The Enchantress (28 page)

What if William thought she would be better off with someone else? On the other hand, what if he thought she was too meddlesome to take as a spouse? Worse, what if he was still in love with Mildred?

She rose restlessly to her feet and forced a polite smile at her companion. “Thank you, Sir Wyntoun...for trusting me with all this.”

Wyntoun stood up as well and reached for Laura's hand, taking it in his own. “I hope I’ve not distressed you with what I have revealed.”

She shook her head and took a step back. “If you’ll forgive me, ‘tis late.”

Laura turned and headed across the Great Hall toward the stairwell. Her mind was a jumble. Her stomach twisted in a painful knot. The torment of what William Ross thought of her--of their future--was almost too much to bear.

She needed him. She wanted him. And she was willing to risk anything to have him want her in return. As a wife.

*****

Miriam was sound asleep again in the kitchen.

Arriving back at Blackfearn Castle late in the night and finding Gilbert’s dog stretched out contentedly by the open hearth in the Great Hall, William had a fairly good idea that the little girl would not be in her bedchamber. Going into the kitchen, he found the imp curled up in a tiny ball atop the sacks of oats.

William dropped down on his knees beside the child.

“I’ve been watching over her, master.”

The laird turned and gave an encouraging nod to Robbie, the young stable lad. Sitting with his back against a large black cooking pot, the boy’s eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep. “You’ve done well, lad.”

“Why does she come down here when she has a real bed to sleep in?”

William looked down on Miriam’s innocent face and wondered the same himself. He pulled the woolen rag aside and picked her up in his arms. She curled her fingers around his tartan and snuggled against his chest.

The laird had no idea how to explain to the boy, who had never in his life enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in a real bed, why someone would choose not to.

“Lassies! They’re such fragile creatures.” The lad’s scowl was disapproving. “I think she comes down here because she is afraid.”

William lowered his voice and glanced down at the boy. “I know for a fact that she fears not man nor beast. But I believe she comes down here because she’s afraid for the rest of you.”

Robbie scoffed. “What have we to fear?”

“Fairy wives. And brownies. Perhaps even the Bodach himself, who comes to steal the bairnies away. They say the eldritch creatures can be kept at bay if a wee one knows the magic word.” William came to his feet. “Must be the lass sees things that the rest of us cannot see.”

The boy’s eyes rounded as he sat straighter against the pot. “Do--do ye think she saw something here tonight?”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she did not. But if I were you, I shouldn’t worry too much. Just you continue to be nice to wee Miriam. She’s told me that she always says her prayers and
always
puts in a good word for her friends.”

Instead of taking the stairs to the east wing from the kitchen, William went out through the Great Hall. The poor lad, he thought. Somehow, he doubted Robbie would be getting much sleep this night, with images of goblins and fairies filling his head. But having anyone think poorly of the little one in his arms--especially for not wanting to be alone--was something he would not allow.

Passing by the hearth, he nudged Gilbert’s dog with his foot. Willie raised his head and, with a lazy yawn, got to his feet. Stretching and shaking himself, he lumbered after the laird, obediently following them up the winding stairwell to the east wing.

The dog settled down heavily by the glowing hearth in Miriam’s room as William placed the child in her bed and tucked the blankets around her. The Highlander was banking the hearth with enough peat to last the night when a soft voice called to him.

“I don’t think the fairies I see are friendly at all.”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at the two blue eyes peering at him from the bed. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you picked me up in the kitchen.”

He scowled in mock fierceness while rising to his feet. “You mean you were awake and still let me scare poor Robbie half to death with talk of the Bodach?”

She bobbed her little head up and down and smiled. “And I liked the fib you told him about me. About not being afraid of man or beast.” She looked dreamily at the ceiling. “Man or beast.”

“‘Twas no fib. I know you’re not.” She didn’t look convinced, so he hardened the scowl on his face and growled threateningly at Willie. Bending over, he pulled open the dog’s huge mouth and exposed the jagged line of sharp white teeth. He turned both of their faces toward Miriam. “Look at us. Man and beast. Are you terrified, lass?”

As he released the dog’s muzzle, the animal licked the laird’s face with a broad sweep of his tongue. William spat in disgust. Miriam giggled and hid her head beneath the covers.

“So you think this is funny?” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I will get you for this. You can’t escape.”

Miriam squealed with delight and burrowed farther beneath the blanket.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention. He looked over his shoulders the same time that Miriam pushed the covers down and peered out.

Laura poked her head in the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I heard a noise...I didn’t realize...”

William’s eyes swept over Laura's tousled hair and smiling face and then at the tattered shirt visible beneath the blanket she’d thrown over her shoulders. It was the same patched rag he’d put on her when they were hiding in the fisherman’s hut on Sinclair land, but the gaping holes had been stitched, the ragged edges neatly hemmed. He felt a bolt of desire slice right through him as she pulled the blanket tighter in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the revealing garment and her exposed legs.

“I’ll be going now. Sleep well,” she whispered softly, tearing her violet eyes away from William and sending Miriam a soft kiss.

Before he could say anything, she was gone, and the door had closed behind her.

“Could you keep her?”

William turned with surprise to the young girl. She was sitting cross-legged in the bed. All the traces of merriment had disappeared from her expression.

“Could you, please?”

“You cannot just--” He cleared his throat. The child’s pleading tone flustered him for some reason. “Miriam, lass, you cannot just keep people.”

“You are keeping me, are you not?”

“Of course I am.”

His quick answer brought a smile to the girl’s lips. “Then why not keep her as well?”

For the first time in his life, William Ross felt completely tongue-tied. He glanced at the closed door. The image of the woman dressed in his shirt was already etched in his mind, in his heart. Wanting to keep that woman was the greatest temptation in his life.

He turned back to Miriam. “I--I will think about it, lass.”

Her immediate reaction--throwing herself into his arms and kissing his cheek--added another sword thrust to William’s gut. So he did the only thing that he could do. The only thing that didn’t require him to say a word.

He held the little girl.

William Ross placed soft kisses against her hair and held her to his chest, cherishing the moment of simply holding his daughter in his arms.

The castle’s sounds, muffled and peaceful, wrapped about Laura like a comfortable blanket. Closing her eyes, she smiled, hearing in her mind Miriam’s squeals and William’s gruff laughter.

The sound of his laughter, she thought contentedly. This had been the first time she’d ever seen him appear so truly happy.

Perched on her small cot, Laura hugged her legs to her chest and rubbed her cheek over the soft wool of his old worn shirt. His man-scent lingered in the cloth.

They had been so beautiful together. So perfect was the picture of the two of them together. And how foolish she must have sounded to him before, lecturing him on treating his niece better.

She should have known. Having witnessed his compassion, she should have known that he would open his great heart and let the child in.

Awareness stabbing at her, Laura’s head jerked up at hearing Miriam’s door open and close. Frozen on her bed, she stared at her own closed door, her heart drumming loudly in response to all her unruly emotions within.

But then there was silence. A deafening, disappointing silence that told her he’d continued on his way.

She dragged herself up from her cot and walked to the window, breathing deeply the streams of cold air filtering in through the closed shutter. Too restless to stand still, she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the wool shirt against her skin, and started pacing the chamber.

This wanton desire that tugged at her insides! This burning need to see him, to be held by him, was driving her mad.

Laura went to the oak door and leaned her forehead against the cool wood. If she had the power of magic, she would conjure him right now, will him to her. She smiled sadly. She was a planner, an organizer, a worker, but she was no enchantress.

She offered up a prayer and sighed. Behind her, the fire crackled, sending sparks up the chimney, and she turned to look at it. As she did, Laura thought she heard a sound in the passageway. Without hesitating, she turned and pulled the door open.

A prayer answered. Her body turned in an instant to liquid fire. William Ross stood before her, leaning casually against the wall by her door.

She searched for her voice, but her will to speak seemed to have disappeared with all pretense of modesty.

His eyes traveled down her body, burning her as they dwelled on her bare legs, on the patched holes in the shirt. Rising, his blue eyes lingered on her breasts, on her shoulders, before coming to rest on her mouth. He looked up into her eyes. She had been caressed, kissed, and scorched with one long look.

“Has Wyntoun asked for your hand in marriage?”

All she could do was shake her head and step slowly back into her room. He followed her.

He closed the door behind him and reached for her wrist. She stared at his large hand closing around her slender limb. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat at the hunger she saw in those eyes. The need that seemed to match her own in some savage, masculine way.

She took the step that separated them and raised her free hand around his neck. With a passion that cried to be fed, she lifted her lips to his.

A sound of hunger emitted from William’s throat as he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue surging inside. He turned her in his arms until she was pinned against the door, and his body a wall. Her only escape was through him. Her only redemption.

“Stay with me. Please,” she heard herself whisper as his mouth moved from her mouth and traveled to her ear, feasting on the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted him with a desire she had never known. Needed him as she had never felt need.

His fingers ran along the line of her jaw. She turned a little in his arms, and his bare knee pressed against the inside of her thighs. She could feel the sinewy strength in his leg as it pressed against the very center of her.

“Stop me, Laura. Tell me to stop,” he growled, his voice ragged.

He turned her toward the door, and she placed both palms flat on the smooth wood. His hands moved over her body, cupping her breasts, pulling her buttocks so intimately against his engorged manhood.

“I cannot tell you,” she murmured. She turned back to him, her hands and her lips all over him as a lightning bolt coursed through her. She needed to feel, to touch, to taste the sinewy muscles of his back, his chest. She could not get enough. “Please, William, do not stop.”

She knew exactly when he lost the battle. If his groan was in frustration or resignation she didn’t know. One moment, however, there was a barrier. His woolen shirt, depriving her heated skin from the caress of his fingers. The next instant he’d pulled the shirt over her head, and there was nothing to hide her body from his gaze, his touch.

He went down on one knee as his tongue traced an scorching trail from her chin to the valley between her aching breasts. She gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling, tugging, causing her to shudder and groan with pleasure and torment at the same time.

She curled over him, kissing his hair. His name was a continuous whisper on her lips.

“I want you, Laura. I want you so badly it hurts,” he whispered roughly.

“Then take me.” She gazed down into his face. “I am yours to take.”

William pulled her tightly to him, laying his head against her breasts as his hands caressed her back, the soft curves of her backside, the length of her weakening legs. His fingers explored the contours of the backs of her knees, of her thighs.

Laura gasped in surprise as William’s hand slid to the juncture of her legs. Her body arched against his, one knee rising against his side as his fingers gently stoked the fire raging within her. Laura's fingertips raked across his wide shoulders. She clutched his hair as a moan escaped her. Or was it from him?

William’s mouth moved over one breast, his tongue circling and then flicking at the erect nipple. Her hands held tightly to his hair and his back while she unconsciously pulsed her hips against him. His fingers continued to stroke the moist folds of her womanhood while he suckled her breast.

“William!” she cried out. His fingers were sending waves of molten liquid upward through her in rivers of fire.

His breath was heated against her dampening skin as he whispered the words, “let it go. Let it go, Laura.”

At the sound of his voice, she felt her soul soar.

She rolled her head back as an exquisite pressure built. Her breaths were getting shorter and shorter, and suddenly Laura felt her body shuddering uncontrollably, and a sky opened above her. Flashing light and colors unimaginable burst around her. Incapable of thought, she clasped his head to her breasts as the colors erupted in her and a shower of sparks touched every nerve in her body.