Margo Maguire (18 page)

She clutched Lachann’s shirt to steady herself, and his hands drifted to the sides of her breasts. Then he cupped their fullness and created a firestorm of need.

In both of them.

Lachann barely touched the tips of her breasts before they became tight peaks of arousal. He could not help but break their kiss and slide his lips down to her throat. He moved further down, then touched his tongue to one taut nipple while he teased the other with his fingers.

She made a low sound of pleasure, inciting him to reach ’round to her bonny backside and pull her fully against him.

Chapter 27

C
atrìona paced before the fireplace in her sewing room. Not that she ever did any sewing there. But she’d never had a man there, either—not until Cullen Macauley had come to Kilgorra.

“For heaven’s sake, Cullen, go out there and see what’s happened.” They’d heard a crash and some voices. Clearly, something was going on.

It infuriated her when he rested lazily against the cushions of the settee and watched her. “Why? Unless the keep is on fire—which I doubt very much, since it is made of stone—I don’t see why we should care about a wee, pucklie clatter.”

He swore he’d had naught to do with the fire at the distillery, and Catrìona believed him. Why would he want to destroy the very thing he thought was most valuable on the isle? He intended to expand the whiskey trade and make Kilgorra’s brew the most coveted in all of Britain and France.

She narrowed her eyes at the man. “Cullen . . .”

“ ’Twas likely a servant dropping something heavy. Come over here, pet. I’m not through with you.”

“I should go back to my bedchamber,” she said. Without anyone seeing her, of course. Then she could come out as though she’d been there all night, and start asking questions. What if something serious had happened?

“You’d risk someone seeing you?”

Catrìona crossed her arms over her breasts, so very thinly covered by a pretty sark Anna had made her. She would never tell Anna how very much she prized the thing, for it had played a large part in many of her seductions. Catrìona was always very careful never to let any of her men remove it from her body—it was far too delicate, and could easily tear. The garment was nearly transparent and so beautifully made that it tempted every man who’d seen her in it.

She chewed her lip, trying to decide what to do. Would MacMillan leave Kilgorra now that the granary was gone? Suddenly, Cullen did not seem so very appealing. He seemed small and petty compared to Lachann. . . .

“Come now, Catrìona. You know you want to.”

No, this time, the wee wren did not want to.

He got up and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck as he skittered one hand down her back to her buttocks.

“When are you going to tell MacMillan that you’re going to marry me? And not him?”

“You know I have no choice in this, Cullen,” Catrìona said, lying a little, hoping ’twould put him off for now. “ ’Tis really my father’s decision.”

G
esu,
but the press of Anna’s bare body against his arousal was as near to heaven as Lachann had been in many a month. He’d come so very close that morn, and his need for her had not abated in the least.

She slid her hands through his hair and held his head in place, and Lachann surrendered his own groan of pleasure.

Next, she would reach beneath his plaid and—

Lachann quickly bent to retrieve the towel cloth he’d removed from her. He wrapped it ’round her and then lifted her into his arms. Pushing open the door, he carried her through it and did not stop until he arrived at his own room. He went inside and set Anna on her feet, then reached behind him to latch the door.

Naught was going to interrupt him this time.

Lachann slid his hand ’round her waist and pulled her close. He pressed his mouth to her throat, then moved lower, removing the toweling cloth as he went. Her lips parted and he moved up to touch his mouth to hers. He slid his tongue inside, deepening the kiss as she leaned into him.

Lachann grazed her flushed skin with the back of his hand, relishing how sweetly soft she was, from her narrow shoulders, down her back, reaching the curve of her hips, then ’round to the peaks of her breasts.

As Lachann’s hands explored, Anna made a quiet sound of pure surrender, grabbing hold of the plaid at his shoulder and shoving it down. He cupped one of her breasts, then bent to lave it with his tongue.

Ach, ’twas the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

“
Lachann
. . .” She put her hand on his chest, and when her fingers slid across his nipple, his cock throbbed in anticipation.

He took her to the bed, then lifted her onto it, coming down over her. He felt her tremble, and then her arms went ’round him as her eyes drifted closed. Lachann felt her fingers knife through the hair at his nape as he trailed kisses down her throat and to her breasts.

Naught had ever pleased him so well, except perhaps when he slid one hand down to the crux of her legs and found her moist and ready for him.

“Sweet Anna.”

Lachann was as hard as his claymore, and aching to slide into her. But he wanted so much more. Wanted what they shared to be as incredible for her as he knew ’twould be for him.

Moving down, he skittered kisses across her belly while he traced his fingers ’round her feminine sheath, using his thumb to fondle the sensitive nub at its apex. She let out a startled sound when he put his mouth to the spot and licked.

“Lachann!”

“Aye, love.”

She shuddered, and her breath quickened.

He entered her with one finger while he continued to pleasure her with his tongue. She moaned, and Lachann suddenly felt all her muscles tighten ’round him.

“That’s it, my bonny one. Come for me.”

He heard her breath catch, and then she made a quiet whimper of complete and utter satisfaction.

He shifted his position and came over her again, settling between her thighs. His cock grew impossibly harder as it nestled against her warm cleft, and Lachann groaned with need. “Now, Anna.”

She was so incredibly tight. Lachann entered her slowly, then stopped, feeling nearly mad with need. “
Anna
.”

She lifted her hips, and suddenly he was fully inside her, inside heaven. “Oh, Lachann . . .” She wrapped her arms ’round him and pulled him close.

Lachann closed his eyes against the sudden flood of sensation, then moved against her in a rhythm that she met, stroke for stroke.

The pleasure was deep and intense, and Lachann prolonged it until he felt Anna tighten ’round him once again, crying out softly with pure sensation. “Aye, lass.”

His own climax shuddered through him then, and she moved with him, wreaking every intense drop of pleasure from his body.

Keeping their bodies joined, Lachann propped himself on one forearm and looked down at her while caressing her ear with his other hand. “You are so very beautiful, Anna lass.”

Uncertainty touched her eyes, but Lachann dipped down to kiss her lips.

He rolled to his side, pulling her with him. Unable to get his fill of looking at her, of touching her, he gently caressed her cheek, then her chin. He slipped his arm ’round her waist and drew her flush against his body, relishing the press of her bare skin on his.

They lay together quietly, with only the sound of a sudden rain squall breaking the silence.

L
achann held Anna in his arms long into the night, cocooned in the snug bedchamber while the rain drenched the world ’round them. ’Twas as though not another soul existed on their island.

If only life could have been that simple.

Before dawn, Lachann left Anna sleeping and went to search for Macauley. No one had been able to find him last night after returning to the castle, but the man had to sleep, didn’t he?

Without standing on ceremony, Lachann pushed open Macauley’s bedroom door, prepared to confront him. But the room was empty. And it appeared not to have been slept in. The bed was undisturbed and the fireplace was cold.

Lachann scratched the back of his head, wondering what rock Macauley had climbed under. The bastard was devious, and Lachann should have assumed he’d stay clear of anyone who might accuse him of the fire.
Gesu
. What other nefarious plans were afoot?

Lachann was afraid he already knew.

With Macauley absent and unavailable for questioning, Lachann looked in on Laird MacDuffie. He needed to make it clear to the laird that he would not wed the man’s daughter.

He stepped quietly into MacDuffie’s bedchamber and found the old man sleeping soundly. His skin was pale, making the gash on his head and Anna’s stitches stand out grotesquely.

Again, Lachann had to wonder if something more ailed the laird than his continuous drunkenness. He’d known many a man who’d died of the jaundice and bloating that went along with too much whiskey, but Lachann detected no yellowness of MacDuffie’s eyes or skin. The old man was as white as a phantom, though, and clearly ailing.

What if he died before naming his heir?

Deciding ’twas pointless to remain in the laird’s bedroom, Lachann went down to the kitchen and found no one else up and about. No one but Anna’s cat.

“You’re looking for your mistress, are you?” he muttered.

The cat mewed.

“Aye. I can understand your affection for the lass.” Lachann’s entire body clenched with pleasure at the thought of her. He’d never known such a fiery woman as his Anna, nor one as passionate and generous. She’d worked hard yesterday alongside the other islanders trying to put out the fire. She needed to rest today, and Lachann would talk to her later—about Kilgorra, about Braemore, about Catrìona.

While the cat wrapped itself ’round Lachann’s legs, he found bread and a piece of cheese for his own breakfast, and he cut a sliver of cheese for the wee creature. Then he tightened his belt and was about to set out for the stable in the rain when Duncan came into the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” Lachann said. “Didn’t you stay late in the village?”

“Aye.” Duncan rubbed a hand over heavy whiskers. “We’re going to start on the new granary this morn. But with all this rain . . .”

“Aye. It might be better to wait,” Lachann said. “See what the carpenters say.”

Duncan nodded.

“Macauley was not in his room this morn,” Lachann said. “Everyone needs to keep an eye out for him.”

Duncan let out a low sound of disgust. “I don’t trust the bastard any further than—”

“Aye. He’s up to something, and I have a feeling the granary was just the beginning. If anyone sees him, I want him detained. By force, if necessary.”

Duncan raised his brows.

“In the meantime,” Lachann said, “I want the cannons up and into position today, ready for firing. The island is too vulnerable—especially with the men occupied with rebuilding the granary.”

“That’s a good point, Lachann,” Duncan said. “If a pirate ship came into the harbor . . .”

“Aye, the harbor,” Lachann said. “Our most vulnerable point. I’m going up to Roscraig Peak to make my decision on a location for one of the cannons.”

“Aye,” Duncan said as he headed for the stairs. “We’ll meet you there soon.”

“Oh, and Duncan?”

The man stopped and turned.

“I’ve decided not to marry Catrìona MacDuffie,” he said. “Find another way for MacDuffie to make me his heir.”

Chapter 28

A
nna awoke alone. In Lachann MacMillan’s bed.

Herregud!
She must have fallen asleep in his arms. She clambered out of bed and reached for the towel she’d used last night, and found that someone had picked up the clothes she’d left on the floor outside the bathing room.

It had to have been Lachann. He’d hung them over the back of a chair to be ready when she awoke and wanted to leave his room.

She lay back on the bed and covered her eyes with her arm. Ach, what could she have been thinking last night?

She had
not
thought. That was the problem. Just like yesterday, she’d allowed the attraction she’d felt to rule her actions . . .

Except what she felt for Lachann was nothing as simple as a mere attraction. What she felt was far more than was sensible or prudent. She would not have given him her maidenhead otherwise.

Feeling more than a little bit desperate, she got up again and dressed quickly. Dashing down the stairs, she flew past the main floor and down to the servants’ quarters. She pushed into her room without delay and closed the door tightly behind her as tears welled in her eyes.

Dear God, she had done it again. Allowed her heart to rule her actions.

But she could not allow it to happen again. A few days on her wee isle, and her good sense would return as sound as ever. She would let the healing waters of the loch restore her, and when she returned . . .

Well, she would deal with Catrìona’s marriage to Lachann then.

But a shudder of desire rippled through her, and she feared her body would not soon forget the sensation of Lachann’s touch—of his mouth on her, of his body joined to hers. . . .

Anna swallowed and closed her eyes tightly. She ached in odd places—places that would receive relief only from Lachann’s manly caress, which was absolutely the last thing she should have wanted.

And yet, if she was honest, she knew ’twould be all she could think of, even when she was away on Spirit Isle.

W
hen Lachann arrived in the village, men were already working to remove the charred remains of the granary. The rain had let up, but it was messy, muddy work.

Lachann went into the tavern, where Geordie Kincaid was already discussing the new building with a handful of carpenters. He took the man aside.

“Have them build it to your exact specifications,” Lachann told him, “with an eye toward increasing your production over the next few years.”

“But the cost—”

“I will cover the cost, Kincaid. This is an opportunity to modernize, and we must make the most of it.”

“Aye. I will, sir.”

“When the
Glencoe Lass
returns, I’ll send her for any supplies not available on Kilgorra,” Lachann said, for his ship should return with news from Skye within a day or two, at most. “And if improvements are needed at the distillery, include those, as well.”

Lachann had decided Macauley would never become laird here. Even if the dolt wed Catrìona.

He left the building wondering not for the first time what Macauley’s purpose was in keeping Laird MacDuffie drunk. If it was to make the old man ill and unable to make reasonable decisions, it seemed to be working. Sometimes the laird seemed not to know where he was, or in whose company.

Macauley’s machinations might have worked if Lachann had not arrived on the isle. The man was welcome to Catrìona, but not to Kilgorra or its people.

Lachann met the three MacPherson brothers when he rode up to the top of Roscraig Peak. As they looked down, they could see the devastated area ’round the granary site, and the men working to clear the area. ’Twas bad, but it could have been so much worse. The distillery was not far from the granary, and there were other buildings nearby, as well. If the fire had been allowed to spread, they might never have managed to stop it.

“Good morn to you, Lachann,” Boyd said. “Ach, ’tis a dismal sight, is it not?”

Lachann nodded.

“Will we continue our training until the lumber and the rest of the supplies are ready for the rebuilding?” Boyd asked.

“That is a very good idea,” Lachann said. The better to thwart Macauley’s plan. He looked out at the sea beyond Anna’s isle. “No need to waste these few days. As soon as the men are gathered, I’ll talk to them about what we’re going to do.”

Tavish tipped his head toward the devastation. “Granny says it could have been Birk Ramsay who started the fire.”

“Aye? Birk Ramsay? What reason would he have for destroying the granary?”

“None at all. Nor did he have reason to destroy his own birlinn last year. But his temper has not been the same since he cracked his head. And now that he drinks . . . well, a drunk is not always in full possession of his reason.”

Lachann had not thought any of the islanders would create such havoc. But someone like Ramsay would not need a reason.

“Do you know where he is?”

All three shook their heads. “You know he lies about in one of the caves on the western shore.”

“Aye, I’ve heard.” ’Twas where he’d believed Anna had been going the previous day, and the thought of her facing the man alone had been more than a tad alarming.

He’d given her only the most rudimentary of lessons in self-defense, and Lachann seriously doubted she was any kind of match for an angry Birk Ramsay. He needed to talk to her about avoiding the man altogether.
Gesu,
the last thing he wanted was for her to be hurt.

“What do you think?” Lachann asked. “Is Birk responsible?”

Rob shook his head. “I just don’t see it. He’s more likely to set fire to his own cottage than go about ruining his chances for another drop of the
uisge beatha
.”

Which was equally unnerving to Lachann. He disliked the thought of further harm coming to Anna’s friend.

“He’ll go home once he’s sober and can face Kyla,” Tavish said.

“Is he violent when he’s sober?” Lachann asked.

“Not usually,” Boyd said. “But his sober days seem to come less often now.”

A
nna threw on a cloak, picked up her basket, and went into the kitchen, where Flora and the other maids were at work.

“Where are ye off to in such a rush, lass?” Flora asked.

“To my isle,” she said.

Flora took her by the arms and faced her. “Ach, ye look flushed. Are ye all right, Anna?”

“Aye. I just need to get over to the—”

“Ye will’na be crossin’ the straits today,” Flora said. “The seas are rough and will likely stay that way through the day and all night, too.”

Anna swallowed her chagrin.

“What’s got into ye, lass? Ye’re all a’flutter this morn!”

“The laird suffered a mishap in the solar last night,” Anna replied. “I’m just worried—”

“Anna,” Graeme interrupted as he came into the kitchen, “yer wanted by Lady Catrìona.”

“Well,
that one
is up early,” Flora said. She turned to Anna. “Was the old man hurt?”

The thought of seeing Catrìona right now made Anna’s stomach roil. “Aye. He split open his head. No doubt Catrìona got up to see about him.” She turned to Graeme. “How is he?”

“I know naught,” he replied, putting up his hands to ward off her questions. “Alex is with him. Catrìona merely stuck out her head from the laird’s room and told me to fetch you.”

Anna calmed herself and put her things back into her bedroom, then climbed the steps to the great hall and made her way to the main staircase. All was quiet above, and she felt more than a wee bit of trepidation in returning to the room where she had succumbed to Lachann’s seduction.

Herregud,
she could hardly believe she’d actually stood naked in the laird’s chamber, with Lachann MacMillan’s hands upon her.

Or that she would do it again, given the chance. She feared she could go away to Spirit Isle for a month and come back to Kilgorra still wanting him.

She paused on the stairs and pressed a hand against her chest. Mayhap she should just have Graeme tell Catrìona that he could not find her. Or that she’d gone for Janet Carnegie. Aye, that would be best—

“Anna!”

Too late. Catrìona saw her. “I’m coming.”

Anna reached the top of the stairs and followed Catrìona into her stepfather’s bedchamber.

“What is it?” Anna asked. “Is he—”

“Go and look at him.”

Anna stepped up to MacDuffie’s bedside. His forehead near the gash was red and swollen, but the stitches she’d made had held. The man cracked open his eyes and frowned at her. “Anna?” His voice was but a thin rasp. “Where . . . where is Fenella?”

“He knows
you
!” Catrìona gasped.

Anna glanced at Catrìona, who stood with her arms crossed against her chest, her face turning a deep shade of red. Anna shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he know me?”

Catrìona made an incoherent sound but did not answer the question.

“Who is Fenella?”

“His sister. And he called me Lilas.” Anna knew that was Catrìona’s mother’s name. So
that
was what upset her. The laird had recognized Anna but not his own daughter.

Anna closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed.
Ach, Laird, what have you done to me?
“ ’Twas obviously just a moment’s confusion,” Anna said. “Did he recognize Graeme? Or Alex?”

Catrìona shook her head. “No.”

“Well, ’twas a nasty blow to his head. No wonder he’s confused. Shall I send someone to fetch Janet Carnegie?”

Catrìona dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “To think only a month ago he was as hearty as any other man his age.”

“Where were you last night?” Anna asked. “We could have used your help.”

Catrìona suddenly abandoned her show of grief. “ ’Tis not your place to question me,” she snapped.

Anna sighed. Naught had changed. Her life was just as it had always been.

If not worse.

“I’ll send Graeme down to Janet’s cottage,” she said. “Mayhap she’ll know what more we should do.”

“Aye. And then you must clean up that mess in the solar. I don’t know why you left it overnight.”

Anna tried not to seethe. She did not want to feel any sympathy for Catrìona, who’d harassed and beleaguered her for most of her life. But she knew Catrìona felt as lonely as she, no matter how many men she’d seduced. Her stepsister had doted excessively upon her father, but the old man had never taken much notice of his only child.

Flora always said that if Laird MacDuffie paid Catrìona the least bit of attention, she would not go looking for it from any man who was too daft to know better than to dally with the laird’s daughter.

Anna took a half-empty bottle of whiskey from the laird’s table before leaving the room. She encountered Graeme in the great hall, carrying in a load of peat for the fires.

“How is the laird?”

“Ill. Confused,” Anna replied casually, as though her life had not been irrevocably changed. As though she had not given her heart and soul to a man she could have only in secret, and only when his duty to his wife did not prevent it. “He does not look good, Graeme. Will you run down to Janet Carnegie’s cottage and bring her back? I don’t know what to do for him, and Catrìona is useless.”

“Aye. After I finish stackin’ all this.”

Anna went down to the kitchen to collect the supplies she needed to clean the solar.

“So, the laird fell?” Flora asked.

Anna picked up Effie and held the cat under her chin, listening to her purr. “Aye. In the solar, smashing one of his precious whiskey bottles on the floor.”

“Ach, no! The thirty-year blend?”

Anna put Effie on the floor and picked up the half-full bottle she’d removed from the laird’s chamber, emptying it in the thick grass outside the kitchen. Thirty-year or three-year—she had no use for any of it.

“Ach, lass! What’re ye doin’?” Flora cried when she saw the amber liquid spilling out of the bottle.

“The laird won’t remember whether he drank it or not. Not in his present condition.”

Flora put one hand to her breast. “Ye could have saved it fer us. A wee dram would’na be amiss tonight, when ’tis time to lay a body down.”

“I am sorry, Flora. I didn’t think.” Anna had begun to hate the stuff. Birk was not the only drunkard in the village, and her stepfather—who had always imbibed too much, in her estimation—was incoherent more often than not these days. “I’ve sent Graeme for the healer.”

“Aye? The laird’s that bad off, then?”

“I sewed the gash in his forehead,” Anna replied, refusing to think what else she’d done. “Now he’s calling Catrìona by her mother’s name.”

“That can’na be good.”

“But he knew me.”

Flora placed a hand upon her breast and cast a wry look at Anna. “I’m sure that pleased Catrìona.”

Anna could do naught but shake her head helplessly. “I cannot imagine why he knew my name and not hers.”

“Whoever knows when such . . .” The cook frowned as she tapped one finger against her mouth.

“What is it?” Anna asked.

“ ’Tis just so strange. The laird was well enough afore that arse Macauley came to our isle. I wonder . . .”

“I don’t understand.”