DevilsHeart (9 page)

He raked his teeth down her neck. Shaking with need, her
body melted against him as she surrendered to the liquid fire deep within her
abdomen. With one sharp inhalation, he pounded into her with maddening speed,
wrenching new vibrations from her core. She clutched his back as fast, furious
waves of pleasure rushed through her, coiling and undulating until the hot,
moist spasm she craved was released. She tightened around him, sucking and
drawing his shaft deeper inside as her thighs vibrated against his hips.

And then he stilled, plastering his chest against hers,
sinking his teeth into neck. His cock throbbed within her, filling her with his
hot seed.

She pressed her cheek against his, her chest heaving with
short, choppy breaths. Her flesh stung where he bit her neck and, as if he sensed
it, he placed a soft kiss upon the spot. His lips moved down her throat,
sending goose bumps scuttling across her flesh.

She parted her lips to speak, wanting to whisper something
clever or sexy, but nothing came out. She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes
falling closed. The luscious fullness of his still-erect cock embedded deep
inside her drew a sigh from her lips.

He eased out of her and guided her feet to the ground. His
dark hair fell in front of his face as he smoothed her skirts back down her
legs and then tucked himself back into his breeches before securing them around
his waist.

From out of nowhere, an unwelcome thread of shame wormed its
way into her. She pushed away from the tree and turned her back on him as she
pretended to pat wrinkles out of her dress. How could she have let this happen
again? It was over between them. Just one night and they’d never see one
another again, right? That was how one-night stands were supposed to work. It
wasn’t as if she was in love with the guy.

But hadn’t he said it wouldn’t be their last time, even
though she was slated to be married that night? She shook her head, biting her
lower lip. Even if worse came to worst and she was saddled with a husband in a
few hours, it wouldn’t be right to continue seeing Rathe.

A moist warmth trickled down her inner thigh and she paused,
her eyes shifting back and forth until she realized what it was.

Shit.

“Here, lass.” Rathe handed her the basket she had been
carrying earlier. “Now, do I have to bind your hands together or will you come
peacefully with me?”

Torn from her thoughts, she grabbed the handle. “What?”

He stepped in front of her, tilting her chin up with one
finger. “If you leave the choice to me, I would bind you. I find the idea
rather appealing.”

Snapped back to attention, she caught the bad-boy smirk
plastered to his face. She parted her lips to speak but once again couldn’t
form a single word in retort.

He chuckled and rubbed his thumb over the spot where he had
bitten her. “Another time, perhaps,” he murmured. He pulled the collar of her
leine against her neck. “You may want to keep that hidden for a bit.” Then,
grabbing her hand, he led her back toward the road.

Her blood thudded in her temples as she struggled to keep up
Rathe’s quick pace. The full, moist heaviness between her thighs consumed
her—he hadn’t pulled out this time. Several times she tried to ask him about
it, but her brain refused to send the words to her mouth.

But then a break in the trees appeared up ahead. Several men
milled about, talking and laughing as their horses grazed along the side of the
road. She would soon lose her chance to ask Rathe unless she took advantage of
the opportunity now.

In panicked desperation, Leah dug her heels into the ground,
yanking him to a stop. He turned toward her, his eyebrows raised.

She glanced at him before casting her eyes to the ground and
moving closer to him. “You didn’t pull out this time.”

He paused before uttering his matter-of-fact reply. “You are
right. I did not.”

Without another word, Rathe set forward once again, dragging
her behind him, and they broke through the trees.

“You could have been killed.”

Leah pressed her lips together. She bristled at the
mormaer’s annoyed tone and crossed her arms as she peered out the window. Rathe
strode across the courtyard to speak to the group of men he’d brought with him
to find her earlier. As he spoke, they gave him their full and attention,
listening without interruption.

She had cringed when Rathe dragged her out of the forest and
in front of them, assuming they were well aware of what had just happened
between her and Rathe. But not one of the men threw her a critical look. Though
she still couldn’t understand most of what they were saying, they only spoke in
the most respectful tones to Rathe and were careful to avert their eyes from
her.

Rathe glanced up toward her, one corner of his mouth turning
up in acknowledgment as he continued speaking with his men. This time she
didn’t shrink back from the window but instead returned his smile with a small
one of her own.

“Leah.”

She turned just as Alpina approached her with a cup. “Here,
my dear, this will relax you.”

The scent of whisky wafted up to Leah’s nose as she accepted
the cup. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she needed was
more whisky after what that stuff had encouraged her to do last night.

“I told you it was not possible to go home,” the mormaer
stated, his brow furrowed in disappointment as he stared at her.

Ah, the hell with it.

She lifted the cup to her lips. She swallowed a small sip of
the heady, fiery liquid, and it burned down her throat. “You have not given me
a good explanation for why. I keep asking and you keep refusing.”

She set the cup upon the table near the bed. If only Mary
and Alpina weren’t in the room, then maybe she could get to the bottom of what
David knew. She didn’t always agree with his high-handed dictates, but she was
in full agreement with him about never revealing how she’d arrived here in this
world. She was already stuck in a medieval nightmare and she didn’t need
accusations of black magic hurled at her.

David nodded. “It matters not. Other men would publicly flog
you for such flagrant disobedience to your overlord, but I will keep this
little rebellious display quiet as long as you promise to behave.”

Leah backed up until her shoulders hit the stone wall, the
blood draining from her face. He’d never threatened her before. He’d been firm
and vague but never alarming. What if she didn’t behave? What if she tried to
leave again and was caught? Would David actually consider flogging her?

This wasn’t a medieval nightmare. It was hell.

David clasped his hands behind his back as he approached
her. Lifting his chin, he stared down his long straight nose at her. “I daresay
your husband will thank me for this. You will not be running from him either,
you hear me? I will come after you myself, if I have to.”

Nausea settled into Leah’s stomach. She resisted the urge to
slide down to the floor in utter defeat and instead stared past David’s shoulder,
dumbfounded. Why did she have to end up here? Of all the time periods in
history, why the thirteenth century? Why not the Victorian or Edwardian era?
Sure, maybe women still didn’t have the right to vote, but at least most didn’t
consider public flogging of a woman an appropriate punishment for trying to
assert some independence. Social ostracization, maybe. But not violence.

Alpina appeared at her side, slipping a supportive arm
around her waist. “There, there, my dear. It is all for the best. You will
see.”

“Of course now I cannot possibly give you to the Dunlop,”
David stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You have proved to be much
less docile than I thought. He could not handle you.”

Docile?
Leah almost snorted. When had she ever been
not docile? If her mother was in one of her dictatorial moods, Leah did
everything she was told without question. When her sister was demanding, Leah
always gave in to whatever she wanted. When Simon wanted one thing and Leah
wanted another, she always acquiesced to him. She’d never been anything but
docile.

Except here in the thirteenth century. Here she was
considered rebellious. An oddball. A well-educated woman who had grown up
without any sense she was somehow inferior to a man. She could converse with
the mormaer and anyone else on any of a number of subjects and hold her own.
And, worst of all, she had made her own decision to leave the castle and find
her way home when no one else would help her.

She was different. And “different” in the Middle Ages, like
in many other time periods, often meant “dangerous”.

A tentative thread of confidence emerged from deep within
her belly. She glanced back up at the mormaer and straightened her spine. His
eyes shifted to Mary who was standing beside him. The woman wrung her hands as
she stared at Leah.

David had never encouraged Leah to attempt to learn Gaelic
and instead kept her busy speaking in English and French. Being immersed in the
Highlands for the past two weeks had allowed her to pick up many Gaelic
phrases, of course, but not enough to truly converse with Mary or with Glenna
or Alexander, for that matter. It had been strange at first teaching Glenna
French since she didn’t share a common language with the girl, but David’s
daughter proved to have a remarkable ear for picking up unfamiliar languages
and flourished.

David cleared his throat as though he could read the line of
thought in Leah’s mind. She couldn’t help but stare at him as the pieces of the
puzzle fell into place. Could the mormaer feel threatened by Leah’s presence in
his castle? Was it why he had decided to marry her off?

“Instead of my choosing your husband for you, there will be
a contest—a contest for your hand.” His eyebrows arched as though to challenge
her to protest.

Well, that bit of confidence was short-lived. Her stomach
flipped in anxiety again. “What do you mean?”

David shrugged. “The land and your hand will be the prize
for the man who draws first blood on his opponent.”

Alpina gasped beside her, squeezing Leah’s waist. “Oh, how
exciting! And so courtly! Surely this will net you a strong, powerful husband.”

Leah’s knees turned rubbery and she sank to the floor. “No,
no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head.

This couldn’t be happening. Men fighting over her? There was
no way this would work out. She was not the type of woman men fought and bled
over. She was just a librarian from Minnesota. Her life was boring. She ate ice
cream out of the container, drank unsweetened iced tea at restaurants, and
vacationed in places like Chicago. She did not wear handmade leather shoes made
by a castle cobbler, teach French to daughters of the nobility, or have a view
of craggy, mossy-green Scottish mountains from her bedroom window. She also did
not have men fighting to marry her.

And she most certainly did not have sex up against trees
with near strangers.

This was not her life.

“Now, now, lass,” David chided, his tone softening as he
assisted Alpina in picking her up off the floor.

They guided her to the bed and encouraged her to sit while
Alpina fanned her with her hands as though afraid Leah would faint. David waved
Alpina away and knelt down in front of Leah, patting her hand.

“I know this is a lot to take in. But I think you will be
happy with the end result.” He gave her a secretive wink before arising and
walking to the door. As he opened it, he turned back toward her. “I have
assigned guards to you.” He motioned to two serious-looking young men standing
just outside the door. “For your safety, of course.”

Of course.

Alpina sank down on the mattress next to her. “Here, my
dear. Have another drink.”

David descended the stairs as he spotted Rathe across the
courtyard. Leah was a welcome addition to his household, but the sooner he
could get her married off, the better.

Too many questions were being asked. Men wanting to know if
she was wealthy, well-connected or married. His wife wanting to know why she
was better educated than he. He didn’t know how to answer any of these
questions without divulging her secret.

He also didn’t know if he could protect her should the wrong
person find out how much knowledge she possessed about the future.

Chills still rustled up David’s spine every time he recalled
the morning with Leah in which he realized just how much knowledge she
possessed. She’d agreed to help him translate various documents and write
letters for him after he’d watched her writing in the dirt with Glenna out in
the courtyard. Leah had asked what the date was as she was preparing to take a
letter for him and then mused out loud the Scottish king should be in
negotiations to marry the sister of England’s king right about now. Leah even
knew the girl was a mere child of ten years who had just been sent to England
after growing up in the French court. When he questioned Leah about it, she
revealed to him King Alexander and his child bride would never have children
and he would later marry the daughter of a French nobleman by whom he would
conceive his only son.

David had been tempted to ask her more. To ask her what she
knew of Scotland’s fate. Of
his
fate. But he did not dare. Instead he
instructed her to never speak of anything she knew to anyone and then turned
away to make the sign of the cross. Sure, she was no witch, but the extent of
her knowledge still seemed somehow dangerous.

Deciding to send her to the Dunlop was for her own
protection. The old laird’s lands were far enough away to reduce the chance of
Leah’s exposure to those who might try to use her knowledge to their benefit.
No, it wasn’t a perfect solution. Rathe was right. He was probably foolish to
think the Dunlop could have kept the MacTavish away from her. As intelligent as
Leah was, her nature was far too trusting and timid for him to believe the man
couldn’t manipulate her into assisting him in one of his schemes. The MacTavish
always did have an uncanny way of sensing whom he could get close to and use,
but David hadn’t been able to come up with a better alternative.

Until now. He couldn’t believe he had overlooked the obvious
choice just because the MacTavish might throw a tantrum over David’s showing
any favoritism toward the Sinclair. Rathe was the perfect husband for her. As a
close friend of the MacAirth, he already had experience in keeping a secret
such as Leah’s. And he was loyal to the crown, not to mention a strong leader.
Rathe could keep her quiet and in her place, allowing her to aid the king when
necessary, and protect her secret from becoming known.

It was the least David could do for Leah. She had saved his
son—he
owed
her.

“Rathe!” he called, quickening his pace.

Rathe excused himself from his men and met David halfway
across the courtyard. “Is Leah all right?”

David hid the smile threatening to break across his face.
He’d known Rathe since his father had claimed him over fifteen years ago. Wild
and unrepentant as a youth, Rathe had been used to doing things on his own, in
his own way, for most of his life and had no desire to be saddled with a wife,
despite his father’s best intentions. Only time and his father’s death a decade
ago wrestled Rathe into any semblance of sober responsibility. Having an entire
clan depending upon you for protection, sustenance and guidance demanded a
certain selflessness and maturity of which David had not been convinced Rathe
was capable.

He had proved David wrong. He had proved them all wrong. Not
only was he a fierce, cunning warrior, but Rathe had shown himself to be a
gifted tactician and a brilliant negotiator. It was why the king had sent him
to the French court. Plus, no matter where he went, he had an instant rapport
with anyone he met. Men liked him or at least wanted to
be
like him.
Women swooned over him.

But now Rathe was standing before him and he was the one
swooning. David didn’t think he’d ever see the day, especially after chasing
after him twice to marry at the king’s behest. He was only sorry Rathe had been
subjected to such poor matches up to now.

“She is fine,” David replied with a nod as he came to a
stop. “I have her under guard.”

“Good,” Rathe muttered, crossing his arms. “I am tempted to
place a couple of my own men beneath her window in case she gets it into her
head to escape that way.”

David allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up in a
knowing smirk. “She might run again. Unless you convince her otherwise. I tried
to put the fear of God into the lass, but I doubt it will last long. She is too
smart and may take her fate into her own hands again. But she is also too
trusting and I fear the wrong person will get a hold of her if we are not
careful. She knows too much for us to let that happen.”

As he turned to leave, Rathe clasped his arm to stop him.
“What do you mean Leah knows too much? What knowledge does she have?”

Brows raised, David turned back toward Rathe. “Knowledge of
the future, of course. Like Anna MacAirth.”

“The future?”

David sighed. “You said you knew. I do not know where or
when but both of them have come to us from some point in the future. Have you
never wondered why Lady MacAirth knows so much about healing? Has so many
forward-thinking ideas? And Leah.” He shook his head. “She knows too much about
the political machinations of the king and his enemies. Knows what will happen
and why. If she falls into the wrong hands—”

Rathe nodded. “I will not let it happen, I assure you. How
far into the future though? Do you know?”

David shrugged. “I believe she mentioned the year 2014 to
me.”

Rathe’s eyes widened. “That is nearly eight hundred years.
How the hell could this have happened? And why?”