Authors: Hannah Howell
It was hard for Avery to decide which heated her cheeks more: her rising desire or her embarrassment. She felt horribly exposed, yet the taut look of passion on his dark face kept her from trying to shield herself from his gaze. When he nudged her legs apart to wash between them, she grasped hold of his head, her knees so weak that she felt a need to support herself. She was shaking slightly by the time he rinsed the soap away, but when she tried to step away, he held her in place. A cry of shock and delight escaped her when he kissed the soft curls he had so gently bathed.
“Nay, Cameron,” she protested.
“Aye, Avery. Oh, most definitely, aye.”
With but a few strokes of his tongue, he silenced her embarrassed protests. Avery closed her eyes and gave herself over fully to the pleasure he was giving her. Very quickly she did not care what he saw or what he did, so long as he did not stop. With his fingers and his mouth, he drove her mad, pushing her to the edge time and time again only to draw back. He teased and tormented her until she was demanding that he end this torture.
He stopped her attempt to join their bodies, taking her to her release with his kisses. Even as she shuddered from the strength of it, he pulled her down onto his lap, impaling her on himself. He bent her back over his arm and turned his greedy, sensuous attentions upon her breasts. With his hands upon her hips, he moved her body on his until she felt her passion soaring again. This time when she cried out in release, he was with her.
Although several moments had passed, Avery was still dazed from his lovemaking when she let him lift her from the bath and dry her off. When he was done, she had recovered enough to snatch the drying cloth from his hands. She began to rub him dry, determined to push him to the brink of madness as he had done to her.
By the time she was kneeling in front of him, painstakingly drying his legs, Cameron was breathing hard. Her own desire rising rapidly, Avery meticulously dried his groin, savoring his every gasp and groan as she stroked him. She then tossed aside the cloth, placed her hands on his trim hips, and ever so slowly ran her tongue up the full length of his erection. The groan that escaped him seemed to shake his whole body.
Cameron stared down at her as she kissed and licked him. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side as he fought for the control to enjoy her loving. When she captured his gaze with hers and then eased him into her warm mouth, he knew that was a pleasure he did not have the strength to savor for very long at all.
Finally, with a harsh cry that was a mixture of pleasure and disappointment over
his own inability to control himself, he gripped her beneath her arms and carried her to the bed. Even as he thought to apologize for not being able to take the time to stir her passions to an equal height, he plunged into her and found her more than ready for him. That proof that she had been nearly as aroused as he by loving him only inflamed him more. What ensued was a frenzied mating, but Avery met and equaled his ferocity. When his release shuddered through him, she was but a heartbeat behind with her own.
He collapsed into her arms. Although Cameron suspected he was too heavy for her, he was too wrung out to move. After a few minutes, he felt her squirm a little beneath him and he mustered just enough strength to flop over onto his back and pull her up against his side. If they kept indulging their passion for each other with such ferocity, he would be entering Cairnmoor on a litter. When he recalled that reaching his home would signal the end of his affair with Avery, he swiftly pushed such thoughts right out of his mind. He did not want to think of endings when his body still thrummed from the delights he had just enjoyed.
“I think we need to practice some caution, lass,” he said, brushing a lazy kiss over her forehead. “Much more of this greedy behavior and I willnae be able to sit a horse.”
“Dinnae have the stamina ye had when ye were young, is that it?” she murmured, lightly rubbing her hand over his hip.
“Verra amusing. Ye should be too exhausted to be so impertinent.”
“I recover fast.” She yawned and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Was that, weel…normal?”
Cameron laughed softly. “Afraid ye may be excommunicated or something?” He stroked her back, then began to fondle her backside, unable to stop touching her. “If ye confessed all this, ye would probably have to do a penance or two since the church considers most all pleasures a sin. Aye, they scowl upon anything more than a hurried rutting in the dark whilst nearly fully clothed. Dinnae fret o’er it, lass. We havenae done anything many another hasnae done, and I dinnae think ’tis the devil leading ye along.”
Nay, just my loins
, she mused, but she only nodded. From what she had occasionally overheard the men in her family talk about, most everyone was indeed indulging themselves whenever the opportunity arose. If enjoying such pleasures was enough to consign oneself to hell’s fires, she would not be lonely, for most of her family would probably be roasting right alongside her.
“Humph, ye have gotten me all a-sweat,” she mumbled, glancing toward the bath.
“Want me to scrub your back?” he offered with a grin as she scrambled over his body and walked toward the tub.
Shivering slightly as she hastily washed up with the now-cooled water, she limited her response to one brief, thoroughly-disgusted look his way. She wrapped the drying cloth around herself and hurried back to bed. Even as she crawled back beneath the blankets, Cameron grabbed the drying cloth off her and went to wash up. She squeaked with surprise when he got back into bed a few minutes later and yanked her into his arms.
“Cameron, ye are cold all over,” she protested.
“I ken it,” he said, holding her even closer. “Ye will warm me up.”
He slid his hand over her stomach and between her thighs. Her gasp of shock quickly turned to a murmur of delight. Cameron found the way she responded so swiftly and sweetly to him one of the greatest pleasures he had ever known. He hooked her leg back over his hip, opening her more fully to his touch.
“I am definitely feeling warmer now,” he murmured against her ear.
Avery shivered, feeling the deep rumble of his voice all the way down to her toes “I thought ye were going to curb our greedy behavior.” She gasped as he suddenly turned her onto her back and crouched over her, the size of his erection telling her that he was certainly feeling greedy again.
“I was thinking that our recent gluttonous behavior has fed my fever weel enough that, this time, I can go slowly.” He dragged his tongue over her nipple. “I can savor you, play with you, linger over each and every delicious inch of you.”
His soft, husky words made her skin tingle with anticipation. “Ye were worried about being unable to sit your horse,” she reminded him.
“I can walk, or, mayhap I will just have Leargan carry me about.” He kissed each of her hipbones.
When he settled himself between her legs and licked the inside of each thigh, she whispered, “Ye plan to drive me completely insane, dinnae ye?”
He hooked her legs over his shoulders, slid his hands beneath her bottom, and touched a kiss to her nether curls. “Completely.”
“Oh, sweet Mary,” she groaned. She suspected it would be the last coherent thing she would say for a very long time.
“’Tis the DeVeaux again.”
Cameron stared at Leargan in utter disbelief, then softly cursed.
Although he and Leargan had ridden ahead of the others to make sure the trail they followed was safe, he had not really expected to find any trouble. They were making good time in their journey to the port they would sail from—such good time that they had almost made up for the four days lost waiting for the wounded men to heal enough to travel safely. In truth, he was undoubtedly pushing his people harder than was needed. He had heard a few grumbles, but he fought to ignore them. It was probably not completely rational, yet he felt that if he took his time, everyone would think it was because he wished to hold onto Avery a little longer. Since that was exactly what he did want to do, he strove hard to do the exact opposite. In his current state of emotional turmoil, confronting DeVeau’s men was not something he wanted to deal with.
“After all the men they lost in the last attack, ye would think they would give up,” Cameron said. “The mon didnae pay us that weel. Jesu, he would pay nearly as much now just to replace the men he lost.”
“Aye, it makes no sense. Perhaps we should try to spy upon them for a wee bit. They may not even be looking for us.”
After considering the idea for a moment, Cameron nodded. They rode closer to where the De Veaux were camped, then dismounted and secured their horses. Slipping through the trees, they reached the very edge of the camp and crouched in the shadows. Cameron nearly cursed aloud when a familiar figure stepped out of a tent a few feet away. Sir Charles DeVeau rarely rode with his men. Cameron found the man’s presence ominous.
As they watched, a small table was set up. A fine linen cloth was spread over it and it was set with rich plates, eating utensils, and a goblet. Cameron nearly grunted in disgust when an ornate padded chair was set before the table. Sir Charles sat down and a nervous little man hurried over to serve what was obviously the first course of a many-course dinner. Cameron doubted the man fed his soldiers with such care and bounty.
Sir Charles was into the third course of his elaborate meal and Cameron was thinking that he and Leargan were wasting their time, when one of the DeVeau soldiers marched up. “Where are the MacAlpins?” Sir Charles asked after dabbing at his mouth with a lace-trimmed linen napkin.
“Not far from here, my lord,” the man replied.
“And the prize I seek?”
“Should be along shortly. Luck was with us. We gained the prize without even alerting the camp.”
A chill snaked down Cameron’s spine. He knew they were not talking about the coin. That was stored with the baggage and could not possibly be taken without someone being alerted, for it would be set in the very heart of his camp. His unease grew as he mulled over every other possibility, continuously coming back to the same answer. DeVeau had sent his men to kidnap someone and, recalling that there was an old, bitter feud between the DeVeaux and the Murrays and Lucettes, he had a bone-chilling idea of just who they might be seeking.
He looked at Leargan and found no reassurances in that man’s dark expression. It was clear that his cousin had reached the same conclusion. Cameron silently asked,
“Stay?” and Leargan nodded. Tense and fighting to stay calm and clearheaded, Cameron waited, all the while praying that he was wrong.
Avery slipped away from camp for a moment of privacy. She half smiled when her guard watched her leave, looked to see that Gillyanne was still in the camp, and returned to his work. The guards had obviously decided that, if she and Gillyanne were not together, there was little chance she would try to escape. Avery was a little tempted to make a dash for it just to stir things up, but she knew that Cameron would never believe she had only meant it as a tease.
Feeling a need to stretch her legs after riding all day, she walked slowly through the wood, keeping the camp within hearing distance if not always in sight. For a week now they had been riding steadily toward the port from which they would sail to Scotland. It seemed as if Cameron was pushing them hard. Although she could understand his need to return home to sort out his sister’s troubles, or even because he missed Scotland after being away for so long, it still hurt that he would hurry so. As far as she knew, he still planned to be rid of her once they reached Cairnmoor. Despite telling herself not to be foolish, that it was vain to think everything the man did was somehow about her, and despite the greed with which he still reached for her in the night, Avery could not stop herself from occasionally thinking that he was in a painful hurry to be rid of her.
She often puzzled over how the problem of Cameron’s sister could be solved without using her or Gillyanne. If the girl could be exposed as the liar she so clearly was, that would solve everything, but Avery doubted that could be accomplished easily. From what little information she had gathered about Katherine, the girl knew how to get what she wanted—and she wanted Payton. There was little chance that the man who had been her lover, if there even was one, would step boldly forth and claim responsibility. That left only the chance that Cameron would fall in love with her, would be so anxious to keep her at his side, that he would find some other solution to his sister’s problem. Avery saw little sign of that miracle occurring.
Some ripe berries caught her eye and Avery hurried to collect them. They would add a nice sweetness to the camp fare that consisted mostly of meat and porridge. As she filled the hollow made by her gathered skirts, she sensed something that sent a tremor of alarm through her. She stared off into the woods but could see nothing. Just as she was about to turn to look behind her, a large, gauntleted hand was clamped over her mouth.
Avery dropped her skirts, scattering the berries, and started to reach up to try and remove that hand. She gave a muffled scream as her hands were grabbed, yanked behind her, and bound at the wrists. The hand over her mouth was removed, but she was gagged with a cloth so swiftly she did not even have time to draw the breath needed to scream for help. Despite her struggles, she was easily lifted up and flung over a broad shoulder, the thrashing of her legs stilled by the tightening of a muscular arm around them. She was painfully bounced along as the man who held her captive ran through the wood, away from the MacAlpin camp.
A few moments later, she was flung belly-down over a saddle, the breath knocked out of her. As she struggled to recover from that, her captor mounted and spurred his horse into a gallop. Avery set her mind to not becoming ill. She tried to see who held her, but gained only the knowledge that there were three men, their attire and fine horses
marking them as knights, or at least, rather successful mercenaries.
It was not until they reached a camp that Avery got a better idea of exactly what kind of trouble she was in. Dazed, her head pounding, and her stomach bruised, she was dragged from the horse and set roughly on her feet. It was then that she saw the DeVeau banner. As she was yanked toward an ornate tent, she prayed this was some ploy to get DeVeau’s coin back without losing any more men, and not because Sir Charles had discovered who she was.
Her gag was yanked off as she was set before Sir Charles, and she welcomed the wine that was poured down her throat, despite the fact that it was given to her so roughly it nearly choked her. “This becomes tedious,” she finally said, meeting Sir Charles’s cold gaze and holding it. “Is there yet another gambling debt to be paid? Or do you think Sir Cameron will pay to get me back?”
“Sir Cameron will not be given the chance to get you back,” Sir Charles replied, studying her closely as he sipped his wine.
“Why? You did not think I was worth enough to pay off Sir Bearnard’s debt. Has my worth suddenly risen then?”
“Oh, yes, quite. You are a Murray.”
Avery fought down the surge of fear that rushed through her and gave the man a look of pure, innocent confusion. “A who?”
“Very well done,” Sir Charles drawled, almost smiling. “Do not waste your time and mine with that game. Your kinsmen, the Lucettes, have been demanding your return and that of your cousin. They refuse to believe that I do not have you—either of you.”
“And what do you care about what the Lucettes want or believe?”
“I care nothing at all, except that the extent of their concern tells me that you could prove very useful to me.”
“How?” Avery prayed that he would speak of some simple ransom or an exchange of prisoners. His reply made her heart sink into her boots.
“I am not yet sure. My only plan thus far was to remove you from Sir Cameron’s grasp. Now that that has been accomplished, I must pause to consider all possibilities. I suppose the Scot has bedded you?”
“Sir Cameron has taken a vow of celibacy. He is returning me to my family.”
“Ah, yes, to the murderess and the lover who aided her in escaping justice.”
“My mother did not kill anyone. She was proven innocent; the real murderers were found and hanged.”
“Or so the Lucettes would have us believe. It matters not. It is an old crime, although the bitch profited well by it.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Now, there is a thought. I wonder how much Lady Gisele would be willing to give up to get her daughter back?”
“I think your king might frown upon your forcing her to give up what he, and his father before him, have said belongs to my mother and the Lucettes.”
Sir Charles stood up and slowly walked around her. Avery cringed inwardly as he stroked her tumbled hair, patted her backside, and then, with an almost frightening coldness, placed one pale hand over her breast. She held steady, forcing herself not to reveal any of the deep revulsion she felt, and to meet his gaze with a cold stare.
“I wonder how your father and mother would feel if I sent you back to them with your belly swollen with my bastard,” Sir Charles said as he returned to his seat and had
another drink of wine.
“And I suggest that you try to recall how your cousin Michael died.”
“Think to geld me, do you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Such fire. It will be interesting to see how well it warms a man’s bed.”
He languidly waved his hand at her guard. “Secure her in my tent, Anton.” He smiled faintly. “And be sure there are no sharp objects about.”
Avery did not fight as she was taken into the tent, knowing it would be a useless waste of her strength. She shook her head when she found the inside of his tent furnished like an elegant bedchamber. Her guard untied her wrists and, with the help of Sir Charles’s burly squire, tied her hand and foot to the large bed.
The moment the men left, Avery stared blindly at the fire in the center of the huge tent and tried to calm herself. She needed some strand of hope to maintain her strength. Cameron would come after her. What troubled her was the feeling that he would not really do so because he cared for her, but because honor and the fact that he needed her for his sister drove him to it. Then she told herself not to be such an idiot. The reasons why he would come did not really matter at the moment—only that he would come. She set her mind to praying that her rescue would not cost Cameron too dearly, and that it would come before Sir Charles had a chance to defile her with his touch.
Cameron took several deep breaths to calm himself, then signaled Leargan that he could safely release him now. When he had seen Avery brought before Sir Charles and heard the man’s plans for her, rage had blinded him for a moment. Only Leargan’s quick action had saved him from the fatal error of bursting into the DeVeau camp and relieving Sir Charles of the hand that had touched Avery. Cautiously, he followed his cousin back to their horses.
“I have to get her back,” Cameron said as he stood by his horse, tightly gripping the saddle and struggling to further control his rage and fear.
“Of course ye do,” Leargan agreed. “I wonder how his cousin Michael died?” he asked, thinking to divert Cameron long enough to help him regain some calm.
“’Tis said that his manhood was cut off, shoved into his mouth, and then his throat was cut.”
“Jesu,” Leargan whispered. “How did ye find that out?”
“I asked why Sir Charles wanted to attack the Lucettes and learned a great deal about the feud. Avery also told me of her mother’s side of the tale. Clearly there is a measure of greed involved in it all.” Cameron mounted. “We shall need a few men.”
Leargan mounted and followed Cameron as they slowly rode away, needing a little more distance from the DeVeau camp before spurring their horses into a gallop. “’Twas easy to slip close to the camp, and Sir Charles’s tent is foolishly set near the edge.”
“So, enough men to create a diversion, and a small number to raid Sir Charles’s tent.”
“Aye, that should do it.”
“And we shall have to tell the others to break camp and move on. No point in sitting there waiting for the DeVeaux to try and retrieve their prize. I think I shall have to kill Sir Charles,” Cameron added quietly, spurring his mount into a gallop before Leargan could argue the wisdom of that.
They found the camp in an uproar; Avery’s disappearance was already discovered. Cameron fought against the urge to vent his tumultuous feelings upon Wee Rob. He had told the man to make sure that Avery did not try to escape, and the man had done his job. He had never considered the possibility that Avery might have enemies who would try to take her. That had been foolish. He had known about the feud, the old hatreds, between the DeVeaux and the Murrays. He should have considered the possibility that DeVeau would discover just whom Sir Bearnard had captured and would want the girls back. At least Gillyanne was safe, Cameron thought as he met her fear-widened gaze and nearly winced with guilt.
“Are ye sure that Sir Charles kens who Avery is?” Gillyanne asked.
“Aye, I fear so, lass,” Cameron replied. “I heard him say so myself. Leargan and I were close enough to hear every word said.”
“Jesu,” Gillyanne whispered. She shivered. “He will hurt her.”
“Nay, lass, ye cannae be sure of that,” Cameron lied, desperate to soothe her.