Caeleb climbed the three flights of stairs to his chambers, his legs heavy, as if he slogged through calf-high mud. He opened the door and paused at sight of the low-burning fire in the hearth. He couldn’t help a tired smile. How many days had the fire been maintained in anticipation of his return? With a sigh, he closed the door and unbuckled his leather armor as he crossed to the bench before the hearth. Caeleb sloughed the armor from his shoulders and laid it on the bench. He removed his gambeson, tossed it onto a nearby chair, then sat on the bench and removed his boots. An acrid smell wafted up. He grimaced before realizing the smell was him. Caeleb lifted a shoulder, sniffed his plaid, then choked at the stench. His clothing smelled worse than a wet dog. He pulled his sash off his shoulder. As he dragged his tunic over his head, a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” he called, and tossed the shirt onto the floor.

The door swung open and Gwendolyn entered, followed by two young lads carrying a large, round, wooden tub. “Set it near the hearth,” she ordered.

The two lads placed the heavy tub near the hearth. Gwendolyn waited near the door, arms folded under her breasts, as additional lads carried in buckets of hot water and filled the tub. Once the tub was full, and a table was set nearby with a dish of soap and a drying cloth, she dismissed the lads.

One boy paused in the doorway. “Do ye need more wood for the fire?”

She shook her head. “Nae.”

He nodded, then hurried from the room.

“Stay, Gwen,” Caeleb said as he began unbuckling his belt.

The door clicked shut. Caeleb stripped off his breacan, then tossed it aside and stepped into the steaming water. No sound came from behind him, but he felt Gwen watching. He wetted his hair, then scooped a piece of the soft soap from the dish on the table and lathered the tangled mass. He ducked beneath the water. Warmth engulfed him. Eyes closed, Caeleb gave in to the weightlessness. Spending the extra coin to have the large tub built was one of the wisest choices he’d ever made. Unlike the decision to travel so near a valley that became a trap, forcing them into a life-or-death battle he’d had no intentions of fighting.

His lungs began to tighten with the lack of air. Caeleb rubbed the soap from his hair and lifted his head from the water. He raked hair from his face, draped his arms over the side of the tub, and waited.

A long moment of silence passed. “Come scrub my back, Gwen,” he said.

The faint rustle of skirts followed. He sensed her nearness an instant before she stretched an arm past him to the soap dish. Her fingers touched his shoulder and he allowed his head to fall forward as she washed his back. Stroke after stroke, his muscles relaxed beneath her familiar touch. His mind, however, replayed the memory of the sea of men bearing down upon them.

Two years ago, he had been a young laird of twenty-three, newly arrived in Dunvegan to replace his uncle as laird. Though the title wasn’t intended to be his, the clan welcomed him as their new chief. Where had his leadership been on his mission of peace…or when they’d been attacked?

War strips a man to his core. Tests his strength, his courage and his will. When confronted by a sea of hostile faces, a man’s humanity no longer exists. He reacts on instinct. Like an animal. A savage. That is what their enemies had made of them. Now, Caeleb simply wished to never again step foot on another battlefield. But that wish was not to be. Not until he put to rights their betrayal.

Gwen sighed. The soft sound drew him back to the present. He’d thought of her every day he’d been away. The knowledge that she awaited his return had given him strength when his muscles burned with exhaustion from wielding his sword. For the first time in his life, he loved a woman. He wouldn’t let the Donald dogs take his life, not when he had a chance to love a woman like Gwen.

Her hand slid lower. His bollocks tightened. Did she need him as much as he needed her? Her fingers stroked. His cock began to rise. He’d been away from home too long.

Caeleb slid down into the water to his shoulders, scrubbed the soap from his arms and back, then stood. Water cascaded off his body. He grabbed the drying cloth from the table, rubbed the dripping water from his hair, then stepped from the tub and faced Gwen.

She still knelt. As she did when uncertain, she nibbled her bottom lip. Caeleb rubbed the cloth over his chest. Her eyes followed the action. His heart began to pound. He tossed aside the cloth, then grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and he crushed her mouth beneath his. Caeleb reached behind her and yanked free the apron tie, then broke the kiss and made quick work of her dress.

The garment pooled at her feet and she stood in her chemise. She pulled the sleeves down her arms and shimmied out of the garment. His cock further hardened. He swung her into his arms, carried her to the bed and fell with her onto the mattress.  

* * *

Gooseflesh raced across Gwen’s arms when Caeleb lightly nipped her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She’d lived these last weeks in fear that he wouldn’t return, in fear his death would be on her head. Wasn’t the death of his warriors on her head? She’d tried to find him. If she had, she would have confessed all. Tears rushed to the surface. Now that he had returned safely, she would ensure his continued safety—then disappear.

He kissed her, long, sweet and with a need that drove all other thoughts from her mind. She breathed in his scent. It was just as she remembered; clean and masculine. He thrust his member along her belly. She longed to feel him inside her. He broke the kiss and slid his mouth across her cheek to her ear.

“Did ye miss me, lass?” the murmur of his velvety voice melted her insides.

“Aye,” she whispered. So much it still hurt.

Two days ago, when rumors of the ambush at Daunlaby reached them, she’d been certain God would punish her by taking Caeleb in battle. Not until Caeleb’s warrior had arrived this morning with news of the battle—and assurances that he lived—had she known whether he lived or died.

He hugged her so tightly, the air expelled from her lungs. She didn’t deserve to share his bed. But she couldn’t live without experiencing the warm strength of his arms around her one last time.

He levered himself over her and fitted his cock to the entrance of her channel. Her pulse leapt when he surged into her. Each time was like the first. Their love had blossomed in those early months—despite her determination not to succumb to his charm. Theirs was a love that never should have happened, but a force she couldn’t fight. If destiny existed, Caeleb was hers. He began to move inside her. Her heart squeezed. He was her other half, but he wasn’t her future. He was a dream, and the time had come to wake. Her position with this clan had always been temporary. For now, she would cherish every remaining moment.

Caeleb kissed the spot where shoulder met neck. She shivered. He thrust faster, harder. He wrapped his arms tight around her as if he would never let go. Their sweat-slicked bodies contacted then separated with every thrust. Gwen tightened her grip on his arms. His skin glistened. She wanted to remember this forever. Would he remember her once she was gone…once another woman took her place in his bed?

His breath quickened. “Gwen,” he said in a voice thick with desire.

She would never forget the deep timber of his voice.

“So sweet,” he rasped.

Gwendolyn’s pleasure suddenly ripped through her. She cried out and pressed her face against his shoulder. He increased his speed, each stroke blinding her with its intensity. His arms crushed her impossibly close for three heartbeats as his release took him. Then he relaxed, and she drew a breath as he slowly stroked again, then again and again, before finally collapsing on top of her.

They lay unmoving a long moment, his powerful heart thumping against her breast. When the rhythm finally slowed, he slid off her. Gwen drew another deep breath.

He levered up on an elbow and locked gazes with her. “Why will ye no’ marry me?”

Her heart twisted. The man was nothing if not tenacious. “Please dinnae ask me that.”

“Why?”

“You know why. Because ye are a laird, and I am a servant. You are accustomed to the attention, the power. You like the challenges of entertaining some of Scotland’s greatest adversaries. ‘Tis not my place. My dreams are no’ that grand.”

“What are your dreams, for I would do anything to make them come true.”

Gwendolyn laughed. “To live a simple life, far away from politics, war and even fine banquets.”

“What are you running from, Gwen? You speak often of your desire to be alone. But ye will no’ tell me about your family, or your life, for that matter. Please, give me something, anything that would help explain why you wish to leave.”

Caeleb’s words, his pleading tone, nearly broke her heart. He spoke true. She had revealed nothing of her past. What would he think of the illegitimate daughter of the Scottish warlord, the Black Douglas? Would he be shocked to learn that she had a sister to care for, and that they had spent their lives running and hiding? Though they’d had no ties to their father for six years—since Gwen was twelve—as his daughters, she and her sister were prizes to be had, for many who sought revenge against Douglas would go to great lengths to get their hands on them. That made them a liability…a liability Laird Caeleb MacLeod couldn’t afford.

Worse, she couldn’t tell him that she was one of the select women who lived at Glenwood Abbey, called The Sisters of The Sinister Order. The abbey had long been abandoned by the monks who once lived there and was now a safe haven for young girls who had lost their homes. Though, safer for some than for others.

Who could have guessed that Gwen’s talents would be her undoing? Girls with ‘special gifts’ were recruited by Malcolm Donald, captain to the Donald laird. Gwen recalled the day Malcolm recruited her. Too great to ignore was the promise of enough money for her to buy a small piece of land where she and her sister could forget that they were the daughters of Black Douglas. Malcolm swore that by helping him, she would only be helping clan Donald stay safe. The need to stay safe was something Gwen understood.

But Malcolm had lied. It wasn’t the clan he wanted to safeguard, but himself. Malcolm reared his adopted daughters to do his bidding. Spies, warriors, harlots, each lass enriched Malcolm coffers. He taught Gwen the most despicable trade of all: to be a spy…a traitor. Gwen learned so well, that she shared the MacLeod laird’s bed.

Nae, she couldn’t tell Caeleb any of these truths. But neither could she keep avoiding the question.

“My mother died young, and my father didn’t want me. With no family, I lived by my wits.”

He brushed a finger along her cheek. “Yet here ye are, working as a kitchen maid.”

“Once this conflict with the Donalds is over, it will be safe again to travel.”

He smiled gently. “Where will you go? You said you had no other home.”

“I will go where the wind takes me. There is a place out there for me, Caeleb. I simply need to find it.”

As far away from Malcolm Donald as possible.

* * *

Gwen spoke of finding a home, but the sorrow in her eyes told Caeleb she didn’t want to leave any more than he wanted her to.

“Ye have a place, here—with me. I beg you, stay.” He placed a kiss on the smooth flesh of her shoulder, then gazed into her eyes again.

Though she lay safely in his arms, she seemed a hundred miles away. He didn’t know what pain she had suffered, but it was clear her mind fought a great battle. If only she could confide in him, perhaps, together, they could find a resolution.

Caeleb thought of the small wooden box in his desk. The dainty gold ring with a circle-cut ruby that lay inside had been his mother’s. Now, he planned to slip that ring on Gwendolyn’s finger.

He kissed her shoulder again. “I cannae live without ye.”

“Aye, you can,” she said in a dry voice.

“Nae, lass,” he said. “No more than ye can live without me.”

“You are laird,” she said. “You will marry a noblewoman. Maybe the daughter of an earl or an heir to an estate. That is the way of things.”

“Once, mayhap.” He traced a finger around the areola of a pink nipple that had hardened. “Before I met you.”

She shivered. “You have obligations.”

“Obligation be damned,” he murmured. “I will marry you and no other.”

“You are a rogue,” she said in a breathless voice.

He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Your rogue.” He cupped her breast. “Fight all you like, I know ye love me.”

Gwen swatted his arm and turned to face him. “Dinnae be so cocky.”

He smiled down at her. “No’ cocky, sweet. I’m a man in love.”

She pushed him onto his back and snuggled close. She traced a finger along his chest. “I was so worried when we received the news ye were attacked.”

His jaw tensed. “They drove us into the valley. If they had attacked on open ground, even outnumbered, we would have stood a better chance of beating them.”

“But you did beat them. Otherwise—” she broke off.

Caeleb hugged her. “Aye, we beat them back. But we lost half our warriors in a battle we weren’t supposed to fight. That isnae a victory, Gwen.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, then she said, “What will you do?”

“What I must.”

Gwen pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Do what you must. I must return to the kitchen. I have been gone too long as it is. They will be wondering where I am.”

“They can go to the devil.” Caeleb hugged her close. He kissed her, then whispered against her lips, “Do ye know what I want?”

“What, Laird?”

“I want you in this bed every night. ‘Tis where you belong.” He trailed kisses down the side of her neck.

Gwendolyn wiggled in an effort to escape. “I must go,” she said with more urgency. “If I stay any longer, I will never get out of this bed.”

“Promise ye will come to me tonight.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I must.” She wriggled from his grasp. “The laird of this castle has demanded a feast. Ye cannae expect me to go against my laird.” She rolled off the bed and began dressing.

He watched her. “What shall I do without you?”

“Rest. You will need to.” Gwen tied her apron, then kissed him on the top of his head and hurried out the door.

He stared at the closed door. God, he loved that woman.