Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Great Hall had never seemed so silent while filled with so many people. Voices remained low. Cups were lifted and set down without laughter. At the lower tables, three empty places had been left among the guards, each marked by an untouched cup and a sprig of heather.
Elspeth sat beside Colin upon the raised dais. He had scarcely spoken since the Council. His face revealed nothing, but she saw the signs others might miss: the set of his injured shoulder, the stillness of his hands, the way his gaze counted every man, woman, and child in the hall.
When the meal had nearly ended, Colin rose. No one called for silence. None was needed.
He stood before them dressed in black, his wounded arm held slightly stiff at his side. Firelight sharpened the hard lines of his face and left his eyes in shadow.
“Three men died today guarding the northern passage,” he informed them. The words travelled through the hall without force yet reached every corner.
“They were Alasdair Grant, Finlay Ross, and Tomas MacRae.”
A woman at the lower table bowed her head. Beside her, an older man closed one hand around his cup.
“They stood where I placed them,” Colin continued. “They obeyed their orders, and they died protecting the road intae these lands.”
Elspeth felt grief move through the hall like wind through grass.
“Their bodies will be brought home. Their families will be provided fer. Their names willnae be forgotten.” His voice did not break.
It did not soften. Yet no one doubted the promise.
“Robert Munro believes death will divide us. He believes fear will make us turn against one another, hide behind our doors, and abandon those beside us.” Colin looked across the gathered clan. “He is wrong.”
A murmur answered him.
“He has spilled MacKenzie blood. That blood will be avenged.”
The murmur deepened.
“But hear me well,” Colin spoke, and the hall stilled again. “Nay man leaves these walls seeking private vengeance. Nay family rides alone. Nay one gives Robert another life because anger made him careless.”
Elspeth watched the men listening. There was rage among them. Fear as well. But neither became defiance beneath Colin’s command.
“I will protect these lands,” he vowed. “I will protect every village, every family, and every soul who shelters beneath this name.”
His gaze moved briefly to Elspeth. The look lasted no more than a heartbeat. It nevertheless felt like a vow made only to her.
“And I will find the man responsible.”
There was no shout when he finished. Instead, the clan struck their cups once against the tables. The sound rolled through the hall like distant thunder. Colin inclined his head and sat.
Elspeth looked at him. He appeared as cold as he always had; stern, controlled, severe enough to frighten.
But his people did not mistake coldness for indifference.
They knew him. They knew that once Colin MacKenzie gave his word, he would spend blood, sleep, comfort, and life itself before allowing that word to fail.
The clan was afraid. They’d buried friends. They expected more violence. Yet when they looked toward their laird, fear did not become doubt. They believed in him and his words.
Elspeth reached beneath the table and placed her hand over his. Colin glanced down, then toward her. His fingers turned beneath hers and closed around her hand. The gesture was hidden from the hall, but the promise was not.
Elspeth promised she would wait for him in bed.
Colin remembered the words through an hour of discussions concerning grain stores, northern patrols, replacement horses, and the wisdom of moving several families within the castle walls. By the time the last councilman left, Colin’s patience had become a thin and endangered thing.
He went directly to their chamber. The fire was burning. The bed curtains had been drawn back. Elspeth’s gown lay folded across the chair, but Elspeth was not there.
Colin stopped in the doorway. “Elspeth?”
There was no answer. The room seemed to alter around him. He searched the bathing chamber, then the adjoining passage. Skye had not seen her. Neither had the guard at the stairs. Within minutes, Colin crossed half the castle. The prisoner’s words followed him.
He means tae kill her first.
Colin checked the kitchens, the small solar, the battlements, and the lower hall. With every empty room, fear tightened its hand around his throat.
Eventually, he found her in the stables. Elspeth was standing near the open doors, wrapped in a dark cloak, watching the stars beyond the courtyard wall. Relief struck so violently that it emerged as anger.
“What are ye daeing?” he demanded.
She turned sharply. “Good heavens, Colin. Must ye appear from darkness like an accusation?”
He frowned. “I have searched the entire castle.”
Her expression changed. “I told the guard where I was going.”
“The guard neglected tae tell me.”
“I only needed air.”
He could not let it go. “At night. Alone.”
“I am inside the castle walls.”
“Robert’s men have entered guarded passages.”
Elspeth’s mouth tightened, but she did not answer sharply. Instead, she stepped closer. “I didnae mean tae worry ye.”
The simple admission softened something in him against his will. Colin exhaled and looked away.
“Ye did though.”
“I am sorry.”
He stared at her. Elspeth Fraser apologized so rarely that each occasion ought perhaps to be recorded by a priest and witnessed by the Crown.
“I couldnae sleep,” she explained. “The hall was too heavy with grief, and our chamber felt close. But I didnae leave the walls. I thought that would please ye.”
“It pleases me considerably less than finding ye in bed would have done.”
Her cheeks warmed. “A most romantic declaration.”
He grinned, realizing the double entendre. “I am kent fer them.”
Elspeth smiled and turned back toward the night.
Colin stood beside her. Above the courtyard, the sky stretched black and clear, crowded with stars.
The horses shifted softly in their stalls, filling the stable with the warm smells of hay, leather, and animal breath.
For several moments, neither spoke. Then voices sounded beyond the row of stalls. Elspeth went still.
A young woman laughed softly. Colin recognized the stable boy’s answering whisper, followed by the rustle of skirts and a muffled protest containing very little conviction.
Elspeth covered her mouth. Colin looked at her.
“What?” he mouthed.
“Naething.”
Her face had become remarkably red. Understanding came slowly, then all at once.
“This is the pair ye saw before.”
She glared at him. “Lower yer voice.”
A kiss sounded from behind the partition. Elspeth’s flush deepened. Colin bent near her ear.
“Daes it affect ye the same way now?” he teased.
“Nay.”
The answer came far too quickly. His mouth curved. He placed one hand at her waist beneath the cloak, drawing her back against his chest. She stiffened when his lips brushed the curve below her ear.
“Colin,” she whispered.
“Aye?”
“They are near.”
“I noticed.”
His hand moved slowly over the fabric at her waist, no more than a teasing caress. Elspeth drew in a careful breath. Colin felt the response move through her despite every attempt she made to conceal it.
“Liar,” he murmured. She turned her head enough to glare at him. “Ye are intolerable.”
His eyebrow lifted. “And ye are already trembling.”
“I am cold.”
“That excuse improves with repetition.”
The maid gave another breathless laugh nearby.
Elspeth bit her lower lip to keep silent.
Colin’s satisfaction became dangerous. He kissed the side of her neck, allowing his hand to drift lower.
Slowly, drinking in the fragrance of her skin, he lifted the hem of her gown, pooling it around her waist. He expected her to stop him, but she was trembling under his touch.
Interesting.
The stable boy whispered something that neither of them could hear.
Colin remained close until the voices faded. Only then did Elspeth turn within his arms.
“What are ye daeing?”
“Testing a theory.”
“In a stable?”
“It was where the evidence presented itself.”
“We might have been seen.”
Her eyes were bright. Her breath remained unsteady. Colin could not take his eyes off her.
“Is that what excites ye?”
“Nay.”
He raised one brow. Elspeth’s gaze slipped toward his mouth.
“A little,” she confessed.
Heat moved through him. Colin drew her closer until no space remained between them, pressing his throbbing manhood against her bare skin.
“Then, wife,” he whispered, “we may have discovered something else ye shouldnae have admitted tae me.”
Her eyes narrowed, though her hands rose to his shoulders.
“I begin tae regret teaching ye honesty.”
“Nay, ye dinnae.”
Elspeth kissed him before he could prove it. His hand slipped into her loosened hair as hay rustled beneath their feet. Without thinking, he pulled away from her ravenous kiss and dropped down to his knees.
“Colin, ye cannae mean tae—”
“Shhh,” he urged, as he lost himself underneath her gown.
He took her into his mouth as if he were feasting on his favorite dessert.
He heard her strangled moan, and with every tremor of her body, his own need for her heightened.
His tongue slid inside of her, tasting her sweet juices, while her breathing became heavier with each flick of his tongue.
He parted her wet folds, as he felt his manhood throb in yearning.
She lifted her leg and rested it on his shoulder, offering herself up to him, and all he could do was comply. He slid a finger inside of her, and that only made his tongue more greedy. She trembled under his touch, and he knew that she was close.
He played with her, suckling her, stroking her with both his tongue and his fingers, when she finally pressed her heat against his lips, and her entire body tightened under his touch. He gave her a moment, then pressed a reverent kiss to her most sacred flesh, sliding her gown off his head.
Her cheeks were blushing, and she was smiling. They were still not alone, but that did not seem to matter. Her eyes darkened as she lowered her gown and then pushed him against the wall.
He liked it.
“What are ye daeing?” he whispered.
“Shhh,” she echoed, pressing a finger to his lips.
Then, he felt her hand on his trousers, gently massaging his manhood. He swallowed heavily, waiting to see what she would do next. He expected a kiss, a touch, a glance, but not the most carnal sight of all: her on her knees before him.
He wanted to stop her, but her grip on his mind, soul and body was absolute, and all he could do was let go.
She made quick work of his kilt, and then her bare fingers wrapped around his palpitating manhood. Only that would have been enough to make him explode, but he had to control himself.
She offered up her tongue to him, and the very touch felt electric.
“Dammit, Elspeth…” he groaned.
There was nothing civilized in him now. He was all beast, ravenous for his wife to take all of him inside of her wet mouth, but he reminded himself that he needed to be gentle. She could not even imagine what her wet kisses did to him, what her tongue stroking against his shaft did.
He gripped her hair tenderly, but hard at the same time.
“Slowly, Elspeth,” he warned, knowing that he would not be able to control himself much longer.
She did not seem to heed the warning. Instead, she took him into her mouth, sucking, as she moved front to back, swallowing a bit more of him with each thrust. Fire exploded somewhere inside his belly.
His entire body tightened. It was beyond anything he could ever have imagined.
He had never experienced such a rush from a woman’s mouth.
His orgasm swallowed him up furiously, and his mind exploded, bucking against her lips as he finished. When she pulled away, her lips were still wet and swollen.
He pulled her up and pressed her against the wall.
“I want tae be inside of ye,” he murmured against her lips.
“Then take me,” she whispered back.
He did not need to be told twice. When he slid inside of her, she was wet and sensitive from her climax and this. He wanted to kiss her, but the sight of her burning eyes while he claimed her was too potent.
“Like this?” he asked, sliding in and out of her, while her own eagerness made her heat welcome him.
“Aye,” she moaned. “More, more…”
His body held hers, pressed against the wall, taking her, claiming her harder each time, until they both exploded with their lips locked and their fingers intertwined.
And although they both still refused to accept it, their hearts were just as intertwined.