Highlander Unchained (33 page)

She slipped her arms around his neck and looked up at him with such depth of emotion in her face, it took his breath away. Her eyes seemed to dominate her tiny face, and her cheeks were flushed pink as she peered up at him hesitantly.

“Realize that I love you.”

A wave of incredible happiness crashed over him. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. It seemed impossible that this beautiful, amazing woman could love him. That a woman who’d known such privilege and had the most powerful men in Scotland at her feet had chosen to give her heart to him was humbling. It was hard to find the words, but he knew what his response had to be, it was what was in his heart. He lifted her chin and looked deeply into luminous blue eyes. “And I love you, you stubborn lass.”

She looked stunned. “You do? But why did you not tell me before?”

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “As this is a unique experience for me, I didn’t realize that this overwhelming irrationality I was feeling for you was love.”

She grinned. “Overwhelming irrationality? I suppose that is a good way of putting it. I didn’t realize it, either—until I thought I might lose you.”

He pulled her tighter, ignoring the stab of pain in his arm. “Never.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed. “Just try to get rid of me now. I have a reputation for being a touch headstrong, you know.”

He tensed suddenly, not daring to hope. “Does this mean you will agree to marry me?”

She raised her head and nodded, a wide smile breaking through the sparkly remnants of her tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Lachlan Maclean.”

Relief, happiness, and disbelief intersected in a moment of pure happiness. More moved by the moment than he could believe, he did not trust himself to speak. Instead, his mouth found hers in a long, hungry kiss. A kiss that spoke the truth of his heart far more eloquently than words ever could.

Chapter 16

He loves me. Flora thought her heart would burst each time she thought about it—which in the hours since the attack near the Faerie Pool was constantly.

With Gilly and Mary safely ensconced in the castle, Allan had returned with reinforcements—interrupting their kiss. And while he gathered the bodies of their fallen, Flora had tended to the wound on Lachlan’s arm. The blade had cut a deep gash in his shoulder that needed stitching, but she cleaned it and wrapped it with a swatch of linen from his ruined shirt until it could be tended to. Although he claimed it did not pain him, Flora had the distinct feeling that he was enjoying her fussing over him. Always grateful for an excuse to touch him, she made good use of the opportunity to do so.

Indeed, after the terror of the attack, she didn’t want to let go of him. Perhaps he sensed her need for the strength of his presence beside her, because he offered to have her ride with him on the return journey to the castle. An offer she willingly accepted. As she basked in the glow of her newly discovered feelings and the comforting embrace of the man she loved, the horror of the attack faded under the healing power of joy.

It seemed a sin to be so happy.

Even now, as she stood in her tower room preparing for bed, it didn’t seem possible that such fortune had found her. That which had eluded her mother for a lifetime, Flora had found in the most unexpected place—in the arms of a Highland chief who’d abducted her. It was ironic how things turned out. The thought that right now were it not for Lachlan she could be married to Lord Murray was nearly inconceivable. To think what she might never have known. The wonder, the magic of knowing that she loved and that love was returned.

She would have settled for a loveless marriage because she never thought she’d be able to find a man who could look beyond the prize and want her for herself. She’d been fighting for so long to protect herself from her mother’s unhappiness that she’d erected barriers around her heart, barriers that had taken a formidable man like Lachlan to topple. But now that she’d let go of her fears, she gave herself to him completely.

Flora never did anything by half, and in this it was no different.

Taking one last glance in the looking glass, she adjusted the tie of her silk dressing gown and blew out the candle.

Lachlan stood before the smoldering fire in his bedchamber, strangely restless. He took a long drink of
cuirm,
hoping to ease the burning in his shoulder and the burgeoning sense of unease stirring inside him. Unease that had started the moment they’d returned to the castle and he’d been forced to release her. Only when he held her in the protective enclosure of his embrace did he feel that nothing could come between them.

Damn. He paced across the room, trying to burn off some of this restless energy. Like the calm before the storm, his entire body felt on edge. He usually felt like this after battle, as though he needed a woman. He did, but it had nothing to do with the fighting earlier and everything to do with Flora.

All he could think about was taking her in his arms and making love to her. The only thing that kept him from going to her tonight was the knowledge that she needed to rest after the shock of witnessing her first battle—he could see by her reaction to the killing that it was so. He had to remind himself that in a few days she would be his forever.

The kiss today had left him wanting. A mere morsel for a man who was starving. Part of him just wanted to take her, to lay claim, and to seal the promise of their love in the most basic way. But another part of him, the honorable part, knew that he should wait until she knew the whole story.

The realization that their newly discovered love would soon be tested only contributed to his unease. Would knowing about the bargain he’d made with her cousin Argyll crush their love before it had a chance to bloom, or would it be strong enough to weather the storm? He did not delude himself: There was a storm brewing, and it would be a torrential one.

Now that he’d recognized his own feelings for what they were, he knew exactly what he had to lose—everything.

That realization had prompted him to take a dangerous gamble. In return for marrying Flora, Argyll had promised to help restore his castle and secure the release of his brother, John, from Blackness Prison. With Rory’s fighting men, he might not need Argyll for the former, and if he could find another way to get John out of Blackness, he wouldn’t need him for the latter. Without the bargain, an ulterior motive for marrying Flora would no longer exist.

Upon returning to the castle earlier, he’d convened a meeting of his most trusted
luchd-taighe
guardsmen to discuss not the attack by Hector, but an attempt to free his brother from Blackness Castle—the impenetrable royal stronghold that served as the king’s prison. A possibility that had seemed untenable until he’d received an interesting piece of information.

John was being held in the sea tower—aptly named, as it was built on the edge of the Firth of Forth. Although his brother was being held in the tower apartments—a privilege afforded prisoners of noble blood—the doors were steel and the staircases so narrow as to be virtually inaccessible.

The windows, however, were not.

If they could smuggle in some rope, John might be able to scale the tower wall and drop to a waiting
birlinn.
The problem had been how to get him the rope. Although they had a man positioned inside the castle, as a mere stable hand he would never make it past the tower guards.

His plan had been at a standstill until the last report, when a small but significant piece of information caught his attention. The prisoners were sometimes visited by a local minister.

It was just what he needed.

He had the final piece of his plan. A handful of men would detain the minister and “borrow” his vestments. One of the men would then pose as the minister and smuggle in the rope hidden under his robe. When night fell, John could make his escape.

They had surprise working in their favor. Sir James Sandilands, the keeper of the castle, wouldn’t be expecting a rescue attempt. For good reason, not many would be so bold—or foolhardy.

The most difficult part was deciding who should go. Lachlan had initially planned to go himself, but his guardsmen had argued against it. And as much as he hated it, he knew they were right. As chief, he could not risk capture—his clan would be left unprotected and ripe for pillage by Hector. Allan would go in his stead, and Hugh, one of Lachlan’s older warriors, would pose as the minister.

If something went wrong and he needed to rely on Argyll’s influence with the king to secure his brother’s release, Lachlan figured the news of the attempt would not reach either Argyll or the king in time for either to change his mind.

But now that his plan was in motion, it weighed on him. Though it was relatively straightforward, it was fraught with risk. Risk he would not take if he weren’t looking for any way out of his bargain with Argyll.

The alternative had become untenable.

The knock barely registered. His back was to the door as he was still gazing out the window to the darkened sea. Knowing that it would be Morag checking to make sure he had what he needed, he bade her enter.

“Bring me another flagon of
cuirm,
and then that will be all for the evening.”

“Not yet married and already you are ordering me about? I hope this is not a harbinger of things to come.”

At the sound of her voice, he tensed, his already frayed nerves flared.

He turned, fists clenched at his side, steeling himself against the shock of seeing the object of his desire materialize as if out of a dream. But no fantasy could have prepared him for seeing the woman he loved clad only in an ivory silk dressing gown, her long golden hair tumbling in heavy waves around her shoulders, her tiny feet bare.
Bloody hell, what was she trying to do, torture him?

“What are you doing here?” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “You should be abed.”

She moved toward him, the fire illuminating her lush figure so that he could see…

His heart stopped, and everything went perfectly still.
Everything.
God help him, he could see everything. She was naked under the thin swath of silk. Blood surged through his veins as his body went rigid—as every part of him went rigid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “And”—she glanced pointedly at the half-empty cup—“it seems neither could you.”

“What are you doing here, Flora?”

She kept moving toward him, hips swaying seductively, until she stood right in front of him. Close enough for her sweet feminine scent to flood his senses and make him crazed with desire.

“I would hope that was obvious.”

His heart pounded in his chest. It was, damn it, it was. She was giving herself to him—and God, how he wanted her.

She slipped her hands around his neck and pressed her body against his bare chest. The softness of the silk, her breasts crushed against him…heat, all he could think about was heat. The sensation was so intense, he nearly groaned. Hell, why hadn’t he put on a shirt? Because his arm hurt. But the only pain he felt right now was the agony of restraint. “I thought since we will be married in a few days that you might want to wait until we are man and wife,” he said, fighting to hold on to his good intentions.

A tiny furrow appeared between her brows. “But it takes two weeks to proclaim the banns.”

“I’ve written to your cousin about dispensing with banns.” They would pay a fine instead at the time of recording for the irregular marriage.

She arched a brow, clearly amused. “That was fast.”

He shrugged, masking the stab of guilt. “I didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.” And if his plan didn’t work, he wouldn’t wait another day to free his brother from the hellhole of Blackness Prison and his people from Duart’s suffering. To that end, he added, “I’ve written Rory as well.”

She smiled, nestling against him, the hard press of her nipples an erotic tease. “I’m flattered, but there is no reason to rush. I won’t change my mind. Though I’m sure my brother and cousin will be so eager to see me wed they will do whatever is necessary to ensure it is done quickly. I’m afraid my cousin has been rather annoyed with me lately.”

“With good reason, I’d wager.”

A naughty smile played upon her lips. “Perhaps.” Her nose crinkled adorably. “You don’t think there will be any problem in securing their agreement, do you?”

The irony of her question was not lost on him—it was all but decided. “I was very persuasive. They will have no objection.” Argyll would see that Rory agreed; there was no reason for him not to.

She gazed up at him with all the trust in the world. He had to look away.

“I know how persuasive you can be.” Her hand caressed the muscle of his uninjured arm, sending heat rippling through him. “Did you tell them…”

He knew what she was thinking. That she was no longer a virgin. “Not unless it is necessary.”

She nodded, relieved, and continued her stroking. Touching him. Her hands skimming over his body like the softest feather. A feather that singed a fiery path wherever she went.