Highland Captive Page 13

  “That I’d tuck Ewan in before he fell asleep,” Deirdre said. “Will you come with me, Isobel?”

  “I’d like to, but Kerr has turned quiet. I’m afraid he’ll kill Gavin.”

  “He willna,” Deirdre said. “I’ll make him promise me, and then we’ll leave them to talk. They’re educated, civilized men. They doona need to resort to violence.”

  She marched toward Kerr, her gaze focused on him. Isobel’s eyes widened, then she hurried to catch up. Gavin saw Kerr’s gaze shift to Deirdre, then back to him, then quickly back to Deirdre when she stopped right in front of him. Kerr’s lips barely moved as he responded to whatever she said.

  Gavin wanted to hear, and he mounted the stairs. Could it be that Kerr MacAlister had finally met his match in his cousin? This small, soft bundle of goodness whom no one wanted to disappoint?

  He edged closer, and when Kerr’s eyes shifted to his again, Gavin’s brow rose. His foster brother, who was easily twice Deirdre’s size, looked unnerved. Kerr never looked unnerved by anyone. Finally, he heard him say, “I promise not to kill him, Cousin. And I willna yell at him either. And aye, he is a delicate flower.”

  “What?” Gavin said, his ire rising, and Kerr smirked.

  Isobel tugged Deirdre past Kerr and into the keep. Gavin kept climbing the stairs, glaring at Kerr, who dropped his smirk and glared back.

  “I am laird here,” Gavin said. “’Tis my land, my castle, my keep, and my son. You doona get to tell me what to do. The only one I need apologize to is Deirdre. Which. I’ve. Done.”

  He smacked shoulders with Kerr as he walked past and whistled sharply to his men as soon as he entered the keep, ordering them to leave. God alone knew what he and Kerr had just started. And Deirdre may think she’d averted a fight by getting Kerr to promise not to yell, but the reality was just the opposite.

  Kerr shouting was the least of his worries.

  The men all scrambled to get out, knowing what was brewing. Gavin moved toward the small hearth, Kerr hot on his heels.

  “Where’s your sword?” Kerr demanded.

  Gavin rounded on him. “Not here. So you canna draw yours. You get one punch because I lied to you. After that, I punch back.”

  “Two punches. You lied to me and to Isobel. You made her cry.”

  “Nay, looking at your ugly-arse face made her cry. And she’s forgiven me, so you canna use her.”

  “Your son has been sick with worry. I lost count of how many times I had to pretend to be a bear to distract him.”

  Gavin huffed out a surprised laugh, then forced a frown. “You’re so full of shite. You liked it. Being a bear is as natural to you as breathing.”

  Kerr started to yell, but Gavin pointed his finger to the ceiling. Kerr glanced at the stairs to make sure the women weren’t coming down. When he swung his head back, he also swung his big, meaty fist and caught Gavin by surprise, smashing into his chin.

  Gavin stumbled back and tripped over a stool in front of the fire, landing hard on his arse and his elbows. Kerr jumped and landed hard on him. He shoved him down, and Gavin’s head smashed against the rushes on the stone floor, which cushioned the blow. Another blow hit his shoulder, which made two punches, and Gavin started to fight back. He grabbed a handful of twigs from the kindling pile beside the fire and shoved the scratchy ends into Kerr’s face. His foster brother reared up and spat out some of the offending pieces that jammed into his mouth. Gavin took advantage and smashed his forehead into Kerr’s nose.

  “God’s blood!” Kerr yelled, rising and stumbling backward, his hand over his nose. “That hurt, you donkey-loving blackheart.”

  Gavin fell back to the rushes, one hand rubbing his jaw. “I said one punch. You took two.” He pointed to the blood running through Kerr’s fingers that held his nose. “That’s on you.”

  Kerr sat down heavily on one of the chairs and tilted his head back. “Well, get your arse over here and fix it.”

  Gavin pushed up from the floor, wincing as he put weight on his shoulder. He crossed to Kerr and on the way saw the young stable hand from earlier frozen in place at the door, watching them. He had Gavin’s broadsword in his hands.

  Gavin sighed and held out his hand for it. “Thank you, lad,” he said as the boy rushed over and gave the sword to him. “’Tis just a wee dustup between brothers, aye? You can tell everyone that I won.”

  “He did not!” Kerr bellowed.

  “Hush, or you’ll have the women down on us.” Then Gavin looked at the lad and mouthed, I won, as he pointed to his chest.

  The lad grinned and ran to the door, letting it slam behind him.

  Gavin laid the sword and scabbard across a chair and leaned over Kerr. Kerr dropped his hands, his fists clenched by his sides.

  “Do it,” Kerr said. “I doona want it to heal broken.”

  Gavin gently explored the bridge of Kerr’s nose with his fingers and felt where the cartilage needed to be aligned.

  “A dirty fight,” Kerr grumbled. “First you shove twigs in my mouth, and then you head-butt me.”

  “And who swung first without any warning? ’Twas you.”

  “What’s the point of fighting if you warn someone firs—aaagggrrrhh!” Kerr yelled as Gavin squeezed hard and adjusted the cartilage back into place.

  “There you go. No warning. Just how you like it.” Gavin wiped his fingers on his plaid, moved his sword, and slumped in the chair beside Kerr. “I would ne’er have gone for your face, except you went for mine first.”

  Kerr grunted, then sighed. He would be a frightening sight to those who didn’t know him, his long, dark hair hanging loose around his massive shoulders, several days growth on his square jaw, and blood smeared under his nose.

  “So, tell me what happened after you lied to Isobel and me and had us take Ewan to the loch. Where were you going?”

  “To meet Lewis.”

  Kerr whipped his head toward him. “God’s blood, the MacIntyres are here already?”

  “Nay, just Lewis. He sent a messenger and asked to meet before his father and Deirdre’s brother arrived.”

  “I canna believe you didn’t tell me.”

  It was Gavin’s turn to sigh. “Me neither. I was just so…”

  “Angry.”

  “Aye.”

  “Out of control.”

  “Aye.”

  “Foolish and idiotic.”

  Gavin ground his jaw, forgetting the hit he’d taken to his face, and then winced at the pain. “Lewis was waiting for us on Campbell land. He asked that I return Deirdre. He said she was innocent of stealing Ewan.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “Nay. I sent two of my men instead. I doona know if he’ll speak to them.”

  He lifted his hand to rub his chest, trying to ease the tightness. “I couldnae go through with it. I couldnae separate Deirdre from Ewan—from our son.” His heart began to pound as he remembered his desperate run up the trail. “She…she went off on her own when we stopped. I’d already decided to turn around, but I hadn’t told her yet. She was devastated, grieving, and the guards hung back to give her some privacy, but they left her in a clearing with a cliff on one side. I thought…”

  Kerr’s eyes widened. “Did she—”

  “Nay! But when I first got there and glanced around the glade, I didn’t see her. I was peering over the edge, looking for her body on the rocks below, when she called my name. She’d been on the other side of the clearing. I couldnae believe it, I was so happy to see her. While I was trying to find words to speak, she began begging to stay with Ewan. She offered to sacrifice everything for him—her name, her position as lady and as his mother, just to stay near him.”

  “You didn’t agree to that.”

  He shook his head. “She will live with us as Deirdre MacIntyre and raise Ewan as long as I can keep them together—a lif
etime, hopefully.” He clenched his hand in a fist and struck the middle of his chest, shame washing through him in waves. “While I was wallowing in my anger and need for vengeance, she was planning to give up everything. I almost destroyed the person my son loves most in the world because I refused to let go of past hurts.”

  Kerr reached across and squeezed his shoulder. “But you’ve done so now.”

  “Aye. Ewan is our son. We’ll raise him together as his mother and father. And hopefully, she’ll teach me how to be a better man in the process.”

  “You already know that, Gavin. You’ve just forgotten.”

  He let out a long puff of air. “I hope so. And in the meantime, we’ll continue to prepare for war. I still need the truth as to why Ewan was taken in the first place and by whom. It could be as simple as a small boy wandering off at the wrong time, but if there’s more to it than that, we need to know.”

  “Gregor and the lads will be here soon. They may have more information from their spies in other keeps. Do you remember any mention of the MacIntyres or MacColls in the information we already have?”

  Gavin knew Kerr referred to the parchments Callum’s wife, Maggie, had given them at the end of summer last year—detailed notes that she’d taken through several months of spying on her cousin Irvin Sinclair. They all believed a conspiracy existed, targeting their six clans, but they didn’t know who was leading it. “Nay, there’s no mention of them. I reread the papers last night. But if Ewan was targeted to keep me doing someone’s bidding, we need to make sure all our loved ones are kept safe.”

  “Aye.” Kerr tapped his fingers against his leg. “What I doona understand is why they put Ewan in Lewis’s keep where we could easily find him. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe we should head out to speak to Lewis in the morning anyway. He may have some answers.”

  “Nay, he will have moved on, and we doona have his messenger to show us the route. All I know is he was holed up in a shepherd’s hut on Campbell land half a day’s ride away. That could be anywhere. We’ll wait for my men to return and then decide what to do.”

  Kerr rose, wincing at the movement, making Gavin wish he’d avoided his face after all. “Aye, you’re right. And we doona want to be caught out with too few men when war is upon us.”

  “Agreed,” Gavin said. He watched as his brother yawned and then winced again. “Are you heading to bed?”

  “Eventually. I want to check on Isobel and Deirdre first. You should try and sleep too. You may have an easier time of it now that you’ve made the right decision about Deirdre.”

  He was halfway to the stairs when Gavin stopped him. “Kerr.”

  His foster brother turned. “Aye.”

  Gavin had to clear his throat before speaking. “Thank you. You ne’er once doubted me these past few years when I insisted Ewan was alive. And you stood by me when I drank too much and cursed the world and everyone in it. When I was…cruel…and ne’er smiled for months on end. You have my gratitude and my love. As a friend and a brother.”

  “You make me sound like a bloody saint! Saint Kerr. Tell your sister that and insist she marry me right away. I think she’ll dry up and blow away all alone just to spite us both.”

  * * *

  Deirdre lay on her bed, her mind whirling over the events of the day. She still couldn’t believe that they’d turned around and Gavin had brought her back to Ewan—to stay at Clan MacKinnon as long as she wanted.

  She’d raced to the nursery upon their return, hoping her son might still be awake, but he was fast asleep. Isobel had hung back by the door and Annag had quietly retreated to give Deirdre time alone with him.

  Crawling up on the bed, she’d covered his face with kisses and whispered words of love to him. She’d tried to stay strong, to swallow her sobs, but they’d shuddered past her lips anyway. Ewan had turned sleepily toward her, wrapping his arms around her neck.

  She would never go back. Even if her family, and her husband’s family, demanded her return, she and Ewan were safe here.

  Gavin had promised.

  She turned over on her own bed and dragged the covers across her shoulder. Relief and gratitude poured through her, but guilt rose as well. The idea that she’d be the cause of a war among the clans left her stomach in knots, although the fight with the MacIntyres was most likely inevitable whether she was involved or not. Not that she thought Lewis was guilty of abducting Ewan, but his father was a controlling, frightening man. Deirdre would not be at all surprised to find out he’d been part of the kidnapping.

  When she thought about what might have happened to Ewan during that ordeal—how closely he’d come to dying from the plague or the mistreatment he might have received from his kidnappers—she couldn’t help shuddering. She remembered how dirty he’d been when Lewis had first brought him to her, how thin his body, and how terrifying his nightmares.

  It put his fear of the dark and being left alone at night into a whole new perspective. What had made him so afraid?

  It was all too much for her to think about when she couldn’t change any of it. All she could do now was concentrate on caring for her son and healing him with love and hugs. And maybe healing his father too? Aye, she found herself wanting to take care of Gavin no matter what had gone on before between them. What woman wouldn’t want to? He was a braw man—a strong, fair leader, with a powerful body and handsome face. He might look hard and unforgiving at times, but she’d also seen him laughing with Kerr and overcome with emotion to see his son alive.

  To see her alive.

  That thought also sent a shudder through her. For a few seconds before she’d called out his name, Gavin had believed she’d jumped from the cliff—and he’d been devastated. She had mattered to him.

  Then on the ride back to the keep, he’d pulled her tight against his body and between his legs. She’d felt the occasional tremor running through his muscles, the pounding of his heart against her back as if he relived those moments when he’d thought she’d died.

  It was a wondrous realization that after all they’d been through, he cared about what happened to her.

  She turned over on her other side and fluffed up the pillow. She should have been asleep by now. She was exhausted, but she was also wound up, feeling restless and needy. Alone.

  Even though she was back with her son, had been loudly claimed as cousin by Kerr, had a new friend in Isobel—who made her laugh despite being a wee bit batty—and had been accepted by Gavin…despite her newfound family, she still wanted something…more. Something she couldn’t quite name.

  Her body pulsed, a deep ache in the center of her belly that she knew well—

  Desire. But also loneliness.

  She’d felt it as a girl, ignored and unloved by her parents and siblings, then as a young woman mostly forgotten by her husband and left childless.

  Until Ewan.

  Until he’d swept like a whirlwind into her days and sprawled across her bed like a growing weed at night.

  But some nights, like tonight, the ache couldn’t be assuaged. She wanted more than just her son in her arms—she also wanted his father.

  She huffed out a frustrated breath and threw back the quilt. The heat poured off her body despite the coolness of the room, the fires long since burned down to embers. It was usually around now that Ewan woke up and ran into her chamber.

  She closed her eyes and counted down, waiting for him to call out for her, waiting to see if Gavin would stop him along the way and take him back to the nursery. And would it be such a bad thing if he did? She was sure other fathers got up in the night and comforted their children so their mothers could sleep, although those parents were probably sleeping in the same bed. Naked, maybe, from loving each other earlier in the night. Or a bairn between them suckling at its mother’s breast.

  She sighed this time and let an image develop in her mind: she and Gavin under the quilt
s, facing each other as she nursed their child. Her breasts would be even bigger than they were now. Ripe and full. Would he like how they looked? How they felt?

  She pulled the quilt back up to her shoulders to cover herself and ran her hands over her breasts, cupping them through her linen shift. She felt the weight of them, heavy in her palms, felt their warmth and softness.

  The urge rose to touch herself further, but she resisted at first. That twinge of guilt always accompanied her need for release, for self-care and love. She breathed deeply, trying to move past the craving, but it didn’t help.

  With a breathy moan, she gave in and unfastened the tie at her neck, loosening her chemise. Closing her eyes, she slipped her hands under the soft material. Her nipples had hardened into protruding nubs. She trailed her fingers over them, imagining they were Gavin’s fingers, gentle but rough at the same time, causing heat to bloom in her belly…and lower.

  She stroked her breasts rhythmically, squeezing and pinching, pretending Gavin had moved their sleeping bairn to its cradle and returned to their bed. He stretched out over her body and wedged his hips between her welcoming legs, a slow burn in his eyes, a tender smile on his lips. The weight of his body pressed down on the apex of her thighs where she needed it most.

  Smothering her groan, she pulled her knees up and spread them. Slipping one hand down her quivering belly, she parted the damp curls that guarded her sex and stroked her fingers through the slick folds. If only they were his fingers circling and gliding, his mouth on her breasts, sucking and licking, even biting the soft, sensitive undersides.

  She neared release faster than ever before, picturing him rising over her body, lifting her hips with one big hand and pushing inside her. Her breath quickened, the image in her head so real—the two of them twined together, their breath mingling, their bodies undulating—that she would swear she felt his mouth crushing hers, his hands kneading her breasts, his hips rocking against her mound.

  Maybe making another bairn for her to love.

  Her hips jerked up to the rhythm of her fingers as her other hand strummed her nipples. Faster. Harder. She bit her lip and turned her head into the pillow to muffle her moans. She’d never reached the pinnacle this quickly and almost regretted how soon the waves swamped her, wanting to stay lost in her fantasy for a while longer.