The Devil in Plaid Page 14

  He was her husband, and like any true laird, he was father to their people.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The laird of the MacLeod had, indeed, brought home an army.

  Fiona gazed out across the great hall in wonder. MacDonnell warriors filled the trencher tables, sitting among the Làidir MacLeod and the MacLeod warriors from the Isles of Harris and Raasay. Smiling, she waved to her kinsmen. The evening would be perfect if only her father was present, but Gordon MacDonnell had stayed behind at Castle Creagan to safeguard his fortress against attack. Still, he had ridden out to meet Jamie with nearly two hundred warriors to aid their cause.

  “I wish my father could be here to see this,” she said to Jamie.

  “He had a glimpse of our clans together when our men gathered at Loch Ewe. I’m sure he won’t mind me telling ye that he shed a tear or two at the sight.”

  Fiona’s gaze darted across the room, following a pack of wee ones racing after Broden with wooden swords raised high. The tall, handsome warrior laughed as he jumped up on one of the tables, then skirted platters of roasted meat and good-natured diners to reach the other side. But the children were already waiting for him. He raised his hands in surrender, and the wee ones squealed with delight.

  Everywhere Fiona turned, people were laughing and toasting the day that had begun with tragedy but ended in gratitude. At one table near the front of the hall, she spied Esme and Abby. They both looked radiant with their hair unbound, skimming their waists in flaxen waves. Clearly, Fiona was not the only one who appreciated her maids’ beauty. Sebastian had his arm wrapped possessively around Esme’s waist while Thomas straddled the bench at Abby’s side and held her close. He wore a soft expression as he grazed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Fiona smiled when her maid blushed in response.

  “Love seems to be blossoming,” Fiona told Jamie.

  His gaze followed hers. “Aye, in fact, both Sebastian and Thomas made mention of their growing affection for yer maids on our journey to Loch Ewe.”

  Fiona smiled. “I am glad. They both seem like fine men.”

  Jamie nodded. “Thomas has proven himself a natural warrior. He works hard and is eager to please his captains. Sebastian has a keen mind. He will be a captain one day, but his true passion is for the land. If he had his way, he would trade his sword for the plow.”

  She raised her cup to Jamie. “To lives saved and love found.”

  He joined her, lifting his tankard of ale. “There could be no finer reasons to celebrate.” Then he motioned to the room. “Never did I dream this could be possible.”

  She laughed. “And to think, the same bustling merriment fills our courtyard and the land beyond the outer wall.”

  Jamie smiled. “I told ye I would bring home an army.”

  She leaned close. “More than anything, ‘tis yer homecoming that fills my heart with joy.”

  He shifted in his seat, turning to face her. “Thank ye for the selfless way ye aided my people today.”

  “They are my people now, too,” she said softly.

  He cupped her cheek. “Our people.” His eyes glinted with hope. “We will have our peace, Fiona. This I do not doubt.” He leaned closer, his face earnest. “Our children will know peace.”

  Fiona’s breath caught. She swallowed hard. “Our children,” she repeated, her heart hammering in her chest. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, causing the room to erupt into cheers.

  That night, Fiona stood in front of the hearth. Her heart raced but not from fear—it was need.

  It was hunger.

  Hunger for her husband. She wanted to be his, body and soul. She wanted to feel the heat of his hands on her skin, to feel the passion of his kiss. The last few nights alone in that empty bed had only fueled her desire. But how could she tell him that she was ready, ready to feel his touch, ready to be his? Dare she speak of her heart’s longing? Or mayhap, she could just leap—throw herself into his arms and boldly kiss him. It was within her rights, was it not? Or was it just the husband who could make demands of his wife’s body? She took a deep breath. Somehow, she would give herself to her husband that very night.

  ~ * ~

  Jamie paced outside his chamber door. He wanted his wife.

  Nay, he needed her.

  He hungered for her. Desire hardened his body, making his heart pound.

  But what if she wasn’t ready? What if she still feared his touch?

  He stopped pacing and faced the door. Once he brought her body to the heights of glorious passion, she would forget her fear.

  He threw the door open.

  She stood near the hearth but whirled to face him as he entered the room.

  Their eyes locked.

  “Fiona,” he blurted.

  “Jamie,” she gasped, stepping forward.

  Her skin was flushed. Her unbound black hair fell in waves over her shoulders, skimming her trim waist.

  “Fiona,” he groaned, drawing even closer.

  She reached for the ties at her shoulders and tugged. The fabric of her kirtle slipped down her sleek body and puddled at her feet. Her eyes smoldered, licking at his with flames of sweet desire.

  “I want ye to make me yers,” she rasped, opening her arms to him.

  He seized her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. His lips claimed hers, desperate, hungry. His hands explored her naked flesh. He caressed her soft curves, his hands coursing down her bare torso. Her skin was smooth and silky. He scooped her into his arms, his gaze devouring her round, luscious breasts. Nipples, pink and hard, made his mouth water. He licked his lips as he laid her on the bed. Climbing over her, his kiss started at her lips. Her mouth opened for his tongue. He stroked and teased, delighting in her gasps and how her tongue danced with his. Then he trailed his kiss down her neck.

  She groaned. He savored the sound. Her skin tasted so good, so sweet. He moved lower, drawing one of her taut, rosy nipples into his mouth. She arched her back.

  “Jamie,” she cried, her nails biting into his shoulders.

  He gently squeezed her firm breast, palming her nipple while he continued to suckle her other peak. His lips, trailed over her tender flesh. He caressed the curve of her waist, smoothing his hand down the flare of her hips. As he journeyed lower, tasting, licking, caressing, his tongue found her navel. Her hands raked through his hair. He trailed kisses down her stomach. Then he eased his hand between her thighs. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze.

  “Open for me,” he rasped. Her eyes were limpid slits of vulnerable desire. “Spread yer thighs.” She sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands flew to her face. She squeezed her thighs tight. But then her hands fell away.

  “I must leap,” she cried out and opened her legs, revealing her body to his gaze. He touched her honeyed warmth, his fingers gently grazing her sensitive nub, stroking, touching. She bucked her hips. He slipped one finger inside her, stoking the flames of her desire, plunging deeper and deeper. She was so tight, so hot.

  She gasped, her breaths quickened.

  “Oh, Jamie,” she cried.

  Fueled by her passionate response, he lowered his head between her thighs and breathed deep her rich scent.

  “Nay, Jamie, ye mustn’t.”

  “Oh, but I must,” he breathed.

  For so long, he had wanted to taste her. He circled his tongue, teasing the very heat of her. She cried out. He trailed his lips and tongue over her hot skin. Savoring, her sweet warmth. He slid his hand under her round buttocks and lifted her hips, plunging his tongue deep inside her. He tasted, teased, swirling his tongue, making her moan and gasp. Her hands reached down, weaving her fingers through his hair. She moved against him, her breath quickening, her hips bucking. She writhed beneath his tongue.

  “Jamie, please,” she cried, trembling, rising. “Oh, God! Oh, Jamie!” Reaching her climax, she shuddered again and again, her legs curling around him.

  “Oh Jamie,” she sighed.

  Never could Fiona have imagined s
uch sensations.

  Through half-closed lids, she watched him stand and remove his belt. His plaid dropped to the ground. Her eyes widened at the sight of his thick, hard length.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as he climbed onto the bed. He advanced toward her on his knees, like a predator hunting his prey. But she was his willing victim.

  She reached for him, wanting to feel his body, to touch and taste him in the same way he had her.

  His lips found hers. He kissed her long and hard. Then he shifted over her, covering her body. She had never felt so protected and so vulnerable at the same time.

  “Open yer legs for me again,” he rasped.

  This time, she needed no convincing. Closing her eyes, she spread wide, straining for his touch. The ache within her body rekindled. She felt his hard shaft against her. Slowly, he eased inside her. She winced as he stretched her, easing deeper and deeper, and then he plunged into her body, breaking her maidenhead. She cried out as pain shot through her.

  He held her close, his body taught and unmoving between her legs. Slowly, the pain faded. The tension in her body released.

  Holding his weight on his elbow, he looked at her with pained eyes.

  “I promised ye I would never hurt ye again.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ye make my body fly.” She moved against him. “I ache for ye. Make me fly again.”

  “He pulled out and thrust deep, again and again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting each of his thrusts with a passion all her own.

  Sweet torture filled her, building, cresting. She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. His own cry of pleasure mingled with hers.

  He held her close and gaze into her limpid blue eyes. “Now, I will never hurt ye again.”

  “Please,” she begged, smiling through her euphoric haze. “Please hurt me again.”

  He nibbled her ear, raking his teeth gently down her throat. “Ye asked for it.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Jamie paced the length of his solar. He had amassed an army, five hundred strong. Preparations were underway to march and lay siege to the MacKenzie stronghold, but a sudden realization presented questions for which he had no answers.

  “I waited for ye.”

  He turned toward the door. Smiling seductively, Fiona stepped into the room, a silk robe lightly hugging her curves. “And then I could bear yer absence no longer.”

  He expelled a breath and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, reaching out his hand to her. She crossed the room to stand in front of him. He pulled her close, resting his forehead just beneath the full curve of her breasts. Her arms came around him.

  “What is it?” she said softly. “What weighs on ye so heavily? And don’t tell me yesterday’s attack. I ken ye’ve something new on yer mind.”

  He looked up at her. “Ye’re very perceptive.”

  She lifted her shoulders, a sad smile curving her lips. “Like ye, my mother was lost to me when I was but ten. ‘Tis I who have watched my father pace his solar and listened to him talk out his concerns. I’ve a practiced eye. Ye can speak with me and count with every certitude on my discretion.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he scrubbed his hand over his face, but then he straightened. “Actually, my dear wife, ye, more than anyone else, might be able to inform my quandary.” He stood and walked past her, resting his forearm on the mantle above the hearth and stared into the flames.

  “We now have the numbers to march on Ranulf MacKenzie.” He turned to look at her. “But do I march on my enemy or are we preparing to attack innocents—victims of the same devil who’s laid waste to our lands and slaughtered our kin?” Fury coursed through him. “This Ranulf MacKenzie, who has usurped his brother’s throne, does he have the love of the clan or have his loyal men forced the people to submit? Ye’ve spent time in the MacKenzie keep. What is yer judgement?”

  Fiona sat down and pressed her lips in a grim line. At length, she said, “Donald MacKenzie was a good man as was his son. They valued peace. They were scholars not warriors. His captains were strong leaders, but they, too, were good men.” She slowly nodded her head. “I believe ye’re right to hesitate and think upon who the real enemy is.” She moved to his side. “The clan who welcomed me would not have supported the slaughter of women and children or the destruction of crops and stores. I can only believe they are under duress.”

  Jamie took her hand. “In my heart, I know this to be true, but I cannot spare their lives at the sacrifice of our own. The attacks will only continue. Ranulf targets our crops and stores and kills without discrimination to force our surrender. What choice do we have but to retaliate?”

  Fiona dropped his hand and furrowed her brow as she began pacing the room. Then she stopped and whirled to face him. “We need to get word to one of the captains.”

  Jamie shook his head. “If the clan truly objects to their new laird, it is unlikely that any of the former captains walk free.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “Ye do not suppose they’re all dead?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “’Tis impossible to say. At the least, I would imagine they’ve been imprisoned. In any case, the captains will be watched.”

  “Then we must seek out someone Ranulf would never expect.” Fiona’s eyes brightened. “There is a cottar on the very outskirts of MacKenzie territory. His name is Hamish, and he has a young son named Finn who is but two and ten. Theirs is the only home on that part of the coast. On a good day the waves tear at the shore, and when storms strike, Hamish’s peat roof often surrenders to the might of the wind. ‘Tis why no one else lives so close. But the fishing is fine. Late every afternoon, Finn rides to the keep and brings the cook a fresh basket of fish as rent. If we could get word to them, mayhap Finn could deliver a message. No one would suspect a mere lad.”

  Jamie saw merit in her plan, but it was still incomplete. “But what message would we convey? How do we proceed?”

  Fiona took to pacing again. But after only a few moments, she stopped. “What if we united with Clan MacKenzie? If they were to open their gates to our number, then, together, we could defeat Ranulf.”

  He held out his hands to restrain her enthusiasm. “The spirit of yer idea is sound, but there are too many unknowns. How will we know if Finn is successful in conveying the message? And how will we know if an accord is struck? I cannot send my men into a trap.”

  “Mayhap, there could be a signal,” she suggested. “Three torches could be lit on the parapet of the front battlements—one for each of our clans coming together to rid our lands of this wretch.”

  Jamie was quiet as he considered her proposal, but then he shook his head. “Even if we saw such a signal, how would we know ‘tis real? If the MacKenzie were to get wind of our plan, he could use it against us. The torches might be lit, but still a trap could be set.”

  She squeezed his hands, drawing him close. “Ye’re right to be cautious, but I believe we can do this. Ye’ve amassed an army to fight our enemy, and we have a responsibility to our people to act justly. We cannot ask our warriors to kill if the lives they steal are innocent. Our message will let the people of the MacKenzie know we are on their side. We fight for our freedom and for theirs. They can open the gates, uniting our forces. ‘Tis a sound plan,” she insisted. “Fetch the council. Put it to yer captains and the elders.”

  He did not answer straight away. His gaze dropped to the dancing flames in the hearth.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Something else worries ye.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “Again, ye’re correct.” He cleared his throat. “I am still troubled by the attack we endured in the woods on our journey from yer home.”

  “I ken why,” she said gently. “Grant and Niall’s deaths weigh on yer heart, and ye hesitate putting more of yer men at risk.”

  He turned and looked at her. “’Tis true that my heart is still heavy, and I am always hesitant putting my men at risk, but, na
y, that is not why I’m troubled.” He stared once more at the flames. Then he jerked around. “How could Ranulf MacKenzie have known to expect us on the Hidden Pass? They were waiting for us. They knew we would be there.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ye think we were betrayed.”

  He nodded grimly.

  “What has Matthew said on this matter?” she asked.

  Jamie lifted his shoulders. “He thinks I worry for naught. He believes it much more likely that scouts spotted us, then circled ahead to cut us off.”

  She blew out a long breath. “Matthew’s thoughts are reasonable, especially in light of what ye’re suggesting. Forgive me, Jamie, but I cannot believe that one of our own has turned traitor.”

  “I feel the same, and yet I cannot shake this feeling. Ye ken now why I hesitate to bring this plan to the council. I pray to God I’m wrong, but if I’m right, we have to be careful.”

  She stood tall, her shoulders pushed back. “No matter. We do not need to involve the council. I will take the message.”

  Jamie stiffened. “Absolutely not!”

  “Just hear me out,” she said. “Hamish knows me. He will trust our plan if it comes from me.”

  “Ye cannot expect me to allow ye to do this.”

  “Matthew and Alasdair can accompany me. Their trust is assured.”

  Jamie shook his head at her. “I’ve said nay, and I meant nay.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “Ye must put the good of our clans first. I am the logical choice to go. We will take every precaution. Alasdair and Matthew will ensure my safety. We only go but to the outskirts of their territory. If ye send a warrior from one of our clans, Hamish is liable to flee or, at the very least, he’ll be suspicious. But if they see me and can hear our plan from my lips, they will know we are forthright.”

  “I will not allow this,” he snapped. Then he threw his hands up. “I will go.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “Ye cannot leave an army without its leader. Hundreds of men camp out in our baily and the grounds beyond. They have come here under yer command. I am yer wife, but first and foremost, like ye, I am lady to our people.” She took his hands in hers. “I can do this, Jamie. Please do not underestimate me.”