“I’ll have you this way,” he whispered into my ear. “I have to have you. Now. Let me, lass.”
Again the touch was withdrawn. He was testing me, gauging my acceptance. I made a small sound of frustration and tilted my hips back to him, offering myself in a wanton invitation for more. I was wild with relief when his touch returned, playing me, until I was rocking ever closer to receive him. I felt him position himself, deliciously stretching me as he slid farther. Then he buried himself in a driving, powerful thrust. I burst instantly from the pressure that filled me so exquisitely and so completely. He lifted my hips higher, and his hand stole to the exact place I needed it. The deep, forceful possession worked in time to the melting stroke of his fingers as he rode me gently, over and over. My bliss, which had begun at his very first drive, enveloped me in a profound haze of rapture. The pleasure was so acute I had to writhe against him, squirming against his big, relentless body, just to bear the excesses. He clamped his hands to my hips and thrust deeper into me than he’d ever been, then held. I could feel a shudder roll through him, then the lustrous beat of his own upheaval spooling richly into me. In his impassioned climax, his groans were pain-edged, almost as if he were stopping himself from crying. I, too, had fresh tears in my eyes from the intensity of this, and of us. My core rippled along with him, perfectly in time, as though my body sought to draw every drop of his essence into my very soul.
With his weight leaned heavily over me, Wilkie’s hand coasted up my back, pushing aside the mass of myhair to kiss my skin. He kissed my mark, and the feeling of his lips on that secret, always-forbidden place, was stunning.
“How will I ever survive you, Roses?” he whispered close to my ear. “I just don’t know how I will bear all the pleasure of you.”
From a far-off distance, I heard our names being called. Wilkie’s bath, to be sure, had taken longer than expected. I didn’t respond at first; I was floating on the radiating effects of his loving.
But I was aware that he needed his treatment sooner rather than later. I helped him dress, and I dressed myself and collected the small candle that still burned. We returned up the path to the camp.
“He’d better be extremely clean,” scolded Ismay.
She had already prepared the scene. A blanket was laid out close to the fire, and a number of bottles and jars were lined up near her bag. And Laird Mackenzie and Kade were on hand, as well as Fergus. This worried me. Would Wilkie be so pained that he’d needthreemen to hold him down? I hoped Fergus’s appointment was merely as a guard, and not as one of Ismay’s assistants.
“Roses, you sit there,” Ismay instructed, pointing to a fur that had been placed some distance away from Wilkie’s treatment area, as though she was wary that I might be more of a hindrance than a help to her. I was mildly irked by this, after all the times I’d helped her tend to others, albeit for more minor wounds than Wilkie’s. I moved the blanket closer and sat.
First Ismay treated Wilkie’s many smaller cuts, and she decided to stitch the small slice in his arm. Then she wrapped a bandage around it. Thankfully, Wilkie seemed swilled enough by the effects of the whiskeythat he barely flinched during the stitching procedure, so I hoped his senses were suitably dulled. I thought he might even sleep, but his eyes remained half open and aimed straight in my direction.
Ismay nodded to Wilkie’s brothers, who placed their hands on the back of Wilkie’s shoulders and around his arms in a decisive grip.
“Just a little sting now,” said Ismay to Wilkie. To his brothers, she whispered authoritatively, “Hold on tight.”
And she began to meticulously drizzle the whiskey onto Wilkie’s opened, raw flesh. Wilkie flinched violently, thrashing against his brothers’ hold, grimacing and groaning with the agony of the burn. But Ismay continued, until she was satisfied that the wounds had been properly sterilized, taking little notice of her unruly patient’s loud, furious response to her treatments. I’d never heard such curses in all my life.
And when she was finished, she asked Laird Mackenzie and Kade to continue holding Wilkie for a few minutes longer, as she smoothed the healing salve onto the wounds and bandaged them. She may have feared retribution.
By then, Wilkie’s eyes were closed, and when his brothers released their hold, he lay still.
“Still alive, brother?” asked Kade wryly, yet with a note of unmistakable concern. I was learning Wilkie’s brothers, too, I realized. I knew Kade well enough to recognize that he was wont to find humor even in the direst of situations. It was a quality I found intriguing. I couldn’t help but think that Stella Morrison was in for a time of it with Kade Mackenzie. There were aspects to his fierce, direct countenance that were, occasionally, outrageously intimidating. But the more timeI spent around him, the more I could detect an underlying unruly playfulness to his character, which was both appealing and enigmatic; there were edges to this playfulness that suggested fun but also the distinct possibility of danger. Again I wondered what Stella’s impressions of Kade were, and how she was reacting to the news of her impending nuptials.
“Aye,” Wilkie muttered from the depths of a pillow, not sounding entirely convincing.
“I daresay he’ll live,” Ismay said. “And a good night’s sleep will do him a world of good.”
“Thank you, Ismay,” I said. She smiled and packed away her medicines.
We settled into our sleeping furs for the night, close to the fire. Wilkie was next to me, his furs draped over us both. He lay on his side, facing me. The on-duty guards patrolled nearby as the others readied themselves for brief hours of sleep. Ismay lay close to Ritchie, I couldn’t help but notice, and he was already snoring lightly, barely visible in the deep cocoon of his blankets. Laird Mackenzie stared into the fire while Kade sipped from a small silver flask. Fergus stood in the near distance, facing into the night.
In my life, I’d never had cause to consider preferences, in company, in family, in friends. My purpose had not allowed for me to dream. I considered my new fate, as the daughter of King William, if it was so, bound for a new life at Ossian Lochs as the wife of Wilkie, who would by rights become the new laird. It was a lot to grasp. I was more than a little intimidated by the thought of Ossian Lochs, and of joining its established clan as a newly entitled overseer, with only Wilkie by my side. It was true that Wilkie was all Ineeded. He was everything that was essential to my life. But if I were to look beyond that, beyond him, I could acknowledge that there could be more, too. Ritchie and Ronan would accompany us. And Fergus, the stoic, silent giant whose presence afforded me with a profound and newly valued sense of safety, might also come with us. And now Ismay, as well. I was sure she would join us; she had already voiced her intention to stay with me: my most trusted and only true friend in all the bleak days of my servitude, who had unfailingly offered me as much comfort as one can give in such circumstances.
I settled closer against my warrior, his strong arms holding me as tightly as they had in our very first fevered embrace. I looked up at the star-studded sky, listening to the low sounds of the darkness and all who were near. And as my heavy-lidded eyes watched first my own beloved, then one by one the people gathered around the softly crackling fire, I felt comforted by their company and their nearness. I was surprised to find the firelight blurring with my own tears as a dawning realization overcame me: these fellow travelers who surrounded me felt like, and were,my family.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WEWEREWELCOMEDBACKto a relieved, excitable clan Mackenzie. My news, along with that of the king’s imminent arrival and our impending marriage, had the clan fairly buzzing. And if I thought I’d been pampered and fussed over before, it was nothing compared to the insistent attention that now surrounded me. I was the chosen wife-to-be of the desirable, respected Wilkie Mackenzie. I was also the king’s daughter, and the king himself would arrive at Kinloch the very next day, to view me for himself. So I must be readied to a suitable, highly presentable standard for the gathering tomorrow night, an event that would serve as not only a wedding and a king’s welcome, but also of Wilkie’s impending lairdship and the ensuing newly strengthened alliance and bond with the Stuart clan.
And I had returned from the Ogilvie battle in the disheveled, dusty, windblown state of a scantily clad and very weary traveler, so there was much work to be done.
The entire keep was being cleaned, spruced and decorated, and Wilkie’s chambers, especially, seemed overrun with attendants whose sole purpose was to heal, cleanse and preen us into—at least for this occasion—the jewel of the Mackenzie crown.
The Munros would remain for the gathering.
The Morrisons had taken their leave during ourabsence and would return in a fortnight, when the wedding of Kade and Stella Morrison would take place here at Kinloch, yet another event that had the clan energized with speculation. And I couldn’t help but overhear many of the circulating questions. Had Kade sacrificed himself so that Wilkie could marry me? It was understood that the two of them had only met for the first time just days ago, at the Mackenzie festivities. It was such a quick proposal, but after all, Stella was widely regarded as the most beautiful of the Morrison women. Had it been love at first sight, or was it merely Kade’s split-second decision to take the lairdship on offer, one that had been all but refused by his brother?
I felt a nudge of remorse for Kade, and I hoped fervently that he hadn’t stepped up only to release Wilkie from his duty. I suspected all eyes would be on Kade and his fiancée in the coming weeks and especially at the marriage, in an attempt to answer those very questions.
Wilkie had told me that, depending on the king’s decision, we would remain at Kinloch until after Kade’s wedding, to prepare our travel party and then make our way to Ossian Lochs.
