Lord Keeper (14 page)

She thrashed even harder and found her skirt over her head. A hard pinch was felt on bare skin in almost the same spot his elbow had been. Her temper slipped past reason and, gripping the thing nearest her—Iain’s leg—Victoria bit down on his calf. He let out a warrior’s yell and his leg shot out in defense, nearly knocking her senseless. Spots raced across her vision. Iain pulled back on the reins and, yanking Victoria into his arms, slid from the saddle. He set her on her feet. She wobbled and he caught her before she toppled over.

“Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

He released her and she fell with a heavy thud to her backside.

“Sweet Jesu.” She reached back to rub the rise of her derrière. “You are a barbarian.”

“A barbarian would beat you, which you deserve.”

“You did,” she said, with vehemence.

“Nay, my lass. That was a gentle warning. Try such foolishness again and you will learn what a real beating is.”

Victoria stopped massaging her back and looked up at him. As his voice had indicated, no remorse showed in his expression. “I do not know why you are angry with me,” she said, suddenly understanding why Samuel had no wish to face him. “It is not my fault.”

“Not your fault! This whole affair is your doing. If you had kept your mouth shut—nay,” he raised a finger when she started to interrupt. “If you had kept quiet, Samuel would have made his posturing, just as he always does, then left without incident. It has gone on five years, and this is the first attempt to make good on that ridiculous threat.”

Heedless of the sudden throb in her head, Victoria scrambled to her feet. “Do not think to blame me for this—this—”

“This what?”

“This
habit
you Scots have of thinking you can make off with a female without so much as an introduction.”

“Nay, lass, this is not the same, and do not think I am ignorant of your part in this scheme.”

“I did not tell him to come for me.”

“You need not have said the words,” Iain’s voice rose a notch, and he took a step in her direction. “You as much as invited them to while I looked on.”

“I only wanted to escape you,” Victoria shouted with a quick step toward him before retreating again.

Iain’s hands worked at his sides. “So, then, you would rather marry Grant?”

“Nay,” she said. “That would not do at all.”

“Then, by God, we will end this once and for all.” Iain yanked her to him. “More than once you have driven me to the fire and left me there to burn. Tonight we burn together.”

One arm around her waist, Iain pushed her downward. A sense of falling assailed Victoria and she threw her arms around his neck, leaving not a hair’s breadth between their bodies as the force of his weight pinned her to the ground.

“What—” Her protest was cut off when his lips captured hers.

Her head spun and she tried to shake him off, but Iain moved his hips against her, bringing the dizzying recognition of his arousal. She shoved against his shoulders, but her grip weakened at the feel of the rhythm between them. She heard herself groan as his hand slid from her waist to tug on the sleeve of her dress. A quiver began deep inside her when his lips moved from her mouth, along her cheek, and down to where her shoulder now lay bare. Victoria twisted in his hold at the feel of her skirt again inching upward.

She gasped. “Nay—we cannot—”

Iain’s mouth came to her ear. “We can,” he whispered against the pulse in the hollow of her throat.

She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “This—” she breathed. “I cannot think.” Victoria pushed at him, and he lifted his head to look at her. “You…you are angry.” She realized an urge to cry…and the need to have him wrap his arms around her. “You only wish to punish me.”

“Angry?” he repeated. “Aye, I am angry—angry that your foolish pride nearly took you from me. As for punishment, I am the one who has suffered these past weeks. But no more.” He looked hard at her. “You want me.” His tone, somehow so sure, elicited a shiver.

“I—I do not know.” She shook her head as much out of an effort to clear her mind as to discourage him.
And perhaps deny the truth?

She opened her mouth to deny the unbidden thought, but Iain kissed her. His hands worked at the laces of her bodice. The cloth parted and his head dipped to take a nipple between his lips. Vague awareness that his hand was again rucking up her skirt rang a dull bell in her head. She moved beneath him, but escape became a muddled thought with the warmth of his knee wedging itself between her thighs.

Another instant, and his kilt came up, their bodies now in intimate contact. He gripped her legs and urged her knees up in a motion that was gentler than expected. Iain settled between her thighs, and her fingers curved into his shoulders when a wave of dizziness overtook her.

Iain groaned, shaking her from the trance, and she realized his body was seeking entrance into hers. He probed, the hard length of him pressing against her. Drawing back, he reached between them to part the moist folds that barred his way. Victoria flinched at the intimate touch. He responded with gentle kisses along her cheek and throat, then once again found the rosy bud of her breast with his mouth. Reality slipped from her, and Iain surged, seating himself firmly inside.

Victoria stilled. There had been no pain as expected. Instead, her body adjusted to the sudden invasion with ease. Iain kissed the valley between her breasts and slid his hand upward to cup her face. He captured her eyes with his, holding her there for a long moment before covering her mouth in a languorous kiss.

Iain eased out of her, then back again with practiced precision. Victoria braced against expected pain. His thrusts quickened, and when his hips banged against her she was reminded of the day before when she’d watched him crushing rocks. She sensed the control in his movements and trembled in response to the power she knew he kept at bay.

“All is well, love,” he whispered as though he understood her fear. “All is…well—forgive me, sweet,” he rasped. “I cannot—” his movements became frenzied.

His arms wound around her shoulders and he pumped wildly into her. An unexpected wave of pleasure coursed through her. Panic gripped her at the unfamiliar sensation. She tried moving, but Iain held her so tight she couldn’t move. Another wave, and she felt the quiver increase. Another, and then another, but before she could grasp the meaning, Iain gave one last thrust, emptying himself into her.

They lay, their hearts moving in furious rhythm together. What had she done? How had she allowed this to happen…and how was it possible she had found pleasure? Her heartbeat slowed. Iain lifted himself onto his elbows and stared down at her. Victoria was glad for the shadows. She feared what she might read in his face. Or was it what he might read in hers?

He brushed aside locks of hair that lay askew on her forehead. “I suppose—”

The sound of approaching horses jerked his head up. He cursed and jumped up, pulling her with him. The cold of the night engulfed Victoria, and she felt as though someone had doused her with a bucket of icy water.

“Christ,” Iain muttered, and Victoria glanced down to see her bodice still lay open.

She reached for the ties, but her hands shook so badly he shoved them aside and made quick work of the job himself. He hustled her to where the horse stood some feet away and hoisted her into the saddle. Iain mounted even as his men arrived.

“They are long gone,” one reported.

Victoria felt Iain’s fingers tighten around the reins.

“Not surprising,” he muttered. “Seeing as they left their package behind.”

* * *

The village was abed, the excitement of the lass’s
kidnapping
finally abated, and Iain headed for her room in the small inn. It was near dawn, but he had no intention of waking up without her.

He entered the dark bedchamber and made his way to the table in the corner. Iain lit a candle, then crossed to the bed. Gazing down at her, hair spilled across her shoulders and onto the white cover that surrounded her, Iain’s body responded to the sweet picture. They had come a long way since that simple kiss yesterday. Iain smiled. Perhaps now was the time to teach her the finer points of a proper kiss. He strode to the corner and pulled off his boots. She stirred and he paused. When she didn’t wake, Iain unwound his breacan and tossed it over a chair.

He returned to the bed, placed a hand on either side of her, bent, and brushed the whisper of a kiss across her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. With a small cry, she clutched the blanket to her and shrank against the pillows.

“Shh, love, ’tis just me,” Iain soothed, running his fingers along her arm.

“What are you doing here?” She scanned the room as if expecting to find a specter lurking in the shadows.

“You think I would spend the night away from you?” Iain eased into the bed beside her. “I would not have you think me a man who would take his pleasure and forget his duty,” he said, knowing full well his pleasure had been the very thing on his mind.

Her eyes widened as he drew her to him. His body rumbled at the feel of her. Gently, he brought his lips to hers, but kept the embrace feather light, stroking her with his tongue. Her mouth parted just enough to allow the entrance he desired, and Iain detected a small tremor in response to his light sparring.

He slid a hand beneath the blanket and covered a breast. Her gasp urged him to knead the soft flesh before rolling a taut nipple between his fingers. Her grip on the blanket relaxed and Iain tugged it free. She reached for the cover.

“Nay, love.” Iain eased her back. “You need not feel ashamed, ’tis only you and I.”

Before she could argue, he slid an arm around her and rolled onto her. Feeling the beckoning call of her heart against his, Iain closed his eyes and drank of the harmony between them. The song of her soul pulled him further inward, sinking him deeper and deeper into those misty depths. He wanted to bury himself in her, but the need to hear her soft sighs stayed him taking her, and he captured a nipple between his teeth.

“So soft,” he breathed. “Like silk.”

Iain slid a hand downward and sucked in breath when his palm came in contact with her bare thigh. He cupped his palm around the triangle of curls that surrounded her femininity, and her breath quickened when he probed the sensitive place there, finding moisture. With the knowledge that she wanted him came a new hunger, and the realization enflamed him until thought became impossible.

“Christ, love, you are ready for me even now.”

He slid his hands across her body in heated anticipation, purposely leaving her no time to consider anything but the feel of his body moving against hers. A moan came from deep within her, and Iain lifted his lips from her mouth.

“Aye, sweet, make as much noise as you like.” Her eyes widened, and Iain chuckled. “No need to be bashful, ’tis music to my ears.”

She wriggled, clearly torn between embarrassment and burgeoning desire. With more quiet laughter, Iain slanted his head over hers and continued his caresses. When she moved impatiently beneath him, he trailed hot kisses along her body, finally reaching her stomach. Tangling her hand in his hair, she gave him a tug. Iain smiled against her.

“Patience, love, I always finish what I start.”

His mouth covered the intimate part of her and she bolted upright. “Sweet God in heaven. N-nay, my lord.” She pushed at him. “
You must not
.”

Without interruption, Iain shoved her onto her back. He thought it ingenious when she tried to gain purchase with her feet and slide away from him, but he wrapped his arms around her legs and trapped her feet beneath his weight. Once again, he brushed her lightly with his tongue. She rocked against him in another obvious attempt to dislodge him, and Iain considered bringing her pleasure to a hard and quick conclusion. The dawning realization that she had no idea what was in store for her opened the door to such interesting possibilities that he paused to look at her.

“Are you ready for a kiss, lass?” He winked. “It is time you learn what a proper kiss is.”

Iain took her fully into his mouth. He teased, tugging and caressing with his tongue, drawing out her pleasure. Her squirming took on the form of a slight rocking of her hips and, at last, she breathed a plea. She gave a low cry, and her body stiffened, then arched in a full climax. When her back relaxed onto the bed, Iain slid up the length of her, his body taut with a fierce anticipation that brought him inside her with a single thrust. Moist heat surrounded him, and the plan to savor her was undone. He caught her bottom with splayed fingers and plunged deep, again and again.

“Sweet, you feel so good, I vow, I can never have enough of you.”

Her hands slid down the length of his back until the gentle pressure against his buttocks nearly sent him over the edge into oblivion. “Aye, love,” he groaned. “Do not stop.”

“Dear God, I never—” she whispered.

“Neither did I, love, neither did I.”

In the end, his own shout of triumph was no less glorious than hers.

Chapter Sixteen

Four strokes of the clock chimed as Iain lifted the quill to tap the feather down noiselessly on his desk. The quill didn’t rise again as he stared at where his fingers gripped the nib.

“So, the lass is not so alone,” he said. “Edwin Hockley, Earl of Lansbury, brother of the lady’s dead husband, has come to claim his sister.” Iain shifted his gaze past Father Brennan to Thomas, who stood near the fireplace. “Mayhap you are gifted with second sight.”

His cousin shrugged. “It is said I have an uncanny way.”

“Uncanny is one word for it,” Iain murmured before looking again at Father Brennan. “I must thank you, Father, for sending Hockley and his men through Kalhurn pass. That gives us valuable time.”

“Thank the Lord I arrived at Fauldun Castle ahead of them.” He made the sign of the cross over his chest, then his mouth dipped into an almost vicious frown. “You cannot let him take her.”

“Never fear. I will not.”

“He is a cold one, that
Sassenach
,” Father Brennan bit out. “If his brother was anything like him, she is better off without either of them. Though, he is no fool. Do not mistake that.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. It is clear why the lass was at Montrose Abbey. You were right, Father.”

Father Brennan scowled. “You know I said nothing concerning the matter.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“You think yourself clever, do you not, man?”

“Perhaps not so clever,” Iain replied, “but not a fool, either. It was simple enough to deduce. A woman such as she would not sequester herself in remote Scotland for naught. She is full of life, passion, not the withering flower that so often craves convent life.”

“Not every woman who takes the veil does so out of a need for solace,” Father Brennan’s voice took on a disgruntled edge. “In some ways you are no different than that
Sassenach
,” he muttered.

“What is that you say?” Iain said.

“You have no more reverence for the church than he does. Likened it to a garbage heap.”

“
A garbage heap.
” Iain’s jaw clenched. “I never said such a thing. What exactly did he say?”

“I asked him if he would desecrate holy ground. He said,
‘One man’s holy ground is another’s garbage heap.’
”

The quill snapped in Iain’s hands. “A threat, plain and simple.”

“Of course it was a threat. I am no more a fool than you,” Father Brennan replied acidly. “Though, that isna’ saying a great deal. Anyway, he knows you took her, Iain.”

“So it seems. One wonders how that is possible.”

“Aye, one wonders,” Father Brennan said.

Iain slid his gaze onto Thomas. “Has my seer anything to say?”

Thomas shrugged. “This is beyond my scope, Cousin. Perhaps I have been nothing more than lucky.”

“Perhaps,” Iain said.

Father Brennan stood. “What do you plan to do?” The priest’s voice was hard, but Iain didn’t miss the unsteadiness.

Iain leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. “I cannot think of a finer time for a wedding, can you?”

There was silence before Thomas roared with laughter. Father Brennan shot him a reproving glance, then said to Iain, “I know you want her, Iain, but is that all you can think about?”

Iain cocked a brow. “I would have thought you in favor of avoiding another feud.”

“Blast it, you should not be enjoying this half as much as you are.” The priest crossed the room to the sideboard. He yanked the top off one of the bottles and poured a hefty drink before facing Iain. “You would force her?” He snorted. “I would not have thought it of you.”

“I have not used trickery with her,” Iain answered.

“But you do not mind taking advantage of the situation, eh?”

“What would you have me do, ask him to leave me to my courtship? The English do not take kindly to their women being sullied by the likes of me. The only thing that will end this matter is if she is my wife. Did she ever mention this man to you?”

The distress on the priest’s face confirmed the gnawing feeling in his gut even before Father Brennan said, “Nay, never. I thought her family was dead.”

“Yet, she never appealed to him.”

Father Brennan sighed. “I mistook her being at Montrose Abbey for wishing to avoid another marriage.”

“I thought the same,” Iain said. “It would be difficult for King Henry to command her to marry when he did not know where to find her. As her only living relative”—Iain gave a harsh laugh— “if Hockley is her only living relative, the role of protector would fall to him. Odd, she never played that card.”

“One would almost think it was him she wished to avoid,” Thomas said.

“It would,” Iain agreed. “I was willing to give her time to understand that I am not like her husband, but things have changed. As you are wont to say, Father, God works in mysterious ways
.
Who are we to question His methods?”

“You are a fine one for quoting scripture when it suits you,” Father Brennan grumbled.

Despite the situation, Iain smiled. “I have the makings of a fine priest, eh?”

Father Brennan groaned. “Lord, have mercy on us all.”

Iain straightened. “Thomas, find out where they are. If all goes well, they should not arrive until tomorrow.” He addressed Father Brennan. “You will perform the wedding?”

Father Brennan finished his drink in one gulp, then placed the glass on the sideboard. “Hockley will be furious once he learns I am here, but if you feel ’tis best, I will do it.”

“Hockley will do no more or less either way,” Iain said. “It is the lass I am concerned with.”

“Aye, well, God be with you on that mission,” Father Brennan walked toward the door. “You will need all the help you can get.”

* * *

Iain waited no more than fifteen minutes before deciding his future bride had no intention of attending the evening meal. She was getting better at hiding. The stables hadn’t been his first choice to search. Yet, another half an hour passed before he found her tucked away in one of the stalls. Filling the small doorway, Iain braced a hand against either side of the frame and gazed down at her, legs stretched out before her, ankle crossed over ankle.

“Did you need something, my lord?” she asked without looking up from her book.

“The evening meal is being served.” He had meant to harden his voice, but found no heart for it.

“I am not hungry,” she replied, turning a page.

“That is not the point.”

“Nay?”

“Do not push me too far tonight, love. I am in no mood for games.”

“You need not worry about my games, sir, if you would cease trying to force me to do something I have no wish to do.”

“You belong beside me,” he said. “Or was last night not enough to teach you that?”

She slammed the thick volume shut with a quick flip of her wrist and jumped to her feet. “Teach me? What do you think to teach me?” Her cheeks flushed, and Iain realized she had learned even more than he suspected. “You need not worry that I will fall into temptation again,” she added in a rush of words.

A silence lingered before Iain dropped his hands from the doorway and took two paces, halting in front of her. He reached forward and wound a lock of her hair around a finger.

“Temptation, nothing more?” he asked.

She remained quiet.

“You not only want me, love, but need me.”

Her lips tightened into a righteous line. “Would you care to wager?”

Iain stilled. “Beware, sweet. I am a man who would take such a wager seriously.”

“You think that because I am a woman I am any less honorable?”

He regarded her. “What would you wager?”

“Whatever you wish,” she replied with a haphazard shrug.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Iain nodded, his attention again on her hair. “Would you admit the truth?”

“That is a useless wage,” she retorted. “There is nothing to admit.”

He dropped her hair and inclined his head in ascent. “As you wish, my lass. An hour of your time, then?”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

“It is simple enough. You promise to do anything I ask for a single hour.”

“Agreed. And if I win?”

“The same.”

“I do not know,” she mused. “An hour of your time is not overly valuable.”

“Two hours, then,” he offered.

“Nay, I think I would like to visit another MacPherson stronghold.”

“Done,” Iain answered.

“As to the rules—”

Iain yanked her to him. “There are no rules—save, you cannot deny the truth once it is finished.”

He sealed her mouth beneath his and, in two steps, backed her against the wall. She seized his shoulders, and a thrill raged through him when he understood her hold was in order to keep from crumbling beneath his advance. Her palms flattened against his chest and she pushed at him. Her mouth twisted free of his.

“Foul play, my lord. I—I am not prepared.”

“If I leave it to you, lass, you will never be prepared. Ready or not, the time is now.”

He cupped her neck and again covered her mouth with his as he yanked at the ties on her bodice. The string loosened, and Iain grasped a taut nipple as a breast spilled into his palm. She dragged in a sharp breath, and Iain slipped his tongue past her lips and into her mouth while he rolled the pink fruit between his fingers. He reached around her and cupped her buttocks. Pulling her to him, Iain moved her hips in a circular motion against him.

She broke her lips free. “Please,” she said in a choked voice. “’Tis not need you intend” —she broke off, her breath quickening—“but lust.”

“This is need,” Iain said against her throat.

He lifted her skirt and tried to slip his knee between her legs. She remained firm, so he slid a hand downward, his fingers seeking and finding her moist warmth.

“Why deny this?” He stroked gently, feeling the tension loosen in her body. “
Why
?” he demanded. “By all that is holy, you will, once and for all, glimpse true fire.” Breaking away, he knelt before her. Fisting her skirt, he wrapped an arm around her hips and drew her to him.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and she pushed hard. “Sweet Jesu, y-you are not serio—” Her words turned into a soft cry when his mouth connected with her womanly flesh.

He probed gently and was rewarded with her intake of breath. Her hands moved to steady herself on his shoulders as he flicked his tongue in a quick motion against her sex. Iain drank long and deep of the sensual intoxicant, alternating between slow swipes of his tongue between her folds and flicks against her most sensitive place. Her fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders. He drove her further, finally sucking with gentle pulls, then harder until she cried out in unison with the tremor that ran through her body, and a deafening roar filled his head.

Iain stood. Her knees buckled. He caught her to him, and she gave him a halfhearted shove. Lifting her with one arm, Iain yanked up his kilt. He locked gazes with her as he wrapped her legs around his waist, then settled her just above his erection. In one quick motion, he brought her down onto him. She shuddered and her head dropped onto his shoulder.

“
Christ
,” Iain muttered when her hot breath on his neck sent a thundering shock through him.

Staggering forward until the wall was behind her, he sought her mouth, starved for the taste of her. He began to move inside her and her fingers tensed around his arms as she gave into the rhythm. He bent his head and closed his lips over a nipple as he quickened his thrusts. Dim awareness of the rough wood of the wall digging into his knuckles played in the back of his mind, but pain mingled with pleasure, and where one began and the other ended Iain had no reckoning.

Her breath came in short spurts. Realizing she was nearing her release, Iain stopped. She lifted her head from his shoulder. Her brow furrowed and Iain recognized the look of confusion that crept into her eyes. He bent, his mouth almost touching hers, and eased himself out of her, then back in with a calculated surge. She stiffened, sucked in breath, and Iain knew it was pleasure she experienced, not fear. Her body trembled as he repeated the motion while kissing her.

The soft kiss turned hard when her grip tightened and she arched, giving a small cry with her climax. Iain’s heart pumped wildly as her softness constricted around him and his body convulsed. His final thrusts brought with them the residue of gratification and he drove deep, the last waves of pleasure scorching the very roots of his senses.

Iain held her, not moving, until both their pulses beat to a more natural rhythm. Finally, she relaxed, and he lifted her off him, then lowered her feet to the ground. Stepping back, he looked down at her. Her eyes were hidden beneath lowered lashes, but the soft flush of red in her cheeks told him she was more than a little surprised by her reaction to his lovemaking. He adjusted her bodice, tied the strings, then placed her hand through the crook of his arm and led her in a leisurely walk back to the great hall.

Speculative glances gave way to knowing looks and grins when Iain seated Victoria next to him. He hid a smile, thankful she had no idea her tousled hair and disheveled dress bore testimony she had just risen from her lover’s bed. Father Brennan’s appearance from the staircase turned the table’s attention away from the lass, and her face lit. She rose.

“Good evening, Father.” she greeted the priest. “I had not expected to see you.”

Father Brennan took the hand she extended and clasped it between his palms. “I told Iain I would stay to perform the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” she repeated.

Iain heard the shock in her voice and pushed to his feet.

“When is the wedding to take place?” Father Brennan asked.

Iain strode toward them. “Directly after supper,” he replied, then to her, “Lass, there is some—”

She faced him and he stopped short at sight of the betrayal he read in her eyes. His heart jumped to a gallop. She could only feel betrayal if she cared.

“The
wager
was not well done of you, my lord.” She whirled, narrowly missing a serving maid who had stopped and was watching the discourse with open interest.