Twenty

“Laird MacKenzie.”

Darach rolled over with a groan and tried to block out Gare’s annoying voice. Aye, the sun was up, but Darach had only gone to sleep a few hours ago—after Gregor had brought out the uisge-beatha.

“Laird MacKenzie, there’s someone here to see you. A woman.”

That got his attention, and he cracked open an eye to look into Gare’s worried face. His brothers and Gregor slept scattered around him on the dewy ground.

“She says she knows you well.”

Darach frowned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Who on earth could it be? The nearest farm was at least an hour’s ride away.

He sighed, head pounding, and squinted toward the woman. Too far away to see clearly, he pushed back his plaid, stood, and walked gingerly toward her. For sure, his hair stuck out in all directions, but he was too tired to care.

His warriors backed away as he neared, and his eyes widened. Wynda MacIntyre.

What in hell is she doing here?

The aging, buxom redhead lived in the neighboring clan to the west and Darach had…visited her upon occasion. Four times to be exact, which had been three times too many. She’d been happy to have him in her bed, but Darach was ashamed to say, after he’d tupped her, he couldn’t leave fast enough. There was something about her he didn’t trust, and he should never have returned—not the second time, the third, or the fourth time.

“Good morning to you, Wynda,” he said, stopping several feet away. “Is there trouble that brings you so far from home? Your clan and Laird MacIntyre are well?”

She moved closer, and Darach had to stop himself from backing up. “They’re all right, Laird MacKenzie. I only thought to share your company if you are returning home. I shall be visiting my cousin, Firth MacKenzie, at your village for the summer. ’Twill be good to see more of you.” She laid her hand on Darach’s arm and stroked her fingers through the rough, springy hair that covered it.

He quickly stepped back. Her blue eyes hardened as her arm dropped back down.

“I am recently married, Wynda. ’Tis not a personal offense, I assure you.” He gentled his voice in order to spare her feelings. “You are welcome to ride with us, of course, and I wish you a happy visit with your cousin, but…I willna seek you out. You understand.”

After a moment, she looked up. “Aye, Laird, I understand. I understand that men stray, and when you do, you’ll know where to find me.”

The thought repulsed him, and he squared his shoulders. “Some men behave so, as I’m sure you know, but I would ne’er disrespect my wife or my vows in such a manner. Doona expect to see me after today.” He inclined his head, then turned back toward camp.

Her voice drifted over his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

* * *

Caitlin was not responsible for the mess in the kitchen. She’d been in there trying to re-create some of her mother’s favorite dishes for Darach, dealing with not only her own faulty memory—for it had been over three years since she’d helped her mother cook—but also the grunts of disapproval coming from Nell every time Caitlin did something different. And apparently there was a big difference between Scottish and French cuisine, at which her mother had excelled.

Her father had always praised Claire’s cooking, and now Caitlin knew why. When she’d arrived at her uncle’s keep three years ago and finally come out of her depression, the tasteless food she’d been given had been a shock. She’d thought it would be better at the MacKenzies, and it was, but still nothing compared to her mother’s cooking. She could re-create it if only she could remember what her mother had done.

Unfortunately, Nell had blamed Caitlin for the fire in the bread ovens. She’d had naught to do with it, but had still been chased out of the kitchen along with her “daft foreign ideas” before her dishes were done. ’Twas most unfair.

She sat, disgruntled, on the steps in the bailey leading up to the keep. What else could she do? She’d wanted something to show for herself when Darach came home. Her mother had always kept busy making special dishes for Caitlin’s father, helping with the farming, and keeping their cottage spotless. She’d also cared for the animals, of course, a skill she’d taught Caitlin.

But until Cloud was found, the creatures at Clan MacKenzie were not in need of her services, so she wandered into the keep and through the great hall, looking for something to clean. Unfortunately, Edina had everything dust free and smelling fresh. Maybe Caitlin could find something to do in their private rooms. After taking the stairs two at a time, she wandered down the corridor, peering into each bedchamber and looking for disorder.

It wasn’t till she came to Darach’s solar that her heart picked up. It was a cluttered mess. Parchment lay in jumbled piles on his desk, books littered the floor, and hardened wax was dribbled everywhere. The only thing that seemed clean was the beautiful wool rug on the floor. She’d seen Edina beating it in the bailey to shake off the dust numerous times, along with the tapestry on the wall. Why would she have left Darach’s desk in disarray?

Striding toward it, Caitlin sat in his well-worn pine chair. Fortunately, her father had taught her to read, so she would have no trouble organizing Darach’s correspondence and putting his books in order by topic and author. To start, she swept the excess sand that he used to dry the ink into her hand and tossed it out the window, then she placed all the writing implements in one, easily accessible spot. Next, she gathered up the books and placed them on a chair to be sorted later.

She’d just begun on the mounds of parchment when Edina came into the room and shrieked, making Caitlin knock one of the piles to the floor.

“Lord in Heaven, lass. What are you doing?”

Gathering together the scattered letters, Caitlin placed them back on the desk. Edina hovered nearby, a horrified look on her face.

“I’m helping my husband. I doona know how he finds anything; his desk is a mess.”

Edina groaned and caught the back of the other chair for support. “You will get out from behind there now, and ne’er touch anything in here again.”

“’Tis all right, Edina. I can read. I willna throw away important letters.”

“You willna throw anything away. Get out now before you cause any more damage and he kills us both!”

She came around the desk with a shooing motion and Caitlin hurried to the door. “You doona understand. Darach will be happy for my help.”

Edina did naught but glare at her and slam the door shut behind them. Caitlin was sure if Edina had carried a key, she would have locked it.

Tears of frustration burned her eyes. She blinked them back and strode down the corridor, hoping her stiff spine and angry gait would express her full displeasure. She was lady here; there had to be something she could do that would please her husband.

In the bailey, the clashing of swords rang out in the fresh, warm air. If her mother could help her father with the farming, maybe Caitlin could help Darach to defend the castle.

She spotted Oslow instructing the young warriors at the far end of the bailey and ran toward him. He saw her coming at the last minute and pulled her aside just as a practice arrow whizzed past her head. Caitlin looked at the archer, who’d fallen to his knees and become a ghastly shade of white.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

The lad nodded weakly and croaked an incomprehensible answer.

She turned back to Oslow, who scowled at her, fingers biting into her arm. “Would you have your husband come home and find you dead, then?”

“Nay, doona be silly. I just wanted to speak with you. I’ve decided to learn how to wield a sword. Darach would be happy if I knew how to defend myself, maybe fight alongside him one day.”

Eyes wide, Oslow stared at her for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. Then laughed some more. When it looked as if he would never stop, Caitlin marched back to the keep. She’d find her own sword and teach herself how to fight.

On the walls of the great hall hung a multitude of magnificent weapons. She eyed the biggest, a great battle-ax, and yanked on the handle. It didn’t budge. Grasping it with both hands, she pulled again with all her might. Suddenly it came free of its moorings and the heavy, sharp blade swung downward. A tanned arm shot out just in time and grabbed the ax, stopping its fall inches above Caitlin’s foot.

Her heart stopped at the mishap, then started to pound as she looked up into Darach’s furious face. She’d never seen him so angry, even when she’d dug up the bailey. The ax must have been very important to him.

“Christ Almighty!” he bellowed, placing the weapon back with one hand and wrapping the other around her waist. His body shook, his eyes black with fury. Caitlin promptly burst into tears—great, gulping, shoulder-heaving tears.

It had been a difficult day.

She planted her face on his chest, which rose and fell with deep, agitated breaths. His heart beat so fast, so hard, she could feel it against her cheek. His other arm came around her, squeezing to the point of pain. “Shh. Doona cry.”

Nodding her head, she cried even harder. He lifted her into his arms and headed for their bedchamber. He shut the door and sat with her in one of the big chairs before the hearth. She tucked up beneath his chin and let the tears run their course.

When her sobs had been reduced to the odd hiccup, she sighed and clasped his hand. He was still tense and the occasional shudder racked his body. Caitlin stroked his palm soothingly.

“What in God’s name were you doing?” he asked, voice cracking.

Her mind wandered back through the events of her day, every one of them ending in disaster. All she’d wanted was to please her husband, but she’d just been a bother. To Nell, to Edina, to Oslow—and to Darach. She thought about telling him everything, but it occurred to her he might not be sympathetic.

“Nothing,” she said, for lack of a better response. She prayed he would accept her answer and move on.

He didn’t. Grasping her chin, he forced her head up, so she looked at him. Narrowed eyes clashed with hers.

“Caitlin,” he prompted.

“Aye?” She tried a halfhearted smile.

A frustrated sound burst from his lips and he frowned. “What did I tell you on our wedding night?”

Their wedding night? Surely he didn’t want to talk about that now. Heat rushed up her cheeks as images of their bodies entwined on the bed, the same bed that was behind them, played across her mind. She shrugged, heart pounding, and tried to look away.

“I will hear you say the words, wife.”

She gasped. God in Heaven. How could he ask such a thing? She’d endured enough over the last few days without this additional embarrassment. She tried to get off his lap, but he held her in place. Everything inside her quickened—her breathing, her temperature, the ache between her legs.

She searched for something decent to say. “You said you were glad I was your wife.” Maybe if she reminded him of those words, he’d cease this torment.

His arms tightened around her. “Aye, and I meant it. But after that, what did I say?”

She closed her eyes, only to be bombarded with more lusty images. The heat on her skin was so hot she wanted to strip off her clothes. “You told me to spread my legs.”

It came out a whisper, and he stilled. His hand gripped her waist.

“What—what did you say?”

“Spread. Your. Legs. Those were your words.”

Her voice was thick and heavy, same as her body, and when she opened her eyes, his face had been transformed. That intent, feral expression that gave her such a thrill had replaced anger and frustration. His hand stroked up her stomach and stopped just below her breast.

He swallowed, blew out a heavy breath. “I remember. But…but after that. What did I say to you after that?”

“You told me to wrap my legs around your waist.”

He dropped his head to her neck and groaned. It vibrated through her body, setting everything aflame.

“Caitlin, you’re killing me.” His teeth nipped her throat. “I want to know about after the loving. What did I say when we were done?”

“God’s truth, I canna remember. But I think I’d like you to kiss me now, aye?” Her hands fisted in his hair and tugged upward.

“Aye,” he agreed, then locked his lips to hers.

Mouth hot and greedy, she opened it immediately. He plunged inside, stroking the sensitive flesh, capturing her tongue and sucking it into his mouth. She felt wild, out of control, and pressed her body to his, rubbed her breasts against his chest.

He growled into her mouth, then released her lips and kissed down her neck. The warm puffs of breath on her skin were like an arrow straight to her core and filled her with the desire to spread her knees and lift her hips. She arched upward—an offering. Wanting more. Wanting everything.

“Darach!”

He pressed his big hand to her breast. She shuddered. The need to be possessed by him pulsed through her body.

“I canna wait. Please.”

He captured her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, then stood with her in his arms and strode to the bed. By the time he laid her on the quilts, he’d already released her brooch, the one he’d gifted her on their wedding day, and her arisaid fell open, leaving her in her linen chemise. With no time wasted, he stripped off her shoes and hose, then grasped the bottom of her chemise and pulled it over her head.

Her hair tumbled around her bare shoulders, and she giggled. Looking up, her laughter faded. He watched her intently, eyes stroking her naked body, then caressing her face and hair as he would a precious gift. Her heart swelled with love, and she reached toward him. He gently took her hand, sat on the edge of the bed, and kissed it, loving every finger, her palm, the back of her wrist.

“You are a miracle, lass. My miracle.”

Tears filled her eyes—happy tears. “I love you, Darach MacKenzie.”

He smiled, kissed the wetness from her cheeks. “I love you too, Caitlin MacKenzie.”

She gasped, pulled back to see his face. “You do?”

“Aye, of course I do. I wouldnae have married you elsewise. Only true love could have tempted me to the altar.”

With a squeal of joy, she threw her arms around his neck, laughing and kissing wherever she could reach—his ear, his head, his brow.

“Say it again,” she demanded.

“Nay.” His hands stroked her back, curved around her bottom. “’Tis not something a warrior says easily. In fact, I may ne’er say it again.”

“Aye, you will, every night, or I’ll ne’er leave you alone.”

“I doona want you to leave me alone.”

Their eyes met and the intensity between them changed, deepened. She stroked her fingers across his lips.

“Take off your clothes, Husband.”

In a matter of seconds, he stood naked beside the bed and stared down at her. She reached out to stroke his thigh, his strength a marvel to her. Her hand caressed higher through the rough hair and she ran her fingers along the crease where his leg met his body. The muscles quivered beneath her touch, and she smiled.

Darach MacKenzie loved her.

She made him tremble.

“Touch me,” he said, voice rough, hands fisted by his sides. Her own excitement rose to know he fought to control himself.

Her hand surged upward, exploring his rigid shaft with her fingertips. Lightly, then harder, circling the crest and over the moist tip. The trembling increased, as did his breathing, and his flesh pulsed. It fascinated her. So primitive, so exciting. She remembered how he’d filled her between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together to contain the sudden, hot ache.

“Enough,” he said with a shaky breath, and moved over top of her.

She lay back against the soft quilts, loving the feel of his body weighing her down, wedged between her legs. Loved the pressure in that exact spot. First it soothed her, then it made her squirm. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she rubbed her feet against the back of his calves.

“Tell me again you love me,” she said, nibbling his neck, inhaling the wild scent of him—pine, fresh air, horses. He smelled like her man.

“Well now, I doona know for sure, but I can say with nary a doubt that I love this spot right here.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “This spot too, and this one.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and her chin, making her sigh.

Then he kissed his way down her neck to her nipple, laved it with his tongue. Her breath caught. “I definitely love it right here.” He took her breast in his mouth and sucked. Hard. She groaned and arched her back. His hand stroked upward to squeeze her other nipple, and she jerked, hips rocking against him, knees opening wider.

“Darach, for the love of God.”

“You wanted me to tell you I loved you. I’m not finished yet.”

She whimpered as he moved farther down her body. Each kiss given with love driving her closer to madness. Every nerve ending screaming that he mount her, take her.

When he reached the crease where her thigh and body met, she realized he wasn’t going to stop. A wanting for this last, intimate kiss filled her. At the same time, she was horrified. She tried to sit up, but his hand pressed her back onto the bed, held her down. His other hand pressed her knee wider.

She raised her head. Their eyes met. “Darach, nay.”

A treacherous smile curved his lips. “Caitlin, aye.”

Then he lowered his head and licked her womanhood from bottom to top in one slow sweep. Everything exploded and she squealed. Her hips bucked against him, her muscles clenched. Gripping her pelvis, he found her nub and sucked. Another wave of bliss crashed over her. He moved up her body before it was over and entered in one quick thrust. She clamped around him, her pleasure deepened, intensified. He drove into her, hard and fast.

It was almost too much. She sobbed for him to stop, to not stop, to slow down, to speed up. Then something broke, her body tensed at the same time as his, and she tumbled over the edge. He shuddered above her with his own release, his mouth covering hers in a carnal kiss.

This must be what Heaven’s like.

* * *

She had no idea how long they had lain there, boneless. She didn’t even remember him rolling over with her.

“Am I too heavy for you?” she asked.

“Nay, love. I like having you on top of me.”

She rubbed her hand over his muscular shoulder. Her mind and body were mush. The things he did to her.

“I must say, I love tupping. I canna imagine anything more pleasurable than what you just did to me.”

“What we did to each other. And we doona tup, Wife; we make love.”

She smiled against his chest, loving his domineering tone. “Aye, Husband.”

They rested together for a while, hands idly caressing, lips kissing. Brisk air wafted in from the open window and blew over their naked bodies. It made her shiver, and he covered them with the quilt.

“Do you want to talk about your father?” he asked. “I doona like it when you cry, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll listen.”

Propping her chin on her hands, she looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, thank you for that, my laird and master.”

A flush crept up his neck. “All I meant was…it kills me to see you upset.”

She smiled and kissed him. “I understand. Men are weak.”

His outraged expression made her laugh. He smacked her lightly on the behind and she shrieked, startled and thrilled at the same time.

“You’ll be getting more of that if you’re not careful, lass.”

He looked like her laird and master now. The urge to sit up overwhelmed her, and she straddled his pelvis. It surprised her to feel him harden between her legs. Her hips rocked against him. “More of what precisely?” It came out a whisper.

The breath gusted from his lungs and he pulled her back to his chest. “More of me, a lot more, but not yet. I want to talk about your father. You must be sad about it.”

She sighed. “Aye, I was verra sad yesterday, but then I realized I was being daft. It mattered not if I came from his seed. He loved me as his own. For me to think otherwise dishonored him.”

Darach tightened his arms around her. “You have the right of it, lass.”

Her mind wandered for a moment, and she played with the rough hairs on his chest. “I did wonder about my mother, though. Do you know how she came to be pregnant with me?”

“Nay, lass. I’m sorry. If you want, I can make inquiries.”

Was that what she wanted? It would satisfy her curiosity, aye, but it wouldn’t make her any happier. “’Tis not necessary. My life is here with you and the MacKenzies. A long and happy one with bairns and grandbairns, if we are so blessed.”

He nodded and squeezed her tight. “You deserve every happiness, lass, after what you went through. ’Tis a miracle you weren’t changed by the ordeal. You have a light within you that warms even the darkest soul.”

“’Twas hard at times. But my uncle had taken so much away from me, I wouldnae let him take my spirit too. ’Twas the one thing I had left from my parents. They had loved me well, shaped me into the woman I am today. I couldnae let my uncle destroy that. So I made a choice to give thanks for everything I had—a beautiful sunset from the window at my uncle’s keep, a wee bird landing on the sill, an apple fallen from a basket that I could sneak to Cloud. And eventually God brought me the greatest gift of all—you—for which I am eternally grateful.”

He delved his hands into her hair and raised her head for his kiss—hard, yet soft at the same time. His lips worshipping hers, his tongue a gentle caress. Then he laid her head back down on his chest, one hand stroking her hair, the other curved possessively around her bottom.

Aye, she was happy. She couldn’t be more so. But there was one thing she did want to know. “What was it you asked me about earlier, the thing on our wedding night I couldnae remember?”

He tensed beneath her and she glanced up to see him frown.

“What I told you was ne’er lie to me again, yet when I asked what you were doing with the ax you said, ‘Nothing.’ That was a blatant lie. If naught else, you were attempting to chop off your foot. Only by the Grace of God did I get there in time.”

She groaned silently. Why had she brought that up? She really was a daft bat.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?”

“Why did you lie to me, and what in God’s name were you doing with the ax?”

“I didn’t lie…exactly. I just avoided the question. I doona always want to tell you everything. And the reason I had the ax was because Nell kicked me out of the kitchen when I was trying to make one of my mother’s dishes. She blamed me for the fire in the ovens, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“So…you were going to kill Nell with the ax?”

“Of course not. Are you mad? I’d ne’er kill anyone.”

“Then why did you have the ax?”

“Because Edina shooed me out of your solar. She was most rude about it. I just wanted to help you organize a wee bit.”

He stilled beneath her. “You were in my solar?”

“Aye.”

“Organizing?”

“Well, not verra much. ’Tis an awful mess, but she shrieked at me to get out.”

Caitlin lay there, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, she looked at him. He stared at the ceiling, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Darach?”

His chest rose and fell slowly beneath her hands. “Doona go in my solar without me again. Please.” He closed his eyes briefly. “So you wanted the ax to kill Edina, then?”

She giggled, a bit nervous about telling him the rest. “You’re a daft man. No wonder God made women.”

“Aye, because everything you’ve said so far makes perfect sense.”

“I had the ax because of Oslow.”

“Oslow? What did he do?”

“He laughed at me. In front of your men. ’Twas most hurtful.” She tried to sound wounded to gain his sympathy.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, but I’ll speak to him.”

She pushed onto her elbows, horrified. “Nay, doona do that. Really, ’twas my fault.”

“Why? What did you do?”

She bit her lip, wondering how to tell him. Looking back, it may not have been a good idea, but at the time it made sense. After all, this was the fifteenth century. “My mother used to help my father with the farming.”

He frowned again. “Aye?”

“Well, you doona farm. You’re a warrior, so I thought I could be like my mother and help you…with the fighting.”

His jaw dropped, much like Oslow’s had. It wasn’t a good sign, and the heat stole up her cheeks. Darach closed his mouth, then opened it to say something, then closed it again and shook his head.

“That was why you had the ax? To fight?”

“Aye, if Oslow wouldnae teach me, I would teach myself.”

He gripped her arms and sat up with her. “God in Heaven, Caitlin. I am your husband. I fight to protect you!”

“But what if you weren’t here? Wouldnae it be better if I knew how to wield a sword?”

“Nay! You willna touch a sword, a spear, or that bloody ax again. You almost cut off your foot.”

“’Twas because the ax was so heavy. Next time I will know how to handle it properly.”

“There willna be a next time! Christ Almighty, woman, if you died, it would be the end of me.”

That mollified her, but his anger was like a palpable force, and she dropped her gaze. His chest rose and fell in quick, sharp breaths. She should never have told him.

He huffed out a lungful of air. “This is about you finding your place.”

“What?”

“My purpose is to protect those I care about, most importantly, you. Nell’s purpose is to cook for the clan. Edina’s purpose is to clean the keep. Except for my solar. No one cleans my solar but me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her by placing a finger over her lips.

“You take care of people, and you tried to do that today, didn’t you?”

Aye, she’d tried to do something nice for her husband, to make him happy like her mother had made her father happy. “You’d like my cooking.”

“I’m sure I would. And maybe if you speak to Nell you can find a time to cook when it doesn’t conflict with her. But the best way you can help me is by caring for the clan. You have a wonderful way with people. Make sure they’re all right, that they feel cared for. Go see them, talk to them. Help them with their animals, take them some of your cooking if you want, ask for advice, share advice. Know their birthdays. Then you can tell me anything important I need to know. Does that sound like a good idea? One that doesn’t involve sharpened metal?”

She answered by throwing her arms around his neck. “Aye, that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Already she imagined all the things she could do in the village, how she could help the clan and Darach. Take care of the little things he would miss.

They held one another, and after a minute, his hands slid lower to massage the soft curves of her bottom. Her heart sped up. Maybe he would make love to her again. Like this. She shifted closer.

“Darach?”

“Aye?” He moved against her, harder now, sending that hot, heavy feeling to her groin.

“Do I have to be on my back when we make love?”

He raised his knees behind her, and she was wedged against him. If she lifted upward and then down, he would be inside her body. Lord in Heaven, how she wanted to do that. She rocked her core against his shaft, almost to the tip. He surged in response.

“Nay, you can be in any position you like.” His voice shook, and he nipped along her collarbone to her shoulder.

“And if I like this position?” She rocked again, stroking him a little higher this time, nails digging into his back, breasts rubbing his chest.

“Then I like it too.”

On the third stroke, he lifted her at the end and slid inside. They groaned and held each other tight. Darach tangled his hands in her hair and gave her a hard kiss, then surged inside again.

“I suppose now’s not the best time to tell you my brothers and Gregor are waiting downstairs.”

Her eyes popped open in horror. Then he hit a sweet spot inside and the protest in her throat turned into a lusty moan.