Awoken: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Sisters of Kilbride Book 2) Read online

  “Will this hurt?” she asked, a tremble to her voice.

  “Perhaps … a little,” he replied. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how Leanna would respond, for he’d never bedded a virgin before. He’d heard that a woman’s first time could be painful, and he’d do his best to be gentle. Still, he couldn’t make any assurances—this was new to him as well. “Worry not … I will go slowly.”

  Holding himself up above Leanna, Ross slid gently into her, inch by inch.

  Heavens, she was wet. It took all his self-control not to plunge into her. His body trembled from restraint as he slid into her deeper still. She was tight, and he felt a barrier to his penetration, and halted.

  Breathing hard, they both locked eyes.

  “Shall I stop?” he rasped. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to, actually, but he had to ask. He didn’t want to frighten her.

  Fortunately, Leanna shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed now, and she wriggled experimentally against him, her gaze widening further. “Don’t stop.” She moaned the words, and wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him against her. “Please, Ross … please.”

  With a groan, Ross sank into her, pushing past the barrier of her maidenhead.

  He felt her tense, her legs tightening their grip around him. Staring into Leanna’s eyes, he watched pain shadow their depths. Long moments passed, and then her hold upon him eased slightly.

  A heartbeat later she undulated her hips against his, the movement tentative yet instinctual. The feel of her tight heat contracting against his shaft made a low, animalistic groan escape Ross. Coupling had never felt this good. Never.

  Slowly, he started to move inside her.

  And as he did so, his gaze fused with Leanna’s once more, and her mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Ah,” she breathed, her voice full of sultry promise. “I understand now what all the fuss is about.”

  23

  In the Shadows

  THEY LAY TOGETHER in silence for a long while after coupling. Ross had rolled off Leanna, taking her with him so that she rested against his chest. He must have dozed off, for the rise of his ribcage slowed and deepened.

  But Leanna didn’t sleep.

  How could she when the most magical event of her life had just occurred?

  To think she could have missed out on experiencing this? If she’d remained at Kilbride, she would never have known Ross’s touch. And worse still, if she’d become MacKinnon’s wife, she would have equated brutality with lust.

  Whatever happens now, I’m content.

  But was she? Ross had shown her another world, one she didn’t want to leave just yet. It had been her first time, and he’d gone slowly and gently in an effort to make her comfortable. It had hurt, yet the pain had been fleeting.

  The way he’d moved inside her, and the sensations that had followed, had been a revelation. She’d hadn’t realized her body was capable of giving her such feeling. Afterward, pleasure had built in aching, rippling waves that made her groan and sigh. She knew they’d just scratched the surface though, that there was so much more pleasure to be experienced—that something wondrous lay just out of reach. She’d felt as if she’d arched toward it, brushed it with her fingertips.

  She wanted to fall into Ross, to spiral through oblivion with him.

  But as she rested against his naked chest, her throat tightened while sadness rose within. They were running out of time. Leanna squeezed her eyes closed pushing back tears. Tonight was a frozen moment, something magical that neither of them had counted on.

  With the rising of the dawn, the enchantment would shatter and time would march on. If MacKinnon ever caught up with them, there was a real chance that she would never lie with Ross Campbell ever again.

  The thought made an ache rise under Leanna’s breastbone. Life could be so cruel—to show her something so wondrous and then to rip it from her would be more than she could bear. And yet some things were out of her control.

  “Ye have a visitor, MacKinnon.”

  Duncan jerked up his head and glared blearily at where Broderick stood in the doorway to his solar. The clan-chief had fallen asleep upon his high-backed chair before the hearth. “At this hour?” he rasped. It was late, the middle of the night in fact. He should be slumbering in his bed, not receiving visitors. Who the devil would disturb him now?

  Broderick nodded, his face giving nothing away.

  “Well … tell whoever it is that I’ll see them in the morning.”

  “Ye will want to see this man,” Broderick replied, his manner as phlegmatic as ever. “He is known to us all … and brings word from yer brother.”

  Duncan went still, the last vestiges of sleep sloughing off him. “My bastard brother?” he snarled.

  “Craeg has taken Campbell and Lady Leanna prisoner,” Broderick replied, ignoring the correction. Yer visitor is one of his band. He comes bearing terms.”

  At Duncan’s feet, Bran stirred. The wolfhound gave a soft whine as it picked up on the tension that suddenly rippled through the chamber. For once, Duncan didn’t reach out to ruffle the dog’s ears. Instead, his attention was wholly upon the warrior who’d taken Ross Campbell’s place as his right-hand. He wasn’t as fond of Broderick as he had been of Campbell; the man was as difficult to read as a granite boulder.

  “Show him in then.”

  With a nod, Broderick stepped back and jerked his chin to someone who stood just out of sight.

  A heartbeat later, a tall man with greying dark hair, sharp features, and a hard gaze stepped forward. Clad in well-fitting hunting leathers, the newcomer stared him down as he entered.

  Likewise, Duncan glared back, a chill seeping through him.

  Him.

  MacKinnon rose to his full height before the fire, while at his feet Bran started to growl low in his throat. The dog had sensed the animosity between the two men, the tension that flooded the solar.

  His brother’s emissary was unarmed, yet he carried himself with the calm self-assurance of a man who didn’t need a weapon to feel confident.

  “Brochan,” Duncan murmured. “I thought ye were dead?”

  The outlaw grinned, although his eyes were hostile. He was around a decade older than Duncan, his leathery, tanned skin crisscrossed with fine lines. “Aye … ye did yer best, MacKinnon … but I lived and found a place at Craeg the Bastard’s side instead.”

  Brochan came to a halt in the center of the solar. Broderick and four other warriors stood behind him, awaiting the clan-chief’s command.

  Duncan MacKinnon observed the outlaw, and as he did so, the chill faded and heat stirred in his belly. His hands, which hung at his sides, slowly clenched and unclenched.

  So Craeg had abducted Lady Leanna—and had sent this cur to deliver his terms?

  Hatred coiled within him, with such strength that his gut hurt.

  I should have made sure Craeg and Brochan died all those years ago … why did I not?

  He’d been foolish back then. He’d been sure both men would die from their injuries, but clearly his arrogance had gotten the better of him. It had been a gross miscalculation, for instead Craeg had grown strong over the years and amassed a loyal following.

  Men like Brochan—who’d die for him, if necessary.

  Duncan clenched his jaw so tightly that pain arrowed through his right ear. Brochan was a fool to come here alone and try to blackmail him, and Craeg was reckless to have sent him here.

  The outlaw would have a nasty end. But first, Duncan would get the details he needed from him.

  Craeg was kneeling by the burn, splashing water across his face, when Gunn approached. The morning sun had just broken through the mist, and around him the trees chattered and trilled with the dawn chorus.

  “Brochan has disappeared,” the warrior announced.

  Craeg sat back on his heels and blinked water out of his eyes. He then glanced up at the big man. His face was creased with concern.

  Craeg made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. Reach
ing for a rough cloth, he rose to his feet and dried his face. “He’s probably just gone hunting.”

  Gunn folded brawny arms across his barrel chest. “He left his longbow and arrows behind … and told no one he was leaving.”

  Craeg went still, a heavy sensation settling in the pit of his gut. “He wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t he?”

  “But I forbade it.”

  “Ye know Brochan doesn’t take well to being told ‘no’.” Gunn was scowling now. “He was angry after ye denied him yesterday. I heard him complaining at the fireside later.”

  Craeg rose to his feet, anger coiling within him. “Everyone else would agree that his plan was reckless.”

  “Aye … but when he talked of all the silver our guests would buy us, some of them looked half-convinced.”

  Craeg gave a snort of disgust. Coin. It had a corrupting influence on everyone, even those who’d sworn to use it for good. “So he left alone?”

  “Looks like it … no one else is missing.”

  Craeg raked a hand through his already disheveled hair and growled a curse. “That idiot will bring hell down upon us.”

  “If ye could go anywhere, live anywhere, where would it be?”

  Leanna’s question shattered the companionable silence within the hut. A new day had dawned, and Fenella had brought them food to break their fast. The outlaw wore a grim expression and had thumped the tray down without a word before departing. However, she’d left the door open, allowing the fresh dawn air to filter in. Outdoors, Leanna glimpsed a pale, misty morning.

  Ross put down the wedge of bannock he’d been buttering and met her gaze, his mouth lifting at the edges. “I don’t rightly know … it’s not a question I’ve ever asked myself.”

  “But if ye could?”

  There was a restlessness within Leanna as she asked the question, a need to ‘know’ this man. Time was running out; she could feel it slipping through her fingers like fine grains of sand. She needed something to cling on to, something to remember.

  Ross considered the question. In the soft morning light filtering into the hut, his face was achingly handsome. He wore a whimsical, almost boyish expression, the dawn sun glowing upon the dark waves of his hair.

  His dark léine lay open at the neck, revealing a light covering of crisp, dark curls. Leanna’s lower belly clenched with desire as she remembered how she’d run her hands over his chest the night before, how she’d traced the contours of his chest with her lips.

  How she wanted to do that again.

  “I once believed I wanted to rule a broch of my own,” Ross replied finally. “I wanted lands and a loyal following of warriors like my father … but I’m not sure I desire that anymore.” He paused then, his gaze swiveling to the view outdoors, where cloaked figures moved by. “Many of my clansmen are farmers … sometimes I imagine having land and sheep, fertile fields, and a home that I built with my own hands.”

  Ross glanced back, and their gazes met. The look that passed between them was so intense that Leanna suddenly forgot to breathe. “All my life I’ve striven for what was never worth having,” he said huskily. “Meeting ye has made me realize just how empty it’s all been. If I could go anywhere, I would take a boat to some forgotten isle with ye, Leanna, and build a new life there for ourselves … away from the noise and strife of the rest of the world.”

  Warmth filtered through her at these words. “Then that is what we should do,” she murmured.

  Their gazes held, and she watched his throat bob and his dark eyes glisten with sudden emotion. “I promise ye that if we survive the coming days, we will,” he replied.

  24

  Betrayal

  “CRAEG ASKS THAT ye both join us for the noon meal.”

  Seated upon a mossy log, where she’d been making a wildflower posy, Leanna glanced up.

  Fenella stood before her, hands on hips, her gaze narrowed. The woman’s attention slid down to the stalks of heather, bluebells, and primroses upon Leanna’s lap. Her mouth thinned, and Leanna’s cheeks warmed in response. No doubt the woman thought her a witless goose of a woman. Making a posy seemed like a frivolous act, but since the entire camp had appeared busy this morning, she’d gone looking for something to keep her busy. After breaking their fast at dawn, both she and Ross had been at a loose end.

  They’d passed most of the morning talking. She’d told him of her childhood, her time at Kilbride, and about the things she missed about Duncaith.

  Likewise, Ross had talked of his past. She already knew his childhood hadn’t been pleasant, but there had been light-hearted moments. As a wee lad, he’d collected frogs, which he used to frighten his mother and sister with. He’d been close to his uncle, who’d died in battle when Ross had been around twelve, and the man had taught him how to hunt, how to shear a sheep, and how to shoe a horse. After his death, Ross had felt alone amongst a family that didn’t understand him.

  Ross now sat a few feet behind her, sharpening the blade of his claidheamh-mor with a small whetstone he’d brought with him.

  “He’s remembered we’re here, has he?” Ross asked, a rueful note to his voice. “I imagined he might have some questions for me?”

  Leanna tensed. They’d discussed that very subject over their bannocks earlier. Ross was sure that Craeg hadn’t let them stay in the outlaw village purely out of generosity. He was bound to want something from them.

  “Craeg’s been … preoccupied this morning,” Fenella replied coolly. “But now, if I can drag ye away from yer tasks.” She cast Leanna another pointed look. “He wishes ye to join us.”

  Cheeks burning, Leanna put aside her posy. Upon her arrival here, she’d thought she might warm to Fenella, but she was hurriedly revising her opinion of her. Leanna twisted around then to see that Ross had risen to his feet. He winced as he stretched out his long back.

  She too got up, dusting off her skirts, and they followed Fenella through the village. It was a murky day. The light levels were low; a morning mist had given way to overcast skies.

  Around them the outlaw village bustled with a surprising amount of industry. Women were bringing in washing, and children were tending oatcakes over a nearby fire pit; while at another, two men turned haunches of venison over the glowing coals.

  Leanna’s belly growled as the delicious aroma of roasting meat wafted over her.

  It was then that she noted there was more to the busyness than just the day-to-day routines of the settlement. A group of women sat near one of the fires, deftly fletching arrows and fastening on iron tips. The odor of hot iron drifted through the village, as did the clang of a smith’s hammer. Men strode past, carrying spears and dirks.

  Leanna’s belly tightened. It looked as if they were preparing for war.

  Glancing at Fenella, she saw that the woman wore a scowl. She clearly wasn’t happy about something. Leanna had thought it was likely their presence here that was bothering her, but now she suspected there was something else.

  At the heart of the outlaw settlement was a large central fire pit, where a haunch of venison was being sliced up and served onto wooden platters. A scattering of men sat around it.

  The nervousness in Leanna’s gut fluttered like a cage of butterflies when she saw they were all armed.

  Craeg sat among them, as did the red-haired outlaw, Gunn. Craeg’s expression was shuttered as he raised a hand and beckoned Leanna and Ross over, motioning for them to sit down at his side.

  Sharing a wary glance with Ross, Leanna did as bid. However, tension rippled through her. It didn’t matter how she steeled herself, every time she set eyes on the outlaw leader, her breathing constricted. At first glance he looked so much like his half-brother. But as his green eyes settled upon her, her pulse calmed.

  This isn’t Duncan MacKinnon, she assured herself.

  “I hope ye are finding yer lodgings comfortable enough?” he asked.

  Leanna nodded, while next to her, Ross let out a non-committal grunt.

 
Craeg grinned at their responses. “It’s not as fine as ye are both used to, I’d warrant.”

  Leanna stiffened. Did Craeg think her as spoiled and haughty as Fenella did?

  Seated before the glowing embers, she reached out and warmed her fingers. It was hard to believe they were in the midst of spring, for the air this high in the mountains had a definite nip to it.

  Taking the platter of venison the outlaws were passing around, Leanna helped herself to a slice. She then gave the platter to Ross, who did the same. However, his gaze was focused on Craeg.

  “Something is up?” he murmured. “Yesterday this was a lost mountain village, yet today it looks like ye are preparing for a siege. Why’s that?”

  The outlaw leader inclined his head. “Observant aren’t ye, Campbell?”

  “Call it more of a survival instinct.”

  Craeg smiled at that, although Leanna noted the expression was strained. “The situation has changed,” he said after a moment. “It appears that one of my men may have done something … stupid.”

  Leanna swallowed the mouthful of venison she’d been chewing, her pulse quickening. The wary look in the man’s eyes warned her she wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell them.

  “Last night, the man in question, suggested we ransom the pair of ye to MacKinnon,” Craeg continued.

  Leanna sucked in a breath, and even though she didn’t look his way, Leanna felt Ross tense. “And?” he asked warily.

  “Of course, I dismissed the idea,” Craeg replied, frowning. “But now Brochan’s disappeared. We believe he’s gone to Dunan.”

  A beat of stunned silence followed, and then Ross spoke, his voice low and rough with anger. “Ye have betrayed us.”

  Craeg shook his head. “We haven’t done anything of the sort. I don’t even know if that’s where Brochan has gone, but we’re taking precautions nonetheless. I’ve put more men on the watch and sent out scouts farther down the valley. They’ll let us know if anyone approaches.” He paused then. A muscle flexed in his jaw, betraying his tension. “I didn’t sanction this, Campbell … and I will do all I can to keep ye and Lady Leanna safe.”