Reckless by Hannah Howell

16

For two long weeks Ailis had been kept in bed. For two more even longer weeks she had been forced to play the semi-invalid. She was heartily sick of all the pampering that had been heaped upon her. All around her spun the rumors of the MacCordys and the MacFarlanes preparing an attack, but she was protected from all of that. She knew that she had to take it easy, but her well-intentioned multitude of nursemaids carried matters much too far. It seemed to her that she was more well rested, more well fed, and far more healthy than she had ever been in her entire life. In the last two weeks she had begun to wean them all of their protective roles. Now she planned to end Alexander’s excessive gentleness with her and—specifically—his continued, self-imposed abstinence.

“Ye dinna need to build that fire up any more, Kate. ‘Tis summer or did ye forget that? Sweet heavens, I will soon be seared on this side,” Ailis grumbled as she got into her tub.

“ ‘Tis to keep away a chill.” Kate stubbornly put another log on the already-roaring fire.

“The only reason I contracted a chill was that I had to push myself so hard so soon after bearing Moragh.”

“Well, a body canna be too careful.”

“That proverb has recently been proved a great fallacy,” Ailis snapped. “This particular body has been ‘carefuled’ to death.”

“Why must ye bathe? Ye had a bath but two nights past.”

“How old is Moragh, Kate?” she asked.

Kate stared at Ailis in slight confusion. “Two months.”

“Exactly.” Ailis sent Kate a look she was sure a blind man could read and understand.

“Oh, I see.” Kate blushed furiously, but then brightened. “I have just what ye need.” She hurried out of the room.

After wrapping herself in a warm drying cloth, Ailis sat before the fire to let the heat dry her hair. She was busily plotting the best way to convince Alexander that she was not only able but quite willing to resume their lovemaking when Kate returned. Ailis took one look at the light, sultry linen and lace nightrail Kate held up and clapped her hands in delight. It was one of those pieces of soft flirtation every woman craved and most men found very alluring.

“Are ye sure ye are ready?” Kate asked as Ailis slipped on the thin nightrail.

“I willna embarrass ye by answering that,” Ailis drawled, but grinned when Kate giggled. “This ought to change his lairdship’s ways. Or, should I say, bring them back. I had never suspected that Alexander was hoping to be declared a saint. I hope he willna find the failure to obtain that lofty goal too painful to bear.”

 

Alexander felt near to breaking under the strain of his self-imposed celibacy. The last few days had been the worst. He had barely seen Ailis at all. To be close to her yet to be unable to touch her was more than he could bear.

After his bath he sprawled on his bed with a tankard of wine in his hand and wearing only a drying cloth wrapped loosely around his hips. He had hoped that feeling chill would keep away the fever for Ailis which consistently burned inside of him, but he could sense that it was not really working. The rich wine helped a little if only because it finished what hard work had begun and eventually sent him to sleep despite his aching need for Ailis.

A sound at the door that connected his bedchamber to the room Ailis now used drew him from his sullen slumber. He stared with widening eyes and slowly sat up as Ailis entered his bedchamber. She wore a white nightrail of the finest sheer linen trimmed with delicate falls of lace and pale blue ribbons. The gown heightened the soft golden hue of her skin and the deep blue-black color of her hair. Desire gripped him so fiercely he was unable to move.

“Do ye want something, Ailis?” he asked in a weak, hoarse voice as he struggled to lift his gaze from her well-displayed breasts to her face.

Ailis smiled as she walked over to his bed and sat down. “I see ye so little during the day that I thought we could sit and talk now.”

“Talk? What do ye wish to talk about?” He wondered frantically how a woman could look so seductive yet so innocent at the same time.

“I dinna ken. There must be matters of some sort that a husband speaks of with his wife.”

“Aye. Must be.”

No matter how hard he tried to think of some subject to discuss, Alexander found that he could only think of one thing—hurling Ailis down onto his bed. Her scent engulfed him. He was painfully aware of her slender thigh brushing up against his leg. A badly stifled groan escaped him as he lay down and closed his eyes.

“I would dearly like to talk with ye, lass, but I am far too weary this night,” he mumbled. “Ye had best go back to your own bed. We can try this at some other time, loving.”

Ailis slowly stood up, her hands set squarely on her hips. The little he wore was not enough to completely disguise his arousal, yet he was sending her away without even offering her a kiss. She wondered crossly just how long he felt she needed to heal from the birth and her fever. It also hurt that he did not seem to be as eager as she was to share some time together before the fighting began. She decided she would not wait for him to do something; she would act. Carefully she slipped out of her nightrail, laying it neatly over a stool near the bed. With far less care than speed she reached out and yanked off Alexander’s brief covering.

Alexander cried out in surprise, his eyes opening wide as he sat up. “What are ye about, ye mad lass? Jesu!” His words choked to a halt as he greedily looked her over, her inviting nakedness barely shielded from him by her thick hair.

“I said I was wanting to have a wee talk,” Ailis said.

“Talk?”

“Ye squeaked.” Ailis could not stop herself from giggling over hearing such a sound escape such a strong, beautiful man.

“I didna squeak,” he grumbled, then tried to speak with some air of command. “Put your clothes back on.”

“Nay.” With far more speed than grace she climbed into bed beside him.

“Ailis!” Alexander finally realized that Ailis was not really after some conversation, and he was a little surprised at how much passion had dulled his wits.

The sight of Alexander’s long lean body taut and beautiful in arousal had Ailis aching for him. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed, then sprawled on top of him. Ailis knew his confusion was what made her aggressiveness such a success, but it was still exciting. She cupped his face in her hands and brushed her mouth over his.

“Ye have been very ill,” he protested in a hoarse voice. “Ye have just borne a child.”

“That child is two months old.”

“The fever only left ye recently.” He wondered why he was arguing so strongly for abstinence.

“Recently? ‘Twas over a month ago. I am hale and hearty. Prepare yourself, Alexander MacDubh,” she said in a voice that was rapidly growing thicker as she rubbed her body over his.

“Prepare? For what?” he asked in some confusion as, just as he finally reached for her, she pinned his wrists over his head with one small hand. He could easily break the hold, but he made no effort to do so, patiently awaiting her reply and very curious as to what she intended to do to him.

Ailis’s voice held a seductive mixture of passion and laughter. “Because ye are about to become the first man in all of Scotland to be forcibly taken by a desperate woman.”

The laughter that her playful remark stirred inside of him faded along with hers as Ailis eased their bodies together. Her aggressive game and his stubborn opinion that abstinence should be maintained a while longer shattered together. He was not sure who grasped the lead in the resultant fierce lovemaking, shifting as it did from one to the other until ecstasy’s release gripped them both, and he did not care. He held on tight and let the pleasure they shared sweep over him. It was a long time after their shared release that he was able to move or to think very clearly.

“I do feel a bit ravished,” he murmured when they finally stirred enough so that he could pull the sheet over their sated bodies.

“Only a bit?” Ailis snuggled closer to Alexander, rubbing her cheek against the hard warmth of his chest.

“Aye. Ye will have to try much harder next time,” he drawled, laughter invading his voice.

“Well, I fear there is a price for such ravishment, and ‘tis one ye may not be wishing to pay.”

“Oh? And what is that price?” He slowly combed his fingers through her unbound hair, savoring its thick silkiness.

“Three or more months without me in your bed.”

“It takes that long for ye to feel the hunger?”

“Nay. It takes that long for me to become so deranged with it that I grow this bold.” She laughed with him.

“I was becoming a bit deranged myself,” he murmured.

“To speak truly, I did think that ye were acting a wee bit strange . . .”

“Did ye, now.”

“Aye, I did. I canna think that ye have often told a naked woman to put her clothes back on.”

When Alexander finished chuckling, he turned so that he and Ailis were on their sides face to face. “Not that I can recall. I have certainly not thought on telling ye that since the very first time I set eyes on ye. Ebony and gold,” he murmured. “Soft night and warm sunrise.”

“Ye make the curse of my looks sound like a blessing.” Ailis flushed slightly with pleasure over his soft flattery.

“Sweet wee Ailis, your looks arena a curse. Ye have paid far too much heed to the talk of fools. I wouldna put my name on a whore. Nay, nor an ugly woman if I could avoid it. ‘Tisna ugliness that continues to set my blood afire each time I look at ye.” He gently kissed her. “Spanish women can be most alluring,” he said, smiling faintly as he saw the breathlessness his kiss had left her with. “Aye, and Scottish lasses can be very fair. Ye have the best of both breeds. How ye do blush when ye are flattered, lass.” He caressed the high color in her cheeks with his fingertips.

“I am unused to it, ‘tis all.”

“Aye, I canna see ye hearing many kind words from the MacFarlanes or the MacCordys. ‘Tis to my shame that I havena given ye much of pretty words and compliments. I used to be very skilled at such things.” He lightly brushed a few stray wisps of hair from her face.

“I dinna need pretty words,” she mumbled.

“What do ye need, sweeting?”

She avoided meeting his gaze, afraid to meet his rich blue eyes directly because of what he might be able to read in her eyes. His question was a difficult one for her to answer. Although he had married her and set aside his vengeance, at least as it concerned her, he had given her no real clue as to his feelings. Pride demanded that she keep her love for him a secret until she could be certain that it would be returned. If she was not very careful in replying to his question, however, that secret would be revealed. Although there were hundreds of times when she ached to speak her heart to him, it was a weakness she knew she would not give in to. Aside from her pride, she feared the hurt she would suffer when Alexander offered no similar declarations.

Alexander sensed Ailis’s reluctance to respond, and he frowned. He grasped her by the chin and gently forced her to face him. It was hard to read much more than wariness in her eyes, but that was enough to pinch at him. He knew he deserved it just as he knew that he was not fully sure of her yet. All thought of making her a part of his vengeance had left him, and although he knew he had done little to assure her of that, he knew that she knew it. Nevertheless, they remained wary of each other. He was suddenly weary of it all. Only when they were caught up in the full glory of their passion was there nothing between them, and that was simply not good enough any longer.

“Come, loving, from the first time she is born, a lass kens her destiny is to be wed, and she begins to make plans. Didna ye ever make any plans or nurture any hopes?” he asked.

“Well, there was one—I hoped that whoever took me as his wife would also take in Mairi’s children and love them. Although what happened wasna at all as I had expected, I have gained what I have wished for.”

“I canna believe that it is all ye thought on.”

“Nay.” Ailis tried to think of some way to phrase her hopes without declaring herself or appearing to demand some response in kind from him. “I did wish for a man who wouldna be too old nor too ugly. I also wished for a man who wouldna beat me nor shame me by bedding nearly everything in petticoats. ‘Tis no more than most lasses wish for, I suspect. ‘Twas as I grew older that I began to wish for something a wee bit different.”

“Oh aye, and what was that?”

“That I would be wed to one who wouldna try to force me to be some meek and mindless wench who must bow to his every whim and willna argue, will agree with his every utterance. I had wished hard for a man who wouldna find what I am naught but a source of fury and shame. I wanted a man who might see me as more than someone to breed his heirs, and more than someone to keep his household in order.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I was just never sure of quite what that more was.”

Although he sensed that she held something back, Alexander decided not to press her on the matter. “Well, now I think I can, and have, filled every one of those wishes. I willna surround ye with squawling bastards. Whilst I would never swear that I would never succumb to a weakness of the flesh, I willna seek lovers and lemans. I willna treat the vows we took as if they are naught but words tossed to the wind.” He touched a gentle kiss to her mouth. “Ah, lass, ye warm a bed well enough for any man.”

“Even for one rumored to have bedded half the women in Scotland?”

“Aye, even for him, though I never met the greedy fool myself.” He smiled when she giggled, but then grew serious again, lightly tracing the shape of her face with his fingertips as he spoke. “Nor do I want a meek wife, for all I may bellow and order ye to recall your place. ‘Twould drive me to a fury to spend year after long year with a lass who did naught but smile and agree. Nay, a wife with some strength and wit can only be good for a man. What soured that in my stepmother, my wives, and Barra’s wife, Agnes, was that they also held greed and guile. Ye dinna taint the good with the ill, lass. I hold no fear that ye will plot behind my back if ye disagree with what I say or do.”

She heard that fleeting expression of trust and felt elated but said nothing. Instinct told her that, if she made a great ado about it, she would halt what was a revealing conversation because Alexander could suddenly realize how open he was being. He had said it, confessed his trust, and she decided that was good enough.

“Is that what Agnes and the others did, Alexander—plot and betray ye?” she asked, hoping that she would finally hear the whole story, would finally discover why he had soured toward women.

“Aye.” Alexander sighed and his face hardened as he remembered the wrongs done to him and Barra. “They held no guilt about using treachery or betrayal to gain what they craved. Power and coin were their only goals, their only loves. Their games and plots brought naught but misery to Rathmor. Aye, and a death or two. The lies my stepmother told and the promises she made as she tried to grasp all the power she could gained us more enemies than allies. ‘Twas one of her twisted plots that led my father to your uncle and his death.”

Ailis wished she had not asked about the women. The very last thing she wanted was to remind Alexander of the anger and hatred he had for her uncle and the MacCordys. She had already taken a chance by reminding him of the grievance he had against women. Although he could see her as being unlike those other women, there was no way for him to see her as not akin to a MacFarlane. She cautiously met his glance and breathed a silent, hearty sigh of relief when she saw none of that fury directed toward her. It was there, simmering behind his fine, desire-softened blue eyes, but it was not directed at her. Finally he saw her simply as Ailis, not simply as a MacFarlane.

“And they also started a war that is yet to be decided,” she murmured.

“It will be done on the morrow.”

It took Ailis a full moment to understand the implications of what Alexander had said. She stared at him with a growing look of openmouthed surprise only faintly aware of how closely he watched her. Then she grew angry and sat up, the sheet clutched to her chest.

“On the morrow?” she repeated in a quiet, taut voice. “There is to be a battle on the morrow?”

“Aye—on the morrow.” Alexander was not surprised by her anger, but he was fascinated by the way it turned her lovely eyes black and stormy.

“And just when did ye plan to tell me about this?”

“On the morrow.”

“In time to dodge the first arrow, I pray.”

She knew that she had been purposely kept ignorant, and it infuriated her. Some of her anger was directed at herself. She had seen the signs of an approaching battle; they had not been able to hide everything from her. Yet she had never questioned, never asked for more information, never pressed for the details. She had been too concerned about her own private troubles, about her child, her ills, and her husband.

What she did not really understand was why—why would they keep her ignorant? Then a chilling thought settled in her mind, one that struck her to the heart. Alexander had kept news of the impending battle from her for one reason—he feared she would betray him. She muttered a curse and leapt from the bed, too furious to be concerned about her nudity.

“Ye dinna trust me. Ye just said that ye kenned that I wouldna plot behind your back, but ‘tis plain to see that ye didna mean in every way.” She bit out the words as she gathered up her flimsy nightrail and started toward the door to her own sleeping quarters.

“Ailis, what are ye babbling about?”

She turned to glare at him, wondering how he had the audacity to look so confused, so handsomely irritated and befuddled. “I speak of my insult, and ye call it babbling?”

“What insult?” he bellowed. He was truly astounded that, for the first time in his life, a woman had him totally confounded.

“Cease this game, Alexander MacDubh.” She jabbed her finger in his direction, giving it an occasional firm shake to stress her words. “Ye waited until now to tell me of this battle because ye feared I would turn spy for my kinsmen.”

“Ye are mad! Get back here and listen to some sense.”

He sounded so arrogant, so condescending and commanding that Ailis briefly considered marching back over to his bed—to punch him right in that perfectly shaped nose. “Nay. I believe I have played the fool enough for now. In truth, I am so glutted by it that I could be ill.” She started back toward the door to her chambers.

Alexander cursed and leapt from the bed. He bounded after Ailis. She saw what he was doing, but too late to escape him. He grabbed her from behind and, ignoring her curses and flailing limbs, strode back to the bed. He tossed her down, wrestled her onto her back, and then pinned her down with his body. When he finally looked at her, face to face, he had to grin. Her hair was in such a tangle over her face that there was little more to see than two glaring eyes peering through. He pushed her arms up over her head so that he needed only one hand to grasp both of her wrists and then began to gently clear the hair from her face with his free hand.

“I have never had such difficulty with a female,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on her nose when he uncovered it.

“Now I am a ‘difficulty,’ am I?” The way he felt pressing his body against hers and the way he was touching soft kisses to her face as he idly brushed aside her hair was making it difficult for her to keep a firm grip on her anger. “Get off of me, ye great blond oaf.” The last thing she needed was to have her righteous anger quelled by his beauty and her own passion, yet she could see just how easily that could happen.

“Ye couldna possibly guess just how much of a ‘difficulty’ ye are, lass,” he muttered. “I didna think that ye would betray me or the people of Rathmor to your kinsmen, loving. In truth, ye betraying me never entered my head in all of the battle planning I did, and that was when I realized how much I trust ye.”

She fought against allowing his soft words to stir her hopes to life again. “Yet ye have done your best to keep me completely ignorant of the battle to come. I had heard some of the rumors, but I thought my over solicitous nursemaids sought to protect me from it all and that was why I heard or was told so little.”

“To protect ye was exactly what I was trying to do. Dearling, we are about to fight your uncle, the last of your kin. This battle we face on the morrow is between your blood kin and your wedded kin. ‘Tis your uncle on the attack against the kinsmen of your child and Mairi’s children. ‘Twas a quandary I but wished to protect ye from.”

“For ye feared which side I would choose to stand on.”

“Nay, I kenned very well which ye would choose—me and mine. ‘Tis another thing that told me that I was no longer seeing ye as a MacFarlane whom I happened to be cursed with a desire for, but as the lass I desired who just happened to be a MacFarlane. It has been a very long time since ye were all part of my vengeance, lass—a very long time. Didna ye ken that?” He felt that the tension, the resistance in her had ceased and loosed his grip upon her wrists. He had far better things in mind to do with his hands.

Ailis did not wish to be distracted, but the way Alexander ran his hand slowly down her side from shoulder to hip was accomplishing just that. She tried to fight the seductive allure of his skilled touch, to resist the way it pushed all thought from her mind. What he said, the way he explained his actions, made sense, yet she was not sure she ought to completely trust him. He idly smoothed kisses over her throat and breasts and she decided she had better decide on his truthfulness before she completely forgot her grievances against the man.

“Why should I believe ye?” she asked, her voice little more than a breathless gasp as he slowly lathed the tips of her breasts with his tongue. “Ye have made your mistrust of women clear.”

“I have, but—answer me this—have I e’er lied to ye?” He gently rubbed his body against hers and watched her face, loving the way her cheeks grew flushed and her eyes became heavy-lidded.

“That doesna mean that ye wouldna. If we are to have a reasonable talk, then ye must halt your play. I canna think straight when ye are doing that.” She trembled when he slowly drew her swollen nipple deep into his mouth.

“What else is there to be said; what else can be said? I have told ye why I tried so hard to keep ye ignorant of this battle. I canna prove that what I have said is true. I can only swear to it. On my oath, I but sought to save ye the ordeal of having to turn against your kinsmen. Do ye believe me or nay?”

“Oh, aye, I think I do.” She twined her arms around his neck and held him as close as she could while he suckled her breasts.

“Ye think ye do?”

“In truth, I can think little at the moment.” When his stroking reached the upper inside of her thighs, she opened herself to him and sighed with unrestrained pleasure over his intimate caresses. “I fear that the way ye touch me steals all of my wits.”

“Good, I much prefer a witless lass.”

Ailis laughed, knowing that he was jesting, then gave an audible sigh of delight as he teased her midriff with soft kisses and teasing licks. “For a man who was working so hard to be a monk, ye have become most greedy.”

“Ye have recalled me to the pleasures I was so foolishly denying myself. I mean to drink my fill ere I face the battlefield on the morrow.”

The reminder of the impending battle briefly checked Ailis’s soaring passions. Although she wanted to wholeheartedly believe in a MacDubh victory, she could not ignore the chance that she could find herself back in the grasp of her kinsmen. Her child she might be able to protect—even if she had to proclaim him dead and allow some other woman to take him away—but there would be no sure way to save Alexander. This could be her last night with him. This particular night of pleasure could be the one that formed her last memories of him.

At that moment he touched his soft warm lips to the inside of each of her thighs. She fought her usual modesty when he then replaced his tenderly stroking fingers with his mouth. There was nothing she would deny him tonight. There was nothing she would deny herself. She gave herself over freely, with complete abandon, to his intimate kisses and savored his words of approval as much as she did the pleasure he gave her. It was a pleasure she intended to return to him tenfold. When he strode out to do battle in the morning, he might not have all the rest he should have, but she intended to have loved him so well that he would kill anyone who tried to prevent him from returning to her.

 

“Alexander?” she asked when she finally recovered from a fourth round of heated lovemaking.

Sprawled on his stomach at her side, Alexander found the strength to slip his arm about her waist and tug her closer. He knew he ought to get some rest, but he was starved for her. Each touch made him want more, each kiss made him crave another one. Each time they made love, he was eager to recover his full strength so that they could make love again. He discovered that he also liked just lying there with her or talking to her—depending on what she wished to discuss, he mused with a wry smile.

“What is it, sweeting?” He lazily nuzzled her ear.

“Just how is this battle to be fought?”

“ ‘Tis an acre fight.”

“An acre fight.”

It was to be as horrid as she had feared. She shivered a little, edging a bit closer to his warmth. “Why canna ye hold at Rathmor and let them try and take ye? Ye could win then. My uncle and Donald MacCordy wouldna be able to breach these walls.”

“Mayhaps not, but we wouldna truly win, either. Aye, ‘twould appear as if we were victorious, for we would still hold Rathmor and our enemy would retreat, probably with some large losses. And then what?”

“We could have some peace and respite from the turmoil?” she asked, but there was no hope or conviction in her voice, for she knew what he was going to say and she knew she would have to acknowledge the truth of it.

Alexander lifted his head enough to kiss her cheek. “I wish I could give ye that. And, mayhaps, I can, but it willna be by staying up on my walls. Nay, such a battle will only allow us to poke at the body of the adder that is coiled against us. We must cut off the adder’s head. That can only be done by meeting our enemies on an even ground and sword to sword. Those who lead must be cut down. I am sorry, lass, for they are your kinsmen, but that is how I feel it must be if there is ever to be an end to all of this.”

“No need to beg my forgiveness. I have the sense to see the truth of all ye say.”

“Then come, kiss me, smother me in your sweet passion, so that I will march to meet my enemies with a sure step and victory as my fate.”

Ailis kissed him and heartily prayed that she could do just as he had asked.