Warrior’s Redemption (34 page)

When she lay back this time, it was his wet, heated skin rather than the rough wood that cushioned her back.

His hands again covered her stomach, skimming their way down to her thighs. Over and under he rubbed until at last his fingers parted the folds between her legs and found the sensitive nub centered there.

In tiny circles, he rubbed round and round, slow at first and then speeding up as if his hand attempted to keep pace with her rate of breathing.

His erection, grown large and hard, pressed into her back and, when one of his fingers slipped inside her, she began to rock against him, stopping only when her muscles exploded in a tremor of ecstasy.

H
ER BODY TIGHTENED
around his hand in breathless little spasms until at last her full weight lay back against him, her beautiful breasts heaving as she panted for air. Her eyes were closed, but a satisfied little smile curved her lips.

He’d done that. He’d put that look on her face. Not for the first time and not for the last. She was his and he would never give her up.

He kissed her neck, her ear, her cheek, before lifting her forward and entering her from behind. She was warm and welcoming and fully ready for him as he rocked his hips against her perfect round buttocks.

Once, twice, a third time, reveling in her moans until he realized he held her hip over the large discolored area.

“Have I hurt you?” he asked, withdrawing and pulling her close, making sure he didn’t touch the spot again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered breathlessly.

“It does to me.”

He stood, lifting her in his arms, and climbed from the tub, fastening his lips over hers again. She tangled her fingers in the hair at his neck, driving him wild, convincing him the bed was too far away.

Dropping to his knees on the fur next to the fire, he put her down, pulling her on top of him as he lay back. With her on top, he wouldn’t have to worry over putting pressure on her bruises. They would go at her pace.

She needed no encouragement.

As they entwined their hands she lowered herself onto his erection and began to move in a sensual dance of bend and sway that forced his release much sooner than he would have chosen.

“We’re good at this, are we no?” he asked when he could speak again, needing to hear her confirmation of what he’d seen in her face.

“We are,” she said, her head tucked against his neck.

“I canna live without this,” he confessed. “I canna live without you.”

She leaned up on one elbow, tracing her finger over the mark of protection on his chest, taking her time
before she spoke again, obviously choosing her words with care.

“But you will. You must in order to save your people. We both will do what we have to do, but it makes it easier knowing you love me as much as I love you.”

That knowledge made nothing easier.

“I will speak to the MacKilyn. I will explain. It’s as simple as that. Yer the one I want to wed. You and no other.”

She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before she withdrew. “We’ll both do what we have to do,” she repeated, one lone tear tracking down her cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb, realizing as he did so that, in spite of all they’d been through together, it was the only one he’d ever seen her shed.

“Dani,” he began, feeling the need to question what was on her mind, but a pounding at his door prevented his asking.

With a curse of frustration, he rose to his feet, picking up his plaid and winding it loosely around him as he crossed the room.

Eric waited on the other side of the door.

“Yer pardon, my laird, but the MacKilyn and his party have arrived. He sends his apologies for the hour of his arrival, but insists upon speaking with you now. He awaits yer audience belowstairs in the great hall. Him and those what travel with him.”

“A moment.”

Malcolm closed the door, stopping to retrieve a dry
shirt from the chest by his bed before he crossed back to where Dani sat.

She’d already slipped into her shift when he reached her, her eyes as closed off from him as her body.

“You’ll wait for me here, aye? I’ll deal with this and we’ll have it over and done with.”

“You’re the laird of the MacGahan, Malcolm. You don’t have the luxury of dealing with it as you might like. You’re responsible for an entire clan. Their welfare comes before yours. Or mine.”

“I’m no going to argue the point with you now. You wait here. When I return we’ll have time for all yer blether.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading back to the door, tucking in his shirt as he went.

“Malcolm?”

He turned once again to see her smile.

“We both do what we must. I just want to make sure you know that I’ll always love you. No matter what. No matter when.”

He returned her smile, easy enough since she brought such joy to him. Closing the door behind him, he followed Eric down to the great hall.

N
OPE. THIS DEFINITELY
was not going to work.

Dani tied the last lace on her dress and moved around the room, blowing out candles as she went.

Oh, she had no doubt that Malcolm had honestly meant what he said about refusing to marry the MacKilyn girl. But once he got downstairs in front of all the clan, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She knew him too well. He would never be able to put his own interests ahead of those who depended on him. He had too much honor.

And if he did, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

This evening with him had convinced her of what she needed to do. There was no way she could stay. All he’d have to do would be to crook his little finger and she’d be in his bed again. She didn’t have the ability to refuse him now any more than she would have that ability when he was married.

And sleeping with some other woman’s husband was something she could not do and live with herself.

Besides, hadn’t Christiana warned her that life
would be challenging?
Only in letting go will you hold on.
She understood the meaning now. She had to let go of Malcolm so that she could hold on to her sanity.

“So there you go,” she said aloud as she stepped back into her room, closing the door to Malcolm’s chamber.

Her cloak was where she’d left it, folded neatly on the bed. There was really nothing else she needed. Once she had it on, she picked up a candle and headed out into the hallway.

She chose to go the back way. There’d be too many people in the main hallway and probably even in the kitchen since guests had just arrived.

Guests.
The word squeezed at her heart. Malcolm’s new wife and her father.

Quietly she made her way through the narrow halls, passing only one young girl on her way outside. She kept her head turned and her cloak pulled low around her face so it was unlikely the child had any idea whom she’d passed in the hallway.

The cold bit into her exposed hands when she stepped into the night, so she blew out her candle and left it on the ground, freeing her to wrap her hands inside her cloak. The moon gave plenty of light to find her way.

Beyond the gardens, the half-finished walls of the bathhouse loomed eerily in the dark. Though it would be a wonderful addition to the grounds when Malcolm finished it, it would never compare to the bath he’d prepared for her tonight.

“No!” she whispered into the night. She couldn’t
allow herself to dwell on what had been. Now was the time for what would be.

She carefully picked her way across the rocky ground to what would one day be the entrance of the building, her eyes focused on her destination.

If a small piece of rowan wood would have been powerful enough to get her here, surely an entire rowan tree should be able to get her back to her own time.

T
HE GREAT HALL
was ablaze with light and activity when Malcolm entered. Both fireplaces roared with freshly built fires, and torches had been lit all around the room.

From the number of bodies seated at the tables, it appeared as though the MacKilyn traveled with fully half his household. Serving girls scurried from the filled tables out toward the kitchen and back again, carrying trays and pitchers of ale for their weary guests.

Patrick sat at the main table next to an old man who could be no one else but the MacKilyn himself. A small girl and a young woman rounded out the group.

Malcolm studied the woman’s face as he approached. The daughter no doubt. Pleasant enough to look at. But she wasn’t Dani.

“Angus MacKilyn?” he asked as he approached, and the old man stood, holding out his arms for an embrace.

Perhaps he always greeted his potential sons-in-law in such a manner.

“MacDowylt, my lad. ’Tis good to meet you at long last. I’ve heard many things about you from those
who have passed through my own hall.”

The young woman smiled up at him and a wave of guilt swamped his conscience. He should tell them now. There would be no marriage.

No marriage and no warriors to defend Castle MacGahan when Torquil’s men came seeking retribution.

Another wave of guilt, this time accompanied by the familiar feeling of failure. This failure his largest of all. This time he would fail his entire clan, possibly leading to the deaths of every man, woman, and child in the castle.

He felt the blood rush from his head and he sat down heavily in the chair Patrick had vacated.

“Are you well, lad? You’ve a pale cast to yer face,” Angus observed.

“We’ve only this very morning returned from a hard journey to the west,” Patrick hurried to interject. “Malcolm’s no yet had a chance to rest up.”

“Ah, I see.” The old man nodded his understanding. “Speaking of a strenuous journey brings me to the subject of the boon I’d have of you, lad. The boon in return for the lending of my soldiers. But first, I’d have you meet my daughter, Aeschine, and her attendant, Marie.”

So this was it. The time had come for him to do what needed to be done. He glanced to Patrick, heartsick when his brother quickly averted his eyes.

Had Patrick guessed his intent?

We both will do what we have to do.
Dani’s words echoed though his mind as he rose to his feet to meet the woman he was to wed.

“Give our host a proper curtsy, Aeschine,” Angus ordered.

The little girl crawled out of her chair and curtsied clumsily. “I’m tired, Da. Can I no have my bed now?”

“Janet!” Patrick called, and the chief maid materialized from the shadows as if by magic of her own. “Will you see to settling the ladies in their quarters?”

Malcolm watched wordlessly as the old maid bustled the MacKilyn daughter and her attendant out of the great hall.

The child was Aeschine?

Malcolm sat back down, his mind reeling. This changed everything. She was hardly more than a babe, perhaps five or six years at most. The old laird must be crazed to think to marry off a bairn such as she.

“I dinna believe I can agree to meet the terms of yer boon, Angus. I will no be a party to wed a babe such as yer wee lass.”

There. He’d said it. It was out in the open and he’d deal with the consequences.

“Wed my Aeschine? You?” The old man laughed. And continued to laugh, hard enough that Malcolm was forced to pound on his back when he choked.

“No, no, lad,” Angus said at last, through a raspy gasp for air. “You’ve heard the talk, I see, but you canna believe all you hear. There’s them what likes to
embroider the stories, aye? Especially when they dinna have all the facts at their disposal.”

“But you did ask for a boon in return for the lending of yer men. And in the past you have insisted that yer allies marry yer unwed daughters, have you no?” Malcolm had heard those stories from many places.

“A boon I did request. It is that you house my traveling party for a few days while we rest before continuing on our journey to my elder daughter’s home in Perth. She’s agreed to take Aeschine to live with her since the death of Aeschine’s mother. And I’d have you welcome us again on our return trip home.” Again the old man laughed. “And as for trading my daughters’ hands for the strength of my alliance, I had no need to require it of any, though many offered such through the years. It’s a story that grew out of my having naught but female children, I suppose. And perhaps the one young buck I bullied into asking before he was ready. But only because my oldest girl wanted him.”

Malcolm felt like a fool. He could only be thankful that the child had left the room before he’d opened his mouth to speak.

“My apologies, Laird MacKilyn. It seems I have misjudged you. Please consider Castle MacGahan open to you at any time you’d like to stay for as long as you’d like to stay.”

“Aye, well, I ken it to be a great deal to ask. I travel with a large number of my household and I’m well aware it’s a drain on yer coffers to feed us when we’ve all suffered the bad crops of the last season.”

Malcolm sat silently as the serving girl set a small tray in front of him filled with cheese and meat before filling his tankard with ale.

Ale he really felt he needed.

Once more the old man laughed, more to himself than anything. “I’d no have you take this the wrong way, lad, but it’s all well and good to be yer ally. Yer a strong and able warrior and I’ve a respect for that. An honorable man too, as I hear it. But I’ve long heard the whispers of yer clan’s claim to otherworldly ancestors and though I personally have no belief in such fancy, I’ve no desire to taint my bloodline with such whispers. Even if my lass were old enough to take a liking to you.”

Malcolm joined in the laughter this time. “No offense taken, I assure you.”

He dug his hand into the bag at his waist, searching for his knife to cut a slice from the meat. Instead his fingers closed around a small, hard object. One he’d all but forgotten he had.

Dani’s ring.

He’d placed it in his bag after he’d taken it from Torquil’s hand and in the days that followed, he’d forgotten all about it.