Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

" M other, perhaps ye ken where Lorena went so early?" Sophia asked, wrapping a woolen shawl around her shoulders.

She and her family had been awake through the night, anxiously awaiting news of Kendrick's return from the Mackenzie clan lands. As soon as there was a knock on the door, she had run out of the manor to receive the message from the servant who had delivered it.

"The Laird's journey was triumphant! He has only a few wounded warriors," she had cried at the top of her voice, skipping happily about. It was only when she had finished with her merriment that she realized her whole family had been staring at her in astonishment.

"Ye really must return to the Laird's castle," Lorena had said with a shrug before retiring to her room. Emilea followed her. Next was her father, who was trying to hide the obvious happiness that shined on his face.

Only her mother remained, and they both hugged each other and laughed their relief over a serving of tea long into the night.

Sophia awoke rather late, feeling a little sickly from the late night. It was then that the sudden thought hit her: she should send a collection of herbs to Lewis for whatever wounds Kendrick and his men had suffered in their fight.

She abandoned her breakfast and quickly ran up to dress for gardening. She donned a striped Arasaid, fixed her hair in a bun, and took with her an extra plaid to keep away the cold. On her out, she ventured into Lorena's room to inform her of her plan only to find that her sister was not in her room, nor anywhere else in the house.

"Nae, Sophia," Blair had answered, finishing Sophia's breakfast. "She only said she would be back quickly before she left."

"Oh… I will be out in the woods, then. I need to fetch some herbs."

Blair looked at her with suspicious, glaring eyes. "For the Laird?"

Sophia could feel her face twist into a sheepish smile. "Aye, Mother—for the Laird."

"Will ye be going to the keep, then?"

"Nae, I will send it over to the healer there. He kens what to do with it."

"Yer father forbids ye from going into the woods!"

"Mother!" Sophia exclaimed. "Dinnae say it so loudly—and please , dinnae tell Father I've gone into the woods."

"Ye want me to lie?"

"Nae, just dinnae tell him," Sophia finished pleading with her mother, then gingerly snuck outside.

She strolled down the path and reached the road before the manor. She grinned as the bright sunlight made her skin prickle over. A soft wind blew through the leaves. Sophia reached her hands up as if to seize the sun.

There ye are.

She giggled to herself. Kendrick had always bragged about bringing the moon, but little did he know, the sun could be imprisoned in just the same way.

"I will surely tell him of this achievement!"

Suddenly, her hand fell from the sky, crestfallen.

No, she wouldn't. She would never get to tell him anything, even if she wanted to. The most she could do was send herbs to the keep when there was a fight or when he was sick. That was the most closeness she would allow to exist between them.

"Milady!"

Sophia twisted her head to find a tall, slim, brown-haired lad running up to her with a silly grin on his lips. He must have been walking up from the village.

She was taken aback by the stranger's joy as he approached, and she asked, "Have we met before?"

"Have ye forgotten already? Aye, we've met before. Two years past." He leaned closer. "I helped ye with a basket of eggs ye were carrying. Ach, but I cannae forget a face as sweet as yers."

"Oh… I see."

How could she forget? The lad had pestered her a few months after their first meeting. She had tried to avoid him as best she could at village affairs. "Aye, I do remember ye now."

"It has been ages."

"Ye exaggerate! It hasn't been more than a season and a half since ye stopped troubling me."

"Aye, milady. Fret not—I happen to have fallen for an English lass since ye. ‘Tis a long story, I must warn ye."

"We should keep the story for another time, then. I must hurry away now."

"Where to?"

Sophia gestured to the handbasket she was holding. "To fetch some herbs."

The lad pried the basket from her. "I must accompany ye."

"Tis inappropriate for ye to do so!"

"Why?" He waved his hand, motioning her forward. "Do lead the way."

She did feel a bit of awkwardness tingle down her arms. Maybe, she thought, a bit of company will do nae harm.

It was a decision she later came to regret.

The poor, willowy lad ran at the mouth. She knew the sun had more chance of falling from the sky than the boy had of being quiet. His talking and story-telling were endless. Sophia endured it, though; she would not hurt his feelings by letting him know his jokes were tiring.

Once before, when she had been tired of his pestering and had given him a stern warning, his old mother had begged her to have pity on her son and soothe him with her company. The woman said he had been starving himself to death. She could not refuse the woman then, but she made sure to avoid him as much as he could since.

After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at a spot where the trees were so tall they brushed the skies. The sun beat against the leaves, casting shadows on the earth below. Sophia found the crunching sound underfoot satisfying as they marched through the thickness of the woods. The smell of trees and wild plants fought for dominance. She collected her handbasket from her follower.

"Thank ye for escorting me thus far, erm…"

"The name is James. James Cullingham"

"Mr. James, aye. Thank ye very much."

"Ye can go on with picking the herbs, milady. I dinnae mind waiting."

"Oh, but I do—"

"Tis fine. I trust ye."

It was an even odder situation. Suddenly, Sophia heard footsteps behind them.

"Did ye nae hear the lass?" asked a gruff, low voice.

"Milaird!" Sophia yelped, looking at the hulking man standing only inches away from her. A lock of his shining, curly hair fell over one of his eyes—the eye that was unhidden appeared intensely blue and… angry.

James swiveled around; his neck tensed as he turned. "M-Milaird?" he gawked. As soon as he met Kendrick's stare, he stumbled back and fell over. "Milaird, I was just about to leave, and I—"

Before Sophia could utter a word in his defense, the boy had vanished as if the ground had swallowed him whole. "Well done, milaird. Ye managed to scare the man away."

"What were ye thinking? Coming into the woods with a lad all by yerself?"

Was that jealousy or disapproval in his voice? Whichever one it was, she would provoke more out of him.

"I was nae thinking. I simply came along with him."

Kendrick moved closer to her. "Ye must be careful. He could've hurt ye."

"Och, I am careful enough. Still, I can never be too careful, can I?" She walked away, moving into the heart of the forest.

"What do ye mean, Sophia?"

She chose not to acknowledge his question. It was not like he could change what had happened. Instead, she asked a question of her own. "How did ye ken I was here?"

"There aren't many other wee raven-haired lasses that walk into woods on their own, are they? I was riding by to see ye when I caught ye make off the main road."

She plucked a handful of white willow herbs, sniffed their scent, then put them in her basket. "Why did ye bother to come find me?"

"I wanted to see ye… ye've been avoiding me for days."

"Well, ye've seen me. Please return to yer castle now, milaird."

Her mind was clear, thank the heavens, and she had kept her promise to never have anything to do with him again. Her foolish heart, however, became a problem. It was pounding so hard in her ears that she could feel it. It wished the Laird would not leave as she had stated. She pushed her legs forward, hoping he wouldn't catch up with her.

Kendrick grabbed her hand and spun her around. Their chests collided. She realized she was as foolish as her own heart in that moment of weakness. She, too, had been a fool to think she could outrun him.

"Sophia," he whispered, "I ken why ye left the keep." She tried to wriggle away, but he kept her pinned to himself. "Truly—Catherine is nae carrying my bairn."

She froze. "How can ye ken?"

"I have my ways, Sophia, and she'll never step foot on our lands again."

Sophia pulled herself back; this time, she succeeded in breaking free from him. "Did ye ken before our wedding morning that she was pregnant? No matter that it turned out to be a lie. Did ye ken before the night we spent together?"

He hesitated. "I did."

"Ye promised me that night… ye promised never to hold anything back from me. All the while, even yer promise to me was a lie!"

"It was nae a lie, Sophia—I meant every word I said to ye that night."

"Then why ?" She paused to breathe. "Why did ye lie?"

"I would've told ye once I was sure, Sophia." His voice was soft. "I would've let ye ken as soon as I was certain."

"What difference would that have made?"

"At least I would have been certain she was with my bairn. I ken, it would've hurt ye if I had told ye." He cupped her face in his hands. "I did nae want to hurt ye for naething."

"Kendrick… tis a wee bit too—"

Suddenly, beads of rain started to fall down from the sky. Kendrick immediately covered her with his large body, grabbed her basket with one hand and with the other, he blanketed her shoulder and lead her to a small cave close by.

Her body was barely damp when they found their way in, he, however, was wet and dripping.

She tried to brush away the droplets of rain on her Arasaid. "The sun was shining so brightly... I wonder why the rain started so suddenly," she complained.

"Ye are brighter than that," Kendrick teased, examining the small cave.

"What did ye say?"

"Rain falls by no hand of man—or gathering lasses." He smiled.

"Well, in my defense…" She had nothing with which to defend herself, so she sighed. "What are ye searching for?"

He turned to face her. "I'm making sure it's safe."

His chest was hard and silken beneath the wet cloth of his shirt. "Are ye scared?"

" Scared ?" He raised his brow. "I should be asking ye if ye're scared instead."

Outside, the rain turned into a storm, pelting angrily against the ground. Sophia took a look around. The cave appeared to have had an occupant at one point. At its center was a makeshift campfire and cot.

"How did ye ken there was a cave here?" she asked Kendrick, stunned.

He picked up two agate stones beside the pile of woods—someone's treasure. "This is my clan, Sophia, and I am a warrior, too. Things like this are prepared all around." He struck the two stones with so much energy she thought they would crack. He gave one final strike, bending down to the fire, and the stones sparked. They really sparked; Sophia had never witnessed anything like it.

"Yer skilled in so many ways," she swallowed as Kendrick pulled off his white shirt to reveal—

God save my lustful soul.

He revealed his hairy, brawny chest. Through his wet, white shirt, she had been able to make out the line of his muscles and the pink of his nipples. Now, his chest was uncovered before her eyes.

And it is breathtaking.

Whatever angry words she had to spit at him washed away with the tension that was growing in her.

"Sophia!" He glanced at her knowingly. "Are ye well? Ye look as though yer choking."

Oh, yes… she was very well. The Laird knew how tempting he was. Looking at him, shirtless, wet, with curly dark hair running down his handsome face and his neck… she was certain he was one of God's favorite creations.

He is perfect. Nae, he exceeds perfection.

As if Kendrick could read her impassioned thoughts, he placed her small hands on his chest. How warm, how strong he felt.

He edged her close, softly dragged her ear closer to his lips, and then he gave her a little, electrifying lick. He whispered, "I cannae let ye go, Sophia. Ye are mine."

He slid his hand across her belly and down her spine, and she felt fire wherever he touched her. She could not move even an inch away.

"All mine," he rasped. His voice rang into her ears, then into her soul, possessively.

All mine.

He pressed her against a wall. One by one, he exposed all her secrets. He drew her gown from her head, then did away with her petticoat and stays. She was bare before him.

As if such wicked pleasure was not enough, he stood back, staring at her wholly. She could see the intensity in his eyes, the dark desire that ripped him asunder. He was taking his time admiring her. He ran a finger between her breasts; then, slowly, he drew it down to her navel. He encircled it once, and then twice, before continuing its journey down to her petals.

Her throat let out a sensual groan. He tilted his head and smiled. A hellish, torturous type of smile. She felt her craving blossom between her legs.

Then he took her own fingers and placed them at the most sensitive part of her. "Touch yerself for me," he said in a rumbling voice and moved so close to her she could feel his breath on her neck.

"What?" She arched back from the wall. "I dinnae ken how to—"

He caught her lips, devouring whatever little dignity she had left, savoring her completely with the heat of his tongue.

She knew she should not be with him, not like this. But her soul had formed an intimacy with his own. He was not just kissing her lips; he was making her pray for him. She wanted him to stop… she wanted him to continue. She loved him; she was in love with him. All she wanted was to learn how to hate him. Yet here she was, giving all of herself—wanting to forever.

Even though she knew it would only last a moment.

Aye, just one last, selfish moment.

"Sophia?" He slipped his finger inside of her. "Ye want me too."