Enchanted Lover (2 page)

"I didna mean to keep you waiting so long,"
he said with a smile.

Asilinn shot him a withering glare. He bent and
removed her gag. She gasped in a deep breath of cold air. "I'm
freezing!" she spluttered. "Who are you? I would know your name that
I might mark you for death among my kinsmen!"

"I'm Jared MacLean, Laird of the clan MacLean,
Master of Dunbocan."

The Dragon of Dunbocan held her captive. Asilinn
shuddered involuntarily. Sitting around the fire with her father and his men,
she had heard many a story of this young MacLean chieftain. All her father's
men spoke of him with something akin to admiration for his daring feats upon
the field of battle. She knew he was a ruthless man. It was rumored he killed
his first wife and her unborn child.

As if reading her thoughts he gave her reassurance.
"If you do as you're told, you will come to no harm at my hand," he
said. Shaking a warning finger in her face, he leaned closer. "Dinna cross
me, lass. Your life depends upon your actions." With a ragged exhale, he
stroked the back of his hand against her cheek. When she tried to pull away his
smile returned.

"Take me home at once," she cried.

The MacLean threw his head back and laughed. The echo
reverberated off the walls until it sounded like a hundred men were scorning
her rebuttal. Asilinn let out an anguished cry, tears springing fresh in her
eyes. He stifled his laughter. A smirk crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"I dinna think you know your purpose,
lass," the MacLean told her. His hands moved down across her slender legs
despite her indignant protests. Had he felt the dirk pressed hard against her
calf? No, he was freeing her ankles from their bonds.

Asilinn tried to struggle to her feet, but her legs
were wobbly from the long hours of tight constriction. He caught her when she
fell and pulled her against his chest. The scent of pine and wet wool assailed
her nostrils through the haze of warmth his brief embrace provided. He stepped
back steadying her with one hand.

"The feeling will come back soon," he said
gruffly. The MacLean spread the leather cape on the ground at her feet.
"Sit. I'll build a fire." Asilinn did as she was told.

Turning his back to her, he picked up the firewood he
had stacked by the entrance. Soon a fire crackled lighting the recesses of the
cavern and flooding it with heat. He had positioned the fire carefully so the
smoke rose out the hole in the ceiling leaving them with a comfortable room.

The MacLean moved to his horse and took some bread
and cold, smoked meat out of a pouch. He came back to Asilinn and cut the rope
securing her wrists. She watched his hands while he worked. They were the
strong hands of a man who knew how to fight yet when they touched her, they
were gentle. Asilinn would not be fooled by his tender manner. At first chance,
she would retrieve her dirk from the garter holding up her hose and sink it
into his heart. For now she must bide her time and pick her opportunity.

He bent to rub her ankles and Asilinn drew her feet
away with a start. Did the MacLean read her thoughts? His gaze flew to her face
and held her captive with a grip stronger than her bonds had been—the man could
breathe fire over her with just one glance.

Flushed Asilinn looked away. He sat down beside her
and used his knife to cut a thick slice of bread and a hunk of meat. Gingerly
she reached forward and took the meal he offered. He watched her eat then
picked up his own food.

The bread was stale and Asilinn had to chew the
venison a long time in order to swallow it. Their long ride had made her hungry
and she was determined to keep her strength up by eating. When she finished she
took a deep breath and looked at him.

Summoning all her courage, she addressed him.
"What will you do with me, Laird MacLean?"

His eyes burned into her as if searching for the
answer to some riddle. "I plan to marry you, fair Asilinn, and unite
forever the clans of Innes and MacLean in peace."

Asilinn's jaw sagged—her eyes widened in disbelief
when the full import of his announcement hit her. She felt like she'd been
struck and left momentarily breathless from the impact. He had no intentions of
returning her. She was to be his captive wife, a whore for his pleasure and the
disgrace of her father. And he just sat there gawking at her with a crooked
grin painted across his face. Leaping to her feet, she whirled to face him.

"I'll never marry you!"

"Aye, you will, whether you want to or
not," he replied coolly.

"Want to! Scourge of the Highlands! Renegade son
of a thieving bastard! I wilna join myself with you. I will fight you until my
last breath is spent!"

Her captor seemed very amused by her raving. He had remained
seated watching her as if she were some drama unfolding for his entertainment.
"My father was neither a thief nor a bastard. Mayhaps you think of your
own."

"My father will take your head!"

His eyes glittered in a cold threat. "Then he
will die trying."

"I canna marry a MacLean!"

"I dinna recall giving you a choice." His
features shifted into a leer. "You are distressed by my plan?"

"Aye, I am. I canna be your wife!"

"Do you think I will not be an attentive
husband?" When Asilinn stomped her foot in rage his face broke into a
lecherous grin. "What possible benefit can you reap from an unwilling
wife?"

He stood and stretched his massive frame. His eyes
never left hers as he moved to within an arm’s length of her. His penetrating
stare made her feel naked. "Aside from the most obvious benefit," he
said, lightly running his hands down her arms, "I desire an end to this
war. Our clans must unite and join the fight against England instead of wasting
time in a squabble so old most cannot remember the root of it."

"I dinna believe you," Asilinn snapped,
jerking away from his touch and presenting her back to him.

"It is your choice." The MacLean came to
stand behind her. "But even your father would tell you I am a man of my
word. You will be my wife in every sense of the word and the day our son is
born there will be peace in the Highlands."

"Our son," Asilinn gasped. She could feel
the color rising to her face.

"Aye, our son," he repeated. The seductive
promise wrapped around Asilinn in the solitude of the cave sending chills up
her spine. He meant to have her and soon—rough and by force, the way another
MacLean had her mother those many years ago. It was the only way such an event
could pass between two sworn enemies. She forced her quaking limbs still in stoic
silence.

Jared watched her go rigid. She stood motionless, her
waist-length, golden hair shimmering in the firelight. Her skin was pale and
creamy—skin that seduced a man by the very feel of it soft beneath his fingers.
He would not be so easily affected by Asilinn’s charms. He knew too well what
deceits a fair face could hide and he would never mistake who this luscious
wench was. She was his sworn enemy from her birth to this day.

She was like a statue, grim and distant in her
composure. Her eyes held a sad faraway look—his doing. She was younger than he
expected, perhaps more readily brought to see her purpose, but see it or not,
she would fulfill it.

"Are you promised to someone?" he asked.

"If I were promised, would it make a
difference?"

"No."

She spun around and pounded his chest with her small
fists. "You and yours murdered my mother and brothers! I hate you!"

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tight to
him, and lifted her to meet his eyes.

"Dinna waste your strength. The journey will be
long and arduous and no amount of temper will sway my decision."

Asilinn squirmed, sending warm enticement to his
weary limbs. "God’s teeth," he swore when he released her. The wench
was too comely for her own good. “Be still! I need a few hours sleep before it
is dark enough for us to travel again." Taking hold of her arms, he
examined the red skin on her wrists and then dropped them back to her sides.
"This tantrum will make me tie you again."

"No! Please, I wilna run off. I swear. Where
could I go? We're miles from my home and I dinna know the way back. My wrists
are sore."

"You cannot get away from me," he warned.

Leading her over to the pallet he had fashioned on
the floor, Jared dropped to the ground and swung her onto his lap. He took a
short length of rope, tied one end around her wrist and the other around his.
Then he lay back on the makeshift bed pulling her along with him. She
spluttered indignantly. He ignored her, pinning her possessively against him
while he drifted into a light sleep.

Asilinn vigilantly waited for Laird Jared MacLean to
find sleep. His heavy arm cast firmly over her, holding her in his embrace.
Even if he slept soundly, it would be a real challenge to break free. Her back
was wedged against his muscular chest and she could feel every rise and fall of
his breath.

After she was somewhat certain he slept, she worked
her wrist free of the tether binding her to him. It was a more difficult task
than she had imagined with no knife to cut the bonds. The barbarian held her so
tight she could not reach her dirk. She was afraid of waking the slumbering
giant. She tried to make as little movement as possible.

He groaned and leaned further over her. His hot
breath tickled her neck. It was a strange feeling to lay intimately with a man.
She tried not to dwell on the peculiar gush of feelings it stirred. Her fingers
throbbed from working the tight knot of the rope. It seemed hopeless.

But suddenly the knot pulled loose—she was no longer
bound to him. If she could just get him to move, she could escape. Asilinn
wriggled in a restless imitation of sleep. She decided if she turned to face
him, she could more easily tell if he was waking. Carefully she eased her body
over. When she did his chest rubbed against her thinly clad breasts sending a
startling rush of heat over her. Her breathing became shallow—a dizzy
breathless feeling overtook her. What was it about him that made her blood race
through her veins? Fear, she decided, for nothing else in her life had affected
her this way.

When he turned in his sleep the weight of his arm
lifted from her. Quietly she scrambled away from his sleeping form. She leaned
against the wall of the cave and tried to calm the thundering rhythm of her
heart. What should she do now? She had been perfectly honest when she told him
she had no idea how to find her way home from here.

Retrieving the dirk from her garter, she turned the
small weapon over in her hand. He was such a large man. She doubted the short
blade could do the deed. Alas, now she had the opportunity, she found she
lacked the stomach for murdering him in his sleep. Were he to wake the outcome
was sure. She replaced her weapon and eased into the shadows.

The stallion lifted his head to watch her. She
supposed she should take his horse. He'd never catch her on foot. The other
horse would be lame for at least a day or two. Slowly she inched over to
Ailleagian and rubbed his nose until the huge stallion nuzzled her hand. He was
a fine horse, the finest she’d seen. Leading the horse to a rock near the
entrance to the cave, she climbed astride the mighty beast. With one backward
glance at her captor, she urged the horse out into the waning light.

Cold drizzle fell in a swirling mist soaking her
clothes in minutes. The stallion hesitated turning to look back at the cave
while he waded through the stream. Frustrated with the slowness of her escape,
Asilinn gave the beast a quick kick in the ribs to hurry him along. The horse
exhaled loudly but refused to move any faster. They were only several hundred yards
from the mouth of the cave and she was chilled to the bone.

A shrill whistle cut the air behind her and the
willful horse spun and galloped back to the entrance of the cave. The MacLean
stood with his arms folded over his broad chest eyeing her bedraggled
appearance.

"So, Lady Asilinn is anxious to start for her
new home." He reached up and plucked her from the horse's broad back.
"Asilinn, Asilinn, you have disappointed me. I must now assume I canna
trust you no matter what promises you make."

Asilinn bit her lip trying not to cry. She was cold
and miserable and he looked so damn smug about the whole thing. His hand moved
to test the saturation of her robe. "Ugly evening," he mused.
"But I cannot afford the luxury of waiting for your father to catch us."

He opened a leather pouch in the corner and withdrew
a pair of small britches, an oversized shirt, and a well-worn pair of boots.
"Take those wet clothes off and see if these will fit."

"I will do no such thing." Asilinn stamped
her foot for emphasis.

His face lit with amusement. "I'm glad milady
still has her fighting spirit but I wilna have you fall ill due to my
negligence. If you dinna remove your clothes and put these on, I'll do it for
you."

Asilinn felt her face flush steaming hot.
"Kindly avert your eyes."

"Nay, sweet Asilinn. You'll have to earn my
trust before you expect such privileges."

"I hate you!" She whirled around so her
back faced him, ripped off her wet robe, and stripped away the nightgown. She
was in such a temper she did not care how much of her was showing.

Jared sucked in his breath when he saw the firm
roundness of her buttocks. He felt an immediate quickening in his crotch when
his eyes flew over her perfect shape. He could just as easy have her now, stake
his claim and ensure his plan. His tarse sprang full ready at the thought, but
he wouldn't risk a treaty with her father by taking her before she was legally
his. The marriage vows must come first then….

She pulled up the britches and obscured part of his
view. Her alabaster back and bare shoulders still tantalized him.