Reckless by Hannah Howell

8

“It took them six weeks to say ‘nay’?” Ailis muttered.

“I kenned that they were slow-witted, but this defies understanding.”

Ailis reread the wrinkled parchment missive from her uncle, which bore her betrothed’s faint signature. She had been called into Alexander’s solar, barely been allowed time to appreciate the large windows and abundant light in the room, before she had been read the letter from her kinsmen. Her tart statement that she could read had drawn a mild response of polite surprise from Alexander, and he had given her the note to read for herself. That had not changed anything. It had simply let her see the somewhat painful truth for herself. Even her own blood wished to use her as a pawn. It did not really surprise her, but it still hurt. She sighed as she sat on a padded bench before one of the windows.

“There is little to understand,” Alexander said. “They plainly say they have no wish to pay for ye or the bairns.”

She ached to slap Alexander’s beautiful face, but crumpled up the message she held instead. “Aye, but they took a long time to do it, and they have taken no action against ye in the meanwhile. Oh, they might cast me aside so callously, but not the bairns. The bairns are far too useful. And now they have lost the good weather. Well, nearly. ‘Tis late August. Soon the fall rains will come, then the winter snows.”

“And then the spring rain, thaw, and mud.” Alexander shook his head. “We could be saddled with your keep for a year.”

That was one callous remark too many, and Ailis leapt to her feet. “Ye need not be saddled with my keep for another moment. I can be out of your way in no time at all.”

Alexander swore. Moving swiftly he was able to stop her from leaving the room. He put himself between her and the door just as she reached for the latch. Simply getting word from the MacFarlanes and the MacCordys had been enough to put him into a bad humor. When he had seen the hurt in her eyes, a pain caused by the cold rejection of her own kinsmen, he had softened. He had wanted to soothe her hurt. That reaction had stirred his fear, the dread he carried constantly that she could and would stir his emotions, and he had responded as he always did—by slapping her away with cruel words. However, he knew he did not want her to leave Rathmor altogether.

“Sit down, Ailis,” he ordered.

“Why? What is the use? My kinsmen and betrothed have cast me out, and ye clearly dinna want me.”

“Oh, I want ye.” He reached for her, but she slapped his hands away.

“Not that way.” Ailis was determined not to allow him to kiss her into unthinking acquiescence.

“Just sit down again.” He bolted the door and almost smiled at the way she glared at him before she returned to her seat. The bolt was far above her head, and he knew that disadvantage annoyed her. “We shall try to talk this out like adults, without rancor or anger,” he said as he returned to the writing table he had been sitting at.

“ ‘Tisna me who has trouble with that,” she muttered, her annoyance growing when Alexander simply ignored her. “What purpose is served by my staying here any longer?”

“If naught else, ye help with the children. It pleases them well enough to have ye around.”

And what about ye? she thought and was briefly afraid that she had spoken aloud. As she had learned of Alexander’s troubled past, she had tried to be patient with him, to understand how much history stood between them. Nevertheless, she found it painfully difficult at times. One minute he was cold to her, the next he was gentle and passionate. He could whisper sweet words all night, then insult her with the sunrise. The man would drive her mad. She suspected that she loved him, that that was why she cared how he felt and could be so hurt by his words, but she did not want to confront the emotion, for then she would no longer be able to deny it.

“What we need to decide is—what does Colin MacFarlane mean by this?” Alexander mused aloud.

“That he doesna want us back. What else could he mean?”

“A great deal, lass, and I think ye ken it. Ye ken the man your uncle is. What game do ye think he plays?”

“The game of ‘toss my burdens into another’s lap’?” She sighed and shrugged when he gave her a mildly disgusted look. “He wants ye to think he has done just that so that ye will ease your guard on us, mayhaps even throw me out so the man can snatch me back at no cost to himself.”

“ ‘Tis what I think,” he agreed. “I have it on good authority that your uncle petitioned the king to have me proclaimed an outlaw.” Alexander found himself divided in how he felt about her horrified reaction to that news. One part of him was pleased, and the other doubtful of the honesty of her reaction.

“Outlawed?” she whispered and shuddered. “That would have allowed anyone to kill ye.”

“Exactly. The king refused. After all, the children are of my blood. I had already sent a man there to make that claim, and it was enough to give me the right to do what I did. Also, a few old friends used their influence on my behalf.”

“And will they help ye if there is a battle?”

“Nay, I couldna ask them to. This is my battle; ‘tis a private battle. I willna have them risk themselves for the sake of my purse and my pride. ‘Tis my vengeance, and I must exact it.”

“Oh, aye, and get murdered what family ye have left.” She knew that beneath the hurt and bitterness Alexander was a good man, and it irritated her to think that even a good man could get blindly caught up in a matter of vengeance.

“Do you believe that your uncle or your betrothed will just step back and ignore the insult I have dealt them? Aye, or the chance to gain more of what is mine?”

“Nay, but I had hoped ye wouldna be so keen to plunge into battle.” She stood up and paced the room. “My uncle wants ye to believe that he is defeated. That could mean one of two things—he has a plan to strike, or he hopes to trick ye into some carelessness. Both things require that ye now let down your guard, that ye believe that he has quit the game.” She turned to look at Alexander, her hands on her hips, and frowned when she saw how he stared at her skirts. “If ye wouldst pull your lecherous mind out from beneath my petticoats, we may yet come to some decision over my uncle’s latest move.”

Alexander felt no embarrassment about being caught indulging in a pleasantly salacious thought. He had been nicely aroused by watching Ailis’s slim hips move as she had paced. Despite sharing a bed with her for six weeks, he still found her every move interesting, almost her every gesture inviting. He met her disgusted look with a smile.

“Aye, your uncle does mean to try and trick me into letting down my guard. But he will find that I am not so easily fooled.”

“It seems odd that he has left it so late to try this ploy. If it fails, then he has no other choice but to wait until spring. ‘Tisna often that one can make a successful attack in the winter.”

“He will have to act now and be quickly successful if he is to end this by winter.”

“And ye dinna think he will act now or quickly.”

“Nay. He hopes to make me take the first step—a misstep, of course. By the time he decides I willna do as he wants, then ‘twill be too late to do anything until the late spring, early summer. Soon we will reach the time of the year when, if ye arena hindered by the snow and the cold, ye are caught in the rain and the mud.”

“Then I had best be on my way, or I shall soon be trapped here.” She saw by the quick, sharp way he looked at her that he would fight her leaving Rathmor, and that both relieved and irritated her.

“And just where do ye think ye would go?” Alexander knew it would be wise to just let her go, but he also knew he would not do it. “Ye are still my prisoner.”

“Why? What reason can ye have? My kinsmen willna pay, so ye gain no profit from keeping me. Since there isna a man in all of Scotland who would believe me a maid after I have stayed six weeks with ye, then ye already have your vengeance. There is no more use for me here.”

“As I have said—ye care for the children,” he said roughly. “They like ye to be near.”

“So I shall stay near. I just willna remain in Rathmor.”

“Ye will stay here!” he yelled as he stood up and slammed his fist down on the table.

“Why?”

“Because ye can still be useful here. Aye, and ye could prove useful to your kinsmen. There is a lot ye could tell them about Rathmor—about its strengths and weaknesses. Nay, ye will stay here until I give you leave to go.”

“So be it, but I willna stay in your bed.”

“I hadna noticed that ye found it such a distasteful place to be.”

“Ye have some skill, and we both have a passionate nature.” She shrugged. “I grow weary of being the pawn in this game between ye and my uncle. Ye took my maidenhead, let that be enough. If I must stay here, then ‘twill not be to continue as your whore. Ye shame me before the children, and I willna abide it any longer.”

“Fine, have it your way.” He strode to the door, unbolted it, and yanked it open. “Get out.” As she started by him, he grabbed her by the arm and forced her to look at him. “Ye will soon change your mind.”

“I dinna think so.”

“Nay? Ye hunger for what we share as much as I do.”

“Aye, but ‘tis a greed for something offered only at night. Ye slip into the bed, and we grab at the heat we share like bairns after a sweet. Then comes the dawn and ye turn cold, pushing me aside. I dinna think even using me to strike at Donald made me feel quite so much the whore as that does. I have had enough of it. Since ye only spare me such warmth at night, in that bed, then I shall take myself away from ye at that time and in that place.”

“Ye willna be able to hold to this plan.”

“I will, for ye are a cold, even cruel, man during the day. Ye offer a lass nothing. Ye blame me for things I had naught to do with. I grow weary of being the brunt of your troubles and angers. Keep them. I shall miss your skill and the hint of feeling ye gave me in the night, but it no longer outweighs the shame of how ye treat me all day.” She yanked free of his hold and marched away.

Alexander watched her until she was out of sight, then slammed the heavy door after her. He knew what game she played. She wanted him to offer her more than his passion. He would not. Never again would he open himself to some woman, trust her, and make himself vulnerable. He had already given Ailis far more than he had given any other woman in several years. If Ailis was too blind to see that, then it was simply too bad. He would not invite her back into his bed.

 

A chill wind slipped through the torch- and moonlit bailey, and Ailis held her cloak more securely around her. It was only mid-September, but it was already colder than she liked. She feared it would prove to be a very long, hard winter. That was the last thing she needed, she thought as she glared up at the tall familiar figure on the west wall. He was not looking at her, but instinct told her that he had been. Alexander had become like some persistent shadow, watching her all the time. It was growing almost impossible to ignore.

She released a soft, bitter laugh, then quickly checked to be sure no one had heard her. There were a few people who already questioned her sanity. After all, only a madwoman would leave Alexander MacDubh’s bed. At first Ailis had found that attitude faintly amusing. Now she wondered if there might be some truth to it. There were times in the night, when she lay awake twisted with hunger for Alexander, that she questioned her own sanity. All she seemed to get in return for her attempt to regain some dignity was sharing a bed with Sibeal and dreaming about sharing one with Alexander. She also spent a lot of time in the evening walking around the inner bailey, trying desperately to soothe some of the growing emptiness, the tense restlessness, that was stealing so much of her sleep. Ailis hoped people would think her walking was due to her growing tired of captivity, but she feared they all knew exactly why she walked almost every night.

As she started a third circumvention of the keep, she finally caught Alexander looking at her. He stood up on his wall flanked by three men-at-arms and stared down at her. She stuck her tongue out at him. It was childish and she knew it, but there was a mild sense of pleasure in it.

Alexander heard the snickers of the men near him but decided to ignore it. He started to walk along the wall, following Ailis. It had been nearly a month since she had left his bed. Once or twice he had contemplated using one of the other willing wenches at Rathmor to ease the hunger that gnawed at him, but he knew they would be no help. Once or twice he had even contemplated going and getting Ailis and dragging her back to his bed. What could she do to stop him? Each time he had asked himself that question, Alexander had decided that he did not really want an answer. So he slept alone. Or, at least, he tried to sleep. More times than not he lay awake wanting Ailis. He had begun to avoid her as much as possible, afraid that his need would overwhelm his sense of right and wrong, and that he might actually try to forcefully take what she refused him. The thought of that appalled him.

“So why do ye stalk her now?” he muttered to himself as he reached a narrow flight of steps that led to the bailey and started down them. “Ye would be wise to stay away. Ye are in a condition where begging wouldna be beyond all possibility, and she would sore love to hear that from ye.”

“Sir?” asked a man-at-arms who waited patiently at the foot of the steps.

“Where did that lass go?” Alexander demanded.

“Around the corner, sir. ‘Ware, ‘tis dark in that part of the bailey,” the soldier called after Alexander before starting up the stairs to take his turn upon the walls.

“Perfect,” Alexander mumbled as he caught sight of Ailis and hurried after her.

Ailis heard someone following her and started to turn around only to be grabbed by the arms and tugged over to a sheltered niche in the keep’s high walls. “Alexander, leave me be,” she demanded as he gently but firmly pinned her against the walls.

“ ‘Tis very dark here.” He grasped her hands when she put them against his chest and tried to push him away. “ ‘Tis dangerous. Ye can never say what might happen.” He threaded his fingers through hers, then held her hands out to the side and against the wall.

“Aye. I could be accosted by some randy fool.” She tried to keep her tone of voice cool and steady, but it quickly wavered and grew husky when he rubbed his body against hers. She could feel his arousal, and that fed her own. “What game is this? Do ye mean to take by force what I have refused to give ye?” He kissed her throat, and Ailis knew that if he released her hands, her only hesitation would come as she tried to decide whose clothes to rip off first.

“Nay, but I could make ye want it—at least once.”

“That ye could and that could also make me angry with ye.”

“I will take my chances.”

She gasped with a pleasure she could not hide when he nipped at her breasts through her bodice. He kissed her with a hunger she quickly matched. When he released her hands, she wrapped her arms around him to hold him closer. He slipped his hands down her back, cupped her backside, and pressed her more tightly against him.

They were both panting for breath when Alexander finally ended the kiss. Ailis kept her fingers entwined in his thick hair as he slowly knelt before her. He slid his hands beneath her skirts. She gasped when his lightly callused fingers touched the bare skin at the top of her stockings.

“No braies,” Alexander said, his voice soft and thick as he gently stroked her with his fingers. “What have ye done with the braies Jaime convinced ye to wear?”

“I was abed when I thought to take a stroll. I didna bother to put them on.” She wondered where she found the wit and strength to talk with her body trembling so from his slow, intimate caress.

“Have I made ye want it at least once more?”

“Mayhaps,” she whispered, knowing that she would probably run him through with his own sword if he walked away from her now.

“Ah, but we must be sure about such matters. Lift your skirts, Ailis,” he asked in a soft, demanding voice.

The shadows and her own hunger made her bold. Slowly she lifted her skirts until all he had so gently caressed was revealed to him. She gasped with a mixture of shock and rich pleasure when he touched a kiss to the raven curls there. Then he stroked her with his tongue. Ailis started to cry out but quickly stuffed her skirts into her mouth. What protest she had planned to make had already faded. She clutched her skirts tightly, using them to muffle her exclamations of pleasure, even her demand for him to stop as her release drew near. He continued to love her with his mouth, bringing her to her crest and beyond. Weak-kneed and heavy with satisfaction she began to sink toward the ground, but he kept a firm grip on her hips. He continued to kiss and stroke her with an intimacy that swiftly restored her need.

Alexander felt her tense, and he stood up. He released himself from his hose even as he kissed Ailis. She was blind with need for him, and he savored it. He also shared it, stirred beyond bearing by her passion.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, dearling,” he ordered, his voice echoing the trembling in his body.

Ailis did as he told her to and groaned her delight as he joined their bodies. She clung to him, savoring the intense pleasure his every thrust sent through her. Even as he tensed and shuddered, holding her tightly as he spilled his seed inside of her, Ailis lost herself in the blind fulfillment of her own passion. She was only vaguely aware of her cloak being removed and of Alexander drawing them down onto the ground.

As Ailis came slowly out of her daze of repletion, she realized she was curled up in Alexander’s arms on top of her cloak. She shyly and nervously looked around to make sure that no one could see them, relaxing when she saw that it would at least be very difficult. Then she came to a full realization of what had just occurred, and she cursed.

“Ah, are ye preparing to deny the ‘aye’ ye just gave me?” Alexander asked, watching her closely and wishing he could see her shaded features better. Her face was always a clear window to her emotions, and he felt better when he could see her expressions as they talked. It eased some of his doubts.

“I never said aye.” She wondered if that was the full truth, for, after she had said mayhaps, her memory of what she had and had not said was not particularly clear.

“Not with words but with every sweet inch of your wee body ye said it loud and clear.”

“ ‘Twas but a moment’s weakness.” She tried to sit up, but he easily pinned her beneath him, and she did not fight it.

“A moment’s weakness? ‘Twas quick blind hunger. Admit it. Ye miss being in my bed.”

There was an arrogance to his tone that made her ache to strike him. Unfortunately, he spoke only the truth. It was also true that he had sorely missed her being there, but she knew he would never admit it. The frenzied lovemaking he had just indulged in was the only admission he would make. She would have to accept that.

Ailis inwardly sighed. Abstinence would pull no words from him. She had been foolish to believe that it would. It had been her pride that she had soothed by leaving his bed—no more. If Alexander ever wanted to speak of his deepest feelings to her, it would not be because she told him no, and it would not be because she had made him so hungry for her that he lurked around Rathmor and seduced her in the shadowed niches of its high walls.

It had also occurred to her not long after she had left his bed that it might not have been the wisest of moves. She had placed herself at a distance, and that was not the way to win a man’s affections. That was especially true of a man like Alexander, who carried a lot of hurt and bitterness. What she had to ask herself was—was a man like Alexander worth a few lacerations to her heart and pride? The answer was an unequivocal “aye.”

“Did ye miss me in your bed?” she asked him and was not surprised to feel him tense ever so slightly.

“Ye are an exciting lover.”

“Such sweet words,” she muttered. It was not going to be easy to stay with a man who had locked himself away.

“I am not a man for sweet words. If ‘tis a swain of flatteries and constant declarations that ye seek, then ye are looking in the wrong direction.”

“Nay, I expect nothing. I begin to fear that ye have no more to give save for your lusts. I have already asked ye for words, spoke my thoughts clearly, and got only a cold stare as I left. Well, ye have shown me that I still crave the one thing ye do offer freely. So I shall take it.”

Alexander wondered briefly why he did not feel far more victorious. “Then ye shall return to my bed.”

“Aye, but I will make one demand.”

“But I have just told ye—“

“No need to run, my timid lover. I dinna ask for any more than common courtesy. Ye will cease to spit your anger at me. I have done ye no wrong, and I deeply resent being punished for sins I havena committed.”

He grimaced and dragged his fingers through his hair. “I ken it. ‘Tis just that I find it hard to forget that ye are a MacFarlane.” He eased himself off her and sat at her side.

“I dinna ask ye to forget that. ‘Tis what I am.” She sat up and tried to put some order back into her tangled clothing. “However, I dinna have to account for the sins of my kinsmen at every turn. That cold disdain causes me shame. The sneer and the insult ye would heap upon me that made me feel like a whore. ‘Tis the cold disrespect ye showed me whenever we were out of bed that made me leave what we could share in bed. I willna be treated that way. I dinna deserve to be treated that way.”

“Nay, ye dinna.”

“So, ‘tis agreed? I will return to your bed, but only for as long as ye treat me with courtesy in and out of the bedchamber?”

When she held out her hand, he shook it. “Agreed. Ye will have that courtesy for as long as ye remain at Rathmor.”

“Ye couldna resist adding that, could ye?” she mumbled as she stood up and brushed off her clothes.

“ ‘Tis but the truth.” Alexander stood up, picked up her cloak, and draped it around her shoulders.

“Aye, and one should never shirk from the truth.”

As she started toward the path that would lead her back into the keep itself, Ailis nearly laughed. There was a strange twisted humor in the way Alexander acted. He could not seem to pull her back to his bed fast enough, but that was enough to scare him, so he reminded her that she would have to be leaving some day. She could not help but wonder if the man needed to remind himself.

He quickly fell into step at her side, and she covertly watched him. His every movement was graceful. The man could set a thousand lasses’ hearts aflutter with just a smile. He could seduce any woman with just a few soft words spoken in his deep, sensuous voice or a warm glance from his beautiful eyes. Ailis was certain that even the most saintly of women would have at least a passing thought about how it would be to share his bed. And yet, he guarded himself. The man feared his own emotions, feared more hurt and grief. It was endearing, even hopeful, for such fears proved he had a heart, but it was also frustrating. Yet again she could be paying dearly for something that was not her fault.

“Are ye already changing your mind?” Alexander asked as they entered the keep.

Ailis suddenly realized that her steps had slowed as she had sunk into her thoughts. She could sense a tension in Alexander, could see a look of stubbornness upon his face. He thought she was about to refuse to go back to his bed, and he was trying to think of a way to get her there without making any demands or promises. She was almost tempted to let him try.

“Nay. I am not changing my mind.” She was stopped from saying any more when Jaime and Kate stepped out of the great hall. “Ah, Jaime, how do ye fare? I havena seen much of ye lately.”

“I have been helping Mistress Kate prepare for the winter. Ye seem well, Mistress Ailis,” Jaime murmured.

“Aye, well enough, considering that I must endure MacDubhs day in and day out.” She ignored Alexander’s frown, and it was as she did so that she realized Jaime and Kate were holding hands and blushing faintly. “Off ye go, then. Dinna become a stranger,” she added, then immediately felt ashamed of her twinge of jealousy.

“Nay, I never could.”

After Jaime and Kate murmured good sleep and disappeared toward the kitchen, Ailis sighed and started up the stairs toward the upper chambers. Jaime was in love with Kate. The man could not hide it even if he knew how to be discreet. Ailis tried not to worry about him, to discard the matter as being Jaime’s business and none of hers, but she found that impossible. Jaime was, in many ways, like a child. She could no more stop worrying about him than she could about the twins or Sibeal. Even knowing in her heart that Kate was a decent, kind woman did not help. She needed some reassurance, and as they reached the door to Alexander’s bedchamber, she turned to him.

Alexander saw the frown on her face and reacted immediately. He picked her up in his arms, carried her into his chamber, and bolted the door behind him. In a few quick strides he reached his bed, gently dropping her down onto it, and then pinned her there with his body.

“I suppose ye think this is romantic,” Ailis said, her voice muffled by her cloak as Alexander struggled to take it off without completely releasing her. When he reached for the lacing on her bodice, she caught hold of his hands. “I should like to ask ye a question before ye continue to try and smother me with my own clothes.”

He easily extracted his hands from hers and began to unlace her bodice again, but slowly. “What is the question?”

“Let me say this first—I believe that Kate is a fine lass, but ye have kenned her for far longer than I, so ye would be a better judge than I. Also ‘tisna as simple a matter as it ought to be. What I need to ken is—is Kate quite serious in how she acts toward Jaime? I mean, is she the sort to be intrigued because he is different, then discard him when that becomes a burden?” She grimaced. “No matter how I ask this, it isna kind to her, is it?”

“Nay, it isna.”

“Well, I canna help it. Jaime is like a wounded child. He was cruelly treated by the closest of his kinsmen—his own father and brothers. I dinna think anything can cut a person deeper than that. He is such a big, strong man, yet inside he is soft and so easily hurt. He has never been any woman’s choice of courtier, although a few have tugged him into bed or the nearest hayloft to see if he is big all over. He would be so badly hurt—“

Alexander lightly kissed her, relieved that she was not about to change her mind and want to leave. “Jaime is the first man our Kate has ever shown an interest in. I shouldna worry about him.” He shook his head. “I should have guessed that ye were frowning over your mighty protector.”

“What did ye think I was frowning about?” Ailis then recalled their unusual entrance into the room and especially the bolting of the door. “Ye thought I was about to say nay again.” When he looked fleetingly guilty, she cursed and shook her head. “If I do naught else whilst I am here, I would much like to prove to ye that not every woman is so fickle of mind—or heart.”

He stared at her for a long moment before replying, “I think I would like that,” and he kissed her before she could say any more.