The Hellion and the Highlander (6 page)

“I’ll fetch her maid,” Will said at once, hurrying from the room as Kade rushed back to Averill.

“You’re awake.”

Averill reluctantly reopened her eyes. She’d blinked them open a heartbeat ago, only to groan as candlelight attacked her, sending pain through
her head. This time was no better, and she moaned and closed them once more.

“Head paining you?” Bess asked.

Averill opened her mouth to answer but paused on a sigh of relief as a cold, damp cloth was laid over her eyes and forehead.

“Oh, Bessie, bless you,” she whispered, as the cool damp began to ease the drumming in her head.

“I have a tonic here when you think your stomach can stand it,” Bessie announced.

Averill grimaced at the very thought of consuming anything. On the other hand, it would be nice were her head not throbbing so. She would wait a few moments, she decided. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Bess answered abruptly. “Most of the castle has gone to bed.”

Averill bit her lip and then asked, “Am I in my own bed?”

A soft chuckle disturbed the air over her head, and Bess said, “Aye, though that Scot fussed about it. He wanted to look after you himself, and did for several hours this afternoon before I suggested ’twas time Will moved you to your own room.”

“Kade?” she asked with surprise, then groaned again as recollections began to assault her. Memories filled her mind of his holding her hair back and murmuring soothingly to her in Gaelic as she’d retched up the last of her stomach’s contents. “Dear God.”

“He was gentle with you, and kind,” Bess said, sounding surprised. “He’ll be a good husband.”

“Husband?” Averill asked with shock, and reached up to tug away the damp cloth to see the maid’s face. She saw two of them, both spinning and dancing and slightly out of focus. It made her head hurt, but her stomach appeared fine at least, she noted, and frowned at the woman. “What are you talking about?”

“Kade has offered for your hand, and your father accepted. Actually,” Bess added dryly, “he was most grateful for the offer. Your father was lamenting into a mug of whiskey that no one would accept you to wife once this debacle reached court when Kade made his way below stairs and offered for you.”

Averill stared at the kind old faces dancing before her, her brain incapable of accepting the suggestion. “He did not.”

“Aye, he did,” Bess assured her, then asked uncertainly, “Is that not good news? I thought you liked the boy.”

“Aye, I do like him,” Averill admitted. “That is the problem. I cannot possibly marry him.”

“Eh?” Bess’s double images frowned with confusion. “But if you like him—”

“Have the contracts been drawn up and signed?”

“The marriage contracts?” Bess asked, and when Averill nodded, she shook her head. “They are doing those tomorrow. Tonight he just asked and your father agreed, then they celebrated. No doubt your father will have a sore head in the morning as well.”

“Then it can still be called off,” Averill said with relief, and forced herself to sit up. The room immediately began to move around her, but she ignored it and slid her feet to the floor.

“Here now, where do you think you’re going?” Bess was on her feet at once, trying to stop her. “And what do you mean, called off? Why the devil would you want to do that? You
like
him, and he you. What—?”

“He cannot see straight, Bess,” she pointed out impatiently.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that, but even so, what does it matter? He apparently likes you well enough to offer.”

“I would not have him disappointed when his vision clears, and he is able to see me properly,” Averill said unhappily, trying to stand.

“My lady,” Bess began firmly, pushing her back to sit on the bed. “I am sure he will not be disappointed. In fact—”

“You cannot be sure,” Averill argued. “And he should at least know what he is getting.”

“Mayhaps, but—”

“I shall just go tell him that my hair is red and about the birthmark and my too-small breasts and—”

“Too-small breasts?” Bess interrupted on almost a shriek. “Where the devil did you get that nonsense?”

“From Lord Seawell,” she admitted on a sigh. “He seemed to think they were too small. He was
very disgusted and couldn’t stop staring or trying to touch them.”

“Oh, aye, disgusted he was,” she said dryly and rolled her eyes, but she also stepped out of the way. “Go on then. Go explain to the Scot that your hair’s as red as a setting sun, that you’ve a tiny strawberry on your cheek, and that your breasts are too small. But I’ve no doubt he already knows all this and will still have you.”

“Mayhap,” Averill murmured as she got carefully to her feet. “But I’ll not risk the discontent on his face when he realizes what a poor bargain he made.”

“Hmm,” Bess muttered, then raised an eyebrow as Averill peered down at herself.

“I am in my nightgown,” she said, surprised, though she supposed she shouldn’t be. After all, she had been in bed. She was just amazed that she hadn’t woken up for it.

“Aye, you are, and I am not going to the trouble to dress you at this hour.” She pulled a fur from the bed and hung it over Averill’s shoulders. “There ye are, now go on.”

“But ’tis not decent,” she protested.

Bess shrugged. “What can they do if they catch the two of you together like this but order you to marry?”

Averill narrowed her eyes on the woman. “You would like that, would you not?”

“Aye, I would, and so should you,” Bess said firmly. “He’ll be a much better husband than any of the
others your father has dragged here to Mortagne.”

Averill scowled at her briefly, acknowledging that it was true. Kade would make a much better husband than any of the rude, cruel men who had rejected her to date. He was kind, and sweet, and funny, and she enjoyed talking to him, and thought him handsome, and…She couldn’t bear to see the same disgust on his face as had been on the others. She had to talk to him, but Bess obviously would be of no help. Averill half suspected that if she did go to Kade’s room like this, the woman would go fetch her father and bring him to the room to ensure the marriage
had
to take place.

“The morning is soon enough to talk to him,” she announced grimly, throwing off the fur and climbing back into bed. “I shall just have to be sure to wake early and speak to him before he and Father can sign the contracts.”

Bess relaxed and nodded as she began to tug the linen and furs up around Averill. “A sound idea, and I shall wake you.”

Averill snorted with disbelief at the claim but closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.

“Good sleep, my lady,” Bess said quietly.

“Good sleep,” Averill answered grimly, and listened to the rustle of the woman crossing to the chamber door. She heard it open, and close, then the patter of footfalls as the maid moved away up the hall. She waited another moment before opening her eyes.

The room was dark and still. Bess had taken the candle with her, and it was summer, so there was no fire in the hearth. Unlike her old nursemaid, Averill did not care for a fire in the summer. ’Twas a damned shame, she thought now, for the light would have been helpful.

Grimacing, she sat up and peered around the room, hoping her eyes would adjust. She had no intention of waiting until morning to speak to Kade. She didn’t trust Bess to wake her in the morning in time to stop the signing of contracts either.

Her eyes weren’t adjusting any, Averill acknowledged with a small sigh, and forced herself to start moving. She knew her room well and should be able to find her chest and don a gown without light to aid her.

Averill found the chest by stubbing her toe on it. Crying out, she grabbed for her foot and hopped twice on the other foot before crashing into the second chest and tumbling to the floor with a curse. She lay still for a moment, taking inventory, but once assured she’d done herself no permanent injury, crawled to her feet and felt around until her hand brushed against stone. It only took a moment for her to realize she’d found the edge of the fireplace. Averill set her hand flat on the rock at the top of the mantel, trailed her fingers over one block, then two, but paused at the third to feel around for the tiny indentation at the bottom. Sighing her relief when she found it, Averill pulled on it, the breath whooshing from her when the wall before
her slid away, sending a gust of damp and dusty air puffing into her face.

Wrinkling her nose at the smells of age, cobwebs, and mildew, she hesitated and peered into this new kind of darkness. The yawning darkness before her was so silent and still she could almost believe there was a whole pack of rats or some other nasty creatures in the tunnel ahead, holding their breath to see if she would enter.

Feeling a shudder run down her back at the thought, Averill decided that was most unhelpful thinking and forced herself to move forward into the tunnel. She then turned right toward the room Kade was occupying. He happened to be in a room Averill had used as a playroom as a child. She had often made this journey and thought she knew the way by heart. However, as a child, she’d never done so without a candle, and now thought she must have been much smarter then.

The floor in Averill’s room was covered with fresh-smelling rushes that were changed when necessary. The floor in the tunnel was not, and she grimaced at the gritty feel of the dirt and detritus that had gathered over time as it ground into her feet. It made her wish she’d taken the trouble to dress after all. At least then she would have thought to don shoes as well.

Averill no sooner had the thought than she set her foot down on something that was neither stone nor dirt. It was soft under her heel and—with visions of dead rats in mind, or possibly even live
ones—she squealed and scampered forward willy-nilly for several feet before realizing how foolish that was and forcing herself to a halt. Standing completely still, she waited for her heart to stop racing, her ears straining for any little scampering sounds that might tell her what she’d encountered. When nothing but the sound of her own breathing reached her ears, she bit her lip and tried to work out how far she might have run.

Had she passed the entrance to Kade’s room? Surely she’d not gone that far? Damn! She had no idea where she was now.

“Did you hear that?”

Kade raised his eyebrows at Will’s question. They had been sitting talking quietly in his room since coming above stairs after celebrating Lord Mortagne’s acceptance of his proposition to marry Averill. Will seemed pleased at the coming union, and Kade was feeling rather pleased himself. He liked the girl, he enjoyed talking to her, thought she was attractive, and—now that he knew she wasn’t the sweet, weak flower he’d thought—was happy to take her to wife. Any lass who had survived a childhood of cold baths to cool her temper should have no problem with a Scottish winter.

“It sounded like…”

“A squealing pig?” Kade suggested, his gaze
moving to the wall where the sound had seemed to come from.

“Aye,” Will muttered, and moved to the wall.

Kade watched curiously as he stopped beside the mantel and counted several rocks over. He did something to a stone and eased the wall open a crack.

“What—?” Kade began, but paused when the other man raised a hand for silence. He then got to his feet and moved toward the wall when Will paused to listen, a frown cresting his face. He was next to Will before he heard the voice coming from the crack in the wall. He listened briefly, stiffening when he recognized Averill’s voice. She appeared to be talking to someone. Kade had just deduced that she was muttering to herself about never finding his room, or her own for that matter and being lost in the walls forever when Will eased the wall closed.

“What’re ye doin’? Averill is lost in there,” Kade muttered, pushing on the wall and frowning when it didn’t move.

“I thought you would want me to leave first,” Will explained. “She obviously wishes to speak to you.”

The Englishman turned back toward the wall and reached for the rock he’d touched earlier to open the door, and Kade quickly caught his arm. “Aye. Mayhap ye’d best leave. She may wish to talk about the weddin’ and may be embarrassed does she ken ye know o’ her creepin’ around in the night.”

Will nodded, then gestured to the rock he’d
fiddled with the first time he’d opened the door. “There is a lever at the bottom. Pull it up, and the door will open.”

Kade nodded, then waited until Will slipped out of the room before turning back to the wall to find the lever in question. Kade pulled on it and the door slid open a few inches. He paused at the sound of Averill’s continued mumbling and pushed it all the way open and stepped into the tunnel. He’d expected to see her coming his way, a candle in hand. What he saw was a dark so thick it could have been a cloth over his eyes. The tunnel was also suddenly deathly quiet. He couldn’t even hear her breathe.

“Averill?” he said.

“Kade?” The name came out on a whoosh of relief, and he heard the patter of her feet as she rushed forward. She threw herself at him and hugged him briefly. Kade didn’t even get the chance to raise his arms to hug her back before she overcame her relief and gratitude, recalled herself, and stepped back with an apology.

“I am sorry, my lord. ’Tis just I feared I would be stuck in here wandering the tunnels forever like some horrible ghost.” She paused suddenly and raised sharp eyes to his face. “How did you know to open the tunnel?”

“I heard ye squeal, lass,” he said easily.

“Aye, but how did you know—”

“Ye told me about the tunnels that first night I woke,” he interrupted.

“Oh, aye,” she muttered, and didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t really answered her question. She appeared too eager to get inside to worry about it and slipped past him into the room with a little sigh of relief.

Kade followed, pulling the tunnel door closed. Dear God she was a mess. Cobwebs caught in her hair, smudges of dirt on her face and chemise—a very thin, almost gossamer chemise that left little to the imagination, he noted, then forced his eyes away as she turned to face him.

Averill was wringing her hands anxiously, her face screwed up with worry, and then she blurted, “Bess told me that you have spoken to my father about marrying me.”

Kade stiffened, but nodded. “Aye. Diya no wish to marry me, lass?”

“Nay,” she said quickly. “I mean nay, ’tis not that I do not wish it,” she explained impatiently, then added, “But you may not once you know the truth.”

He felt his eyebrows rise at her words. “What truth would that be?”

She hesitated, looking completely miserable and really quite adorable with the smudges on her face. “That I am ugly, my lord.”

Kade felt himself relax. For a moment he’d worried there was something he didn’t know. That even Will didn’t know about to tell him—a tendre she held for someone, or a past indiscretion perhaps. He was relieved to know it was nothing like
that, just her belief that she was ugly, one instilled in her by others over the years…and all because of foolish superstitions.

He’d decided this evening that once they were married he would have to make an effort to build up her self-esteem and convince her that what those other suitors had said wasn’t true. It appeared, however, that he would have to do that sooner rather than later. To that end, he cleared his throat, then said, “Yer no ugly.”

Averill stared up at the ever-so-sweet man before her and sighed unhappily. She should have known this would happen. He couldn’t see her and perhaps didn’t wish to believe that what she said was true. She rather wished it wasn’t true herself. However, it was, and she’d not allow the man to marry her without first understanding what he was getting.

“’Tis kind of you to say so, and I do appreciate it,” she assured him gently, then pointed out, “Howbeit you cannot see properly and so, of course, cannot see how my hair is an ugly orange, or—”

“I can see yer hair,” he growled. “’Tis no orange. ’Tis a mixture o’ blonde and red. I like it.”

She blinked in surprise, then realized that he might actually see her hair. He had said his vision was blurry, but that did not affect color. “Really?” she asked finally. “You like my hair?”

He scowled, but nodded, and then—looking exceedingly uncomfortable—added, “It puts me in mind o’ a late-summer sunset.”

Her eyes went wide at the words. No one had ever described her hair so nicely. A soft smile played about her lips for a moment, but then she sighed, and said, “Mayhap you do not mind the color, but I also apparently have no breasts to speak of.”

“Ye—
What
?” he asked with disbelief, and his eyes lowered to her chest, narrowing in an effort to see them better. Judging by the bewilderment on his face, he could no better see them now than he had all week. “What the devil are ye talking about woman? Ye’ve breasts.”

Averill flushed at the disgruntled claim. “Well, aye, I have them, but not bosomy breasts.”

“Bosomy?” he asked with confusion.

“You know…” She held her hands before her own small breasts as if holding great, heavy melons, and repeated, “Bosomy breasts. Big, womanly ones.”

When his expression didn’t change one iota, she tried to think of another way to explain, then brightened and said, “They are like plums compared to melons, my lord. Not completely flat, but not large either.”

“Plums are nice,” he muttered, his gaze still locked on her breasts.

Realizing he still wasn’t comprehending, Averill pondered how she was to make it clear to him when he could not see properly. She worried her lip briefly, then recalled how Lord Seawell had groped her and reached for one of Kade’s hands. While Lord Seawell’s groping had earned him a punch in
the nose,
he
was not suffering vision problems and it did seem to her that if Kade could not see them, she would just have to show him. ’Twas better an uncomfortable moment or two now than years of suffering his bitter regret later.

“What—?” Kade began, then seemed to almost choke on the next word as she raised his hand and pressed it against one small breast.

“You see?” she asked unhappily, trying to ignore the strange tingling that had suddenly started in the breast his hand covered. “They are rather small. At least Lord Seawell seemed to think so. I had never noticed it myself. I mean, I did not think them large, but they are not the smallest in the keep, and—” She paused on a sigh. “Lord Seawell seemed to think them lacking, and I would not have you marry me without knowing their size and complaining later.”

Kade’s mouth opened and closed several times before he managed a strangled, “Er…”

Averill sighed with disappointment. It seemed she need not explain her other failings. As with Lord Seawell, the size of her breasts must be important to him, and he was now struggling to sort out how to tell her he had changed his mind. Clearing her throat, she said quietly, “You need not worry that I shall hold you to the offer to marry me, my lord. I would not—”

Averill’s words ended on a gasp of surprise as Kade reached out with his other hand, caught her behind the neck, and drew her forward to cover
her mouth with his. Eyes wide, she found herself staring at his ear and the side of his head as his mouth moved over her slightly parted lips. It was soft and questing at first, then his tongue slid out and rasped its way into her mouth. Her eyes closed against the riot of sensation stirring through her. His hand was no longer quiescent on her breast, but was now squeezing the orb through her thin chemise and lifting it as if testing its weight.

Averill couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from her mouth into his as he then began to pluck at the nipple. Much to her regret, the sound seemed to recall him to the moment, for he broke the kiss. Rather than straighten away from her, however, his mouth trailed away to her ear and his hand continued to knead and pluck at her breast as he whispered, “No’ a plum. An apple, and I like apples.”

“You do?” Averill breathed, her head tilting of its own accord as he began to nibble at her ear.

“Aye. Verra much.”

“Oh.” She sighed and leaned unconsciously into the hand at her breast. “I like apples, too.”

Kade chuckled, his breath blowing across the skin he’d just dampened, and Averill shivered and instinctively turned her head back to find his lips again. He allowed it, claiming her mouth as she silently requested, his tongue coming out again, this time for a more thorough inspection. As it wrestled with her own, then ran across her teeth, Averill was reminded of the thought she’d had that afternoon that she should open her mouth so Lord
Seawell could examine her teeth…which led her to remember that she had not informed Kade of all her faults yet.

Perhaps it didn’t matter, she thought hopefully, and moaned as the hand at her neck dropped down to clasp her bottom and urge her lower body against his. She sighed into his mouth and turned her head away to break the kiss. It did matter. She liked Kade and had to be sure he knew what a poor bargain he was making.

“I stammer,” she gasped as soon as her mouth was free of his. “’Tis most—Oh!” She gasped with surprise as he suddenly stepped back and dropped into one of the chairs before the cold hearth, tugging her onto his lap as he went. He tried to capture her lips again, but Averill avoided his mouth and repeated almost desperately, “I stammer.”

“Ye doona stammer with me,” he said simply and turned his attention to the breast he’d been kneading, tugging the top of her chemise aside so that he could touch and fondle the breast he’d revealed.

“I…I…Ohhhh,” Averill moaned, and clutched at his shoulders as his mouth suddenly bent to her breast and closed over the now-erect nipple. She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly, as heat exploded through her. This was really the most amazing—

Shaking her head, she forced herself back to what she was supposed to be doing. Flaws. Which ones had she listed? Hair, breasts, stammer…What the
devil was the other—Oh yes! Catching his head, she forced him away from her breast to meet her gaze.

“I have a birthmark on my cheek. ’Tis quite large and ugly and—” Averill paused abruptly as he began to chuckle. Eyes narrowing, she asked, “What, pray, do you find so funny, my lord?”

“You,” he admitted gently, then said, “’Tis no’ large or ugly. ’Tis quite small, barely the size of the nail on your baby finger, and at first I mistook it for a dimple. ’Tis adorable.”

Averill’s eyes widened at this claim, then closed in brief defeat as his lips covered hers once more. It was simply impossible to argue with his tongue in her mouth. Besides, she didn’t really want to argue. She wanted him to continue doing what he was doing, kissing her and touching her and—She moaned and sank against his chest as he resumed caressing her breast again, then just as quickly stiffened and broke the kiss again as a thought struck her.

“How do you know ’tis small and shaped like a straw—” She paused and thrust herself off his lap, gasping, “You mistook it for a dimple? You can
see
me?”

“Aye.” Kade tugged her back onto his lap despite her efforts to avoid it, then holding her there, he met her gaze, and said, “My vision had cleared by the second morning I was awake.”

“The s-second—B-but—”

He covered her mouth with his hand, bringing
an end to her stammering. When she stilled, he said solemnly, “Will said ye were self-conscious of yer looks and might stammer or avoid me did ye ken I could see ye. I wished yer company, so when he claimed I still could no’ see, I let the lie stand.”

Kade waited a moment for that to sink in, then took his hand away. “Yer hair is glorious, and the birthmark charming, ye doona stammer around me, and I like yer breasts. I’m happy to take ye to wife. The question now is, will ye have me?”

Averill stared at him with disbelief. While she was pleased that he seemed content with the size of her breasts, after so many rejecting her because of her hair and birthmark, it was hard to believe he liked both of those. However, he had no reason to lie that she could think of. Averill supposed he could be trying to prevent her thinking he wished to marry her mostly for her dower. She didn’t know why he would bother, however. That was only to be expected, it was why hers was so generous, why dowries even existed at all, to lure a husband. In fact, Averill would have been surprised had someone claimed it wasn’t the reason he was interested in marrying her…. He was right about the fact that she didn’t stammer around him, however, Averill realized quite suddenly, and wondered why that was.