Page 23 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)
E sme paced Torrance’s bedchamber, wringing her hands in front of her nightdress. The hour had grown late, and still he hadn’t come. Not since he’d looked at her with fury in his eyes and warned, “You disobeyed me, wife, and you will answer for it.”
He’d ridden off with a handful of warriors soon after, scouring the woods for any sign of lingering enemies. They’d returned empty-handed, and the MacLeish warrior, his wounds tended to, had been released with Torrance’s message to Ryland.
But what message, truly?
Her thoughts circled back to that strange exchange between the two men. Something had passed between them. Something unsaid. Could it have been a coded message meant not just for Ryland, but for those who truly knew him?
She’d heard tales over the time she’d been at Clan Glencairn of Ryland and Torrance as lads, once close as brothers, always in competition. And more often than not, it was Ryland who bested Torrance. That part had always stood out to her.
And now, she wondered…
Had Ryland truly assumed Torrance’s identity? If so, why?
But even if the suspicion held weight, it was quickly tangled by the memory of his parting words. He’d spoken not as Ryland pretending to be Torrance, but as Torrance would. You disobeyed me, wife. That warning had not come from a stranger.
Now she waited, heart thudding, uncertain of what was to come, or who would walk through that door.
The latch clicked and the door creaked open.
Torrance filled the doorway. His eyes immediately settled on her.
She stood by the hearth, wringing her hands, her pacing halted the moment he entered. Worry etched her brow, and though she tried to appear composed, he saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath caught as their eyes met.
She was nervous as she should be.
He had come intending to scold her for disobeying him, for endangering herself. She had nearly been taken, nearly killed, because she’d chosen to disobey him and not return to the safety of the keep. If not for young Daniel…
His jaw tightened. The lad’s brave act had saved her life and that thought turned to another. How he felt when he saw that man’s arm around her neck. Her fragile neck. One wrong move and it could have ended. He could have lost her before he ever truly got to have her.
The memory of that fear hit him like a blade to the chest, cutting through his fury and pride and everything else he thought he was going to say.
The ache in his heart returned, sharp and unbearable.
He crossed the chamber in a heartbeat.
Esme barely had time to gasp before he reached her, his hand catching her waist and pulling her flush to him. She opened her mouth to speak, to explain, maybe to plead.
But he silenced her with his mouth. His lips found hers in a kiss that was not gentle, but not cruel either. It was fierce and raw, born of fear, relief, and something deeper neither of them dared to name.
And in that moment, Esme realized she no longer feared what he might say. What she feared… was how much this man—whoever he truly was—had come to mean to her.
He tore his mouth off hers. “You put fear in me, woman, when I see you in danger and I cannot have that.” He rested his brow to hers. “I cannot lose you. I will not lose you.”
His lips touched hers briefly, a faint brush, and then it was as if something broke, a barrier he had kept rooted in place that was never to be crossed.
He crossed it.
His intense kiss felt like he had claimed her, accepted her as his wife and she couldn’t help but feel at that moment that their hearts joined as one, locked together never to part. A strange sensation for sure since she believed Torrance didn’t have a heart. But was he Torrance?
His hand gripped her backside, giving it a squeeze and keeping her pressed firmly against him as he continued to kiss her. Urgent kisses. Gentle kisses. Possessive kisses. And with each kiss his manhood swelled against her.
Again, his lips left hers and he whispered harshly, “Bloody hell, I want you so badly.”
Esme wanted him just as badly, her body humming with passion and a relentless need.
She could easily allow her desire to rule, and possibly her heart, but there was much more at stake here.
She had to be cautious and ponder, with great difficulty, the consequences of her decision.
If he was Torrance and she coupled with him she would finally have a chance to get with child.
If it was Ryland she coupled with, she believed him to be an honorable man who would do right by her.
With that thought, her response came easier than she expected. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”
He stared at her as if trying to make up his mind. He raised his hand and ran his fingers faintly over her lips, shook his head, and his arms dropped away from her, then he walked toward the door.
She felt a jab to her heart and anger rose in her as well. How often had he walked away from her, blamed her, made her feel a failure.
The words sprang from her mouth. “Do I disgust you that much that you refuse to plant your seed in me?”
“Watch your tongue with me, woman,” he warned with a growl, reaching the door.
She felt as if she was pushed over the edge, falling, and feared where she would land. With nothing to lose, she called out, “I am not at fault in this marriage. Your manhood is the culprit. Whether limp or hard your shaft is useless!”
He turned, a fierce rage glowing in his green eyes and it took only a few strides to reach her even though she backed away from him in fright.
“Let’s find out how useless it is,” he challenged and scooped her up to carry to the bed and drop her down on it.
Her unexpected courage began to fail her.
She had been in a battle with Torrance since the day they wed, and she was exhausted from the fight.
She wanted it done and over no matter the consequences and if he was Ryland, he would be the one who would need to explain.
She spread her legs ready to do her duty.
Torrance dropped down over her, pushed his plaid out of the way and positioned himself between her legs, his shaft hard, its tip resting just a bit inside her when he looked into her eyes. Her strength was waning, her fear growing, and surrender uncertain.
He wasn’t looking for surrender.
“I’ll not have it like this,” he snapped.
Where she got the courage, she didn’t know but she swung her hips up so hard that it drove his shaft into her in one deep plunge. She cried out as pain radiated through her.
“Esme!” Torrance cried out, seeing her lovely face cringe in pain.
“It is finally done,” she said, then bit at her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the discomfort.
“It is far from done, wife,” Torrance said, feeling the pain he saw in her eyes.
“Then finish it,” she urged, “and you will need to touch me no more.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said and began to move slowly in her.
At first, she felt discomfort, then it slowly faded, replaced by a lovely sensation like she had felt when she rested on his lap in her solar. And like then, it began to grow in pleasure and soon all pain was forgotten and all she could think about was how wonderful he felt inside her.”
“Does it hurt, Esme?”
“Nay. It feels quite pleasurable.” She shut her eyes and allowed herself to drift off in a haze of passion. And as his thrust took on a more forceful tempo her pleasure grew and she found herself instinctively responding, raising her hips to meet his rhythm.
Her moans came unbidden, natural, and felt so right, so good that she didn’t want it to end, didn’t want it to be the last time she felt such an exhilarating sensation that continued to build.
She was sure she would burst or come to the end of her fall, and she did in the most explosive way, screaming out in pleasure she would not believe existed if she hadn’t felt it herself.
And she found she took even more pleasure in seeing, hearing, Torrance do the same.
Torrance collapsed on her for a moment and whispered in her ear, “Now that you captured me between your legs, I intend to rest there often.” He raised his head, his eyes catching hers. “You are mine and nothing will change that.”
He said that so often to her that she wondered if he was trying to convince himself of it and not her.
He rolled off her onto his back and laid there silent for a few moments. Then he got off the bed and as he walked to the door, he said, “Sleep. We leave early in the morning.” And with that he walked out of the room.
Esme stared at the door. She hadn’t known what to expect afterwards when it was finally done, their vows sealed.
She expected relief but instead got confusion.
She simply did not know what to make of her husband.
One moment, he seemed like Torrance and the next he felt like a stranger.
One moment he showed concern, the next indifference.
At least her duty as a wife was done, though according to Torrance it would not be the last time they coupled. That she actually enjoyed coupling with him made her think he couldn’t be Torrance. She could never have enjoyed such pleasure with Torrance.
She shook her head. She would drive herself insane if she continued this guessing game. She needed to observe, pay close attention, and once and for all find out the truth.
A thought struck her. Not once upon entering the room had he called her wife.
Torrance sat in the Great Hall at a table in front of the hearth that was burning bright, having just been fed for the night.
Intimacy with Esme had not been part of the plan and yet he worried that it would be the most difficult part of the plan, to ignore her, resist her.
That was something that had gotten more difficult to do.
He scrubbed his hand over his face, annoyed with himself. He shouldn’t have coupled with her. It was not the way he meant it to be. What way had he meant it? She was the thorn in his side that dug deeper and deeper into him just as he feared she would.
That thorn would forever jab at him if he refused to admit the truth… he loved her. And that was not going to change. He had loved her from the first moment he laid eyes on her and he would never stop loving her.
How to resolve this he had no idea, but one thing was for sure… she belonged to him now and he would never let her go.
He heard the footfalls that moved quietly into the room and said, “What brings you here so late, Brack?”
“My duty, my lord,” Brack said, stopping in front of the table. “I wanted to make sure the keep had no unwanted nightly visitors after today’s incident. But what brings you here? You should be?—”
“Do not remind me again of my duties to produce an heir. It has been seen to and news will not be long off,” Torrance said, realizing there now was a chance that she could be with child and if not now soon enough since he had every intention of resting between her legs again…
only the next time would be far different from tonight.
“I am glad to hear that it goes well, my lord, and your wife has finally learned how to please you.”
He wanted to lash out at Brack, defend Esme, but that wouldn’t be wise, instead he asked, “Is all ready for tomorrow?”
Brack nodded. “Aye. The first troop will leave at dawn to ride ahead and clear the way. Another will trail behind to make certain no one dares follow. And ten of your finest warriors will remain close, guarding you and Lady Esme at all times.”
Torrance gave a curt nod, though his jaw remained clenched.
Brack studied him for a moment. “What do you expect to find when you get there?” he asked. “And what do you hope to accomplish?”
Torrance didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting off as if he needed to give it thought.
“I expect truths,” he said finally, his voice low. “And I hope they don’t come at too high a cost.”
Brack raised a brow. “Truths that change what?”
Torrance’s gaze returned to Brack. “Everything… or nothing at all. I’ll not know until I stand on that ground.” He paused, then added more solemnly, “But whatever waits, I’ll see it through—with Esme beside me.”
Brack gave a short nod, not pressing further, though a shadow of concern lingered in his eyes. “You should sleep, my lord. You have a long ride ahead of you in the morning.”
“You worry too much about me, Brack.”
“I take my duty seriously, my lord, and always will.”
“I expect nothing less of you, Brack,” he said and turned to face the hearth, stretching his long legs out for the fire to warm them.
“Sleep well, my lord,” Brack said and with a bob of his head walked toward the door, a figure slipping out of the shadows to grab Brack’s hand and hurry out with him.
Torrance lingered a while longer, reluctant to return to his bedchamber, to Esme, but with the journey looming tomorrow, he knew he needed to sleep and be prepared. He finally stood and made his way upstairs.
He eased the door open so as not to disturb her if she slept and to his relief found her asleep.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk about tonight, if they discussed it at all.
He had allowed his frustration and anger to rule, and the night had not gone as planned. The next time would be different.
He slipped out of his garments and into bed beside her and she turned in her sleep to rest against him as had been her way of late. He wrapped himself around her as had been his way of late and the one thing he intended to change about that was to have her in his arms naked.
With a soft smile on his face, he fell asleep.