Page 18 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

H e seemed to sway a moment, then he bent his head just as she raised herself on tiptoe so that their lips could come together.

The kissing started soft as a cobweb. His lips alighted on hers like a butterfly.

A sound like a moan issued from deep in his throat, and he teased her with his exploring tongue. He tasted sweet, of honeyed-mead, and she allowed herself to relish the flavor of him for a moment, before she tentatively touched his tongue with hers, turning the kiss from soft to something else. It was still gentle, but there was a fierceness now. She could feel the leashed passion they both shared. She was assailed by a sudden hunger that made her seek his lips almost in desperation.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his half-open shirt, tracing the smattering of coarse hairs across his chest. He moaned again and cupped her chin, looking deep into her eyes with his indigo-dark gaze. She parted her lips and he took her with his mouth, his tongue thrusting deeper as she clung to him, every part of her burning and seething as the fire inside her ignited.

So this is how it feels . Like the world has turned upside down.

Everything around them was suddenly shrouded in a dim light, as if all the light was being drawn toward her and Everard.

Mildred’s words rang like an alarm bell in her head for the briefest moment, but she pushed them away. If this was the road to ruin trod by so many lasses before her, her feet floated on the path, surrendering to the onrush of desire that was sweeping her away.

The words ‘ruin’ and ‘heartbreak’ formed in her head for a moment, until they too were lost to her as the laird wound his arms around her waist. She reached up with tentative fingers and tangled them in his long hair, leaning in, feeling his heart pounding in his chest in unison with hers.

There was danger, but she was already surrendering to it.

“Me laird.”

As if it came from some great distance away, the voice slowly fell on Davina’s ears. She jolted her lips away from Everard’s and turned her head toward the sound. The Gockman Ranald was hastening down the steps at the end of the grass about to come barreling toward them.

She stepped back, hoping for the impossible, that he hadn’t seen their embrace. She hated the thought of setting tongues wagging in the castle. Mildred’s words of warning came rushing back. She had done the very thing she had tried to warn her of. Like some brainless, besotted lass, she’d fallen into the laird’s arms with scarcely a thought of what the consequences of her action might be.

Everard groaned, releasing her hand which he’d clutched as she’d stepped away from him.

Dunbar came puffing up, seeming oblivious to the fact he was interrupting a passionate embrace between them.

Shoving her hair back and tossing her head so that the wayward curls fell over her shoulders, she turned to face him. Her body still thrummed with the pleasure and the heated desire the kissing had aroused. A stinging wave of something like regret or, even sadness, rippled through her, leaving a hollowness in its wake.

She wished the kissing could have gone on forever. It was as if she’d been consumed by a golden light that had whisked her away to another place from where she wished to never return.

But, by the saints, here she was, chest heaving, her cheeks burning, on the practice green at Kiessimul Castle, falling deeply in love with the man she could never have.

Beside her, Everard snapped “What is it?” He too was adjusting his messed-up hair.

And there was a mysterious bulge in his britches. She’d felt that part of him pressed against her. She remembered the healer explain what happened to lads.

Fighting down her unseemly thoughts, she raised a hand to her mouth and bent to collect her basket and cloak from the large rock where she’d left them.

Dunbar doffed his cap. “Greetings again, Mistress Davina.”

She nodded, bobbed a curtsy. “And greetings tae ye Gockman Dunbar.” The man’s gaze bounced from her to a frowning Everard who was tucking his shirt into his britches.

“Apologies fer… disturbing ye, me laird, I was hoping tae catch ye before ye returned tae the castle.”

“Is it Ulric, has he taken a turn fer the worse?”

Dunbar shrugged, his eyes on Davina. “I dinnae ken, I’ve nay been tae see him.” He swung his attention to Everard. “’Tis yer braither, the Lord Maxwell and his lady, Aileen.”

Everard clicked his tongue impatiently. “What of me braither and his wife?”

The Gockman gave his head a little shake as if pulling his thoughts into line. “They’re tying their boat up at the mooring, as we speak.”

“God’s hooks,” Everard cursed. “They didnae send word they planned tae visit.”

“I’m afraid I cannae say why they are here. I thought ye were expecting their arrival.”

“Go then and tell them I’ll be with them shortly.” Everard waved his hand in the direction of the slipway. With that, Dunbar turned and beat a hasty retreat, heading back toward the stairs. Clearly, it had dawned on him that his presence there was less than welcome.

Everard took Davina’s hand and raised it to his lips for a gentle kiss. He lifted his head, his eyes roaming her face. All at once, she was shy again, uncomfortably aware of her surroundings, her feet having once again been firmly planted on solid earth.

“Please forgive me, Davina, I must leave ye. I wish it were nae so, but I fear there may be some pressing news. It is nae me braither’s practice tae simply arrive on our doorstep without warning.”

She shrugged her cloak around her, shivering. The sun’s warmth had vanished and brooding dark clouds were rolling in. Everard studied the sky for a moment.

“Mayhap we’ll see a storm this afternoon and Maxwell and Aileen will have tae spend the night at Kiessimul. Will ye dine wi’ us in the solar this evening?”

She bobbed her head, favoring him with a smile. “Aye. That would please me. I look forward tae seeing Aileen and yer braither.” Her voice held steady, which came as somewhat of a surprise.

He tucked her arm through his as they walked toward the stairs. “And dinnae forget tae bring the cat wi’ ye.”

Leaving him at the gate as he headed toward the slipway, she turned to walk across the courtyard to the infirmary, trying and failing wretchedly to erase their kiss from her jumble of thoughts. The feeling of his lips on hers would stay with her forever.

Broderick was there, with Feather. “Where have ye been lass, ‘tis nay like ye tae be gone and leave this one alone?”

There was a hint of admonishment in his tone, so she explained quickly that she’d spent the morning at the practice yard tending to Ulric’s ankle. Her cheeks were burning and she lowered her head to hide her blushing. How could she tell him about the archery contest? And never could she mention the kiss.

She put the basket down on the table and began removing what remained of the jars and the tisane. “We shall need more bandages. Ulric’s a big lad and I strapped his ankle all the way tae the knee fer support.”

Broderick nodded. “Mayhap Jacob will be at the fair when next ye attend and ye will purchase more.”

She was glad of the change in direction of Broderick’s thoughts. She could only imagine his disapproval if he was aware of her dalliance with the laird. Yet she could hardly wait till the evening when she would dine in the solar with Everard again.

The afternoon passed quickly. They were busy dealing with an assortment of cuts and bruises and sore heads and by the time the last of their patients had stepped outside and the door had closed behind them, their small store of supplies – salves and creams and tisanes – was sadly depleted.

Broderick stacked away the jars and bottles, dismay etched on his even features. “Tomorrow I shall have tae make new pastes and prepare tisanes but I have little tae work with. Mayhap ye could sail across the bay tae visit the village midwife and purchase more herbs and seeds. We cannae wait fer the tinker. I shall have tae make what I can, else we’ll nay be able tae provide healing remedies tae our folk.”

He placed the jar of murky water containing a tangle of leeches, on the shelf. “And even these wee creatures are in short supply. I shall have tae send the lad from the village out tae find more.”

Pulse racing, Davina listened to his talk. Could she dare another trip to the village? Without the laird’s company?

She breathed in deeply as the idea took hold. She must become brave enough to face the water without turning into a heap of quivering jelly.

“Aye, Broderick. I shall go across the bay in the morning.” She rubbed her damp hands on her skirt. If she could equal the laird with the bow and arrow, surely, she could learn to take a wee boat the short distance across the bay to the village.

They locked the infirmary door and bade each other goodnight. No sooner had Broderick slipped away to his quarters, leaving Davina and Feather to continue along the path to her cottage, than she spied Mildred hurrying along the path from the keep holding a gown slung over her arm. She waited for Mildred to catch up with her.

“I’ve brought this fer ye.” Mildred held out the gown. “Jonnet sewed the last stitch just now. It’s a right bonny gown and I had it in me head that as ye would be dining with the laird this evening, ye would enjoy it.”

She held the gown up for Davina to see. It was made of the finest, soft, forest-green woolen broadcloth. She’d purchased the length with Everard at the village fair. Its skirt was full, and the sleeves trailed long pointed cuffs. The neckline was much lower than she was used to, but Jonnet had sent a piece of fine lace that could be tucked in for modesty.

Davina inspected the dress and gratefully draped it across her arm. “It’s lovely, Mildred. Thank ye fer yer kind thoughts. I shall wear it tonight tae dine in the solar.”

Her heart jumping at the idea of seeing Everard again, she watched Mildred’s retreating back as the housekeeper returned to the keep. Despite her warnings, Mildred understood that Davina wanted to look her best.

With Feather perched on her shoulder and the bonny gown on her arm, Davina hummed to herself as she made her way along the path to her cottage. She undid the latch and walked into her little room softly singing a sweet tune.

“Lullay, lullay, la,” the words tumbled out. She loved the sensation of the words on her tongue, although she had no idea where they came from. How did she come to know this gentle lullaby? Had the mother she’d never known sometimes sung it over her cradle?

With the song still on her lips she lit several candles and stoked up her fire. Adding another log, she unwrapped some of the scraps Ailis had sent with Mildred and placed them in Feather’s little clay bowl. She laid it on the floor and Feather wasted no time in devouring the offering.

On the outer edges of her mind, there were always dark, indeterminate shadows lurking. But tonight, she refused to allow them to dampen her newfound sense of wellbeing and detract from the excitement pulsing through her.

Seated in her chair before the fire, drinking a concoction of chamomile, honey and lavender she savored every mouthful. The taste and feel of the laird’s lips on hers and the way he’d traced her tongue with his played over and over through her mind, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through her.

Breathing the peat-smoke of her fireplace, she caught the fleeting musky, sweaty man-scent of his body that had filled her nostrils as he’d held her. Dozing, she could almost feel the firm but gentle touch of his hand as he’d cupped her chin. Her sleepy mind reeled her once again into the depths of his dark gaze, seemingly reaching into her very soul.

Feather leaped onto her lap, jolting her to wakefulness.

What am I daeing, sitting here dreaming like the foolish lass I am? ‘Tis certain I wanted the laird’s kiss and it turned out tae be more than I’d ever dreamed.

She shook her head as if to dispel the unseemly thoughts .

And now I want it again.

Arising from her drowsy reverie, she took the jug of water on the table near the door and filled the large bowl beside it. After stripping naked, she took a rough cloth, soaked it and soaped up with the bar of rosewater-scented soap beside the bowl. She slowly washed herself all over, relishing the sensation of the coarse fabric sliding over her skin. Once she’d dried herself on the linen towels, she donned the same velvet robe she’d worn after she’d rid herself of mud, and settled down with the brush and ivory-toothed comb to fashion her hair.

After brushing it until it shone, she took the hair from around her face and plaited it into tiny braids, leaving wisps to float around her face. She wound the braids about her head, allowing the remainder of her auburn curls to flow free.

If only she had the ear bobs she craved from the market. She sighed. That would have to wait. Then she lifted the bonny new gown that Jonnet had finished only today, and carefully pulled it over her head. She fastened the ribbons tying the front of the bodice and tucked the lace along the neckline of the gown. Despite her best efforts, although it was more modest, the delicate lace did not provide a full covering and part of her rounded breasts were still visible.

Her throat constricted as she glimpsed herself in the looking glass. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were sparkling. Her lips seemed swollen in the shadowy light. Had the kissing changed her? Would they all be able to discern when they looked at her that she’d been with the laird? That he’d held her and thrust his tongue between her lips and that she’d reveled in it all?

After slipping on her leather boots, she flung on her cloak and fastened it. Then she woke the sleeping Feather and placed her, protesting, in her little rush basket.

After snuffing the candles, she walked out the door, closing the latch firmly behind her, and with a pounding heart, made her way along the path, heading toward the solar.

Holding her breath she rapped on the door.

Aileen’s voice called, “Enter.”

Davina opened the door and went in, expecting to see the laird and his brother before the fire, but it was only Aileen who greeted her.

“Come in, Davina.” Aileen rose and took both her hands. “I am so pleased ye can join us fer supper. I’m afraid the men are still in the laird’s study. They have much tae discuss.”

It was clear that Aileen did not intend to reveal what the important matter concerned, so Davina did not ask. She took off her cloak and draped it on the back of her chair, opened the lid of the basket so that Feather could jump out, and took her seat beside Aileen.

She did her best to hide her disappointment that the Everard had not yet graced them with his presence.