Highland Storms (30 page)

Brice’s hand cupped her cheek, then made its way down to skim her left breast. She felt her nipple harden even though he was touching her through the layers of her bodice and shift. She had that strange urge to rub herself against him again. Of its own accord, her body strained upwards, wanting more. He seemed to be of a like mind and with an impatient noise, he tugged at the fastenings of her bodice until they came loose and his hand could gain access to her skin through the thin linen of the shift.

‘
You’re so beautiful, Marsaili,’ he breathed, feathering kisses along her jaw line and continuing down inside her shift. ‘Absolute perfection.’ His tongue found her nipple and she gasped, shocked at the intensity of feeling. More streaks of lightning shot down inside her, but she discovered she wasn’t content to just let him do this to her. She wanted to explore as well.

‘
Can I?’ she whispered, while pulling his shirt out of his breeches.

He gave a low chuckle, which sounded as if it was mixed with pain. ‘No need to ask. Do what you will, I’m all yours.’ There was lazy amusement in his voice, but also something else, something she responded to instinctively. A challenge, daring her to go on.

She did.

He’s mine, all mine. At least for now
. But did she want all of him? Could she forget her principles and just enjoy the moment? For she had no doubt that when it was over, he’d no longer be hers exclusively.

It was a depressing thought, but by now her fingers had found the smooth contours of his chest and hard stomach and she forgot everything except how good it felt to touch him. She caressed each of his nipples in turn and was astonished to find they reacted the same way hers had. Enthralled, she came across the trail of golden hair she’d seen by the lake and followed it downwards, making him groan as her fingers ended up dangerously close to his waistband. There, he gripped her hand and slowly placed it further down as if he was testing her resolve.

‘
Can you feel how much I want you?’ he whispered. ‘Does it scare you?’

‘
No.’ And that was the truth, she realised. Perhaps she was a wanton after all, just like her mother, but she didn’t care. She wanted him as much as he desired her and she wasn’t afraid. Not at all. She knew it would be glorious, being with him, and this may be her only chance to experience it. She shivered as anticipation shimmered through her.

‘
And is it what you want too?’ he asked, his hand now pushing her skirts up, his fingers trailing softly along the inside of her leg, up to where she knew he wished to go. She didn’t stop him, moved instead to accommodate him.

‘
Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes, Brice, I want you. All of you.’

Another shaky laugh. ‘Then how can I refuse? Your wish is my command.’

His fingers had found their way further up and she moaned as they reached their goal. He touched her, teasing, drawing a response from her that she was only too willing to give, and then suddenly she plunged over the edge, crying out. ‘Ah, Brice, I … dear Lord!’

‘
Wait, my love, that was only the beginning,’ he told her, his voice husky with promise and desire. And as his fingers began their teasing again, she was amazed to find the waves build up inside her once more. ‘This time, I’m going with you,’ he whispered, kissing her deeply as he came inside her.

The momentary pain was soon forgotten and Marsaili followed her instincts, moving to his rhythm. She wasn’t disappointed. It was glorious, mind-bogglingly so. When the exquisite sensations washed over her again, it was with a much greater intensity and she heard Brice cry out too, before he stilled and leaned his forehead on hers. At that moment, she felt complete, at one with him.

‘
You, my love, are amazing.’ He nuzzled her cheek, still breathing heavily.

Her own breathing was just as erratic and Marsaili felt as though her heart might burst out of her ribcage any minute, but when he gathered her close and pulled her against him, she closed her eyes feeling utterly content.

She knew she’d probably regret this later, but for now, everything was perfect.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Since no one enquired about Marsaili’s whereabouts, Seton decided to let her and the brat stew overnight. They’d gone quiet fairly quickly and as long as they didn’t attract anyone’s attention, they weren’t going anywhere.

He was quite pleased with his quick thinking in locking them in. It had been a spur of the moment decision when he’d seen Archie run off to the master bedroom to blurt out his tale to Marsaili.
Two birds with one stone, an inspired idea.

He smiled to himself as he entered the great hall the following morning and made his way up the staircase to the laird’s chamber. They must still be in there because he was sure Marsaili would have marched straight over to his house to give him a piece of her mind otherwise. That was one of the things he liked about her, her spirit, although naturally he would have to curb it once they were married. He was looking forward to it immensely.

He paused outside the thick door to listen, but all was quiet. Perhaps they had exhausted themselves trying to find a way out? The thought widened his smile. Softly, he put the key in the lock and turned it, then pushed inwards. Nothing happened.

His smile faded and he gave the door a shove, but it still didn’t move. ‘What the hell …?’ How could they possibly have secured it from the inside when he had the only key? There was no bar on this door.

Seton began to smell a rat. Something wasn’t right here. ‘Marsaili?’ he shouted, but there was no reply. Not so much as a stirring from within the room. Seton swore most foully.
How could she possibly have escaped? Damn the woman!

He clattered down the stairs and outside again, peering up at the window, expecting to see a makeshift rope or something. There was nothing. Cursing again, he rushed along to the kitchen, where a tired-looking Mrs Murray stood by the range, stirring some porridge. She barely spared him a glance, but yawned hugely.

‘
Where’s Marsaili?’ Seton didn’t see the point of beating around the bush. If anyone knew her whereabouts, it would be Mrs Murray.

‘
How should I ken? I’ve enough to do with looking after things here in the kitchen without worrying about everyone else. By rights, she should be here helping me. If you see her, you can tell her from me.’

Seton strode over and gripped the woman’s upper arm hard, turning her to face him. ‘She’s flown the coop, hasn’t she?’ he
asked, but it wasn’t really a question, more a statement of fact.

Mrs Murray frowned at him. ‘What coop? What are you blethering about Mr Seton? If you don’t mind, I’ve had a long night of it with a bad toothache and now I need to get on with my work.’ She stared pointedly at his hand.

Seton let go of her and his gaze went to the corner where Marsaili’s stinking hound usually spent most of his time. The dog wasn’t there either. ‘A pox on it!’ he shouted, then swept an earthenware jug off the kitchen table onto the floor. It made a very satisfying noise as it crashed onto the stone flags, shattering into a thousand pieces, but it didn’t quell his anger much. He ignored Mrs Murray’s outraged protest and crunched his way across the shards to the back door.

When he reached it, he turned and pointed at the woman. ‘You’ll regret this, I promise you.’ Then he stomped outside and headed for the stables.

When he found two of the ponies gone as well, cold fury filled him to such an extent he wondered if he was going to be sick right then and there. He drew in a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and try to order his mind. He had to think. He couldn’t believe the stupid woman had actually gone after the Redcoats. What did she think she’d accomplish by that?

This thought calmed him slightly. There was no way Sherringham would listen to a female, let alone a Scottish one, pleading for a man he thought of as a Jacobite. She’d get short shrift from him and might even be imprisoned herself. Seton’s temper cooled further.

‘
That wouldn’t be so bad,’ he muttered. It might even play into his hands, if he handled his cards right. Yes, let Sherringham scare the living daylights out of her for a few days, then perhaps she’d be more than willing to let Seton rescue her. ‘Hah!’ he exclaimed.
She might even be grateful!

His mood improved yet again as he walked back towards his own house. He’d have to pack a few necessities and set off after them so he could have a word with Sherringham. No doubt the man would be amenable to an arrangement with the right incentive, as always.

Just as he reached his front door, however, a rider came thundering through the township, skidding to a halt next to him. It was one of the Redcoats and he’d ridden his horse hard as the poor beast was lathered with sweat and grime.

‘
Mr Seton,’ the man panted. ‘Have you seen the prisoner this morning?’

‘
What?’ Seton goggled at the man as his pleasant daydreams came crashing down.

‘
The prisoner, sir. He escaped last night and we assumed he’d head straight for home in order to obtain help. Have you seen him?’

Seton shook his head. ‘No, he’s not come back and there’s no one here who would help him.’ At least he hoped there wasn’t. ‘He must have headed straight for Edinburgh. After him, man! There’s no time to lose.’

The Englishman glared at him. ‘I’m aware of that, sir. Very well, I’d best report back to the captain. In the meantime, if you see the prisoner, kindly apprehend him and send word.’

‘
Aye, that I will,’ Seton promised.

But he knew he’d lost this game as well. It was time for desperate measures. He needed the MacGregors.

When Brice woke up he was so stiff that at first he wasn’t sure he could move at all. He groaned and tried to lever himself into a sitting position, but his bruised ribs screamed in protest and he had to make a supreme effort just to perform this simple manoeuvre. Marsaili stirred and blinked up at him, her green eyes full of concern yet again.

‘
Brice? Are you all right?’ she asked, smoothing back a long red-gold tress which had fallen across her face. Her thick braid had come loose and the glorious mass of curls was spread out around her. Brice wanted to reach out and twine his fingers round the softness of it, but couldn’t manage even that at present.

Instead he drank in the sight of her, all tousled and flushed from sleep. She’d looked even lovelier early that morning when he made love to her, twice, before they both fell into exhausted slumber. A certain part of his anatomy remembered this as well, but he was in no state to carry on where he’d left off, much as he would wish to.

He shook his head, even this small motion hurting like hell. ‘No, I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of bullocks.’

She smiled slightly and sat up, reaching out a hand to touch his bare chest which was none too pretty in the light of day. He glanced at it and took in the bruises and contusions which mottled his normally golden skin. ‘It will heal,’ she said, ‘but we need to get you home. I have salves that will help and perhaps a hot bath with certain herbs … but there’s nothing I can do for you here.’

He arched an eyebrow at her. ‘Nothing?’ he queried softly, raising his own hand to caress her smooth cheek. His muscles protested, but he ignored them. He couldn’t resist touching her a moment longer. She was too beautiful for words.

She blushed crimson and turned away. ‘For shame, you can barely move. How can you think about … about
that
at a time like this?’

‘
With you around, I think of nothing else,’ he answered truthfully, but she seemed to think he was joking for she just shook her head and scrambled off the sleeping platform.

‘
I’ll go and get the
garrons
,’ she told him. ‘Try and get yourself dressed and I’ll help you mount. We really shouldn’t tarry here any longer.’

When she’d ducked out of the hut, he sighed, but he knew she was right. This was neither the time nor the place to pursue what had happened between them. It would have to wait until he’d sorted out his other problems.

Trying to take only shallow breaths, he reached for his shirt.

They made their way along the narrow mountain tracks slowly, trusting Liath to alert them to any dangers. The ponies were sure-footed and nimble and Marsaili’s mount seemed to have recovered enough for her to ride him. Even so, they got off to walk whenever they came to any dangerous parts, despite Brice’s injured foot. Marsaili heard the little grunts of discomfort he made every so often and wished there was something she could do for him. But the best thing would be if they could reach Rosyth as quickly as possible.

Truth to tell, she was a little sore herself, although obviously it was as nothing compared to what he was suffering. She shifted her position so the saddle wouldn’t chafe her nether regions. She could hardly believe the things she’d allowed Brice to do to her, but at the time, she’d been unable to help herself. He had completely enthralled her with his love-making and she’d forgotten all her promises to herself.

Fool!
she thought. How could she have given in so easily?

As if he was thinking along the same lines, Brice glanced over his shoulder at her and said, ‘Marsaili, about what happened …’

She looked away. ‘It’s fine. Let’s not discuss it now,’ she said, trying to keep her voice flat and emotionless. She couldn’t bear for him to tell her he’d only taken what she offered so freely. That in the cold light of day he regretted it and as laird he needed to look higher for a wife. There was no need to have it spelled out.