Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

E sme nearly fell off the bucket with shock. For the first time in her life, she experienced the horrible sensation of loving someone and hating them at the same time. Bruce had lied to her! He could father bairns, and he had been lying with Mackenzie in the same intimate way a man lies with a woman when he wants to implant his seed in her.

The sense of betrayal almost overwhelmed Esme as she crept away from the window, hunched over and biting the knuckles of her hand to stop herself from crying. Without noticing it, the bucket handle had hooked to the back of her kirtle. As Esme did her best to stop hot tears of anger from coursing down her cheeks, the bucket rolled over onto the yard’s cobblestones with a loud ringing clang.

It was Anna who came outside first. She came storming over to the cowering slave girl. “So, wench! You have come back here to try and take my place next to my husband in bed, haven’t you? Well, I have something to say about that!”

The next thing Esme knew, her anger at Bruce was forgotten as the two women clashed. Anna grabbed hold of one of Esme’s long brown braids and tried to swing her around the yard with it. Mackenzie and Clyde came outside to watch and the smirk on Clyde’s face told Esme everything she needed to know about the man. He believed that they were fighting over him and it made him feel superior.

“Let the wench go, Anna,” Mackenzie called out in a humorous voice. “You can’t lie with Clyde for two years anyway, not until the baby is born and weaned. Let my brother have his fun—just like I have had my fun with her lover, the Highlander.”

Sobbing, Anna let go of Esme’s braids, collapsing onto the cobblestones with despair. “You, none of you know what it feels like to try and bring a baby into the world and then have to be constantly worrying that another will replace you in your husband’s affections. My body is sore and pitiful. I get no sleep. I worry all the time about this beautiful young girl replacing me. It’s torture!”

Putting her own troubles aside for a moment, Esme placed a comforting hand on the poor new mother’s shoulder. “I never meant to cause ye worries, Mistress. I dinnae want yer husband. I belong to another.”

Clyde scoffed. “You belong to me, remember? And if your warrior lover has a problem with that, he can petition my father in the great hall. Come. I don’t want you slipping away to the stables again. This time, I’m locking you in your cottage.”

Straightening her back and giving him a scathing look, Esme said, “Ye can lock me away all ye want, but I will never willingly spread me legs for ye.”

Following Clyde down the path, Esme had a warning for the laird’s son. “Bruce does nae have to be one o’ the Eternal Warriors for him to be able to cut ye doon to size. He has years of experience in warfare, and if ye separate us, he will take that as a declaration of war!”

The man shrugged. “I reckon he’ll be plowing my sister’s fields again once he knows I’ve had you, wench. His manly pride is too brittle to handle knowing I have pricked where he has licked.”

Esme tried her best to stay true to the memory of her darling Bruce holding her in his arms as they whispered words of devotion to one another, but it was hard. If Mackenzie Fletcher was pregnant with Bruce’s bairn, Esme was not sure whether she could find the strength to go on.

The only thing she could think to say that might have the effect of putting Clyde off the idea of sleeping with her was to threaten him. “Ye dinnae ken anything aboot a woman’s feelings, Lairdsson! If Anna was to fret herself into a fever over me, she might lose the bairn. Are ye willing to risk that happening?”

Clicking his tongue, Clyde pushed Esme into the small one-room cottage and shut the door on her. But hung around long enough to whisper a threat through the door crack. “The heart can’t bleed for something the eye doesn’t see, wench. And let me promise you this; as soon as Anna has forgotten this stress, I will be back here to take my pleasure on you.”

Esme wanted to bang her fists on the door panels and shriek for help, but she knew no one would come. These people were brigands and ruffians. They might have brought the more polite and kind members of their households from the Northern lands to come and live here with them, but the bulk of the villagers were pirates and their bonded slaves. No one would lift a hand to help her if they believed her to be in trouble.

Left alone in the cottage with only the moon for illumination, Esme gave herself over to the misery of her situation. Bruce was holed up in his hiding place and in no state to do anything other than heal. Whatever had happened to make him vulnerable to hurt could not have chosen a worse time to reveal itself.

“Och, Bruce. Why did ye lie to me again? Why nae just tell me that ye lay with Mackenzie and made love to her with complete abandon? I would have still loved ye. This endless game o’ cat and mouse, I’m tired of it.”

But as hard as she tried to keep her mind off what Clyde had planned for her in the future, Esme knew the vengeance she felt in her heart was as strong as ever.

“I will pretend to accept Clyde as a lover and ask him if I can go and work in the kitchens, and then I will poison them all to death! I will stick to my original plan because—the saints help me—this is the only way to lay me poor family’s ghosts to rest.”

So when Clyde came to check on Esme in the morning, he found her biddable and sweet natured.

“I have had the night to reflect on yer proposal, master,” Esme told him with a pretty twinkle in her eye, “and I think it might be a good idea for me to accept your terms. But I hate the thought of lying in the cottage in idleness all day. Cannae I work in the kitchens instead?”

Clyde gave her a dubious look. “What brought about this change of heart? Do you know something that I don’t? Is your Highland lover dead?”

Esme made her eyes all wide and innocent. “Och, master, I hope nae! But I heard what yer sister said aboot his injuries, and I would prefer to be protected by ye noo.”

As usual, Clyde could not resist her tempting words and alluring smile. “Fine, you can work wherever you like. But mark my words, if you flee to the beachside village or try to run and hide, I will raise your protectors to the ground with fire. Do you understand this?”

“Aye, I will stay in the cliffside village.”

But when Esme went to offer help in the kitchen the next day, she found herself blocked.

“Just you head on back to where you came from, girl!” The cook waved her hands in a gesture of denial. “I don’t want your help here or anywhere else near the food.”

Her heart in her throat with fear, Esme asked why. The cook scoffed at her, addressing her remarks loudly so that everyone in the kitchen could hear. “Why? Because that great warrior, Bruce Sterling, told me that you spice the food with local ingredients. The last thing I want for the food I send up to the high table is for it to be tainted with bitter herbs and rancid salts.”

One of the kitchen helpers piped up. “They put seaweed into the bread, Mistress, and brew ale using dandelions! It’s disgusting!”

All the Norse folk working in the kitchen cheered when the cook sent Esme away. “And take your vile local foods with you, girl!” the cook shouted after Esme, “we want no part of them.”

She should have known that Bruce would make sure she could not have access to the preparation of food. Cursing softly under her breath, Esme went to the little cottage on the cliff edge to check on Bruce. Even when he was asleep, he had the power to dominate her thoughts and dreams.

Those feverish, love-fueled dreams! They were her secret shame but also her secret pleasure. The moment her mind succumbed to sleep, Esme’s body would surrender her to the most lurid dreams of Bruce.

He was prowling around the cottage, sniffing at the door, making the flimsy boards tremble as he pushed against them. She could hear him growl, a deep, rumbling sound as if he could smell her inside.

What feeling is gripping me? Why am I excited and scared at the same time? Both types of excitement flood me body; the kind that makes me heart beat faster, almost forcing me to run away, and the sort of exhilaration that causes the blood to rush between me legs.

I want to shout for him to go away, if only to protect me heart from breaking, but me mouth won’t open to say the words.

The door panels shake as the great beast outside presses to come in. That traitorous part of me body thrills for him to come inside, but I have too much pride to beg him. Shutting me eyes tight, I shake me head, locking me legs in a twist.

Finally, I manage to find me voice. “Go away! I dinnae trust ye. Ye’re more like an animal than a real man!”

The only answer I get is a loud growl. Getting up the courage, I take a wee peek through the crack in the door. Bruce, the Bear Warrior, the great immortal Highlander, slams against the thin wood panels. He wants so badly to come inside!

Me mind seems to split in two as the desire of me body wins the fight. I open the door with trembling fingers.

His dark shape steps inside, towering over me with his huge height and well-developed muscles. “I love ye, Esme. And when I love, I never leave.”

“Ye will never leave me? But where are ye noo?”

His reply is to sweep me into his arms and press impassioned kisses over me throat and lips. “I am here, sweetheart,” his rough voice reassures me. “I will always be in here.” And he touches me chest where me heart lies.

I almost faint with happiness as he lies me doon on the bed. This is what I have longed for so long. Ever since I found him in that boat as it drifted close to the shore. Seeing him lying there was like the biggest present waiting for me to open on a special day.

And he wants me. Humble and lowly as I am, he doesnae care aboot the fact that I have nae money or dowry. This man has chosen me oot o’ all the bonny lassies he has met over the last two hundred years.

So, I allow his hand to slide between me legs and caress me doon there. When I look at him, his dark clothing has disappeared and our naked bodies are entwined together.

“This is what I have wanted for so long, darlin’,” his voice is gruff with longing, “and noo I am going to take it from ye—but dinnae fash, sweetheart because when I take, I also give.”

He is almost too large for me soft feminine body to handle as he mounts me. But I am ready for him. I have never been so ready for this to happen before. I have to grit me teeth and a gentle moan escapes me throat as I feel his deep penetration, but when the rhythmic rocking of his body begins to stimulate me, I forget the discomfort as the tingling, melting sensation begins to mount inside me.

“Dinnae stop, ye braw duin,” I am gasping with rapture as his rampant body pleases me so exquisitely, “if ye stop, I think I will die from frustration.”

“Well, we cannae have that happen noo, can we?” A triumphant smile tilts his mouth as he feels the fulfillment growing inside me.

He grinds his manhood deeper, hitting that perfect spot where me body is pierced with a long glow of satisfaction. For the longest time, it seems as though the sun stops moving in the sky and all is silence.

“Aaah!” And then I am awake and alone. Me lover is only a figment of me imagination as me body craves his touch.

Esme gave a shake of her head to clear it of the images. Lifting the floorboards, she saw her love was still fast asleep. Lying on the floor to try and be close to him, Esme let her hand fall into the crawl space.

“I will nae fight it anymore, Bruce. I love ye and I cannae change that. But just because I love ye doesnae mean to say that I will put up with ye lying to me. I can understand ye foutering around with Mackenzie—the two o’ ye were together for three years after all. So, why do ye feel the need to lie aboot it?”

He did not reply. Not even a flutter of his eyelashes gave any sign of Bruce being able to hear her. But Esme felt better for being able to talk to him. She moved the ruffled hair off his forehead and settled his clothing right. Like a fairy story prince, the Highlander was just as desirable asleep as he was when he was awake. Esme could have lain there on the floor and stared at his face all day.

Pushing aside the neck of his shirt, she checked to see that the wicked wound he had received from Mackenzie was gone. Esme sighed. He might be a mighty warrior who had lived many years, but Bruce still had a lot to learn about women. There is no way that any female with power would allow a man to walk away from her if it meant a lowering of her status. It pleased Mackenzie to be known as the Highlander’s housekeeper and lover. She probably felt like she owned him.

Just like Clyde felt like he owned Esme.

Sighing wearily, Esme got up and prepared to walk back to the cottage Clyde had set aside for his mistress. Then an object caught her eye. The hilt of Bruce’s dirk was sticking out of his sporran.

She did not even have to think twice before Esme took the knife. Hiding it under her tunic, she replaced the boards over her lover’s sleeping body and left.