Angel of Skye Page 19

  The sound of horses in the courtyard outside drew Ambrose’s attention.

  “Robert!” Ambrose shouted, then turned to Fiona. “You are upset and in few moments this room will be full of men looking for their supper. How about if we continue this discussion in Alec’s study?”

  She nodded in agreement and followed him toward an open doorway at the side of the hall.

  “You called, Sir Ambrose?” Robert asked, approaching the two.

  “Aye. Tell Cook to prepare a small meal for two and deliver it to the study.” Ambrose turned in the squire’s direction, adding almost as an afterthought, “And I don’t want just anyone coming in and disturbing us.”

  Ambrose led Fiona into a small room lined with maps and books on one end. One wall was adorned with the Macpherson tartan and two shields, one bearing the the clan’s coat of arms. Fiona’s hand went unconsciously to her waist, to the dirk that was inscribed with the same markings, the one he had given her during the time when he was honest about his feelings. She swore under her breath.

  She let her eyes travel to the other shield on the wall. That one bore the MacLeod clan arms.

  Ambrose pushed the heavy oak door partially closed and pointed to a chair by the fireplace for Fiona to seat herself in. She shook her head and started pacing the room again. Ambrose went to the hearth and struck a spark into the prepared kindling. The small fire caught immediately, and he moved across the room, pulling a chair as far from the door as he could. He was not going to be too close to the action if he could help it.

  “Aye, you were saying, Fiona,” he prompted, settling back comfortably. This should be good, he thought.

  “If I knew he cared—” she began, whirling around as the door of the study crashed open.

  In the doorway, Alec stood, his feet spread and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes traveled from Ambrose to Fiona.

  “Welcome home, Alec,” Ambrose said innocently. Robert had taken more time reporting to Alec than he had expected.

  Alec’s glare turned only for a moment to his brother’s open expression before returning to Fiona.

  “What are you doing at Dunvegan?” the warlord snapped, but he could not stop his eyes from slowly traveling the length of her. Damn it! Why must she look so fine? Why must she torture him this way? She was breathtaking. Damn it!

  “I came here to talk to you,” she responded, using the same tone.

  “About what?”

  “About us.”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” Alec said in the most even, unfeeling tone he could manage. Then he steeled himself against the anguish he saw building in her beautiful eyes. The color that rose in her complexion.

  She held her breath and stared at him in disbelief. She knew he was lying. It couldn’t be true. Alec’s face was distorted with anger, but his eyes were betraying him. And then she felt another emotion pushing at the pain she felt at his words.

  Ambrose cleared his throat and stood.

  “I’d better leave you two alone to—”

  “Sit down, Ambrose!” Alec ordered, his eyes never leaving Fiona’s. He hated himself for what he knew he had to do. But a clean break now would be infinitely less painful than waiting until they got to court. It would be only a matter of time before she would be swept away by the seductive lures of the court and her family. He wanted no part of that. And then there was the fact that she was King James’s daughter. Fiona deserved the best, the noblest of men. She would have the opportunity to wed to kings. She would have the chance to live as a queen. And what did Alec have to offer? A man who had not even been able to save her father’s life. It would be much better this way. He had to break it off now.

  Ambrose watched in silence as Alec stepped into the room.

  “You may go, Ambrose,” Fiona ordered in a low voice that hardly hid her rising anger.

  Ambrose looked at the two bulls ready to butt heads.

  “Sit down!”

  “Go. Now!” Fiona’s pitch now carried the full sharp edge of her fury.

  Ambrose slowly worked his way toward the door. Alec turned around in surprise when he heard the oak door close behind his brother. When he turned back in her direction, she was still standing there, her eyes piercing him with their intensity.

  There was a difference in her that struck Alec full in the face. It was in her eyes. There was an unwavering confidence. But he knew that air of assurance had always been there; he had just been too blind to see it.

  It was difficult for Alec to imagine that Fiona could become more beautiful, but it had happened. She was no longer the young nun wearing the modest dark habit of the Priory. Now, she wore a hunter green dress that she looked stunning in. Alec’s eyes fell on the jeweled gold cross that hung below the round neckline and against the tight-fitting bodice of the gown.

  But it wasn’t the change in clothing that held him enthralled. No, he admitted to himself, the change lay not only in her. The biggest difference was with himself.

  From the moment Alec had first laid eyes on Fiona, he now realized, he’d only seen her as an innocent. As someone to protect. He had been too wrapped up in his own world. Like a hero in a legend, the savior of the helpless maiden. All he’d seen had been the difference. All he’d done had been to compare. Fiona was virtue, Kathryn was decadence. He’d been blind to everything beyond that. He’d failed to truly see her, to recognize her, to value her. And now she stood before him. She was unchanged, the same woman…but at last he could see her.

  Fiona had no need of jewels and finery to show who she really was. He knew.

  She was Fiona Drummond Stewart. Unchanged. The same woman she’d been from the first morning on that misty path, clothed like a leper, challenging him like a queen. Wit, courage, beauty, goodness. She was the fairy princess. The Angel of Skye.

  They glared at one another across the room, both hiding the chaos that was spreading inside each of them. Alec stood, his arms folded across his chest, eyeing Fiona, who faced him, fists planted firmly on her hips, eyes green and blazing.

  “The past two days, you have deliberately kept away from me,” Fiona snapped. “And this morning, you openly rejected my request to go with you and Malcolm.”

  “You have many things to do to prepare for your journey.” He shrugged, moving toward his worktable. Turning his back on her, Alec was conscious that he did not want Fiona to see his true feelings, feelings he was sure were clearly etched on his face. Yes, he’d kept away from her, but he had longed for her every minute that they’d been apart.

  “Is that all you are concerned with?”

  “What else is there?” Alec busied himself among the scrolls of paper piled between two wooden blocks on the tabletop.

  She gazed at his broad back. He was suppressing his feelings, hiding them from her, pretending he didn’t care. But Fiona knew he did indeed care. She had seen it in his face when he’d thundered into the room. His had not been the look of an indifferent man. No, Ambrose knew his brother too well. Alec’s response to their being alone together was immediate and explosive. He cared, and she knew it.

  “Something has happened, Alec. You’re different. Angry.” Fiona was going to get his attention, one way or another. She moved directly behind him. He towered above her.

  “Different?” Alec responded without turning around. “I’m exactly the same.”

  “You are not. You have changed so much these past few days. It seems as though another person has taken over and—”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” he interrupted coldly. “Malcolm and David are waiting. You’d better get on your way.”

  “That’s all?” she steamed. “Get on my way? What has happened to you?”

  “Nothing!” Alec said, lifting his eyes from the table and looking straight ahead. He did not want to turn and see the hurt in her. “I am the same. You just never knew me. You’d better go.”

  “You are not telling the truth, and you know it. And as for knowing you, I do, indeed, k
now who you are,” she asserted, poking him fiercely in the back. “You’re a wretched, miserable, fainthearted laird of a rat-infested mainland dunghill.”

  Alec turned, dumbfounded in the face of her choice description. Her fiery eyes challenged him, ready to take him on. The rosy glow of an angry blush highlighted her silky skin. The firm curve of her mouth reflected the anger boiling within her.

  “Deny it,” Fiona pressed defiantly, jabbing her finger into his chest.

  He glared. “You want me to fight you, is that it?” All at once he wanted desperately to hold her, to pull her close in his arms and to try and undo some of the pain that he’d given her.

  “Aye, but I’ve no fear on that account, you low-down, cowardly son of a tinker.”

  Alec looked down at the flaming creature standing with her finger still pointed dangerously at his heart. There was no armor that he could don that would withstand a thrust from a weapon held by her.

  “Really. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

  “Aye. You’re a bleary-eyed, crusty, stiff-necked, dwarf. Devoid of decency, kindness, or passion.”

  One moment Fiona was standing and railing at the looming form, the next she found herself lifted into the air, her mouth stopped by a kiss.

  She felt his lips crushing hers, and her breath caught with the suddenness of the onslaught. His tongue drove into her unresisting mouth, tasting and claiming all that he held. Fiona threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth even harder against hers. Her own tongue swept against his, and a longing for him flared up from the core of her being. Pressed against him, drawing him ever more tightly, Fiona shuddered at the erotic sensation that suddenly flamed in her veins.

  Colors whirled within her, setting her heart pounding and her head spinning. As if in a dream world, Fiona sensed she could not control her body, her life, not her future.

  Alec gripped her hard against his chest, feeling her arms wrap instinctively around his neck. He wanted her. He had tried to fool himself, pretending that he could just will away the longing that he felt for her. But that was impossible, and now the luxurious softness of her mouth confirmed—at a level deep within him—that there was no rejection, no escape, no denial.

  But somewhere even deeper within him, lingering like a patch of spring snow in a dark and shaded glen, lay the certainty of a tortuous challenge, one he was not sure yet how to face.

  Alec pulled his mouth away from hers, but Fiona would not allow more than a breath to separate them.

  “You’re not angry?” she whispered, lowering her hands from his neck and caressing his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart through the smooth linen of his shirt. His scent filled her, bringing with it a deep satisfaction at being near him.

  “I never was,” he replied, brushing his lips downward across her temple, settling finally at the silky triangle beneath her ear. He felt her shudder in response.

  She pushed him back against the edge of the oak table, and he sat, never releasing her. He pulled her to him, spreading his legs to bring her even closer.

  “You are a poor liar, m’lord,” she said, kissing him tenderly on the chin.

  “I just need more practice, m’lady.” His mouth momentarily took possession of hers. Alec’s hands caressed her slender shoulders and her back, feeling the full curve of her lower back, of her buttocks. He pulled her hips against his hardening manhood.

  Her gasp of surprise was involuntary, but Fiona had no intention of moving away from him. She loved the feeling of him around her.

  Alec kissed her again, thoroughly, deepening the kiss. As his hand moved along her sides to the curve of her breasts, he felt her melt against his touch. As his fingers gently teased the nipples he felt hardening beneath her soft green dress, he heard her groan from a place far down her throat.

  My God, she is beautiful, he thought, overwhelmed by the taste and the scent of her. By her unexpectedly open response. By her wholehearted trust in him.

  Alec pulled away from the kiss, confused for an instant by a thought which transcended the present moment. A thought of court and of travel. Of a future that was devoid of life. A future without her. Like a rush of demons, these thoughts came, flooding his brain with images of court, of Drummond Castle, of the obstacles and the people that would try to tear them apart. Into his brain came the cold, loveless face of Kathryn Gray. Alec shut his eyes and fought against the unwelcome image pushing its way into his consciousness. Like a throbbing pain momentarily forgotten, the thought came back to him. Nagging. Unwelcome.

  But then Fiona’s hands settled on his hips, and he looked into eyes that were seeing only him. And they were eyes filled with warmth, eyes that scarcely hid a deep bank of glowing coals, the embers of desire. She was lit from within.

  Lightning flashed in his brain when her tongue traced the line of his lower lip. Her fingers dug into him, reclaiming him.

  Alec’s hands reached around her again, and he moved his hips firmly against her. He could feel her move with him, her warmth grinding gently against his now throbbing desire. He looked into Fiona’s eyes. The look in her eyes told him all he wanted to know. Her look matched his desire. Then her fingers slipped under the cloth of his shirt, and a roaring began in Alec’s head that blocked out the world.

  When Fiona felt his hands on the laces of her dress, an excitement raced through her that she had never before known. She knew what was happening, and she was ready for it. Her breaths became labored as the front of her dress opened to his touch. His hands pulled the silk chemise away from her skin, and his fingers gently slipped across the sensitive aureole of her nipple, and Fiona closed her mind to conscious thoughts, unwanted doubt, and unwarranted fear.

  Alec gazed in admiration at her full breasts, freed of the dress and undergarment that had imprisoned them. As he pushed the soft material down, he felt her pulling her arms out to aid him in his passionate quest. His mouth descended again upon the voluptuous flesh of her upturned mouth. Her parted lips received his in a warm exchange before his tongue traced a line from her chin along the line of her throat and onto the startlingly white skin of her breast.

  Fiona leaned back, her fingers lacing his golden hair, and she held his head tightly to her. Fearing that he might stop, she ceased breathing, but not before a shudder wracked her body.

  The tremor that went through her was enough to tear through the cloud of Alec’s desire. The fires that were raging in his loins were nearly out of control, but he knew that he had allowed his passion to overwhelm his reason. He had to stop. He would not take advantage of his position with her. Their actions right now might be right and good, but they would undoubtedly be suspect to those powers that awaited her. With a Herculean effort to control his actions, his desire, Alec paused momentarily, raising his head and crushing her against him. His lips found the soft roundness of her ear, and he felt her short breaths against his neck.

  “Fiona,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “We must stop.”

  “Alec,” she responded breathlessly. “Why? Why must we stop?”

  His hands grasped the smooth skin of her arms, and he pushed her gently away from him. Looking at the perfection of her body, he drew a breath and pulled her chemise and her dress up onto her shoulders.

  Her thoughts confused, Fiona looked at Alec as he resignedly laced up the front of her dress. Fiona placed her hands on his thighs, and Alec stopped as if an arrow had pierced his body. As they looked into each other’s eyes, she began to slide her hands up beneath the plaid of his kilt toward the arousal she had felt throbbing against her.

  “Don’t!” he nearly shouted, his palms descending on her hands, trapping them between the kilt and his thighs. He glared at her, a half-smile creasing his face. “Fiona, you are not helping me. If you touch me, I know I won’t be able to control myself.”

  “I don’t want to stop, Alec,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “I want to be with you.”

  “Fiona, I want to be with you, too,�
�� he responded gently. “These days away from you have been hell for me. I’ve wanted you beside me every waking moment, and the nights have been long and restless. But this...what we are doing here...this is not the time or the place, lass.”

  “Then why did you stay away?” Fiona let her hands drop to her sides.

  Alec paused, thinking of all that he wanted to say but couldn’t. He knew that the bitterness he felt for court life was a personal experience, and not a shadow that he wanted to cast over Fiona’s future. But he had to explain himself somehow. She deserved an answer.

  “Fiona, you are about to enter a life that holds a great many opportunities for you.” People, position, places. A life he had just turned his back on. One he had no reason…no desire to be a part of. He had been there. As a young warrior, he had been part of that throng. And he had experienced the lust, the greed that went along with it. He had thought himself happy. All the joys of worldly living had been there for the taking. What else could anyone want in this life?

  Alec Macpherson had learned the bitter price of such a life. His own betrothed had given him a taste of what he’d given others. He questioned it now. Whose wife had he himself slept with? Whose heart had he wounded? Which man had lain awake for how many nights wondering whose child his wife was carrying? Aye, he’d never thought of those things then. These comic details of court life. For it had never been him. Not until Kathryn.

  Suddenly, fears that had never before existed now haunted him. He’d had to get away. For the first time in his life, he’d found himself wallowing in a mire of fraud and deception. He found it engulfing him. Drowning him.

  Aye, that was court. People, position, places.

  Alec cast around for a way to tell her of the constant barrage she would face by those offering sugared and empty promises while at that same time sucking the blood from her veins. Changing her. And there would be the occasional honest courtier, but how would she ever pick him from the pack?