Chapter Eleven

Nay, Calla could not tell Rebbie how she felt about him. Nor could she tell him about Jamie.

"I'm not crying." She forced a smile. " 'Tis naught. Truly."

"You don't trust me enough to tell me?" His brows held a wee, displeased frown.

"I trust you." She did indeed trust him to protect her. And she knew he would never physically harm her. But to trust him with her feelings and her secrets was another thing entirely. Revealing those would put her son's future at risk, and she could never do that.

Once Rebbie learned how she'd used him all those years ago, he'd be angry. Besides that, he was a powerful earl, with an even more powerful marquess father. Either of them might take Jamie from her and expose her lies to parliament and the Kirk. She'd rather die than be brought before them, scrutinized and deemed a harlot, an adulteress and a liar. ' Twould be such a scandal she'd have to leave the country. She knew no one in any foreign lands, or even in England, who would help her.

She had built a house of cards, and Rebbie could easily make it all come crashing down.

"I didn't want to upset you," he murmured. "I but wanted to give you pleasure."

"You did." Surely, he knew that. Hadn't her reactions to him been obvious? "Being with you is… amazing."

" You are amazing." He kissed her forehead.

Rebbie had never experienced anything or anyone like Calla. Such intense need, desire and pleasure she elicited from him without effort. He had only to look at her to want her. But he easily saw the pain in her eyes, the vulnerabilities she tried to hide. What caused it? Her former bastard of a husband? The idiot Claybourne who was trying to capture her and use her? Whatever it was, he wanted to take the pain away.

"How much is the debt to Claybourne?" Rebbie asked.

She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze searching his face. "Why would you ask?"

"I'm a curious person. Or nosey, depending on who you ask."

She lifted a brow slightly. " 'Tis such a large sum, I'd rather not say."

"Surely, it cannot be all that much."

"Promise you'll tell no one?" she asked, the vulnerability coming back full force into her eyes.

"Aye. Of course."

"Over fifty-thousand pounds," she said in a small voice, her face tensing with anxiety.

"' Slud . Even after you sold everything?"

"Aye. As you know, I've been paying him a small amount each week, but 'tis not enough. He's already wealthy. I don't think he even cares about the money. He wants…" She bit her lip and dropped her gaze.

"You?"

She nodded. "The lust in his eyes was clear the first time we met. I thought he was going to drool."

"The bastard." Maybe Rebbie would call him out to a duel and kill him. 'Twas naught more than he deserved.

Frowning, Rebbie growled a curse and rolled out of the bed and onto his feet. He went to the fireplace and added two pieces of wood. He had to help her. Nay, he wanted to help her. She had no one else to fight for her, to support her. And to him, she was… an angel. Perfection. No one had ever touched him the way she did, not just his body but his soul.

He returned to the bed and slid between the sheets. She'd covered herself with the linen sheet and wool blanket, and he pulled them to his waist. "I'll meet with the bastard and pay him off. I'll also tell him to stay the hell away from you or he'll find his throat slit."

She shook her head. "Nay, I can't let you do that, Rebbie."

"Why not?"

" 'Tis a lot of money. I have no inkling how I would ever repay it. My position as companion to Elena does not pay very well."

"I'm not concerned about that. I simply want the whoreson to leave you alone. You've done naught to deserve such savage treatment."

"I thank you but I cannot take the money. ' Twould make me feel cheap like a—"

"Nonsense," he muttered, not liking the direction of her thoughts. "It has naught to do with what we just shared in this bed. 'Tis simply that I have money and you need some of it."

She frowned. "Is such a large amount naught to you?"

He shrugged. In truth, the amount wouldn't put a strain on him, but to say so would make him seem like a snobbish swine. "Silver is of little use sitting in a treasury. 'Tis time some of it was used." He'd spent very little. He was glad the money was there when he needed it, but he wasn't a spendthrift. His only vice was fine horses, and he had but one of those at the moment, though he intended to buy plenty more.

"You are mad," she muttered.

"Aye, likely I am. And about the paid companion position, it gores me to think about you having to work. 'Tis not right. Your husband should've been dirked."

"He was."

"What? You didn't tell me this."

"Aye." A dark shadow passed behind her eyes. "Stanbury was found stabbed and robbed in Edinburgh. In a bad part of town."

Rebbie frowned, fear for her goring him. "Claybourne did it, aye?" She could've so easily landed in the lap of a murderer.

"It crossed my mind, but I have no proof."

He hoped she hadn't been with him at the time. "Were you in Edinburgh when it happened?"

"Nay. I was at home."

"Did Claybourne contact you after that?"

"About a month later, he came calling for the remainder of what he said was owed him. He showed me a paper supposedly signed by my husband. I couldn't tell if 'twas really his signature. The seal from his ring was stamped on it in wax."

"Claybourne could've done that after he killed him."

She nodded.

"He's naught but a criminal, a murderer. And you need help. You need protection from him."

"' Twould be madness for you to become involved in this mess."

"I'm already involved. I rescued you. No doubt he has it in for me now, anyway. I'll take you to Castle Rebbinglen. 'Tis a well-guarded fortress."

"I cannot go there with you. What would people think?" Her face flushed red. "I cannot be your mistress. Glenhaven would surely seek full custody of Jamie and I'd never see him again." She looked stricken with panic of a sudden.

"I'm not suggesting you become my mistress," he said calmly. "I but want to protect you and help you pay the debt."

She squeezed her eyes closed as if she hated the very idea. "I would need to work for you to pay it back."

Rebbie glared at her. A lady simply did not work. Not one like Calla. Or at least she shouldn't. "Nay. No work. I've already decided."

She frowned. "You cannot simply decide to pay off my debt," she said firmly.

" 'Tis not your debt. 'Tis your late husband's."

"Still, you're mad to do such a thing."

He nodded. "I've often been called mad. But 'tis the right thing to do."

"I'll find a way to repay you, then. Somehow."

"Don't concern yourself over it. Besides, if Claybourne messes about too much, I'll kill him instead of paying him."

Calla blanched. "Rebbie, nay! Do you wish to be hanged?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't murder him. ' Twould be a fair fight, a matter of self-defense."

"I don't want you risking your life for me," Calla said in a forceful tone.

"Have you so little confidence in me and my abilities?"

"Nay!" She blew out a breath. "I don't want you dying because of me, nor going broke."

"Ha. I can't believe you think either would happen."

"It could."

"Well, I thank you for worrying about me." He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "But I will take care of it once you're safe back at Draughon ."

She pulled away from him and, covering herself more fully with the blanket, frowned at the ceiling.

"What is it?"

"Although I appreciate your wanting to help, I don't care for your high-handedness." She flicked him a peevish glare.

"What do you suggest then? Do you have a better idea than mine own?"

" 'Tis not so simple."

"Ah, but it can be. I'm making it simple." Missing her warmth, he scooted closer to her. "When you want something, you but only need ask me for it," he said in a gentler tone.

"I'm not asking for help with this."

Whether she asked or not, she needed help in the worst way. And he was capable of providing it. "But you did ask for my help one time, at that inn."

An adorable pink color spread over her face and the upper part of her chest and she gave him an uncertain glance, pain-filled and raw.

"I was happy to help you out then, just as I am now."

" 'Tis two far different things," she whispered.

"It matters not to me."

A knock sounded at the door. "M'lady!" a female voice called. " 'Tis time for supper!"

Calla sat up, wide-eyed. "Just a minute!" She turned to Rebbie. "Hide," she whispered.

Unmoving, Rebbie frowned. "Why ever for?"

" Shh ."

"Sounds like the housekeeper," he whispered.

She nodded.

"Do we really care what she thinks?"

"Maybe you don't. But I don't want her shooting me looks of scorn."

Women. He shook his head, gave her a wee smile, and slid from the bed. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. 'Twas not as if the housekeeper was going to crash Edinburgh society and spread rumors about them. They were in the middle of nowhere and the only people nearby were crofters. Besides, Mistress Hillman liked him and Calla. He didn't think she would start gossip.

The blanket wrapped around her, Calla approached the door. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Very well." Light footsteps hastened away.

Calla rushed back to the bed, threw down the blanket and grabbed her petticoats.

Having already slipped the shirt over his head, he belted his plaid and watched her, taking in the lush beauty of her naked curves. Arousal burned into him. Damn, but he wanted to toss her upon the bed again. Catching his eye, she sent him a mock look of censure.

Sending her a devilish smile, he shrugged. "Cannot help myself. You are a feast for the eyes." And mouth. Aye, he wanted to lick every inch of her.

Blushing, she allowed a wee smile to peep out, then donned her corset. 'Twas the sort that laced in front. How he loved the way it pushed up her breasts and created delectable cleavage. He growled, pulled her to him, and kissed the upper swells of her breasts.

"You are luscious," he hissed.

"Rebbie," she chastised in a loud whisper but couldn't hold back a wee giggle.

He pressed one last kiss to her cleavage and stood back, grinning, so aroused he was near mad with it. He helped her with her dress and they were soon ready to leave the room, though he didn't want to. He supposed the servants would wag their tongues if they stayed in bed and ignored supper.

"I'll slip out first, and go to my chamber," he said. "I'll see you in the great hall."

"Very well."

"But first..." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

***

"I'm going to take Devil out for a run. Want to go with me?" Rebbie asked Calla the next day after the midday meal in the great hall.

"Are you certain 'tis safe? What about the wolves… and Claybourne?"

"I have two pistols, if the wolves attack. I've had the castle's guards stationed on the ramparts since we arrived, keeping an eye out for Claybourne or anyone approaching. They've seen naught thus far. Besides, we'll not ride far."

Rebbie didn't know why he was asking her to accompany him on Devil's daily exercise run, but he loved the way she felt riding behind him, her arms around him. Once Lachlan and all the men arrived to help escort her back to Draughon , he would have almost no private time with her. And he found he enjoyed spending time with her, even if all they did was talk or ride a horse. Something about her smile and the way her eyes met his with trust and eagerness clutched at his heart.

"Very well," she said, "if you don't think I'll be in the way."

"Of course, you'll not be in the way." How could she even think such a thing? "Meet me at the stables as soon as you're ready."

She nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

Outside in the stables, Rebbie saddled Devil himself while the stable lads darted here and there, bringing him various items before he even asked for them. Clearly, they were not accustomed to a laird doing anything for himself. But he enjoyed saddling a horse at times. Besides, if he did it, he knew it was done right.

At least he hoped that was the case. His mind kept drifting back to Calla and their bedsport of the previous day. When he'd stripped the clothing from her body and revealed her tasty curves, he'd been near speechless. How could anyone be so beautiful? Her creamy, full breasts with their beaded rosy nipples were a carnal delight, and he wanted to do naught but suckle and kiss them until she cried out her pleasure. And the rest of her was… Saints! He couldn't think of that without hungering to rush inside and toss her upon the bed again.

He was as hard as he'd been yesterday. He ground his teeth, trying to push the irrational need away.

Though he'd yearned to spend the whole night with her, he'd forced himself to stay away. He didn't want her to think the reason he intended to help her with the debt had anything to do with them sharing a bed. It certainly didn't. He simply wanted to keep her safe from that knave. But he suspected, as she'd said, Claybourne didn't want the money as much as he wanted Calla. If that was the case, paying him off would do no good.

Besides that, Rebbie sensed she was hiding something. At times, she withdrew from him and closed herself off.

When she said naught was wrong, he didn't believe her. She was not a gifted liar and clearly dishonesty did not come naturally to her. Whatever she was keeping from him made her highly uncomfortable. He wanted to break down that wall and get to know every facet of her soul. How could he do that?

"You ken how to saddle a horse, m'laird ?" she asked behind him.

Releasing the stirrup, he turned, warmth and amusement filling him at her wee coy smile. "I do indeed. Shocking, is it not?" Finished with the task, he motioned her forward. "Come."

Once they were both mounted, him in the saddle and her on a pillion cushion made of blankets behind him, he walked the horse through the portcullis. It closed behind them. He'd already asked the guards to keep an eye on MacFadden, and to be ready to open the portcullis again immediately upon their return.

He loved the feel of Calla's hands resting at his waist but, one by one, he pulled them further around and had her clasp them in front. "Hold tight. I don't want you falling off if Devil gets rowdy."

"Very well."

As soon as he loosened the reins and tapped his heels, Devil surged forward into a gallop and then a run. Energy and excitement fairly danced off the horse.

Calla smiled, exhilaration surging through her as she held on tight to Rebbie as he and Devil took her for a wild ride across the heathery moor, the rose-colored drifts lovely amongst the bright green patches of grass. The loch glimmered in the distance, reflecting the blue sky.

Who was she? She didn't even recognize herself, participating in such breakneck adventures. It reminded her of the day before, making love to Rebbie. The risk and excitement was something she didn't usually indulge in, but she couldn't help herself. Joy and fun had been absent for most of her life, but Rebbie kenned well how to bring it back.

She had expected him to knock on her door the night before, too, but he hadn't. She'd stayed awake until late, waiting on him. Hoping. She could've gone searching for him, but wasn't one to look for trouble—and Rebbie was definitely trouble.

Had he meant what he'd said the evening before about paying the debt to Claybourne? She would love for the debt to be off her shoulders, of course. And repaying Rebbie wouldn't be nearly as torturous as repaying Claybourne. Maybe Rebbie would hire her to be his chatelaine or housekeeper at Castle Rebbinglen. She knew, as a lady, she shouldn't want such a position, but ' twould be much more tolerable than being Elena's chaperone. Besides, once Elena married, she would no longer need one. And Calla could visit with her son frequently.

The only problem was… how could she keep Rebbie from finding out about Jamie? Although Jamie's hair was much lighter than Rebbie's , he might perceive a family resemblance because Jamie's eyes were a replica of Rebbie's , as was his smile, and all would be a disaster. As long as Jamie was with his aunt and uncle, he was safe and protected, and her secret remained hidden.

When Devil finished his run, Rebbie guided him back toward the castle at a slower pace. Abruptly, he turned the horse toward the wood. Anxiety clutching at her, she glanced up at the trees. Since that dead tree had almost fallen on her a couple of weeks before, she was leery of the forest.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I'll show you." He stopped Devil and leapt off near a few boulders and bushes, then reached up to help her down. Once her feet were on the ground, he didn't remove his hands from her waist, but instead stepped closer until their bodies were flush. With soulful, deep brown eyes, he gazed down at her for a long moment. "I've been craving a kiss all day," he murmured.

She couldn't help the smile and blush that spread over her face. "So have I," she confessed in a whisper. 'Haps that made her unladylike, but 'twas the truth.

He leaned down and took possession of her lips. 'Twas no meek kiss, but one that immediately lit her passions afire. Moaning, she buried her hands in his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest. His hands beneath her derriere, he lifted her from the ground and feasted upon her mouth.

"Saints, Calla, I must have you. Now," he growled.

"Aye."

She was only vaguely aware that he laid her upon the soft, dry leaves of the forest, near the rocks. She didn't care. She only wanted his mouth upon hers, and his body inside her, claiming her.

"Rebbie." She frantically pulled at his kilt and burrowed beneath. When she grasped his rigid erection within her hand, she couldn't believe how wondrous he felt. Hard as granite.

Cursing, he dug beneath her skirts and through her layers of petticoats. Finally, his warm palms slid up her bare thighs above her stockings, then his fingers raked through the hair of her mons and rubbed in gentle circles over that most sensitive spot.

"Please." She threw her thighs apart.

"You drive me mad," he growled and wasted no time positioning himself just where she wanted him.

She lifted her hips off the ground, wishing he would hurry.

When he teased the smooth, velvety tip of his shaft against her, she thrust her hips, imbedding him partway inside her.

His forehead pressed against hers, he muttered words she couldn't understand.

"Aye. More," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his shoulders.

He drove himself deeper until he was fully within her.

"Aye, so perfect," she whispered.

"You're perfect." He withdrew and thrust again and again. Each moment, his pace increased, as did her pleasure.

"Oh, Rebbie," she breathed, meeting each of his thrusts.

Still within her, he lifted his upper body, placed her ankles upon his shoulders, grasped her hips and hammered into her like a man possessed. His jaw hard and clenched tight, his midnight eyes locked on hers, penetrating into her soul. "Want you, Calla, so damn bad," he growled.

The pleasure storming in upon her, hovering at the brink, she arched her back and waited for it, craved every ounce of pleasure he would give her. The passion broke over her, bending her to its will, showering her with tingles of euphoria. "Rebbie!"

He pounded harder against her, driving deep, taking every inch of her. The pleasure twisted through her, refusing to let her go, pummeling her with wave after wave of a near painful ecstasy.

Finally, he drove deep and held himself there, shoved hard against her, his body pulsating within her as he spilled his seed. Aye, 'twas what she wanted. Looking into his passion-filled eyes now, loving the emotion she saw there, she suspected he would see how much she loved him. But she didn't care. What they shared was beyond her wildest imaginings, beyond her comprehension. How could she feel as if she belonged to him when he'd made no formal claim on her, simply by sharing an explosive passion?

Spent, he collapsed beside her on the ground. Breathing hard, he muttered curses, Gaelic and English.

Devil nickered on the opposite side of the boulders, but she ignored him. Turning to Rebbie, she wrapped an arm around him and pressed her face to his chest. He pulled her tight against him. " Och . Damnation, Calla. You leave me speechless." Dropping silent, he abruptly turned his head. "Listen," he hissed.

In the distance, she heard the sounds of many horses' hooves striking the ground in dull thuds. Ice water flooded her veins. They leapt to their feet, adjusted their clothing and peered through the trees. Dozens of riders approached, strung in a long line across the moor. A shock of alarm slammed through her.

"Who the hell is that?" he asked. Before she could answer, he rushed her forward, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto Devil's back, then mounted himself.