Chapter 9

The noise of merriment coming from the alehouse below was the background to Colleen spending her first night with a man. She could never hear the sound of wassailing again without it bringing a gentle smile to her lips.

As she suspected, despite his strength and intimidating dimensions, the mercenary was gentle with her. He confessed that it had been a long time for him as well since he had lain with a woman. When she asked him how many years, he sighed and shook his head. "Too many."

He helped her undress because her hands were shaking too much. When she was standing in her thin linen undershift, she stopped him, saying, "It would help me if ye were to leave off yer garments too, Master." Helping her step back onto the bed, he asked her if she had a preference. "Lose me feileadh-mor or my shirt, lass? Yer choice."

That made her giggle and blush, shaking her head as she dared to look at him from under her long, dark lashes. "It must be yer plaid and shirt, Master. I have already bathed yer wounds and dressed them, dinnae forget. I have seen all of ye there is to see."

Ripping off his clothes with haste, he joined her under the covers on the bed before his immense masculine presence could make her timid. "Stop calling me ‘Master' lass. In the bedchamber, I can promise that ye are the one in command."

Lying back on the pillows, he allowed her to familiarize herself with his body again. Sweetly, softly, she turned and ran her hand over his chest. Even though her long tresses covered her breasts, he was able to see the pink peaks of excitement push through her lustrous tresses when she moved closer. The maiden looked so lovely in the moonlight streaming through the window. Colleen needed no artifice or seductive movements to lure him into her thrall; he had been ready for her since she disrobed.

"Tell me what ye feel inside ye, Colleen," reaching for her shift gown, he slowly lifted it off to reveal her delicate feminine outline. She was as perfect as the new moon. Pale and unblemished. It amazed him to know that this beautiful creature wanted to cleave her body to his.

"What are ye thinking?" she wanted to know as he sat rapt, gazing at her naked body.

"I'm thinking that this might be over sooner than I planned, lass," he teased her, loving the way her lips curled up when she smiled. She was enjoying the power her body had over him.

"I will nae let ye," she whispered, "because I want this moment to last forever."

She lay down and let him take his pleasure of her body. With her hair spread over the pillows like a comet's tail, the mercenary bent his head to kiss her. At first she froze, unsure whether her body should be flooding and pulsing every time he touched her, but soon Colleen was able to relax. He could feel her body opening up in the same way her lips parted, allowing him to kiss her deeper. Moving his mouth down her neck, Arran felt her hips grind down and then elevate upward as her body hunted for its release.

"Settle doon, lass," he murmured as his mouth moved downwards, "we have all night."

But they could not hold back. She was as desperate for him and he was eager to make her his own. He had never felt so possessive and caring about any woman ever before. She was so much more than a tasty morsel for his male needs to devour. When he entered that soft, hidden part of her, it seemed to Arran as if he were reborn. It cost him all of his discipline to hold back and assure himself of her satisfaction first, but he did it because—against all odds—she made him feel like lying between her smooth thighs was his salvation.

Colleen experienced the immense pressure and discomfort once, before her rapture erased the pain.

So this is what love feels like. And why is it that now that I've felt it, I want more?

She believed it was impossible for her to be more utterly fulfilled than she was at that moment, but as the moon rose and then faded as the late summer sunrise started, their desire for one another only increased.

"I must leave," her voice was hoarse from holding back her soft moans of delight all night. "I dinnae want tongues to wag when I fail to bring herbs to the market this morn."

They had slept briefly in each other's arms, but as the day crept slowly in, there could be no more denying the fact that Colleen could not be seen by any of the villagers if she wanted to maintain the illusion of her virginity. "The MacMillan clan still wants me for David's goodwife, Arran," Colleen's body seemed to complain with aches and spasms when she tried to sit up as if it wanted to remind her what had happened during the long night. Her thighs and hips felt as if she had been trying to tame a wild stallion with a hard saddle.

He would not let her leave. "Nay, sweetheart. Stay here with me. To hell with all those gossipmongers. I am nae ashamed to make oor love for one another public."

This was going too fast for Colleen. She remembered the desperate hurt look on David's face when she spoke to him the previous night. "Ye dinnae ken Aberkin, Arran. It has long been expected for me to choose a swain from one of the local lads. After all the camaraderie ye have built up with the men over the weeks, would ye risk it all noo just for the chance to stake yer claim on me?" Catching up his hand, she brought it to her lips, still in wonder how he always managed to make her feel so good with one gentle touch. "Let us nae be too hasty lest it should put people's backs up. Go aboot yer day as normal. I will see ye at the harvest." Getting out of the bed slowly, she searched for her clothes on the floor and began dressing.

"Dinnae be daft, Colleen," Arran chuckled, "ye cannae tramp all the way home just to turn around and come straight back here again. Bide with yer man awhile and then slip oot to the market later. Tell Isla ye tipped yer wee basket o' herbs into the mud. Spin her some merry tale." He patted the mattress beside him invitingly.

Colleen had to laugh. "Ye might have all the time in the world, Master Sterling, but I do not. Home I must go. And dinnae forget to call me Maiden when we next meet!"

And with those words, she lifted the window sash and began to descend with confident, unfaltering steps. He rushed to the window, whispering as loud as he dared. "When will I see ye again? Not at the harvest, but like this?" She did not answer him until she had reached the ground and found her chopines. "Soon," she promised him. Kissing her fingertips and waving them at him, Colleen began the walk back to her cottage.

Like most womenon the day after their first bedding, Colleen had no desire to launch herself back into work with her usual gusto. Her body felt exquisitely well-used, in the best way. Whenever she thought about her secret tryst with the mercenary, her soft female mound would spasm with pleasure. No one could blame Colleen for her distraction. Her mind was preoccupied with seeing Arran again, talking with him again, and planning their future together.

She took a long leisurely bath in the burn, lying down amidst the waving river weeds like a nymph before stepping out naked onto the mossy banks and running inside. She milked the goats and fed the animals, singing while her hair dried in the light breeze coming down the hill. All she wore was a threadbare linen kirtle and a short smock. She would think about what she wanted to wear later…

The sound of horse hooves interrupted her reverie. Was it Arran coming to check on her? Had he hired a horse from the MacMillan stables? Impatient to see her love again, Colleen opened the gate a crack to peak through the posts.

"How convenient," a sneering voice remarked, "and here I was thinking that I was going to have to get one of me men to climb over this pathetic barricade of yers."

Colleen's scream died in her throat. She was too shocked to make a noise. It was Laird Torquil MacKenzie and a small troop of six soldiers mounted on horses at her gate. Colleen recognized the chieftain crest pinned to his bonnet because it had an eagle feather sticking up proudly from the top: the sign every clan chief wore with pride or with hubris, depending on their nature.

He was a stiff-backed man, with a posture that made him look as though he was fighting against the flow of everything around him. His eyes locked on her and Colleen felt a shiver go down her spine. It was not a friendly stare—there was hunger in its gleam.

Ordinarily, many women would describe the laird as good-looking enough. He was trim, well shaped, and his features were regular. The only problem was that nothing about him stood out to make him unique or riveting: his eyes were pale blue and from the way they were narrowed and blinking, it could be readily guessed that he was short-sighted. His hair and lashes held a mousey tone and his skin color was wan. He did not look healthy or kind. The cruel set of his mouth confirmed his bad temper. Gossip flooded the countryside not too long ago that he had thrown his wife out of the window after she failed to provide him with children.

Looking at his mean expression, Colleen had no difficulty believing the rumors.

One of the men dismounted and shouldered his way through the gap before pushing it all the way open. Only then did Colleen scream with desperate sorrow. David MacMillan was tied and gagged on his horse and was being made to follow his lairdship.

"Water the horses and take all the hay," Laird Torquil ordered his captain. "If she has a handcart, load it with fodder." Despite her shock, Colleen found her voice. "Leave me be, ye great coward! The horse is at Aberkin—only ye will nae go there, will ye? Ye ken we will beat ye."

He paid her no attention. "Leave the hens and goats. I dinnae have the time nor the inclination to act as a shepherd all the way home." Turning to Colleen, he asked in a lazy way, "Are yer cattle in the fields?"

Spitting out her reply, Colleen did not hold back. "I am a busy woman, Laird. I leave me cows with the dairy maid in exchange for produce. I have better things to do then milk a herd o' cattle every morning and evening!"

The laird seemed to give her a calculating look before he told his men to bring her inside. Kicking open the cottage door, he shouted over his shoulder. "And bring her lovelorn swain too. I could do with a wee bit o' entertainment."

One of the soldiers grabbed Colleen around her waist and dragged her inside. She did not protest; she knew the time for that was over. Laird Torquil stirred the cold ashes of the fire with the toe of his boot, saying, "Well, well, it looks like someone did nae cook her supper at home last night." Then he spoke to David. "Alas, ye poor romantic fool, it seems as if yer suspicions were correct."

Colleen hissed at David out of the side of her mouth. They had both been forced to sit on stools together while Laird MacKenzie stalked in front of them. "What did ye tell him, David? Why did ye guide him here?"

Grinning in a sly way, Laird Torquil moved closer. "Aye, Davy lad, why dinnae ye tell yon young beauty why we are here?"

The story came out slowly in bits and pieces, much to Colleen's horror.

David MacMillan had misgivings about where Colleen said she would spend the night. He had risen with the dawn and searched the village for some sign of the healer. He had caught sight of her walking down the lane, heading towards her cottage, so he had dashed to the stables for a horse to mount so that he could offer her a ride home. It was entirely coincidental that he also wanted to interrogate her about where she had spent the night—after all, her sister had slept over with Margaret, so Colleen might have gone to Agnes.

He had been delayed at the stables by the ferrier's son, who wanted to brag about his maidenly conquest the night before. Rushing to catch up with Colleen, David had attempted a shortcut across the back of the woods in the hope that he could circle around her. It had gone horribly wrong when he got lost, and instead of arriving at his amour's doorstep holding a posy of woodland flowers and looking dashing, he had to backtrack to his starting point, stung by nettles, sweaty, and dismayed. Rejoining the road, David had spied two men hiding in Farmer Tavish's fields. He was torn. Go forward and risk meeting the men or turn around and head back to Aberkin. The soldiers had made the choice for him. Four horsemen had trotted out from behind the hedgerows and taken him hostage as the two soldiers emerged from the wheat field in front of him.

The carpenter's apprentice was terrified. He had only been trained to confront soldiers when he was part of a group. As it was, all alone and facing Laird Torquil MacKenzie on his own, David had spilled the beans.

"What did ye tell him, David? For heaven's sake, ye should have allowed him to rip yer tongue oot before selling yer clan cheap."

David wept and sniveled. "Dinnae blame me, Colleen. He said he would launch an attack against the village and make sure to single oot me sisters and mither. I could nae?—"

Noticing the dagger-like stares Colleen was shooting at David, Laird Torquil interrupted. "All very touching, I'm sure, but wee David here did mention something that I find very interesting, Colleen. He informed me aboot the man who was hired to come here and train yon villagers. And he tells me that he was the man who attacked me troop o' soldiers."

Colleen shot David a scathing look before answering Laird MacKenzie. "Aye. We hired a mercenary. He is here to hold the peace just as he told ye. He–he is a friend of the King's and promises to keep safe the village until the King makes his ruling on oor taxes."

"And what might the fellow's name be, Colleen? I ask ye because young David here tells me the most incredulous stories aboot the man."

She found no harm in telling him Arran's name. "The mercenary's name is Arran of Sterling. And dinnae believe anything David tells ye because he's proven that he would call day night if it meant his family's safety."

A keen light came into Torquil's eye. "Ordinarily, bonny lass, I would agree with ye…" he came closer, so close that Colleen could see the pale gray color of his eyes as his gaze seemed to greedily devour her. "Who could believe the wild jabberings of a young man driven half mad with jealousy?" Colleen breathed a sigh of relief. She did not want Laird MacKenzie singling out Arran in battle. The laird's grin got wider as he saw her relax. He continued. "Except—unfortunately for ye and yer braw mercenary—I have heard rumors in the Highlands and beyond. Strange tales of a man with miraculous healing powers that give him indestructible strength. Would ye care to elaborate?"

Colleen was astonished by the young man's cowardly behavior. David had told Laird MacKenzie everything about Arran and her—that she was alone, that David was jealous about a warrior with uncanny healing abilities, and that it was Arran who had killed all of Torquil's soldiers—just because the laird said he would harm the MacMillan family. It was intolerable! David had not even stopped to think that the MacMillans were protected by an army of one hundred and fifty men in the village, while she, Colleen, only had a makeshift palisade fence to protect her!

At that, Colleen shut her mouth, clamping her lips together to show she was done. Torquil's sneer turned into a smile. "Ah! I'm onto the right scent. It seems like wee David was telling the truth." Walking around the small cottage, completely at ease, picking up small objects to inspect them before putting them back down again, the laird continued to speak.

"It is part of oor land's legends that tells us aboot such fierce warriors with the uncanny ability to heal themselves. King Arthur was provided with an enchanted scabbard and belt that ensured no wound would ever kill him. The Green Knight was said to have a spell so powerful that he was able to let a man cut off his head, but the knight would nae die from it. In fact, his body would walk to the head, pick it up, and attach it back on his shoulders! I always thought the tales to be little more than faradiddles—until now."

Turning to Colleen, he directed another question at her. "David tells me the mercenary has a talisman. Is it true?"

Still, Colleen said nothing, not even when two soldiers stepped behind her and pressed down with their hands on her shoulders. She winced, but did not flinch.

"Stop," Laird MacKenzie raised his hand. "If ye think I would allow ye to bruise such bonny flesh, ye're as stupid as young David here. I have a far better way to get the truth oot o' her."

Walking away, Torquil ordered his men to bring Colleen into the bedchamber. "Leave her hands bound behind her back, lads," he insisted, "I have nae wish for her to rake her nails across me cheeks. And take that silly apprentice to the barn so that I dinnae have to listen to any more of his sniveling drivel."

Tears flowed down Colleen's cheeks, but still she would not confirm David's story. This did not bother his lairdship in the least bit. Removing his bonnet and sword sheath with deliberate, lazy movements, and all the while keeping his gaze fixed on her body, he licked his lips. "Ye are a pretty morsel, Colleen, I dinnae doubt ye have all the village idiots panting after ye. Why isolate yerself here in the cottage? Is it that ye secretly want to be ravished?"

Colleen looked for a way out, but the window was not much more than a hole in the wall to keep the winter winds out. Carelessly, Torquil pointed at the bed while he lifted his plaid to adjust himself, getting ready to take her the way he had wanted to do so since he first saw her beautiful amber eyes staring at him through the gate posts. "Come," he ordered, "if ye please me, Maiden, I will make a place for ye beside me at MacKenzie castle."

Tears streaming down her face, Colleen moved toward the bed. She had to sacrifice herself to save Arran.