Seventeen
Bridgette paced her bedchamber, anxious for word from Lachlan. It seemed the hour had grown very late, and as time went by and she heard nothing, fear knotted her belly. She absently picked up a brush as she passed her dresser and smacked it in her hand, her mind racing with worry. Had Lachlan and Graham gotten into another fight? Should she go down to the great hall? Or would that make matters worse?
Bridgette threw down the brush in frustration and stalked to the window to gulp in some fresh air. As she looked into the courtyard, Lachlan came striding across it as if he were charging away from battle. God’s teeth, had he fought with Graham?
She rushed down the stairs and out of the castle into the dark courtyard. When she rounded the first corner to the seagate stairs, she gasped as Barclay appeared and they nearly collided. He gripped her arm to steady her and gave her a look that struck her as guilty.
“Are ye fine?” he asked, concern and tension in his voice.
“Aye. Ye’re out awfully late,” she said, simply trying to make polite conversation.
“I could say the same for ye,” he growled, surprising her. He shifted the sac he was holding.
“I did nae mean to pry,” she offered quickly. “Good night to ye.” Then she brushed past him. Odd, that she had thought him very mild mannered before. The man was prickly.
She raced the rest of the way down the seagate stairs toward the water where she saw Lachlan standing in the moonlight. Not even the dark of night could disguise the power of his body. It poured from him with every sweep of his sword above his head, every thrust, every lunge. When she reached him, she was panting as much from her efforts to traverse the craggy terrain as from the lust he stirred in her.
He completed a fast turn and yanked his sword in front of him with a grunt, then stopped with it raised in midair when he saw her. She heard his sharp inhalation. Was that happiness to see her or vexation that she was there?
He stepped toward her, then halted, and fear crashed over her. Perchance he had decided there was too much at stake with the seer’s prediction for them to be together at all. He drove his sword into the ground with a growl, and his torture-filled eyes met hers.
“I failed Graham.” The pain in his voice made her tremble. “I failed Graham years before, and I failed him again today because I was too weak to turn away from ye. I chose to nae deny how I felt about ye any longer.”
God’s bones! The world around her swayed. What was he saying? She could not make her mouth work to form the question. He stepped directly in front of her, dropped to his knees, and wrapped his thick arms around her legs. Her heart thundered as she looked down at him.
“Are ye turning away from me, then?” she whispered.
“Nay, Bridgette, nay!” He buried his head against her legs for a long spell, then finally tilted his head back to look at her. “I kinnae turn away from ye.”
The anguish in his eyes did not give her the solace she sought. She was destroying Lachlan and Graham with her selfishness. Why could she not find the strength to make herself simply go away from them? She could easily return with Alex to the MacLean hold, but her heart wouldn’t let her.
Lachlan slowly stood and pulled her against his hard chest. His arms came around her and rested heavily on her shoulders as he dipped his forehead and pressed it to hers. “Graham told me I am nae his brother any longer.” Guilt drenched Lachlan’s words and ripped at her heart. “He absolved me of my vow to keep him safe and said that I’d nae ever been good at it anyway. I did nae argue because I ken his words have the ring of truth.”
“Lachlan, nay!”
He shook his head. “He spoke the truth,” he said again with more force. “My teasing him when we were young about nae being a good hunter led him to leave Lena, and that’s when she drowned. It was nae his fault nor Atholl’s, who tried to save her. I failed Graham then, and I fail him now.”
“Nay!” she cried, cupping his face.
“Aye!” he argued, his eyes burning with what he thought was the truth. His guilt and pain broke her heart, and she could think of no way to convince him he was wrong. His gaze pierced her as he spoke. “He said our mother told him after Lena died that if I’d been Lena’s defender, our sister would still be alive.”
“God’s bones!” Bridgette moaned. How horrible for Graham. “Why would yer mother say such a thing?”
Lachlan’s face set into hard lines. “Grief, I suspect. And anger. I dunnae think she meant it, but she was nae one to offer apologies. She was loving, for certain, but a hard woman.”
“Poor Graham.”
“Aye, and I made it worse.”
“How?” she demanded sharply, angry that he wanted to heap all the blame for Graham’s problems on his shoulders.
“By teasing him and making him feel worthless with my need to keep him safe, and now I am hurting him yet again. And—” Lachlan squeezed his eyes shut, and his voice dropped to an agonized whisper “—I hear a voice in my head telling me that I must save him from himself, but I dunnae ken how to do it without giving ye up, and I won’t do that. Nor am I certain it would matter anyway. I feel as if I’m being cleaved in two.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “If something happens to him, ye might begin to hate me…”
He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and stared into her eyes. “Nay. Never. I love ye. I just wish I kenned a way to ease his pain.”
“I do, too,” she whispered. “Perchance I should go back home for a spell.”
“Nay!” he said vehemently. “I need ye here.” And as if to show her, he ran his fingers in a slow, sensuous circle on the nape of her neck, under her hair, and if she could have thought of any argument for why her going might be best, she certainly could not now. Her blood hummed in her ears and her breasts grew heavy with the need to feel his fingers and his mouth on them.
“I like verra much when I touch ye and can see yer desire for me on yer face.” A carnal smile came to his lips. “If we’ve settled our problems… He grasped his sword and quickly sheathed it.
“I kinnae think properly when ye touch me,” she admitted.
“I ken it,” he replied. “And it pleases me greatly.”
He looked so arrogant that she laughed, but she also had the sudden urge to remind him that they were equals. She boldly cupped his manhood. He growled in response. She slowly licked her lips while massaging his staff.
“What of ye, Lachlan? Are ye able to think when I touch ye?”
“Oh, aye.” In the blink of her eyes, he had scooped her up and into his arms. “I’m able to think about how I want to plant myself deep within ye. But beyond that, all I can think of is how fast I can remove our clothing.” He leaned toward her and feathered kisses down her neck and over her collarbone until she shivered in his arms and caressed the length of his back in return. He raised his lips to hers as he slid his hand under her legs to lift her up, snug against his chest.
She gasped. “Where are ye taking me?”
“To the cave where we may have privacy,” he growled. “I want to forget everything but us for a while.”
She wanted that, too, but even as she acknowledged the desire, she also knew their problems would not go away. “Tell me of the king and what he said,” she asked as he walked.
He strode into the dark cave, lit only by moonlight, and told her of all the king’s suspicions. “I need ye to be cautious,” he said. “I will watch over ye, but please dunnae go off alone. Ye ken there are men who would wrongfully force an alliance from yer brother by trying to take ye as his wife. If ye were my wife…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “We both ken why we must wait. Let us nae talk of that again. Let us seize this moment alone while we have it.” She feared with all the turmoil and the need not to hurt Graham further, the moments would not be many for some time.
He nodded and then divested himself of his weapon, his plaid and other clothing. Her body burst into flames at the memory of their joining, but even as her desire burned, a thought occurred. When Lachlan stepped toward her, she stopped him with a palm to his bare chest. The contact of his skin singed her, and a fierce craving for his body rose in her. “I’ve something to ask of ye.”
He pushed her hand aside and tugged her to him. She was keenly aware of his hard thighs brushing against hers.
“Aye?” His voice was low and seductive. He brought his hands to her shoulders and, with a deftness that amazed her, relieved her of her gown and undergarments. She did not protest. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She needed to feel him and to assure herself that their love could not be destroyed. She suspected, by the way he stared at her with raw need, that he felt the same. Yet, she could not succumb until he promised to treat her as his equal always.
His hands slid from her shoulders to her breasts, and he cupped them before lowering his mouth to one and then the other. Between the wicked slide of his tongue around her bud, he paused and then, without looking up, said, “Tell me what ye wish to say.”
“I need ye to allow me to fight by yer side if a battle comes here.”
His response was to suckle her breasts until her knees gave and he was holding her up.
“Lachlan,” she groaned, “yer pledge!”
He straightened and stared into her eyes. “Ye are my equal always, m’eudail. And I will do all in my power to ensure other men understand ye are their equal as well. I kinnae lie and say I want ye fighting by my side.” She glanced away, hurt, but he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Ye are the fiercest woman I’ve ever met, and ye are more skilled than most men with a bow and arrow, but ye’re nae as strong as most men. It’s a fact that kinnae be changed. If a battle rages and ye wish to shoot from a distance, then so be it. But if ye are in the thick of the battle, my mind would be on ye and nae on what I must do. I kinnae cut down my enemies as I must if I am only thinking upon keeping ye safe. Do ye ken what I mean?”
She wished she didn’t, but she did. Reluctantly, she nodded. “I ken ye,” she grumbled.
He nodded but did not release her chin. “I want ye to vow something to me now.” Instead of waiting for her answer, he lowered his head to one of her breasts and circled his tongue around her bud, once, twice, three times, until she moaned and arched toward his mouth, greedy for more of him. When he pulled away and stood to face her again, her body screamed a protest.
He slid both his hands to her breasts, and his thumbs worked their magic as he spoke. “I want ye to vow that ye will listen to me and obey me when it comes to a battle being safe for ye to fight.” When she opened her mouth to object, he gently pressed a finger to her lips. “Please, m’eudail, I need this from ye. I vow to always explain if I say nay, and I vow to relent to ye in other ways.”
With how he had pleaded and his vow to explain himself and relent in other ways, she thought that, in this moment, she might vow anything he asked, God help her.
“I pledge to listen to ye when it comes to my joining a battle,” she agreed. “Now, in what ways will ye relent to me?” She instilled a husky, teasing note into her question.
The lines of worry that had marred his face disappeared immediately, and a wicked gleam filled his eyes.