Chapter 14

There was a nagging feeling in Jane's subconscious that gnawed at her. She silenced it. She had never done anything spectacularly out of character in her eighteen years of existence. Save things that were insignificant, she had never really given in to any desire that was far removed from the code of morality of the society that she had been born into, of the code of morality that her father had set. She had done her best to be on the right side of things, but she had gotten in trouble regardless.

Now, save reuniting Eleonor with Ramsay, she had no greater desire than to lie with Alistair, to share the same space with him and become one with him. She would think about the rightness or wrongness of it later on.

And so she gave herself fully to the kiss that he pressed upon her lips. She tasted him, held him, clung to him. She felt his hands on the laces of her gown. If she was in her right senses, she might have requested that he be careful, as this was another borrowed dress of Catrina's. Jane found the dresses that the older woman had loaned her easier to wear than her own clothes. In addition, they were more colorful.

Alistair pulled back and looked at her, his brow furrowed. "Where is yer mind, lass?" The word gave Jane an irrational thrill. "I was thinking about… clothes," Jane said with an impish smile.

"Clothes? Ye are thinking about clothes while I am kissing ye? Perhaps ye want me tae stop?" He started to pull away, but Jane held on to him. Then, her eyes still on him, she reached for his kilt.

He chuckled. "Indecent thoughts indeed," he murmured against her lips. "Ye wanted this from the start." He gently pried her hands away and then undid the kilt himself, so that he stood before her unclad. Curiosity got the best of her and Jane looked down.

The sight that greeted her eyes filled her with shock and worry. She knew of the bare mechanics of copulation, which made this very worrisome indeed.

"It worries ye." Alistair said into her ear while he pulled down her dress so her breasts were exposed. "It shouldnae. I will be very, very gentle with ye. Dinnae think at all. Only feel." Jane nodded at Alistair's reassurance. She knew that he would not hurt her, not intentionally at least. The apprehension she felt at the sight of his member was in no way comparable to the excitement that coursed through her now. She wanted to feel all that there was to feel. And she wanted to feel it with Alistair.

"Ye are bonny, Jane," Alistair said, his eyes on her breast. "Beautiful." He bent down and captured one nipple in his mouth. Jane moaned and clutched at his head. Ah, but she had missed this. Alistair pulled down her gown until it was a puddle at her feet. His lips moved to the other breast as he pulled her slip down. And then he carried her to her bed. He kissed a path from her breasts to her belly to the tangle of curls at the apex of her thighs. Jane started. She sat up and tried to push him away, but he would not be budged.

From between her legs, he looked directly into her eyes. Had the setting been different, Jane would have sworn that there was a challenge in his eyes. He then bent over. At the first flick of his tongue, Jane keened. She locked her legs together, so that Alistair was trapped between them, and she clamped her hands over her mouth. As he probed her, she found herself arching more and more off the bed. Alistair covered her with small kisses, reached above to rub her shoulders in assurance, and the resumed his assault on her senses. He licked and sucked, lazily, then faster, then slow again, flicking his tongue, increasing the rhythm until Jane felt her legs spasming and she was gasping. She knew now that she was falling over that edge she had reached last time. Ans once again, when she climaxed, uncontrollable tears streamed from her eyes. She buried her face in his shoulder as he went to embrace her to muffle the sound. He then brought her face to his. His lips were glistening with the moisture of his labors. Her moisture. The thought was sufficient to drive any woman wild. "Why are ye hiding yer pleasure, me lass?"

Jane thought it was a rhetorical question, but Alistair looked as though he required an actual answer. "The others… in the castle… they'll hear."

Alistair chuckled. "They can hear nothing. And if they could, what would it matter? I am told that our attraction is blatant."

"Oh," Jane said, surprised "And of course they fault ye fer bedding an English woman."

He silenced her with a kiss. "Jane," he said, after he pulled away from her. His fingers insinuated themselves between her legs. He stroked her, and already sensitive from her climax, she felt herself climbing again. She grew out of breath. And through it, he watched her.

"Jane," he said again, more insistently this time.

"Alistair."

"When we are taegether, naething else matters. The castle, the matters of state. England, Scotland. Naething. There is ye." He brought the hand up and sucked on his thumb. This made Jane's breath catch. He returned the hand and continued the stroking. "And there is me. Dae ye understand?"

"Y-yes." Jane whispered breathlessly.

"Tell me what I just said then." His thumb was faster now, and Jane struggled to form words.

"That there is only you and me!" she squeaked in one desperate breath.

"Good girl." Alistair said, just as Jane's world shattered again into a million bright pieces.

He waited for her shocks to subside. He was smiling at her in a way that made her heart flutter. He was the fiercest of warriors and also the tenderest of men. The irony shook Jane. And yet, she was more than grateful for it. She felt happy to see this side of him, this side that many would never know.

"Sweetling," he whispered in her ears, "this will hurt ye a little."

"I know," Jane said, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"No, look at me," Alistair instructed. Jane obliged. "I would never cause ye pain intentionally, Jane," he said earnestly.

Jane nodded. "I know."

"Ye are sure ye want this?" He asked again, wanting to be sure.

"Yes," she whispered.

Alistair gave her nipples love bites in turn. And then he positioned himself against her opening. He entered her slowly, his eyes fixed on her face. She gasped in surprise at the strangeness of it, but also the intensity of the feeling. He pushed a little more, and she felt a twinge of pain but she was not scared and she looked into his eyes and nodded. When he pushed past her maidenhead, she winced, but that was all. He began to move slowly, giving her time to adjust. Slowly, Jane felt the excitement growing in her and she and began to move with him. She felt that familiar stirring again, and wondered at her body's ability to quicken, again and again, to Alistair's touch. She did not hide her pleasure this time. She moaned and gasped as he groaned into her ear, intensifying the feeling for her. When she started to tighten on his manhood and screamed out his name he thrusted deep into her one last time and then swiftly pulled out of her and spent himself on the bed. When he looked at her, she was smiling shyly. "Is that… is that what makes babies?"

"I hereby make a rule as laird of the castle," he announced, making a show of pouncing on her so that she squealed and rolled to the other side of the bed. "There shall be only loving. We shall reserve talking fer the fields or the dinner table or the forest. And maybe the bath chamber." He paused. "Nay, there shall be nay talking in the bath chamber, either."

Jane giggled. "Surely you do not mean that. So I cannot talk to you in the hallway, or in the kitchen, or by the lake?"

"The thought of us meeting in the kitchen is quite wild," Alistair said. "You are a captive, and I am the laird."

That reminder would have brought reality crashing down on Jane in normal circumstances, but these circumstances were not normal at all. She was sated and resplendently happy. "Very well," she said. "I make a rule then, too."

Alistair chuckled. "Ye cannae dae that. It is me castle."

"But in this moment, we are sharing a bed, so I get to make a rule as well."

"Typical Englishwoman. Wanting tae take things nae belonging tae ye."

The smile on Jane's face died.

Alistair sat up and said earnestly, "That was a joke, Jane. Purely a joke. Ye must believe me. Of course ye can make rules in our bed."

Jane was silent.

"Sweetling," Alistair coaxed. He gave a love bite to her shoulder and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Jane squirmed against him, and when he looked in her eyes the light had returned to them.

"My first rule," Jane said, doing her best to sound like a king, "is that there shall be no mention of the English-Scottish war."

"A most wise choice, me liege," Alistair said with a mock bow. "Will ye be making any more rules today?

"Do not rush me, Sir Alistair!" she snapped.

"Never, never!" Alistair exclaimed, putting on a rather pitiful show of being subservient. Jane burst into laughter and Alistair watched her, a look of delight on his face. "I do hope the next rule ye make is that I can ravish ye as much as I want," he said, tracing her lips.

Jane seemed to mull over that for a moment. "You know what, Ser Alistair?" she said.

"What, me lady?"

Jane grinned and locked her hands behind his neck. "That might very well be my next rule."

Minutes later, they lay in bed, limbs entwined. "If I were allowed to speak," Jane said softly, "I might have told you something that would please you."

"You may speak," Alistair returned, a smile on his face, "but only this once."

Jane caressed his cheek. "You are a very, very handsome young man, Alistair," she said.

Alistair grinned. "Is that so?" He sat up, and his gaze examined her body without the least bit of inhibition. Jane resisted the urge to hide herself. "Well, ye are a very, very beautiful young woman."

"I was not looking for compliments." Jane said.

"I didnae pay ye one, lass. I merely told ye the truth." Something on Jane's leg seemed to catch his attention, for his gaze lingered there. "Ye have an interesting birthmark," he said to Jane, his eyebrow raised. "I have a similar one, in the exact area as yers."

"I know," Jane said. "Do you believe in magic, Alistair? In soulmates, fate, and things like that?"

"Aye," Alistair said.

"I believe the birthmarks mean something. That we are kindred spirits, bound in some way. They cannot be a mere coincidence. What do you think?"

Alistair grinned. "That I should probably taste yours." He bent to her leg and pressed kisses on the birthmark.

"You are a wild, indecent man," Jane said with a laugh.

"Aye," Alistair agreed. "And from the looks of things, you like wild indecent men."

* * *

The birthmark on Jane's thigh had surprised him, although he'd tried not to show it. How was it that two people, borne of different parents, in two different countries, had the same mark in the exact same place?

When Jane asked if he believed in magic, he'd said yes. His answer might have been different if the question had come a few days before. He was not oblivious to the workings of the spiritual arts, light or dark. In his father's time, people who were accused of practicing black magic had been brought to judgment. His father had always declined to judge such matters and had in some way or another worked his way around it.

And he had heard of healers whose powers transcended the roots and herbs that they fed their patients. They were one with benign spirits, it was said, spirits that granted them the capacity to cure even the direst of sicknesses.

And he had witnessed the events that the witch of the Highlands had set in motion, which had led to the death of two able-bodied men within days of each other.

When it came to the matter of fate, warriors were taught to make their own. The thought of stars laboring in the heavens to determine one's destiny was a lazy one. Scottish warriors pushed themselves to the limits and beyond it. There were fearless in life and looked death boldly in the face.

And concerning soulmates, he had not believed it until he had met Jane. He immediately knew that the connection he felt to her was not ordinary. From the first moment he had seen her, he had felt a stirring that was too deep to be plain desire. It was as though he had known her all his life. And while he had teased and tested her, it had given a certain thrill to his soul. Eliciting reactions from her gave him an inexplicable joy. And sharing her body had been rhapsodic. Bringing her pleasure had given him a kind of pleasure that he had never felt before. Something in her called to him, pulled him. If he was not careful, he would fall. Helplessly. Hopelessly.

"What are you thinking about?"

Alistair snapped back to attention. Jane's green eyes were fixed on his face. She looked a little worried. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Nay," Alistair said quickly. "I was just lost in thought."

Jane bit her lip, a simple gesture carried out without thought but which rekindled the fire within him. "What were you thinking about?" Jane asked.

"Ye," Alistair replied.

"And what about me? I am right here in your arms. You need not think about a person who is right in your arms."

"Oh, but ye can," Alistair. "I was thinking of how lovely you look, and how very much I love your eyes."

"Is that right?" Jane asked with a sultry chuckle.

"Yes," Alistair returned. "And how much I cherish these." He nipped at first her right breast, and then her left.

The sultry chuckle again. "Are you in earnest?"

"Yes, Jane Marsh of England."

"Well, is that all?"

"Hardly," Alistair replied, and his index finger and middle finger charted a course from her breasts to her belly to the V of her thighs. "And how much I-"

Jane jumped right before he touched her nubbin of flesh. Alistair looked at her in confusion. "I must go now, Alistair." She came to her feet and picked her dress up from the ground.

"Have I offended ye, Jane?"

"What?" she paused pulling on the dress to say. "Of course not. It is just that… we need more plants for your medicine. They wither if they are gathered in large bunches, you see, and that is why I harvested only a little at first. I must go now."

"Jane, I am certain that if ye stayed an extra minute, the plant would still be waiting fer you," Alistair said.

"Well, yes," Jane said as she put one hand through a sleeve, and then the other. "But why do late something you can do early? You are a warrior. Surely you understand the importance of time."

"What has come over you?" Alistair asked.

"Nothing," Jane said, and walked to him. She bent to kiss his cheek and pulled away. "You must rest, Alistair, if you want to truly heal."

In the blink of an eye, she was out of the door. Alistair stared after her for the longest time.

* * *

Jane sat on a chair in the library, as she had left Alistair in her bed, deep in thought. The happenings of the last hour seemed surreal to her. She had bedded Alistair within mere days of knowing him!

Oh, it had been glorious! She had always wondered at the nuances of lovemaking, and he had shown her more than enough to last a lifetime. He had been gentle and reverent but also lusty. He had given, and he had taken. Unashamedly. As though their joining were a simple, regular thing. She had been lost under him, unable to think, capable only of feeling. Every time his blue eyes had met her green ones, she'd felt like he was looking into her soul.

And she had wanted him to. Heavens forgive her, but she had wanted, in those moments, to be joined to Alistair in every possible way.

But now the reality of what she had done had hit her. Hard. She was no longer a virgin. And she had to be one of she was to be married to Commander Pierce. There were some men that did not care much for virginity, but she could bet against anything that Commander Pierce was not one of them. She had made the very mistake that Eleonor had made. She'd given herself to a Scot. It did not matter that he was a handsome, powerful Scot that had the ability to gaze into her soul. What was she to do on her wedding night? How was she to avoid ridicule?

She comforted herself by reasoning that the bridge would be crossed when she got there. But for now, she needed time away from Alistair.

* * *

Just before she had entered the library, which took her a while to find, Catrina had told her that Alistair was to speak to his warriors about a plan of attack against the English.

Catrina had then told her she was busy supervising the cutting up of a stag that had been caught for supper, so Jane had no hope for company. She would go back to the lake where she and Campbell had gotten the last ingredient for Alistair's tea from alone. It reminded her of home. The herb grew on the Marsh fields and gave off a fragrance that was both citrusy and gingery when its stalk was broken, and it stung the eye upon exposure to it. It had been her and Eleonors's weapon of choice when one of the children of the serfs on the Marsh property had called Jane a she-devil because of her eyes and wanted to see them up close.

Jane had almost as good as secured Alistair's consent to return to the lake (for he hadn't exactly declined, had he?). And so, Jane walked into the kitchen. When Catrina looked at her, she did a double take.

Jane frowned. "Is anything the matter?" she asked the woman. Could Catrina see that she had spent a great part of the morning engaged in lovemaking with Alistair? As a child, she had been told that older women had a way of knowing girls who had turned wayward.

"Oh, no," Catrina said with a quick smile. "Dae ye need me fer anything, Jane?"

"Oh, no, it's just… I was thinking of visiting the lake, The same one that the healer and I went to yesterday. It was so calm, and so beautiful. I also wanted to get more of that herb I used for the antidote, just in case."

"Oh, you've asked Alistair, then?"

"Yes," she said.

Catrina cocked her head. "And the laird gave his consent?"

"I might have suggested that you ask to make sure it is the truth, but, like you said, he has a meeting with his men."

"Something tells me that the laird would welcome any news about ye, even in the middle of a military meeting."

Jane said nothing but hoped secretly that it was true.

"But that would nae dae at all. I trust that ye wouldnae lie tae me, Jane Marsh," Catrina said with a thoughtful look. "The lake Argyle is only a short distance away. I suppose ye can go. But I must send a soldier with ye, just in case."

A few minutes later, Jane was in front of the castle, a rather unwilling young warrior behind her. "Dinnae stay too long," Catrina said. "Or you will miss supper. It would be a tragedy, fer I have nae seen a deer this big in almost ten years!"

"I shall not tarry," Jane promised with a smile, and began to walk. The warrior followed at a respectful distance. Suddenly, Jane heard the familiar trot of a horse. "Go back, Tasgall," she said without turning.

"Maither said I am tae protect ye, just like I protected ye and Campbell yesterday."

"Is that right?" Jane said.

"Aye," the lad returned. "Why are ye walking?"

"Aye, I would like tae ken that, too," the warrior sulked. He was not much older than Tasgall, and looked like someone for whom dissatisfaction was a constant. Jane and Tasgall said nothing to him.

"Because I like to walk," Jane said to Tasgall. "When you walk, you see things that you may miss on a horse or in a carriage."

"Oh," Tasgall said. "There's not much tae see so I'll still choose the horse."

"That is your choice, and it is brilliant," Jane said.

Tasgall frowned. "I ken ye are only teasing me, but it is all right. Maither says ye have tae take good-natured bamming from family."

Jane stopped abruptly. She then pasted a smile on her face and said, "That is a lovely thought, and your mother is right, but, Tasgall, we are not family. And I do not say this with condescension or any such thing. I would be more than happy to have a family quite like yours. But I do not belong to your family."

"Well, nae yet, true," Tasgall said. "But soon, when ye marry Uncle Alistair."

Jane inhaled sharply. "Why would you think that I would marry your Uncle Alistair?"

The child chuckled. "Ye all think I am a child, dinnae ye?"

Jane had no idea what to say to that, so she kept mum. They walked in silence for a while. Just like yesterday, Jane was stared at as she passed. Not with malice, just ill-concealed curiosity. Jane kept her head high and continued to walk. It was about ten minutes away from the castle's gate on foot. It was a beautiful lake, situated just before the hill that everyone had to navigate to get to the Fletcher castle. Its water was the purest blue, and it was surrounded with a watercolor of plants and flowers.

Jane spied the boulder that she had seen yesterday, and she spread her skirts around it and sat on it. And then she watched the water, shimmering in the sun.

"Is this all ye will dae, then?" Tasgall asked from a distance away. "Just stare at the water?"

"No," Jane responded. I will pick the herb that helped the laird get better and pluck some flowers that'll be a nice addition to the dining table."

"Englishwoman," Tasgall giggled. "I shall stay far away, just in case ye want to bathe."

"No, I do not want to bathe." Jane assured him. "If I had wanted to, I would have said so. Also, lakes are not to be bathed in. That is what bathrooms are for." She sometimes forgot that Tasgall was just a child, because he was so tall. But he had already disappeared.

Jane looked at the warrior, who was staring at her in dissatisfaction. "And you?" Jane said. "Perhaps you want to keep your distance too?"

He snorted and began to walk in Tasgall's direction. Jane thought of calling him back, asking him the reason for his angst, and assuring him that she was not his enemy. But what good would that do? She sighed and stared at the water. She was still a little sore from her morning activities. The memories flooded her mind, and she blushed. She hoped that whatever strategy was being developed in the meeting would bring Eleonor and Ramsay together without tearing her and Alistair apart. She could not imagine living very far away from him. She could not imagine standing by another man's side, having another man touch her, having another man plant a baby in her…

The thought made her sick.

Then, a hand was clamped over her mouth. Her eyes flew open and she struggled, but it was no use. The hand was swiftly replaced by a cloth. She felt it tighten at the back of her head, and she felt herself being pulled up, even as she kicked and flailed. She was lifted bodily. She had only a moment's glimpse of her captor's uniform. He was an English soldier. Perhaps her father had sent him to recapture her? Or was it Commander Edward Pierce? Then why did he manhandle her so? No honorable soldier of the King would treat a woman this way!

She drummed on his back, but this seemed to have no impact on him. "If you carry on like this," he hissed, "I shall have no choice but to slit your throat."

Jane stopped her protests then. Something was horribly wrong. Where was the warrior when she needed him? How far away had he gone? And Tasgall! She was happy at least that he had chosen to give her some distance. She could never forgive herself if any harm came to him on her account.

Suddenly, as though her thoughts had conjured him up, she saw him over the little hill close to the lake. He was far way, so she could not see the expression on his face. She wished she could speak. She would have told him to run and get Alistair. She saw Tasgall turn, and then the warrior appeared. He stared at Jane and her attacker. Even from this distance, Jane saw the war going on inside of him. On one hand, he hated her because he hated the British. On the other hand, keeping her safe was as good as an order from Alistair himself.

To Jane's relief, he charged, his lips emitting a chilling battle yell.

An ax appeared in the middle of his chest.

Jane's eyes widened in horror. The warrior appeared stunned for a moment, only a moment, before he dropped to the ground.

Jane screamed.

Tasgall, who had remained at a far distance, turned his back to her and disappeared. Jane said a prayer in thanks. What would happen to Catrina if her only child died protecting Jane? She would hate her forever.

"I will not waste a perfect axe on a Scottish corpse," the man said, and he dragged Jane until they came to the warrior's fallen form. With his boot, he kicked at him until the axe was in view. He bent to retrieve it, and it left the warrior's body with a sickening squelching sound.

Jane gasped. The soldier dragged her back in the direction from which they had come. He roughly flung her atop his horse and mounted behind her. Suddenly, a piece of cloth wad bound about her wrists. Jane protested by moving her hands around, but the soldier was brutal. He squeezed her left hand as though he intended to crush it, and Jane yelped. With her weakened, he then bound her arms successfully. His hand went around her waist, which made her skin crawl, and he kicked the horse into a punishing pace.

It did not help that Jane was still a little sore. She winced. Then she wriggled in an attempt to free herself from her attacker's hold. Surely, she could fall to the ground and begin to run? It was not the brightest of ideas but it was the only one that presented itself at the moment. She could not go to wherever he was taking her. With all the strength Jane could muster, she pushed at the soldier.

The result? Nothing. He was hard as a rock.

He sneered at her and boxed her on the head. She yelped. They rode for hours, even when it began to rain. Jane felt it soak into her clothes and touch her skin. The moisture made the uncomfortable trip even more so. It seemed like there would be no end to the riding. The horse was becoming slower, but it's rider only whipped it more and more into submission. Jane thought about how Alistair would never do this. He was kind to his stallion. Kind to everyone except those who had made themselves his enemies. If only he could save her! She was aware of the peril she was in. If she was taken to Commander Pierce and the soldier explained the circumstances under which she was found (in good health and picking flowers, for goodness' sake), the commander would accuse her of cavorting with the enemy. He would use her harshly and send word about her betrayal to her father in England. She might then be kept under lock and key, her life, as she now knew it, over before it even began.

She must try once more.

The blow to the head still throbbed faintly, but she did not care. Her plan was to hurl herself down from the horse. How far she would be able to run, she did not know, but she spotted what looked like a cave to their left. The horse was galloping at high speed, which meant that it would take it a while to, at the command of its master, stop and turn.

Suddenly, her attacker brought the horse to an abrupt stop. Jane frowned in confusion. She heard the glint of metal and suddenly there was a blade pressed against her throat. "This is no ordinary blade," the soldier drawled. "It is tinged with wolfsbane. One cut, and you'll be dead in a matter of hours. It would be an agonizing death, would it not, here in the middle of nowhere, with no one to help you? Scavengers will pick the flesh off your bones until there is nothing left. Is that what you want?"

Jane sat still, her heart beating hard in her chest. Unless His Majesty's soldiers were now mandated to add poison to their cache of weapons, she may very well be in the arms of the soldier that had almost killed Alistair. Her skin crawled, and it was made worse when the soldier said, "I will take you back to Commander Pierce. I will be hailed as a hero as opposed to being regarded as the fool that let that bastard Scot get away. So you see, madam, you must stay very, very still, and be very, very cooperative."

So, she was right! This was the soldier that had almost killed Alistair! Jane straightened her back, the only move of defiance she could afford in this position, trying to keep her hatred from boiling over. The horse began to move again, and Jane began to think of all the options of escape that were open to her.

Again, her initial plan came to mind. Could she throw herself off the horse and begin to run, like she had done with Alistair's company? No. That would not work. They were now on even terrain, so the horse would have the ability to stop in the fraction of a second, and he would slit her throat like he had threatened to. Could she find a way to get the knife from him and brandish it while she ran? Could she, if she managed to get hold of the knife, use it on him?"

The horse stopped, putting an end to her thoughts. "I have had a thought," the soldier said against her ear. Jane's skin crawled.

Th hairs on Jane's body stood on end. "You wouldn't dare!"

The man chuckled. "Wouldn't I? We would just have to blame it on the Scots, wouldn't we? Savage barbarians, they'll take anything in a skirt. And you… you're better than ‘anything'." She did not see it coming. He threw her against the grass and followed swiftly with his own body. He covered her, and the smell of unwashed clothes assaulted her nostrils. She strained against him, but he weighed far more than she did. Roughly, he drew her skirts up. With all the strength that she could muster, Jane gave him a kick in the testicles. He wailed and rolled off her, clutching his wounded parts. Jane rushed to her feet and began to run as though her life depended on it, for it did. She knew that, even with his incapacitation, he was following her, for she heard his stream of vituperative curses getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, it stopped, but Jane did not dare look back.

She tripped on something and fell. She swiftly scrambled to her feet and began to run again. But curiosity got the best of her, so she looked back, still running.

She ran into a man's solid form.