The Magnificent Rogue (34 page)

“I’m sure that’s what some people said of her mother’s winsome ways.”

“Kate’s not like her mother.”

“No, she burns much brighter.”

A faint smile tugged at Robert’s lips as he remembered how Kate had burned down Sebastian’s cottage. “More than you know.” He looked down into the depths of his wine. “She’s hungry. All of her life she’s been starved, and now she wants to taste everything around her. How can you blame her?”

“I can blame her.” Jock paused. “If she gobbles up Craighdhu.”

“I won’t let her do that.”

“Or you.”

Robert was silent. It was not Kate’s fault, but he felt as if he were being devoured by his emotional obsession.

“I notice you’re not answering,” Jock said. “Could it be because it’s—”

“Robert!” It was Gavin, and he was pounding on the door. “Jock! Open the door. I have two bottles of the best ale in all of Scotland.”

The wail of the bagpipes sang wild and sweet, triumphant yet melancholy, as it soared over the courtyard.

Kate stood on the stone steps staring in amazement while Tim MacDougal slowly circled the courtyard wringing such melodies as Kate had never imagined possible from the dreaded instrument. The
last rays of the setting sun bathed the scene in shadow and light, rose and darkness.

She swallowed to ease the tightness from her throat and watched Jean take her place beneath the canopy of MacDarren’s plaid carried by four kilted clansmen. She looked more like a fairy-tale princess than ever in her gown of ivory-colored brocade. Her long silver-blonde hair flowed free to her waist as was the custom, her only hair ornament a wreath of spring flowers. Thirty clansmen in traditional kilts and carrying burning torches formed a guard on either side of the canopy.

“Kate, come on,” Jean called impatiently, an eager smile illuminating her delicate features. “Would you have me late for my wedding?”

“No, of course not.” Kate hurried down to take her place behind the canopy as the procession began to file from the courtyard over the drawbridge. Ahead of her the streets were lined with townspeople, and in the distance the bell of the church began to sound, blending with the wild, splendid fanfare of the pipes.

She could see the mist-shrouded mountains in the distance, their reflection mirrored in scarlet in the sea.

Beauty. Craighdhu. Home.

It was all too much. She was overflowing with exultation, never having known a moment like this. She was no longer even concerned that Robert might not be at the church. He had to be there. God was not always fair, but He had created both Eden and Craighdhu and would not let a time of this perfection be marred.

As they approached the church, Gavin hurried down the church steps, his face alight with a radiance equal to Jean’s. In their way they were as beautiful as Craighdhu.

Her
Craighdhu.

She saw Robert on the top step of the church, dressed in leather vest and MacDarren kilt, his black hair shining in the dwindling sunlight.

He was hers too, she thought fiercely. There was no one in this world who could love him as much or give him more. What had she been thinking to meekly give in when they told her she could not have the two things she most wanted in the world?

She would not surrender either of them.

“My God,” Robert murmured.

Kate was dressed in a crimson velvet gown with elegant wide skirts and long, full sleeves that were fashionably cut to reveal the gold chemise beneath it. A pleated gold-embroidered half-ruff framed her face but left her throat and upper breasts bare. The triangular crimson cap on her head was trimmed in glittering gold and vaguely reminded Robert of a coronet. The rosy light played on her, caressing the silky textures of her loose brown-gold hair, the smoothness of her breasts. Her color was high, her step proud and bold. Robert had never seen her look more beautiful … or more compelling.

“Christ, she looks …” Robert trailed off.

“Like a call to arms,” Jock said dryly, his gaze on Kate. “And as reckless as her mother was reputed to be. I suspected as much.”

She was staring challengingly at Robert. He was hardening, the blood rushing to that part of him that always responded to her nearness. If that was all in him that responded, he would be much safer.

Gavin and Jean entered the church where the dominie waited.

Kate started up the steps, her gaze holding Robert’s.

She was as regal as a queen, as alluring as Circe, as defiant as a warrior going into battle. Yet he could see in her the hint of childlike uncertainty that had always moved him.

She stopped before him and slowly held out her hand.

She was asking for more than an escort into the church.

“Robert,” Jock murmured warningly.

He needed no cautioning. He had been aware this moment of decision would come since she had told him she was not with child. He knew the consequences better than Jock and Kate. If he let her come near again, it would be with full knowledge of the pitfalls, the only question being whether the obsession that possessed him was worth the risk of losing all he held dear.

He looked down at the hand she was extending to him, so small yet strong and capable.

It was trembling.

He stepped forward and closed his hand possessively over Kate’s. “My lady.”

He led her into the church.

Torches flared brightly over the green, glittering on the four swords laid on the grass, and the dancers moving with stylish grace to the strains of the bagpipes.

Kate watched them in fascination as she stood beside Deirdre, handing out cups of ale at the long trestle table. Dancing and music and laughter: All the things that Sebastian had said would never be hers were here on this green tonight.

“Why do you not try it yourself?” Deirdre asked. “I can see you’re yearning to. They’ll be starting a reel as soon as the sword dance is through.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“You’ll learn soon enough. It’s simple enough.”

Kate was tempted as she glanced at the long tables laden with all manner of festive food. Leg of mutton with gallandine sauce, boiled capon, salmon, shrimp, sausages, quince pie, tart of almonds, and huge slices of gingerbread dripping with almond butter were fast disappearing as the evening progressed, and Deirdre and the other servants could certainly preside over their distribution.

No, this feast was her responsibility, her first social duty as the countess of Craighdhu, and she wouldn’t shirk it to run and play. “I’ll stay. There will be other feasts.”

“Perhaps not such a fine one as this,” Deirdre said. “You did well.”

Kate flushed at the praise that always came sparingly from Deirdre. “I thank you for your help.”

“I would have given it sooner if you’d—”

“It’s time for us to go.” Gavin was suddenly beside her. “The lads are getting a bit rowdy. Will you go get Jeanie for me?” He indicated his bride, who was at the center of a group of women at the far side of the glen. “They might embarrass her with their rude remarks if I’m the one to take her away.”

She doubted if Jean would be as discomposed as Gavin thought, but it was sweet of him to be so sensitive to his bride’s feelings. She nodded as she set the bottle of ale she was holding on the table. “Of course. I’ll help her slip away and send her to you at the castle.”

He shook his head. “We must first go beneath the swords … I hope.” He hesitated and then asked, “I have another boon to ask. Will you ask Robert to do the honor of the sword? I … Tell him I’ll understand if he chooses otherwise.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “He was at the church. Why is this different?”

“Because his presence there only indicated the laird’s approval of the match. The walk beneath the swords is much more.”

“In what way?”

“Acceptance of Jeanie into the clan, a promise of protection for her should I not be around to give my own. That and many other things. Will you ask him?”

She did not want to ask Robert anything that would disturb the bond between them that had been forged when he had taken her hand and led her into the church. Though they had parted when they had
reached the green for the wedding feast, the excitement and anticipation lingered, charging every action, every moment of the evening. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Please, Kate. I need this.”

She would not be able to grant him many favors in the future. Gavin and Jeanie were going away tomorrow into exile, and Heaven knows what dangers they would face. She sighed. “I’ll ask him.”

She went first to Jeanie and whispered Gavin’s summons in her ear, then strolled slowly across the green toward the place where Robert, Jock, and several more men were playing ball. She stood on the sidelines with the spectators while the men dodged and grappled for the big ball. Robert, like the others, was naked to the waist, his chest and arms gleaming with sweat in the torchlight. As she watched, he fell to his knees, diving for the ball, his kilt flying up to reveal hard, muscular buttocks. His head lifted, and he was laughing, dark eyes glittering, black hair tousled. He was completely sensual, absolutely male.

Robert glanced up and saw her, his laughter fading as he read her expression. He stood up, tossed the ball to the young man next to him, and started toward her.

She knew the same mixture of triumph and joy she had felt when he had taken her hand and led her into the church. She did possess power over him. She could draw him to her side with only a look. She could move him, stir him, even if it was only to desire.

He smelled of salt, leather, and ale, and when he drew closer, the warmth of his body was like a blast of heat from a campfire. Her breath was coming quicker, and her palms tingled with the urge to touch the springy triangle of dark hair on his chest.

“Yes?” he asked quietly.

“Gavin … They’re ready to go.” She met his gaze. “He sent me to ask you to do the honor of the swords.”

He stiffened, and his expression became shuttered. “Oh did he, indeed?’

“It’s not for himself. He wants Jean protected. He wants her to have a home if something happens to him.”

“Sanctuary,” he said grimly.

“They’re leaving tomorrow for Ireland. He has no intention of endangering Craighdhu. It’s not asking much to give him peace of mind.”

“It’s asking a great deal. They’re wed before God, and that tie means forever. If Jean is taken into the clan, she’s one of mine.”

“Then you won’t do it?”

He met her pleading gaze, and then a reckless smile lit his face. “Oh, what the hell. It would probably come to the same thing anyway. I doubt I could refuse her if she came to me in need.” He turned and called to Jock across the green. “The swords!”

An uproar greeted the words. The ball game was forgotten as men ran to the sidelines to don shirts and scabbards.

Robert turned and picked up his own shirt from the ground. “Make ready to leave.”

“Leave? But Gavin says the celebration goes on until dawn.”

“It does.” He shrugged into the shirt. “And we will. But not here. I have another celebration in mind.”

She felt her chest constrict, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

His lips twisted. “Why do you think Gavin sent you to plead his case? He knew there was a chance lust would cloud my judgment. Every man in Craighdhu can tell just by looking at me that I can hardly wait to bed my wife.” He met her gaze. “And so can you. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She felt the same triumphant exhilaration she had before. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted.”

He picked up his scabbard. “Then make ready to leave. I’ll tell Tim MacDougal to start the skirl.”

   The men of the clan stood facing each other in a double row that stretched across the glen, with Robert and Jock forming the first duo. The wail of the bagpipes rang out as Gavin and Jean stepped forward.

“Robert, I know you don’t wish to do this,” Gavin said in a low voice. “I would not ask it if it wasn’t—”

“Present swords,” Robert called out, interrupting him.

Scabbards hissed and swords gleamed beneath the torches as the arch was formed.

“Thank you, Robert.” Gavin grabbed Jean’s hand. “Come on, love.”

Kate watched them walk down the arch of swords. Jean was now one of them. Embraced, held tight within the arms of the clan.

“Kate.”

She turned to see Robert holding out his hand to her.

She stared at him in shock.

“By God, no!” Jock said as he lowered his sword.

“Kate,” Robert said again.

She moved slowly to stand beside him. The protection of the clan, a victory she had not even sought. She was now Robert’s responsibility in every sense, officially part of the world that was so precious to him. She belonged, even though it might only be for the next year.

Unless there was a child.

She gripped his hand with eager strength.

“Are you mad?” Jock muttered.

“It’s a night for madness,” Robert said recklessly. He pulled Kate under the arch of the swords and began to run down the gauntlet. He was laughing, and she found herself laughing too.

She could hear the bagpipes playing, and their song was for her.

The wind touched her cheeks. It was blowing for her, bringing her the scents of mist and earth that were Craighdhu.

She could see the clansmen laughing approvingly. The approval was for her; she had worked and won it in these last weeks and would hold it forever.

She was part of Craighdhu, part of all of them.

And, most of all, part of Black Robert of Craighdhu.

Robert slammed shut the door of her chamber and unbuckled his sword. “Undress.”

Her hands went around to unbutton the back of her gown and then stopped. No, she could not do it. If she used her wiles to lure Robert in the way she wished him to go, she would be the harlot Sebastian had called her. “There’s something I should tell you first.”

“Not now.” He tossed his scabbard on the chair by the door.

“Now.” She squared her shoulders and then gestured to the gown she wore. “I’m seducing you.”

“Good.”

“No, I deliberately set out to do it. I gowned myself and made myself smell sweet.… I wanted you to want me.”