The Chieftain's Feud (6 page)

After that day in June when she left, he had waited for word frae Eve, or at least to hear news of at least one Buchan brother’s death—waited in vain. Aye, Eve’s father had misled both of them with the deception he had practiced on that hell-born morning at King Malcolm’s palace.

So many questions filled Jamie’s mind. Had she even told Buchan they were hand-fasted? How had she escaped without the Buchans ripping the child from her womb? To
her
father a half-Ruthven bairn would be an anathema. Eve was a brave lass; he would give her that. She had battled through one storm, but was she strong enough to weather the one to come?

Were they both stout enough to face the war of words, if not swords, awaiting them once she awoke? Chances were that her father might not be the only one with objections. Where Ruthven was concerned, Jamie’s months of keeping a closed mouth about Eve could come back to bite him. He had pretended to be over his infatuation, unwilling to let his father ken that he had let another lass make a fool of him, especially a Buchan lass. He hadnae wanted to see the disappointment on Ruthven’s face—aware his father had bundled up all his hopes for the clan and placed them on Jamie’s shoulders. That’s what happened when ye were an only son.

The bairn Eve carried, would it be a lad or lass?

As far as his father was concerned, the chance of it being a Ruthven heir might be his only saving grace. The thought filled Jamie’s mind like a supplication and, as if in answer, the bairn kicked hard enough to distract him.

Hard enough to awaken Eve, who at last lay snug and warm against him, the heat of both their bodies mingling. She stirred in his arms and his heart raced, pumping blood into his groin. Not wanting to frighten her he pulled back. Too late he heard her swift indrawn breath and hoped it wasn’t because of his state as she began shivering again. Murmuring in her sweet wee ear he attempted to reassure her, “Eve, can ye hear me? It’s me, Jamie. Ye were all but frozen to death after falling in the snow. Nae matter yer all right now, lass, and so is our bairn.”

A sharp breath left her lungs, a sigh of relief that he felt through his skin. “I made it, then? Ach, Jamie I was so scared I wouldnae find ye, but yer here. Here with me … and we’re both naked. How? What?” She quivered in his arms like a bowstring plucked and its arrow flown. “I dinnae see ye for months, and look at us, already you’ve dragged me into yer bed and probably had yer way with me without even a by-yer-leave.”

Jamie tensed. “Well now, this is a fine greeting for a man who’s saved yer life. And I didnae have my way with ye. It goes against the grain to make love to a corpse, and believe me ye were all but dead, frozen. But I can tell I have nae need to share my heat with ye any longer. Yer in fine fettle lass, gi’en me a flea in the ear for saving yer life,” he finished abruptly, holding her away frae him so she could see his face, see that he meant it.

Her lip quivered. “A-a-h, I remember now. I’m sorry, and yer right, I thought I would die out there within sight of Cragenlaw, but I was so cauld,” she shivered in his arms. “I could nae longer hold the reins. The last thing I remember was toppling off Mirabelles’ back into a drift and calling yer name, hoping…”

Jamie doubted the last part. Eve was inclined to make a performance out of everything. Even the way she had introduced herself had been a production. “My name is Eve,” she’d announced holding out the fruit in her hand. “Would you like a bite of my apple?” As if he were Adam.

Aye, and eventually he had taken that bite, but not straight away. Missing her dearly in the months after she had gone off with Buchan, not wanting stir up strife, he had in the beginning made excuses for her actions: when they met she was young, inexperienced, inviolate. She had been a virgin, and he had taken that frae her when she offered, unable to resist. But that was then. Now he had to discover what had sent her off on such a daft venture. “What was Buchan thinking of letting ye out without an escort?”

“He hasnae the least notion that I’ve gone, though mayhap he does by now. It was dark when I left but, in my favour, I thought I would be all right. It wasnae snowing when I left. I hadnae the slightest notion that the weather could change so suddenly. The stars were bright with nary a sign that snow would eventually fall out of a clear sky and drown me in flakes.” She halted the excuses tumbling frae her lips as if saying them fast would make them seem plausible and instead braced her hand on the pillow, propping her shoulder higher as she looked around the chamber. The candles guttered around the wicks, but the fire shone bright, gilding the walls in red-gold. “What hour of day is it?” she wanted to ken.

“Still night, but that’s not saying anything. Being the shortest day of the year, the sun doesnae rise till late in the day. But that is by-the-by, I’m more interested in how ye came to be here. Did Buchan threaten ye when he found out about the bairn?”

Her bottom lip took a beating frae her teeth. “Ach aye, the bairn. Well nae I wasnae threatened, my father isnae even aware of its existence, not yet. I had to leave when the time came that I could nae longer hide my secret beneath a plaid. There’s nae saying what he would do when he discovered the truth.” She paused, and he wasnae sure if it was just for effect, but what she said next stilled his heartbeat. “I heard my father and Hadron talking about yer family and the Farquhars of Dun Bhuird having a gathering with the McArthurs at Cragenlaw for Yule, and there were nae best pleased about it. Hadron would have it that you were making plans to gang against the Buchan clan. Father wasnae completely convinced, but Hadron always manages to talk him round. However, I decided this could be the perfect time to run away and find ye. I should have tried sooner, but I was always hoping that one day ye would ride up to our Keep and rescue me.”

“And I was waiting for a messenger with news frae ye, and I’m sorry I did. Ye must have been terrified. My only excuse is I had nae way of discovering if ye still wanted to be my wife. A hand-fasting isnae as immutable as marriage, and that must be the first order of our day. To protect our bairn, we must be wed by a priest,” he told her in a low voice, almost a growl. He didnae want to scare her, but she had to realise how important it was to their future together.

“Ye have nae doubts about the bairn then?” In contrast to the noise he had made, her voice was quiet, hopeful. “Nae worries that the bairn wasnae yours?”

Without hesitation, Jamie answered, “Not for a moment. How could I mistrust you when I knew for certain you had eyes for nae other man frae the first time our glances met in the King’s great hall? And how could I forget the time I took your maidenhead? It was like a gift frae God, redemption for a man who was certainly nae better than he should be.”

“Whist Jamie, I dinnae like it when ye put yerself down.” Her hand cupped his cheek. “Ye were honest with me, told me of yer past and that wicked woman who seduced ye while ye were but a lad, before ye had enough years under yer belt to resist her wicked wiles,” Eve asserted, her belief in him shining frae her eyes.

He chuckled at her description; Eve could always make him laugh, though she wouldnae find much humour in him being accused of possessing a few wiles of his own. A trifle he disdained consideration, too caught up in the feel of her hands on his face and the discovery how much he had missed the way she liked to touch him, placing her hands on him even when they weren’t making love. Little touches that had helped to soothe his soul and the guilt he carried there. It pleased Jamie that she had absolved him of blame, however his conscience wasnae so easy swayed. His only defence was that before he met Eve, he hadnae seduced a virgin the way Brodwyn had him.

Now she was here with him, it was hard to remember he’d had doubts, qualms that he’d ne’er rid himself of the picture in his mind, the one of Eve walking away frae him escorted by her father and Hadron.

The act of leaving was easy; he had firsthand knowledge and all the regrets that accompanied the action. Staying was harder. Did she have the gumption to see it through? “I have but one question for ye Eve. Do ye still love me?”

Her big green eyes widened as she stared at him, made more limpid by the tears forming above her lower lid; disbelief drowned in her expression. The pink fullness of her bottom lip quivered and her breasts rose, grazing his chest. “I came all this way to find ye. I almost died.” Her tongue slipped between her teeth to dampen her lip as she sucked in a breath to add the clincher when he didnae respond, “I’m having yer bairn.”

Not quite the answer he had expected. How hard was it to say, ‘I love you?
’
“I never questioned yer word, or hinted that it wasnae my bairn acquit me of that.”

“Seems to me there is more accusations in this bed than there is love, Jamie Ruthven. However, I might ask the same question of the father of my bairn. Do ye love me?” Eve finished with a lift of her finely arched brows.

He should have expected that the clever little lamb would hit him with his own demand. “I should think ye could tell that without asking.” He flexed his hips till the head of his prick nudged her belly. “It’s not something I can hide nor intend to, I want you Eve … all the time.” Sliding his hand betwixt her arm and her breast, he brushed the tip of her breast with his thumb. Her response was immediate, her nipple tightened, hard as the bead of pink quartz it resembled.

“I ken ye want me as much as I crave the feel of ye inside me.” She reached betwixt them to touch him, a contact that contained as much pain as it did pleasure.

“Are ye sure of that Eve?” The way his larynx ground up the words as if in the pain wasnae imagined. “For I can assure ye, Eve, if I get started, wild horses willnae be able to part us.”

Eve released a wee sigh, feeling slightly safer than she had a moment ago. It mattered naught that he was acting cagey, substituting the word want for love. She kenned what men were like, she’d lived with three of them all her life, and if anybody was sweered to admit what they actually felt, it was a man. Sweet words of love and prose were the coin of minstrels. Real men showed their emotions with the slide of a steel blade, the way his friend Rob had. Jamie had told her all about that night—the night he had cut his ties with the woman who had bewitched him.

She slid her fingers down the hard length of his shaft, enjoying the heat against her palm. After falling frae Mirabelle’s back into the snow, she had discovered what it was like to feel her life’s blood freeze in her veins. Gradually, the air in her lungs appeared to solidify, making it hard to breathe, while all her warmth had shifted lower to concentrate in her womb, saving her bairn.

Aye, her journey had been rash, wild even, but it was all done to save her bairn and her bairn’s father frae the Buchans. She hadnae told Jamie all, frightened that if she did, he would feel the same disgust with her as she did with her family’s plans. For heaven’s sake it was Yuletide, a time for clan celebrations, not slaughter.

All she had intended was to reach Jamie and Cragenlaw afore her father and brothers. Her uncle Hadron despised Jamie, had told her so o’er and o’er while she listened, with her hand pressed against her belly. Hiding both under her plaid, she sought comfort frae the part of Jamie that lived inside her womb, counteracting his neglect with thoughts fashioned in dreams of what their life together could be.

Early on, as the first months passed without sight of Jamie, she had wondered what would happen if one day he arrived to rescue her. Later, she had prayed he never made the attempt, for any assault on the Buchan Keep could mean Jamie’s end, his death, at her family’s hands.

The feel of him in her hand swamped her with memories of how it had been between the two of them. She had had no other man yet could imagine naught so perfect as the feel of Jamie moving inside her. To her dismay, her questioning his love had almost spoiled her chance of discovering if Jamie’s lovemaking would always lift her to the heights of passion. “I’m sorry about earlier. That was fear talking, fear that you wouldnae want me back, had found someone else…” She let the question hidden in her words fade away.

Nervous that she had spoiled their reunion, Eve felt tempted to make a silly jest, but before the thought could take shape on her lips, Jamie’s hot breath scorched her ear in a rough growl of amazement that she could slur his honour. “I ne’er looked at another lass, ne’er thought of such a thing. Frae the moment we met, all other women are but a shadow of yer beauty in my eyes, the need you engender inside me is like a conflagration. To even imagine being with another lass would unman me, make such an event impossible. All that has filled my mind is your bonnie face, the touch of your lips and the feel of your body pulsing around my prick as you cleave to me. It hurts that you should believe me capable of other.”

He dipped his head till their foreheads met and his breaths, short and sweet as if in desperation, beaded like wee kisses against her lips. “I confess that my imagination hasn’t always been filled with sunshine, that a grey heaviness filled my mind every time I remembered you leaving, the way it did when my mother ne’er came back after promising me she would when I was a wee lad. I admit that I raged against fate for taking you away frae me. Ye have nae notion how I often contemplated killing yer father and brothers … and Hadron, ach what plans I had for him.”

Eve heard him out without any feelings of astonishment. He wanted to kill her father. He might have to before the day was out. More difficult to believe was his assertion that he hadnae looked at another lass frae the day she left. Eve always had her priorities in the right order and said simply, “My father is probably on his way here. By now he will have dragged my destination out of Gillian, my maid. She’s not strong enough to withstand him.”

She drew a breath of air that tasted of both her and Jamie and, filled with the need that shimmered between them, she made her confession. “It pains me to reveal that my father and clansmen would have arrived at the McArthur’s gate whether or not I was hiding here. It’s yer father and his friends he has a grudge against, and instead of lying here abed, we should be warning them of what foul deeds are about to happen.”