Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2) (10 page)

Latharna came down and flew straight at Isobel, so close that the bird’s black beady eyes met hers. Unflinching, Isobel held her ground, and with a single flap, Latharna landed on the glove. Immediately, her sharp curved beak tore into the mouse. In seconds, the whole mouse was gone.

“Good girl, Latharna,” Isobel cooed.

I could be a Grand Falconer, my falcon always comes back to me. It’s the men that I lose.

A cool spring breeze whispered through the trees surrounding Kinneff kirk. The wedding guests, Rabbie and Catriona, and the rest of the Graham family had long since sought their bed for the night. Even little William had gone to sleep without a fuss, despite his long afternoon nap. But Isobel was restless and vaguely uneasy as she wandered through the small cemetery. The scant moonlight showed her the stones, but the names on them were unreadable in this light.

She pulled her shawl closer around her when the wind sent shivers down her spine. Something had drawn her out here tonight. But what?

The borrowed dress wrapped around her legs then blew free again. Tomorrow they would be leaving Reverend Grainger and his wife to safeguard The Honours of Scotland on their own. Da, Finn, and Rabbie all agreed that they would go to the castle of the Graham clan, Main Castle in lowlands Dundee. They had relatives there, albeit distant cousins. But they could stay within the walls until such time as Dunnottar was liberated from the English or a new, permanent residence could be found.

Isobel did not want to travel so far, only to end up in yet another unfamiliar place. She wanted to go home to Dunnottar, even if their own house no longer existed. But what about the English soldiers who still occupied the castle? She had no answer for that problem.

With all of these thoughts tumbling through her head as she walked aimlessly, she didn’t hear him until she had nearly walked right into him.

“Belle. Did ye not hear me calling your name?”

“Derek!”

This filthy, bearded creature, reeking of musky, swampy odors, was indeed Derek Sinclair.

“Hush, speak softly, my love. I wouldna wish yer Da nor your brothers to see me just yet.” He held his hands out beseechingly, but did not touch her. Despite his ragged, dirty appearance, she wanted him to touch her very much.

“What are you doing here? What happened to you? You look half starved.”

“Aye, I’m actually fully starved.” He attempted a smile, but failed. “Have ye any food out here?” Then he dropped his hands and staggered a few steps to sit on a tombstone.

“I can go back to the house and get you something. First, tell me how you found me … uh … us and why you’ve come.”

“The falcons led me to you. When I saw the birds circling high in the sky, I followed them. It took several tries before I found the right hawks to lead me to you.” He grinned, a flash of white in his mud-smeared face. “I wasna sure ’twas you in that dress. Ye look verra pretty.”

Isobel laughed at that. “Ye are a charmer, Derek Sinclair, but you can drop the accent now, we ken that you are English.”

At that, he clapped a hand to his mouth and then dropped it. “I dinna mean to mock ye, lass, ’tis just that weariness has always made the accent of my childhood appear. And I am verra weary.”

She looked him up and down. Even in the dimness, she could see that he wore the same shirt and breeches he’d had on when he left. He had mud clear over his boots and up to his thighs, and he had lost weight.

Despite all of this, and his offensive smell, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips, the one clean part of him.

Although he didn’t put a hand on her, she knew he had roused to the kiss. Little sounds of passion rolled up from inside him. Derek’s hot tongue gently danced into her mouth and caressed every single inch inside. Isobel felt that he would eat her, if he could. Not only was he physically starved, Derek was sexually starved, and she was his meal.

When she finally pulled away, it was as if she were ripping her soul out of her body to leave off their contact.

“W-why? I ask again, why did ye come here, Derek? To tear me apart anew?” Isobel was dangerously close to tears and bit her lip to control its trembling.

“I know.” He rubbed a hand over his whiskered face. “I knew this would be hard … to see ye again and ken I couldna have ye, Belle. Did I not have knowledge about where Sir George and Lady Ogilvie are to be found, I would not have made such an arduous trek. But the little laddie deserves to be with his family, and his mamm deserves to have her son with her.”

This time it was Isobel who put a hand over her mouth to prevent shouting aloud. “Where? Where are his parents?”

“Back at Dunnottar castle. The English army decided it was the best place to house them.”

“But how can we get William to them, and should we put the lad in a prison cell with them?”

“Shh, Belle. Be easy now. The Ogilvies are not in prison cells, they are under house arrest.” He wiped a dirty hand on his filthy shirt and looked at his palm. Apparently deciding it was clean enough, he hesitantly took hold of Isobel’s hand.

Warmth and peace spread instantly from her hand, up her arm, into her body, and serenity filled her heart.

Derek was her home! But how could she have him forever? Was there a way?

“What does ‘house arrest’ mean?” She rapidly ran through possible scenarios in her head whereby her father would allow Derek to stay with them. None of these seemed to have a chance of working.

“They are free to move about inside the walls of the castle only … they cannae leave Dunnottar.”

“Then they would be able to care for William as before the siege.” But Isobel worried, “How will we get him back to his da and mamm without becoming prisoners ourselves?”

Derek’s stomach chose this moment to growl loudly.

“I’ve an idea,” he said.

Isobel studied him closer. The man was far too pale, even in this light. She squeezed his hand gently. “I ken ye for a verra smart man, Derek. But let it wait. Ye need food, drink, a bath, and sleep before you fall over.”

“I will not fight you on that, Belle.”

* * *

Derek watched her walk away and briefly admired the feminine lines of her body, which were clearly visible in that dress. Darkness swallowed her too quickly.

God, I’m tired.

Sliding off the tombstone, he sank down on the grass at the base. He meant to sit and wait for her, but exhaustion took over. He lay down and closed his eyes. Finding the Grahams had taken everything he had, particularly when he misstepped and became trapped in the peat bog for hours. Stuck in the muck up to his thighs, Derek had finally figured out that leaning backwards on top of the wet peat allowed him to distribute his weight over the surface and slowly, slowly pull his legs out.

The whole thing had been a nightmare come true.

It seemed only seconds had passed and Isobel was shaking him awake.

“Derek, Derek, I’ve food for ye.”

He had never appreciated being awakened so much. His red-haired angel stood over him with a plateful of food in hand, and a lantern in the other. Her natural beauty seemed all the more magical by the soft light of the oil lamp.

Jerking to a sitting position again, he accepted the plate. Thick slabs of pork, roasted carrots with honey, two chicken legs, and crusty slices of bread were piled high on the plate. She pulled three red apples out of her pockets and placed them on his lap.

His mouth watered at the sight and smells. “Thank you, Belle. This is a lot of food. Are you sure I should have it?”

“Oh, aye,” she said and sat beside him on the grass. “The good Scots of Kinneff were verra generous for a wedding feast. There is plenty more.”

Derek dove into the bounty without further delay.

“Rabbie and Catriona were officially married today.”

He glanced up, chicken leg to his mouth and eyebrows raised. “I thought—”

“Oh, they were already married. Da did a handfasting ceremony at Catriona’s cottage. Rabbie was still verra sick from the flogging by the … uh … English.”

Derek waved a dismissive hand. “Go on.”

“He was too ill to travel, so Cat was going to stay with him. They couldna be alone together without handfasting.”

Swallowing the chicken in his mouth, Derek grinned. “I feel better already, Belle. But why did you all need to leave them? You were safe there, closer to Dunnottar.”

She hesitated before answering, so he bit into the fresh bread and moaned blissfully.

Finally, she answered. “There were too many soldiers around. We were right to leave. Only two weeks later, Catriona’s home was burned to the ground.”

“Aye, I remember that was mentioned. I am so sorry, we aren’t all animals, ye ken.”

“Och, I know that, Derek. I wouldna be attracted to you, if I thought you were violent.”

She fell silent, and Derek wondered if he needed or dared respond to her statement. He forked some sweet carrots into his mouth and considered the issue while he chewed. Swallowing the tasty vegetables, he decided to dare. “The feeling is mutual, Belle. I want to be with you every moment of every day, forever and ever. I love you.”

Because they were sitting side by side in the dark, almost touching shoulders, he felt her startle briefly when he said the final three words. Then her body relaxed, but she said nothing.

Finishing the last bite, Derek leaned back against the headstone and sighed. “That was wonderful, Belle. Now, if only I could get a bath and some clean clothes, I might feel human again.”

Isobel took the plate from him and smoothly dropped an object in his palm. “Soap. You need it. You stink.”

“I agree. Where can I wash?”

She stood up, placed the plate on the stone, picked up the lantern and urged him up. “Come, there is a small stream ye can use. ’Twill be cold this time of year.”

True to her word, she led him to a stream burbling through the woods.

“Listen, Belle, you should go inside and sleep. It is verra late, and I dinna want your father to worry about you. Your family doesna think much of me; I would hate to make it worse. I can handle it from here.”

He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before sitting down to pull off his mud-caked boots, carefully keeping his gaze off her so he wouldn’t be tempted to take matters further.

“I think Fin left some of his clothing in the cart. I’ll bring back something clean for ye to wear, then I’ll go inside.”

“Thank you for everything, Belle. I pray your family will not kill me on sight before I can help reunite William with his mother and father.”

As he spoke, he began to peel off his filthy shirt without thinking. Then he saw the expression on her face. Could his eyes be deceiving him? Was it truly passion?

“Uh, let me get those clothes.” Isobel abruptly wheeled around and bustled away into the night. Soon, her presence was merely a bobbing dot of lantern light.

Would she be safe alone? Should he go with her? Likely, she would not appreciate being coddled or thought of as helpless. With a mental shrug, Derek continued to strip naked.

Moonlight sparkled on the tumbling, burbling water meandering between the rocks. The air smelled of damp earth. But in this serene setting was one thing that brought every part of Isobel’s body to heat-induced attention—the slick, gloriously naked, thoroughly masculine figure of Derek Sinclair.

Frozen to the spot, Isobel watched his hands distributing soap over his well-defined chest. Muscular buttocks gleamed in the dim light. She was mesmerized.

Then he half-turned away and bent over to soap up his legs. An irrational urge to squeeze that firm backside seized her, but she didn’t move lest she miss the show unfolding in front of her.

Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. When an insect nearly flew in her mouth, she realized it was hanging open. Isobel closed her mouth. Next she’d be drooling and that would be very unladylike.

She must have made some kind of sound for he turned and met her gaze. Derek smiled; a slow lazy smile that spread from ear to ear.

Then Isobel realized she was not the only one aroused by the situation. When he saw her looking further south, his grin grew even wider.

Derek beckoned.

Isobel shook her head.
No, I canna go
.

Derek beckoned again.

Still holding the lantern, Isobel laid the clean garments at her feet and stepped closer. She stopped.

Derek turned his magnificent body to face her straight on. Bending over, he splashed water on his face then submerged his whole head in the water. Straightening up again, he lathered his thick dark hair with soap then dunked his head again.

As he rose from the water, silvery streams flowed down his arms with their sprinkling of hair and down his muscled chest to disappear in the thatch of dark hair further down.

Isobel swallowed. The cold water had not diminished his oblivious need.

He waved her forward again, without saying a word.

Having made no conscious decision, Isobel kicked off her shoes and pulled the dress off over her head, leaving her clad in just a shift. She took a step toward the stream, toward him.

Derek nodded, and his grin returned.

Isobel wiggled out of her shift. She knew the night air had to be cool, but her skin was on fire, yearning for his touch.

“Come, sweetheart, I willna hurt you.” Derek had come to the stream’s bank to take her hand.

“But, Derek, I’ve never—”

“And you won’t this time either. There are ways to leave your virginity intact.”

She heard his words, but did not know what he meant.

“Do ye trust me, love?”

“Aye, I do,” she said.

“I lied to you once, I’ll not lie again.”

With that, he led her deeper into the water until they reached a still pool in the center. The water rose to her waist, but it wasn’t cold; it refreshed her over-heated body.

Standing in front of her, Derek put his damp palms on her cheeks and leaned in until they were touching front to front.

The kiss started out tender and gentle, but in seconds, they both wanted more.

Isobel finally touched him, and she threw all caution to the wind. Her questing hands caressed his face, his neck, and down to his shoulders and corded arms.

He didn’t shy away from doing the same to her. But he had the soap. Silky, slippery soap was applied with big warm hands, and it soon coated her whole body. He paid special attention to her breasts.

Small mewing noises came from Isobel’s throat, surprising her.

First, his hands encircled each slippery breast, and he cupped them in his palms as if judging their weight. When he transferred his hot mouth from her lips to her nipples, Isobel thought she might melt away like a spring snow.

As his mouth was busy teasing and tasting her breasts, his right hand slipped between her legs, touching and questing until he found the secret spot.

“Sweet Mary, Mother of God!” Isobel had never felt such a sensation in her life.

She felt him smile against her breast as his fingers danced and caressed her under the water. All rational thought fled, and she could only clutch his shoulders to stay upright. Her hair fell forward as her head dropped to his shoulder as well.

Still, Derek’s fingers moved and excited her even more. Her body became as tense as a bowstring. Pressure built until she was sure she would explode like an overripe fruit.

Then it happened.

She did explode! Her body convulsed uncontrollably under his attention in sweet, sweet release that left her gasping for air.

Derek held her tight against him as she rode on a tide of exquisite sensations. Every inch of her skin was as sensitive as a newborn babe’s, and she twitched each time his touch went away and returned again.

* * *

In his wildest dreams, Derek could not have imagined the heights of Isobel’s passion. She had been incredibly responsive to his touch, and he silently rejoiced when she reached the top of the mountain.

When she began to relax, he explored her lithe body again and found that she was, indeed, untouched by another man. Her maidenhood would remain intact.

Wrapping both arms around Belle, he supported her in the water as her strength temporarily ebbed away. These womanly curves and firm muscles felt so right in his arms. If only Belle was his to keep, he would love her like this whenever she wanted.

“Oh, Derek.”

“Yes, my wild one?”

“You’ve made me so happy tonight. What can I do for you?” She took a deep breath and found firm footing in the stream.

“Ye dinna have to do anything, I’m here for you.”

“No,” she said and wrapped her slender fingers around his maleness, stealing his breath away.

Bold as brass, his flame-haired temptress took the soap from his hand, rubbed it between her palms, then applied her hands skillfully to his anatomy.

This was all the encouragement he needed. With a stifled groan, he too convulsed, still holding tightly to Belle.

“All right … I give in … and thank ye.” He spoke between gasps for air.

Derek let his head drop to her shoulder and kissed the spot where her slender neck joined her luscious body.

“
A thighearna
! You’ve been sent from heaven, my angel.”

With that, he scooped her up and carried her to the grassy bank with water streaming off their bodies. Setting her on her feet, he used Fin’s clean shirt to dry her body.

“But you’ll be wearing a wet shirt, Derek.”

“’Twill dry quickly. I thank you for the clean clothing.”

With her eyes on him and his gaze on her, Derek slowly donned the shirt, stockings, and breeches by the lantern’s sputtering flame. Finally coming back to reality, Derek took his boots to the stream and used some moss to clean them off. He knew she still watched his every move.

“The oil is almost gone.” Derek said as he picked up the lantern. “Let’s get you back to the house now.”

Arm in arm, they walked to the Grainger house and parted with a last kiss.

“I will sleep in the woods. When I see you tomorrow, it will be best if your Da thinks I’ve just arrived.”

“Aye, I will act surprised.”

“Good, until tomorrow then.”

“Guid night, Derek. And Derek? I am nae so sure that my purity is intact.” Isobel eased open the door.

“It is, sweetling. Ye’ll ken when it is gone. Sweet dreams, Belle.” He handed over the lantern, turned, and left as she quietly shut the door behind him.

* * *

Isobel slept alone by the fire the remainder of the night because William had wanted to be with Catriona and Rabbie, his temporary parents.

Morning came all too soon, accompanied by the loud crowing of a rooster, followed shortly thereafter by the pitter-patter of little feet as William dashed outside to relieve himself.

Isobel pulled the blanket over her head, preparing for the attack she knew was coming.

“Time to wake up, Belle. Can I have honey on my porridge? Will we have another party today? Do ye think there are any sweets leftover? Can I have some, if there are any?” William peeled back the blanket and crouched down to peer into her face and fling questions at her.

“It’s verra early, laddie. Why do ye not ask Catriona these things?”

The boy pulled the blanket up and crawled under to lie face to face with Isobel. “Because Rabbie told me to find you and stay with ye until they come out.”

She closed her eyes. “Och, sounds just like Rabbie. Lie here quietly for a bit, please.”

“Why? Are ye sleepy still? Did you eat too much at the party and vomit? My Da would drink ale, and it made him sleepy. Did you drink ale, Belle?”

Isobel moaned as the chatterbox continued.

“Does your falcon drink ale? What about Roger? Do donkeys drink ale? I don’t drink it. I tried some from Rabbie’s cup. He let me. I dinna like ale.”

“All right. I’m getting up.” Throwing back the blanket, she liberated herself and William from its hold, and they headed toward the kitchen.

Mrs. Graham, bless her, was already on duty and ready with porridge and honey with hot tea for Isobel and milk for William.

Shouting and cursing from outside caught their attention just as Isobel sipped her last mouthful of tea. The two women exchanged glances then rushed outside, followed by William, Rabbie, and Catriona.

“He’s a damned thief! He took my clothes!” Fin shouted as he struggled to break free from the hold his father and Reverend Grainger had on both of his arms.

On the opposite side of the wagon, standing at the forest’s edge, was the man Isobel had hoped with all her heart would still be here this morning.

“Derek!” She rushed toward him instinctively, only to check her headlong flight before she took three steps. His mouth was smiling, but his brown eyes warned her off.

Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, Derek came closer. “Listen, I’m only borrowing your clothes until mine dry.” He pointed to a set of headstones draped with his breeches and he held out a very soggy shirt. “I got verra wet out on the moors. If ye prefer, I can take off your clothes right now, Fin. Is that what ye want?”

“Why are ye here, Derek?” Rabbie asked as Catriona drew up beside Isobel.

Before he could answer, a falcon swooped low over them all, wheeled around and flew directly between the Grahams and Derek.

The peregrine was Isobel’s bird, Latharna. She’d come down from the trees without being called. The adults froze and William hid in Catriona’s skirts.

Latharna made two more low-flying passes then flew straight at Derek. At the last second, she lifted, came around again, and set down on his right shoulder.

Isobel expected Derek to try and throw off the falcon with her sharp claws. Instead, he wrapped his wet shirt around his wrist and held his arm up for Latharna. The falcon hopped over to the shirt and allowed Derek to stroke her breast.

“That’s a good bird,” he said and turned his gaze to the Grahams. “I’ve come to tell you the whereabouts of Sir and Lady Ogilvie and to speak to you of a plan to reunite them with their son.”