Page 25 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

D avina enjoyed supper in the solar even though Everard seemed preoccupied and paid little attention to the light chatter between herself, Aileen and Maxwell. They had discussed the new garden being constructed at their grand, house, and she was happy to be able to offer her knowledge of gardening and plants.

She regarded Everard curiously. He gazed into the fire as if his mind was in some distant place. No doubt he was preoccupied with the coming meeting of the Clan Council. He’d said little, only that it was necessary to let them know what had taken place when her father had kidnapped her. When she’d protested, fearing their condemnation, he explained that the Council needed to be aware of any hostile action within the Clan lands.

“Ye’ve naught tae fear, me sweet. ‘Tis Murchadh MacKinnon that will earn their condemnation.

She accepted this warily. He still appeared unduly fash’d about the meeting scheduled for the morrow.

Aileen caught her attention. “I cannae help but admire yer earbobs, Davina”.

Davina smiled. Warming to a compliment came more easily these days. “Thank ye, Aileen, they are, indeed, beautiful.”

Not only had she purchased the carved ivory pair that had first taken her fancy, but she’d also chosen a pair made of lapis in a deep, crystalline blue that matched her kirtle. She glanced at Everard, hoping he’d noticed. Alas, he was focused again on the leaping flames in the fireplace, lost in thought.

It was not long before Maxwell drew the evening to a close. “I am ready fer me bed.” He cast Aileen a meaningful glance that brought a flush to her cheeks. “Tomorrow we’ll need our wits about us tae deal with the Council, Braither. Methinks we’ll find them reluctant tae co-operate, as they’ll be nursing resentment at being called fer another meeting so soon.”

Everard nodded his acknowledgment.

“I’ll meet wi’ ye early in the morrow before the meeting. I have much tae discuss wi’ ye.”

Davina rose to her feet as Maxwell and Aileen departed.

“’Tis time I also was abed, me laird.” She gathered the sleeping Feather from her lap and placed herin her basket.

Everard’s attention turned to her.

“Forgive me fer appearing a little distracted this evening, Mistress Davina. I’m afeared I’ve been giving too much thought tae the Council meeting. Will ye permit me tae escort ye tae yer cottage?” He looked at her with dark eyes. “I wish tae make certain of yer safety.”

Offering a shy smile, she nodded. This was the first chance for them to be alone since he’d walked with her to the cottage the previous night.

Although she’d glowed with excitement at being able to purchase a few delights at the market, thoughts of their kissing and way he’d held her, his hands stroking her to rapture, had stayed with her all day.

Would he kiss her? At the very thought of it, she fizzed with anticipation. Ripples of sweet, crazed, pleasure began coursing through her, stealing her breath and causing her cheeks to burn like the flames in the fire. All she could think of was losing herself in his arms again.

The courtyard was bright with moonlight as they strolled along the path, Everard holding Feather’s basket while his other arm encircled Davina’s waist.

“’Tis a bonny night,” Davina said, the slight breeze tossing the curls about her face.

Everard brought them to a halt, drawing her close. “Nay as bonny as ye, lass.” He smoothed away the wayward tress. His finger trailed down her cheek, along her jaw, chasing the arch of her throat as she turned her face up to him. “I’ve won nae wager this day, but may I claim a kiss all the same?”

She laughed softly. She could see his smile, but the rest of his face was lost to shadow. “Me laird, ye dinnae need tae win a wager tae claim a kiss from me. ‘Tis freely given.”

He grunted, as if pleased by her answer. “The thought of kissing ye has been taunting me thoughts all day.”

“Even as ye went about yer business?”

“Ah.” He sighed. “Most of all, as I went about me business.”

He placed Feather’s basket on the path, and with a muffled moan, he folded her into his arms, lowering his head to take her lips.

As his mouth took hers and their tongues joined in a fierce tangle, she lost herself, his smoky, salty, scent filling her nostrils, the taste of whisky on his tongue. She cared not that whoever cared to look toward the courtyard would see them entwined in their passion.

She had wished to feel his hard chest crushing her breasts, his heart pounding in time with hers, the rasp of his beard on her soft cheeks. She seized his shirt in her hands, dragging him even closer. His deep-throated growl was all it took for her to wind her arms about his neck and plunge her fingers into his hair.

She pressed her wanton thighs against his hardened rod, mindless, demanding, wanting more of him. Throbbing with need, she was swept her away to that other world of bliss hanging on the edges of her being.

He was everything.

His hands roamed her body, causing little moans to spring from her throat. He took her buttocks in his hands, urging her hips against him. His shaft met her core between her thighs igniting the heat there into a raging fire.

Her kirtle was above her knee, his hand sliding over her thigh. She thrust her hips to meet his hand, and he slipped his fingers between her thighs, into the swollen wetness there.

He groaned. “I want ye lass, more than ye ken.”

Lowering his head again, his kiss was fierce, demanding, and she returned it, submitting to the maddening sensations that threatened to take her even higher, whimpering her surrender.

As if it took all his strength, he groaned, jolting his head away. “Nay here. Nay like this.”

Melting against him she stifled a cry. She would beg. Plead. “Dinnae stop now,” she gritted.

He bent his head, drawing in a ragged breath. “Ye’re me lady, Davina. Ye deserve more than tae be taken naked on a moonlit pathway, where anyone passing can catch sight of ye.”

She groaned, only half aware, even now, of their surroundings. At her feet came a full-throated ‘meow’ plunging her back to the reality of the castle and the growing chill in the air.

“Oh. Feather. I had forgotten ye.” She slapped a remorseful hand to her mouth, shaking herself to dissolve the voluptuous wantonness that excluded her from any sensible, plain thinking as she luxuriated in Everard’s embrace, tasting his kisses.

He stooped to collect Feather’s basket. “Apologies fer keeping ye out so late, wee moggie.”

Taking Davina’s elbow, he guided her along the path to the door of her cottage.

Once she had opened the door, he lowered the basket and Feather immediately scrambled out. They watched as she raced to her bowl to lap some water and then took herself to Davina’s bed where she quickly settled.

He laughed. “She’s none the worse fer being kept late in the cold.” Davina chuckled softly beside him and he turned to her. “And ye, are ye none the worse fer me bold invasion?

The breath hitched in her throat as she shook her head. Raising her eyes, she glimpsed his face in the moonlight that had followed them through the door. Never had there been such a look of tenderness in the gaze of one who met her eyes. She could have wept for joy.

A strange, altogether pleasant sensation bloomed in her chest, warming her heart, before spreading like honey through her veins. This feeling was nothing she’d experienced before, yet a part of her that she’d thought lost forever, recognized it at once.

What she felt was hope.

“Goodnight, Mistress Davina. I look forward tae seeing ye again on the morrow.” He took her hand and layered it with tiny kisses before turning on his heel. She watched as he walked briskly along the path until he merged with the moonlight and was gone. Her heart with him.

She rubbed her hands to warm them and stamped her feet on the cold stone floor, hurriedly changing from her kirtle into her night shift. After removing her earbobs, she placed them in the soft purse on the table. They were the most precious items she had ever owned. Treasured all the more as her mind flew back to the archery contest where she’d won the purse that enabled her to make the purchase.

Smiling, she pulled back the coverlets on her soft bed and wriggled in without disturbing Feather.

She made a note to herself that as soon as she found Aileen on her own, she would question her about what took place between a lass and a lad when they were making love. All she had gleaned, was what she’d heard from the giggling lasses in the convent. It seemed it was possible to do this thing with someone who was entirely unsuitable. One of the lasses had been caught with a gardener at her family castle. “I couldnae help meself,” was all she’d said.

Davina was beginning to understand what it might be like to surrender altogether to the wild passion she felt when she was in Everard’s arms. A tingling, prickling feeling rushed through her at the prospect of making love with him.

Whatever that involved.

She was in the infirmary with Broderick, not long after they had broken their fast, and the first rays of sunshine were blessing the courtyard with warmth when Mildred popped her head around the door.

“Broderick can ye release Davina? Mistress Aileen is asking tae see her in the solar and wishes tae spend the day wi’ her.”

The healer’s mouth turned down as he glanced at Davina who was grinding seeds with the mortar and pestle. “When she’s finished making the salve, I’d be happy tae release her.”

Mildred nodded and hurried off.

“Ye’re spending a great deal of time with Laird Everard and the family, Mistress Davina?”

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him looking at her intently.

“Aye, the Lady Aileen is very kind. As is Laird Everard.” Her cheeks were burning under his scrutiny but she refused to say more, Mildred’s words always there, behind her thoughts. She feared if her feelings for the laird were known, she’d be in danger of making a complete fool of herself.

She turned to Broderick. “D’ye nae approve of me keeping company wi’ them?”

Shaking his head, he looked at her kindly. “Of course, I approve. ‘Tis a fine thing tae be favored by the laird and his family. But…” He shook his head, as if to deny the words he’d just uttered. “Take good care of yer heart, lass. Dinnae lose it tae one so far above ye.”

He was echoing Mildred’s warning.

“Me heart will dae what it wills, Master Broderick.” She turned back to her task, grinding the seeds with more firmness of purpose than she’d had before, while her wayward heart was already beating faster at the prospect of seeing Everard again.

Once Broderick had seen fit to release her from her tasks, she returned to her cottage with Feather and changed from her old, worn kirtle into a new linen kirtle Jonnet had finished sewing only yesterday. It was undyed, the color of natural flax, but, when she glanced in the looking glass it seemed to her that set against the plainness, her hair seemed brighter and her cheeks rosier. She slid on her ivory earbobs, flung on her cloak, and with Feather’s basket, head across the courtyard.

The usually quiet place was bustling, several grey-hairs were striding along the path ahead of her, all of them clad in their great kilts and woolen jackets, accompanied by their ladies and squires, no doubt heading for the feasting hall, where the meeting was to be held. The kitchen had been busy that morning when they’d broken their fast, with Ailis, red-faced, swatting them to “be gone” the instant they’d taken their final mouthful of porridge.

She turned off the pathway and headed toward the solar, a room that stood apart from the main building. Aileen put down her embroidery hoop and greeted her as she walked in.

“I thank ye fer leaving yer tasks today, Davina. I am selfish, needing ye sweet company while Maxwell and Everard are busy with the Council meeting. We will join them and the others once the meeting is over.”

She gestured to the far corner of the room. “Everard has a surprise fer ye.”

Davina gasped. There stood the most beautiful clàrsach , gleaming, polished willow, its soundbox carved with long-stemmed roses. Her heart leaped. The harp had been the one pleasure allowed throughout all her years in the Priory, and then only in service of the nuns’ contemplation, never for her own enjoyment.

As she gazed at it, another memory slipped gently into her mind. She recalled her mother had playing such an instrument, and she, herself had learned to play from one of the other harpers in the castle.

She darted across to take up the instrument, her fingers drifting over the wires, her ears thrilling to the sound.

“Oh, Aileen, it’s lovely.”

Aileen walked over, smiling. “Och. ‘Tis a beautiful thing. Fit tae make the soul sing. I never learned tae play but I love tae listen. This belonged tae Everard’s and Maxwell’s maither and has ne’er been played since her passing. He had it taken tae Edinburgh tae be re-wired with copper and brass and was only returned last night. He kent ye played and wishes it tae be yers.”

Tears flowed down Davina’s cheeks. She could scarcely believe that such a lovely instrument could be hers. Surely a gift of such a treasure as this must have meant Everard cared for her. More than a little.

“Me fingers are thrumming tae pluck the wires. Would ye mind if I played some music fer ye, while ye stitched yer embroidery?”

Aileen clasped her in a firm hug. “I would love that, Davina.” She thrust a square of linen into her hand. “Now wipe away yer tears, bring yer clàrsach tae the hearth and entertain me with yer lilting tunes. ‘Twill be me delight.”

Davina took her seat by the fire, placing the clàrsach on her knee. For the next while, until the maids brought them a midday meal of cheese, bannocks and cold chicken, both Davina and Aileen were lost to the lilting music.

Davina rested the clàrsach , her heart beating in time with the soft rhythms her fingers had played. Now was the time to ask Aileen to reveal the mysteries of lovemaking.