Authors: Allison Butler
Angel of Shadows.
The name given to Kenzie by people less fortunate, by those she helped. It suited her.
Now he thought on it, he wasn’t surprised she aided those in need. After hearing Ailsa speak so highly of her and then remembering Kenzie’s own words regarding Davina, it was obvious one of her fine qualities was that she cared for others—along with her determination and her stubborn will. But he also sensed a vulnerability about her. While she seemed wise concerning some things, she appeared an innocent in others. And the area he believed her to be most innocent in was the most important one.
Since he’d escorted his wife to the stable and kissed her, he’d noticed how she’d looked at him differently. Spoken to him more openly, despite peering at him with obvious confusion, as if she struggled to believe who he was and what he said. Exactly why she viewed him more favourably he had no clue, but he liked it. And he knew she wanted him.
Perhaps as much as he wanted her.
He’d almost taken her in the stall in his damp, odorous stable, and then come close to lying her down on the cold, hard flagstones in view of his entire clan. His bride only had to look at him with innocent wanting in the depths of her rich, brown eyes and he lost his mind, along with any hope of control. She’d gazed at him as if he alone held the secret to her most ardent desires. Pride had swelled in his chest while lust had sent heated blood to that selfish part of him cheering beneath his plaid.
Christ! He grabbed his wine and downed half the contents. The fact that she was his wife and he’d yet to stake his claim was the reason he craved her with a desperation he’d never known. Once he’d had her, tasted every delicious inch of her, buried himself deep inside her womanly heat …
He tilted his cup and drank the rest of his wine in one swallow.
Patience, man.
He was fast learning that patience was a quality he seriously needed, but sadly lacked.
Turning to Kenzie, he took one of her hands in his to ease his need to touch her. Colour suffused her cheeks, a sign he now associated with either distress or pleasure. The small smile she offered and the dark shimmer of her eyes told him this time it was the latter.
He wasn’t fool enough to question what had altered her opinion of him. He’d much prefer to reap the rewards. He would have her, but he wanted to savour every moment of her wakening desire. Wanted her anticipation to grow as high and be as constant as his. She would be his, but first he had something to tell her.
Leaning close, he looked into her eyes. ‘Douglas. Your sister’s husband’s name was Douglas Johnstone,’ he said quietly.
She looked at him and then her eyes rounded in comprehension. ‘Douglas.’ She tested the name. A line appeared between her shapely brows. She looked back to the trestle.
He gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t have told her.
‘Thank you.’ She looked at him. Her full lips curved in a gentle smile. Her eyes sparkling.
His jaw unclenched.
‘It was Lundy who told you, wasn’t it?’ Her head tipped to one side. ‘That’s what you left your game to speak to him about?’
‘Aye.’
She nodded. ‘I will need to thank him, also.’
‘Lundy was more than happy to face the elements rather than spend the day sitting idle.’
Her lashes lowered. ‘I know it seems foolish, more so because I didn’t know Douglas Johnstone. But knowing his name.’ She shrugged, her gaze lifted to his. ‘I just feel better knowing his name.’ She adjusted his grasp and gently squeezed his fingers. ‘Thank you.’
Warmth crowded his chest. Smothered his heart, slowed its beat. He pressed the heel of his hand over the spot and rubbed. He’d obviously downed his wine too quickly.
The next two days passed in a blur of giddy excitement mingled with blossoming contentment.
Kenzie spent every possible moment with Lachlan. She observed the many men honing their sword skills at practice each morning, but her gaze was drawn to Lachlan whether he was holding a blade or not.
The night he’d fought off the raiding Englishmen, she hadn’t seen him, but she’d felt and heard every move he’d made. His hand had held her securely to his mount, while the rest of him had battled to keep her safe. Now, seeing Lachlan in action left her overly warm and somewhat breathless.
He accompanied her to the stables every day and they lost track of time grooming the mounts, a task they both enjoyed immensely. The joyous fluttering in her belly had her believing sprites had taken up residence inside her. She’d never blushed so much in her life, had no hope of containing the rush of warmth to her cheeks when the cause rarely left her side. A look, a smile, a whisper-soft touch; she drank him in with her eyes until her face filled with heat.
When the season’s constant rain forced them indoors, they gathered in front of the giant hearth to keep the cold at bay. Kenzie approached the older woman she’d noticed instructing a young maid on sewing and she was soon casting stitches through the fabric of Lachlan’s torn tunic, chatting and smiling with the rest.
The roaring flames from the fire couldn’t compete with the hot blaze in the blue eyes staring at her each time she lifted her lashes. She’d stabbed her finger so many times it now looked as if it’d been used to store the needles they plied.
Lachlan offered to teach her how to play chess. But after being informed numerous times how she wasn’t allowed to move her pieces this way and that, or by this many squares, she’d upended the board in his lap. She’d stormed to the kitchens with the sound of Lachlan’s irritating, musical laughter following her the entire way. She’d taken her frustration and annoyance out on a fresh batch of dough.
She now sat beside Lachlan in the Great Hall, and once again, swirling anticipation for what might follow once they retired swept all other thoughts from her mind.
Last evening, he’d escorted her to the dimly lit landing outside their chamber, pulled her against him and kissed her so thoroughly she’d worried the flesh would melt from her bones. Of course, she worried only after the kiss had ended and Lachlan left her to prepare for bed. She’d washed and donned her nightgown and climbed into the enormous bed to wait for him to come.
He had, but he hadn’t kissed her or touched her again. He hadn’t even come close enough for her to lay a hand on him.
Her decision to simply be, to enjoy each moment, couldn’t last forever. The question of how much enjoyment she could allow herself was the cause of a tiny ache at the base of her neck. She knew there was more between breath-stealing, skin-melting kisses and the point of no return. She wanted to experience the between with Lachlan. She wanted to be seduced by her unwanted husband, without the obvious conclusion.
‘A kiss for your thoughts.’
‘Only one?’ she teased, and earned a mesmerising smile.
His hand settled on her back, tracing small circles with his thumb and fingers. Tiny shivers danced the length of her spine. Her back arched.
‘Are you seducing me?’ she whispered.
He shifted closer, thigh against thigh.
‘Am I succeeding?’ His wine-scented words brushed her cheek.
‘Your clansmen,’ she said, indicating the others in the room.
‘Our clansmen,’ he corrected.
The circles grew wider, higher. She swallowed. Never had she imagined how sensitive her back could be.
‘You’re wicked.’ Her lashes fluttered, closed.
‘I try.’ A smile echoed in his voice.
‘You must stop,’ she said as a toe-curling tremor rippled along every inch of her skin.
‘Do you want me to stop? You seem to be enjoying my touch.’
Heaven’s above. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Of course she didn’t want him to stop. She was enjoying his touch too much. But they weren’t alone.
‘Aye.’
His hand stilled, but stayed pressed against the small of her back, the only part of her where gooseflesh wasn’t erupting. She turned and found him watching her.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
‘Are you sure you’re ready to hear my thoughts?’ The silken timbre of his voice and the gleam of promise in his eyes sent a rush of warmth up her neck into her face.
‘I’m certain I will survive.’
One brow slowly lifted as if to say ‘Prepare yourself’. ‘I have been thinking about taking you for a ride.’
She sat up straighter in her chair. She hadn’t left Castle Redheugh grounds since she’d given her word she wouldn’t go alone. ‘Truly?’
‘Hmm. I’ve thought of little else.’
‘I’d have to borrow a horse.’ As she had before. ‘Or I can ride the poor old beast I came here with.’
‘Never fear. We’ll find you a younger beast to mount.’
Anticipation welled. ‘When?’
‘Tonight would suit.’
She frowned. ‘But it’s raining.’
‘Ah, so it is.’
‘Tomorrow then. If the rain stops overnight, we can ride all day.’ She leaned closer in her excitement and rested her hand on his rigid thigh.
Lachlan groaned.
She stiffened. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’
He covered her hand with his before she had a chance to remove it. ‘You didn’t hurt me, Kenzie. I like you touching me, just as you like me touching you.’
She stared into smoldering blue eyes. She did enjoy his touch, even when it became almost too much to bear. Could she really make him feel the same? She pressed her open hand against his thigh. His heat filled her palm. Always hot, never cold, as if he had an inner fire deep inside him. She’d tasted the flames of his kiss. She wanted to burn some more. Was her touch igniting the sparks flaring in his eyes? Did his every breath grow laboured because of her?
She molded her hand to his thigh and gently squeezed. The sparks brightened. He exhaled a shuddering breath. A surge of pleasure swept through her, gave her a sudden feeling of power.
Lachlan pried her hand loose and lifted it to his mouth. His lips brushed the backs of her fingers. His blazing eyes remained locked on hers. ‘You, my delightful bride, are full of surprises.’ He turned her hand over and licked the centre of her palm. A shiver tore up her arm. ‘And you taste delicious.’
Dear God. She was melting in her seat.
Cool air washed over her and chilled the sheen of perspiration coating her skin.
Lachlan’s gaze flickered past her and returned. ‘It seems I am needed.’ He lowered her hand and stood. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’ He walked away.
Despite her curiosity, Kenzie couldn’t have moved if her skirts were on fire. Her limbs hung loose, her body mush, a puddle of flesh and bone. Her mind was numb. She struggled to form a full thought. She’d never felt so wonderful.
Lachlan strode back into view. Her smile froze when she saw his frown. She sat forward on her seat. ‘What is it?’
‘There’s trouble at Irvine—’
‘Trouble?’
‘Lennox has sent for my assistance.’
She pushed to her feet. ‘I’ll go with you.’
‘You’ll remain here.’ His hands grasped her shoulders.
‘But—’
‘I don’t know what kind of trouble we’ll find. The messenger lacked any details.’ His grip tightened. ‘You must stay here.’
Disquiet underscored his soft command. She saw the concern clouding the blue depths of his eyes. Concern for her? Of course he’d be concerned. She was his wife. Her safety was his responsibility. He believed she belonged to him. But could his worry stem from more than his duty to protect what he saw as his?
A wisp of hope brushed her heart. ‘I’ll remain here.’
His fingers loosened, slid down her arms, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake. His frown eased. ‘I must go.’ He continued to hold her, with his hands and his eyes. Anticipation grew. ‘I must go.’ He released her arms.
She released the air lodged in her throat. Lachlan turned, and a dull heaviness stole into her chest as he strode away. Murdoch met him at the foot of the stairs and handed him his sword, dagger and mantle before accompanying him to the door. It was only natural to arm himself. Best to be prepared for whatever he should encounter.
With a final word to his steward, Lachlan glanced across the chamber to where she stood. She stared at him, silently asking him to be careful. Then he was gone. Her stomach clenched. She clasped her hands and pressed them to her middle. But the pressure did little to stop her insides churning.
All would be well. He was adept at swordplay, she’d witnessed his skill with her own eyes. Felt his strength and determination as he’d fought off English raiders. Anyone who dared to stand up to him would find themselves at the mercy of his might and power. He was more than able to take care of himself. There was no need to be fearful for him. She shouldn’t be concerned. She didn’t want to care.
Her nails bit into her palms.
A light touch on her arm drew her attention to Ailsa, who’d come to stand beside her. Her friend wore a frown as deep as her own. Kenzie unclenched her fingers and clutched Ailsa’s cold hand. She looked back to the hall’s entrance, where a score of men had gathered and were following their laird outside. Lundy’s flaming hair stood out among them. Duff, Cal and Dair crowded close behind. Good. Knowing Lachlan’s best swordsmen were with him eased her fears for him a little.
She squeezed the chilled fingers she held. Nigh a hundred people lingered in the large chamber, but without Lachlan’s presence, it seemed desolate. Or was it only her left feeling empty?
‘I’m to see you to your room and make sure you have all you need,’ Ailsa said, staring at the closed double doors.
She wasn’t alone in her fears. ‘You know I can manage well enough on my own. But if you’ve naught else you’d rather be doing, I’d appreciate your company.’
‘I’ve done my chores. I’ve nothing more to do.’
‘Then will you sit with me by the hearth for a while? You can tell me all the gossip you’ve learned in the kitchens.’
‘Like old times,’ Ailsa said, returning her strained smile.
‘Aye.’ Kenzie threw one more glance at the doors before she ushered her friend to a seat in front of the fire.
She answered Ailsa’s questions about the deliveries and passed on their thanks for her help. Then she listened to Ailsa’s nervous chatter about all she’d learned, but Kenzie couldn’t stop wondering what kind of trouble had come to Irvine. Had someone who’d had dealings with her father finally seen through his smooth, flowery speech and realised he spoke with a serpent’s tongue? It wouldn’t be the first time her father’s greed had put Irvine’s people at risk.