Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he night air was cold, but the nip of chilly wind was a relief to Alayne after the warmth of the healer’s cottage. She’d intended to go to the rooms she shared with Darren and wait for him, but her own restlessness made her unable to sleep, and she’d eventually decided to take a walk in the gardens to soothe her thoughts.

The garden was dormant now, waiting for spring to bring it to life. Alayne amused herself by trying to guess what sort of different plants were in the kitchen garden, the main garden, and the family gardens. The bushes were mostly generic hedges, of the type most lairds cultivated to form borders and makeshift walls. Some of them, however, had thorns that she thought indicated they were actually roses. She wondered what color they would be.

She’d always had a fondness for red roses, though yellow and white were also beautiful. But she was most fond of roses that had sweet scents she could use in perfumes and scented sachets.

The kitchen garden most likely held vegetables and herbs. The smaller plots were likely herbs, and there was a large section that might be potatoes. The rest she couldn’t guess.

As for the rest of the plants - maybe Darren would allow her to plant flowers and foliage of her own choosing. Did he care at all for gardens, or were they simply a part of the keep that he left alone?

“What are ye doing out here?” Alayne’s heart leaped into her throat at the sound of a familiar voice. She turned.

Darren stood behind her. He looked weary, and there were shadows of pain in his eyes, but as he walked toward her, she could see he was steady on his feet, and his eyes were clear of the drugged haziness they’d had before.

“Alayne?”

She recalled the question he’d asked. “I couldnae sleep. I thought a walk in the garden would help settle me thoughts.” She reached out to embrace him gently, mindful of his wounds. “I was sore worried for ye, this past day.”

“I’m sorry ye were worried. I should have been more careful. But even so, ‘tis nae safe tae be wandering the gardens at night. We still dinnae ken who attacked me, or how they managed tae sneak intae the keep.”

Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs at the reminder that she still hadn’t told him about the promise of Donall’s release, or the likelihood that he’d returned home to Ranald Keep by now. She started to speak, then stopped.

Yes, her brother’s release was something Darren needed to know about. But surely it could wait until morning, after he’d had a chance to rest. She still didn’t believe that Donall was involved in attacking him, which meant there was time to tell him later.

A sharper than usual gust of wind blew across the back of her neck, and Alayne shivered. Darren frowned slightly. “Yer goin’ tae catch a chill if ye remain out here.” He pulled her closer to his warmth. “We should go inside.”

“Aye. But I’m still nae sure I can sleep.”

To her surprise, Darren smiled slightly, in spite of the bruises and his cut lip. “I think I have a way tae help with that.”

Her stomach fluttered, her skin tingling as the obvious suggestion came to mind. “Aye?”

“Aye.” Darren steered her toward the doors of MacLean Keep. Alayne went willingly. She was surprised to find that she was hopeful for another intimate encounter. Her stomach still fluttered with nerves, but it was a pleasant sensation, calling to mind the joy she’d experienced two nights ago.

She was surprised again when Darren led her not to their room, but to the library. She’d perused the shelves idly a few times, especially after Darren had told her that Lyla and Daemon often found inspiration for their lovemaking among the tomes in Daemon’s collection. However, she hadn’t found anything that seemed to offer inspiration for her.

She looked at her husband. “What are we doing here?”

“When I couldnae sleep as a lad, there was a book me maither read tae me tae help me sleep. I thought I could share it with ye, and perhaps it will work the same way.”

“Even if it doesnae, I’m sure I’ll enjoy the book - and listening tae ye read it.” Alayne smiled at him. ”Or I could read it tae ye, tae help ye relax and take yer mind off things.”

“’Twould be a welcome respite. ‘Tis worryin’ nae kenning how enemies got inside the keep.” Darren’s gaze turned troubled. “I danae like it, but I cannae find any explanation save that there’s a traitor among my clan-folk. I hate tae even think it, but someone in me keep is hiding things from me and lying about their true loyalties.”

She recalled what he’d said about despising lies and secrets because of the way they’d torn apart his family. Her stomach flipped with nerves, but she still couldn’t bear to bring up Donall, not when he was still troubled by so many other concerns.

She’d tell him first thing in the morning. At the moment, Alayne wanted nothing more than to erase the lines of strain and weariness that his recent ordeal had created.

Darren stepped around her to a nearby shelf and reached out to grab a well-worn book. “This is the one…”

Alayne couldn’t stop herself. She stepped close, reached up and pulled him close. Then, before he could react, or she could lose her nerve, she kissed him.

Darren stiffened in surprise as Alayne’s lips captured his own. Her kiss was soft, tentative. gentle against his bruised lips. It was also one of the most arousing sensations he’d ever experienced. Even the faint, stinging pain from the cut on his mouth added to the enticement. Heat pulsed through his body as desire overcame weariness.

He had just enough presence of mind to set the book to one side and fold his arms around her. “Are ye sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life. If that’s something ye want right now, then I want ye.”

“They say that making love can heal a man.” He’d never put much stock in such stories, but he was willing to try it, if she wanted him.

He started to move toward the door, intent on going to their bedroom, but Alayne stopped him with a shy hand on his arm and a deceptively beguiling look on her face. “Ye also told me once that yer kin-by-marriage often find inspiration in the library.” Her smile was daring, if a little uncertain, and Darren felt himself hardening where he stood. Suddenly, walking to their shared quarters seemed like it would take too long.

He pulled her closer, so he could cup her jaw and thread his fingers through her soft, thick hair. “Are ye feeling inspired, me wife?”

“Mayhaps.” She stepped closer, her body soft and pliant against his. “And I… I can tell ye might be experiencing some inspiration o’ yer own.”

“That I am.” The fire was nothing more than low embers in the hearth, but it was enough to cast intriguing shadows across Alayne’s face as he guided them both down to lie on the thick rug that lay just in front of the fireplace.

His wounds still ached, and his bruises twinged as he lay down beside her, but neither of those sensations mattered next to the warmth that spread through him as he bent to kiss her, soft and sweet and lingering. Unhurried hands slid to the laces of her bodice to undo them enough to slide his hand inside and cup the soft mound of her breasts. He gently teased her nipples, pinching and rolling them until they were hardened peaks, and Alayne was whimpering and moving restlessly beneath him.

Then his hand slid lower, across her belly to gently press against her sex. Through the cloth he could feel the heat of her, and Alayne arched into his touch. “Please… Darren…”

Despite the rug, the library floor was hard, and his own body too badly battered for many of the things he wanted to do with her. The door was also unlocked, adding the risk of being interrupted. He wasn’t sure Alayne’s newfound boldness would withstand the embarrassment of that, if someone were to walk in on them.

Even so, his aching manhood begged for release, and Alayne’s kiss-reddened lips and desire filled eyes were too great a temptation for him to ignore.

He bent to kiss her, another gentle, lingering kiss, a languid exploration of lips and teeth and tongue, as his hand slid her skirt up until he could reach underneath the hem and caress the softness of her thighs, then guide his hand between them to run his fingers through the curls that adorned her sex, already damp with the evidence of her arousal.

His fingers slid against her, and Alayne whimpered, legs parting as she pressed into his hand.

“Ye’re so ready fer me…” He buried his nose in the valley between the peaks of her breasts. “The smell o’ ye, willing and waiting fer me touch…”

He slid a finger between the lips of her sex, stroking along the inner walls until he found her pleasure center and circled it with his finger, making her squirm against his hand as she cried out his name. Then he shifted his hand so his thumb could tease the sensitive area, while his fingers pressed deeper into her, opening her up for his claiming.

He could see the passion in her eyes, the dazed heat as her pleasure took her over, and pulled back before it could become overwhelming. As tempting as it was to carry her beyond the edge, to see her come apart around his hand, he wanted something else.

Alayne whimpered again as he removed his hand. “Darren… please…”

“Aye?”

“Please. I need ye… please…”

“What is it ye need?” He pitched his voice low, with just the hint of a rough growl on the end, the way she seemed to like it best, and was rewarded with a blush across her cheeks and a flash of desire in her eyes. “Tell me what ye want.”

“I want ye… tae claim me.”

“I’ve already done that.” Nothing said he couldn’t enjoy a bit of teasing, to heighten both their pleasure, even if his erection begged for him to bury himself in her warm and willing channel.

“Please, I want ye… inside me…”

“Ye want me hand?” He stroked her again, and she whimpered and squirmed.

“Nae. I want… ye… yer…I want ye tae take me as a husband takes a wife.”

“Dae ye now?”

“Please…”

She looked so desperate, he couldn’t tease her any more. He reminded himself she was still fairly untaught in the ways of lovers. Too much teasing might upset her, rather than excite her.

“As ye will.”

He slid her dress up, baring her to his gaze as he knelt between her legs. He started to remove his kilt, then stopped as a different idea occurred to him. Instead, he shifted the fabric just enough to allow him to position himself at her entrance, then pressed himself inside her hot, tight, velvet-soft channel until he was fully sheathed.

Alayne gasped, muscles tightening around him and drawing him deeper, until his aching shaft was completely swallowed by her feminine core, to the point he could feel the softness of her buttocks against his bollocks.

He wouldn’t last like this. More to the point, he wasn’t sure he could enjoy it, bruised as he was. Already, his aching body was protesting, the pang of bruises and abused muscles sharp enough to cut through even the rising fog of pleasure.

“Shall we try something different taenight, my wife?” With that, he took her hips, and rolled them over, so that she was straddling him.

The sensation of the hard floor under the thick rug, and the feel of fabric teasing sensitive skin were new and exciting enough, but the feel of Darren shifting inside her as he rolled over and positioned her above him was enough to leave her breathless with pleasure and heat.

Dazed, she stared down at her husband. Darren’s hands on her hips held her in place as she regained her balance, knees on either side of his waist, her sex pressed against his groin. “What…”

“Rise up on yer knees a little.” Darren’s hands guided her up, separating them, before he drew her back down. It felt like riding a wave, heat spiralling up from their joined bodies to her core as she settled atop him again.

She repeated the motion, and watched as Darren’s face tightened with pleasure, and words spilled from his mouth in that rough, admiring tone he’d spoken with the last time they made love. “Och, look at ye, riding me like ye were born tae it. Aye… that’s it… a little faster.”

She moved a little faster, a little higher, changing the height, and her position ever so slightly with every rise and fall. Darren groaned, head thrown back and hands falling to clench the rug as she moved over him. The words dissolved into a groan as his hips arched up to meet her in helpless response.

It was exciting, arousing, to have such power over him. Enthralling, all the little differences in this moment that added to her pleasure.

The soft fabric that teased her sex and ruffled the curls there with every movement, the way his kilt and her dress covered them, hiding the joining and making it seem all the more intense, like savoring forbidden sweets while hidden from notice.

The location too, added another layer of enticement. She’d never thought of enjoying intimacy outside the bedchamber. There was a thrill to it, something that stung and teased her nerves, the delight in her husband’s body mirrored by the tingle of fear that someone might come in and see them.

One of Darren’s hands moved, to caress her chest and loosen the laces further, before he pushed back the fabric and tugged the bodice down to bare her breasts to the cool night air. “That’s it. Just like this. Show me yer pleasure, love…”

Under his admiring eyes and his touch it was easy to fall into a rhythm, to give herself over to the sensations that spiraled through her in a rising coil of heat and pleasure. The feeling of his manhood filling her, the burn of being stretched around his hard member combined with the cool air teasing her bared breasts, and the fluttering sensation of desire and the thrill of possible discovery that flowed through her.

Alayne gave herself over to it. Even the ache in her knees from the floor was a welcome sensation, a bit of pain to add spice to the pleasure.

The wave built, stronger and higher with every motion she made, every rise and fall of her body.

“Lean forward a little.” Darren’s voice was strained, cracking.

She did as he suggested, feeling his body change position within hers, a new and startling sensation that made her gasp with pleasure. Then one of Darren’s hands moved to tease her breasts, while the other slid between them to press against her pleasure center as his hips arched into hers.

Alayne cried out, body arching as her release exploded through her with enough force to send stars dancing through her vision. Her core muscles tightened around Darren’s member, and he made a hoarse sound as his own climax hit, their bodies nearly fused together at the point of joining. The feel of Darren’s seed spurting deep into her welcoming core sent another wave through Alayne, and she felt herself collapse bonelessly against her husband’s chest as the pleasure swept her away.

Darren regained his senses with Alayne lying across his chest, and a combination of aching from bruises and the warmth of satisfaction flowing through his veins. It was tempting to let himself sleep, but he could feel the hard floor beneath the rug. He knew if he gave in to the urge to sleep, he’d wake twice as sore and unable to move.

He shook Alayne’s shoulder gently. “Much as I like having ye there, lass, I think we’d be better taking ourselves tae bed.”

Alayne shifted and sat up, only to blush furiously as she remembered her state of dishevelment. She hurried to rise and set her dress to rights, while Darren followed more slowly.

Once they were both marginally better attired, Darren took a moment to pick up the book he’d come for. “Shall we retire, love?”

“Aye.” Alayne was still blushing, but she managed a shy smile, before she took his arm.

Together they made the relatively short journey back to their shared quarters. Once inside, the two of them separated to get ready for bed. Darren was tempted to sleep in the nude, but in the end he wrapped a fresh kilt around himself.

Alayne joined him in the bed, wearing her night dress, and a small blush. In her hands was the book. She held it up. “I was thinkin’ I could read it tae ye, if ye’d like.”

He’d intended to offer the same, but he couldn’t deny that the idea held a certain appeal. He settled himself against the pillows and held out an arm to tug her close. “I like the sound o’ that.”

The story was an old one, a child’s story his mother had often read to him, regarding a traveler through the realms of the Fair Folk in search of his destiny, and someone to share his life with. He had many adventures over the course of the journey, fought many battles of both wit and muscles, and learned many lessons.

Darren himself had learned a great deal from the story, enough that it had continued to be a favorite, even well into adulthood.

He leaned back and watched as Alayne opened the book to the first well-worn page and began to read in a clear, strong voice. “Many years ago, in a town so small it had nae name, there lived a youth o’ surpassing intelligence and skill…”

The familiar words rolled over him, and Darren found himself relaxing, much as he had in his youth. Then his eyes began to grow heavy, and against his will, they slipped closed.

Long before the youth’s first adventure came to an end, Darren surrendered to sleep.

He awoke some hours later to find Alayne leaning against him, fast asleep. The book lay between them, open to a random page. Darren blinked to rub the sleep out of his eyes, trying to discern what had awoken him.

Then he heard it, the soft but insistent knocking on the door of his bedchamber. He frowned, then eased himself out of the bed and went to the door.

Ryan was waiting for him, his expression an odd mix of apologetic and determined. Darren scowled. “What time is it?”

“Just a wee bit past the dawn, me laird.” Darren’s scowl deepened. It was later than he’d expected, but not late enough that anyone should have come looking for him, especially since Ryan knew he’d been wounded.

“Are Adrian and Bard back?” That was his first thought. Perhaps one or the other had discovered information they felt he needed to hear at once.

“Nae me laird. But there’s something else, someone at the gates ye need tae see.” Ryan’s uncharacteristic solemnity gave Darren an uneasy feeling, as did his clear reluctance to speak any further. “I’d rather nae say more until ye’ve seen the situation fer yerself.”

Darren sighed. “Let me get dressed.” He shut the door in his advisor’s face and went to find something clean to wear.

Alayne woke to find the bed empty. She blinked at Darren’s side of the bed, the rose and peeked through the window. The morning sun was still fairly close to the horizon, indicating that it wasn’t even late enough for breakfast. Alayne frowned as she shut the window and changed into a skirt and blouse for the day.

Why would Darren be up so early? Had someone come to wake him for some reason? Perhaps his advisors had returned with more information about who had attacked him.

There was no sign of Darren in the main hall. She was wondering where he might be when a maid came up to her and curtseyed. “Me lady? The laird was looking fer ye. He asks that ye join him in his study.”

Alayne smiled. He must be busy, but he wants tae see me.

She nodded to the maid, then hurried toward the study. She was still smiling as she knocked on the door and heard Darren call for her to enter.

The smile faltered as she stepped into the room. The man who greeted her looked like her husband, but gone was any trace of good humor or softness. His face was cold and stern as he turned to look at her. Alayne blinked in surprise. “Darren?”

“Laird MacLean.” His voice was as cold as his expression. “I’ve been waiting fer ye.”

She felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. “What? Why are ye behaving this way? Last night…”

“Last night, I didnae have the information I have now.” There was no sign of any softening in his stance and his tone. Alayne found her own mood sinking.

“I dinnae understand what ye’re saying. Why are ye being so cold?”

“I’ll show ye. Come with me.” Without another word, or any sign of affection, he strode past her to the door. He opened the door and bowed stiffly. “After ye.”

“I… I dinnae ken where ye want me tae go.” She could feel herself faltering under his evident anger.

“I’ll guide ye, but I prefer tae keep ye where I can see ye.” The obvious distrust in his voice stung. Alayne straightened her shoulders and stalked past him. A hand clamped around her elbow and guided her down the corridor.

Hurt deepened to unease as he led her down the corridor to a staircase she’d never actually descended before. “Where are we going?”

“The dungeon.” That was all he said before they reached a heavy oak and iron door. Darren shoved it open.

The first thing she saw was Ryan, standing in front of a dimly lit cell.

The next thing she saw made her gasp, her heart suddenly in her throat as the occupant of the cell stepped forward into the greater light provided by the torches in the larger room.

“Hello Alayne.” Donall stared through the bars at her, his expression calm despite the bars that separated them. “I think one o’ us owes Laird MacLean an explanation.”