Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (12 page)

“Will ye… will ye tell me what plagues ye, lass?”

She shook her head, face still buried against him. “’Tis no matter.”

He clenched his teeth again as that sense of powerlessness threatened to drown him. How to comfort the lass? His experience with women was limited to bedding and flirtations. The only woman he ever truly spoke with was Lorna and, with the clan war, he’d barely seen her of late.

She finally retreated, rubbed the end of her nose and offered him a weak smile. He returned it with a tilted one of his own.

“All is well,” she assured.

Ach, as if Katelyn was the one trying to comfort him. He was the warrior, the man. The one who should be looking after her, not the other way around. 

Her lips curved upwards as she viewed him. “Truly. Ye dinnae need to regard me so.”

He scowled. “How do I regard ye?”

Katelyn tilted her head. “I know not. Yer brow furrows,” she reached up and skimmed a finger across his forehead, leaving a blaze of fire in its wake, “as if ye are trying to solve some great riddle.”

Letting his scowl drop, he snatched those fingers, making her gasp—toying with fire. And he knew it well. Yet he could not stop. “Ye are a riddle, Katie. I thought I had the measure of ye on our journey but it seems I dinnae.”

“I am no riddle.” Colour sat high in her cheeks. Her gaze dropped before meeting his boldly once more.

“And yet one moment ye are bold and the next ye are as coy as a young maiden.”

She let slip a startled giggle. “I dinnae think I have ever been accused of being coy before.”

A grin cracked his face. “It pleases me to see ye smile, lass.” His words surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to tell her that, but it appeared he lost control of his mouth with Katelyn around. Mayhap it was his need to understand her that drove him or perhaps the desire eating at his gut—a great gnawing ache—made him forget that he did not converse with women.

“Why?”

He blinked.

“Why does it please ye to see me smile?”

“Ye have smiled little these past days and said even less.”

Katelyn clasped her hands in front of her and glanced down. “Mayhap I am just a quiet lass.”

Finn arched a brow. “Ye cannae fool me. We spoke much on our journey here, remember?”

“Ye mean
I
did.” That teasing smile arrived on her lips again drawing his attention to the lush pink succulence.

“Aye.”

It was true. He had grown used to her incessant questions and gentle observations. She’d quizzed him on everything—from the surrounding countryside to more personal questions. He told her of Morgann and Alana, and all his kin. He did not allow her to dig any deeper, however. How could he bear the pity in her gaze as he spoke of Alice when he deserved none? Still, she surely knew more of him than any other woman he’d bedded.

Ach, back to bedding! He curled his fist and his groin tightened yet again. Was he to live in a constant state of arousal around Katelyn?

She turned to peer out over the castle wall, hands pressed to the stone. And clearly unaware of his inner turmoil. Katelyn sighed. “I confess, I dinnae enjoy being closeted away much. With the siege, I spent much time hiding behind castle walls… I…” Her voice cracked.

Finn had no choice but to jump to her rescue. He would not see her distressed. “Ye prefer to be on the other side of the wall?”

With a small smile, she nodded, gaze still attached to the horizon. “Aye. Bute is beautiful when not at war. I would give much to be there again, out on the hills or looking over the sea.”

“I am sorry.” He laid a hand over hers as it rested on the stone.

“Dinnae be. Ye rescued me remember?”

“Would that I could return ye. I would gladly take ye to the hills or to the sea.”

“I should like that. It seems I am more at ease with sleeping in the wild than in a fine bed. Alas, I dinnae make a fine noble woman.”

Sleeping in the wild? Her words reminded him of a soft body beneath fur. Of it tucked against him. He traced the curve of her breast with his gaze, breaths thickening.

“Ye make a fine noble woman, Katie,” he said roughly.
Too fine.

He swallowed as she drew her hand from underneath his and turned to face him. Her eyes widened. Did she see the need flaring in him? He felt it. Like flaming logs, lust burned bright inside. The thud of his heart grew sickening while she stared on. He saw her throat work, the flutter of her pulse. Her breasts pressed against her bodice, straining the front laces and he flexed his fingers as he imagined them upon those laces, drawing them out.

Behind him, the chatter of men and footsteps sounded, snapping his attention away. Finn let his shoulders drop. Relieved? Mayhap. Disappointed? Likely. He shook his head at himself and watched as the men left the hall and returned to their stations.

“I shall take my leave,” he said brusquely, dropping his head briefly. When he raised his gaze, he saw Katelyn’s startled expression and realised he’d been too abrupt. But he had to escape. The draw of this woman was too powerful. Already he cared too much for her welfare. Before long he’d be spending his days and nights worrying for her and what then?

Nothing. For she would be in another man’s arms soon. Even if she was not to be wed, he could not care for such a lass. Better to stay alone than risk pain again.

Hastily, he descended the inner steps and pushed his way past another man, mumbling an apology as he made for the hall. He had need of ale. And quickly.

***

From her view point at the very top of the castle, Tèile let her wings drop. That had been close. Yet again. Mayhap those dreams weren’t such a good idea. She hadn’t gifted Finn with any since he met Katelyn but it seemed he still dreamed of her. Now she was fighting a battle against their desire. And in spite of Catriona’s reservations, it was clear the woman wanted Finn just as badly.

But desire was not enough. This needed to be a love match. If they indulged too quickly and at the wrong time, Tèile’s carefully crafted plans would fall apart. If she was to get fate back on the right path, she’d have to watch over these two very closely. What should have been a slow and natural courtship now blazed with need and anxiety. Catriona’s disguise did not help, nor did the impending arrival of Laird Gillean. Catriona should have met Finn on Bute as herself when he came for Katelyn, but alas, her storms had convinced the Norsemen to bring forward their invasion campaign. Curses.

Of course, she could delay the laird, but that would mean more magic and more trickery. How she hated having her hands tied, but she had learned the hard way not to meddle any more than necessary. Should she throw things out of balance yet again, she may never return to the fae world. Tèile kicked a tiny pebble from the ramparts and huffed.

This human world was too harsh, too cold for a green faery like her. All grey stone and swords and fighting. She longed to be feasting with her friends and enjoying nature. Tèile smoothed a hand across the stone and admitted to herself that there was some warmth in the human world. Alana and Morgann had taught her that. But would Finn and Catriona do the same?

***

Smoke from the candles and the smell of crisp, clean hay welcomed Finn as he entered the stables. He inhaled deeply and made his way over to his mount. She whinnied in greeting. He put a hand to her muzzle and grinned.

“At least ye dinnae cause me any problems, Dìleas. Ye are one lass I dinnae need to worry for.”

His mind hazy from ale, he rubbed down her flanks as she pushed against him. It should have soothed him. Time with his faithful horse usually did. She’d seen him through battles and long journeys, and had never faltered, never become ill or weak. If he could only find a woman like that.

Finn scowled. Katelyn had never faltered on their journey. But he didn’t want Katelyn. Something had her upset and it beleaguered him. If he worried over her when he barely knew her, what would happen if he let her work any deeper into his thoughts?

He clenched his fist. Not that he would.

Giving Dìleas one last pat, he strolled to the end of the stables and leaned against the wooden frame. Torches flickered in their mounts and the distant hoot of an owl punctuated the quiet shuffle of men patrolling the walls. High up in the keep a golden glow emanated from Katelyn's chamber. The shutters were still open. Did she look out and think of him? Did raw, painful need heat her body too? All he had to do was think of her—her upturned lips, pearly skin and raven hair—and he grew hard.

Finn slapped a palm against the wood. This would not do. He’d been content with life before Katelyn. He had his kinsmen and his duties, his simple cottage at Glencolum and the company of the occasional maid in his bed. He wanted for nothing and that was how he liked it.

Teeth clenched, he turned away from the taunting light of her window and stepped into the nearest stall. He adjusted his arousal with a hiss and slumped onto a hay bale. Leaning his head against the wood, he pressed a breath out and closed his eyes. His lip tingled at the memory of her fingers skimming over it. What he would not give to feel those fingers on his other scars. She would touch him boldly, he decided, while looking at him with a coy expression on her face. With her lip tucked between her teeth, green eyes glistening with curiosity and desire, those gentle fingers would trace his body. 

The ache between his thighs became too much and he wrapped a hand around his manhood, nearly groaning aloud at the pleasure suffused with pain. His rough palm was no match for how Katelyn’s fingers likely felt but he had little other choice. With strong movements, he recalled the flash of a thigh or a breast as he enclosed her in that fur. He imagined parting those thighs and losing himself to her.

For he surely would lose himself in her sweet heat as she called his name and begged for more. Powerless as he was, he would give her his all and her explosive response might be the end for him.

Sweat pricked his forehead when he worked harder, the sensations building. Ach, how he needed the taste of her lips, to hear her ragged breaths mingling with his own. Finn gripped the straw while his climax built. In his mind, he was lost in Katelyn’s body, spilling himself in her and claiming her as his and not some other man’s.

“Not another man’s,” he growled to himself as he jerked and his release swallowed him.

Gathering his breath, he lifted his head and opened his eyes before slumping back again. He did not feel nearly satisfied enough. The twist in his gut told him he’d only find satisfaction with one woman and she was to be another’s. And there was little to be done about it.

Chapter Five

Catriona took a turn around the keep, pausing to admire a scattering of wildflowers. She crouched and picked a few blooms. Supressing a yawn, she admired the tiny yellow flower. Fatigue made her head ache and her mouth dry. Sleep did not come easily since coming to the castle. Dreams of blood and violence, of rough hands, haunted her. Occasionally they were broken by visions of a fair haired warrior but that left her aching and wanting. Who knew which dream was better?

“Pretty,” she murmured as she pressed the bloom against her lips.

“Pretty indeed,” a deep male voice came.

Catriona’s heart stuttered when she turned her head to come face to face with leather boots and great sturdy legs. Her gaze followed them up and up until she reached Finn’s face. The large man smiled down at her, making her stomach do a tiny dance. Hastening to her feet, she swiped her hands down her skirts and dipped her head.

“Good morrow.”

Her gown squeezed the air from her. And it was not like when her terrors consumed her. Normally that left her chilled. Nay, as she studied him, his wide shoulders and his confident stance, her skin grew hot and clammy. He stared at her and she stared back but for the life of her she couldn’t look away. Those blue eyes scorched her very soul.

“May I?” He opened a hand.

Startled, it took her an instant to decipher what he wanted. She dropped the flower into his palm, marvelling at the sight of something so delicate against those large, blunt hands. His fingers brushed her hair aside first, sending a tremor of anticipation through her. His warm gaze lingered on her, trapping her. She willed her limbs to move, to shy away from him, but they remained stiff. Rough fingers slid the stem of the bloom behind her ear. He took a moment to adjust it. Catriona found herself aware of every slight touch and it made her tremble. Her breaths were loud and rasping in her ears.

“There,” he announced and stepped back. “Very pretty.”

“Thank ye,” she whispered.

She shook her head, heat burning at her cheeks under his intense look. No man had ever looked at her quite like that. While the looks she garnered normally ran from uncertainty to salaciousness, his bordered on… on indecent. And it made her body clench in an utterly unfamiliar way. She recalled the solid length of his arousal flattened against her and the way it made her feel. Two days had passed since then yet it excited her even now.

He broke the connection as Logan called his name from behind. He dipped his head and gave her a slanted grin. “If ye’ll excuse me, Katie. ‘Tis time for weapons practice and I must show these men how ‘tis done.”