Winning the Highlander's Heart (28 page)

“Malcolm,” she entreated.

“Aye, lass?”

“You are doing a verra good job, but you have created a new tension that aches something awful.”

Again she thought she heard him chuckle.  “Tell me where and I will aid you in getting rid of it.”

She hesitated.  “Nay, I was mistaken.  If you are almost done, I will give you a rub next.”

He worked lower on her legs down to her feet, but much more quickly this time.  Then he ran his hand over her back.  “I can help the ache between your legs, if you wish me, too.”

She knew his meaning then.  “We cannot make love.”

“There are other ways.”

She frowned.  “I have never heard of other ways.  The ladies newly married tell of what happens, but none of them said anything about other ways.”

“Mayhap their husbands do not rub their backs either.”

“Nay, you are right.  I do not remember any of them saying their husbands did that with them.  ‘Tis verra nice between a husband and wife.”  Though, she instantly felt guilty that they were truly not husband and wife.

“Aye, love.  Before you rub my back, did you want me to ease your other ache?”

Again, she hesitated.  “Would it take verra long?  I would not want to fall asleep before I give you a massage.”

He grinned at her.  “Roll over, Anice, and let me rub away the ache.”

“Can I be covered up?”

“It will be harder to see what I’m doing, but if it pleases ye, aye, lass.”

“It does, Malcolm.”

She rolled onto her back, but before he pulled the blanket over her, he touched her breast.

“That is not where the ache is,” she objected.

He tried to contain a grin, but failed, then circled the tip of her breast with his finger, leaned over and licked it.  “Aye, lass.  I will get to it.”

His touch sent burning heat streaking through her.

Moaning out loud, she touched his hair, dangling against her skin, tickling it.  “You are making the ache worse, no’ better, Malcolm.”

He took the bud of her breast in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, forcing a groan of ecstasy from her lips.

His hand moved down and touched her between her legs.  ‘Twas nothing like she’d ever experienced before, and the pleasure and pain of it wasn’t like his removing the tension from her muscles.  “I think you were wrong,” she breathed out between strokes.

“What is that, lass?” he asked.  He shifted his leg between hers and leaned over to caress the other nipple.

“You are making it worse.”

“Takes a little time, but it will get better.”

She dug her nails into his shoulders when his fingers dipped deep inside her, and then once moistened, he slid them out and stroked her nub with renewed enthusiasm.  Arching her back, she wanted to feel more and at the same time wanted him to stop before he drove her to madness.

He rubbed his shaft against her, and it was throbbing as much as she was.  It would be so easy to relieve both their aches by allowing him to make love to her.  That’s what he wanted.  Why couldn’t she allow him to bed her after all he had done for her?

Because she didn’t want to anger the king and bind Malcolm to her, that’s why.  He would be free to marry any lady he wanted.  He only wanted her like any man would who lay naked with her.  She had no doubt even a man as old as her first betrothed would have wanted her if she’d given herself to him willingly.

She gripped Malcolm’s shoulders tighter and moaned with delight when he pulled her into the sea where waves of heat washed through her and the ache was replaced with a new throbbing, but one of satisfaction.  He inserted his fingers into her again and penetrated deeply.

“Has the ache lessened, love?” he whispered against her breast.

“Aye.”

“Would you consider letting me love you?”

“You would be bound to me, Malcolm.  I cannot permit it.”

“I wish to be bound to ye, forever, Anice.”  He reached up and held her face.  “What are you thinking, love?  Do you no’ believe me when I say I want you for my very own?”

“You feel obligated.  You are a braw and dutiful Highlander.  But I cannot force this on ye.”

His brow furrowed.  “You are forcing naught on me.  I wish this marriage more than anything.”

“You have never wanted anyone but an English bride.”

“I was mistaken, love.  Ye are the one I want.”

“Any man would say that about a woman who is laying naked under him on a bed of straw.”

Malcolm’s eyes instantly grew stormy, and he shook his head, his face hard.  “There is nay making you believe me.  I should have known you did not want me.  For whatever reason—and you have withheld the truth from me before—you believe I am not good enough for ye.”

He rose from the bed and tossed the blanket to her.  “I will sleep with my brothers tonight like I have done for many a night in the past, before I sleep with a woman who thinks I would ravage her just because she is naked.”

He threw on his clothes as quickly as humanly possible, then stormed out the door.

She was so shocked at his actions, she didn’t know how to rectify the situation.  Mortified she’d not only hurt his pride, but would cause him further embarrassment when the rest of the staff discovered her husband favored sleeping with her brothers to her.

Damnation.
  She was the one who’d be unable to face the courtiers in the morning.

She grabbed her clothes, dressed with the most difficulty, then pulled the monk’s robe over that.  No one would touch her, being she was a man of the cloth.  She had no need of traveling with Malcolm and his brothers.  Best they leave things as they were.

Seizing the lighted candle, she hastened through the kitchen, then outside into the kitchen garden.  The fragrance of lavender stirred on the chilly breeze.  After stalking between rows of herbs, she ended up in an expansive area where buckets of soapy water waited for the washerwomen the next day, and the blacksmith’s anvil sat ready for the strike of his hammer.

All was quiet except for men-at-arms who walked their posts on guard duty along the castle walls.  They watched beyond the castle grounds for signs of trouble and not toward the inner bailey.  Still, how could she convince the gate guard to let her leave?

Mayhap being she was a monk, he’d feel obligated.  If that didn’t work—she jingled her coin in her purse.  A little money might do the trick.

She hurried into the stable and searched for her horse.  He whinnied softly as she reached her hand out to his gray muzzle.  “Come on, Mystic, time to take a little walk again.”

The notion of riding one more hour didn’t appeal and traveling alone without companionship would be lonely.  Better than dealing with an angry, almost husband.

Thank God she’d been a willful child and had left home on her own more than once.  She fumbled with her saddle though, not from not knowing how to affix it to her horse, but from the worry she would soon be caught.  The sky was still dark, but she couldn’t see any stars and she assumed stormy clouds still stalked them.

Once she saddled Mystic, she climbed onto a bale of hay, slipped her leg over the horse and rode out of the stable.  The chill in the air and the worry she would not be allowed to leave sent shivers hurtling through her.

She walked Mystic toward the gatehouse where the portcullis had been shut for the eve.  Several on watch turned their attention to the bailey to see who would ride out before any had arisen.

One of them hurried for the stairs.  ‘Twas not a good sign.  Her skin prickled and she straightened her back.

The gate guard was nowhere in sight, but when she neared the gatehouse, he lumbered out, his mouth turned down into a scowl and his bushy black brows furrowed.  “You cannot be leaving at this time of morn, Brother.  The bell won’t ring for another three hours to wake the staff.”

“’Tis the will of God.”  Anice spoke as low and commanding as she could manage.

The knight from the wall walk, who’d run down the stairs when he’d spied her, stalked toward her.  “Remove your hood.”

“You would not talk to a man of God like that,” Anice said, her voice as harsh and manly as she could make it.  Though it sounded fine to her ears, she worried it sounded too high-pitched to the men.

“We have no Scottish monks here, and the only ones I know of who are Scots born, are the Lady Anice and her escort.  Now being you are not as big as any of the men, I assume you are the wee lad they brought with them...but that would not be right either as he is not Scottish.  Which leads me to believe you are the lady herself.”

Wee lad
?  She was much taller than the boy.

“Milady, is it ye?  His Earl Lord would have my head if I let you out without an escort.  What could you be thinking, milady?” the gate guard asked.

“Come,” the knight said, “I will take you back to the keep and return your horse to the stable.”

“Let go of my horse!” she snapped, irritated that some knight would tell her what to do.  She faced the gate guard.  “Open the gate.  You have nay right keeping me here against my will.”

“Lady MacNeill,” the knight said again, “you will come with me, or—”

She whipped out her bow and before any realized what she was doing, she notched an arrow.  “Open the gate before I get angry.”

 “Kill me if you must.”  The guard folded his arms in obstinacy.  “His Earl Lord would give me a more painful death if I should let you go.”

The knight stormed off toward the keep.

She cursed inwardly.  Then she figured now that the knight was gone, she could bribe the gate guard.  She lifted the bag of money from beneath her monk’s robe.  “How much would it take my good man?”

“No amount of money, milady.  His Earl Lord would know you bribed me to get me to open the gate.  You can put your money away.  You are not getting by me this morn.”

The sound of several men running toward them forced a chill up her spine.  Not because she was afraid, but because she was furious not to get her way.  She retied her money pouch to her belt.

She wished not to travel with a man who got mad at her when she spoke the truth.  Heavens knows if she stripped off her clothes in front of the gate guard, he wouldn’t hesitate to ravage her.  Or the knight who’d been on watch or any man.  The point of the matter was Malcolm was like any other man.  They couldn’t help themselves when it came to wanting a woman who was naked and willing.  It didn’t mean he wanted her forever.  Once he had a chance to have a good English woman, he’d regret he’d lain with the Scottish wench.

“Last chance,” she threatened, renotching her arrow.

“Take your best shot, milady.”

“Anice!” Malcolm shouted as he ran toward her.

“Tell him to open the gate.  My horse needs a ride,” she shouted over her shoulder, but kept one eye on the guard lest he duck.

“Quit this foolishness!”

Her cheeks flamed.  Who was foolish?  The man who left her bed, or she who wanted to return to her castle as quickly as possible to right the wrongs there?

“Can you truly use that bow?” he asked as he reached her flank.

She glowered at him.  “Were you no’ listening to my tale earlier?”