Highland Flame Page 22

  “Bari does,” she reprimanded him. “And that needed no translation—your tone was quite telling.”

  Bari was grinning and showing off his two missing front teeth. “He said—”

  “I know what I said, lad, but the lady does nae, and she is a lady.” Diocail found his shirt and pulled it on. “What has ye coming up here in such a hurry?”

  Bari’s expression changed instantly. “The men are…” He looked at Jane and froze, his eyes large and round in his young face.

  “Doing what?” Diocail demanded as he pulled his boots on.

  “They are…lifting their kilts…doing what the mistress told them no’ to do, and the women in the kitchen are threatening to cut off their…manroots…and…and…oh please, get dressed, mistress!”

  Bari looked around the room and found her clothing. He dragged it over to where Jane was peeking at him. “Ye’re too hot under there, mistress,” he exclaimed. “Yer face is all red…”

  Diocail choked on his amusement a second before he scooped Bari up and headed for the door. He deposited the boy at the opening and pointed him down the stairs. His kilt was still draped over his arm as he looked back at Jane.

  “I’ll deal with the men.”

  “I can do very well on my own, thank you.”

  Diocail didn’t heed her. No, he closed the door behind him and left.

  Well, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit it was a relief to have something to keep them from being alone now that the sun had risen.

  Curse Fate.

  Bari’s words rose from her memory, and she threw the covers back. Her temper sizzled as she fought to get into her dress. By the time she found both of her shoes, she was in a full fit. Of course, the Gordon retainers wanted just that.

  Jane stopped in the stairwell, contemplating her next move. She drew in a deep breath before descending the last steps as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Diocail lifted an eyebrow, but his men sent her looks that made it clear they expected no better of her.

  “English noble…”

  “Sleeping late while others do the work…”

  Dolina let out a little growl, and many women standing in the hall nodded agreement.

  “The mistress”—Eachna stressed the last word—“works as hard as any of us.”

  “The lot of ye should be ashamed,” another woman said.

  The scent of fresh urine was strong. Jane lifted her nose and sniffed long and hard. When she finished, Diocail was looking at her with one eyebrow raised, waiting to see what she was going to do.

  Part of him was actually looking forward to it.

  “It would seem,” she said as she faced the kitchen staff, “that the men…” Jane fluttered her eyelashes. “Our lords and masters…” There was grumbling as she made the statement. “Prefer filth to hot meals on the tables.”

  Understanding began to dawn on the women. The men had been puffed up with pride, intent on their course of action. A few began to follow her thinking, and they didn’t care for the conclusion they arrived at.

  “To carry food through filth would be very careless of us…” Jane smiled at the men.

  “Aye,” Dolina stepped up. “Someone could take ill.”

  “Be a terrible thing for us to be responsible for,” another woman added.

  “So,” Jane stopped in front of Diocail and lowered herself. “We will not bother any of your men with our efforts to make this a fine home. For you all…” She sent a glance around the clustered group. “Have made it very clear that you prefer…rough conditions.”

  She straightened and shot the men a firm look before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. The women followed her.

  Valkyrie.

  Diocail stood and watched Jane go, enjoying the way she held her chin steady.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” one of the men demanded.

  “It means,” Kory bellowed at the man who’d spoken, “we’re no’ getting anything to eat on account of yer behavior.”

  The men broke into curses and complaints. One of them pointed at Diocail.

  “Take yer wife in hand.”

  The boldness of that demand sent silence through the men as Diocail turned to face the perpetrator. His retainers waited to see if the insubordination would be tolerated.

  “Was this yer idea?” he asked softly. “This display of yer…what exactly is it, man? Truth be told, I can nae imagine why any of ye thought pissing inside yer own hall in the dead of winter was a grand idea.”

  “She was disrespectful yesterday.” The man nodded. “Needed a lesson.” He sniffed. “Like the one ye gave her, showing her who her master is.” He made a vulgar motion with his hips.

  Diocail felt his temper heating, but Kory snorted and pointed at the men. “Ye need to learn that it is always wise to keep the cook happy!”

  Muir let out a chuckle. “Aye. We’ll all be learning how important that one is now. The tables are going to be bare until the women are happy, make no mistake about it.”

  “But…they have to cook.” The man still wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “I’ll get the priest on them.”

  Diocail grunted. “Shut yer jaw, man. Keep on like that, and ye’ll be sorry when they serve up something that will tear yer insides up. I am no’ so great a fool as to turn a blind eye to the improvements me wife has brought to this hall.”

  “She ran from ye.”

  Diocail slowly smiled. “That’s part of the fun.”

  Damned if he didn’t enjoy the sound of that a bit too much as Muir sent him a questioning look. Diocail took a moment to sweep his men with a hard glance. “I suggest ye all get to scrubbing that passageway. I doubt ye’ll be eating another hot meal until it’s clean and as sweet-smelling as a spring meadow.”

  Narrow-eyed looks were cast at the ringleaders. It became clear who they were as the main body of the men broke away, moving off to begin cleaning the passageway.

  “Part of the fun?” Muir questioned Diocail softly.

  Diocail sent his captain a hard look. “Bring Kory, Aylin, and Niven.”

  His men were quick to join him in the room that served as his private study. The room was off to the back of the hall and still filled with Colum’s things. Only the long table that served as a desk had been cleared off as Diocail began the process of bringing the contracts and books to order. There was a pile of messages stacked in one corner large enough to knock him flat if it fell. He suspected some of the letters might be older than he was himself. But there were more pressing matters.

  “Jane named Keefe as the man who abducted her.”

  There was a stiffening of his men. The others who had claims to the lairdship were well known because Diocail was no fool. He’d keep his friends near and his enemies closer still.

  “Are ye saying ye believe the lass now?” Aylin asked.

  Diocail felt the sting of guilt burning a hole in his gut as he nodded. “I am no’ certain of anything except there is no reason for her to know that name or to think he might have reason to harm her. Preventing me from having an heir would be something Keefe would be very interested in doing if he still had his eye set on me position.”

  “Unless she’s been getting the women in the kitchen to talk,” Muir countered. “Now that they’ve accepted her, she might well have learned who the other bloodline relatives are.”

  “Aye,” Diocail replied. “I thought of that as well.” He held up his forearm. “She turned on me with a drawn dagger when she did nae know it was me in the dark.”

  His men looked from the thin line of dried blood back to his face.

  “So,” he continued. “I think I’d be a fool to dismiss the fact that she might have been telling the truth. It is no’ in Jane’s nature to strike out like that, and she was frightened. I saw it clearly, and it shamed me to know she feels that way inside this tower.”

  That made them shift. Guilt was making the rounds through them all, for none had spoken a kind word to h
er since they’d returned.

  “If ye take a moment to think it through,” Muir began, “that business at the mill was suspicious.”

  Diocail grunted. “Aye, she said she had a goose egg on the back of her head.”

  “And ye dismissed that?” Niven asked incuriously.

  Kory elbowed him. “Ye didn’t think to ask how she ended in the water either.”

  “None of us did,” Aylin admitted disgustedly. “To my shame, it never crossed me mind to question the incident.”

  “Which would make this two matters, and if we take the lass at her word, that means we’ve been negligent,” Muir said.

  Diocail nodded. “She needs looking after, but we still need to know what is truth and what is nae.” He locked gazes with Muir. “Keep it quiet. If Keefe is trying to get rid of her, I need to catch him with the evidence to make it plain to the rest of the clan. For her sake more than me own.”

  His men nodded and tugged on the corner of their caps. Their support brought him a measure of relief, but the tension between his shoulders persisted.

  The reason was simple.

  He wanted her.

  Uncertainty was smoldering inside him, and the problem was he wasn’t sure if it was going to die out or erupt into flames. He wanted it to die. Wanted to be able to move past his injured feelings and go forward, but he didn’t think he would ever banish her from his mind.

  Or his heart.

  * * *

  Her bedding was missing when she made it to her chamber that night.

  Jane blinked once she finished barring the chamber door and took in the bed set up in place of the spot where she’d been sleeping. It was quite the sight for sore eyes. No gold-and-gem bit of finery would have pleased her more.

  She smiled as she moved toward it, reaching out slowly to stroke the thick bedding spread out over soft sheeting. A pair of plump pillows waited for her head as the scent of rosemary assured her it was clean.

  “I am glad to see it pleases ye.”

  She wasn’t as startled by Diocail as she’d been the night before. The truth was he’d been in her thoughts for most of the day, so it was simply fitting to have his voice come out of the darkness. He moved away from one of the far walls.

  “Ye might have directed the staff to see to the matter before now,” he said.

  Jane looked back at the bed, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. She had felt as if the steps leading up to her chamber were almost impossible to mount because of how tired she was, but now her body was warming at his appearance.

  “Say what ye are thinking, lass.”

  This was the side of his nature she had no defense against: the man who had moved his men away so she might bathe and spoken so frankly about why they had to wed. She shifted away from him.

  He let out a soft grunt. “I see I have made a grave tactical error in no’ directing the staff to put this bed against a wall.”

  Understanding dawned on Jane, making her giggle softly. He raised an eyebrow as he sent her a look across the bed. “So it amuses ye to think of me chasing ye around the bed?”

  “You would be disappointed if I simply flopped down in the middle of it and assumed a submissive position to perform my wifely duties.”

  So very brazen…and it pleased her to the core to know she didn’t have any intention of simpering with him.

  Diocail’s eyes flashed with enjoyment. Hard, male enjoyment.

  “Let’s not be hasty now.” He braced his hands on the side of the bed. “Ye have no’ ever tried…flopping down on a bed…perhaps we might give it a go-round—”

  “It would serve you right if I did exactly that.” She was being tart once more, but he could leave if she displeased him.

  Instead, his lips twitched, forming that grin that she seemed to enjoy so very much. It was only a fleeting moment though before his expression hardened. “Are ye barring that door against me?”

  “No,” she snapped.

  The flare of temper disgusted her, and she shook her head. “Please go. I do not want to argue with you.”

  He offered her a soft grunt. He’d straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest while considering her across the expanse of the bed.

  “Perhaps we might settle this matter,” he began.

  “I’m not certain what you are talking about.”

  He came around the bed. Standing in place took more discipline than it should have, but it seemed she forgot just how large he was. Sensation rippled across her skin. He stopped only a pace from her, and her heart started to accelerate.

  “We wed under difficult circumstances,” he began.

  Jane nodded.

  Her response pleased him. She found it touched her deeply to see it flash through his eyes. Brown eyes.

  Warm, secure, strong. She didn’t understand why she lamented the fact that she hadn’t been able to stare into his eyes lately; all she knew was that she had missed doing so.

  “So.” He reached out and stroked her face. “Last night…”

  She quivered, the connection of their skin setting off a reaction he felt as well. He paused, his eyes narrowing while he teased the surface of her lips with the tip of his finger.

  Delicious…

  His touch was simply more pleasing than any sensation she had ever experienced in life.

  “Last night,” he repeated, clearly intent on finishing what he wanted to say. “Well…it proved we’ve a fine foundation for this union. More than most couples discover once the vows are spoken and the sheets turned back.”

  Her cheeks were stinging, and she fluttered her eyelashes, but she was also smiling, reveling in the truth of his words. Oh, how she knew that truth!

  “Trust is more important than passion,” she muttered, hating the way the words sounded because she knew they were so very true.

  His expression tightened. But he fought to temper it.

  “I can forgive ye, Jane.” These were difficult words for him to say. She watched the way his jaw was clenched as he forced them out. “Ye have been raised to fear me.”

  He was offering excuses…and she didn’t want them.

  “I did not lie.”

  His expression darkened with disapproval.

  She stiffened, withdrawing a step so his hand wasn’t in contact with her face. She needed that space so that she might think clearly. But he came after her.

  “Do not,” she warned him. The hand she lifted between them was not going to stop him if he decided to press the matter. “I cannot think when you touch me.”

  His lips twitched.

  So arrogant. And yet it sent a jolt of excitement through her.

  “Ye tempt me to forget everything in favor of putting me hands back on ye.”

  It was an admission that echoed the same need she was trying so hard to clamp down inside of herself. “Well, we’ve never shared a bed before.”

  And maybe it would be a terrible thing to waste the moment. Brenda Grant’s words rose once more from her memory to tease her with the opportunity at hand. What made Jane reach for the tie holding her cleavage was the fact that she very much feared those words could also haunt her.

  Diocail’s eyes narrowed as her fingers dipped into the valley of her cleavage. She popped open the knot and slowly began to tug the loosened lace through the eyelets running down the front of her bodice. The plain clothing suited her perfectly right then because she was certain no fancy dress could have put quite the same look on Diocail’s face.

  At that moment, he was mesmerized. By her.

  Which made her breathless and giddy and stoked something deeper inside her. It was that same part of her personality he seemed to unleash. There was so much left unsettled between them, and yet, at that moment, the only thing she cared about was the glow brightening his eyes.

  The night air brushed her breasts through the open front of her partlet shift. It opened down the front like a shirt. The edges gapped with her motions, exposing a strip of bare flesh.

  “C
hrist almighty, if this is bewitchment, I will do yer bidding gladly.”

  His tone was husky, and it sent heat surging through her body. Opening her waistband was a necessity because her clothing felt too tight.

  And warm.

  She let out a little contented sound as her skirts and hip roll slid down her legs to puddle around her ankles. She was left in her shift, exposed to his keen gaze. Diocail took a long moment to sweep her from head to toe.

  “Now watch me…”

  His tone was commanding but edged with need. She obeyed willingly, without a care for how submissive it might seem. She craved the sight of him. Watching him bare his body for her fanned the flames of her desire. His kilt was easily shed, and his shirt didn’t take much more attention. She drank in the sight of him, boldly staring at his cock.

  “No’ just yet.”

  She lifted her attention to his face. It was drawn tight, demand flickering in his eyes.

  “Turn around, Jane.”

  She didn’t want to comply. He knew it, reaching out to cup her far shoulder and turn her. The shift of power between them left her neck tight.

  “Last night…ye took me…” His breath teased her ear, and then he was kissing the side of her neck.

  She shuddered, a soft, breathless sound filling the chamber.

  “You enjoyed it.”

  He chuckled in response. “I did, but tonight ye’ll wait for me…” He stroked the other side of her neck with one fingertip. “And enjoy knowing that I am contemplating where to touch ye next.”

  She shuddered, drawing a chuckle from him that was very male and arrogant enough to have her turning to face him. He clasped his arms around her, binding her against his body instead.

  “Diocail.”

  “I admitted enjoying ye taking me.” He leaned down and bit her softly on the side of her neck. “Tonight ye are going to admit ye like it very much when I claim ye.”

  She wiggled against his hold, not because she truly desired freedom but because she simply had to touch him. Her craving for him was too sharp, too insistent. Desperation was clawing at her insides, and nothing mattered except gaining satisfaction.

  “Get on with it,” she growled.