Chapter 14
14
After finding Davina searching his desk drawers, something began to gnaw at Lachlan. Had his daughter known about this pendant, or had her curiosity merely been another part of her reawakening? He had pondered over the matter for some time before putting it to the back of his mind.
However, it was brought back to the foreground the next evening when he found himself unable to sleep again and decided to do some estate work to tire himself out. He knew he should simply try to relax and let sleep overtake him, no matter how long it took, but his brain was so alert and busy it simply would not rest.
He sighed irritably as he rose from bed and padded down to his study, where he poured a large measure of whisky before attempting to settle down to some work. However, as he reached into the bottom drawer of his desk again to find some quill pens, he noticed that the wooden box that had contained the pendant was missing.
Puzzled, he searched the whole drawer, taking out every item one by one and placing it on the desk to make sure he missed nothing. At last, it was empty, and there was still no sign of the box.
Lachlan frowned deeply, feeling a surge of anger; there was no doubt where it had gone, since Davina was the only one who knew where it was. Sometimes he suspected that she used her disability to manipulate him. She might still be unable to speak fluently, but she could still think. However, he realised that the best person to ask about any subterfuge on his daughter’s part was Jeannie.
As soon as he thought of her, his body surged. Ever since their lovemaking, she had never really been out of his mind, and he longed for her in a way that he could not fathom. It was not mere lust, but something else—something he could hardly bear to admit to himself, even now.
Considering the effect she had had on Davina, even his mute daughter sensed that there was something extraordinary about her.
And at that moment he desired her even more than he had ever desired any woman before, not even his wife. Their loving had been tender and reverent, but Jeannie was different; there was a primitive nature to their pairing. She was not sweet, as Sandie had been, but hungry and passionate, and at that moment, so was he.
His arousal was so strong it was almost painful, and he knew he had to see her and talk over how he felt about her, but they would make love first.
It occurred to him, as he made his way up to her chamber, that she might not want him as much as he wanted her. Lachlan had never forced himself on a woman and never would, but he hoped that she felt the same as he did.
In spite of the fact that he was the Laird and had the keys to every room in the castle, Lachlan always preferred to courteously knock at the door before he entered a room. He did so now, but tentatively, to avoid waking the other servants.
When there was no answer the first time, he tried again, then again, but after his fourth attempt he decided that Jeannie must be asleep, so he entered the room silently and looked around.
By the light of his single candle and the moonlight shining through the tiny window in the roof, he saw that the room was empty, and the bed had not been slept in. At first, he was puzzled, then astonished, and as he looked around, angry. Where had she gone?
The servants usually kept their clothes and personal belongings beside their beds, and that was the first place Lachlan looked for the answer to where Jeannie had gone.
The cupboard was empty except for Jeannie’s servant’s uniform. Lachlan picked it up and pressed his face into it, inhaling her scent, the smell that was her essence. It was a fragrance of the kitchen, the garden, and a peculiar musk that was all her own. He had inhaled it before while their bodies had been joined in passion, and he would have known it anywhere.
So where had she gone? The answer came to him almost at once as he noticed that her men’s breeches were not there. Lachlan smiled as he realised that his fiery servant must have gone out to practise her swordsmanship again.
I might have known, he thought, smiling. He clattered downstairs with no thought to the noise he was making, so eager was he to reach Jeannie.
After he had selected a blunt weapon from the store to practise with, Lachlan headed out onto the training field to find Jeannie; he spotted her at once, but not where he had expected to. She was not carrying a wooden sword, as he was, but a lethally sharp broadsword in a scabbard strapped to her hip.
A bolt of anger shot through Lachlan as he saw her tightening the girth on a black mare, and he realised that she was running away from the castle and from him. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she whipped her head around to face him.
By the light of the small candle he was carrying, he looked into her dark grey eyes which were now wide with fear. Alyth released her foot from the stirrup and looked at the ground, avoiding his eyes. She was terrified, but tired, and all she wanted to do now was go home.
“Where are you going with one of my horses?” he asked angrily.
“This is not one of your horses,” she replied. “It belongs to Laird Robertson.”
“And you are taking it back to him?” Lachlan asked angrily. He was standing only a foot away from Alyth, and she had absolutely no chance of escape: she was trapped.
“No,” she answered, “I just want to go home.”
“Why? Home to where?” Lachlan was mystified, and his anger suddenly evaporated. “Tell me, Jeannie.”
However, she refused to look up, and he lost patience. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, yet still, she said nothing.
“If there is a problem,” he tried to talk calmly, “please tell me about it. Whatever it is, we can sort it out together.”
“No, Lachlan,” she replied, shaking her head. “Let me go. I want to go home. I need to.”
Lachlan looked into her eyes for a long moment and watched them fill with tears. He felt infinitely sorry for her.
“Please stay,” he begged. “Davina needs you, and I need you too. I know you’re holding something back from me, but whatever it is, please tell me. I promise I won’t hold it against you.”
Lachlan watched helplessly as she shook her head. “No, Lachlan,” she replied. “I am a servant, and you are a Laird. I want to go home to my family. They need me, and I need them. I have been away long enough.”
“Who is your family?” Lachlan asked. “You were running away because your father was forcing you to marry. Has that changed?”
Again, Alyth shook her head. “No, but I will find a way to escape it. We were never meant to be together, Lachlan.”
“Jeannie.” His voice was almost a growl. “I make the rules here, not you. Of course, I won’t force you to stay, but I can help you change your fate.”
“And how could you do that?” Alyth asked. “Taking me as your mistress? Definitely not your wife—think of the scandal.”
That made Lachlan think for a moment. What status would Jeannie Dunbar have in his home? Yet as he looked down at her, he knew he could not let go of her. Perhaps he could buy her a cottage and she could set up home there? He could see her as often as he liked; perhaps they could even marry in secret.
Lachlan stopped his train of thought immediately, aware that it was becoming rambling and ridiculous, and brought himself back to the present. He wrapped his arms around Alyth and held her close for a moment.
“I love having you around me,” he said fondly. “You are good for me, Jeannie. You make me feel happy in a way I have not since Sandie died. When I met all my former friends and realised how empty-headed they were, I thought of sitting down and having a conversation with you. I want us to be friends. The fact that Davina likes you is tremendous, of course, but…” he tailed off, but the look in his eyes said everything he could not put into words.
Suddenly, his lips swooped down on Alyth’s, and she was lost in a world of sensation out of which there was no escape. For a fleeting second, he thought she would push him away, but instead she did the opposite and pulled him so close to her that their bodies were pressed together with no space between them. She rubbed herself on the bulge of his erection and left a moan of triumph that she had brought him to this impressive state of arousal.
Lachlan broke the kiss and lifted Alyth into his arms, then took her to the tack room, where all the riding equipment was kept. He laid her down on the straw-covered floor then kissed her again, frantically and hungrily, until she was almost dazed with delight.
“Every time I looked at you, I wanted to do this,” Lachlan said hoarsely. “Thinking about you was driving me mad, Jeannie.” He kissed his way down the side of her neck, then once more came to the barrier of her clothing.
Alyth could read his mind as she saw him looking at her tunic. He wanted to tear it from her body, but a moment of sanity returned as she realised that the pendant was there. She could not possibly let him see it.
“Don’t,” she whispered, “I have nothing else to wear.”
He looked disappointed, then he asked hopefully, “There will be a next time, will there not?”
Alyth hesitated; uncertain as to what she should say next. She desperately wanted to say yes, but did not want to sound too eager. “If you wish,” she replied.
“Oh, I do,” he answered fervently. “Jeannie, you have no idea how much I want there to be another time like this.”
Then he paid her the same attention as he had before, lowering his mouth to suckle and nibble first the left, then the right breast as he toyed with the other one between his thumb and forefinger.
Alyth plunged her hands into his thick chestnut hair as she arched her body up to him. Lachlan moved his lips back to her mouth to kiss her again, then asked, “What would you like me to do now?”
“Whatever you like,” Alyth replied huskily. She was too far gone by now to refuse him anything.
Lachlan kissed his way down to the waistband of her breeches, which he unfastened before pushing them down over her knees and pulling them off altogether.
His eyes widened as he gazed down at her. “I knew you would be beautiful,” he murmured incredulously. “But nothing like this, Jeannie. You are a goddess.”
“Hardly,” she replied, with a mischievous grin. “But now it’s your turn, Lachlan. I want to see you too.”
It was true. Although they had already made love, Alyth had not had a chance to study him properly either—now she was beyond impatient.
Lachlan needed no second bidding. He knelt in front of her and ripped his clothes off as though they were burning him. When he was naked, Alyth stayed his frantic movements so that she could feast on the magnificent specimen of masculinity in front of her. She let out a soft sigh of appreciation.
Lachlan was everything she had expected and hoped for. He boasted broad shoulders and powerful arms, with a sculpted chest and stomach with a dusting of dark red hair. However, the piece of him that was between his bulging, muscular thighs was what fascinated her most. Alyth was not a connoisseur of such things, but she was sure that most men were not as well-endowed as this.
She watched as he bent down to kiss her sweetest spot, then she said, “Wait.”
Lachlan looked up, puzzled, but he gave a sigh of satisfaction as she took him in her mouth and began to suck him, while running the tip of her tongue down his length.
He moaned in delight, and when Alyth let him go, he gave a little grunt of protest, but she began to massage him with her hand, looking up into his face to see his reaction. Lachlan arched his head back, and she could see every muscle in his neck straining as he clenched his jaw to stop himself crying out with pleasure.
“Jeannie,” he said desperately. “Please stop. I cannot go on much longer—I need to be inside you!”
Alyth lay back on the straw, then opened her arms to him. She smiled wickedly. “Come then,” she invited. “I would hate to make you suffer.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered.
This time, there were no preliminaries, no caresses, no kisses. Lachlan surged into her and Alyth cried out as she felt him fill her, reaching inside her as far as she could accommodate him. But it was not enough.
She felt, at that moment, as if she would never have enough of him, and as she raised her legs to wrap them around his waist, she wished there were more of her. She wanted him to reach every part of her, to become one with him because she loved him with every fibre of her being.
As he thrust harder and harder, faster and faster, Alyth dug her fingers into the flesh of his back and shoulders and met every stroke with an upward movement of her hips that matched his in a frantic, frenzied rhythm.
Every movement brought her closer to the glorious peak of ecstasy she had experienced before, till at last she reached it and screamed, “Lachlan!”
As the rapturous waves washed over her, she heard Lachlan give out a hoarse cry as he reached his own fulfilment, his body shuddering against hers.
He kissed her with a hunger she had never felt from him before, as if he wanted to devour her, before he drew away and laid his head on her shoulder. He looked almost stunned, she thought.
“I think if we do that again,” Lachlan said, with a dreamy smile, “I might die of bliss.”
Alyth laughed softly. “I doubt that’s likely,” she replied as she ran her hand over his shining hair.
It was one of the features she admired most about him—she loved to run her fingers over and through it while they were making love. It was yet another thing about him, she knew she was going to dearly miss.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, smiling. He raised himself on one elbow to look down at her, and Alyth laughed wickedly.
“I wish we could do that again,” she answered.
Lachlan was genuinely shocked. “My god! You are insatiable,” he cried. “You know that we poor men are not quite as strong as women. We take a while to recover.”
“I know!” Alyth giggled, then became serious.
She needed to get away, but before she could make another move, Lachlan put his arms around her and embraced her again. His hand moved around the back of her neck so that he could pull her towards him to kiss her again, but, suddenly, it stilled.
She felt him, then, running the fastening of the pendant through his fingers. Alyth tensed, and her heart skipped a beat as she realised what was going to happen next.
“I have never seen you wearing jewellery before,” Lachlan remarked, frowning.
Alyth watched his startled expression when he pulled the chain from under the neckline of her tunic. He stared at the pendant for a moment before he opened it, then he looked up at her again, his eyes dark with anger.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.