Flame (19 page)

“Every now and then, you know, ‘tis possible
to find a fairly refined Highlander with whom a body might not be
too embarrassed to be seen.” He swallowed a mouthful of wine and
looked at her. “But did I mention, ‘tis rare?”

“Aye, you did.” Without any ceremony, Joanna
reached across the table and, picking up his untouched trencher,
emptied the contents onto her own.

“I can see there is no reason for any
pretense of refinement when you already think me a barbarian!”

“So you take my supper,” he complained,
placing his cup back on the table and leaning toward her
menacingly. “You know we Lowlanders are not known to share.”

Joanna shrugged her shoulders as she reached
in front of him and snatched the piece of bannock cake that he’d
left, as well. “But we Highlanders have been known to steal!”

With the speed of lightning, he caught her
hand in his grip. They both glanced at the piece of bread still
clutched in her fingers, then their eyes again met.

“And we Lowlanders are known to take back
what is ours.” Slowly, Gavin started to haul her bandaged fist--and
the bread--toward his mouth. She tried to resist him, but her weak
struggle could have no more affect against his overwhelming
strength than a lamb might in the clutches of a lion. Closer and
closer her hand moved to his mouth, until suddenly Joanna rose from
her chair and, leaning over quickly, she took the bread between her
teeth.

“Ah,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “But we
Highlanders are far too fast to get caught!”

Gavin fought back a smile, instead glaring at
her threateningly as she munched defiantly on the bread.

“Return it to me!” he growled in jest,
letting go of her hand and roughly taking hold of the braid at the
back of her neck.

Joanna shook her head as she fought his hold.
“But especially, we are too fast for you lazy Lowlanders!”

“You call me lazy?” He brought her face
closer to his own, as he relaxed his rough grip on her hair.

“‘Twould not be very smart for me to admit to
that, now would it, m’lord?” Her voice suddenly turned silken in
her defiance, her eyes smoldering with a glow of embers as she
returned his gaze. All jesting disappeared in an instant as
something far stronger than mirth took hold of the two of them.

Gavin could wait no longer before tasting her
lips. As he framed her face with his hands, his mouth supped on her
full lips. “I believe I can taste my dinner,” he whispered wryly,
drawing back a breath.

She gave him a soft smile in return. “Nay.
But perhaps they can send something up from the kitchens for
you!”

“Think what you like,” he replied, brushing
his lips against hers. “But what I have in mind promises to be far
more delectable than anything that cook Gibby could dream up.”

He thrust quick and hard as her hips ground
tightly against his loins.

“Iris!” he cried out through clenched teeth,
as bolts of fire shot through him and he poured his seed into the
woman.

After a moment, Margaret’s thin arms slipped
around his slight frame as he lay exhausted atop her. And a moment
later, when the man’s tears started soaking the mute woman’s shift,
she ran her fingers soothingly over the rumpled linen of his shirt.
As the weeping subsided, the man lifted his head and gazed down at
the grave expression of the gaunt, almost fragile woman.

“Why do you do this, Margaret? Why do you
allow me to do such things to you?”

Her reply could be only silence, and not even
her eyes answered him. But her fingers continued to caress his face
gently.

“I know 'tis a terrible thing for a man to
use a woman like this. Lust is a killing thing, to be sure.” He
rolled off of her and onto his back, the back of his hand draping
carelessly over his eyes. His voice had the low rasp of a knife on
a stone. “And ‘tis worse still, that I only see Iris’s face when I
lay with you. Our child planted deep in her womb is all I think of
when I...”

Margaret sat up and pushed her shift down
over her exposed thighs. Reaching for a blanket thrown to the side
of the straw pallet, she gently tucked it over the man’s naked
sex.

“Always fussing over me,” he muttered
harshly. “Always kind and ready.”

She let her fingers trail over the palm of
his hand.

“And I am so undeserving of you, Margaret!”
The man’s hand lifted off his brow, and he looked deeply into the
woman’s dark brown eyes. “And you never hear or understand a word I
say. You never will reveal the terrible secrets that...”

She watched him in silence, and he turned
away.

“My Iris betrayed me, Margaret. She could not
help herself. ‘Twas her foul gypsy blood.” A fresh tear worked
itself out of the corner of one eye. The mute woman reached for it
and touched it with the tip of her thumb. The drop spread wet and
shining over her callused skin.

“I told her not to go to the laird,” he
continued gruffly, the rough edges of anger creeping into his
voice. “I gave her my word that I would think of a way. That I
would take care of her and our child. But she was impatient, my
Iris was. In the end, the vixen set her mind to ruin me.”

He jerked into a sitting position and reached
for a ewer of ale sitting on the floor. Taking a deep swallow of
the liquor, he glanced with distaste at Margaret’s fingers gently
stroking his arm. He pushed her hand away with a fierce, snarling
sound, and then pulled his knees to his chest. He said nothing for
a long moment, and the woman gazed intently at his face.

When he spoke again, his voice carried all
the anguish of the damned. “She deserved to die that night, you
know.” He slumped back onto the bedding, covering his eyes with his
arms. “There was no way for us, woman. I saw it clear as day then,
and I see it now. She went to the laird, the vile sweet slut, and
after that, there was no way to recover from the damage she
caused.”

He glanced at Margaret, a wild, tormenting
misery in his eyes.

“She deserved to die, I tell you!” he cried.
“And he, too! He would have taken it all from me! All! He deserved
to die as well!”

The priest tore his eyes from the mute
woman’s face and stared up for a long time into the blackness of
the ceiling.

After a while Margaret, nodding
imperceptibly, placed a kiss on the man’s shoulder and lay her head
on the bedding beside him.

***

Joanna opened her lips and felt a moan
emanate from somewhere deep in her own throat as his tongue swept
into the recesses of her mouth. Wrapping her arms tightly around
his neck, she snuggled closer on his lap, where he had drawn her
only a moment ago. Losing herself in the depth of their kiss,
Joanna felt a warm, pulsing haze crowd all thoughts from her mind,
and she gave in to it, unafraid as an insatiable desire suddenly
blazed within her, setting her senses afire. There was nothing else
that mattered now. No one else existed.

She so desperately wanted to feel him, to
touch him, to taste that passion that had been so unattainable in
her life. But she would not make the same mistake that she had
before. She knew her end was near, but that was not something Gavin
Kerr would accept lightly.

Angling her head and allowing him to deepen
his kiss even further, Joanna swore that she would not allow him to
stop. Not this time.

As if he could read her mind, he broke off
the kiss, and she cursed herself for tempting fate. Her fingers
kneaded the thick muscles of his shoulders and back, and threaded
themselves into his soft, black mane as the warrior breathed deeply
into her ear, crushing her body against his chest.

“Joanna,” he growled against her hair. “Fire
brought you to me, and from that first moment, flames have
tormented my soul. I have been burning to touch you, to make love
to you...to possess you.” His hands raked fiercely at her back,
lifting her and pressing her even closer to him. “‘Tis not like me
to lose control of my desires. To feel so...obsessed!”

She raised her head and brushed his mouth
with her lips, silencing him. “Are you certain ‘tis not the Joanna
MacInnes who sits above your hearth whom you intended to possess,
and not me whom you desire?”

“Nay,” he said intensely. “I want
you
.
The bonny and formidable ghost who has been haunting my soul.”

In his eyes, she saw the blazing passion that
came from within, and his desire tore away the last of her
hesitancy. To Hell with propriety. In his eyes, she was whole and
beautiful, and the time had come for her to give in to the flame
that would take them both to madness and to soaring passion.

“I am no ghost, Gavin Kerr.” Joanna slid off
his lap and moved brazenly between his legs. Amazed at her own
boldness, she nonetheless undid the strip of the clothing that held
the large dress gathered at her waist. “The time has come for you
to see the rest of me.”

His eyes burned into hers and she saw his jaw
stiffen as she started pushing the large neckline of the dress
first over one shoulder and then the next. “Joanna, this...this
passion…you must know that I will have you and keep you
forever.”

“That you shall,” she whispered, lowering the
dress from her shoulders and down to her waist. “For as long as
life allows.”

Giving it one last tug, the dress pooled
around her feet, and she stood in the thin fabric of her chemise
before his scorching eyes.

Joanna shivered with excitement when he
raised his hands to the cloth and ever so slightly traced the
swells of her breasts. Her eyes followed the movement of his
fingers, and she looked down and saw her nipples come to life
beneath his touch. Then he ran his hands down her shoulders, slowly
pushing down her chemise until it was only held by the tips of her
breasts. She thought she would die of the anticipation that
inflamed her. But then his hands moved down her arms, until they
took hold of her hands. Suddenly aware of his intention, she
stiffened.

“Don’t.” She tried to pull her scarred flesh
out of his grip, but he held them tight and raised her hands
against his heart.

“I’ll have all of you, Joanna,” he said
hoarsely leaning down and placing a kiss on the tips of her
fingers. “As you are.” He started unwrapping her hand. “I will
possess all of you, lass.”

She turned her face to the side, not wanting
to witness the repulsion she was certain to find in his eyes when
he was exposed to her hideous form. But he came to his feet and,
trapping her bare hands against his chest, leaned down and captured
her mouth.

Even had she wanted to, he wouldn’t allow her
to hold back. His lips demanded, his mouth took and yet made her
melt from under the heat of his passion. When he pulled back again,
she followed him with her lips, until once again she was faced with
the sight of her hands on his heart. He then raised them before his
eyes and kissed her palms, turning them over and continuing to
caress with his lips, her healing flesh.

Joanna gave up her attempt at holding back
the tears that were stealing down her cheeks. Looking at him, his
head bent over her hands, she felt her stubborn heart soften,
opening its ironbound gates with bittersweet joy as he silently
glided in. She had wanted the tie between them to be only that of
desire, of mindless passion. But with the touch of his lips, he had
forced her to think again, to feel again. He was determined to
possess her, she knew, but it was more than her body that he would
be getting, for she was adding her soul, as well.

He raised his hands to the thick braid of her
hair.

Awkwardly, but with a determination that
reflected in his face, Gavin pulled loose the golden locks, combing
it with his fingers until it rippled like a blanket over her
breasts.

He paused. “Joanna, we have to speak of
marriage. I cannot simply take you with no plans for the future.”
His voice was husky with emotion, but she pressed her fingers to
his lips.

Silently, she slipped the chemise past her
breasts, letting it drop to the floor. There was nothing now that
separated her body from his gaze.

“You are so beautiful.” He paused, his eyes a
battleground of restraint and desire. “But I must settle your
betrothal.”

With a smile, she placed her fingers on his
mouth again and traced his full lips.

“There is no betrothal,” she responded with a
faint smile.

“But there is.”

“After you, there will be no other man. I am
yours alone. Please, Gavin,” she continued, taking a step toward
him until her bare breasts rested against the linen of his shirt.
“I want you now. Please, let us not talk of the future. Not
now.”

She caressed his face and Gavin’s restraint
slipped away along with his composure. He put his hands over hers,
trapping them against his cheeks. She was vividly aware of the
strength in his fingers as they crushed her own between them.

“God help me, Joanna,” he said thickly.
“All...all I know is...now! But you must help me to think
of...”

“Now is all I ask.”

He held her captive in his arms, and his
mouth descended on hers, crushing her lips with his bruising
passion.

A hot, liquid yearning began to flow deep
within her, rising from her very core and searing her flesh with
its heat. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Joanna felt
Gavin’s hands move down her bare back and cup her buttocks, lifting
her against him. She moaned at the feel of his huge arousal
pressing against her through the soft wool of his kilt.

As he ended the kiss, she drew her breath to
protest until the touch of his lips on her ear transformed her
objection into a rapturous sigh. Her head fell back, and she swayed
slightly in his embrace.

“Joanna,” he murmured, “my bewitching
spirit.” He laid a trail of kisses from her jaw to the tender flesh
of her throat, his lips lingering on her fluttering pulse.