Highland Stone (8 page)

Pools of tears filled her sky blue eyes. His stomach turned over. He wanted to shake her, kiss her, and lay her beneath him to discover all her secrets. He flinched when he heard her breath hitch.

"I hoped to hear something to help me find my way home."

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and he caught it on his forefinger. She turned her face away from him as if ashamed of her weeping.

"Do what you want," she said as she brushed past him and walked toward the window. "Throw me in the dungeon, feed me to the lions. I don't care anymore. I'm tired."

Lions?
He marched after Kara, caught her arm, and spun her around. He pressed her back against the wall, using his body to hold her there. The need to touch her was fierce and that unsettled him. Alaxandar grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms above her head.

"Alaxandar, what are you doing?" she whispered.

He didn't listen, couldn't answer.

Gently he caressed her throat which shut her up. He ran fingertips along her collarbone to her breast and squeezed the soft mound. The nipples hardened but he couldn't feel them well enough through the strange garment she wore beneath the clothes. Without preamble, he reached inside her shirt and ripped the flimsy piece away from her body, and replaced it with his hand. The skin was warm and felt like ripe fruit. Yes, fruit, so sweet and delectable. His fingers played across the top and in between the valley of her breasts before flicking the rosy nipple that stuck out begging for his attention. Alaxandar flicked his tongue over it.

She moaned and arched her back, gracefully offering him that which he desired. He closed his mouth and tickled the sensitive spot with his tongue until she wiggled. He wanted to taste more of her and he would before he was through. So many ways would he take her until she was weak from the coupling, then and only then would he be immune.

"Alaxandar," she pleaded.

He released her arms and claimed her mouth again. She raised one leg to settle on his hip. He pressed his hips into the juncture of her thighs.

She buried her hands in his hair and arched her body to him. Consumed by the need, he plundered her mouth. His hand dropped between their bodies. Too many clothes separated him from her skin. She thrust her pelvis to meet his exploring fingers. He growled low, nipping her bared shoulder before grabbing the skirt, and yanking it up to her waist.

A thundering sound rose from the great hall. Alaxandar removed his hands from Kara's body and backed away. Another crash drove him toward the door.

Kara stood, one hand on the wall, her skirt hiked to her thighs and her breasts taunting him. His painful erection begged him to finish what he'd started. Still, he left her there and ran toward the noise.

When he reached the hall, he found one clansmen on bended knee speaking with his father and another bloodied and unconscious lying on the floor.

Katherine sat next to the unconscious man putting pressure on the wound and calling for bandages.

"There was no sound until they were upon us, Chief."

"How many?" Alaxandar asked.

"Mayhap six or seven riders. They put arrows into any on the road, picked up one of the women and took her with 'em."

Alaxandar didn't need to hear more. He headed for the stables. "Jamie, get three and meet me outside."

They rode hard with Alaxandar in the lead. It wasn't difficult to see the imprint of the horses' footprints for the enemy had been riding fast. The darkness closed in around them. Even the torches were of no use. At one point it looked as though the enemy riders split and went in two different directions. Alaxandar stopped his men and listened. He heard no beating hooves. The ground was still.

He had lost them.

The morning chill did little to cool Kara's blazing mind. Last night had been both incredible and miserable. She strolled along the parapets, contemplating the unusual events that had altered her life. This thing with Alaxandar had gone too far. She needed to escape before she did something crazy with that man, or to him. Who knew what kind of history she'd screw up if she had any more interaction than necessary. It would definitely be interaction with Alaxandar. "Damn it. Quit thinking about him and concentrate."

Down below, Alaxandar and Cuilén practiced in the bailey and she paused to watch. The clang of blades was musical, the graceful movements like a dance. "I never thought of sword play as an art," she murmured.
The rhythm and style of movement are pure perfection.

Shirtless, Alaxandar's wide expanse of shoulders and smooth, hard muscles gleamed with sweat. It wasn't the weather that made her hot. Even young Cuilén looked impressive. She understood why women would want them and why Ilysse had fallen so hard. Her gaze traveled around the yard. Jamie's bare torso glistened in the sun as he and Archibald parried and thrust. Archibald's sword flew from his hands and Jamie snickered, enjoying his opponent's embarrassment.

In the far corner of the bailey away from the others, Kara saw something that surprised her. Eleyne, practicing with a small sword which fit perfectly in her hand. She emulated the moves of the men, managing quite nicely.
Feisty little thing.
How sad that a young girl lived in a time when she'd have need of such knowledge.

Again, Kara turned her gaze on Alaxandar. "Oh my, you are an incredible sight," she whispered to herself, inching forward to get a better look. Almost as if he'd heard the comment, he raised his eyes. Cuilén nearly took his head off. She blushed from head to toe. She had been caught gawking.

A thunder of horses entered the gates. Kara peeked over the wall to see several men in plaid, boots, and covered with mud dismounting. Alaxandar strolled to the leader and clasped his forearms. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but by the looks of the men, it couldn't be good news. The man talking to Alaxandar had a tall, muscular form. He did not smile freely as the others and his dark expression made her more curious.

Later, the same man appeared in the stables squeaky clean, but with the same guarded expression.

"Who is he?" Kara asked an elderly clanswoman.

"He be Ramsey MacLaren," the woman sneered.

So that's Ramsey.
"You do not like him?"

"Something isna right about him. His eyes be ever watchful and he never smiles."

Kara studied Ramsey while he helped Cuilén with the horses. His short blond hair curled on his forehead. She had trouble imagining Leelah with this brooding man. Why would Drummond MacLeod do that to his daughter? She'd talk to Leelah later and get the skinny on their relationship.

For now, she needed to concentrate on her own problem.

* * * *

Alaxandar accompanied by Cuilén, Iain, and Jamie, spent the rest of the day distributing meat and supplies to clan members. Early that morning, the hunters had bagged two deer, a dozen grouse, and an equal number of rabbits, all to be shared. The previous night he and his clansmen had ridden hard over their lands looking for signs of the reivers who'd attacked, but found naught. The crafty bastards covered their tracks well.

On the journey back to the keep, Alaxandar's thoughts dwelled a little too long on what had happened between him and Kara. He'd gone from suspicion and anger to desire and need in the blink of an eye. Mayhap it was a ploy to get him off the scent of the true culprits. She tied him in knots as a distraction. She was bloody good at it.

"I think I be needing the feel o' a good woman." Jamie said.

Iain snorted.

"There be women aplenty to help ease your suffering, Jamie me lad," Alaxandar replied.

"Aye, ease your suffering," Iain chortled.

"Cuilén?" Jamie asked.

A wide grin creased Cuilén's face. "I shall be marrit in a few days time. I be thinking of me bonny bride and the pleasures I shall bestow on her. That warms me nights."

"That and the horses," Iain laughed.

Cuilén slapped his younger brother with the reins. "Besides, me
màthair
would have me flogged if I took another whilst me bride-to-be slept within Dunvegan."

Laughter rumbled through the men.

"Me thinks to taste that new piece, Kara," Jamie offered.

Alaxandar halted his horse and turned on his cousin. "Steer clear of her, cousin, lest ye be wanting to face me."

Jamie's unrestrained anger showed but Alaxandar wasn't worried. He'd best Jamie MacLeod in any chosen arena. It had been so since Alaxandar had turned thirteen summers.

"Saving her for yourself? Mayhap ye should choose better who ye spend your nights with. I would not so gladly take an enemy to me bed."

"Then why did ye say it?"

"I dinna say what I planned after," Jamie sneered.

"Enough!" Alaxandar roared. "Keep your distance, cousin." Alaxandar kicked his heels into the stallion and rode off with dirt flying behind him.

Alaxandar slowed the animal some distance away. Cuilén came alongside him.

"Ye should give the beast a rest."

"Aye," Alaxandar replied.

"I wasna talking about the horse."

Alaxandar leveled his eyes on his brother. His anger wasn't directed at Jamie either, but at himself. He didn't like the way Kara got under his skin and into his head until he no longer felt like himself.

"There be something about her," Cuilén said.

"Aye."

"She 'tis hiding something."

"I know." Alaxandar sighed.

"She needs to take care. In these times, there be those," Cuilén paused, "who would look to strangers to blame for what be going on."

"I tried to talk to her, but we end up…" He didn't want to tell his brother what he'd done last night, what she'd almost allowed him to do. He'd taken many willing women, but this was more.

Cuilén coughed before saying, "I think ye should know."

Dread filled Alaxandar when his brother didn't finish. "Know what?"

"I, uh, promised to take her riding today."

"What? Ye know what happened the last time the woman got out."

Cuilén laughed. "I brought that up, but it dinna sway her. Do ye think she was to blame?"

"Nay. She wouldna have fought them." Alaxandar shook his head. "'Tis no jest. She drives me mad."

"I noticed."

"I shall take her on the ride."

"She willna be happy."

"Aye. Pick a horse and have it readied. Me horse needs a breather afore we leave."

"Ye sure ye can manage?" Cuilén asked amusingly.

Alaxandar growled.

* * * *

The sun sank low in the sky and the men had not returned. Kara worried. If it became too late, Cuilén would not take her riding. Desperation clawed at the edges of her sanity. She hoped to scour the countryside and find a way out of this nightmare. Alaxandar ripped off the only bra she had, so the small stone was tucked in her skirt pocket. "Don't start thinking about last night again.
You need to stay focused," she whispered.

On the verge of losing her mind, she'd begged Katherine for something to do. So, here she sat in a small room with the women of the keep, mending shirts. Some of the women dyed cloth and others cut out shirts to be sewn. Every once in a while she'd catch a glimpse of Eleyne ripping out stitches and redoing them. The stubborn girl obviously had little patience for this sort of thing.

"I agreed to make Ilysse's gown," Katherine told Leelah. "I will begin right away."

Leelah nodded. "Aye."

"I can help," Kara said, not believing she'd actually volunteered. "I've spent hours sewing with my grandmother and stitch a neat seam."

"Your help would be welcome, Kara. Many thanks."

"No problem. It will keep me busy."

A young boy appeared in the doorway. "S'cuse me, milady." The boy fidgeted on the threshold.

"You may enter, child."

He dashed forward to Kara. "Cuilén says your horse be ready.

Kara looked on his chubby round face and chocolate brown eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

The youngster spun on his heel and ran out.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll just go freshen up." She hurried to her room and brushed her hair with the wooden comb Maeve had loaned her. She ran a wet rag over her face, pinched her cheeks and took a final critical assessment of her appearance before leaving the room. There were butterflies in her stomach. She knew she shouldn't feel too excited. This ride might lead nowhere, but the anticipation kept her hopeful. Anything she could learn was better than what little she knew. If the ride went well, she might even broach the subject of the MacLeod talisman, and their beliefs of how the talisman worked. She'd been closed mouth about the subject for fear it would add to the suspicions that she was here to do the MacLeods harm. Lately, the whispers about her had tapered off.

When Kara arrived at the stables, her heartbeat picked up and the butterflies turned to dive bombers. Alaxandar stood talking to the stable hand, his stallion waiting next to a beautiful mare.
This can't be happening.

Alaxandar walked over to the mare. "Ready?"

"What happened to Cuilén?" Her tongue stumbled over her teeth. "I mean, I thought Cuilén was taking me."

A slow smile crept across his face and his eyes twinkled. "I offered to go in his stead."

Her stomach sank. He held out his hand, the same hand that just last night had caressed her body and made her pant.
Oh, Lord.
Kara moved toward him.

"Have ye ridden before?"

She nodded in the affirmative.

"Face the horse," he told her.

She turned toward the horse then felt Alaxandar grip on her waist. "Wait," she yelped then reached between her legs to grab the skirt and pull it through. His quizzical look amused her. "So I can straddle the horse." Alaxandar's eyes turned darker and her cheeks burned. She really needed to think before she opened her big mouth. She wondered what they had done with her jeans.

He lifted her onto the back of the animal and handed over the reins. Alaxandar mounted and nodded to Cuilén, who stood in the doorway with arms crossed and a big grin. Kara stuck her tongue out at him as she rode past. His laughter echoed across the bailey.