Highland Captive (18 page)

“Why,
thank ye, Aimil.” He felt genuinely flattered. “Anything else?”

“Pleading
for compliments, are ye? Weel, your hands. I like your hands.” She lifted one
of his hands to her mouth and kissed his palm. “They are strong, calloused from
work and holding a sword, but can be verra gentle. They could crush me but they
never even try to.” She noted that, although he looked pleased, he also looked
quizzical. “What did ye think I would say?”

“My
staff.” He grimaced slightly when she looked at him as if his wits had gone
begging.

“Why
should I choose that? Every mon has one of those. As Leith says, “’Tis not the
steed but the ride that matters.’ A large horse doesnae always give a good
ride. When ye asked me to say what I liked, I looked for what made ye different
from other men.” She suddenly grinned at him. “Mayhaps if ye had smiled more,
the women would have looked at your face and not your breeches.”

Laughing
quietly, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him. “Are ye saying that
ye care not about my endowments?”

“Nay.
I daresay this wouldnae be quite so much fun without it.” She laughed with him
as her hand slid down to discover him ready and eager again. “Though, I must
say, your appetite threatens to wear it down to a stub.”

“I
will take my chances, witch,” he growled against her breast. “I think I must
raise your ransom.”

“If
it goes any higher my father willnae be able to pay it and take me home,” she
pointed out in an increasingly husky voice.

“Exactly.”
He slowly drew the hard tip of her breast into his mouth, delighting in her
soft cry of pleasure.

When
their passion had spent itself, he lay with his head against her breast. Aimil
smoothed her hand over his broad back and her cheek rested against his thick
hair. It was hard for her to recall a time when she had not shared his bed. She
did not even try to.

Now
she began to mull over her recent revelation. It brought her both happiness and
sorrow. There was an indisputable pleasure in loving someone. She did not need
experience to know that was why their lovemaking was so good. That she loved
the man who held her and possessed her and helped her reach those high levels
of desire and satisfaction. Aimil was confident of that. It also kept her
wanting more.

She
wondered if love was what had kept guilt and shame away. It had been there from
the start, had simply been too new to recognize. She had so easily accepted his
absurd bargain because the seed of love had already been planted and had begun
to grow within her.

The
sadness came from the fact that he did not share her love. He desired her, and
she did not think it was vanity that made her so certain that he liked her as a
person. It was not love, however. He gave passion and friendship while she gave
him her soul. It was not the fairest of trades and not one to make any woman
happy. Unrequited love was all the poets claimed it was she decided.

Her
real pain stemmed from the knowledge that it must end. Once her ransom was
paid, she would be sent home, home to marry Rory Fergueson. She could not
believe that Parlan could stop that as he claimed he could. Holding Parlan a
little tighter and smiling when he murmured her name in his sleep, she stoutly
vowed not to think of what was to be but only of what she was enjoying at the
moment. She would wallow in her love without a thought to the morrow.

Chapter Ten

“Elfking
is a verra smart horse.”

“He
is a verra contrary beast.” Parlan, leaning against the fence watching Aimil
feed the stallion an apple, fought a smile as he added provocatively, “Just
like his mistress.”

“Because
he willnae let ye woo him doesnae mean he is contrary.”

“Ah,
ye have caught me.” He made no attempt to deny her accusation, saw no reason to
do so.

“Aye,
though I was slow to do so. I said, “Nay, Parlan wouldnae be so sly.’ Then ye
said that sly thing to my father.”

“Sly
am I?”

“Aye,
a bit. Verra clever with words ye are. What ye say is the truth and lulls a
person, stopping their questions, but ‘tis not the whole truth.”

“Here
I am thinking I am being charming and gallant, wooing ye and your beast and ye
call me sly.”

She
sent him a mock glare, struggling not to laugh at his crestfallen expression. “Give
it up. Dinnae ye have aught to do this day aside from pestering me?”

“Aye.
Actually, I do. I must leave for the Dunmore keep soon.”

“Ye
are taking Catarine home?” She tried hard to appear casually interested.

“Nay.
She claims she needs time to ready herself before she travels to the court at
Stirling.”

He
could not hide his smile at the annoyed expression Aimil could not disguise. It
pleased him to see the hint of jealousy and possessiveness in her. He knew
there was more to it than that, however. Catarine was annoying. If she was any
but a Dunmore and his sense of hospitality any less, she would have been tossed
out on her ear a long time ago. Instead, she lingered, accosting him at every
turn and filling Aimil’s ears with poison, making far too much out of one
evening of lust. It was fortunate that Aimil did not let jealousy turn her
shrewish. He hoped it would not take Catarine much longer to realize that she
could not gain her obvious objective of replacing Aimil in his bed and to see
that he had absolutely no interest in her. Aimil might have the strength to
tolerate the woman, but he was rapidly losing all patience.

“I
will be gone twa days, mayhaps three.”

Pleased
by the expression of distress that fleetingly passed over Aimil’s face, he idly
wondered if she knew how easily read she was. She could shutter her expression,
but more often than not, not fast enough. He had quickly learned to keep his
gaze trained upon her face when he said anything, for in that first brief
instant was the chance to glimpse her real reaction to whatever he had said.

“I
see.” She told herself that she was glad he would be gone for a while and did
not believe a word of it.

Quietly
drawing nearer to her, he mused, “Aye, there will be talking, dealing, drinking...”

“Wenching,”
she muttered.

“Nay,”
he said softly, and kissed her ear, meeting her start of surprise and resultant
scowl with a smile. “None for me. I must give the poor, wee fellow a rest. Ye
are so greedy.” He sighed. “I fear t’will be worn out before its time.”

“I
am greedy?” she squawked, turning to look at him in outrage.

Moving
so that she was caught between him and Elfking, who now tolerated Parlan
completely, even if the horse still did not let Parlan ride him, he drawled, “Weel,
mayhaps I am nae so temperate meself. Of course, ye being such a comely lass...”

“What
are ye after?”

“Now,
lass, just because I try to speak sweet words to ye and to cuddle some...”

“It
isnae that exactly, but there is an air of wheedling about ye.”

He
grinned, not the least bit disturbed by her suspicions, but then said quietly, “I
have a fierce desire to ride Elfking to the Dunmores. I am thinking I would
look verra fine and impressive arriving on such a mount.”

“Ye
look verra fine and impressive riding on Raven.”

“Aye,
but they are used to the sight.”

She
rolled her eyes in disgust over his lack of modesty, but he grinned. Even while
indulging in that nonsense, she was thinking hard. He would look impressive
upon Elfking, his darkness a perfect foil for Elfking’s pure white form. It
would be a sight the Dunmores would not soon forget. Unfortunately, despite her
efforts not to be suspicious, she could not believe that his only motive.

“Is
that your only reason?”

“Ye
wound me with your mistrust.”

“I
doubt that. Ye have been working verra hard to woo Elfking away from me. Dinnae
try to deny it. This may be but another ploy.”

“Nay,
‘tis not that.”

“Ye
really wish to be grand-looking before the Dunmores?”

“Aye.
It never hurts to have your allies see ye as a wee bit bigger than life.”

He
watched her frown in thought as she stroked Elfking’s neck. A twinge of guilt
assailed him for, although he had not lied, he had not been completely
truthful, just as she had accused him. Advancing his cause to win the horse was
ever there but did not prompt his request. He would be gone, out of her bed.
Without the bonds of passion holding her, she could well try to slip away.
There was a far less chance of her attempting escape if she would have to do it
without her precious horse. Inwardly, he grimaced recognizing that
increasingly, he found himself jealous of the animal’s place in her affections.

Aimil
stroked her mount and tried to order her thoughts. No matter what Parlan’s
reason for wanting to ride Elfking, once he was on the mount’s back, she
suspected it would be hard to remove him. She was sure he knew that once
Elfking was made to accept him as a rider there could be no going back. The
horse could not be made to understand that something was only temporary. To let
Parlan ride Elfking could well be the first and irrevocable step to giving him
the horse.

She
realized suddenly that that no longer troubled her. Elfking was important but
no longer all important. What would make Parlan happy was dear to her. As she
turned to look at Parlan, she wondered a little nervously if he would read all
that was behind her gesture. He would know as well as she did that once she
bade Elfking to let him ride, she was, in most respects, giving him her horse,
her most prized possession. It was a gesture that could mean a lot or could be
rash. Although she did not want him to think her foolish, she decided that,
under the circumstances, it would be better than having him guess the state of
her heart.

“Aye,
ye can ride Elfking to the Dunmores.”

Parlan
struggled not to embrace her heartily so exultant did her gesture make him
feel. She might be unaware of what lay behind her act. Too exuberant a reaction
could be seen as a triumphant display for getting nearer to possessing the
horse not her heart. That was not an impression he wished to give her so he
simply smiled.

“How
do we go about this then?”

“We
must ride together first.”

Tossing
her up on the horse’s back, he said, “Let us be off then.”

“Ye
are verra eager,” she drawled as he carefully mounted behind her.

“What
man wouldnae be over the chance to ride such a magnificent beast and”—he
nuzzled her neck making her giggle—“with such a bonnie lass to wrap his arms
about.”

“Humph.
Ye are verra sweet of tongue when ye get your way.” As they rode out of the
gate, she cast him a sly glance. “I may be luring ye to a lonely spot where I
plan to stick a dirk between your ribs and then be off.”

“Malcolm
wouldnae stand for it.”

Looking
in the direction he indicated, she saw Malcolm and Lagan trailing a discreet
distance behind. “They truly dinnae think I would ever do such a thing, do
they?” She was a little offended at that sign of mistrust.

“Nay,
but there are some about who would sore like to.”

“Husbands
most like.”

“Ye
do see me as a rogue.”

“Are
ye not then?”

“Nae
as great a one as ye think, I am certain. Are we on an old woman’s ride then,
little one?”

“Ah,
ye want some speed, do ye? Then ye shall have it.”

He
laughed as she spurred Elfking into a gallop. As he rode with her, he was
acutely aware of her skill, of how at one she was with her mount. He doubted
that there were many other women who could ride as well as she. It was
something he deeply admired.

So
too did he deeply admire the horse they rode. His guilt over his ploys to gain
her stallion would have been greater except that he grew more certain each day
that Aimil would remain at Dubhglenn. It would be a sharing of her horse that
he acquired, not full possession. He grew as eager to make Aimil a permanent
part of Dubhglenn as he had been to make Elfking a permanent part of his
stables.

The
ride was short for she did not want to tire Elfking. It was a relatively long
ride to the Dunmores. So too was she certain that Parlan would wish to
experience Elfking’s full potential while he held the reins. She reined in at a
small clearing.

“Here
is as good a place as any for your maiden ride.”

“Are
ye sure he willnae toss me to the ground?” he asked as she slowly dismounted.

“Nay.
This is how I got him to allow Leith upon his back. To get him to toss Leith, I
must order him to do it. ‘Tis a way to discourage strangers. If ye had mounted
alone, ye would have found yourself sprawled in the dirt but because I have let
ye on with me then left ye on, Elfking willnae object to ye. Weel, go on then.
Ride away.”

Hearing
the reluctance in her voice, he smiled. He bent down, grasped her chin, and
pressed a brief kiss to her slightly pouting mouth. Then, because he could no
longer wait to take his first ride, he spurred Elfking on, leaving Aimil
behind.