Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 (9 page)

“My name is Morag,” she said, extending her hand to Neville. Ronan beheld his mother’s appearance for the first time in a long time.

“I am Neville Stephenson, my lady.”

“Oh, I am no lady,” she said with a grin.

Ronan chuckled lightly. “She would not let me bestow anything upon her that had belonged to my father, including a lady’s title which I could have secured.”

“The only thing of his that I am entitled to is his son. Other than that, he made it quite clear I was not worthy of his wealth,” she said and bowed her head.

Her hair was deep brown like Muren’s and his, her eyes the same dark color as well. She was a beautiful woman. Ronan had always thought so, and now it was clear Neville did as well. He watched the man lift her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes.

“That was his loss,” Neville said.

His mother smiled through her flushing cheeks. Ronan turned away. It was too hard to watch them.

“Enough of that you two; we need to travel far and fast if we are to put any distance between us and the beast dwelling within the castle.”

Ronan gathered them all and they set off westward. There was a village not too far away where he could secure four horses. His mother would have to double with Neville and he was sure neither would disagree. Muren would ride with him.

He was concerned about his sister. She had always had a fragile countenance and had not recovered quickly from the MacKay abduction two years prior. He glanced back at her. Her gaze was cast downward and her skin was pale.

“How do you fare, Muren?” he asked.

“I am well, Ronan. You need not worry about me, brother. I can keep up.”

The conviction in her words was weakened by the softness of her voice. She would need to muster every ounce of strength she had if she were to make it. Ronan had every intention of returning to Tongue with them and placing them directly into Freya’s care. He did not doubt her strength for one second.

A short time later, they stopped to rest just outside the village. Ronan bent to check on Muren. She swiped her tears away from her cheeks but not quickly enough for him to miss them.

He cupped her face. “You will be safe again, Muren, I promise.”

She surprised him then by smiling. “If anyone can do it, Ronan, ’tis you.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek then gave him a hug.

“Neville,” Ronan said, “stay here with my mother and sister. Colin and Allain, come with me to find some horses.

Chapter Eight

Her neck hurt and her ears rang. She had been walking with the wee laddie for an hour. His wails did not cease and she prayed she could get him to quiet before his mother returned. Freya had offered to help with the bairns as soon as Ronan left to give her something to occupy her body and mind so she would not focus on the huge ache in her chest.

She had managed to keep their night a secret, but Nessia  hinted she knew something.

Freya shifted the laddie to her other shoulder and hummed in his ear. “Sweet darling,” she said. “Your mama will return in a minute. I have you, my sweet.” When he stopped crying altogether she turned to the door to find Nessia and the wee lassie just coming in. She too was wailing.

They placed the babes side by side and the crying stopped. “I have never seen anything like it,” Bridget said from behind Nessia. “They’re too small to recognize one another, but the second they are separated, they wail.”

“They sense one another,” Nessia said. “One heart in two bodies. ’Tis nature’s way of always ensuring they have someone who loves them.”

Is that what Ronan was to her? The keeper of the other half of that one heart? If so, then the Fates were surely cruel.

Freya rubbed the back of her neck as she walked to the window. Gazing out, she had a perfect view of the village. Her gaze drifted to the road leading into the centre of the village and four sauntering riders. Before long, she recognized Neville and Colin. Her heart sped up as she then recognized Ronan riding with a woman seated in front of him. Muren!

Freya dashed to the hallway and down the stairs. She darted into the great hall to collect Fergus who’d been studying the maps again.

“Fergus, he is returned! He has rescued them!”

Fergus looked up with confusion on his face.

“Ronan,” she said. “He is back!”

Fergus followed her to the front of the house to where some clansmen practiced with wooden swords. They paused and watched the riders approach. Freya’s pulse quickened when she made eye contact with Ronan.
The other half of her heart
. Her cheeks heated when he smiled at her.

“I see you have been successful,” Fergus said.

“Aye, we have. I do not understand why though. It was all far too easy, in my view.”

Fergus cocked his head to the side. “Do you think you were followed?”

“No,” Neville said. “We came by a different route and stayed off the main road as much as possible.”

Fergus nodded. “Very well then. Come inside so the women can be cared for and I can show you our progress. I have had word from the MacKenzie. There has been a delay with the ships because of stormy seas.”

“I thank you for your hospitality,” Ronan said. “Fergus, this is my mother, Morag Grey, and my sister, Muren Grey—but you’ve already met her have you not?”

Freya nearly choked at Ronan’s comment. She chanced a look at Fergus to gage his reaction and caught the grin on his face. She had to remind herself that these two men had been bitter enemies longer than they have been allies.

“Aye, and were it not for my meddlesome sister, she would not have escaped.” Fergus reached up and helped a pale looking Muren down from her horse. “You have nothing to fear here, lass. And so that you know, you had nothing to fear then, either.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Muren said.

“I will have none of that,” he said. “I am Fergus.” Muren tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Fergus,” Morag said. “My son insisted on bringing us here for safekeeping or else I never would have dreamt to impose upon you in this way.”

“Nonsense.” Freya linked arms with the two women and guided them inside. “There is nowhere you’ll be safer than here. Come, let us get you a bath and some fresh clothes. You must be exhausted after your abduction and journey here.”

Freya sensed Ronan’s gaze on her. She chanced a look over her shoulder and caught him staring at her backside. His eyes snapped up to her face and he blushed. The heat she gloried in was back in his gaze and moisture pooled between her thighs. She turned back to the two women and led them toward the kitchens.

Once there, she introduced them to Alice and arranged for a bath in the upstairs guest chamber. She helped them bathe and ensured they had plenty of food and drink.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Freya,” Morag said as she finally tucked Muren into bed, then sat beside her near the fire.

“You are more than welcome and entitled to it.”

“True, our families have become intertwined, but you do not owe us anything.” After a short pause, she added, “I have always hoped things could have been different for you and Ronan.”

Freya said nothing. What could she say? By agreeing, she dishonoured her commitment. By denying, she dishonoured herself and Morag by lying.

Morag leaned forward and grasped Freya’s hand. “Freya, I know he still loves you.”

“I am promised to another,” she said. Morag opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. “Fergus has made an agreement with the MacKenzie for his son, Rorie and I am to become betrothed. It would have already occurred had Ronan not arrived with his terrible news.”

“Do you love this Rorie MacKenzie?”

Freya shook her head. “No. But he is a good man, and the marriage will do both our families honour.”

“And what about your heart?”

“My heart has nothing to do with marriage.” Freya had a hard time believing her own words. “I have agreed to the commitment, and to break it now would cause a rift between the clans we cannot afford.”

“’Tis true it might be difficult, but you do not need to be the sacrificial lamb in this. Men are men, and they will always make bargains and break them. Why should your life and happiness be the cost for the clans to continue as allies when they have always been so?”

Morag had a point. Could she talk to Fergus? Should she? Her head spun with the implications.

“I appreciate your point of view, Morag, but you do not know Fergus, or Kenneth MacKenzie. They are the most bull-headed, determined men I have ever known.”

“And so is my son,” she said. “I do not think he will give up so easily, love. I just thought you might want to know what you are up against.”

“What do you mean?”

“As I said, Ronan is still in love with you, and I believe is determined to have you for his own. You share real love, Freya. That is not something to toss away lightly.”

Freya stood. “Toss away? You do not know how much I have suffered, knowing I cannot marry the man for whom I would give my last breath.”

Morag smiled. “So, you do feel the same way.”

Freya opened her mouth to speak and realized the clever trap she had fallen into. She grinned. “You have a mischievous way about you, Morag.”

“Please, sit and talk with me some more. I do not wish to upset you. The truth is, I lost my love many years ago and never recovered it. That man caused much harm to those around him, yet there was still something in him that connected us. I would not see you go through the same pain I have because you would not be completely honest with yourself.”

“You are a very wise woman, Morag Grey.”

Morag laughed. “You don’t get to be my age without learning a thing or two. Now, tell me everything you know about Neville Stephenson. That man has caught my eye and I plan to explore a little love myself.”

“You have good taste,” Freya said with a smile. “He is Nessia’s uncle and Fergus’s captain. He has a strong mind and is loyal and devoted to this family and this clan. Aye, I would say you could have chosen far worse than Neville.”

“Has he ever been married?”

“No. He hasn’t. I have never heard him talk about a woman either, which is odd for a man of his age.”

“A man of his age is also my age,” she said with a wink.

“I meant no disrespect.”

“Fear not, dear Freya. I am teasing you.” Morag yawned. “I feel very weary all of a sudden. Perhaps we can continue this conversation on the morrow.”

Freya stepped over to her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for your words of encouragement, Morag. You are right. I must be honest with myself about what I want.”

Freya left the chamber and walked to the great hall. All was quiet so she sat by the stone hearth and thought about what Morag had said. Memories of their night together filled her mind and awakened that need down deep in her core.

Just then, a shiver spread across her back. She did not have to turn to know it was Ronan. Her body was so in tune with his.

He stopped before her and stared. Her breath quickened as their gazes locked.

“Freya,” he whispered.

They stared at one another a long moment before she broke the silence. “You will be happy to know your mother and sister have been well looked after.”

“I never doubted it for a moment.”

Her pulse picked up as she watched him step a little closer. His gaze roamed across her body like a caress. His eyes heated and his lips parted.

“I prayed for you.”

His gaze snapped up and locked with hers. “I dreamed of you.”

Her throat tightened at the desire etched across his face and the strain in his voice. “Ronan, we cannot be together.”

“And we cannot be apart. You are mine, Freya, and I will find a way to make it so. There is no way I will see you married and giving your body to another man. Not now. Not after our passion has been rekindled.”

His words washed over her, simultaneously sending thrill and fear rushing through her. He reached forward and lifted a length of her hair with his fingers. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

“I could smell you on me the morning after. I want that again. Every day. Every night. Forever, Freya. I want you for myself forever.”

If she did not leave now, she could not say how far she would go. Her body hummed with anticipation of having him claim her again.

She stood to leave, but he caught her by the waist and drew her into his hard embrace. His lips instantly covered hers and all reservation fled. His tongue tangled with hers and his fingers bit into her sides. She slid her hands up his chest and linked at the nape of his neck, pulling herself against him. She could not get close enough. It was as though his body provided what she needed to survive, for without him, she would wither and die.

All too soon, Ronan broke the kiss and tugged her into the secret passageway used by the guards. He drew her inside and closed the door then bolted it. They always had to do this, sneak around and hide their love. True, there was a certain thrill at the thought of getting caught. Her morals seemed to go into hiding when she was in his arms.

His mouth was on hers again as he slid down the wall to a sitting position, taking her with him until she straddled his hips.

“I need to be inside you, Freya. Right. Now.” His words caught as he fumbled with the opening at the top of his tunic.

The urgency he displayed was intoxicating. She was not sure who was more desperate for the other as she watched his member spring free; the engorged tip of his erection grazed the inside of her thigh, making her tremble.

His shaking fingers pulled at the strings of her gown then tugged them loose, pulling open her bodice.  His mouth captured hers as his thumbs brushed her nipples trough the fabric of her shift. The sensation had her arching against him. She reached between them to hold him at her entrance, then quickly slid down onto him.

“Ronan.” She gasped his name as he filled her. He groaned against her lips, his hot breath fanning her face as she rocked her hips. He tugged hard on her nipple, making her cry out with the pleasure-pain. The sensation quickened her pace. She plunged herself onto him, meeting his upward thrusts into her trembling body.

She was on the brink of climax, looking over the edge. “Harder,” she panted.

In one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back and drove himself into her. He slid out, just to the tip of his erection, then buried himself to the hilt. Then again, and again until she felt him swell insider her and knew he was ready.

Freya clenched around him in an explosive climax that seemed like it would never end. Ronan’s entire body was rock hard, every muscle coiling, ready for release. He pound into her at such a pace she could barely collect her breath when her own sensation built again so suddenly. Her back arched toward him as he continued thrusting deep within her body.

“You are mine,” he said, tensing above her. She felt his release, heard him gasp her name as he pulsed inside her. Freya responded with a second climax that shook her entire body.

Ronan’s hot breath on her neck, and heavy frame pinning her to the floor, were sensations she never wanted to forget. This feeling of utter and total contentment was one of the truths she could not deny. She did not want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

“Freya, I cannot live without you,” he finally said. “I must speak with Fergus. I loved you before, but this is a thousand times greater. There is no way you can marry the MacKenzie lad.”

The sound of her intended’s name was like water dousing a fire. She wiggled away from him and began straightening her clothes.