Chapter Six

T heir gazes fused.

It was her turn to feel as though her heart stopped. She suddenly understood why poets referred to the eyes as the window to one's soul.

She felt connected to Diarmuid. When his heart thumped, hers answered. She would have sworn that some sort of current passed between them. Without a doubt, she knew that she would see his eyes in her dreams until she drew her last breath.

His eyes narrowed. "Who are ye?"

Ailsa was trying to think of a way to begin an explanation when he surged up off the bed, turning her, and pinning her beneath him.

He was a powerful beast…

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

His expression was tight. "I would have recalled managing to seduce a lass as fair as ye. Are ye here to finish me off since the first blow did nae put me in my grave?"

"Someone hit you?" Ailsa was thinking out loud. That sounded better than panicking at least. His expression was hard and fierce.

His eyes narrowed in response. "As if ye do not already know it."

"I don't know anything about how you came to be in this chamber," Ailsa defended herself.

"Ye called to me," Diarmuid accused her softly. "Who set ye out as bait for me? Name them, and I might be lenient with ye."

"Your father locked me in here. You were on the bed looking more dead than alive," Ailsa insisted. She strained upwards but only managed to press her body against his. Diarmuid's lips thinned and there was the stirring of something against her belly.

Her mother had told her what that something was…his male parts.

Her cheeks burned hot with a blush. "It is true. Laird Keith locked that chamber door after having a priest marry us."

Diarmuid thought her mad. Ailsa saw it in his eyes.

"I realize it sounds quite unreasonable," she stammered, unable to resist the impulse to try and wiggle out from beneath him again. His cock hardened further, making her mouth go dry. "This is a very awkward position to have a conversation in."

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. For just a moment his face was transformed. She'd thought him fair already. But when he wasn't scowling, he was very handsome.

"Ye must have joined me in this bed, lass," he muttered. But he rolled to one side. "And ye have already admitted that ye knew I was in the bed."

"Yes," she agreed. Her lips were suddenly dry. She rolled them in, only to notice that his gaze was on her mouth.

"I am waiting on an explanation, lass."

His tone was firm. Without a doubt he was the son of the Laird. Diarmuid was clearly accustomed to having his will obeyed.

Wives obeyed. And they were in bed.

"Just give me the name of the one who lured ye into this scheme," Diarmuid insisted.

"I am not part of any scheme."

One of his dark eyebrows rose. "Ye are as nervous as a virgin who has lost her chaperone at sunset."

Ailsa laughed. She just couldn't help it. Diarmuid tilted his head to one side. "Ye find it amusing to be in bed with me without the blessing of the church? Tell me who has made ye believe ye have so little worth. I promise I will nae permit yer innocence to be bartered like a mug of mead."

Ailsa sobered. A feeling fluttered inside of her that she had to contemplate for a moment before she managed to identify it. She felt respected. He was very serious, and it warmed her to see it in his eyes. For the first time since climbing into the bed with him, she relaxed.

He was an honorable man.

Diarmuid read the emotions on her face. He reached out, smoothing some of her unbound hair back from her face. "I should nae be seeing ye like this. Such a privilege should be reserved for the man who shares yer wedding night."

"We are wed."

His eyes narrowed. "Ye do nae need to continue with this farce."

"I wish it was untrue." Ailsa let out a little huff. "But the woman who was trusted as my chaperone tossed me over the side of the ship I was on. She paid off the captain and he sailed away. I made it to shore through the grace of everything holy where Brom found me. It is a relief in a way to hear you say that you were attacked."

He grunted. "I will nae be lenient with the man who struck me from behind. There is no honor in it."

The bed ropes creaked. That was all the warning Ailsa got before Diarmuid was once again pressing her onto her back, his body hard and immovable. "Tell me his name."

The relief she'd felt had been a mistake. Diarmuid had wanted her to lower her guard, but he still believed her guilty of wrongdoing.

"I do not know." She tried to buck him off her, but he remained solidly in place. Every inch of her body was exploding with new, powerful sensations. Truthfully, she had never realized her body could even experience such extreme feelings.

"Why are ye in my bed if you are nae desperate?" Diarmuid demanded softly. "Ye are too fetching to do something like this unless ye are desperate. I will offer ye my protection."

He was so close; she felt his breath against her lips. A shudder shook her when the delicate surface of her lips tingled with anticipation. It was the strangest reaction she'd ever had to another human being.

No, reaction wasn't the correct word. What she felt was a yearning. But his look was harsh, condemning her and she could not stand it. The need to be worthy in his eyes filled her full of indignant rage.

"But a single day ago I was on a ship bound for my marriage. I was betrayed by those my father trusted. But I did not give up, I made it to the shore where Brom found me. Your father said that if I fail to wake you, he will entomb me here with you," she reiterated hoping he'd understand.

"That makes no sense," Diarmuid argued.

"Your father believes there is a ghost in this tower."

His expression eased. "Aye, he is nae alone in that."

"Look at the table. It is laid with a wedding feast. Do you smell the beeswax candles and the spices? Someone named Aodh proclaimed that the only thing that would free you from an eternity with Brigitta is a mortal wife."

Ailsa had to stop speaking to draw in a breath. Relief swept through her for Diarmuid's expression had eased. He blinked and then looked off toward the table.

"Brigitta…," he muttered. A shudder shook his body, and then he simply collapsed.

"Diarmuid?" Ailsa felt her terror return like the tide coming in. She pushed Diarmuid to the side. He rolled over, one arm flopping over the side of the bed.

"Diarmuid?"

He was gone again. Just as he'd been when she was first shut inside the chamber.

It couldn't be! Had she been given a taste of hope only to be denied it now?

No! She refused to give up!

But where determination might warm her, Diarmuid was becoming chilled. His pallor whitened and a single word came across his lips in a whisper.

"Brigitta."

*

"My lord…I am here."

Brigitta hurried toward the bed. Her expression betrayed her stress and worry. "Forgive me for making you wait."

Diarmuid needed to think. There was something very important inside of his mind that he suddenly couldn't recall.

"I will be your wife in every way," Brigitta muttered softly. Her dress was gone, leaving her in her under clothing. She lifted her smock up, the fine fabric like a cloud.

Diarmuid blinked but she slid into the bed beside him before he saw her bare form.

"I am yours in every way…," Brigitta muttered.

She embraced him. The curves of her body fit perfectly against his. Once again, something needled at him. Some thought lingering in the back of his mind. But with a warm, willing woman pressed against him, Diarmuid felt besotted.

"At last, we shall be one." Brigitta threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him to lean down and kiss her to seal their union.

His heart thumped only a single time and then it was still.

*

Fingal was waiting near the back passageway into the kitchen. Ysenda locked gazes with him for a moment before he turned and waited for her in the shadows. She didn't risk a look in the direction of the cook for fear of seeing that the cook had noticed Fingal's presence.

She continued to work, finishing her task before she headed out of the kitchen.

Her cousin was waiting impatiently for her.

"Ye should not have come," Ysenda chastised Fingal. "Everyone is on edge. We must not give anyone a reason to question anything we do."

"There is a rumor of Diarmuid's voice being heard through the closed doors from those set to guard them," Fingal informed her gruffly. "There is no way to get the poison inside the chamber now."

"Be at ease," Ysenda cautioned him. "I already put the poison in the cider that is inside the Maiden's Tower chamber."

"Ye did?" Fingal was surprised.

"I told ye to trust me," Ysenda said. "The cook ordered Diarmuid's favorite cider to be prepared. If he wakes, he will drink it to ease the ache in his head."

Fingal nodded; his tight expression eased.

"Now go, and do not seek me again until this is well over," Ysenda cautioned him.

Fingal nodded in agreement. He looked both ways before disappearing into the passageway.