Devil in a Kilt by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Chapter 10

’Twas nigh onto midnight as Linnet paced the length of her chamber, naked save the linen sheet she’d snatched off the bed and wrapped around herself like a shroud.

In the distance, even through the heavy oak door, she could hear the retreating footsteps of her new kinsmen as they noisily made their way back to the hall after unceremoniously depositing both Linnet and her husband atop her bed.

Her cheeks still flamed at the way the rowdy merrymakers had cheerily stripped them of their raiments.

To her dismay, even Elspeth had participated, clucking like a mother hen, calmly reminding Linnet that such was the way of things, as she’d deftly peeled off each and every layer of Linnet’s clothing – not even leaving her the modesty of her undertunic.

Ignoring Linnet’s protests, her trusted old nurse had left her bare, fully unclothed and as unprotected as she’d been on the day her mother had birthed her.

Totally exposed.

Elspeth had even snatched Linnet’s precious arisaid as she’d exited the chamber. Someone had also locked the large chest containing Linnet’s new gowns.

Not that it mattered to aught but the walls and few scant pieces of furniture, for her husband appeared to have fallen into a deep slumber the moment his dark head hit the pillows.

Still, being locked in a room, without a stitch of clothing, with an equally unclothed man, was a bit disconcerting.

She was cold, too.

Freezing.

“Do you intend to stalk back and forth all night?” her husband’s deep voice boomed from the bed, startling her so much she nearly dropped the sheet she held clutched to her breast. “You’re making more noise than my fool clansmen below.”

“I’m moving about to keep warm, sir,” Linnet snapped, angry at the way her heart responded to the sight of him sitting upright in the bed, his bare chest broad and powerful-looking. Too late, she wished she’d drawn the bedcurtains, thus hiding his masculine splendor from her view.

Mercy, but he was magnificent.

MacKenzie or nae.

Cold-hearted or not.

“A pity none among your men thought to stoke the fire.” She paused near the hearth, pulled the sheet tighter about her breasts. “It would appear they were too intent on undressing us to think about such a minor thing as our comfort.”

She regretted the sharp words the moment they passed her lips, for her husband threw back the coverlet and sprang to his feet. “Then I shall do it.”

Handsome and breath-stealing as a pagan fertility god come to life, Duncan strode across the room, as comfortable with his nakedness as she was uncomfortable with hers.

Light from a brace of candles burnished his skin, casting dancing shadows up and down his well-muscled back as he knelt before the hearth.

Like a lovestruck damsel from a French romance, she gawked helplessly at his noble form, her heart beating faster the longer she stared.

Then, as if the angels above wished to save her the embarrassment of having him catch her ogling him like a brazen bawd, a chill gust of sea wind swept through a window, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room into darkness.

The sharp tang of brine and the darker scents of a cold, damp night laid heavy in the air as Linnet stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

She fair jumped out of her skin when strong, warm fingers curled about her elbow and something even warmer, nae, hot, brushed against her hip.

Her breath caught at the brief contact. His manhood, she was sure.

What else could nearly scorch her through the linen sheet she’d wrapped around herself several times over? What else would send tingles all the way to her toes? What indeed, but that mysteriously masculine part of him he meant to keep from her.

“Come,” he said close to her ear, his breath warming her cheek. “I’ll guide you to bed,” he added, his voice steady and firm, wholly unfazed.

As if he hadn’t realized what part of him had just touched her so intimately.

Or, perhaps closer to the truth, he just didn’t care.

“You needn’t bother. It is not so dark now. My eyes have adjusted to the shadows.” Linnet yanked her arm from his grasp. “Besides, I cannot sleep.”

“Neither can I if you keep poltering about,” Duncan grumbled, snatching back her arm and urging her forward.

Linnet dug her heels into the rushes. “Then I shall sit in the chair by the fire.”

“By the Rood, lass, ’tis cold, I am weary, and my head aches. Dinnae rile me further.” Fair dragging her to the bed, he flung back the covers. “Climb in. I willnae touch you if that’s what’s bothering you.”

She bristled at his harshly spoken words, but scrambled onto the bed, quickly scooting to the far side and drawing the coverlet to her chin.

To her surprise, rather than getting into bed himself, he hastened to the wall where he took down one of the hanging tapestries. As she looked on, he spread the heavy cloth on the floor and began rolling it up.

“What are you doing?” Linnet watched him, although his intentions became clear as he carried the unwieldy column closer and plunked it down in the middle of the bed.

“Naught but assuring myself an undisturbed night’s rest.” He brushed his hands, then settled himself onto the bed – on the other side of the tapestry barrier. “After this night, I shall sleep in my own chamber, and you will no’ be disturbed.”

Feeling chastised and as insignificant as if he’d just informed her he found her less appealing than a gray mouse, Linnet lay stiff and quiet, fearing the slightest movement or sound would only serve to further inflame his ill humor.

Merciful saints, did he think she’d fall upon him in the night?

Would that she had the courage to flee. Exit the chamber and seek refuge elsewhere.

She would, too, were it not for the boy.

For his sake, she remained motionless, not daring to even take a deep breath lest she disturb her husband.

If she meant to help Robbie, she must achieve some semblance of a relationship with his father. Even if that meant suffering through such indignities as knowing he’d likely prefer prowling his castle’s night-bound battlements than bedding her.

Aye, her own feelings mattered scarce little.

Besides, she was used to being unloved.

But for the good of the lad, she must be strong. Duncan MacKenzie could prod her to the gates of hell and beyond, she wouldn’t reveal what she knew about Robbie unless he softened toward the boy.

Until then, she’d maintain a firm stance, anger him if need be. His opinion of her wasn’t of consequence.

It was the lad who needed him, not her.

Linnet swallowed the long sigh that almost escaped her lips. Could she ever bring her husband to accept Robbie?

To admit his love for the child?

Beforehe leaned the truth? Her husband should love Robbie for himself, regardless of whether he’d sired the lad or nae.

Such was her goal, but could she achieve it?

She didn’t know, but she meant to try. Even if the effort cost her last breath.

Outside, wind caught the shutter of one of the windows, slamming it against the tower with a mighty bang that echoed and reechoed in the shadowy chamber.

Linnet sat up with a start, coming instantly awake. She must’ve fallen asleep despite her doubts of being able to do so. Pearly gray moonlight shone through the one unshuttered window, bathing the room in a silvery glow.

She glanced at the man beside her, half-afraid the loud noise might’ve startled him awake, too, but he slept soundly, his breathing deep and regular.

Indeed, he appeared completely at ease, without a care, as he lay sprawled in resplendent nakedness across his side of the bed.

Despite herself, her gaze sought and rested upon his sex, relaxed now, yet no less imposing in its dark virility. As she stared, an exquisite warmth began to curl through her belly. An aching, pulsing heat that intensified the longer she looked upon him.

Heat stole into her cheeks as well, and, embarrassed, she tore her gaze away. Slowly, the tingling warmth in her most feminine core ebbed, and the room’s chill claimed her once more.

Only now she felt empty as well as cold.

Bereft and hollow, as if for a brief moment, she’d had something unique and wonderful in her grasp, only to have it cruelly ripped away from her.

A faint fluttering still rippled through her and, instinctively, she pressed her thighs together to ease the ache she didn’t understand.

She wanted nothing to do with such stirrings.

Not from a man who did not want her.

A man she should despise for his name alone, above all his other shortcomings.

To her great relief, anger gradually replaced the disturbing sensations gazing at his nakedness had aroused in her. Praise God he hadn’t awakened and caught her eyeing him.

Would he have been able to tell her belly had gone liquid and warm at the sight of his virility, his blatant maleness? Could he have gussed how she’d yearned to reach out and touch him?

She shivered.

The possibility he might be able to read her thoughts was unthinkable.

Shaming.

She would’ve died of mortification.

Another loud bang reverberated around the room as the wind once more flung the loose shutter against the tower wall. This time her husband gave a slight groan and rolled onto his side.

Not wanting to risk his waking, Linnet slipped from the bed as carefully as she could and refastened the loose shutter. To her alarm, the rusty latch made a loud grating noise that brought another mumbled groan from the bed.

Linnet froze, her hands on the cold metal latch, determined not to move until she was certain he slept soundly again. Fortune was with her. The sound of his snores soon blended with the hollow whistle of the wind, the patter of rain, and the low drone of nesting bees.

* * *

Nesting bees?

The tiny hairs on the back of Linnet’s neck prickled, standing on end as unease crept up her spine.

She’d not noticed so much as a spider in the chamber. Nor had she seen signs of bugs or vermin in the floor rushes. Truth to tell, they appeared newly strewn. Someone had even scented them with meadowsweet.

Had the bees swarmed into the room to escape the rain? Warily, lest she make a noise, she drew her husband’s blue-and-green plaid off a chairback and draped it loosely around her shoulders against the chill as she scanned the chamber.

She saw nothing.

Even though the whirring noise grew so loud her temples began to throb. The room was empty. Nothing moved save the shadows dancing along the walls.

Then she knew.

Chills rippled all through her as she stared at the oddly lengthening shadows. She watched as they took shape, forming themselves into a copse of trees.

The buzzing reached a piercing level, hurting her ears. Then a cloud of mist rose up from the floor, its shifting tendrils blocking out all but the circle of pines – and the bed.

Fear tightened her throat, and her heart knocked as beads of moisture sprang onto her forehead. ‘Twas only a vision, no more than that, she repeated to herself, trying desperately to cling to the knowledge it’d pass in a moment.

They always did.

But this one was different.

Different, yet frighteningly familiar.

Biting her lower lip till she tasted blood, Linnet struggled to stifle the scream building inside her. She daren’t cry out, mustn’t awaken her husband.

Her lot with him was precarious enough without him seeing her in the throes of one of her fits, as her da called them.

Clamping down harder on her lip, she closed her eyes, hoping the vision would dissipate by the time she opened them again. But the pressure in her head and the humming in her ears only increased.

She had to look.

The nightmare wouldn’t end until she did.

Dread consumed her, squeezing the breath from her lungs, but she opened her eyes and sent her gaze where it had to go…

Straight through the mist to the prone shape stretched upon her bed.

The image there beseeched her with eyes so filled with pain and sorrow their powerful impact near bent her double.

’Twas the black stag.

The beast whose heart had been ripped from its body.

Blood ran down her chin as her teeth sank deeper into her lip, filling her mouth with a brassy, metallic taste.

She tried to look away, but couldn’t. Still as stone, bound by a force stronger than she, Linnet watched the terrifying spectacle unfold.

Then the wretched creature on the bed shifted, changing shape as she’d known it would. Before her eyes, the stag became the man. One whose identity she now knew…

Her husband.

The man without a heart.

And like the beast, Duncan MacKenzie beseeched her with his eyes. Troubled eyes that held her spellbound, forbidding her to look elsewhere.

As before, he reached for her with blood-soaked hands. But this time his mouth worked soundlessly, forming silent words while his tormented gaze held her captive.

“Please… I need…” he pleaded, his voice raw, broken.

His anguish wrapped around her, suffocating her in a stranglehold from which she couldn’t break free. She could only stand immovable and pray the vision end soon lest she perish from fright.

“Please…” he said again, but the word faded, ending on a ragged gasp.

The mists dissipated, too. No longer dense, the thin, curling wisps receded into the floor whence they’d come. And the tall shadows against the walls were once again just that, shadows.

Gone, the dark copse of trees she’d seen but moments before.

She still heard the whirring noise but it, too, lessened as the normal night sounds returned: the light patter of rain against the closed shutters and the sigh of the wind chasing away the unholy drone that accompanied such visitations.

Only he lingered on, his ravaged state growing in terrifying clarity with each breath she took, his anguish a living thing.

A terror so real she could smell the blood gushing from the wound in his chest, almost feel the damp warmth of the deep red stains on the bedclothes, hear his lifeblood dripping onto the floor, where it formed a pool, staining the rushes.

Aye, it was real.

Too real.

Linnet dug her fingers into the plaid, holding it tight as if the nubby wool could shield her from the nightmare before her.

In desperation, she turned away, staring instead at the tightly shuttered windows. She must keep her wits, dared not do anything to disturb her husband.

Or shatter the frightening image.

Ill tidings came to those who tampered with visions such as hers.

A soft rustling sound made her glance back to the bed. To her horror, she saw he’d moved, raised himself up on his elbows.

Pinning her with his stare, he struggled to speak, but his mouth only formed silent words.

And he tried to lean forward.

Why? To reach her?

A shudder tore through her at the thought. Pure terror welled inside her, demanding release. Trembling, she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Then he spoke.

Garbled words she couldn’t understand.

With tremendous effort, he took a deep breath, holding it within as if to gather strength before he released the air on a rush.

The words that burst forth from his lips curdled Linnet’s blood.

“Give back my heart!”

Linnet jumped and released the cry she could hold back no longer…

An earsplitting shriek that echoed through the castle and was surely heard all the way to the farthest shores of the loch.