The Reiver #5
Squinting in the darkness, Jamie closed the stall door behind Curaidh, wincing at the loud creak of the hinges. She paused for a moment, listening for any hint of a human presence, but heard only the annoyed snorts and curious whickers of horses whose nightly rest had been disturbed.
She took a deep, cleansing breath. It was ridiculous for her to be so on edge.
No one would anticipate a reiver breaking into his stables to return a horse.
A smile tickled her lips as she thought about Duncan’s reaction on the morrow, when he discovered his prized steed had been returned – though her brothers, ever the opportunists, had seen to it that the stallion had left a few “deposits” with several of the Johnstone mares in the months before they’d brought him back.
Of course, James and Robbie still thought this entire plan was mad and dangerous.
And yet, perhaps because they felt some latent sense of guilt for her months of imprisonment in Maxwell territory – a fate they considered several orders of magnitude worse than death – they had acquiesced to her decision.
And now, she was but a few steps from meeting them outside.
Not so mad or dangerous this …
“Oof!” Just feet from the door, she came to an abrupt halt against an immovable object that felt remarkably warm and strangely malleable. Rather like a human chest. And a damnably familiar one at that.
Damn and blast!
“So, reiver, we meet again.” Duncan’s voice was low and gravelly and terribly arousing. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her flush against his body. Her eyes widened. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who was aroused. “What did you come to steal this time?”
“You know as well as I that I have not stolen anything from you,” she retorted. Please, let James and Robert have got away. As long as they were safe, she could bear any indignity at Duncan Maxwell’s hands. She reckoned she deserved every one he could dish out after what she’d done.
“On the contrary,” he murmured against the top her head, “you’ve stolen my heart. I was hoping you came to return it.”
The raw, unconcealed pain in his voice took her aback.
“I – I—” she stammered. Her heart hammered like a blacksmith’s mallet against her breastbone. “I came to return Curaidh.”
“I know,” he said softly, grazing her ear with his lips as he spoke.
Gooseflesh rose on her skin, racing down her arm. She didn’t know what to make of this strange situation. It seemed rather more like seduction than detention.
“What do you want?”
“I should think that would be obvious. I want you, Jamie Johnstone.”
She gasped, incredulous. “You know my name!”
“Aye, lass.”
“But – but how?”
“You did not think I just let you escape, did you?”
She stared up at him blankly, a rather fruitless enterprise in light of the darkness. “What choice did you have? You had a slow horse and no clothes on.”
“True, and I could not have prevented you from getting away … not without shooting you, and though I’ll admit I was sorely tempted, I might have missed and shot Curaidh instead.
But in any event, ’twas simple enough to track where you’d gone, runag.
And once I realized you were a Johnstone, it was only a matter of making inquiries of the right people to discover the rest.”
Jamie’s mind whirled. All these months, he had known who she was, who her family was, and yet he’d made no effort to exact justice for the raid. He could have petitioned the Warden for redress, or even the king, but obviously he had not.
“Since then, I’ve been waiting for you,” he added, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Not entirely patiently.”
“What? But – what on earth could have made you believe I would come back?”
He shrugged. “I know you, and I knew you would not steal from me. Not after what we shared.”
“But I ran away—”
He pressed his finger to her lips to shush her. “I did not give you much choice, did I? Telling you I’d never trust a Johnstone. That was why you asked about the scar, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” she admitted. “I wanted to know if you still hated my family for what happened at Dryfe Sands.”
“And I did. Then, and for some time afterwards. And I was furious with you for breaking your promise.”
“I didn’t promise I would not escape. I promised not to try to,” she pointed out.
He chuckled. “Aye, I recall now you were very specific when you made the promise. Notwithstanding, I was very angry – and hurt. I considered coming after you, going to the Warden, demanding satisfaction from the king. But in the end, I realized this is the only thing that would ever bring me true satisfaction.” His mouth swooped down and captured hers.
Aye, aye, he was right. This was the only thing she wanted, the only thing that truly mattered.
She would never want anything else in life if only she could have this – the pepper-sweet taste of his mouth, the warm, solid breadth of his body, and the truths they could only seem to communicate this way.
He lifted his head. “I am ready to declare an end to this branch of the Maxwell-Johnstone feud. What do you say we start a new alliance in its place?”
“I would love that, but what about my brothers? I am not so sure they’ll go along.”
“My brother, Ewan, is out there right now, negotiating a bride price for you. I think ’tis safe to say they’ll find the terms favourable.” His voice dropped an octave. “I’d even give them Curaidh in exchange for you.”
Joy blazed in her heart. “I love you, Duncan Maxwell.”
“As I love you, Reiver of my heart.”