasn't the headache cure," a maidservant said, as if he were incapable of hearing, along with his other deficits, "Twas
a family
matter.
Private,
if ye ken what f mean."

"Oh, aye. Ye'd never guess to look at him, though."

"Shame, that. A man his size needin' help to do the manly deed."

Knight lowered his voice. "Do you hear that?" he asked his amused young wife. "They think I was so desperate to perform my male duties that I got myself stranded on this damn loch in search of a cure."

She gave him a winsome smile. "But we both know how untrue that is."

"Do not muddle the issue, madam. Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Lamont or not?"

"Oh, that." She frowned. "Well, he wanted me to give him the stone instead of returning it to the well. He threatened every manner of vile misfortune if I did not comply."

"Which you did."

"I did not!"

He sighed. "Of course you didn't."

"Do you think I'd let a numbskull like Lamont intimidate me?" she asked indignantly.

He studied her in silence, then said, "I thought he terrified you. I thought he inflicted all manner of indignities upon your person when you were a girl."

She hesitated. "I might have exaggerated."

"Do you mean that I almost throttled a man for nothing?"

She sat back, looking a little sheepish. "Well, he did try to trick me into giving him that stone."

"I'd have given him the bloody thing, the whole bucket of them, if he asked me."

She looked stricken. "And doomed our children to the curse I have carried all my life?"

He didn't move, startled by this emotional side of his wife. "What children?" he asked in bewilderment.

James tapped on his shoulder. Knight had completely forgotten that the boat was surrounded by a curious crowd of onlookers. "I think my sister might be trying to tell you something, Knight."

Knight glanced at her, his stern face softening. "Are you—"

She nodded, then whispered, "I think so. Well, I'll be certain in another week."

He leaned forward and drew her into his lap, a catch in his voice. "Oh, Catriona. You must be more careful. Look how wet you are, and riding over all those hills."

James reached down to help her out of the boat. "We should put her straight to bed."

"I am not going to bed," she said.

Knight followed her out of the boat, removing her damp cloak to replace it with his coat. "Come back to the castle and put your feet up."

"I am not putting my feet up."

James frowned at her. "Do as your husband says, Catriona."

"Now, that would be a miracle for the holy well," Murdo said from the edge of the small gathering.

"Come, Catriona." Knight held out his hand to her, studying her in pleasure. "Do you really think it's true?"

She smiled and took his hand, nodding happily.

"I hope that it is true," he said under his breath.

Her fingertips began to tingle, but not from any sense of foreboding. She felt her entire being bubble with profound joy.

"I do, too," she said.

She gave a deep sigh of pleasure as his hand curled around her kneecap, kneading gently at her tender muscles. "Umm. No, not there. It tickles like the devil. Do my feet again."

He leaned over and took her mouth in a deep, deep kiss, until her sighs evolved into little groans of encouragement and her hands came around his shoulders, pulling him lower. They had been trying, unsuccessfully, to dress for almost an hour. "I like you naked, wife," he whispered, bringing his mouth to her soft, full breasts.

She grabbed his shirt at the shoulders and pulled him to her. "I like you naked, too."

He laughed. "You're going to tear the buttons."

"Do you care?" she asked mischievously.

"Not particularly," he said with a devilish smile, sliding his mouth down her belly. "But your brother might not enjoy eating dinner with a man whose shirt is hanging in shreds from his neck."

"Where are your other clothes?"

"Being laundered, I did not bring that many belongings."

"Neither did I." She attempted to sit up, staring at her perfectly flat abdomen. "Oh! All your money wasted on those nice clothes, and I'm going to swell up like a stuffed goose."

He laid his palm down lightly on her belly. "Not for a few more months."

She placed her hand over his, and for several moments they sat in silent wonder, unable to imagine how this unseen being, this speck of life, would change their entire world. Then Knight nudged her back down onto the bed and began to kiss her, his large hand drifting between her legs. Their mouths still touching, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He took off his trousers, his penis already stiff.

She was so wet that all he could think about was burying himself inside her and pounding her to the bed. But she was very possibly pregnant, and some part of his brain subdued that primitive male instinct up until the moment she took his shaft in her hands and opened her legs, guiding him without shyness.

"Now."

He straddled her thighs. "I don't need an engraved invitation."

"I didn't think so," she said, moaning as she gripped his lean buttocks to urge him inside her.

"God." He closed his eyes as he sank into her slick heat, praying for control, until, lost in pleasure, he forgot to pray at all.

She lifted her hips to meet his deep thrusts, running her hands up and down the muscular ridges of his back. She loved the animal power of his body. She loved her wicked husband with all her heart.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered roughly.

"No." She pushed up on her elbows to kiss his firm mouth, her muscles tightening around him. "No. Give me more."

They kissed until neither of them could breathe, and the rhythmic pumping of his body into hers reached a peak. She felt him thrust upward one last time, and the muscles of his upper torso glistened with sweat; uncontrollable shivers of excitement raced through her. A few moments later, he groaned and flooded her with his seed, his powerful forearms bracketing her on the bed.

They lay entangled in hot, pulsing silence until voices from below roused them. The musk of their love-making scented the air. He traced the delicate curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. "I think we have just been summoned for supper. Are you hungry?"

"Famished. Knight?"

He reached lazily for the shirt she had practically torn from his shoulders. "What?"

"Thank you for helping James. I know you offered to pay off his debts while you were shooting together."

Their eyes met, his smoky dark with sensuality. For a dangerous moment, Knight did not think he had the willpower to leave the room. "Put on your clothes," he said hoarsely.

She pulled her chemise over her head, shivering as his hands took over the task. For the rest of her life, she would crave his magic touch. "Did you know that Uncle Murdo and I have made amends? It's true. I'm happy, and yet I'm wondering how returning the Earth stone will change my life. What if the visions don't go away?

"We'll buy a gypsy wagon and wander from town to town, selling fortunes. Aunt Marigold can dance with a tambourine around the campfire."

"And Uncle Murdo can play the fiddle for her."

"Olivia and Wendell could throw knives at each other," he said.

"What about James?" she whispered. "Do you think that he will ever stop drinking? Do you think finding his daughter will change him?"

"I don't know," he said, rising from the bed to hunt for his trousers. "I've seen men go either way when they are given a second chance. In the end, it will depend on how much strength he can summon. But work is a good thing. It will occupy his mind, and perhaps, over time, he can find happiness again." He hesitated, his brow arching. "Why do you have that wicked smile on your face?"

"It's you."

He narrowed his eyes at his seductive young wife. "What about me?"

"You don't look half so intimidating delivering advice when you are wearing only your shirt." Her gaze wandered down his well-muscled torso. "It's quite an impressive sight, nonetheless."

Olivia was busy penning anonymous notes to the newspapers about her brother's wedding. The candlelight caught the dark glints in her hair as she bent over the desk, reading: "'… a romantic affair in a Scottish castle with the Earl of Roxshire's sister. The bride wore a gown of Honiton lace and seed pearls created by Madame Malraux, formerly of Paris."