The Highlander's Lady (16 page)

Myra bit her lip and Daniel had to resist the urge to run his thumb over her plump, inviting mouth. Instead, he took her gloved hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed them.

“
I’ve shared
with ye something I’ve never told another soul. I trust ye with my secret—
my father’s dislike of me.
Will ye s
hare a part of yourself with me
?
”

Myra nodded, squeezed his hands in return.

“When I was little, I have this vision of my mother. She was walking on the moors, away from the castle. Her gown was white, flowing wildly with the wind, her hair, dark like mine whipped all around her.
I remember thinking that the sky looked purple and pretty like a thistle, but then there were flashes of lightning. No rain yet. But a wicked storm brewing.
” Myra gazed off into the distance as if recalling that vision.

Daniel could picture it too
, sensed the eeriness of it
.
Sensed how it would have permanently imprinted in the mind of a young child.

“’Twas dawn and I’d woken early. My nursemaid was asleep on a pallet before the hearth and I was looking out the window to see if I could spot a deer on the grounds below. They always liked to come close to the castle in the early morn and I wanted to catch one as a pet.
” She paused a moment, licking her lips. “There were no deer, just my mother.”

She flicked her gaze toward his and smile
d
shyly. “Might I have a sip of whiskey?”

Daniel nodded and handed her the
skin
. He didn’t want to say anything. Didn’t want to break the spell of her willingness to share part of her past. Wanted to know where this story went. He’d heard her mother passed away when she was young, at least that was what Byron had told him, but Daniel had never learned how. He’d been too young when her death occurred to recall it and he’d never been close to their father although his own had.

Myra took a long gulp of whisky, her eyes closing as she swallowed. She swiped away a drop that dribbled down her chin with the too big gloves, wiping the excess on her gown.

“I watched her walk until I could see her no longer. She just disappeared. When my nursemaid woke, I told her what I’d seen and she told me it was probably a dream. But when I went down to break my fast as I was allowed to do each morning in the great hall, my mother wasn’t there. Father was frantic and shouting orders to his men. He was afraid she’d been taken again.”

“Again?” Daniel couldn’t help asking, although he kept his voice quiet.

“Aye.” Myra nodded, fiddled with the wineskin but did not take a sip. “She was kidnapped by an enemy of our clan. I never learned what happened exactly, but the horrors of it were hinted at to me. She was abused. Men were to be seen as evil. My father no longer let me be seen, he was so afraid I’d be taken. We no longer hunted. I wasn’t allowed to leave the
castle walls again and the only way I could participate when any guests visited was through the walls.”

“Through the walls?”

Myra nodded, and a moment
of
panic flashed in her eyes.

“Ye can trust me, lass.”

“The hidden corridors.”

“Ye mean ye watched the festivities hidden away and ye didna participate?”

She nodded, her eyes filled with sadness. “Aye. I found comfort in it. There is a hidden corridor behind nearly every wall almost like the castle is within a castle.
My father taught me every hidden doorway and corridor within Foulis.”

“Fascinating.”
And it was, but he couldn’t help but wonder at the quality of life for someone always hidden, always scared. Although it happened with an attack, he was glad she was no longer buried within a stone tomb.

She smiled. “Aye, ’tis.”

She took his hand in hers again and he wondered if it was intentional or if she did it without thinking. He couldn’t tell.

“I never saw her again, Daniel. She left us.”

“Did they ever find her?”

“Aye. Weeks later.” Myra squeezed her eyes shut and Daniel did react this time. He pulled her close, resting her head on his shoulder as he stroked her back.

“What happened?”

“She drowned herself.
” Myra’s voice had turned monotone.

“I’m sorry, lass.”

She nodded. “’Twas tragic. But even though ’tis a sin to take one’s own life, I think she was happier doing it. She was in hell. Mother was never
the
same when she came back. I dinna know what unimaginable things they did to her, but it changed her. Her eyes were shadowed. She didna sing or play with me anymore. She was quiet. Haunted looking. Nothing
father did could bring her back. Nothing anyone did worked.”

“How did your father deal with the loss?”
Daniel’s heart went out to her.

“He was angry. Brooded for days. Went to war with those who’d harmed her. But nothing could bring her back and I think he realized that. Eventually he stopped. Didna talk about her anymore. Only worked with Byron to be the best laird he could be. Made sure I was safely hidden. Made sure I was punished when I did wrong. Father Holden and I became quite close as I was often in confession.”

Daniel chuckled lightly. “With your nature I can hardly believe it.”

“Why do I think ye are lying now?”
she said with a little giggle.

Daniel pulled her closer, liking the feel of her
cuddled
against him. The warmth of her body, the softness of her.
He was glad too that she was more light-hearted after having revealed such a heavy truth of her past.

With two fingers on her chin he turned her face up toward his. “I would never lie to ye, Myra.”

Then he lowered his lips.

Chapter Fourteen

A
million years seemed to pass before Daniel’s lips reached hers. Myra’s eyes fluttered shut as his breath caressed her face and his warm mouth brushed hers. She sighed into his kiss, unable to resist his touch.
There was something so intoxicating about Daniel’s kisses
—more so than whisky. T
he intensity he put behind each intimacy made her feel boneless in his arms.

As much as she wanted to push him away, to force herself to become indifferent to him, she simply could not.
Myra turned more fully against him, her breasts pressing slightly to his chest sending tendrils of desire floating through her entire being. She snaked her arms around his middle, feeling the solidness of his p
hysique beneath her fingertips.

Each time they kissed it was different
—always wonderful—a
nd this time it was once again
completely unique
. This kiss wasn’t timid
as their first had been. Nor was it
carnal
as their kiss in the tavern was
. It wasn’t filled with panic
and the rush of nearly losing each other
. This kiss was sweet. Slow.
Heady.

Myra trembled in his arms. Wished they were in a different place so she could more freely explore his body. As it was
,
she kept her hands strictly in place on his back even though she itched to stroke up and down his spine, over his chest. Her nipples were taut peaks and rubbed against his chest sending an ache to pulse in a line from her breasts to her center.

Daniel touched her lightly on her waist, not as shy as she. He caressed her ribs, her spine. Every little touch tickled and sent frissons of need to throb through her.

And
it was
over too quickly. This time Myra pulled away. Acutely aware of where they were and who could watch and
how continually kissing Daniel would change both of them irrevocably.

She was already in too deep. Already wanting more than she should.
There was too much between them—beyond a simple handfast.
More than she’d ever considered. At one time years ago she’d had a brief fantasy of it. Believed there could be something such as true love. Why did he have to make her feel that way again?
Daniel showed
her
that he could be trusted, that he was invested in her and her clan. He was a changed man and she believed she could count on him.

Myra wanted desperately to pull him in just as she frantically tried to push him away.

“Myra,” he whispered, his voice a hush. He brushed her cheek with his fingers
,
forcing her to look deep into his eyes.

Myra bit her lip, her mind a jumble of confused thoughts.

He’d witnessed her at her worst and still accepted her. He’d poured his heart out to her unknowing how she would react. And she could have stomped on him, remained indifferent or do
ne
exactly as she had. Let him in. She’d never talked with anyone about her mother before, sensing that it was a topic best left alone with her father. When she’d tried with Byron he’d always changed the subject or yelled at her
,
and even her nursemaid was unwilling to offer her a word. The woman only burst into tears and called her a poor, poor lass, while patting her on the head.

Even Father Holden, for as close as they’d become over the years
,
was not will
ing
to speak with her about it. Orders she supposed from her father. When her mother left them all, committing the gravest of sins, she’d become a ghost to them all, just a figment of Foulis’ imagination.

A near figment of her own. She could barely remember what her mother looked like. All Myra remembered clearly was her long hair. The softness of it. The scent of rosemary and lavender that clung to her. And a song. She remembered the lyrics clearly, could hear them in her mind.

The wee birdies sing,
a
nd the wild flowers spring
…

And in sunshine the waters sleeping
..
.

But the broken heart it
knows
,
nay
second spring again
…

Though the wo
eful may cease fr
om
their greeting
…

“Daniel, I—“ Myra placed a hand on his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart though his shirt. “Have ye ever felt like ye’ve fallen down a well and it will take an eternity for ye to climb out?”

He nodded slowly. “I feel like I’ve been climbing for a long time.”

“Me too.
W
hen I look toward the light it just gets farther away.”

He placed a gentle hand on either side of her face. “We have each other now.
Though it may not be as ye wished
, but together we can forge a way to climb to the top.”

Myra pressed her lips together, trying to believe in what Daniel said.

“Meat is ready, my laird,” one of the men said who turned the spit.

The spell was broken, and Myra’s stomach grumbled loudly, her mouth watering from the succulent scents of roasted meat. Daniel stood and went toward the roast. The men who were not on duty all gathered around, cutting hunks of meat and blowing away th
e heat, creating puffs of steam around their faces.

Daniel cut off a hunk, blew on it and handed it to Myra. “Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Never. Highlanders are
not
gentle,” he said with a wink.

Myra took off her gloves and grasped the meat with her fingers, pulling it off his dirk. Juices slipped down her fingers, forging a warm, greasy path. She sank her teeth into the meat and tried not to moan from both the taste and texture. There was truly nothing as delicious as roasted game. Oh, how hungry she was. Myra tried to eat delicately, but there was
nothing for it. She shoved the hunk of meat into her mouth and took out her dirk, ready to cut off another hunk.

“This is amazing,” she said between bites.

Daniel chuckled. “’Tis good indeed. I’m glad ye’re eating. From the sounds of your rumbling belly ye’ve not had a good meal in a while.”

“I canna remember when.”

“Did ye not eat at Foulis?” Daniel asked, cutting off another hunk for himself.

Myra watched as his men cut off another portion then left the cavern, switching posts with the men who’d been on watch.

“Whenever I wasn
’t
fasting.”

“Fasting?”

“Aye. I…tended to do a lot of penance.”

Daniel winged a brow. “Why’s that?”

Myra shook her head and smiled. “I told ye I spent a lot of time with Father Holden—confessing.”

“Tell me of your latest indiscretion.”

Myra’s smile faltered. “Listening in on a meeting my brother had with another laird.”

“How did they catch ye?”

Myra shrugged, biting into her meat and taking her time chewing.

“Byron
had
a six sense when it came to me spying on him. But what could I do? I was mostly confined so as not to become a victim like my mother had. ’Tis boring to sew and study all day.”

“I take it ye spied a lot.”

“Aye.”

“How often do ye serve
penance?”

“More often than not.”

Daniel chuckled. “I like your spirit, Myra.”

Myra felt her cheeks heating at his compliment. “Thank ye. Ye’d be the only one.”

“Fitting since I’m the only one that matters.”

His words were flattering in one respect
—
that a husband should enjoy his wife for who she is, but they were also a bitter reminder that she’d lost everyone.

“I’m full.” Myra put her dirk back into the
small leather
loop at her hip. “And a little sleepy. I think I’ll take a nap afore we leave. ’Twill be soon, aye?”

Daniel studied her a moment before answering. “
Aye, soon.
What did I say?”

“What?” His question caught her by surprise.

“Ye
’ve
shut down, Myra. We’ve not known each other over long, but in that time I’ve gotten to know ye a little.”

That unnerved her. Before today she’d still felt like she was safely hidden behind a façade. Now he knew exactly who she was and they’d shared intimate parts of themselves.

“
Your words… They were j
ust a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Daniel frowned. “I didna mean it like that.”

“I know ye didna, but it was said all the same. ’Tis the way of things. We say one thing and taken out of context it means something different.”

“
Are ye truly full? I wouldna want ye to starve yourself because of something stupid I said.”

Myra was
heartened
by his concern. She touched his elbow briefly, before realizing what she was doing. It was becoming so much easier to touch without thinking.
She had to stop…else she
would
not be prepared to leave him once she relayed her message to the Bruce.

“I am truly full. My thanks for your concern.”

Daniel nodded. “Mind if I continue to eat, or did ye need me to lean against?”

“I think I can manage on my own.”
She flashed him a grin.

Daniel smiled, so charming, she felt her insides melt and her sadness ebbed a little. “Good,
more for me.
I’m starving.”

Myra laughed a little then turned to sink back within the nest of warmth the plaid and her cloak created. She was truly exhausted and a bit of rest would be good before they had
to brave the weather once more.

Closing her eyes, Myra was struck with a fierce anxiety. It’d been over a week since Foulis was attacked by Ross. There was no telling if he’d already been to Eilean Donan and wreaked havoc there as well. On the road they’d not have found out. The tavern they’d stayed at was not likely to have heard the news yet should such a thing have happened. Myra’s heart beat harder and her fingers felt tingly. She tried to calm her breathing, telling herself that if that were the case
,
there was nothing she could have done about it.

Rose came first. Byron’s heir came first. She’d taken them both to safety and then set about her way. The weather couldn’t be controlled. ’Twas winter. Snow was inevitable, and even if they’d not been stuck in the snow, they’d only be a few hours further along.

Even still, knowing all this, she couldn’t calm down. There was so much riding on her relaying her message. The entire War for Independence. Scottish Freedom. So many lives. All of their future. If she failed in her mission, or she arrived too late, there would be nothing left for anyone born of Scottish
descent.

Myra shifted, no longer comfortable. Her mind raced so she couldn’t fall asleep. When they arrived at Eilean Donan—if the Ross had not yet been there—she would insist on an immediate meeting with the Bruce. She would not allow them to make her wait, even if she had to barge in on him while he was in the privy. ’Twas life or death. He would understand. He had to. She would force him to see.

The Bruce was a reasonable man
, or so she believed. I
f all of Scotland wanted him as their king, then he had to be good. If Wallace fought for him—Daniel fought for him—he must have made a good impression on them. Myra admitted to
herself that when it came to politics and safety, she trusted Daniel wholly. Her father and
Byron
had also fully supported the Bruce. Byron had even fought alongside him at Stirling.

Aye
, Robert the Bruce must be reasonable. And there was no reason he wouldn’t agree to see her. No reason that he would be willing to risk his neck. He would gladly hear her news and bless her a thousand times for saving his life.
H
e’d offer her escort and an army to Foulis so she could reclaim her castle. Then he would allow her to watch as Ross was executed—slowly.