The Intended (35 page)

Jaime paused and stared at the man. She’d
never heard him say so much, so eloquently. She swallowed the lump
that was rising in her throat.

“Nor with me, either,” she said gently,
placing a hand on the physician’s arm. She had to say her peace,
though she feared that—once she started—she might find it extremely
difficult to keep her emotions in check. “I’ve grown fond of the
folk here at Kenninghall. But I have to go back to where I belong,
Master Graves. I have to wed the one I love. Fate has given us a
second chance by crossing our paths, here. I cannot turn my back on
Malcolm. I cannot simply forget the love I have for him.”

She looked down at her hands, fighting the
surging emotions that threatened to bring forth tears. She didn’t
want to weep here before this man, when she still had yet to ask
his help. The thought that he might consider her tears a cunning,
feminine way to convince him to help her was not a particularly
attractive one to Jaime. Especially after all he’d said of how
upsetting her departure would be to the people he cared for the
most.

Blinking the tears from her eyes, she looked
up into his face. “The reason why I came here, Master
Graves...”

“Aye, mistress. ‘Tis ready,” he said, holding
out the pouch to her.

She stared at the gray bag that the physician
held in his burly fist. “What is ready?” she asked quietly.

“They won’t question my judgment, mistress.
No one will be taking you away to court—not unless that is where
you
want to go.”

She reached out, and he placed the pouch in
her hand. “But I don’t...”

“You take this tonight before you go to bed,
and tomorrow morning at first light I’ll find an excuse to send a
servant for you. And when they cannot get you to wake up, then I
will come in myself to check on you.”

Jaime opened the tie of the pouch and peered
inside. “What is this that I will be taking?”

“A compound of gilded lettuce seed, white
poppy, and mandragora seed. Mix in a drink no more than this much.”
He showed her, demonstrating the measurement with the end of his
little finger. “‘Tis sure to give you a good night’s sleep. I often
give it to folk who cannot sleep.”

She looked up at the physician. “And what
will happen when I do finally wake up?”

“By then, Lord willing, someone will be
frightened enough to send for me.” He reached up and massaged his
sore shoulder. “After checking on you, I’ll tell them you could
have green sickness and a touch of spleen. They’ll take my word for
it when I tell them you must remain in bed.”

Jaime glanced hesitantly from the bag back up
to the physician’s face. “Do I have to pretend to be sick? I am
afraid they’ll see through such a ruse.”

“I don’t see how they could,” Graves answered
confidently. “Tomorrow, when I come in to you, I will put a cloth
treated with a strong medicine on your forehead. That should make
you sleep the day away. Trust me, the earl will not send you on the
road when he sees your pale face in that bed tomorrow.”

“What will be in that medicine?” Jaime asked
curiously.

“Oil of violets, a bit of opium, and milk. I
mix them and wrap them in a linen cloth, and lay the poultice
against your temple for a few moments at a time.”

“And that will make me sick?”

“Nay, mistress, only if you use too much of
it. The way we will do it, you will just sleep and sleep. And the
beauty of it is that we can do this for as long as you want to
remain an invalid. Just take the compound I’ve given you each
night, and I’ll have the poultice prepared beside your bed, so we
can place it on your temple as required.”

Jaime clutched the pouch tightly in her hand
and gathered it to her chest. “Will I be able to snap out of this
when the time comes to...” Her words trailed off, though she
continued to gaze at the Welshman steadily.

“Aye, mistress,” he answered. “Just stop
taking the compound, and don’t use the poultice for a day
before...before your time comes, and you’ll be fine.”

She placed the leather pouch in the pocket of
her skirt and then reached out and hugged the man. “Thank you,
Master Graves!”

“Just go before I change my mind, mistress,”
he replied gruffly as he patted her gently on the back. “Just go,
lass.”

Malcolm stretched his arm out of the window
and drew her into the chamber. She was as light as a bird.

“You must promise me not to make this climb
again, lass,” he said, pulling her into his arms without even
giving her a chance to remove her cloak. “You’ll be sure to break
your neck if you so much as miss a foothold.”

She tilted her head back and smiled into his
handsome face. “Well, there was little chance of me falling. I
think the angels would have held me up.”

His hand reached up and pushed back the hood
of her cloak. His fingers gently traced the softness of the skin at
her temple, her cheek, her parted lips. The cloak was cool and damp
from the night air, but her skin was warm, and her eyes sparkled
like stars in a moonless sky. “Were you so eager to come to
me?”

She nodded, placing a kiss on the tips of his
fingers.

“Oh, Jaime,” he groaned, unable to hold back.
He crushed her body to his chest as his lips devoured her sweet
mouth. “It has been hell, my sweet, waiting up here for you. I
cannot tell you how many times I thought to come down that wall
after you.”

Teasingly, she placed light kisses along the
line of his chin. “I am glad you didn’t come after me. The room I
share with Mary is a battlefield of unwanted people and trunks.
Lady Frances! Caddy! Every servant in Kenninghall! It took me quite
a while to push them all out. And then I went to see Master
Graves.”

Malcolm reached under her chin and undid the
tie of her cloak. “So he thought of a way to keep you from being
sent to Nonsuch Palace.”

She pulled back and looked him in the eye.
“You know?”

“I knew he would.”

She placed her hands against his chest. “So
you went to him, as well?”

“What do you mean, as well?”

“I went, too,” she answered. “But by then he
was already determined to help us through this.” She hugged him
tightly and then looked into his face again. “We thought the
same.”

“Aye, lass,” he said hoarsely, suddenly
entranced with her shining eyes and beautiful face. His hands moved
on their own accord and pushed the cloak from her shoulders and
onto the floor. He gathered her roughly to his heart.

Jaime wrapped her hands around his neck and
raised herself on her toes. “I love you, Malcolm. And I know
everything will be fine. We’ll be leaving this place within a week,
and we will sail to Scotland.”

“And we will be married at Skye, if that
suits you,” he whispered in her ear.

Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment and
silently vowed once again to keep her safe until the time came for
them to leave. The last message Graves had delivered said that the
ship was still due to arrive as originally planned during the
Midsummer’s Eve celebration. Malcolm knew that if he were not in a
longboat at the meeting point, they would sail away and return at
the next full moon. But he would be there...with Jaime. And for
now, the two of them would just have to sit back and bide their
time. It was simple enough to say, he thought. Actually doing so
was another matter entirely.

“Malcolm!” she whispered, snuggling closer
against his chest. “When I went to Master Graves at first, he said
something...he implied that there was more than one person who had
visited him today, before I arrived, asking the same thing of him
on my account.”

“You think there was someone other than
me?”

She nodded. “Aye, he was irritated to see me,
at first. He said something about me sending messengers!” She
pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Other than you, I just
cannot think of anyone who would want to side with us on this. I
believe everyone at Kenninghall wants to send me packing for
Nonsuch Palace.”

Malcolm ran a hand through her silky hair.
“When I was leaving the physician’s chamber—I did see Catherine go
in. Do you think she might do something on your behalf?”

Jaime rolled her eyes. “I would be afraid to
hazard a guess why my cousin might have a need to see the
physician, but I doubt very much she would do so for
my
benefit. I have had the honor of spending a few moments in her
company since she returned, and I can assure you that she has no
interest whatsoever in helping me. Catherine doesn’t like me much,
Malcolm.”

“Not a very good judge of character, I’d
say,” he growled teasingly, lowering his mouth to her neck.

“In fact, I think she hates me.”

The Highlander’s kisses were hot on her skin.
“Then we’ll just have to hate her back.”

Jaime, trying to focus on their words, found
herself increasingly caught up in the sheer pleasure she felt of
his lips against her skin. “I still wish I knew who it was that
went...to Master Graves...on my beh...”

Her own interest in the topic was quickly
slipping away like a flower dropped into the sliding current of a
mountain brook. She felt her breathing quicken as her body molded
to the hard lines of his frame. The tightness in her breasts, the
fluttering ache deep in her belly—these feelings were all so
wondrous, so far beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Suddenly,
all that mattered was having his hands on her—on her face, in her
hair, on her skin. She thought now, longingly, of the wonder of
feeling his fingers searching out the secret folds of her
womanhood. The tightness of her dress was suffocating her as she
recalled the feel of his mouth suckling her breasts.

His voice barely broke her reverie as his
hands casually skimmed the side of her breasts. “If it wasn’t
Catherine, lass, then who could it be?”

She couldn’t find her words. All she wanted
him to do was to cup her swollen breasts with his hands.

He did. Her breath stopped as he ran his hand
along the soft velvet of her bodice to the curve of her breast.
“What of Mary? Might she be one to do something like that on your
behalf?”

She shook her head. Her voice was hoarse to
her own ear. “She has learned to dislike me, as well.” Jaime wasn’t
quite sure how she’d managed to get those words out. Her tongue was
dry and her body on fire.

Jaime closed her eyes as he gently pulled her
against him. His hands traced the curves of her buttocks, and as
her middle slid against his protruding manhood, a moan escaped her
lips. She knew that he was feeling it, too, for he drew a sharp
breath and tipped her head back with a kiss that was wild,
all-consuming. And when he pulled back, he was breathless. She
gazed up into eyes clouded with passion, and saw he was struggling
to control something within him...something raw.

“Jaime,” he said, his voice ragged. “Who
else...who do you...”

“I...I don’t give a damn who hates me!” she
managed to get out. “Malcolm...I want...I want you to take me!”

A look of relief lit his features, as if a
great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he laid his
forehead against her hair. Seeing his response, her shyness
dissipated into thin air, and Jaime tugged open the front of his
shirt.

“Are you sure, lass?” he rasped as her lips
kissed and tasted the skin of his chest. “Perhaps if we were to
wait, you’d feel more...”

“Show me things, Malcolm.” Hesitantly, she
slid one of her hands lower over the rough scars of his chest, over
the hard lines of his stomach.

“But would it not be easier for you, Jaime,
to be in our own...” He could not finish. Her hand was stroking his
hard member through his close hose.

“Teach me how to make love to you, Malcolm,”
she whispered between soft kisses as her lips moved over the sinews
of his chest.

“I? Teach you? Lass, you steal away my
control. My sense of reason.” As she gazed into his face, Jaime saw
the light in his eyes change, and Malcolm's will joined hers. “Aye,
my love, my Jaime. Our time is now.”

She had yearned. She had wished. She was
his.

How he swept her up and carried her to the
curtained bed, neither would ever recall. But there on the high
mattress, by the light of a single candle, the clothing that
encumbered them was torn away with a vengeance and cast to the
floor. But as skin touched skin, Jaime felt Malcolm set his muscles
and slow the passion that surely raged within him.

There would be no rushing him. And as she
looked into his face, she knew that he was determined to honor her
request.

“This night I mean to give you pleasure. I
mean to show you love as it should have been the first time.”

The first time they’d made love, she’d been
far too nervous, too confused, to even consider what she should do.
But it was all different now. Lying there naked beneath the
Highlander, Jaime gave herself up totally to the feelings he was
stirring within her as his mouth and lips paid homage to every inch
of her body. As her body heated, as he suckled first one breast and
then the other, she had a vague sense that he might drive her to
sheer madness. She reached for him, trying to take him into her
hands. Her mouth was desperate to taste him—to do to him what his
torturing mouth was doing to her. This was nothing like what they
had shared before, so she followed his lead, taking pleasure as he
directed.

Malcolm raised his lips to hers, his fingers
combing through the black silken waves of her hair, while his
tongue sought to discover every soft recess of her mouth. Jaime
writhed beneath him, her hands restless, insistent, succeeding
finally in wrapping her fingers around his throbbing member. His
breath caught in his chest as she lifted her hips to guide him
in.

He tore his mouth away. “Nay, my love. Not
yet!”