Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A fter they'd bade farewell to the villagers, they mounted their horses and rode back toward the castle. Dahlia's stomach was clenched so tight she was almost retching. They had no idea what would be in store for them or whether Bairre had discovered her absence and realized Arran had escaped from the burning cottage.

It was late when they arrived and, once again, Arran led them through the labyrinth of passages that only he seemed to understand and know the way around. He escorted her to her bedchamber, but she clung to him, afraid to let him go, fully aware of Bairre's murderous attitude toward him

"Are ye sure ye can keep safe from Bairre and his men? His anger will grow tenfold when he discovers yer escape from the fire."

"Never fear. I'll be able tae remain hidden among the passageways in the keep. I can stay out of sight, mixing with the servants who ken me and will remain loyal. I've nay fear of Bairre and his men."

Dahlia protested, her fear for him growing by the minute. "But once he discovers there is nae body burnt tae ashes in the old cottage, he'll ken ye escaped. If he wants ye dead he'll nae be inclined tae leave ye tae yer freedom."

He shrugged. "Dinnae fash about me, Dahlia. ‘Tis ye who is in the greatest danger. Should Bairre suspect where ye've been this past day and night he will rage at ye."

"I'm nae afraid. As far as he kens, I've simply been keeping tae me bedchamber and avoiding him. I'll make sure Beattie keeps tae me story. That I was indisposed and needed the peace of me own rooms. Even Bairre cannae complain if a lady's monthly flow keeps her hidden in her rooms fer a few days."

He grinned at her. "Aye. Ye're right. He cannae complain about yer absence."

There was only time for the briefest of kisses before he was on his way, creeping silently along the passageway. Dahlia stood at the door of her chambers and watched until he merged with the dark shadows at the end of the hallway and disappeared.

Once inside the room she rang the bell for Beattie who appeared almost at once, looking greatly relieved to see her mistress again, safe and sound.

She quickly set about lighting the fire and plumping the pillows on the bed.

"The laird asked fer ye yesterday, but I told him ye were keeping tae yer room and that seemed tae satisfy him. Where did ye go melady?"

"Och. Good lass. I'll keep tae me rooms tomorrow, let him think I'm in me monthly period and keeping tae meself."

"Very good melady. D'ye care fer some nourishment from the kitchen now?"

Dahlia nodded. She was hungry, and it would be well if Bairre heard she'd called fer soup and bannocks tae be brought.

Beattie bustled off, leaving a warm fire blazing in the hearth and Dahlia breathing much easier. It seemed that, thanks to Beattie covering for her, she had managed to fool Bairre. And with any luck she could avoid him for at least another day.

She hungrily consumed the hearty leek and carrot soup Beattie brought her, and devoured the oat cakes and bannocks. The events of the past day had left her thoroughly worn out and she relished the idea that tomorrow she could remain cloistered in her room, avoiding Bairre for as long as possible

The next day passed pleasantly enough. Beattie brought her embroidery and silks from the solar and Dahlia spent some quiet hours engaged in the gentle pastime. It was a welcome respite from the horror she'd been through in the flaming bothy and the dash on horseback to the safety of the villagers and Elspaith's healing. It seemed almost a miracle now, thinking it over, that she'd been in the forest and in time to save Arran's life.

Now she knew what Bairre was capable off her revulsion toward him grew. There must be a way for Arran to find the place where Bairre was keeping Emilia hidden so they could at last make their escape from the castle and ruin her damned betrothal. She longed for some word from her brother but it was only two weeks since she'd sent here missive asking for his help. Every day she waited, hopeful that there'd be a message from the king.

Around midday a kitchen-maid brought a platter of honey cakes with a message from the laird hoping it would not be long before she would be feeling well enough to join him in the solar for a meal.

She sent a message back with the maid, thanking Bairre for his thoughtfulness and complaining that she was still out of sorts and it would be at least another two days before she could join him.

Her thoughts were only of Arran and how he may be evading Bairre and his entourage. He could only stay hidden for a short time. Sooner or later, someone would – wittingly or unwittingly – give away his concealed presence in the keep.

Inside the castle, there was some protection for him as he had been a popular laird and had many supporters. Bairre could not murder him there and as long as he was well-hidden he was comparatively safe. Still, Dahlia worried incessantly about him, wishing with all her heart he could send her a message letting her know of his wellbeing.

By the end of the day she was finding her solitude rather tiresome. She would have taken herself out to the garden for a turn among the rose bushes and a breath of fresh air, but she was afraid she might be unlucky enough to meet with Bairre in her travels so she remained locked in her room.

She was seated before the fire after supper when she heard the faintest scratching at her door. Her heart leaped in her chest. It could only be Arran.

She raced across and creaked open the door just wide enough for him to slip into her room.

At once he folded her into his arms.

"Me love," he breathed, "are ye all right?"

She sighed. "Of course, I'm alright, Arran. I am here in splendid isolation, the maids tae dae me bidding, and bring me food whenever I am hungry. I sleep uninterrupted when I wish and I am safe from the attentions of Laird Bairre, at least fer the time being. But what of ye?"

He chuckled. "I am one of the castle rats, hiding in the nooks and crannies, coming out only after dark. The only danger I am in is from the castle cats."

She laughed. "I ken because ye are here in front of me that ye are safe so far. That yer presence hasnae been discovered by those that wish ye ill."

He walked her across to the chair beside the fireplace and sat, pulling her onto his knee, and for the next few hours they were busy with kisses and sighs, hugs, gentle and fierce touches, giggles and moans.

Dahlia at last drew back her head and gazed deep into Arran's hazel eyes, gold and green in the flickering firelight.

"Ye're a fine-looking lad, Arran Macmillan," she sighed. "I didnae ken that kisses and lovemaking could be such that they would be everything. When I'm with ye I forget the world and all its dangers and all I can think of is ye and how ye pleasure me."

In answer, he layered a dozen tiny kisses along her fine jawline and along the delicate arch of her throat, his lips coming to rest in the sweet spot at the base of her neck.

"I wish ye would show me what I can dae tae please ye," she looked up shyly from beneath her lashes. "Ye pleased me a great deal with what he did with yer fingers and yer lips, without taking pleasure fer yersel'. I wish tae be able tae dae the same fer ye."

"Ye're wrong if ye think there was nae pleasure in it fer me, lass." He shook his head. "Why the taste of ye is pure nectar, and watching ye lost in the great ardor that comes from me touch and mine alone sends me senses whirling intae the heavens. There is so much pleasure fer me in watching ye reach the heights of ecstasy at me touch."

"In that case…" She reached a hand to the tie in his trews. "I wish tae touch ye and ye tae show me what pleasures ye."

As she undid the braeis his manhood sprang free, already stiff and upright. With a soft chuckle she took it in her hand. "I remember ye told me tae be firm with it." She tightened her grip on him, reveling in the small guttural sound that issued from his throat as she clutched him, moving her hand along the length of him.

"Aye lass, like that." He moaned again and shifted so she had a better hold on him.

"I wish tae take ye in me mouth and explore ye with me lips and tongue the way ye did with me."

She bent and tested him with her tongue, running it along him, pressing it into the tiny slot on the head of his shaft which already shone with moisture.

Then she took him into her mouth, working her tongue on his length, suckling at the head of him, letting her mouth slip over him and down a little.

"Harder…" he mumbled.

She sucked harder, bobbing her head as he thrust gently into her mouth, sliding her hand up and down to the hilt of him and back.

His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, his breath panting and ragged. She loved the way it was to hold him in her mouth and feel him pulsating beneath her, she loved the thrilling power of seeing him so readily reduced from bold and robust to hapless and almost submissive under her mouth and hands.

He cried out once, a muffled sound that merged with the crackling fire and her own sighs and then he fell back, holding her tightly.

She grinned up at him. "Ye teach me so much about the endless delights in store fer lovers."

"Och. There are many more delights awaiting us when the day dawns and we're nae living in the shadow of Bairre Mackinnon. When me maither is safe and we are, at last, free tae be together."

She sighed, thinking of some future magical time when their problems were behind them. "There is nay place I would rather be than here with ye."

"Even more than at Castle MacLeod?" He teased.

"Well... Mayhap being at Castle MacLeod with me braithers and their wives would bring more delight."

He laughed loudly. "We'll visit there, but yer rightful home will be in Castle Macmillan."

She pursed her lips at that. "This place has bad memories fer me, Arran." Her eyes grew sad as she remembered the death of her brother, Thor, at the hands of James Mackinnon.

"The time is fast approaching when we will make new memories. All of them will be happy ones."

She smiled and reached up to brush his lips with a kiss.

"But for now, that happy time is still in the future, and tomorrow I must face the laird again. I have spent me allotted time cloistered in me bedchambers; he'll nae believe me if I cling tae me room any longer."

"Are ye sure ye can keep safe from Bairre and his men. His anger will grow tenfold when he discovers yer escape from the bothy.

Aware that she may encounter Bairre, Dahlia decided to break her fast in her solar rather than taking it in her room as she'd been doing. She was contemplating a bowl of porridge with very little appetite when Bairre entered the room.

"Me dear," he cried when he caught sight of her. "I am so pleased ye're feeling well enough tae rejoin our company."

Dahlia shuddered as he took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"I'm still nae completely well, Bairre," she said, keeping her voice faint.

He studied her for a moment. "Aye. Ye're very pale melady. Mayhap a walk in the garden would dae ye good."

Dahlia sighed. She'd taken care to power her face with a dusting of wheaten flour and she guessed she was as white as a lily. All the better to convince Bairre that she'd been out of sorts for several days. Of course, it was unseemly to mention a lady's monthly flow so she kept her eyes down and did not mention her health again.

"Mayhap Beattie will accompany ye into the garden, where ye will regain yer strength." He got to his feet, clearly not a man who was comfortable with ‘women's illnesses'. To Dahlia's relief, he took his leave and strode out of the solar.

She watched him go with a sense of reprieve washing over her. There was nothing to suggest from his manner that he had any suspicious at all that her story was a long way from the truth. It was impossible to tell whether he was aware that Arran had not been killed by the fire and, if he had escaped, that it was Dahlia who had played an important part in that.

Beattie came bustling in. "I met the laird on his way out and he suggested ye might be well enough tae walk in the rose garden." She packed up Dahlia's untouched embroidery and collected the dishes of untouched food Dahlia had left. "Once I've returned these tae the kitchen I'll help ye outside tae the garden. ‘Tis a pleasant day fer stretching yer limbs again after being cooped up inside fer so long."

Dahlia knew only too well that Beattie was aware the reality of her story did not match exactly with what Bairre had been told, but she knew better than to ask questions about Dahlia's mysterious absence.

Somewhere in the labyrinthine passages of the castle, Arran was lying low. Dahlia wondered just how long he could remain hidden before he emerged again. As long as he remained concealed, he was safe from Bairre's murderous intent, but, at the same time, he was no closer to discovering where his mother was concealed.

She knew it was only a matter of time before Arran revealed himself to Bairre. If only there was some way she could discover something that could give a clue as to where Emilia was being held.