Page 13 of Highland Guard

Then again, she mused as she let in the young girl bringing her the heated water to wash with, just how clever does one have to be to use poison? The moment the girl left, Annys shed her clothes and washed off the sweat and dirt she had collected while working in the garden all the while pondering that question. It was one she should have asked Harcourt, she thought.

Dealing with murder, betrayal, and deceit was not something she felt confident to do. She had never dealt with such things before. The men now training her men and shoring up Glencullaich’s defense showed they had lived a harder life, one touched by such darkness as battle. Sir Callum knowing about poisoning as well as the lack of shock on the faces of the other men as he explained to her about his cousin, told her they probably all knew a lot more about murder than she did. Determined to speak to one of them, she quickly dressed and hurried out of her bedchamber only to meet up with Harcourt right outside her door.

Harcourt caught her by the shoulders before she ran into him. He had come to ask her about getting some supplies and if the recommendations her men had given him were of people she wanted to deal with. The questions were now stuck in his mouth as he stood so close to her he could smell her freshly washed skin. It was an achingly familiar scent, despite the years they had been apart, for he had often scented it when his mind had returned to the time they had been lovers. Worse, whenever he had caught a similar scent in the air, he had been taken back to that time by the river and the feel of Annys in his arms.

He was going to kiss her, he decided as he gently nudged her back until she was pressed against the door. It was something he had been aching to do from the moment he had seen her again after so many years. All he had to do was catch a glimpse of her hair as she walked across the bailey and memories of the times they had been together flooded his mind. If nothing else, he needed to know if his memories were true, if she truly tasted as sweet as he remembered.

“Harcourt,” she said, the tone of her voice hinting at the protest she was about to make.

“Hush. I but seek to discover if my memories are true ones.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, his mouth was on hers. The touch of his lips on hers sent heat flaring through her body so quickly, Annys gasped from the shock of it. Harcourt took quick advantage of her parted lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. The abrupt increased intimacy of the kiss only added to the fever of need possessing her. Annys flung her arms around his neck, pressing her body close to his, as he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Each stroke sent heat straight to her loins.

She wanted to wrap her whole body around his. She wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands, rubbing against hers as they clung to each other while naked as the day they were born. She wanted to be surrounded by his heat. She could feel his hardness pressed against her and she wanted him inside her.

It was the strength of that desperation that finally pulled Annys free of the frantic need his kiss inspired. It was so fierce, so sudden, that it frightened her a little. She put her hands against his chest and pushed even as she tore her mouth away from his. The dazed look upon his face both pleased and worried her, especially since she suspected she looked much the same. It was all too much, she thought. Too strong, too overpowering, too mindless. Annys had little doubt that, if she had not come to her senses, they would have ended up coupling against the wall right there, in the hall, where anyone could see them. She certainly had not had the willpower to put a stop to it while caught in the power of his kiss.

“Annys,” he said as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Nay.” She pushed at him again, moving out of his reach when he stepped back from her. “Nay.” She could feel the burn of a deep blush on her cheeks. “Sweet Mary, we are standing right out in the hall.”

“Then let us go somewhere more private.”

“I think not. I am the lady of this keep. ’Tis best if I act like it.”

Harcourt watched her walk away, although she moved so quickly it could fairly be called running away. He resisted the urge to chase after her like some animal but the urge to do so was surprisingly strong. It was undoubtedly for the best that she retreated now. If she had not pushed him away he would have taken her there, up against the wall where anyone in the keep might have seen them.

He was still achingly hard. Shaking his head, he began to make his way back to the stables where he had been carefully examining every harness and saddle. With each step he willed himself to go soft. Harcourt did not want anyone seeing him in such an aroused state, especially since most would know exactly whom he was lusting after.

And all from just one kiss, he thought in amazement. It was as if all the hunger the memory of her had stirred up over the years had simply settled down inside him, just waiting for the moment he had her in his arms again. The need that had rushed over him when he had kissed her had been overwhelming, blinding him to everything but the craving to bury himself deep inside of her. This time there would be no seeking out some willing woman to ease that need, either. He did not want one.

Pausing after he stepped outside, Harcourt mulled over that last thought. He had been as close to celibate as he ever wished to be for over a year and as far from celibate as a man could be before that. Yet all hint of the need to bed a woman faded away at the thought of going to one, one who was not Annys. The hunger gnawing at him was for her and only her.

Harcourt waited for the guilt he had always suffered to pinch at him. It did not come. He still felt a little for bedding a married woman but, at some time over the last five years, he had come to terms with what he had done. What he needed to come to terms with now, to make a firm, clear-headed decision about, was what he wanted from Annys. Harcourt was beginning to suspect the answer to that was everything.

Annys stared at the tapestry she had been working on. It was not helping. She could not shake the memory of that heated kiss. She could still taste Harcourt on her mouth, still feel the heat he had stirred within her even though it had subsided to a soft glow. Unfortunately, as it had faded, guilt had once again raised its ugly, tormenting head.

It was a senseless guilt, she thought crossly. There had been no betrayal. She and Harcourt had done exactly what David had wanted them to do. Annys did not think she had ever seen anyone as delighted, as joyous, as David had been when she had birthed Benet. She may have broken one rule of the Church by lying with Harcourt while she was married to David, but she had obeyed her husband just as the Church advised all wives to do.

“And I was fruitful and multiplied,” she muttered.

“Weel, only the once.”

Startled by Joan’s voice coming from behind her, Annys turned to glare at her maid. “Ye shouldnae creep up on a person that way.”

“Sorry,” Joan said, not sounding at all sincere. “Still wrestling with yourself, are ye?”

“Joan, I broke the rules.”

“Only one and your husband ordered ye to do so.”

“He asked, nay ordered.”

“We both ken that David was verra good at making orders sound like requests so that ye couldnae say nay. He ordered ye to go with Harcourt because he wanted a bairn. That ye actually gave him a son only delighted him more. Do ye ken, when I could see how much he loved that child, I would begin to fear that he might try to find ye another stud.”

Annys gasped. “He wouldnae have done that.” The moment she uttered the denial, Annys found herself wondering if it was deserved.

“Aye, I can see that ye are now thinking on it. David couldnae give ye bairns. Wheesht, he could barely consummate the marriage. That was because of his own guilt or confusion as much as it was from his injury, I think. I dinnae think he was e’er able to forget that ye were intended to be his brother’s bride. He had kenned ye as Nigel’s promised wife for far too long to shake free of that idea just because Nigel was dead. But, e’en if he could have o’ercome that, he still couldnae have given ye any bairns. That jealous husband’s sword took all chance of that away, didnae it. So he came up with the plan to breed ye like some mare. We argued about it, ye ken.”