His blade slashed through the air, missing her by inches.
“Megan.” From beyond the closed door she heard Kieran’s voice. But before she could cry out, a hand closed over her mouth.
She felt the terror bubble up in her throat when fingers covered her nose and mouth, cutting off her air. She put up a fierce struggle, prying at the hands that held her, until, feeling him weaken, she bit down hard. With a cry of rage the man pulled away.
“Megan. Your door is barred. You must open it.” From the room next door Megan heard Kieran’s angry voice.
When she looked up the intruder was scrambling over the balcony. Struggling to her feet, she closed the distance between them and fumbled to catch his arm.
He let out a low hiss of anger and gave her a shove that sent her crashing into the stone wall behind her. With a cry of pain she crumpled to the floor.
In some distant part of her mind she heard the splinter of wood as the door between the two rooms was forced open. But her only thought was of the man who had entered her room. Crawling to the balcony, she pulled herself up and peered over the edge.
The intruder had already dropped to the courtyard below. Though she could hear his booted feet as he ran in the direction of the stables, she could not make out his form in the darkness.
Wearily she sank down, her fingers curled tightly around the smooth stone of the balcony for support.
“God in heaven. Megan, you are hurt.” Kieran dropped to his knees and touched a hand to the blood that seeped from a cut in her head.
He felt a rush of fury that had his blood pounding in his temples. That this lass should be harmed while under his protection was unthinkable.
“It is nothing.” Dazed, Megan tried to study the man who bent over her. But his image seemed to swim in and out of focus. “Someone was in my chambers.”
“Aye. Who was it?”
“I know not. I could not see his face.”
“Did you hear his voice?”
“He did not speak, except for a cry of alarm when I bit him.”
“You bit him, my lady?” Despite his anger, Kieran felt the beginnings of a smile. Though his features remained stern, his eyes crinkled.
“Aye. I found myself without a weapon.” She caught his arm and drew him close. “You must find him, Kieran. He was running toward the stables.”
“Nay, my lady. First, I must see to you.”
“But he will make his escape.”
“Hush, Megan.” With great tenderness he lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bed. Lighting a taper, he examined her wounds.
“You are bleeding, my lady. But it seems to be nothing serious.”
“I am fine.” Tears of frustration filled her eyes. “It is the intruder you must see to, Kieran. I need to know—”
He placed a finger gently over her lips, stifling her cries. “My lady, I want to find this man even more than you do. But I have no intention of leaving your side until I see to these wounds.”
“They are nothing.”
“I will decide that.”
As he poured water from a pitcher into a bowl and then dipped a cloth into it, she gave a sigh of impatience. But when he touched the cloth to the wound at her head, she felt the tenderness of his touch and was moved to fresh tears, which caused her grave embarrassment.
“You see. Your wounds cause you pain.” He probed her wound, causing a quivering to begin deep inside her.
“Nay.” She wanted him to stop touching her so that she could think. And yet she wanted him to go on touching her forever, so these strange new feelings would never stop. “The wound is not deep. I am…simply overcome. I fear I must be some kind of timid, weepy female. I seem to always shed tears in your company.”
Kieran could not help smiling. His voice was low, soothing. “You are neither timid nor weepy, my lady. Now close your eyes while I assure myself that you are truly unharmed.”
She did as she was told and lay very still, her eyes closed, while he washed the wound and stemmed the flow of blood.
How was it possible, she wondered, that a man as fierce as Kieran O’Mara could have such a tender touch? His hands, so calloused and battle-worn, felt wonderful against her skin. His breath, warm where it feathered the hair at her temple, was a dangerous reminder of his lips, hovering mere inches above hers. What would he think of her if he could read her mind and discover just how much she reveled in his touch?
As Kieran dressed her wounds he was achingly aware of the woman who lay quietly beneath his touch. He had promised himself that now that he was safely home, he would keep his distance and concentrate upon the needs of his family and countrymen. Yet here he was, allowing himself to touch her once more, and be touched by her. His gaze skimmed the pale ivory nightgown that revealed as much as it covered. Her high, firm breasts were clearly outlined underneath the sheer fabric. The thought of those shapely bare legs tangled with his in the bed caused a sudden shocking rush of desire. If the lady knew where his thoughts were taking him, she would order him from her room with great haste.
The growing silence in the room was unsettling. Kieran dragged himself back from the thoughts that disturbed him more than he cared to admit. “Have you brought something of value with you, my lady? Something you did not reveal to us during the journey?”
“Nay. I can think of nothing the intruder wanted.” She met his dark gaze. “Everything I have belongs to someone else. The clothes I wore to sup belonged to Lady Katherine. The clean clothes folded atop the chest belonged to an English soldier. Even this gown I sleep in is not mine.”
She saw the way his gaze devoured her and wished she had not mentioned her nightgown. She was uncomfortably aware of how she must look. Her cheeks grew hot. “Forgive me, my lord. In the confusion I forgot about my immodest attire.”
His lips curved into the roguish smile she had come to know. How could a female be this innocent and still be a seductress? “Yours is a most…chaste gown, my lady. Why, it buttons clear to your neck.” He ran a finger around the neckline, sending a series of tremors racing along her spine. “Such a pretty neck,” he murmured, bending his face nearer.
He thought about kissing her neck and cautioned himself against it. One taste of her now would never be enough.
Megan swallowed the knot of fear that sprang to her throat. He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes. She felt a moment of panic. His kisses were dangerous, like a healer’s brew that dulled the mind and enhanced all other sensation. And yet, ever since their first kiss, she had been unable to forget the feelings he had aroused in her. Each time he touched her, those feelings came back with a rush that left her breathless and a little afraid.
His fingers began playing with a strand of her hair, sending new tremors rocketing through her.
“You have most unusual hair, my lady. It reminds me of a trail of moonlight on a warm summer night. A night that can weave a spell of magic around a man and woman.” He plunged both hands into the tangles and drew her head back until he could stare into her eyes.
“Kieran…”
“And your eyes,” he said, unaware of the protest that died in her throat, “are the most hypnotic eyes I have ever seen. At times they gleam with the fire of a warrior. At other times they reveal an innocence that makes me want to carry you off to some distant place where no harm can ever come to you again.”
She saw his eyes narrow fractionally, and her throat went dry.
“Please, my lord…”
“Do you know how many nights I have thought about you?”
“You must go now.” Her words were hardly more than a whisper.
His gaze fastened on her lips. “I fear I cannot.”
As he bent to her he called himself every kind of a fool. This was not a woman with whom he could trifle. Each time he allowed himself to kiss her, he was drawn more firmly into the web of intrigue that seemed to surround her. And yet, there was no denying the desire that raged between them. He had to have one more
taste of those lips.
At the first touch of his mouth to hers, heat poured through him. For a moment he was so stunned by it he caught her by the shoulders and drew back. Then slowly, deliberately, he bent to her, all the while watching her eyes. When his mouth covered hers a second time, his arms came around her, pinning her to the length of him.
All the feelings that had been growing between them were unleashed.
For Megan there was a wild sweep of pleasure followed by a low, pulsing need that seemed to build and build until she found herself clinging to him. The touch of him, the taste of him were pleasure that bordered on pain.
When Kieran took the kiss deeper, she moaned, inviting more, and he fumbled with the buttons of her nightgown until he found the satin skin he had long dreamed of.
She was firm against his palm. He felt the thundering of her heartbeat. Its rhythm matched his own. With a kind of reverence his hands moved over her flesh. His low moan of pleasure was matched by one of her own. The night closed around them as their passion climbed higher, then higher still, until they were caught in a hunger that threatened to devour them.
Kieran knew he had taken her too far, too soon. They both stood poised on the edge. One step more and she would cling to him and follow his lead. One step. He wavered, then pulled back. Though his mind rebelled against taking her higher, his body still strained toward her with a need that bordered on desperation.
Calling on every ounce of willpower, he lifted his lips from hers. He could read the confusion in her eyes as she lay very still, watching him.
Her body still hummed from his touch. Her lips were still warm and moist with the taste of him. When at last she could speak she whispered, “You must leave now, Kieran.”
“Nay, Megan. I must stay.” He resented the way his hands still trembled. Determined to put some distance between them, he stood and walked to the balcony.
“You are staying?” Her eyes widened. “But why?”
He turned. “The intruder may return. I cannot leave you alone and helpless.”
“I am far from helpless, my lord.”
She heard the warmth of laughter in his voice. “Aye. Of that I am very certain. Still, I cannot leave you.”
“You cannot stay the night. It…” She struggled to calm her thundering heart. “It is not proper.” She did not add that she would never be able to sleep, knowing he was watching her.
He shrugged, and from the sound of his warm chuckle, she knew that he was enjoying himself immensely. “You have two choices, my lady. You can sleep here, or you can sleep in the bed in my sleeping chambers.”
“Your bed? But why?”
“Our intruder wanted you, my lady. Or something in this room. You will be safe only in my bed.”
She thought about the logic of it for several moments. As long as he stayed in here, she was safe in his bed. It occurred to her that wherever Kieran was, she was no longer completely safe.
She resolutely slid from the bed. On legs that threatened to fail her, she made her way to his sleeping chamber. At the door, she heard his voice, warm and deep with laughter. “Sleep well, my lady. And if the servants should bring your bath on the morrow, I intend to enjoy it.”
“My bath,” she said with a little groan of dismay.
“If you are very nice to me,” he added, laughing, “I may even allow you to share it.”
“Kieran O’Mara. Before the servants arrive I expect you to wake me. I will not miss my bath. Besides,” she added, sternly, “I will not explain to them why I am in your bed.”
“A pity. It would have given them much to talk about.”
“Give me your word, Kieran.”
Instead he merely gave her a smile.
With a sigh of exasperation she said, “I do not need you to wake me. I will see that I am back in my room before the servants are up and about.”
Megan turned and slammed the door harder than was necessary. But even that did not block out the rich, warm sound of his laughter as she crawled into his big bed.
Drawing the bed linens up over her, Megan inhaled the masculine scent of him that still lingered. Though she was loath to admit it, it was oddly comforting to lie in his bed, surrounded by the familiar scent and heat of his body. And though she was certain she would never be able to fall asleep again this night, she could not fight the exhaustion that slowly overtook her.
Chapter Eleven
M egan heard the chatter of the servants as they moved around the room, drawing open heavy draperies, stoking the fire, laying out her clothing for the morning.
The servants. God in heaven. They had arrived before she had had a chance to slip out of Kieran’s bed and into her own. With a little moan she pulled the bed linens over her head and wished she could sink into a hole and disappear.
“My lady, would you like to choose the gown you will wear this day?”
Reluctantly Megan pulled the blanket down and peered around. In the early morning sunlight she blinked. She was in her own bed, in her own sleeping chamber. Though she could not recall, Kieran must have carried her back to bed while she was still asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief and instantly regretted all the curses she had directed toward him.
Studying the lovely gowns being offered for her approval, she pointed to a dress of emerald-green satin. “That will do nicely.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Megan slipped from the bed and crossed the room to a basin of water. When she had finished washing, the serving girl helped her to dress.
“You chose well, my lady,” the little serving girl said softly. “This gown is perfect for you.”
“Thank you. But any gown would have done nicely. I wonder,” she said idly, “if there was a time when I cared about such things as clothes?”
The servant began to arrange her hair in soft waves that spilled down her back and across one shoulder. As she worked Megan studied the girl’s reflection in a looking glass. She had a natural curiosity about people. Was that another trait she had always possessed?
“What is your name?” she asked the maid, admiring her soft brown curls and lively green eyes.
“Aileen, my lady.”
“Have you been at Castle O’Mara for a long time?”
“Since I was a lass. My mother and older sisters also work in the castle, my lady.”
“Are you happy here?”
“Oh, my lady.” Aileen gave her a wide smile that left no doubt. “’Tis proud I am to serve Lady Katherine. She is a fine lady who is kind to everyone. My father died in battle alongside Lord Kieran O’Mara, and ’tis the promise of Lady Katherine that every woman in Killamara who loses her man in battle will have a place here in the castle.”
Megan was impressed. “She takes in every widow?”
“Aye, my lady. And their families. She cares for everyone of Killamara as though they were her own.”
“What about Bridget?” Megan asked. “Whose child is she?”
“Lady Katherine had but one daughter, the sweet Lady Fiona. She was as kind as her mother and even more beautiful.” The servant gave a little sigh. “She was the delight of Lord Kieran and Lord Colin.”
“Where is Lady Fiona now?”
The girl’s smile faded. “No one knows. She and her husband left their daughter, Bridget, with Lady Katherine before they sailed to England. They were never heard from again.”
“How terrible. Has no one tried to find them.”
“Aye, my lady. ’Twas the reason my lords Kieran and Colin traveled across the channel.” Her voice lowered. “It has been rumored that Lady Fiona and her husband were killed at the hands of highwaymen, but my lord Kieran has never accepted that.”
“Why?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders. “Their bodies have never been found. And Lord Kieran has vowed to search for them until he learns the truth.”
She tied a ribbon through a cluster of Megan’s curls and stepped back. “There, my lady. You look beautiful.”
“Thank yo
u, Aileen.”
When Aileen left the room Megan walked to the balcony. Staring out over the lush green fields, she digested all that she had heard. Her heart went out to the child who had lost her parents. To have no knowledge of the ones she loved was, to Megan, as painful as having lost the knowledge of oneself.
“I see I have missed your bath. Alas. I had so looked forward to it.”
At the sound of Kieran’s teasing voice she turned.
Seeing the sadness that touched her eyes his smile vanished. “Had I known you would be so unhappy to be back in your own room, my lady, I would have left you in my bed and let the servants say what they will.”
She was forced to smile at his humor. “Thank you for returning me to my bed, my lord. At least for the moment you have saved my reputation.”
“It was my pleasure, my lady. You presented a most pleasant picture. One I will not soon forget.” His words had her blushing furiously.
He thought about the way she had looked, her nightgown twisted in disarray around her hips, her hair spilling across his arm as he lifted her. It had taken all his discipline to keep from waking her with a kiss.
To ease her discomfort he asked, “Have you checked your room to see if anything is missing?”
“I fear I did not. As I said, I have nothing of value. But if it will make you happy, I shall do so now.”
While Kieran watched Megan walked slowly around the room. When she came to the little chest, she glanced around in dismay.
“What is it, Megan?”
“The soldier’s clothes. They were folded atop this chest. Now they are gone. Why would anyone want a stranger’s clothes?” She glanced around, hoping she would find them lying elsewhere.
“I know not. Is nothing else missing?”
“Nay.”
Kieran’s look was thoughtful. Then, hearing the beat of booted feet upon the stairs, he offered his arm. “Come, my lady. We will break our fast with the others who already go below stairs.”
“That will solve nothing.”
“True. But troubles are always best faced after one of Mistress Peake’s fine meals.”
With only a little reluctance Megan placed her hand on his sleeve and allowed herself to be led downstairs.