Maiden of Inverness (15 page)

When the knock came, Meridene put her letters in a trunk with Sim's precious ransom. Then she went to the door.

Leaning casually against the frame, he appeared at ease, and his eyes glowed with merriment. His hair was smoothed back and tied at the nape with a strip of leather. The style accentuated his high forehead and strong cheekbones. A stubble darkened his cheeks and circled his mouth, drawing attention to his lips.

The memory of their soul-searing kiss jolted her.

“You summoned me?”

Was he, too, thinking of that moment in the chapel?

“ 'Tis a bonny dress, Meridene. The yellow favors you well.”

He
was
remembering, and she had the impression that he wanted to kiss her again. Annulment, she told herself, and the devil with romantic notions. She had business with him. “Come in.”

She offered him wine. He held up a tankard. Why hadn't she noticed it in his hand? Because she'd been too consumed with worry. As if to prove the point, her palms grew damp.

“Ellen said you wished to see me alone.”

Lord, she'd kept the girl's company too often of late, for Meridene couldn't carry an idea from one heartbeat to the next without a thought of Revas Macduff getting in the way.

“Yes. I did want to speak with you.”

“Good, for I have news as well.”

A reprieve. “What is it?”

He took a long drink from the tankard. “You first. I insist.”

She went to the table and poured herself a cup of wine. Then she walked to the loom and examined the newest work. Her effort had been poor; she'd woven acorns on a rowan tree. The mistake was Revas's fault.

And she was flitting about like Ellen.

“You're limping, Meridene. Have you hurt yourself?”

Her toe smarted every time she thought about his locked door. But she wasn't about to explain the injury to him. “No.”

“ 'Twould be best if I heard it from you.”

At his stern tone, she started. “Heard what?” The words came out as a squeak.

He chuckled. “Whatever it is you're trying to hide. Secrets are poorly kept in Elginshire.”

Except his twenty women. Even the handmaidens knew nothing of those tarnished souls. “What makes you think I keep a secret?”

He joined her at the loom. “You're being cordial to me. That's an odd rowan tree.”

She blocked his view of the tapestry. “The light was poor last night. Everyone here is always nice to you.”

“They know me.”

His self-importance knew no bounds, and he looked taller, broader, in his rugged hunting garb.

“Have you blackened Sim's name?”

She took a swallow of the honeyed wine. “No.”

“You've run off the Montfichets?”

That made Meridene smile, and the guessing game relaxed her. “If Sibeal cannot force her husband to leave your service, how could I?”

“Have you turned the handmaidens against each other?”

On the ship she had threatened to wreck his household. He shouldn't be so clever as to throw her words in her face. She shouldn't like him for it, either. But she did. “No. Ellen, Lisabeth, and Serena are the most loyal of companions.”

“Out with it then, Meridene.”

Catching his gaze, she lifted her chin. “I went to see Father Thomas.”

He raised his brows as if waiting for a revelation.

“I asked for an annulment.”

His gaze sharpened, but he did not move. “Our humble holy man refused.”

“Humble? Have you spoken with him?”

“Nay.”

“Then how did you know he refused?”

He gave her a smile she was coming to loathe and waved his mug toward the dressing room. “You haven't packed your belongings.”

She seethed with rage. “How dare you take me lightly.”

Stopping at the bed, he leaned against one of the posts. “What did Father Thomas say?”

His carefree reaction baffled her. “He told me that no one in the Highlands would aid me.”

“ 'Tis better said that everyone in the Highlands seeks your happiness.”

“So long as I find it here and with you.”

He sighed and shook his head. “How do you know 'tis not here with me?”

Her heart's desire lay in the safety of England. “Because I could never be happy within a king's mile of my father.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Your father wants no one in the Highlands to be happy.”

“How delightful that you've found someone to despise. In that we are evenly met.”

“He has sworn to destroy the Community of the Realm, rather than see me wear the Highland crown.”

Bruised feelings made her say, “I do not care a blunted needle for clans, crowns, and garlands of rowans.”

At her angry words, he dropped onto a chair and threw back his head. Arms dangling, eyes closed, he looked as if he'd expired from his own fury.

Wondering why he acted so odd, she circled him. “If your bad humor has killed you, I am not aggrieved.”

He smiled and his chest rocked with suppressed laughter.

“Will you attend me?” she demanded.

“Have I a last wish?”

Baffled by his quick change in moods, she spat, “Only if it doesn't involve me.”

“Not at all,” he said much too expansively. “I should like you to call up those nibbling Maidens to welcome me into heaven. A man of eternal patience deserves a reward.”

Realization dawned. “You're drunk.”

“Drunk. Hum.” He savored the word. “ 'Tis true I've had a full measure of Macqueen's best ale. At first, I feared that your biting wit had wasted the effects.” Toasting her with the tankard, he said, “Thank the saints, the spirits have prevailed. I am impervious to your scorn.”

Drunk. For days she'd thought him away providing meat for the table and contemplating their last embrace. He'd been making merry with one of those wretched Macqueens. “Get out.”

He breathed deeply through his nose, his jaw again taut.

“Shall I call the porter?”

He began to drum his fingers.

The wrath that had been simmering since her unsuccessful meeting with Father Thomas now came to a full boil. “Pity your purchased priest is occupied. I should think he'd make the perfect nursemaid. He tends your business well.”

His hand curled into a fist.

Relishing his loss of control, she pushed onward. “Perhaps one of your twenty women will carry you back to your cave.”

In the blink of an eye, his smile returned.

Her better judgment fled. “You admit to keeping those women?”

“Would you believe me if I said I did not?”

“Would you give them up if I asked?”

“Ah.” He studied her over the rim of the tankard. “Once again, we have the pleasure of facing a quandary.”

“Your favorite pastime.”

“My second favorite.” He gave her the full power of his smile. “You are my first.”

Ignoring the voice of reason, she said, “I'm certain those women want you. That kiss in the chapel meant nothing to me.”

Like the lion that was his symbol, he sprang from the chair and pinned her against the wall. “Then why mention
that
kiss? You were interested, Meridene, and your passion came not from obligation. You like me, and it frightens you.”

“I loathe you, and it delights me.”

He leaned into her, pressing his chest against hers.

“What are you doing?”

“Guess.”

“Past crushing me against the wall, I haven't a notion.”

His chest jerked with laughter. “You've a fire in you, Meridene, and I like it well. But know you this, my jealous wife, I am resolved to our marriage.”

“Jealous?” She fought the force of his will. “You want me only for the sword.”

His expression softened, and his gaze grew hungry, exploring her face and neck. “I am also resolved to having you lie naked beside me. I will discover if your breasts are as lovely as I imagine. Then I will suckle them, and when I've had my fill, I will taste and nibble your other sweet places. You will rejoice in our marriage bed.”

Vivid pictures rose in her mind. “I doubt you'll find the time, and I will not yield.”

His grin turned wicked and he held the tankard to her mouth. “Everyone yields to Macqueen's brew. Would you care for a taste?”

He wore good humor like a cloak. She had concessions to gain. “Thank you, no. Since you are so
resolved
to keeping me, am I to have any money of my own?”

“Am I to know what it's for?”

“Messengers to deliver my letters. I've written to Sister Margaret and others.”

“Sister Margaret knows where you are.”

“Drummond told her.”

Suddenly exhausted, he rested his forehead against the wall, his cheek almost touching hers. He smelled of the forest, of woodsmoke, of a long ride in the sunshine.

“Randolph will take your letter to Sister Margaret. He leaves tomorrow for his brother Drummond's estate.”

“I've also written to the pope.”

“ 'Twill gain you naught. Moray has twice challenged the church to reinstate your betrothal to him. Twice was he denied. Our vows stand.”

At her father's command, Meridene had been promised at birth to the man who was now the earl of Moray. Their betrothal had been formalized on her fifth birthday. “The pope has not heard
my
plea.”

“Very well. If you will do something for me, I will send your message to the pope.”

Now that he had conceded, she stood firm. “I will agree to nothing that involves Clan Chapling or the sword.”

“So you've said. But will you try to enjoy yourself for as long as you are here?”

His ploy was as clear as rainwater. He thought to seduce her into staying.
'Twill be enjoyable, seeing you yield to the lure of the Highlands.
He'd said that shortly after kidnapping her.

“Have I your word?”

She'd mastered the art of feigning happiness at an early age, and she rather liked the idea of making friends of her handmaidens. After she returned to England, she hoped they would speak well of their mentor. “I swear.”

“ 'Tis a bargain we've struck. Do you go back on it, I will punish you.”

“You've already promised to beat me and toss me in your dungeon. I am suitably frightened of your wrath.”

“And fearful of all else,” he murmured.

He thought her a coward. Her first instinct was to prove him wrong, but he was too close, and a confrontation favored him. She hadn't the small advantage of flight, not with his shoulders blocking her view and his warmth seeping through her clothes.

“Unless,” he went on, “you can find the courage to seal our bargain with a kiss.”

Would the kiss be as stirring as before? Surely not. “It's your custom.”

“The Macgillivrays avoid bargains.”

Her family were strangers. She knew more about Ellen and Serena than she remembered of her own kin. “I am not like them.”

“I've always said 'twas so.”

Calmness spread through her, and she had the strangest desire to thank him. She had given her word to put aside her reservations.

“Too late,” he murmured, and put his mouth on hers.

Her back instinctively bowed, and his hand curled effortlessly to support her waist. As easily as needle slips into thread, they settled into the intimacy. A sense of belonging engulfed her, and her mind flew back to a girl and a boy who had faced an enemy king.

The vision alarmed her. She broke the kiss. “I'm certain you'll want to return to your drunken friends now.”

He studied her for so long, she thought he would refuse to leave. Still watching her, he pushed away from the wall. “Give me your letters.”

Before he could change his mind, she fetched the messages and handed them to him. “You swear you'll have them delivered?”

“I swear on my honor as chieftain of Clan Macduff.” He walked to the door.

She remembered that he'd also wanted to talk to her. “What did you wish to tell me?”

Over his shoulder, he said, “Ana and John Sutherland have gone missing.”

Revas closed the door behind him. Like a plunge in the ocean, that kiss had cleared his head of the effects of Macqueen's brew. Regrettably sober, he made his way to his chamber, his body tense with desire, his mind spinning with her confession and his own lie. He'd send a messenger to the pope, but he'd give young Leslie instructions to go by way of a tour of his family's French estates. By the time the emissary delivered Meridene's letter, she'd be too busy suckling their third or fourth child to think of dissolving her marriage.

Revas couldn't forget the feel of her lips and the gift of her surrender. Although short-lived now, her yielding moments were on the rise. For the hundredth time he remembered kneeling beside her in the church and feeling her watching him, answering his immediate prayer. The kiss had stunned him, for in that brief moment of intimacy she had lowered the barrier to her heart and given him a glimpse of the enchanting woman within.

She wanted to love him; he could feel her need, but the cruelties of the past were too fresh in her mind. His plan to woo her was simple enough. Now she'd given her word to put aside her intolerance. It was a place to start, and if that last kiss was a sign, his vanguard was on the move. He'd succeeded in uniting the Highland clans, save one. The very jewel in the Macgillivray treasure belonged to him. And she kissed like a woman eager to solve a puzzle.

Fired by determination, he called for a hot bath, then took the steps in a run. He found Sheriff Brodie waiting for him outside the locked door to his chamber.

“The lass tried to open it at least a dozen times while you were away,” Brodie said.

Revas couldn't help grinning. “She did?”

Brodie couldn't hide his concern. “Oh, Revas. What sins have you committed to reap her for penance?”