Chapter 25

There was little to be done for Billie’s illness—it had to run its course—but the little that could be done helped her feel much better. With Elsea’s teas and tonics, Billie managed to regain her voice, though it still felt uncomfortable to speak at a normal volume, and the chills she had been feeling that morning had subsided.

It wasn’t so much her illness that upset her, but Domnhall’s terrible accusations. Almost an entire day had passed since their fight, and yet Billie still couldn’t stop thinking about all the hurtful things that he had said to her so easily. He never once hesitated to call her disloyal. He never once stopped to think that perhaps he was wrong, not until Billie proved it to him, which could only mean that he had been suspecting her this entire time.

She had thought this foolishness with Cameron had ended a long time ago. She would have never guessed that all that time, Domnhall still believed she would betray him like this.

At least I havenae seen him since.

It was the last thing she wanted, coming face to face with Domnhall. She had slept in her old chambers and had avoided him all day, though she didn’t know if it had been necessary. Perhaps he, too, was avoiding her.

Is this how we will spend the rest o’ our lives?

It sounded far from ideal, but what else was there to do? Besides, Billie wasn’t like Abigail—she didn’t have this burning desire to find love. She had her healing craft and her friends; she had her family. She didn’t need Domnhall or any other man.

The castle was quiet at that time of the night as Billie made her way to the kitchens. The moon, bright and round in a clear sky, shed a silver light on the castle walls in a way it never seemed to do back home. It was one of the things Billie loved about that place, how she could always see the moon and the stars on a clear night like this.

She greeted the few guards she met on her way, and for the first time in a long while, she found the kitchens completely empty. It was so late that all the servants had already retired, their chores for the day long finished, but she was glad to have the room to herself. If any servant saw her there, they would insist on making tea for her, and Billie didn’t want to burden them.

Tea was one of the things she knew how to make, at least. Elsea had given her a special blend, something to soothe her throat. When she opened the little pouch, the scent of chamomile filled the air around her. She brought a kettle of water to what was left of the fire, stoking it, and then waited, leaning over a nearby table to look through the small window on the wall.

It didn’t take long for her to notice a quiet rustling, like dampened steps that rumpled an item of clothing. For a moment, she froze, unable to turn around in her fear, but her fingers soon found the handle of a knife lying on the table. She grabbed it and took a deep breath, preparing herself for a fight.

When she turned around, she only saw Domnhall there, approaching slowly, hesitantly, as if he wanted to be anywhere else.

At first she felt relief to see him instead of Ferguson or one of his men, but of course, that was nothing but an irrational fear. How would they have come into the castle without anyone noticing? When she realized she was being ridiculous, her fear dissipated and it was quickly replaced with anger at seeing Domnhall.

“I thought I told ye I dinnae wish tae speak with ye,” Billie said through gritted teeth. The knife was still in her hand, knuckles going bone-white as she held it tightly. “I’ll be done with the kitchen soon if ye need somethin’. Until then, leave.”

“Billie…” Domnhall tried to speak, but no words would come past his lips. He only looked at Billie imploringly, his hands coming up as if to touch her, even though he stood too far. He let his hands fall by his sides once more, making no effort to come any closer. “I understand ye are furious. Ye have every right. There is naething I can say tae fix this, but I truly am sorry. I can only ask fer yer forgiveness an’… an’ fer another chance if ye wish tae show me kindness I dinnae deserve.”

“If ye ken ye dinnae deserve it, why are ye askin’ fer it?” Billie shook her head, finally letting the knife drop back onto the table. She had no desire, no strength left to fight about this with Domnhall again. The wounds were still too fresh. Perhaps with time, she could listen to what he had to say, but all she could think about now was that he didn’t trust her.

“Because… because it is the only thing I can dae,” Domnhall said. “Because if ye cannae forgive me, I will spend the rest o’ me life in misery, an’ all I will have will be the memory o’ the few happy days we spent together. We can have many more o’ those days, Billie. I ken we can. I will dae anythin’ tae see ye happy, but I am a fool, a jealous fool who couldnae see what a treasure ye are.”

Billie’s chest tightened uncomfortably as she listened to Domnhall’s words and saw the agony on his face. She had never seen him like this before, as if this was the worst kind of torture he could endure, his handsome features contorted with pain. When he approached her, she didn’t move, letting him grasp her hands tightly.

“I will spend the rest o’ me life tryin’ tae make meself worthy o’ ye,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “I… I love ye, Billie. I love ye like I have never loved anyone before an’ when I think about losin’ ye because o’ my foolishness, I cannae bear it.”

This gave Billie pause, and she frowned at Domnhall. “Ye love me?”

“I adore ye,” Domnhall said without hesitation. “Ye are the best thing in me life. If I lived me life from the beginnin’, I would accept it all again, every mistake, every sorrow, if it meant I would be with ye in the end.”

Billie was still angry. Fury welled up inside her whenever she remembered Domnhall’s cold gaze, his cruel words. But it was difficult to deny the anguish in which he seemed to be now, his shoulders slumped, his body looking so unsteady as if he was about to collapse at her feet.

Is it a mistake tae trust him?

Perhaps it was. Perhaps if she gave him another chance, he would only hurt her more, but Billie couldn’t find it in her to reject him. If he ended up betraying her once more, then she would never forgive him again. It was his last chance.

Gently, Billie reached for Domnhall, cupping his cheek with her hand as she pulled him in for a kiss. The wounded, broken sound he made when their lips met only proved to her that she had made the right choice. She didn’t want him to suffer—at least not anymore, not now that he seemed to have learned his lesson.

Domnhall’s arms came to wrap around her, hesitantly at first and then so tightly that they cut her breath short. She chuckled against his lips, running her hands up and down his arms soothingly, trying to reassure him silently that she was there and she was willing to forgive him.

“I love ye,” Domnhall mumbled again and again, so quietly that Billie could barely hear him. Her heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird, fast and erratic, the rhythm thrown off by his sweet words. “Let me worship ye like ye deserve.”

As he spoke, he kissed her jaw, her neck, his fingers fiddling with the laces of her dress. He loosened them, just enough for him to tug the neckline down enough for her ample breasts to swell over it, his lips immediately wrapping around a nipple, right there in the middle of the kitchen.

Billie didn’t even care about the location. In the short time they had been together, Domnhall had learnt her body better than even she knew it, and he knew how to drive her crazy with need and give her the pleasure she wanted. He sucked and nibbled on her nipple like he always did when he wanted to tease her, and Billie’s head fell back with a moan of his name, that familiar tingle in the base of her spine already making itself known.

It was a thrill, coupling in such a public place, where anyone could walk in at any moment, and to have Domnhall like this, so eager to please her, to show her he would do anything, just like he had promised. With a hand on his shoulder, Billie shamelessly pushed him to his knees and Domnhall went easily, smirking up at her. With the other, she braced herself on the edge of the table, tilting her hips towards him.

“Is this what me lady wants?” he asked, his hands already disappearing under her dress to caress her thighs. His touch was hot and when his thumbs swept over her folds, Billie jumped, not expecting the sudden jolt of pleasure. When he ran them back down her legs, he gathered the layers of her dress, bunching the fabric around her waist. “Me mouth?”

“Aye,” said Billie, chest already heaving, breathless. She fisted her hands in Domnhall’s hair, holding onto him as his lips followed the same path his hand had carved, kissing up her calf and her thigh before finally settling over her mound. As his tongue darted out to taste her, he groaned deep in his throat, eyes rolling back.

“Ye’re already drippin’ fer me,” he said, diving back in to lick a slow, teasing path over her opening. “I could dae this forever.”

Billie’s knees trembled and her hold on the table tightened to keep herself upright. She was lost in the gentle, silky slide of Domnhall’s lips and his tongue over her sensitive flesh, each drag of them over her skin driving every other thought out of her mind. Domnhall was relentless in his efforts, his tongue dipping inside her just enough to tease before withdrawing once more to swipe over her heated skin again and again.

When Billie tugged at his hair, the pleasure he gave her too strong to resist, a groan reverberated through him, one that Billie felt against her and which drew out a moan of her own. She was so close already, her legs shaking with the force of the pressure that kept building up inside her, a warmth that travelled down her spine to settle deep in her belly.

“There must be food left from dinner.”

The voices and the approaching footsteps startled both Billie and Domnhall, but she was the one to act first, pushing him away as fast as she could. Then again, that did nothing to help with the fact that they were both disheveled, Billie half-nude, her breasts pouring over the neckline of her dress, and Domnhall’s face glistening in a way that betrayed precisely what they had been doing.

“Come,” he whispered, taking her hand and quickly dragging her into a side door. Suddenly, Billie found herself in a tiny room full of sacks of grain, dark and dry and packed to the brim. The two of them could hardly fit in there, Billie stepping on Domnhall’s toes and almost losing her balance as they tried to keep quiet.

A giggle bubbled up her throat, but Billie did her best to suppress it, going so far as to clamp a hand over her mouth. There was a tiny window in the room, allowing in just enough light from the full moon for her to see a glimpse of Domnhall’s face and he, too, seemed close to bursting out with laughter.

She only hoped whoever was coming to the kitchens wouldnt hear them.

The steps soon became louder, as did the voices. Billie couldn’t pin a face to either of them, but they sounded like young men—guards, most likely, she thought. They had gotten hungry after their rounds and had come to the kitchen to grab some food before they headed to bed.

Billie listened to them as they walked around the kitchen, the sound of plates and chairs loud in the quiet of the room, though dampened by the door that separated them. She wished they would leave soon. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in that tiny grain storage room for hours in the middle of the night.

In the dark, Billie felt something brush against her, and she almost yelped with fear. She barely managed to muffle her cry, when she realized what it was: Domnhall’s finger, tracing over her nipple. As much as she wanted to berate him for it, she could only roll her eyes silently, though she doubted he could see the gesture.

Soon, that finger trailed its way up her shoulder, then down her back. For a moment, Domnhall’s hand wrapped around her rear, squeezing a handful, and his ragged breathing was so loud in the small space that Billie feared they would be heard. The guards at the other side of the door were none the wiser, though, as they never once stopped their conversation.

Billie had half a mind to tell Domnhall to stop, to grab his hand and still it, but it felt too good for her to protest. She was still overheated by his previous ministrations, her body aching for release, so when he reached under her skirt once more and entered her with two fingers, his other hand clamping around her mouth to keep her quiet, all she could do was melt against him and roll her hips, asking for more in the only way she could.

Deprived of her sense of sight as she was, it seemed like all her other senses were sharper. It didn’t help that the thrill of getting caught only fed her desire, making every touch feel new and more intense, the slide of Domnhall’s fingers feeling better than ever before.

Domnhall worked her quickly, his hand thrusting hard and deep inside her. Billie was helpless to this pleasure, taking everything Domnhall was giving her as her hands reached for him, holding onto his arm for purchase. His breath was hot and labored in her ear, his body like a solid wall behind her, his manhood swelling against her backside. Every pump of his fingers had Billie bouncing on her heels, her breasts finally spilling out of her dress entirely.

Her climax was like a wave, pulling her under with no warning. The only thing that kept her from screaming was Domnhall’s hand, pressed securely over her mouth as she clenched around him, her entire body trembling for what seemed like minutes.

When she finally recovered, Domnhall was rubbing her shoulder gently and pressing kisses to her neck. Outside, the kitchen was quiet, the guards already gone.

“Are ye back with me, lass?” Domnhall asked, sounding amused by the state in which he had managed to bring her. Billie gave him a half-hearted slap, having no energy for anything else.

“I cannae believe ye did this,” she breathed, letting out a shaky laugh.

“I intend tae take ye in every corner o’ the castle,” Domnhall said with a roll of his hips. “First me study, now the kitchens… perhaps the library next?”

“Perhaps another night,” said Billie. She could only handle so much excitement in one night. “Fer now, take me tae bed.”

Even with their argument resolved, Domnhall couldn’t help but worry that Billie still held some resentment towards him. He wouldn’t blame her if she did; what he had said to her wasn’t something easily forgiven, so how could he ask her to forget all about it?

That morning, though, he didn’t have the luxury of time to sit in his study and mope over it. The men Laird Robertson and Cameron had gathered for him had already arrived and there was too much to be done. He had to make sure they were all properly trained and knew the lay of the land. He had to make sure they all had food and quarters where they could sleep, and that they were informed of their strategy.

But what is our strategy? All we can dae is wait.

Domnhall’s council had advised him it would be unwise to start a war. It was better, they thought, to be prepared for one but to not go out seeking it. They had to let Ferguson come to them, to have him attack first.

He wasn’t certain if he agreed with this plan, but everyone, including Hugo, seemed to think of it as the lesser of two evils. Starting such an expedition would not only be risky, but also costly, and besides, they were several steps behind Ferguson. They didn’t have spies in the man’s territory. They didn’t have scouts or anyone who could advise them on the best points of attack. They would need months of preparation for such a thing, Domnhall knew that well.

And yet, sitting in the castle and waiting for an attack hardly seemed ideal. Domnhall had never felt so useless before and the wait was making him agitated, keeping him looking over his shoulder day after day.

It would come, eventually. He knew it would. He also knew it would almost be a relief after all that time spent idle.

Domnhall spent the entire day with the soldiers and his council, making sure everything was in order. His men assured him there was nothing to be concerned about, but he could see the apprehension in their eyes, he could hear it in the way they hesitated with their answers. As they sat in his study, Domnhall often caught Hugo’s gaze and even he seemed uncertain, his usual cheerfulness gone and replaced by a somber frown.

It wasn’t often that Domnhall saw him like this, and it was that, more than anything else, which concerned him. Did Hugo doubt they could win? Or was he simply—like everyone else—buckling under the weight of an uncertain future?

Neither of them had time to speak after all the meetings that day. It was late at night when Domnhall was finally finished, and though he could have asked a guard to wake one of the servants so that he could have something to eat, he decided against it. Instead, he headed to the kitchens on his own, knowing there would be something left there by Mrs. Campbell for anyone who cared to look for it.

The place was empty once again when Domnhall stepped into the kitchens. Everyone had long retired. Save for the guards who were making their rounds, he was perhaps the only one awake at that time of the night. Just as he expected, though, there were Bannocks, cheese, dried meat, and a bowl of fruit by the window.

Domnhall busied himself with the food, grabbing a little bit of everything, and then looked at the table, but he didn’t feel like sitting there. It was a warm night, warm enough for him to sit outside for a short while, so he carried his plate out of the back door of the kitchens, to the side of the courtyard where he didn’t often go.

For the second night in a row, the sky was clear and the moon hung bright and big in the ink of the night. Domnhall leaned against the wall and watched the stars as he nibbled on a bannock, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to Ferguson and the attack they were all expecting.

He didn’t hear anyone approach. He didn’t see any shadow, that part of the courtyard so dark it would have been impossible to. The only sign he had that something was wrong was the sudden pain that erupted in his head, spreading from his temple all the way around his skull and then down the base of his neck.

And then, there was nothing.