“Then come. Let us indulge ourselves, for the long days of fasting are over.”
As they took their places at table, Sabina came flouncing into the room, her usually composed face twisted into a mask of anger. Though she tried to hide them, tears glittered on her lashes.
“What is wrong? What has happened?” Merritt asked.
“’Tis the wounded boar in my chambers.”
Hearing her, Shaw came around the table and caught her hand, searching for fresh bruises. “Has my brother harmed you, my lady?”
“Nay.” She looked down, ashamed of her outburst. “He is not a cruel man. But his brusque manner and harsh demeanor try my patience.”
“I beg your forgiveness,” Shaw said softly. “Sutton is warrior, more accustomed to the field of battle than to enforced idleness. He has ne’er spent this much time in a pallet since he was a bairn.”
“Aye, a bairn. He behaves like a spoiled bairn,” Sabina muttered. “He moans, and complains, and finds fault with l that I do.”
“If you will be patient another day or more, I will find a way to gently remove my brother from your chambers, my lady, and have him brought to mine.”
Instead of the relief Shaw expected, Sabina looked alarmed. “Nay. You must not.”
Both Shaw and Merritt stared at her in surprise.
“‘Twould... open all his wounds and cause bleeding afresh.” Sabina glanced at her sister for support. “I do not wish to prolong his agony, even though he is an evil-tongued Campbell, for that would only mean that he would have to remain here at Inverene even longer. Nay,” she insisted, tossing her head for emphasis, “we must not remove him from his place of repose until he is completely recovered.”
“Then you must assign one of the servants the task of seeing to his needs,” Shaw said. “That will free you of the burden.”
“It is no burden,” Sabina said, reaching a trembling hand toward a goblet of ale. “I do not mind caring for your brother. Truly I do not.”
Shaw felt his respect for the lady Sabina deepen. Without regard to her own comfort, she was pledged to see his brother safely healed.
Merritt, on the other hand, studied her sister with a curious look. Sabina had always been the thoughtful, compassionate one. But she had protested the removal of her patient so vehemently. Too vehemently. Was she, perhaps, feeling something other than compassion for the handsome warrior who slept in her chambers? Had the quick-tempered lout stirred something else in her sister’s heart? Why else would she insist upon caring for him, when she could just as easily assign the task to a servant?
All Merritt’s questions were quickly chased away by the food and warmth and merriment in the great hail. From the blazing fires at either end of the huge room to the food and wine and voices raised in laughter, Merritt felt an overflow of joy mingled with relief. Could it be that the days of hunger and hardship were finally over? Could all the looting and burning and killing become a thing of the past?
She lifted a goblet of wine to her lips and drank deeply. Oh, if only it could be so. She would gladly put all of those troubles behind her forever.
Candles sputtered in pools of wax as Shaw made his way along the upper hall to Sabina’s chambers. Below stairs the servants had cleared away the remains of their sumptuous meal, and Sabina had entertained with music from the lute, while Upton, feeling stronger than he had in years, had engaged his younger daughter in a rousing game of chess.
Now the sounds had faded as the servants made their way to their pallets. Only the Lamonts remained below. Shaw had left them to their privacy, to quietly talk over the events of the day among themselves.
He opened the door and paused on the threshold, his gaze on the figure in the mounds of fur.
A servant had assured him that his brother had taken nourishment, emptying a bowl of clear broth, as well as several bites of fish, before giving in to exhaustion. Still, despite his own weariness, Shaw needed to see for himself that Sutton was comfortable. The dreamy smile on his lips was a sure sign that he suffered no pain.
As he knelt beside his brother, the smile deepened. Sutton stirred. When he saw Shaw, his smile vanished.
“I thought... Where is the woman?”
Shaw touched a hand to his brother’s brow and was relieved to feel no fever. “She remains below stairs with her family. How do you fare?”
“I weary of this weakness that holds me in its grip. I am a warrior, my brother. I have no use for weakness.”
Shaw smiled. This he could understand. “I know it is vexing. But think of this as a battle. And each day you must fight it, day by painful day, until your strength returns and you are once again the invincible warrior you once were.”
“If that were the only battle I had to fight, I could manage.
“What other battle is there?”
“There is also the woman.”
“Sabina? I do not understand.”
Sutton drew his brother close and whispered, “I must lie here night after night and watch as she undresses in the dark and slips into her bed. And in the morn I must feign sleep while she goes about her ablutions. But I have seen her as she washes herself and dresses for the day. She is the most perfect female I have ever beheld.”
Shaw started to smile but his brother’s hand tightened on his arm. “’Twould be easy for one such as you to resist such temptation. Women have ne’er been your weakness. But for me it is a taste of the fires of hell to be forced to watch and feel and desire, and be unable to move.”
“Aye.” Shaw patted his hand and got to his feet. “I see now why you vent your frustrations in her presence. But if you could speak more softly to the woman, I would be grateful. For you have been the cause of her tears. And such things upset... other members of her family.”
“I care not for the feelings of these Lamonts. Nor do I care for the woman. She is merely some sort of evil spirit, sent here to test my strength of will.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Sutton passed a hand over his eyes in a gesture of weariness. “I know not. I know only that sometimes, when I look at her, I see an angel of mercy. But it is the fever. And when I truly awaken from this illness, I will see her as she is. A hag. A Lamont. The daughter of our father’s enemy.”
“The Lamonts are not what we thought them to be.”
“What are you saying?”
Shaw merely sighed and said gently, “You must sleep now, for I see that your mind is still befuddled.”
“Aye. Befuddled by the—”
At that moment Sabina entered in a swirl of skirts, looking flushed and breathless. “Forgive this late hour. I brought you hot mulled wine to help you sleep.”
“You see, brother?” Sutton muttered.
“Remember what I asked of you. Speak softly,” Shaw said under his breath.
Sabina knelt beside Sutton’s pallet and lifted his head slightly, holding the goblet to his lips. As she did, her dark hair swirled forward, whispering over his naked chest.
He drank deeply, before saying, “Thank you, my lady. That was most kind.”
She seemed surprised and flustered by his unexpected gratitude.
“You are most welcome. I hope the night passes without pain.”
“Sleep now, my brother,” Shaw called. “Good even, my lady.”
He realized at once that neither of them seemed to hear him. With a last glance at them, he closed the door and made his way to his own chambers.
Inside, as he stripped off his clothes, he thought about his brother’s words. ‘Twould be easy for one such as you.... Women have ne’er been your weakness. If only he could unburden himself to his twin. But he had no right. Sutton had troubles enough of his own.
His musings were suddenly interrupted as the door opened and Merritt swept in. Her eyes were glowing, her smile radiant.
“My father bested me tonight on the board.”
He tossed aside his shirt and turned to her with a smile. ‘Why does losing to your
father make you happy?”
“Do you not see?” She danced closer and clasped her hands together. “His mind has come back to him. For so long now he could not concentrate on the chess pieces. But tonight he not only played, but he won.”
“Ah. I do see. And I am glad, my lady.”
“It is because of you,” she said, her voice lowering. “Because of the food you provided, and the logs for the fire, and the servants. He has found a reason for coming back to us from that other, more pleasant place where he dwelled for so long in his mind.”
She suddenly became aware of his hair-roughened chest, his arms corded with muscles, the skin-tight breeches that molded his thighs.
Her eyes widened as she realized that she’d caught him undressing.
“Forgive me, Campbell. I did not mean to interrupt—”
“You interrupt nothing. I am not abed yet.”
Color flooded her cheeks. “I was so eager to share my news with you, I did not think.”
As she turned away in embarrassment he touched a hand to her shoulder to stop her. At once they both felt the flare of heat.
His voice lowered. “I’m honored that you would share your happiness with me.”
Just standing here, being touched by him, she knew that there was so much more she wanted to share with him. So very much more.
She stood unmoving, her back to him. “How could I not be happy when I hear once again the sounds of voices and laughter in Inverene House? Is it not a wondrous sound?”
“Aye.” He kept his hand on her shoulder, though the heat was swiftly becoming an inferno.
“And it is all because of you...”
“Shh.” In one smooth motion he lifted the heavy hair from her nape and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. He hadn’t meant to. It had happened so naturally, so spontaneously. But now that he was kissing her, he couldn’t stop.
With a little moan she leaned into him and realized that he was fully aroused. His strong arm came around her to mold her to the length of him, while his other hand twined in her hair and he continued raining kisses along the back of her neck and across her shoulder.
With a sigh of pure pleasure she turned her face slightly. He nibbled at the corner of her lips while his arms enfolded her.
As he moved his lips over her cheek and along the curve of her jaw, he murmured, “Oh, my lady. You feel so good, so right, here in my arms. All day I have tried to avoid you, to deny these feelings I have for you.”
Her heart soared at his admission. It was not really her he’d been avoiding; it was his passionate feelings for her.
With his teeth he tugged at her lobe, before his tongue darted inside her ear to tease and taunt. His big, work-worn hands began to weave their magic, as well, cupping the fullness of her breasts, while his thumbs found her already hard nipples.
“Stay the night,” he whispered against her neck, as his mouth trailed moist, hot kisses across the pale line of her shoulder.
She should be able to think of a score of reasons why she must go. But her mind refused to cooperate. All she could do was move in his arms and revel in the pulse of desire that shuddered through her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Nothing else mattered.
He turned her in his arms and covered her mouth with his. Needs, desires, seemed to explode within them, driving them to the edge of madness.
Lost in their passion, they were aware of nothing except their need for each other.
The door between their chambers was suddenly thrown open, and a woman’s voice called, “Shall I help you undress before I retire, my lady? Oh! Forgive me.”
Two heads came up sharply. Still clinging together, Meritt and Shaw turned toward the servant who stood in the doorway, her hand at her mouth to stifle her gasp of dismay.
It was Merritt who found her voice first. “Aye. Thank you, Dulcie.”
Like a splash of frigid water, she realized the depth of her weakness for this Campbell. Even the approach of a servant could not break through his allure.
The servant turned away, mortified by her lapse.
Merritt swallowed and took a step back, as if to prove that she was still in control of herself. “I will leave you now to your rest.”
“That is indeed wise, my lady.” Shaw caught a handful of her hair and watched through narrowed eyes as it sifted through his fingers. Lowering his gaze to her mouth, he tasted her as surely as if he were still kissing her. “And infinitely better for both of us.”
She turned and fled.
For long minutes after she left, he stood very still, staring at the closed door. He felt cold and empty, and more alone than he had ever known.
At last he walked to the balcony and studied the shadowed loch below. God in heaven, what was he to do? His desire for Merritt Lamont was becoming an obsession.
When, a few minutes later, he poured wine into a goblet, he noted that his hand was still trembling. And his pulse had still not returned to its normal rhythm.
Despite the work he had done this day, he was certain sleep would evade him this night.
Chapter Eighteen
Shaw lay upon his pallet, hovering in a twilight world somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. All night he had slept fitfully, his troubled thoughts centered on Merritt. Merritt. How he ached for her. This need for her was far from simple. It complicated everything. The woman had become a hunger greater than food or drink, a need deeper than life itself.
He resented this intrusion into his well-ordered, disciplined life. Always before, his needs had been simple, his goals direct. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt lost, adrift. The feelings she had awakened in him were humbling. Always, he had believed himself above the things of this world. Now, he realized, he was a mere man, with all of man’s weaknesses, all of man’s appetites.
Moonlight streamed through the balcony window, casting the room in light and shadow. The door between their chambers opened. An ethereal figure drifted toward him, shimmering in a gown as delicate as a butterfly’s wings.
He tried to order her to go, but his voice was strangely silent. She continued moving toward him, hands outstretched.
He knelt up, catching her hands. At once he experienced a shock. His hands were empty. His eyes blinked open.
There was no one there. He was alone. In his troubled state he’d imagined her, warm and real and seeking him out as a lover.
He passed a hand over his eyes. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His heart was racing as though he’d climbed a rugged Highland mountain peak.
With a sigh of self-loathing, he tossed aside the bed linens and strode to the settle, where his clothes had been carelessly dropped the night before. He dressed in haste, then glanced at the dawn light streaking the horizon. The servants would be up and about in the kitchen. He would break his fast with them and join the men in the fields. If he worked long enough and hard enough, he might even be able to erase the image of Merritt Lamont from his mind for an entire day, though, in truth, he knew such a thing was unlikely.
“Here you are.” Merritt poked her head around the doorway of her mother’s old sitting room, where Shaw and Edan were engrossed in their books. “I have seen you not at all in the past few days, Campbell.”
“There was much work to be done.” He glanced up in time to see a vision in a velvet gown the color of dark forest foliage. At once he ducked his head and fixed his gaze on the book in front of him. The words ran together in a blur.
“Will you join us in the great hall for a midday repast?’ She felt ashamed of herself for this ploy, but it was the only excuse she could think of. She’d had a burning need to see him, and he had avoided her at every turn.
Shaw shook his head. “I requested that one of the servants bring our meal in here, so that we may continue with our lesson.”
“Aye. There is so much to learn,” Edan put in excitedly. “And Shaw says I have a fine mind.”
“You do indeed,” Shaw confirmed, “though your education in some
areas has been sorely neglected. You are clever and bright. I see a lad who shall one day assume his father’s position as leader of his people.”
The boy beamed under such lavish praise.
Merritt’s heart swelled with joy for her brother. “Oh, Edan, I am so happy for you.”
She glanced again at her brother’s tutor, who had been studiously evading her. Was it because of what had happened in his chambers? Could it be that, in the cold light of morning, he regretted his actions? It was obvious that he was uncomfortable in her presence. He had made it plain that he preferred the company of anyone else to her, seeking out the servants from sunup to sundown for the past several days. Now he had locked himself away with his books and her little brother, shunning her even at meals.
Oh, if only she could confide in Sabina, and partake of her wisdom. But her older sister had far too many duties to concern herself with such foolishness. Besides, Merritt could hardly tell a member of her own family that she was in such a turmoil over a Campbell.
Was she losing her mind or—Sweet Virgin!—her heart?
Was that what was happening? She could not. She must not. Still, if truth be told, the Campbell was on her mind, day and night. She had barely had a moment’s rest during the last few nights, knowing that only a door lay between her and the man who occupied all her thoughts. Once she had even padded to the door and stood uncertainly, her fevered forehead pressed to the cold wood. In the end, she had returned to her bed and lay huddled beneath the covers, praying for the dawn.
“Edan,” Shaw said, breaking through her musings, “would you like to display your newfound skills?”
“Aye,” the boy cried at once.
“Then,” Shaw said softly, handing him a scroll, “you may read aloud to your sister.”
As the boy’s voice washed over her, reading from the Book of Genesis, Merritt turned away and restlessly began to circle the room. The evidence of the servants’ diligence was everywhere. Dozens of precious parchments and scrolls had been dusted and placed on open shelves. The windowpanes had been polished to a high shine, allowing sunshine to spill into the room, forming patterns of light and shadow on the freshly scrubbed stone floor. Though the room was still sparsely furnished, the table and chairs gleamed with polish, and a new settle, draped with animal hides, had been positioned in front of the fireplace. A fire blazed on the hearth, lending its cozy warmth to the room.