At the Highlander's Mercy (5 page)

‘Iain,’ she whispered.

One name. With that one name spoken on
a breathless sigh, she ruined all his hopes and once again reminded him of the fruitlessness of his dreams.

W
armth surrounded her.

Lilidh snuggled deeper beneath the bedcovers, allowing the heat to soothe her sore body. She had found this part of her husband’s attentions quite pleasant, for she hated nothing more than waking in a cold chamber with cold feet. As she moved closer to his warm body, a masculine groan filled the space between them.

A groan that did not belong to Iain.

Dear God in Heaven! How could she have forgotten the events of the last days? Forcing her eyes to open even against the glare of what had to be the morning’s strong light, Lilidh looked directly into Rob’s gaze.

‘You are not Iain!’ she blurted out as she sought to escape Rob’s scandalous embrace.
The bedcovers hampered her efforts to scoot back and away from him. The pain that slammed through her head forced her to cease, too, for it threatened to immobilise her with the sheer torture of it. Her stomach rolled from it.

Rob lifted the arm that had most recently crossed her breasts and leaned up on his side. Covered only with his plaid, one that had carelessly been tossed over him from the look of it, he watched her without saying a word. Unlike Iain who simply rolled out of their bed and left their chamber each morn without saying anything, Rob clearly had other plans.

‘No, not Iain,’ he whispered in a voice so deep it made her feel as though heated honey was running over and through her body.

He looked dishevelled from sleep. A lock of his hair kept falling into his eyes. Lilidh reached out to move it away, stopping herself only at the last moment. Damn him! How dare he order her kidnapped and brought here like this. Fool that she always was when it came to him, she wanted to help smooth out the tensions between him and her father. Rob blinked then, turning his gaze from hers as he lifted the plaid and slid to the edge of the bed.

His bed.

She swallowed. Try as she might, she could
not look away as his strong, muscular back was exposed to her, all the way to his … Tanned from exposure to the sun, the muscles rippled as he bent down and reached for something on the floor. Her mouth went dry as he tugged a shirt over his head and stood as its length fell around him.

Though it covered his back, it did not reach much lower than his thighs, so his legs, just as well defined as his back, were open to her sight. He’d grown and filled out from the last time she spied on her brother and him as they swam naked in a lake near her home. The passing years, along with the fighting and training, had added bulk and strength to his body. When he faced her, boots and plaid in hand, their gazes met and only the slight lifting of one corner of his mouth gave her any indication of his reaction to her blatant perusal of him.

‘Do I look like Iain?’ he asked, picking up his boots.

He must never have met Iain or he would not ask the question. Two men could never have looked so differently as he and Iain—had. Iain was nearly two-score-and-ten and his hair had long gone grey. He had retained his warrior’s stature and strength even until his death. Then Lilidh remembered that the MacGregors were
attempting to keep the news of his death from spreading too far while they settled the dispute over his heir and successor.

As happened whenever she thought of her now-dead husband, confusion and regret entered her heart and mind. He had seemed healthy and stout as long as she’d known him, so his sudden and unexpected death, and their short marriage, left more questions and fears in their passing than they answered.

‘No, not alike at all,’ she finally forced out so that he would not stare so intently at her. Turning away, she reached up to examine her head and the bandage she felt there. Truly, she just could not meet his gaze or think about Iain and her failure to please him at this moment. Not when everything was out of control. ‘Did you …?’

He frowned for a moment and then his gaze darkened. ‘Did I what?’

Lilidh could not speak the words. She did not know if he could have had his way with her while she’d been unconscious or not. That place between her legs felt no worse or different than it ever had, so she had not a clue whether he’d taken her or not. The fog caused by the strong medicine in the healer’s brew hid any memory of the last day and night. He waited
for an answer, so she glanced down at the bed and then back at him.

A sudden and terrible thought occurred to her in that moment of waiting—what if her virgin’s blood marked his sheets and exposed her shame and the failure of her marriage? Would he use it to further his clan’s aim to bring dishonour and humiliation to her and her father? Questions would be raised about the validity of her marriage to the MacGregor chief and the treaties attached to it if anyone knew it had never been consummated.

And now there was no way to look without drawing his attention. So, Lilidh waited for him to speak. She swallowed against the fear of exposure and shame and waited for him to answer—too afraid to look and too afraid to look away.

‘Lilidh,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Look at me.’ She did not allow the soft tone to mislead her into thinking it was less than a direct command.

She took in a deep breath, tried to keep from trembling and did as he’d ordered. Instead of the mocking she thought to find there, Lilidh watched as desire filled those blue eyes. Desire so strong she felt it pulse through her as though he touched her everywhere at once. Her
skin heated, her blood raced and her mouth went dry.

‘When I take you to my bed, in my bed, you will remember it. You will remember every caress, every kiss, when it happens.’

Lilidh felt every word he said and the memories of their time together and this promise of what would come between them shot through her body as if he
had
touched her. And in those words were every sensation she’d hope to feel and to experience with her husband, but had not. Hearing Rob say them, she mourned for the thousandth time their regrettable ending with its harsh words. Her skin tingled and her blood heated, waiting as desire burned a path through her.

Then, the flare of passion she’d seen there was over and gone. The fire she’d witnessed turned to cold, icy blue and he walked away without another word. Lilidh watched as he lifted the bar off the door and placed it on the floor and then reached for the latch.

‘Do not attempt to leave this room or speak to anyone save Beathas and Dougal.’

‘I have questions,’ she said before he could leave. Rob glanced back then and shook his head at her.

‘And I have duties to see to,’ he replied as he opened the door.

He spoke quietly to whoever waited there and then he was gone. Though she knew others were just outside the door, no one entered. Lilidh tested her limbs, stretching them as best she could, and then pushed herself slowly to the edge of the bed. Sliding from its height, she grabbed hold of the bedpost and stood, letting her body and her head adjust for a few minutes.

When her legs steadied beneath her, she held her breath, pushed her hair back over her shoulders and took a cautious step. Then, letting go of her support, another and another until she reached the chair by the now-cold hearth. Grabbing for the back of that chair, she wobbled a bit and then used it to edge around until she could sit.

Taking in deep breaths against the pain in her head and the tightness of every part of her, she closed her eyes and tried to think of more pleasant things. It had always helped her in the past and she prayed it would now. Clenching the sides of the chair, she fought off the desire to cry out from the torment.

‘Here now, dearie …’

The words and approach of a woman broke into her thoughts and she gasped in surprise
more than anything else. Beathas, the healer, had returned. Carrying linens under her ancient arm and a large chamberpot in her hands, the woman bobbed from side to side in a most worrying way. Without thought, Lilidh stood to help her. The pain took her breath away with its severity.

‘Poor wee lass,’ Beathas whispered as she put the supplies down and came to her side. Easing Lilidh back to the chair, she cooed and offered warm, comforting nonsensical words, at once becoming the caregiver. ‘Would you no’ be more comfortable in the bed for a wee bit?’

Lilidh closed her eyes, unable to speak and torn between the pain and the gentle care of this stranger. The woman did not push her to move. Instead, taking up a brush, she eased Lilidh’s hair back and began slow, long strokes away from the injured place. When she closed her eyes and blocked out her surroundings, she could have believed herself home, being tended by her mother. She may have even fallen to sleep for a moment, so comforting were the motions of the brush, followed by Beathas’s tender touch as she tamed Lilidh’s tangled hair while avoiding the bandaged, injured area.

‘Do you have a looking glass?’ she asked the woman. Her skin was easily marked by
bruises or bumps and Lilidh wondered how badly she must look after the last days of rough handling by the one who brought her here and his cronies.

‘I don’t, my lady,’ Beathas said. ‘I will see if Tyra has one in her chambers that you could use.’

‘Tyra?’ An unfamiliar name, but then she had not kept track of Rob’s clan in years.

‘Symon’s sister,’ Beathas explained. A hesitation in her reply spoke of much information not to be shared.

‘Never you mind, then,’ Lilidh said. ‘I do not wish you to be drawn into this.’

‘Did he hurt you, dearie?’

The question was slipped in quietly, but confused Lilidh for she did not know if Beathas referred to Symon or Rob. Whichever it was, she had no intention or desire to speak of such things, for it would bring up other personal matters.

‘Leave it be, Beathas. I know that I am prisoner and enemy and do not expect to be treated otherwise while here,’ she said with far more confidence than she felt.

It was the truth, though, and an attitude she feared she must accept to get through this ordeal. If things had deteriorated so much that
Rob’s clan thought kidnapping her and shaming her father was the correct course of action, then she could not be certain of anything—least of all how she would indeed be treated. As laird and chief, Rob would have to appease his clan elders and those whose backing he needed to remain on the high chair. Forcing her to his bed, beating her or shaming her could all be part of it.

A shiver racked her then. She was a woman alone—no guards, no family, no husband—with no one to watch over her and protect her. Had her father received word yet about her kidnapping? Had Rob or that rogue Symon sent demands? If no one was left alive from her travelling group, who would take the news to her father or to the MacGregors?

The tears surprised her then, coming without warning at the thought of her friends and family lying dead by the road after the attack. Poor Isla! Her faithful maid had been with her for years, first as her nurse, then companion as she grew older and did not need a nurse. Accompanying her on her marriage journey to Iain’s clan gave Lilidh comfort, as her mother had said it would. Any number of cousins could have come with her, but her mother had advised only Isla until Lilidh had settled in.

Now, she was responsible for the woman’s death and the death of others who had simply carried out their orders.

Leaning her head down, she let the tears flow. Her body rocked slightly on its own as sorrow filled her heart and soul at the loss of so many. The healer’s gentle touch on her shoulder surprised her.

‘Here now,’ Beathas whispered. ‘All will be well.’

The woman wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and tucked it tightly. She moved quietly around the chamber, straightening the bed and cleaning as she went. Every so often a soft tsking would be heard, but the woman did not ask her any other questions. Lilidh gathered her emotions under control and let the temporary sadness and tears go. For now.

For now she needed to be strong. To be the daughter of the MacLerie and the widow of the proud MacGregor chieftain. To survive this coming ordeal she must keep her wits and find out what Rob’s plans were—especially with her. And she must find ways to influence Rob’s decisions, if possible, too.

For years she’d observed her uncle negotiating and watched her father be both the
Beast
and the wise leader. This was the time to use
everything she’d learned to save herself, her honour and possibly save the man she’d wanted to marry all those years ago. Taking a deep breath, she loosened the blanket and pushed it down. She must be ready to face him on his return.

‘I would like to wash, if that’s permitted,’ she said quietly without looking at Beathas. Without a word, Beathas went to the door, opened it and whispered to whoever stood guard there.

‘Some hot water will be here for you soon. And something warm to drink as well, lass.’

Lilidh sat in the quiet, waiting for those things and trying to see a pattern in what Symon had said while taunting her and in what Rob had said in the hall, snatches of which came drifting back to her now as she thought about it. For certain, she’d been taken because of her father, though little had been said about her connection to Iain and the MacGregors. Only muffled curses and a few words had been directed at her after they’d tied, gagged and hooded her and brought her here.

She thought that Symon might have initiated this action in trying to force Rob’s hand. If she’d been coherent and uninjured during her
taking, she might have learned more. Now, as a loud knock startled her from her thoughts, she would have to wait.

Beathas answered it, opening the door widely to allow entrance to whoever waited. A large wooden tub was rolled in and placed to one side of the chamber. Men followed, carrying buckets of steaming water. A woman entered with a pile of linens and handed them to Beathas. Lilidh watched out the corner of her eye, having no desire to meet what she was sure would be the curious gazes of these Mathesons.

Once the room had emptied and Beathas had arranged things as she wanted them to be, Lilidh pushed herself out of the chair and stood. She could not stop the groan of pain as her body fought her efforts to move. A warm cup was pressed into her hands before she knew it.