Terri Brisbin (11 page)

“Aye?” She blinked up at him, her dark hair beginning to dry in the warmth of the fire’s blaze.

But his gaze flicked to her mouth and the enticement of her soft lips.

“I would know if you taste as sweet as I remember.” Relinquishing her hand, he cupped the back of her neck, titling her face to just the right angle. He lowered his mouth over hers to savor her, his fingers sifting through her hair as he inhaled the damp fragrance of the moors that clung to her skin.

She tasted like heather and moonlight, a combination of natural and exotic, a heady blend of the outdoors and something more darkly sensual. Her lips parted on contact, and for all he knew she had been about to say him nay or protest in some other way. But whatever words she’d been about to speak, they were lost in the onslaught of heat that seemed to roar through them both at the contact. Gavin couldn’t deny the hungry flames that licked over him just because of one simple kiss, and he could feel the temperature rise in Brenna’s skin where he touched her, her throat warming beneath his fingers.

Desire surged for the first time since his wife had died, except this desire lacked the tenderness that had marked his couplings with Aileen. The molten ache that gripped him now was no gentle swell of affection but rather a need sharper than hunger or thirst, an elemental urge.

His hands slid down Brenna’s shoulders, his fingers sinking into her worn gown to savor the feel of her subtle feminine curves beneath. He followed the line of her slender waist to the slight flare of her hips and told himself he could touch her no more. He needed to pull away. Had to assert some control over himself, over this moment, before he hauled Brenna
to his chamber in spite of his earlier promise that she would have her own quarters.

But just then, she sighed against him, her whole body easing ever so slightly. The gentle exhale whispered over his senses, a soft feminine acquiescence that seemed so at odds with this fierce woman ready to take on her dead husband’s bloodthirsty clan no matter what the cost.

Which reminded him she wouldn’t even be here now, would never allow him such a liberty, if she hadn’t been desperate to save her children.

“Hellfire.” He backed up a step, knowing he could not keep from touching her without the benefit of some space between them. “I am—” too cursed bold “—sorry. I have nae excuse other than I have been too long alone. I promise I willna—” devour you whole. Ravish every last delicious inch of you. “—make so bold with yer person again unless ye wish it.”

She nodded curtly, her straight posture bearing no sign of his kiss although her lips remained enticingly full. Red. Swollen.

His hunger for her had not abated, but he would not make the mistake of touching her again tonight.

“I am grateful for your assistance, Gavin of Blackburn, and for your restraint.” She dipped her head in a display of courtesy that did little to diminish the proud nobility she wore like a regal cloak. “If you will show me to my chamber, I will bid you good night.”

Visions of escorting Brenna—his wife—to any chamber containing a bed teased his senses for a long moment before he shook off the unwanted desire. He had not expected his self-imposed year without a woman to have wrought such a sharp appetite.

“My bailiff will show you to your room.” He shouted for Kean to bring some balm for the scratches on her cheek even as he backed out of the hall, desperate to draw a breath that did not contain a hint of her scent. “I swear I will win back
yer sons, Brenna, and ye willna be sorry we tied our fortunes to one another.”

And although he meant every word, he half wondered if he had made a mistake following his first instinct to wed her. They had been handfast for less than an hour and already things were not proceeding as he had planned.

Brenna followed Kean toward the stairs to the gallery, her thin gown outlining her every graceful movement as the fabric molded to her body. “That is one promise I intend to hold you to, my lord. I bid you good night, Gavin, and may you sleep well until the morning.”

Gavin followed her progress with his eyes, knowing that he would not sleep so much as a minute with the memory of their kiss still burning through him. And although thoughts of his new wife would plague him like the devil until he had the pleasure of her in his bed, Gavin consoled himself with the certainty that he wouldn’t have long to wait to make their handfast into a true marriage. With the promise of shared kisses like that, the heat between he and Brenna would spill over into a conflagration all too soon.

T
he pale rays of early spring sunlight had scarcely crept into the sky the next morning when Brenna made her way to the stables.

Her muscles protesting every step after days spent on horseback, she welcomed the cold rush of brisk air against her cheeks to keep her alert. Hugging her thin cloak about her shoulders, Brenna savored the last bit of warmth the garment retained. She’d slept deeply in Gavin’s guest chamber after they’d parted, her tired body welcoming the soft kiss of crisp, clean linens against her. The scratches on her temple had been soothed by the balm Gavin had ordered for her, the angry cuts cooling almost instantly.

Too bad her dreams had been filled with images that were anything but cooling. A good mother would have thought of Callum and Donovan, the precious babes she missed so much. But no matter how much she wanted to conjure their dear faces, her wicked thoughts had strayed to visions of Gavin Blackburn. The man’s kisses had awakened a sleeping heat she had not realized resided within her anymore.

Now, she peered into the stables, her gaze lingering on the horse she’d ridden hard all the way from her English prison.
The poor mount she’d been given upon release was a tired old field mare that should be enjoying a sunny pasture somewhere, not picking her way through frost-covered Highland mountains. Still, her only other option was to saddle one of Blackburn’s horses.

As she debated what to do, a male voice startled her from behind.

“I didna expect to see ye awake this morn, Lady Brenna.” Gavin’s deep, masculine voice rumbled right through her, rattling her confidence when she needed to be strong. Invincible.

“I would not miss this first chance to see my sons.” She pretended not to hear his growl of protest as she plowed ahead. “But I must admit I hate the idea of asking my tired mare to make another journey so soon after her last. Might I impose upon your stable just this once, my lord husband?”

She’d hoped reminding him of their handfasted status would buy her some leniency in an inevitable argument this morning, but the word merely reminded her that she’d willingly entered into wifely servitude once again, if only for one year’s time. Even if Gavin honored his promise not to pursue an intimacy she did not seek, she was still subject to his rule. She’d left her father’s household to be governed by a husband she had reviled, then moved from her Kirkpatrick confinement to English captivity. She’d thought to gain her freedom when her captors had finally released her, but she’d quickly traded one imprisonment for another by becoming another man’s wife.

“Take yer pick of horseflesh, wife, but dinna think to ride with me this morn.” He moved to saddle his own horse, the thick muscles of his arms managing the heavy leather with ease. “I ride into the stronghold of one of Scotland’s most formidable families to steal away their heirs. Even if they were an honorable clan, the task would be risky, but we both know the Kirkpatricks are as wily and treacherous as they come. Ye willna put yourself in such danger.”

Anger welled up inside her, a hot tide of resentment she could do little to suppress. Yanking another saddle from the wall, Brenna wrestled the leather toward a black Arabian whose back she could almost reach, unlike the huge warhorses that filled most of the stalls.

“I asked for help regaining my sons, Gavin. I didn’t ask for you to take over the task completely.”

Easing the saddle from her hands, Gavin settled it gently atop the horse. “Nevertheless, ye need to consider yer limitations.” He eyed her meaningfully as he adjusted the stirrups for her. “Ye may be an uncommonly brave lass, but ye canna do everything yerself.”

“I can do this.” She reached for the saddle to pull herself up onto her mount, the earthy scent of horses and fresh hay wafting on the morning breeze.

Gavin imprisoned her wrist, holding her steady. “Ye recall where yer recklessness landed ye three years ago? ’Tis an admirable thing ye did to warn our king of yer husband’s treason, but was the cost worth what ye gained?”

“I kept our king’s head attached to his shoulders.” She blinked up at him, hardly believing he would dare to suggest she’d made a mistake in riding to Robert that day. “As one of his most trusted knights, I would think you of all people would have appreciated the warning of an ambush. Has it occurred to you that I may have saved your ungrateful neck as well as his?”

A wry smile curled his lips as he relinquished her hand. “Mayhap ye did. But I would urge ye to recall that in a time of war, ambush is an everyday risk. Sometimes ye would do well to trust others to fulfill their responsibilities instead of needlessly risking yer own lovely neck.”

Her skin still tingling from where he had touched her, Brenna relaxed just a little as she realized he thought she didn’t trust him. Having been endowed with her own share of pride, she could appreciate his. From the tales she’d heard of
combat with the English and Gavin’s prowess with his sword, this man had earned the right to her respect.

“I have every confidence that you will free my sons or else I would never have ridden here to seek your help.” In truth, she’d thought of him the moment she arrived at Montrose Keep to find a new standard flying above the parapets. In her mind, Gavin represented Scots strength at its most fearsome. “But because I have not seen my boys in three long years, I find I cannot wait quietly for you to return in a few days hence. I need to go with you so I can see their faces and hold them in my arms. The memory of them—” her voice caught on a trembling note before she cleared her throat “—it is all that carried me through the last three years.”

Gavin swore softly under his breath. His gaze wandered from her face to the steady spread of sunlight across the sky just outside the stable doors.

“Very well, then.” He strapped his gear to his mount with brusque movements, his frustration evident in every clipped word he uttered. “Ye may ride with my men to Montrose, but ye will wait outside the gates. Do I make myself clear?”

Surprised to have won her battle so easily, Brenna bit back the next round of arguments she had formulated to convince him.

“Yes. Absolutely.” She hugged her cloak tighter about her and wondered if this would be the last time he would grant her any compromise during their year of handfast. “Thank you, Gavin.”

“Dinna thank me.” His tone scraped harshly over her nerves as he bent to lift her atop the horse. “My wife would have given anything to see her own child just once before she died. ’Tis against my better judgment to let you go, but I will allow it out of deference to her.”

Brenna found herself roughly deposited on her mount before Gavin spun on his heel and led both animals from the stable into the weak yellow sunlight bathing the keep. A small force of men awaited him there, mounted and ready to ride.

As she watched Gavin secure extra blankets to his deep chestnut-colored horse, she understood for the first time that their handfast was as unwelcome for him as it was for her. He’d married her to give his keep a lady, but it remained clear no woman would ever take his first wife’s place.

Knowing that should have made it easier for her to go through with her plan to walk away from Gavin after their year together elapsed, but instead, the knowledge pinched her heart with unexpected regret.

As they closed the distance to Montrose Keep, Gavin regretted the need to spend the night on the road. He’d sent his men ahead to scout the Montrose holding, leaving he and Brenna alone for the night.

After everything Brenna had been through the last few years and especially the last few days, she deserved to rest and recover her strength. A cold, damp bed in the woods was no place for a woman in her weakened condition, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, her health surely suffered when she pushed herself the way she did today. Old fears stirred from his first wife’s death.

“Ye shouldna be here,” he reminded her as his eyes searched the landscape for a suitable place to camp until sunrise. Montrose lay only a few more hours ride but it would serve no purpose to arrive at the keep in the middle of the night.

“I believe you’ve already expounded upon that point several times,” she shot back at him, her shoulders achingly erect even after a long day on horseback. Her long brown hair had been woven into loose plaits that bounced on her shoulder in time with the horse’s canter.

“Yer reunion with your sons will be a short one if you catch yer death of cold.” His breath huffed white clouds into the crisp air as he spoke, the sun slowly setting in a purple blaze behind distant hills.

“I have survived worse than a Highland spring, I assure you.” She slowed her horse to a trot as they neared a lightly beaten path into the woods. “Besides, I know something you don’t know about the road to Montrose.”

She turned a surprise smile upon him as he reined in his mount and Gavin’s breath caught in his chest at the unexpected reminder of the carefree young woman she’d once been. She had flirted boldly with him long ago, full of confidence in her girlish wiles and brimming with curiosity where he was concerned. He’d known her father would seek a man with a larger fortune than Gavin possessed back then for his eldest daughter, but that hadn’t stopped him from entertaining thoughts of Brenna for his own. But then Robert the Bruce had put out the call for warriors and Gavin had devoted himself to freeing Scotland.

“Is that right?” He studied her pink cheeks, still hollow from her long captivity, but infused with more color than the night before. “Do ye know of a warmer place to sleep tonight than the cold, hard ground?”

“I explored the terrain all around Montrose Keep during my marriage to Fergus and I am quite certain I know every crofter’s shack and hunter’s cottage within twenty leagues.”

He peered around the silent forest bordering an open meadow, seeing no sign of outbuildings of any kind. “Ye have but to lead the way. Yer bones may nae protest a Highland spring, but mine do. I am more than ready to sit before a warm blaze.”

“This way.” She nudged her horse forward down a side path that led up a low hill. “It is not really a cottage or a shack, but a peculiar old ruin that may have belonged to a hermit or a holy person who sought seclusion. There is a tiny walled garden attached to a crumbling stone edifice that seems to have been built for a dwarf. It is honestly the most strange little ruin I’ve ever seen and I’m rather curious if it is still there.”

They wound up the hill as the sun set, casting long shadows and a last glow of purple light across the land. The bare
trees all around them looked more ominous in the half light, the pattern of their stark branches almost menacing in the dull gloom.

“I see it.” Gavin spotted the slate roof among the trees, the clean angle of the man-made structure the only feature that gave away its presence. The eroded dark stone facade blended in with the trees and dark earth, making the small dwelling as much a part of the landscape as the fallen logs and moss carpet.

An hour later, Gavin had tied their horses and started a fire within the walled garden Brenna had remembered. He had laid out their blankets inside the small structure, although the crumbling dwelling would provide little protection if it rained. But Brenna lingered by the blaze he’d built, picking at the bread and wine he had packed for their journey.

“Did you come here often while you lived at Montrose?” Gavin wished he could have found time to hunt before the sun had set. Brenna’s slender frame would benefit from weeks of hearty meals and he vowed to find a woman to run the kitchens at Blackburn Keep again once they returned home. The meals Kean struggled to prepare over the past year barely tempted his hound, let alone a noblewoman.

“Only when Fergus was plotting against our king,” she scoffed at the memory. “But that put me here at least once a sennight, I suppose. I did not like being anywhere near his treacherous friends so I would bring Callum here for a few hours at a time, and later Donovan, too.”

Night birds called overhead as the wind picked up, whistling through the cracks and hollows in the stone ruins.

“Donovan would have been naught but a babe when last ye saw him.” He tried to envision what her sons would look like and hoped for her sake they’d taken after their mother. Fergus Kirkpatrick—like all his clan—bore a striking resemblance to a boar hog.

“He was a year old and growing bigger by the day, it
seemed.” She smiled, the soft glow of maternal love lighting her face. “I have dreamed of him often, wondering how his features would have changed and shifted as he ages.”

A sharp ache filled him as he thought of his daughter who had never taken her first breath. She’d been perfect, delicately made like her mother, with a head full of dark hair.

“I’m sorry.” Brenna’s quiet words called him from painful memories, comforted him with simple understanding. “I have often regretted the time lost with my children, but I have always known they were healthy and well cared for by my sister until the Kirkpatricks took over Montrose Keep. I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you to lose your wife and your babe at the same time.”

Heat seared Gavin’s eyes for the first time in many moons. He had avoided all discussion of Aileen to prevent the dark pain that came with it.

“It canna be helped.” He’d told himself as much a thousand times and still failed to be comforted by the thought. “Now that we have handfasted, we can think about our children. The Douglases are strong stock, after all. I’m sure any babes you bear will be equally healthy.”

The soft sympathy in Brenna’s green eyes faded, replaced by an inscrutable expression. She nodded stiffly before standing.

“I am sure you are right.” With clipped movements she wrapped the rest of her bread and downed her wine. “If you will excuse me, Gavin, I am more tired from our journey than I thought.”

“Of course.” Gavin stood, reluctant to see her go but grateful she would be able to sleep long and uninterrupted tonight. “We’ll ride for Montrose at first light so we can complete the journey back to Blackburn Keep by late tomorrow night.”

Backing quickly away, Brenna ducked inside the small dwelling as if she could not escape his company fast enough.
Did she think he meant to foist himself on her this very night to beget his heirs?