Highland Fire

  Kieran watched her and felt again the familiar ache. There seemed to be no cure for it. Each time he saw her he felt a strange warm glow, and each time he touched her he felt a swift rush of heat that made him tremble with desire. Last night, when he had stood beside her in Bridget’s darkened room, he had wanted her with a need that startled him. And when he had left her at the door to her chambers, it had cost him a tremendous effort to simply bid her a gruff good-night and leave her at her door.

  “Ahh, my dear.” Lady Katherine held out her hand. “Come and meet our guests.” As Megan paused beside the table, Lady Katherine introduced her to the cluster of robed priests, who smiled and nodded. Then, with obvious affection, Lady Katherine turned to a tall, robed figure whose dark, piercing eyes were startlingly like Kieran’s.

  “Megan, this is Bishop Seamus O’Mara, my husband’s brother.”

  “Your Excellency.” Megan curtsied and kissed his proffered ring.

  “Megan.” Though his manner was kind, it was obvious that he was studying her carefully. “My sister-in-law has told me of your loss of memory. Have you begun to recall anything?”

  “Nay, Your Excellency.”

  “A pity. But you must be patient. All things happen according to God’s own plan. I will remember you in my prayers, my dear.”

  “Thank you.”

  When the servants entered bearing steaming trays of food, Megan took a seat beside Kieran and glanced at Colin, who sat across the table, to the right of the bishop. His eyes were downcast, his demeanor subdued.

  “I had hoped that you would be ready to leave with us on the morrow,” the bishop said to his nephew.

  “Oh, but you cannot leave just yet,” Lady Katherine protested. She related the plans of the villagers. “This celebration means so much to them,” she said. “They cannot be denied the pleasure of welcoming Colin and Kieran home.”

  “I quite agree,” said the bishop after hearing his sister-in-law. “We will stay until after the celebration.”

  Megan glanced at Colin’s face. Though he struggled to show no expression, she saw the light that came into his eyes.

  “You must eat something,” Lady Katherine said as the bishop waved the servant away. “Yours has been a long journey.”

  “The others will eat. I will break my fast later. When you have eaten,” the bishop said to Lady Katherine, “we will visit the chapel and offer a Mass of thanksgiving for the safe return of your sons.” He glanced at Colin. “You will attend, of course.”

  “Aye.” Colin pushed away his plate of food. “I will be there. But now, you must excuse me.”

  No one spoke as he crossed the room and let himself out. As the hum of conversation began to fill the room, Megan glanced at Kieran’s face. His expression was unreadable.

  Across the table the bishop had grown silent. On his face was a thoughtful expression.

  The days leading up to the celebration were a blur of activity. People from the surrounding villages began arriving at Castle O’Mara. The grounds were abloom with colorful tents, carts and wagons of every shape and size. Standards bearing the crest of the O’Mara family billowed in the breeze.

  The air was perfumed with the wonderful aroma of baking bread, pastries and sweetmeats. The pens built to hold the animals brought as gifts became empty as whole lambs and pigs were slaughtered and roasted, along with ducks, geese and chickens.

  Throughout the preparations, Megan had discovered several things about herself. She had no talent for cooking or baking. And she detested sewing.

  “If I have led a wicked life,” she muttered to Kieran when he approached her in her chambers, “I know how God will punish me.”

  Her head was bent over the crimson cloth that draped over her lap and spilled onto the floor. Sunlight poured through the balcony window, casting her in a halo of gold. She was, he thought, the most perfect creature he had ever seen.

  His voice was warm with laughter. “And just how will God punish you, my lady?”

  “He will force me to sew gossamer gowns for all the angels in heaven.” As Kieran began to chuckle, she muttered, “Aye. A hundred times a hundred of them. Until I have atoned for all my sins.”

  “That many? You must think you have committed a great many sins, my lady.”

  “If only I knew.” As she looked up she pricked her finger and gave a little cry. Lifting her finger to her lips she said, “You see? I can wield a sword with authority. But I cannot manage a tiny needle.”

  “I can see that you must be rescued from this terrible doom. Come.” He pulled her from the chair. The crimson fabric slid from her lap and lay in a pool of fiery sunlight.

  “Where do we go?”

  “We will ride the hills of Killamara, my lady.”

  “But the gown…”

  “Perhaps we can persuade Cara to take pity on you. If not, there is always your maid, Aileen.”

  “Ahh.” Her smile grew. “I would be most grateful to you if you could persuade one of them to take on this detestable task.”

  “How grateful, my lady?” He drew her close and she saw the laughter that lurked in his dark eyes.

  “Grateful enough that I would warn you which of the pastries were baked by my hand. That way, you could avoid them, my lord, and live to a ripe old age.”

  Kieran roared with laughter. This woman was the most delightful creature. “How can I refuse such an offer? If Cara cannot help, I will fetch Aileen as soon as we return from our ride.”

  With their laughter ringing on the air, they made their way to the stables and helped Padraig saddle two horses. Soon, with sunlight warming their faces, they raced toward the distant hills.

  “Oh, this is wonderful,” Megan called. “I have missed this freedom.”

  Kieran studied the way she looked, her hair streaming on the breeze, her eyes glowing. There was a bloom on her cheeks that had been missing since their arrival at Castle O’Mara.

  “You sit a horse as if you were born to it.”

  “Perhaps I was,” she called, urging her mount into a run.

  They let the horses have their heads until the animals were blowing and snorting from the effort.

  Kieran shouted, “Let us rest awhile.”

  Bringing his horse to a halt beside a stream, he slid from the saddle and reached for Megan. As he helped her dismount, he allowed his hands to linger at her waist.

  She steeled herself against the jolt that always came at his touch. “Your land is truly lovely, Kieran.”

  “Aye. Almost as lovely as you.”

  She felt her heart race and stepped back a pace. Whenever she was too close to him she seemed to lose all sense.

  Seeing her uneasiness, Kieran caught up the horses’ reins and led them through the shallows where they drank.

  Megan stood on the bank and watched. Shielding the sun from her eyes she said softly, “Thank you for bringing me here. I am glad that you suggested we ride. I needed to get away from the tedious chores of the scullery.”

  Kieran left the horses in the water and walked toward her. “Is that the only reason you enjoyed the ride?”

  “Nay.” She laughed, and he found himself enjoying the deep, husky sound of her laughter. “It is just good to take the reins, to feel a steed beneath me.”

  She stared at the horses moving slowly toward the shore, where the grass waving on the breeze beckoned them. “My blood races at the sound of hooves pounding. My heart beats faster when the wind catches my hair.”

  “Like this?” He caught a strand of her hair and watched as it sifted through his fingers.

  He saw the way her cheeks colored and felt a rush of pleasure.

  She swallowed and prayed her voice would not betray her. “We should get back now, Kieran.”

  “Nay.” His eyes narrowed fractionally as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “I prefer to stay here, where there are no gossiping servants or demanding guests. I am tired of sharing you with so many people, Megan.”

  She ran a tongue ov
er her dry lips, and he watched the movement, feeling the first stirrings of desire.

  “I promised Bridget I would let her ride in the courtyard.” She looked up to see his dark eyes narrowed on her and quickly looked away. “She has really become quite good in the saddle.”

  “Aye.” He ran a finger along her arm and felt her jump at his touch. “She has a good teacher.”

  “I like teaching her.” Megan stared, mesmerized by his big hand as it glided along her arm. Though she knew she ought to move away, she could not. “Bridget is quick and bright and very brave.”

  “Like another I know.” He brought his hand to her face and watched as her eyes clouded in confusion.

  “Please, Kieran. Do not…”

  He placed a finger over her lips to silence her. At the first touch of her lips to his flesh, he felt a surge of fire and nearly drew back in surprise. Instead, he moved his finger along her mouth, tracing its outline.

  “You have perfect lips, my lady.”

  Her gaze flew to his face, and she saw the smoldering look in his eyes. They were treading on very dangerous ground. But she had nowhere to run. Besides, it was already too late. Though she might deny it to him, she could not lie to herself. She wanted the excitement he brought to her.

  “I fear I must taste them.”

  With his finger beneath her chin he bent and brushed his lips lightly over hers. She stood very still, not daring to breathe. When he raised his head, her eyelids fluttered, then opened wide. He was staring at her with a strange, almost harsh look.

  Kieran wanted the raging storm that exploded each time they came together. With his hands on her shoulders he drew her firmly to him and brought his mouth down on hers with a savageness that left them both shaken.

  There was a wildness to the taste of her, and he was reminded of the highlands where they had first met. There he had found a primitive beauty unlike any he had ever seen. The highlands suited her. Strange, primitive, untamable. But there was a sweetness as well, an innocence that belied her ease in the company of men and the skill she displayed in the art of battle. She was a contradiction and unlike any woman he had ever known.

  “Sweet. God in heaven, Megan, you are so sweet.”

  Megan’s reaction to his kiss left her stunned. At first she stood very still, absorbing the shock that rocked her. Then slowly, tentatively, she touched a hand to his face.

  “And you, my lord,” she whispered against his mouth, “are very dangerous. And I find I like danger.”

  She offered him her lips and drew even closer, until she was pressed so close she could feel his heartbeat inside her own chest. With a sigh she brought her arms around his neck and clung as his lips claimed hers.

  Each time they had come together, she had been forced to deal with strange, new sensations. And though these feelings left her oddly unsettled, she could not deny the excitement they aroused.

  “I want to taste you, to feel you.” His hands moved along her back, sending splinters of fire and ice along her spine.

  His lips left hers to trail her throat, and she arched her neck, giving him easier access. He ran open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of her throat and felt the little tremors that raced through her.

  Heat poured through Megan and fire raced along her veins, threatening to consume her.

  Though they were not aware of it, they dropped to their knees in the grass, still locked in an embrace. He feasted upon her lips while his fingers found the buttons of her riding gown and quickly unbuttoned them. With a moan he brought his lips to the swell of her breast and her nipples hardened.

  Megan had never known such feelings. Her body quivered beneath his touch. A throaty moan was wrenched from her lips, evoking a new wave of passion in him.

  “I want you, Megan. I must have you.” The sound of his own voice startled Kieran. He had planned this seduction, had wanted to feel the thrill of desire. What he had not counted on was this wild, desperate need for her. A need bordering on madness.

  The grass was a cool cushion beneath Megan’s heated body. But nothing could offer her respite from the heat that throbbed and pulsed through her. Kieran’s mouth found hers, lifting her high, then higher still, until she sighed and whispered his name. Or thought she did.

  She knew she had to end this. All this was so new, so frightening, she needed time to sort it all out. But he was giving her no time. With each touch, each kiss, he took her higher, until she thought her heart would surely burst free from her chest. There were so many strange, unsettling feelings rushing through her, clouding her mind.

  As his tongue tangled with hers, she struggled to hold on to her last thread of sanity. From somewhere deep inside Megan found the strength she had thought was lost.

  “Nay, Kieran.” With a long sigh she touched a hand to his cheek and drew back.

  “Are you afraid, lass?” He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Eyes that mirrored fear and something more. Something he could not quite define. “Do you think I would ever hurt you?”

  “Nay. I know better.” She drew in a long, steadying breath. “It is not you I fear. It is my own heart. I have never felt like this before, Kieran. I am so afraid.”

  “Aye.” He uttered a low, fierce oath. “I have known little fear in my life, lass, but you frighten me.” He gave a husky laugh. “In fact, you terrify me.”

  For a moment longer he held her roughly against his chest. Never before had he taken a woman against her wishes. But then, he had never before stood on the brink of madness with one like Megan.

  “I will get the horses.”

  She heard the frustration in his tone. With quick, angry strides he caught up the reins and led the horses toward her.

  She buttoned her gown and straightened her skirt with great difficulty, and found, to her amazement, that her hands were trembling. When she stood, she prayed her legs would hold her.

  Kieran steeled himself against feeling anything as he helped her into the saddle. Pulling himself up, he gathered the reins and nudged his mount into a trot. Beside him, her horse kept pace.

  His lips still burned with the taste of her. He glanced at his hands holding the reins. They were unsteady. As were his nerves.

  This woman, with no name and no past, continued to turn his world upside down.

  Chapter Fourteen

  T he day of the celebration dawned clear and bright. A chorus of sound filled the air as villagers spilled forth from their tents, carts and wagons and began the final preparations for their feast.

  This was not a day made for danger or intrigue. Yet Megan could not seem to shake an uneasy feeling. As if something, or someone, wished her harm.

  When Bridget rushed into her room and tugged on her skirts to hurry her along, she brushed aside her troubling feelings and caught the child’s hand.

  “My lady.” As Kieran walked from his chambers he nearly collided with Megan, who was being led by an eager Bridget.

  “Forgive me,” she said, laughing. “I fear the lass cannot stand the excitement any longer. We must join the crowds below.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her, then allowed them to linger, enjoying the quick shaft of heat. “I see you managed to complete your gown.” His gaze swept the scarlet satin that molded her breasts and waist and billowed around her ankles.

  “Aye. With Cara’s help.”

  “You look fetching, my lady.” Such inadequate words to describe her. She was so lovely it almost hurt to look away.

  “Will you join us, my lord?”

  “Aye. I would not miss it.”

  They made their way from the castle, as eager as Bridget for the festivities to begin.

  Behind them, taking great care to hide themselves in the crowd, two men followed and watched.

  “It took you long enough to get here.” James Kettering scowled at the stranger.

  Malcolm MacAlpin, still garbed in traveling cloak and plumed hat, pulled himself up to his full height and surveyed the milling c
rowd. “Your servant bade me hurry. But I had important duties of my own to see to.” He did not add that the minute he heard Megan’s name mentioned, he dropped everything in his desire for revenge. Though he pretended to care little for the task before him, his blood ran hot with the thought that he would finally make the MacAlpin pay for the pain she had inflicted upon his dignity.

  “Nothing is as important as this.” James put a hand to his sleeve to caution him. “See that you maintain a discreet distance until you have had a chance to listen and observe.”

  Swallowed up by the throngs of people, they continued to trail behind Megan and Kieran.

  The castle grounds were abloom with people in colorful garb. Elegantly attired men and women paraded alongside villagers in crudely patched garments of rough wool. The children of prosperous landowners played with the offspring of noblemen and simple farmers. Like innocents everywhere, they chased each other among the crates and vendors’ booths.

  A market had been set up in an open area of meadow. Seamstresses offered bright ribbons and bits of delicate lace. Cooks sold fragrant pastries they had prepared over hot coals. Farmers sold their fruits and vegetables and a variety of livestock. In wooden cages, piglets squealed and lambs bleated. Chicks, freshly hatched, were sold alongside baskets of eggs.

  Through it all, Megan walked beside Kieran, her eyes aglow.

  “You are enjoying yourself, my lady?”

  “Aye. It is a fine day for a celebration,” she said, holding firmly to Bridget’s small hand.

  “Does it bring back any memories of your own land?”

  “Nay.”

  He heard the pain in that single word and instantly regretted his question. On this happy day, she needed no reminders of her loss.

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “I must remember to thank Cara. You put all the other women to shame.”

  He enjoyed the color that flooded her cheeks at his words.

  Seeing the way little Bridget eyed the food in the booths, he paused beside a table perfumed with the aroma of freshly baked goods. “You must each pick out a pastry.”