Sutherland's Secret (10 page)

As soon as Eleanor entered Brice’s bedchamber with the pot of honey and the clean linens in her hand, she knew something had changed.

Her lips still tingled from his kiss, and her body was still heated and yearning, but his cool look gave her a warning. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly she couldn’t have a relationship with him. It was far too dangerous to both of them—not to mention to her heart. And yet she wanted him to kiss her again. She’d never been kissed like that by even her husband. Her body had never responded in that way to a mere kiss.

She laid out the honey and linens. The silence between them was thick and awkward. She hated that they’d lost the intimacy of not only the kiss but the banter as well. She enjoyed talking to him, exchanging barbs and sarcastic comments.

“You can lay back,” she said, because he was sitting up straight and looking uncomfortable.

He lay back but kept his wary gaze on what she was doing. “How did ye come to know how to remove a ball from a person?” he asked.

She was glad he was talking, at least, but she had hoped to avoid this particular discussion. After smearing the honey on his wound, impressed that he didn’t utter a sound even though it must hurt, she sat back and looked at him.

His dark blond hair was combed straight back and fell to waves on his shoulders. There was a dusting of darker blond along his chest that arrowed down to disappear in the bedsheets. His light blue gaze was serious and determined. Just moments before, it had been filled with desire.

“I tended the wounded and ill soldiers when I first came to Scotland.”

“English soldiers?”

She winced at the coldness of his tone. If only she could turn back the clock and tell her husband that she wouldn’t accompany him to Scotland. But at the time, it had been such an honor that he had been chosen to serve under Cumberland. And it was common for the wives to join their husbands. She’d planned to stay in Edinburgh while Charles went on to Aberdeen, but he had never made it that far, and instead Eleanor had gone to Fort Augustus, where Cumberland had set up his headquarters after Culloden and where she had become a prisoner.

“Yes. English soldiers,” she said. She grabbed the linens and folded them, then pressed them to the wound. Brice hissed in a breath. “It looks clean. There’s no sign of infection,” she said. “Here, hold them in place while I wrap this length of linen around you.”

He held the padding while Eleanor tried to wrap the long linen around him. Too late, she realized her error. She would have to lean over him and have him roll toward her to get it under him.

Quickly she drew back. His blue eyes followed her movements with interest. There was no way around it unless he called someone in to help her.

“Roll toward me,” she said, trying to be as professional as she could.

He obliged but with a twinkle in his eyes. She ignored it and hurriedly leaned over him, very aware that her breasts were pressed against his arm and that the touch ignited her skin. To her mortification, her nipples hardened. The edge of the linen slipped from her fumbling fingers, and she had to lean farther over him to fish it out of the bedclothes, causing her engorged nipples to rub against his arm.

A tingling sensation began deep in her belly and washed over her, making her weak and wanting between her legs. She swallowed as she wrapped the linen around his back, taking care not to look at the hard muscles that rippled below his skin.

She sat back. “Roll the other way.”

He didn’t move, and finally Eleanor had no choice but to look at him. He was still holding the padding, but his eyes had deepened to a dark sapphire, filled with the unmistakable lust that no doubt was mirrored in her own gaze.

“Ach, Ella. What am I to do with ye?”

She licked her lips, but before she could even respond, he had grabbed her shoulders with both of his hands, lifted her up, and sat her on his hips.

She froze, because she was sitting directly on the most massive erection.

Brice leaned against the pillow, closed his eyes, and hissed in a breath. Whether it was from the pain in his shoulder or the fact that she was sitting very intimately on top of his engorged penis, she didn’t know. What she did know was that his erection was rubbing her in places that sparked small fires inside her belly. She tried very, very hard not to move.

Brice had other thoughts, for he lifted his hips, and they both groaned at the same time. Dear Lord, this was sinful—but so wonderful.

Brice grabbed her hips. Her skirts were rucked up and her knees poked out. He lifted his hips again and gasped. There were at least two layers of bedclothes between them, and whatever Brice was wearing. She tried not to think that he wasn’t wearing anything. She felt the long, hard length of him pressed against her, rubbing her in a place that had never been touched by anyone but her. Charles had never even ventured down there.

Brice began moving in a slow rhythm that had her throwing her head back and clutching his wrists at her waist. The bedclothes bunched up beneath her. That, coupled with his inflamed member, made her lose all reason. There was nothing but the incredible feeling between her legs.

She pressed down as he surged up. He moaned, his eyes clenched tight, and the tendons in his neck stood out. Her eyes drifted closed and she gave herself up to the exquisite sensation.

“Eleanor.” He groaned. “I can’t…stop.”

She tightened her hold on his wrists. “Don’t.” She would die if he stopped now. She was so close to something wonderful, something magnificent.

And then she was there. She threw her head back and arched her back as the wave she’d been riding broke all over her. The sensation coalesced into a ball of such magnificent splendor that she lost it and cried out, humping his fully enlarged cock.

His hold on her hips tightened, and he began bucking underneath her until he, too, cried out, lifting his hips high to grind into her.

In the ensuing silence she could hear nothing but their ragged breathing. She had collapsed on his chest, unable to move. The place between her legs was tender and inflamed.

His hands slid from her hips to her waist and back down, caressing her languidly.

After a while she slowly pushed away from him and swiped the hair out of her eyes. “Oh, my.”

He looked up at her with half-closed lids, a smile playing around his lips. “I do no’ believe I’ve ever done it that way before.”

“No. I can safely say the same. Oh no!” His wound was bleeding. They’d ripped some of the stitches out with their…activities.

She reached toward the wound, but Brice captured her hand and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Never mind that. It’s the best wound I’ve ever earned.”

She looked at him in astonishment, then laughed while he continued to kiss her knuckles. They fell silent as they looked at each other. What had they just done? Made a complicated situation more complicated, that was what.

“Brice—”

He surged forward and kissed her on the mouth, his lips hot and demanding as his hands roamed her body. Beneath her, she felt him stir again, and her own body responded in kind. She took his face between her hands and lifted off him to deepen their kiss. She was breathless with wanting, shocked that she could feel this way so soon after.

She knew what the problem was. He’d never entered her, and she was desperate to be filled with him, to feel him move inside of her. She wanted it so badly that she could barely see straight.

His hands cupped her breasts through the linen of her gown. He thumbed her swollen nipples, causing her to gasp into his lips.

“I want to be inside ye,” he whispered. “God almighty, Ella, but you undo me.”

She grabbed at the bedclothes, as eager as he. She was right: He wore nothing beneath the bedsheets but the skin he was born in. His erection lay heavy and swollen on his stomach. Eleanor hiked up her skirts while Brice took his penis in his hand and raised it for her to slide onto.

She closed her eyes and sighed as he filled her with his long, hard length. For a long moment she remained still, reveling in the sensation of him inside of her. Absently she wondered where this woman had come from; Eleanor had never, ever acted like this. Charles had always come to her at night, once a week, and they had made love in the dark, never fully removing their clothes. When the deed was done, he would leave her to clean up and go to sleep, and she would always wonder if there wasn’t more to it. There had to be. Charles seemed to get pleasure out of it, but she never received the same pleasure.

Now she knew there was definitely something more to it.

Brice reached between her legs and rubbed that hardened nub between her folds. She about came off the bed. The sensation was astonishing, a bit embarrassing, and altogether glorious. She cried out. He began moving inside her, groaning with each thrust as he continued to rub her.

The climax came swiftly and unexpectedly. Her eyes flew open and collided with the deep blue of his.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She pressed her lips together, knowing if she didn’t, she would scream his name over and over, and she certainly didn’t want the entire castle knowing what they were doing. Small whimpers escaped as his fingers moved more swiftly and expertly against her and his hips pumped harder, slamming into her.

“Let it go, Ella.”

The wave crashed into her, making everything go numb except the feeling between her legs. She slid up and down his member, riding it and holding on for dear life.

Brice cried out and quickly plucked her off him so he could shoot his seed outside of her.

Eleanor rolled off him to land in a heap at his side. She gulped for air, her entire body tingling, her insides clenching down in the aftershock. Brice was just as boneless beside her, his chest heaving in an effort to draw in breath.

“What was that?” she asked between breaths.

“The best damn coupling I’ve ever experienced.”

She buried her face in the bed and smiled, inordinately pleased that she’d given him the best coupling of his life.

He stroked her back and sighed.

“I have to take care of your shoulder,” she said, her words muffled by the mattress.

“Ye could do what ye want with me and there’d nothing I could do about it. I dare say I won’t be able to move for a sennight.”

“I should probably stitch it up again.”

“Nay. Just wrap it up. It will heal on its own.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’ve been shot enough times to know this?”

“Nay. No’ shot, but a few dagger wounds. One broadsword.”

Eleanor shook her head and pushed up off the bed, wondering if she would be able to move for a sennight herself. She rounded the bed and once again had Brice press the pad of linen to the wound. Once again she leaned over him to wrap it around him, but this time she shot him a look before she did.

“No’ to worry. I’ll no’ grab ye this time.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, but he didn’t move, and she managed to finally the get the bandage around him.

“I have to leave now.”

Alarm flashed in his eyes. “Leave where?”

“To the great hall. It’s time for the evening meal.”

He looked toward the window. “No’ for a while yet.”

She hadn’t told him that she served in the hall; frankly she had no interest in telling him. It was her business, and she was going to be late if she didn’t leave now. “Nevertheless, I’m going. I’ll have someone bring a tray up in a bit.”

He grasped her hand. “Ye bring the tray up.”

She shook her head. “I have things to do. Someone will bring it up.”

His brows came together in a thunderous expression. “What things?”

She extricated her hand from his. “Things. Get some sleep.”

“I’m no’ tired. What are ye no’ telling me, Ella?”

She liked that he called her Ella. It lent an intimacy to them.

“I’m not telling you anything. You’re too untrusting.”

He laid his head against the pillow and eyed her, but she wouldn’t say any more, and she walked out and headed for the kitchen so she could serve his men their evening meal.

“Guard!”

When Brice got no immediate response, he bellowed louder, then winced as it pulled his wound.

Colin sauntered in. “Aye?”

“Where’s my guard?” Brice asked, pushing himself to a sitting position and swinging his legs off the bed.

“Whoa.” Colin lurched toward Brice as if to catch him. “What in the bloody hell are ye doing?”

“Going to the great hall. Help me up.” He raised his hand for Colin to take.

Colin stood just out of reach. “Eleanor has already instructed that someone bring up yer meal.”

“I don’t want my meal brought up. I want to eat in the great hall.” He stood and swayed. His shoulder pounded with the beat of his heart, and his knees almost gave out. Colin shot a hand out to steady him. “Ye’re daft. Ye canno’ eat in the hall just yet. Ye were shot just yesterday.”

“I know that,” Brice snapped. “But Eleanor is up to something, and I’ll know what it is.”

Colin appeared guarded. “What do ye think she’s up to?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. She’s been very evasive.” Brice thought about what they had done in bed that afternoon. She hadn’t been evasive then. She’d been every boyhood dream he’d ever dreamed come to life. God, but she’d made him come undone. He couldn’t get enough of her and would have been more than happy to spend the next sennight in bed with her. Just thinking of it had his blood heating. Thank the Lord that his shirt covered his manly parts.

“Hand me my kilt,” he breathed through the pain in his shoulder. God’s blood, but getting shot hurt like the devil.

Colin silently handed him his kilt. Brice looked at it and cursed. There was no way he could put it on in his present condition. He couldn’t roll into it like he needed to do. With a growl, he flung it on the floor and headed toward his armoire to dig out a pair of breeches. He rarely wore breeches, but they would be much easier to put on.

Once dressed, he faced Colin. “Let us go.”

“Are ye sure about this?” Colin looked skeptical.

“Very.” Brice headed toward his door on unsteady legs and holding his arm close to his side so he wouldn’t move his shoulder. He faltered when he faced the steep steps into the hall. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, and he suppressed the need to shiver.

“Brice—”

He held up his hand to silence Colin. Ella had been lying about something, and he was going to find out what. Slowly he marched down the steps, gritting his teeth with each jostle of his arm. By now it was on fire; he was almost certain it was bleeding again.

When he’d been making love to Ella, it hadn’t bothered him at all. Or if it had, he hadn’t felt it, being far too concerned with other things.

He entered the hall, and almost all conversation stopped as the men and women looked at him. He tried to grin but feared he’d failed as he made his way to his seat. He didn’t sit at the head of the table, as most clan leaders did. He liked to be among his men, and to converse with them as he ate, so he sat wherever there happened to be an open seat. Luckily tonight there was one close to the steps, so he didn’t have to walk far. He was never so grateful for that.

Colin sat across from him and looked at him closely. Conversations resumed and the serving girls came out with platters of food. The thought of eating didn’t sit well with his stomach, but he smiled at the girl as she placed a plate of food in front of him. He looked around at the tables, trying to find Ella, but he didn’t see her. He frowned.

Hannah was at the entrance to the kitchen, directing the girls where to go. One of the girls exited the kitchen, laden with a heaping tray.

Brice froze. He knew that blond hair and that face. He knew that gown as well. He’d given a passing thought to it this afternoon, but other thoughts and deeds had taken over, and he’d forgotten to ask why she was in a plain linen gown when she had an entire wardrobe of his wife’s old gowns to choose from.

Now he knew.

She was serving his men.

He pushed himself up to stand, his fury masking the pain in his shoulder. He unerringly marched toward her, weaving around the benches and the people and the serving girls. Colin stayed close behind, but he ignored his friend. He grasped Ella’s shoulder and spun her around.

With a gasp, she dropped her tray of food. Her eyes widened. “Brice. What are you doing out of bed?”

“What are ye doing serving in my hall?”

She looked around at the people, who had stopped eating and were watching avidly. “I’m helping.”

“Helping?” he nearly bellowed. “Helping whom? What?”

“Shhh.” She looked around nervously again, then dropped to her knees and began cleaning up the food he had caused her to spill. Brice lowered himself to his knees as well, hissing at the pain.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she said, not looking at him as she picked up the crockery.

“Ye were lying to me. I had to find out why.”

She glanced at him quickly. “I wasn’t lying. I just didn’t tell you.”

“Why?”

She stopped cleaning and looked at him. “Why? Because I knew how you would react.”

“And rightly so.”

She finished cleaning and stood up, lifting her tray with her. Brice stood as well. “Ye’ll put that away and come eat with me.”

She nestled the tray on her hip. “No.”

He raised a brow. “No?”

“I will eat with you if you’d like to wait until the meal is over and everything is cleaned up. In the meantime, I have a job to do.”

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. She turned back to him with a sigh.

“Ye do no’ have a job to do. Ye’re a guest of mine. Guests don’t serve.”

“Well, this one does. Now go sit down before you topple over.”

“I’m not going to top—”

But she was gone, weaving through the tables faster than he could catch her. He stood there watching her, speechless.

Eleanor’s heart was pounding when she slammed her tray down, causing the broken crockery to rattle.

“He’ll no’ be happy,” Hannah said.

“I don’t care.”

“Ye should.”

Eleanor put her hands on her hips and glared at Hannah. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault that she was angry. And it really wasn’t Brice’s. She was just angry at the situation, at the fact that she was here in the Highlands, at the mercy of Brice Sutherland because Blackwood wouldn’t give up his obsession with her.

She swiped a hand over her face. “My apologies, Hannah.”

“No need to apologize to me,” her friend said with a smile. “I’m enjoying watching Sutherland suffer.”

“He’s not suffering.”

“Oh, but he is. He reminds me of Lachlan when I ignored him for a fortnight before we were wed. He was all kinds of furious. It was lovely.”

Eleanor smiled. “And what’s he suffering over? A ‘guest’ who’s serving his people?”

Hannah eyed her. “If ye do no’ know, I’ll no’ be the one telling ye.” She walked off, leaving Eleanor confused and still angry.

She grabbed another tray and finished serving. Brice was not in the hall, and for that she was relieved, but she didn’t feel the satisfaction of working that she usually had, because she knew there was going to be a confrontation when she was finished.

She helped clean up even after Hannah told her she didn’t need to. She
did
need to, for her own peace of mind and her own pride.

She marched up the steps, weary, her feet hurting, and paused at her own door. She wanted nothing more than to fall onto her bed and sleep. Instead she passed her door and entered the next one.

Brice was in bed, sitting up, the covers pulled to his waist. He had put a shirt on and was glaring at her.

She stopped outside of his reach, not quite trusting him. Oh, she knew at this point that he would never hurt her. She was more worried that he would use his hands and that magical tongue of his to break down her defenses.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and without anger.

“I can hear you fine from here.”

“Come here, Eleanor. I’ll no’ be yelling across the room.”

She took a few steps closer. “You’ll not be yelling at all.”

He looked at her solemnly. “Why are ye serving in my hall?”

“Because I need something to do.”

“Do what ye would do at home.”

She raised a brow. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t know. Stitching or something.”

“I need to contribute to your household.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “My guests do no’ serve my men.”

She lifted her chin. “I can’t keep taking from you without giving something in return. Your serving girls need help, and I’m good at it.”

“I’ll no’ argue that they need help. We’ve lost a lot of Scotsmen because of the damned English.”

Eleanor knew that the losses at Culloden had been great, but she wasn’t aware that they had lost women as well as men. She’d never really questioned why there weren’t enough serving girls.

“Ye are a lady, Eleanor.”

She loved his accent, could listen to it all day long. What he said sounded like “Ye rrrr a leeedy.”

“Not anymore.”

His brows shot up.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m not a lady. I can’t be a lady anymore.”

“And why is that?”

He’d told her he would have her story, and she’d held off on telling him, but he needed to know. It was only right that he knew whom he was harboring and why.

“Come here, Eleanor.” She noticed that he’d stopped calling her Ella, and she felt the loss of her nickname.

He patted a spot on the bed beside him. She sat next to him, facing him, and curled her fingers in her lap. Brice took her hands and unfolded her fingers to hold them in his. “Tell me why ye are no’ a lady any longer.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I can’t return to London, not with Blackwood looking for me.”

“Surely he can’t search for ye there if ye are here.”

“He won’t be searching for me, but he’ll have people watching my parents’ house, waiting for me.”

“And why does he want ye, lass?”

Eleanor looked down on their joined hands but didn’t see them. Instead she saw her husband, Charles. She pictured what he’d looked like the last time she saw him, and tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away because she knew she wouldn’t be able to tell her story if she allowed the tears to come.

“My husband was Charles Hirst, the Earl of Glendale. He’d served in the English army. Cumberland asked him to go to Scotland to be his colonel in the Third Footguard. It was a great thrill for Charles. And for me. I was excited to follow him to Scotland. I’d heard great things about Edinburgh.”

She blinked, remembering the excitement, the thrill, of moving their household to Edinburgh. The pride she’d felt that her husband had accomplished something so wonderful.

Brice was rubbing the top of her hand with his thumbs, watching her with serious eyes that were almost navy in the light of the candles and the fire.

“I apologize. I know your feelings about the English soldiers.”

“Aye,” he said softly. “But I want to hear yer story, so I will endeavor to keep my thoughts to myself.”

She smiled and looked down at their hands. For some reason it was easier to tell her story if she wasn’t looking at him.

“First I think it’s important to tell you about myself, because that plays into this dreadful tale. I am the only daughter of the Marquis of Hopewell. I have one brother who is quite a bit older than I am. We were close but not that close. I was spoiled. Anything I asked for, I received. I never knew hunger or discomfort. I was the apple of my father’s eye, and even my mother found herself hard-pressed to deny me anything.”

“Ach, lass—”

“No. When I came up here to tell you my story, I promised myself I would tell you the truth, and that’s the truth. I’m not proud of what I was. I’m a bit embarrassed by it. I never really thought about anyone but myself.”

“That’s no’ how ye are now.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I can’t help but wonder what made ye change.”

“Scotland. Fort Augustus. Blackwood.”

“Ye were at Fort Augustus?” he asked in surprise.

Eleanor blew out a breath. “Oh, yes. I was at Fort Augustus.” Fort Augustus was the headquarters of Cumberland. And the prison of Cumberland. “A few weeks after all of the officers arrived in Edinburgh, Lady Dinsmore hosted a ball in our honor. I was excited. It was just like London. Charles was excited as well. He hoped that Cumberland would be there, because he wanted to introduce me to the duke.”

“And did ye meet the Butcher?”

Eleanor grinned up at him, well aware of the Scots nickname for the Duke of Cumberland. “I thought you were going to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“I said I would endeavor to, but when ye speak of the Butcher, I canno’ help myself.”

“I don’t blame you. I agree with you. The man is horrible, and what he’s done to the Scots is atrocious.”

“Enough of that. Tell me about this ball ye were excited to attend.”

“Charles and I attended, and it was everything I had hoped it would be. The men looked so fine in their dress uniforms, so dashing.”

Brice made a noise in his throat, and Eleanor shot him a look from under her lids. “I’m endeavoring, lass.”

“That was the first time I’d met Blackwood. He was just as handsome and endearing as the other officers. I didn’t think much about our dance. We talked. I flirted because that was what I always did at balls. No one ever took me seriously.”

“But Blackwood did.”

“Yes. I didn’t realize it at the time. We’d come across each other occasionally. He was always polite and respectful. Easy to talk to. I liked him. Not in the wrong way. He was nice, and he didn’t have a wife, and I felt that he was lonely. Maybe I spent a little more time conversing with him than I should have. I don’t know.”

“He took yer attentions the wrong way.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Of course ye didn’t. Ye were just being yer kind self.”

“I was being my naive self.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “There’s everything wrong with that when it costs your husband his life.”