Highland Angel (9 page)

She frowned as she toyed with a lock of his thick hair, enjoying the feel of his slowly steadying breath against her neck. It would be wise to cease thinking about all the women he had bedded. Such thoughts were painful and she did not want them to spoil whatever time she had with Payton. It would probably be impossible to stop all pangs of guilt for breaking so many rules, but she intended to do that as well. If the wanton way she had behaved just now was any indication, Payton was right in saying she was a passionate woman. Kirstie was determined to enjoy that to its fullest. Aye, she thought, it was time to grasp all the delight she could, for in a way, she was living under a death sentence.

Payton enjoyed Kirstie’s idle caresses as he waited for his pulse and breathing to return to normal. He hoped he would then find the strength to move. It was as if he had poured all of his strength into her lithe little body. His release had been the most powerful, most shattering he had ever experienced. Payton suspected that ought to concern him, and it might do so later, but for now, he simply wondered if there was any chance he could make love to her again tonight.

He finally found enough strength to stroke her hip and felt her snuggle against him. Little Kirstie MacIye was probably the most passionate, most responsive woman he had ever known. Not only did she go wild in his arms, but she had done so her very first time. There was no deception in it, either. She was not pretending, not simply making all the required faces and sounds. The moment desire started to creep through Kirstie’s veins, she let it rule her, gave it her whole heart, and reveled in it. She was deliciously exhausting. He wanted to compare it all to another woman, another bedding, but at that moment, he could not recall any.

When Payton moved out of her arms and got up, Kirstie felt a brief flicker of alarm. She had thought the silence between them was simply because they were both too wrung-out to talk. Now she began to wonder if she had done something wrong, been too wicked and wanton and disgusted him. Despite her embarrassment over such an intimacy, she was relieved when all he did was fetch a cloth and water to clean them both off. When he slid back into bed beside her, she fought the urge to cling to him.

“I should return to my own bedchamber,” she said, her voice a little unsteady as he nibbled her ear, restirring a desire she would have thought was well fed.

“Nay.” Payton wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close. “Ye will sleep with me now.”

“But, then everyone will ken what we are doing.”

Considering the amount of noise she had been making earlier, Payton found it amusing that she would whisper now or that she could think, for even a moment, that her presence in his bedchamber was a secret. He would not say anything about that, however. There was the chance she would be embarrassed into silence and he found the sounds of her delight rather intoxicating.

“Nay, ye will stay here.”

“But—”

He gave her a brief, hard kiss. “They will ken we are lovers e’en if ye creep back to your own bed. They willnae fault ye for it, lass. After what ye have done for the bairns, ye would have to do far more than take a lover to lose their respect. And, ere ye say it, nay, they willnae see ye as just another one of my women.” He circled her nipple with the tip of one finger, delighted by how quickly it hardened, inviting his kiss.

“The children—” she began, fighting to ignore his idle caress.

“Are too young to see any harm in this or e’en to understand. Weel, save for Callum. He willnae condemn ye, but he may nay be too happy with me.” He began to cover her plump, round little breast with fleeting kisses. “I think the lad is in the throes of a first love and that can be a sore trial.”

Kirstie had begun to suspect the same. “He told me I should do what will make me happy.”

“So, ye already spoke to the lad, aye?”

“He spoke to me. ’Tis difficult at times to recall that he is but a boy of eleven.”

“In years and stature, but nay in heart and mind. Callum hasnae been a boy, as we think of one, for many a year. His childhood was stolen by abuse and abandonment. I think some of what he feels for ye is born of the fact that ye are kind to him. ’Twill soon settle down to a feeling more akin to what one feels for a mother, sister, or aunt.”

“That would be nice.” She wondered how he could keep talking as she was rapidly losing all of her wits.

Kirstie threaded her fingers through his hair. She trailed her other hand down to his hip. His skin felt so good beneath her fingers. She wanted to cover his body with kisses, but was not sure a lady would do such a thing. She inwardly grimaced as a small voice in her head tartly informed her that a lady would not lie down with a man who was not her husband nor do so with such vigor and enjoyment. But, she had. She was in Payton’s bed and, despite her unease, she intended to stay there for as long as she could. The very last thing she wished to do was something that would give him a disgust of her. Since he was freely touching her, however, it had to be permissible to touch him. Kirstie slid her hand inward from his hip and curled her fingers around his erection.

“Jesu,” Payton muttered as he felt her touch him.

“Did that hurt?” She started to release him only to have him put her hand back.

“Nay. It felt too good for a moment.” His eyes widened slightly when she solemnly nodded, as if what he had just said actually made sense to her. “Stroke me, my dark beauty.” He shuddered and closed his eyes as she did as he commanded, revealing an exquisite skill. “I am nay sure I have the strength to enjoy too much of that.”

“I ne’er thought it would feel so nice to be touched.”

“Neither did I. Too nice.” He gently removed her hand as he wondered what had happened to the control he had perfected over the years. “Are ye sore, lass?” he asked as he stroked her taut belly.

“Nay. Should I be?”

“Ye may be, come the morning.” He teased her hardened nipples with his tongue, savoring her soft gasps of pleasure and the way she arched her back, silently asking for more.

“Then I will worry o’er it come the morning.” She clutched at his broad shoulders as he drew the aching tip of her breast deep into his mouth. “I believe I am getting agitated again,” she gasped out as he turned his attentions to her other breast. “Verra, verra agitated.”

“Verra, verra?” He kissed her stomach as he slid his fingers into the hot, damp welcome between her lovely thighs. “Oh, aye. Ye are so beautifully responsive, my dark beauty. So hot and wild in your passion.”

“I am sorry,” she said, even as she frantically wondered how she could hold back the feelings his touch stirred within her.

“Nay, ne’er be sorry. ’Tis beautiful, wondrous, intoxicating.”

He wanted to devour her, but it was too soon. Payton did not want to shock or frighten her, to do anything that might dim her passion. She was a treasure, but one that needed to be uncovered carefully, gently. He slowly joined their bodies, her soft moan music to his ears. She shifted her body and took him in deeper, revealing a natural skill that left him breathless. With a little experience, Kirstie could prove lethal.

As he slowly thrust in and out of her tight heat, he found just enough control to watch her this time. The open, unfettered delight reflected upon her sweet face was the most sensual thing he had ever seen. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze and he felt a hot spear of lust stab him. Her eyes were dark and glowing, like storm clouds.

“This time I will be in control,” he said, not sure who he was promising that to—Kirstie or himself.

“That is important, is it?” she asked, her voice so thick and husky she barely recognized it.

“Control helps ye make the pleasure last longer.”

“Oh, that sounds verra fine indeed.”

Then she thrust her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. At the same time, she pressed her small heels against his backside, arched her hips, and drove him deep within her. As Payton felt the thin strands of his control snap, he decided it was a very good thing Kirstie was too innocent to understand her own power. If she ever began to understand it and use it well, he could easily become soft clay in her small hands.

“How is young Simon?” Kirstie asked the moment she and Callum were a safe distance away from the foundling home.

“Fine enough,” replied Callum, leaning against the wall of one of the buildings siding the alley they hid in. “That foul woman has all the children working harder than e’er before. Since they daren’t be seen to be giving lads to Roderick, she wants to make more coin off the bairns’ sweat. The bitch.”

Since Kirstie agreed heartily with those last two words, she decided it would be a little hypocritical for her to scold Callum for using them. When she had first heard of the home for orphaned or abandoned children, she had thought it such a wonderful thing. Most children not taken in by family were left to fend for themselves, tended to by the church, or used as slave labor by whoever could grab them and hold them. This house was run by the Darrochs, who survived on the work the children were trained to do and any money contributed by kind or guilty people.

Or so she had naively believed until she had started to gather information on it. It was appallingly run, the children given barely enough to survive and then worked nearly to death to fill the Darrochs’ coffers. The children were also sold and, if Roderick was an example of the sort of person the Darrochs allowed to buy a child, Kirstie dared not think of the fate of the others. She could not save them all, however, no matter how dearly she wished she could.

“As soon as we rid the world of Roderick, I think I shall turn my attention to the Darrochs,” she murmured.

“Aye, they are wretched scum.”

“But, Roderick is nay longer welcome there?”

“Aye and nay. They are afraid, afraid if they are seen to deal with the mon now that all the rumors are flying about, someone might come and look a wee bit too closely at how they care for the children.”

“Then, mayhap, they will cut their own throats, although I dinnae want another child to suffer in order for that to happen.”

“The mistress will be the one who falters. She is hungry for the coin given for a child. Simon says Roderick has come round once more, but Master Darroch wants the mon to wait, pleads patience.”

Kirstie started on the way back to Payton’s home. She was so tired, weary to her soul over the misery that seemed to be such an intricate part of the world. The rich did so little and the ones who would help, such as herself, simply did not have the power or coin to do much at all. She had pulled only ten children free of the mire, but even those few had strained what few resources she had. Kirstie dearly wished she could harden her heart, close her eyes to the need all round her, and be satisfied with the little she could do. She was startled out of her dark thoughts when Callum took her hand in his and gave it a slight squeeze.

“Ye do what ye can, m’lady,” he said. “Wheesht, ye are willing to risk your verra life for us. There are nay verra many who would.”

“That was what was making me so sad. There are so many children in need, and there shouldnae be. I was raised to believe ’tis the responsibility of an adult to care for the wee ones, for any child in need. The bairns are the future, needed to replace the old and infirm. There are so many ways for a child’s life to be cut short, so the ones who are
strong enough to survive and grow ought to be cherished. I just cannae understand why so few people understand that.”

“The poor have too many of their own and the rich care only for the ones of their own blood.”

“And, sometimes, ne’er e’en them.”

Callum nodded, a very adult, very solemn look upon his face. “When I am full grown I will care for as many as I can. Mayhap, if I work verra hard, I can have a big house and fill it with the orphans and the abandoned bairns.”

“Ah, ye are a good mon, Callum.” She bit back a smile at the way he puffed out his thin chest.

Their moment of accord was abruptly shattered. Two men stumbled into the alley she and Callum walked through. They had obviously just left the alehouse, for they were a little unsteady on their feet. Despite their best efforts, she and Callum were unable to avoid the men. Callum was knocked down and, even as she moved to help him up, one of the men stumbled into her. She was shoved hard into the wall of the tavern.

Dazed, Kirstie stepped away from the wall and felt a tug on her hair. Horrified, she reached up to hold her cap on only to find it was already too late. She quickly grabbed her cap off the jagged piece of wood that had snared it and yanked it back on, but it was hopeless. Her hair had already begun to fall down around her shoulders, revealing her sex. The two men stared at her, recognition in their eyes. Roderick’s guard dogs, she realized, and felt her blood chill.

“Run,” she ordered Callum, her gaze fixed upon the two large, dark men who served Roderick so well.

“Weel, weel, if it isnae his lordship’s wee bride,” said Gib, his grin revealing badly rotted teeth.

“Oh, the laird will be weel pleased with this.” Wattie scratched his belly and looked Kirstie over in a way that made her skin crawl. “’Course, he willnae be too happy that the bitch is still alive.”

“She willnae be for long.”

Even as Gib reached for her, Kirstie brought her foot up, hard, right into his groin. At the same time, a stout stick was brought up between Wattie’s thick legs from behind. Both men screamed and slowly sank to their knees. Kirstie started running as fast as she could, Callum keeping pace at her side.

“I thought I told ye to run,” she said, even as they fled the alley, followed by bellows of rage and the sounds of pursuit.

“And leave ye to that scum?” Callum cast a brief glance behind him. “We didnae hit them hard enough or they have ballocks made of stone. This way,” he said, turning sharply and yanking hard on her sleeve to pull her along.

Kirstie willingly gave the lead to Callum. The boy had grown up on these streets and alleys. He knew his way around far better than she did. She just hoped he knew it far better than Wattie and Gib did as well.

The pain in her side was excruciating by the time they paused to catch their breath. Leaning against a wall, Kirstie fought to regain her strength. They had run for longer than she cared to think about. Although she knew ladies were not supposed to indulge in such rigorous activity, she found it a little lowering that Callum had been able to keep up such a pace far better than she had. She had often been able to outrun her brothers.

“I can hear them,” she whispered when she finally regained enough breath to speak.

“They arenae verra quiet when they are on the hunt, ’tis true.” Callum listened intently for a moment. “They arenae that near. We can rest for a wee bit longer.”

“They willnae give up easily, will they?” She took her cap off, hastily repinned her hair, and covered it.

“Nay, dinnae think so. If they could bring ye to their master, they would soon have verra fat purses. Aye, enough to keep them in ale and whores for years.”

Very soon she was going to have to have a talk with Callum about his language, Kirstie thought. She then wondered why she would be concerned about such inconsequential matters when she was running for her life. Lack of air had obviously disordered her wits.

This was exactly what Payton had been concerned about. It was annoying to discover he had been right. It would be even more so when she had to tell him that he was. Tempting though it was not to tell Payton about this, Kirstie knew she would have to. Once those two oafs told Roderick she was still alive, her husband would start searching for her. She was not the only one hiding at Payton’s home. Some plan of escape would need to be formed, or a secure hiding place would have to be found.

“They sound verra close now,” she said.

“Aye,” agreed Callum. “We could rest a wee bit longer, but best we move. We can go slower for a while.”

“Thank God. I must be getting old.”

“Ye probably used up all your strength thrashing about in Sir Payton’s bed last night.”

“Callum!” She was both shocked and deeply embarrassed.

“Wheesht, m’lady, did ye think it a secret?” He looked around when they reached a brief opening, then hurried her across it. “I dinnae ken why ye are so worrit that we all ken it.”

“Because it is shameful.”

Of course, it had not felt that way in the dark of night. Or even in the morning light when Payton had reached for her again, she mused. It was only when he was away from her side, when he was not beguiling her with his smiles, his kisses, and his touch, that she started thinking on all the rules she was breaking. She slowly lost all her resolve; her decision that her love for the man made it acceptable grew weaker and weaker. If she managed to elude Roderick’s grasp yet again, she was going to have to take time to truly understand what she was doing and why she should still feel uneasy about it.

“Ye worry on such things too much, m’lady,” Callum said, even as he silently urged her to move a little faster.

The pursuit carried on until the approach of nightfall. Kirstie was afraid she would soon be caught simply because she would collapse at Gib’s or Wattie’s big feet, too exhausted to care what happened to her. Every time they turned toward Payton’s home, Gib or Wattie was lurking in their path. Kirstie could almost believe they knew where she was hiding and with whom, but knew that was an impossibility. She and Callum would immediately turn in another direction, not wishing to take even the smallest chance that the other children might be found.

When Callum suddenly stopped and tugged her downward, she realized they had
come to the place where she had first hidden the children. She followed Callum into the hole, then collapsed, sitting on an old barrel set almost directly beneath the window. As Callum set the piece of wood back over the hole in such a way that cracks were left, she wondered where he found the strength. When he sat down on the floor near her feet, she could hear him panting softly and felt a slight trembling in his body when he slumped against her legs. He would not be able to go much farther, either. She prayed this hiding place was still safe.

“Why did ye leave those cracks?” she whispered when she finally regained enough breath to speak.

“So we can hear anyone coming,” Callum replied, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I want to ken if we have to run again.”

“But, there isnae any other way out of here.”

“Aye, there is. Two. Went looking for another way out the first time ye set me down here. I like to ken where all the bolt-holes are. Dinnae like to be cornered.”

She briefly stroked his bright hair, silently acknowledging the hard lessons he had been forced to learn and offering an unspoken sympathy. On the other hand, she thought, those hard lessons had just proven very useful. Some of them would probably prove very useful in the future as well. Kirstie had the feeling Callum would be a force to be reckoned with when he became a man.

It was strange to depend upon a boy for rescue and leading them to safety. She was the one who was supposed to be keeping the children safe. Although she had thought she was skilled in running and hiding, Callum was extraordinary, and it was not just his superior knowledge of the town. Callum knew how to listen and what to listen for. He had an uncanny sense of what his enemy would do next. When she had first met the boy, he had not learned the full value of the shadows that were everywhere, but he had obviously vastly improved that skill as well. Kirstie had the depressing feeling that she was slowing him down, perhaps even putting him at risk.

“Callum, if they find this place, ye are to flee and nay worry about my keeping pace with ye,” she said.

“Nay, I willnae leave ye behind,” he said.

“Callum, ’tis important to me that ye get away. I dinnae want to be the cause of ye falling into Roderick’s foul grasp again.”

“And I dinnae want to go back to Sir Payton’s and tell them all I couldnae keep ye safe. Now, hush.”

She opened her mouth to remind him just who was the child here and who was the adult, but closed it again. It would do no good to recall him to the fact that she was
Lady
Kirstie and he was just Callum, either. Such reminders of birth and position were not her way anyhow. Nothing would change the boy’s mind, for this was a matter of manly pride. And, after living with eight brothers, she knew that manly pride could be far more important and easily stung in a youth than in a fullgrown man. Callum would not desert her. Kirstie struggled to make her exhausted mind work so that she could give him a way to elude capture, yet still maintain his manly pride.

“If we get cornered, Callum,” she said after several moments of hard thought, “and ye can see there is nay way to stop those two fools from dragging me off to Roderick, ye are to do your verra best to free yourself.”

“But, I must—” he began.

“What ye must do under those circumstances is get back to Sir Payton and tell him what has happened. We told him where we would be today, but we are nay there now, are we? The moment he realizes we havenae returned in a timely manner, that we are late enough to indicate something has happened, he will search for us.”

“I told him I would take care of ye.”

“And he kens that ye will, but he will still come looking for us. He is a knight, our protector, and our chosen champion. He cannae do anything else, nay being what he is. He would do the same if Strong Ian went missing. So, he will need to ken where to look. And, if Roderick does get me, he will take me to Thanescarr and ye ken all the ways in, out, and about that dark place.”

After a few moments of heavy silence, she felt him nod. “Then, if there is nay saving ye,” he said, “I will save myself and go get Sir Payton.” He suddenly tensed. “Nay more talking.”

It was another full minute before Kirstie heard what Callum had—someone approaching their hiding place. The boy had very keen hearing. She tensed and felt Callum slowly, silently, get to his feet when the footsteps halted just outside the opening they had used to get into the dark cellar.

“We have lost them, Wattie,” Gib said, his rough voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Curse them—I thought I would get my hands on that little bitch at last,” muttered Wattie.