Flame

Chapter 12

12

The flames, leaping up in the hearth behind him, made the earl’s shadow stretch out like some fiend, ready to snuff out the very existence of the young man standing against the far wall.

“And you’re certain that no one suspects you. Even now?”

“Aye, m’lord,” David said quietly. “No one suspects me of anything. To all of them, I’m just another stable lad. It runs in our blood—looking dim does—and my ma always said...”

The Earl of Athol raised a hand to silence his faithful young informer. He then started pacing the room, pulling thoughtfully at one ear as he strode before the fire. He stopped and looked back at the lad. “But back to what you just said. You’re certain that he survived the fire unscathed.”

“He did,” David bobbed his head. “When all the men were gathered in the hallway right outside his door, I sneaked behind them and watched the laird open his door. He escaped the whole thing without a burn marking his skin. I mean, everyone in the keep talks about the man sleeping like a corpse, but somehow he must have managed to wake up in time to save his hide.”

Sleeping like the dead is not truly wanting to be dead, Athol thought with a shake of his head. Gavin Kerr’s death wish didn’t run as deep as he’d been led to believe.

“It appears the man has some fight left in him yet,” Athol whispered, turning and staring into the flames.

Gavin’s response to her boldness left her utterly dazed.

Joanna’s breath caught in her throat. The wrappings on her palms were suddenly soaked. Her mind and her thoughts were in shambles. She shivered in his tight embrace, and thrilled at the feverish heat that was spreading through her.

A hungry sound emitted from Gavin’s throat as he deepened the kiss, crushing her closer to his hard, unyielding body. Intense longing swept over her. She could feel the heat of his bare chest burn and caress her. Then Joanna felt his tongue trace the edges of her lips, and she realized that he wanted her to open her mouth to him. Tentatively, she parted her lips, and Gavin’s tongue surged inside.

Stunned by the intimacy of the kiss, Joanna trembled, her knees weakening. The world spun around her, and she gripped Gavin’s shoulders very tightly, certain that she would fall if he were to release her.

But Gavin made no move to set her free. Instead, his bare arms tightened around her, pulling her so close that—through the haze of desire that was clouding her mind—she could feel the press of his manhood beneath the wool of his kilt. Vaguely, she knew she should be alarmed by the rising danger, but the aching of her breasts obliterated such thoughts of caution. More than anything right now, she wanted to feel her bare skin against his.

He shifted slightly, lifting her chin and running his fingers along the line of her jaw. She turned a bit in his arms, and his bare knee pressed against the inside of her thighs. She could feel the sinewy strength in his leg against hers. His hand caressed the skin of her throat, the top of her breast. Joanna took in a deep breath, her body rising to his touch. His fingers traced the wide neckline of her oversized dress and pulled it gently downward, exposing her flesh until her breast sprang free.

As his thumb circled her hardening n****e, Joanna gasped. Strange feelings flowed through her—wild, turbulent sensations—that were unlike anything she had ever known.

So this, at long last, was true passion. The thought emerged from the shadowy recesses of her mind, and a thrill of fiery excitement uncoiled within Joanna. She was alive—truly alive—and being given the chance to taste this fruit of heaven before reaching her life’s end.

With a surge of rapturous delight, she tightened her arms around his neck, matching and returning the pressure of Gavin’s demanding mouth.

“Joanna,” he whispered against her lips, breaking off the kiss and moving his lips to her ear. “You have bewitched me.” As he suckled her earlobe, his hand made a wider journey of her breast, kneading and caressing her firm flesh. Then, with a low groan, Gavin slid his hand around her hip and cupped her buttocks.

She felt him lift her body against him until she could feel his hardening arousal pressing against the juncture of her legs.

Joanna swayed in his arms, pleasure washing over her with each new sensation. The world around her was becoming fluid, dissolving with each passing heartbeat. This growing ecstasy—this sweet hunger that she felt in his embrace—it was now the ruling passion.

“I think the devil has possessed my soul,” he said hoarsely into her ear. Pressing her against the wall, Gavin took hold of her wrists and brought them down to her sides. His voice was ragged with desire. “Tell me to stop, Joanna, before I carry you to my bed.” His powerful hands gently cradled her face as he tipped her head back and stared into her eyes. “You are flesh and blood. And for too long I’ve looked at you, fancied you, dreamed of making love to you.”

Joanna stared into his chiseled face, his black burning eyes. Desire, like dark pools of molten steel, filled them, and she could feel the power of his control, taut and strained, but ready to unleash his own needs.

“Then do with me what you desire,” she heard herself whisper softly. Her body burned for him, for his touch. She knew only in the vaguest terms what to do, what to expect, but she also knew that she would die if he didn’t show her the rest of the way. His hands once again cradled her face.

“Make me yours. Now,” she added with a whisper, turning her face and kissing the palm of his hand. “I haven’t much time left to me. Grant me this one wish.”

It took only an instant for her words to sink in, and then the hands that had only a moment earlier gently caressed her, now inflicted pain as he took her by the shoulders in a vise-like grip.

She stared at him in amazement. His eyes were cold fury, and his fingers felt as if they would crush the bones beneath her skin.

“What the devil are you talking about? What do you mean, you have not much time left?”

The spell was broken and everything crystallized before her eyes. The chamber that had been blurred and dreamlike in his tender embrace, suddenly became a mass of sharply defined lines and colors.

“Joanna,” he said, shaking her hard and forcing her eyes to snap up to his. “Explain to me what you meant by those words.”

This outburst of temper, as stunning in its suddenness as in its ferocity, left her shocked and unwilling to speak. Whatever had possessed her to say what she had, was gone from her now, and Joanna knew it would be unwise to reveal anything of her plans to him. She pulled up the neckline of her dress to cover herself, and tried to gather her wits.

She fixed her gaze on the lips that were now drawn tight. “To the world, I’ve been dead for months. Alone in these caverns, I’ve thought a great deal of death. In my mind’s eye, I’ve seen myself die numerous times. I do not fear that end. We all must die someday—some of us sooner than others.”

“Don’t talk in riddles,” he ordered harshly, still holding her tightly. “You were not speaking of one’s destiny or of the heaven or hell that awaits us when our time in this life is through. You were speaking of yourself. What are you not telling me?”

She tried to laugh off his question. “You read so much into so little. Well, m’lord, you’re wrong,” She made an attempt to shrug her way out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t relinquish his hold on her. “Now let me go.”

“I am demanding that you, Joanna MacInnes, tell me...”

“Nay,” she broke in, her temper flaring as she thumped his broad chest hard with her fist. She might as well have hammered the walls of Ironcross Castle itself. “You have no right to demand anything of me.”

“I am the laird of these lands now.”

“Take Ironcross and be damned! That is nothing to me.”

“You will answer my questions.”

“I shall not,” she responded stubbornly, matching his glare, “Not until you calm yourself and tell me what cause you have for this anger.”

Gavin stared at her for a moment, and from his look Joanna was certain he thought her daft.

“Well?” she probed, feeling the weight of his hands still on her shoulders.

“You are the one who started all of this. You are the one who wished to be hidden. And then, trying to bewitch me...so soft and willing in my arms.”

Joanna felt her skin on fire at his words. She had indeed practically thrown herself into his arms.

“You may think yourself clever,” he continued, easing his grip and once again running his hands more gently down her arms. “You may very well be quite clever for surviving as you have for all these months. But tonight that has all come to an end. I have discovered you. You are alive and well. It’s time you stepped out of the shadows and told me what drove you to such foolishness.”

“Foolishness?” she flared. He was humoring her, treating her like an i***t who has no ability to think for herself. “What do you know of any of this? I swear by the Virgin, the only foolishness that I’ve committed in all this time, was to come here and try to save your miserable life from those flames.”

“You could very well have set the fire yourself.”

Joanna’s eyes flashed as if she had been slapped.

“Aye, you have been in and out of this chamber for days now. You yourself just told me that you’re the only soul living in the caverns beneath this keep. Who else other than you would have access to...?”

“Many, you simple-minded brute,” she snapped. “These passageways can be reached from a dozen rooms in this keep.”

“But no one—not even the steward—appears to know that they even exist.”

“And only a dolt of a laird will believe everything that he’s told.” She hit him on the chest again. “Release me.”

“When I’m done with you,” he said arrogantly. “Are you telling me that these people—these servants—know the ways and yet will not admit to it?”

“I’m telling you that these passageways are accessible even from outside of the castle...and that there are many who come and go without your knowledge.” She paused. “And there are some who bring death to your very door.”

“You mean other than you?”

“Other than me? You thankless knave.” She twisted her body in his arms. “You’re hurting me.”

Gavin’s eyes did not release her as he eased his grip on her shoulder. “Who? Who are these people that you talk of?” he asked.

“The same ones who, last fall, killed my parents, along with innocent, unsuspecting serving folk.”

The sudden quiver in her voice made Gavin stare more deeply into her blue eyes. They were so dark in the dim light of the chamber, but they showed the anger and pain, the intense sadness that lay curled like a snake around her heart.

“You know who killed your parents?” he asked at last.

She nodded without hesitation. “Aye. I know.”

“Then, why is it that you went into hiding? Why wait so long to bring justice down upon his head?”

The flicker of sorrow that he saw her quickly hide, was betrayed by the crystal droplets that pooled along the lids of her eyes. Gavin watched her struggle to hold back the tears. The mere mention of her loss and she had turned from a lioness to a battered lamb right before his eyes.

“Why did you not come forward sooner, lass?” he asked gently.

“I tried, but I could not bring myself to.” Joanna brought a hand up to her face to dash away at a tear that had escaped and lay like a diamond on her cheek. It was then, before she could hide it again, that Gavin caught hold of her bandaged hand.

To his great relief, she didn’t try to fight him this time. He stared at the loosely bandaged hand in his grip. The strips of linens wrapped around the palm and fingers only managed to cover parts of the damaged flesh. Patches of red, scarred skin showed around the edge. Gently, he drew the other hand from behind her back and examined that one as well. Though the scars were healing quite well, he knew they must have been extremely painful for some time after the fire. He looked up and found Joanna’s eyes locked on the picture hanging above his hearth.

“Now you know. I am not she.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “The Joanna MacInnes that you see in that portrait perished like the rest in that fire.”

What a blind fool he had been to not realize the pain and suffering she must have endured to survive. Since finding her alive tonight, he had not once voiced his sympathy over the loss of her family nor thought to ask if she herself had been hurt. Looking down again at the fingers that had now curled tensely in his palms, Gavin raised one of her fisted hands to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the exposed, red skin.

She withdrew it at once. “Do not pity me, Gavin Kerr.”

“There is no pity in what I do, lass.”

“Then why did you do...what you...” Frustrated, she cut her words short and looked away.

“For the same reason that I kissed your lips, your face. For the same reason I’ll kiss the rest of you as well, if you give me the chance.” He took a hold of her chin and brought her face around. It took great deal of control on his part to not bend down and kiss her again. Her eyes were dewy with the emotions battling within her, her skin glowing in the flickering embers of the fire, her lips swollen from his kisses. But a hint of a smile sat at the corner of her mouth. She had heard his confession.

“Seeing your bandaged hand,” he continued gently, “reminded me how thoughtless I’ve been.”

She stared at him, a hint of bewilderment evident in her face.

“I ask you, Joanna. Tell me about your life here. How have you managed to live since...since the fire?”

She started warily. “That is not a tale for one night, m’lord. Especially this night. As you can see, the sky is growing lighter outside your windows, and dawn will be breaking quite soon. You must release me, for I...I’m so tired, as you must be yourself.”

Gavin gazed into her eyes, reluctant to let her go. If this were a matter of trust, he considered how tenuous the thread was between them.

“You expect me simply to let you disappear like a spirit of the night?”

She nodded.

“I fear that if I were to let you go, in an hour I would wonder if you were ever here at all.”

“Would that be so terrible, m’lord?”

“Aye, lass.”

The deep violet blue of her eyes glistened as Joanna stared into his face. At last, she nodded again.

“I give you my word that I shall return to you. You have a guest to attend to, but I’ll come back.” She glanced around the chamber. “Perhaps then we can talk.”

To let her go was a foolishness, he knew.

Her words broke into his thoughts. “You now know that I live. And as large and complicated as the caverns beneath this keep might seem, I am certain if I were not to honor my part of the bargain, you would be able to find me. But I shall not break my word.”

He continued to look at her. She could seduce even a saint with that husky and alluring voice of hers.

“How do I know that you’ll be safe?”

Joanna tilted her head and peered at him, her face grave, but her look impatient. “Considering the...the accidents that have plagued you since arriving here, I should think your safety might be of greater concern to us at the present.”

“Have you been getting enough to eat while you’ve been in hiding? Has anyone been helping you? Bringing you food? Clothes?”

“You did not hear me,” she said quietly, the spark of anger again kindling in her eyes. “I told you your life is in danger.”

“Aye, I heard you, lass. But you must answer my questions if you expect me to let you go.”

She paused for an instant while studying his stubborn expression. “I’ve been eating better meals since you and your men arrived. And nay, no one knows that I’ve even survived the fire. I’m just one more ghost that wanders the halls and corridors of Ironcross Castle. So you see, there is no danger awaiting me outside of this chamber.”

The sound of the servants of the keep in the corridor right outside of his room drew Gavin’s attention, and he glanced at the open window. The first streaks of dawn were indeed beginning to brighten the eastern sky.

“I’ll come back,” she whispered again. “I promise you.”

Gavin’s eyes flew back to her bonny face. He couldn’t keep her here. He knew that. Molly and the other serving women would be turning this room upside down—as soon as he stepped out of it—cleaning up the damage caused by the fire. Of course, he thought, he could always force her into the open.

The image of John Stewart, Earl of Athol, staring longingly at Joanna’s portrait, came immediately to Gavin’s mind.

“You will come back tomorrow night...I mean, tonight,” he commanded with a growl that sounded more like a threat than an invitation. “You will return immediately after everyone has retired.”

She paused a moment, staring at him, her lips pursed. Then, obviously too tired to argue, she nodded her assent. “If you wish.”

“I do,” he muttered. He started to step aside to allow her to pass, but then he paused. “What happens if I need to get hold of you before then?”

“But why should you?”

“In case...how should I know? I simply want to know.”

Gavin scowled, and then watched her eyes glance about the room as she tried to think of an answer. She could take all the time she wanted, as far as he was concerned. The fact that she was alive, standing before him, all seemed so unreal, somehow. He just wanted to stare at her, study her, to drink in the pleasures of this enchantress who made him feel once again like an abbey school lad.

Too soon, her eyes brightened and returned to his. “If you ever need to get hold of me, go and see the priest, Father William. Have him take you to the underground crypt.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Joanna peered at him uncertainly. “You have?”

“Aye, he took me through the chapel when I first arrived.”

Her face cleared as she shook her head. “Nay. There’s another crypt, with tombs far older than the one you have seen. This one lies deep in the ground—far beneath the castle walls. The chaplain will know of an outside entrance to the place. Get him to take you there.” Joanna glanced nervously at the door as the sound of steps making their way down the corridor could be heard. She lowered her voice. “When you get there, just send the priest back the way he came, and then I’ll come to you.”

“But how will you know that I’m there?”

She edged around him. “I’m very much attuned to that room. Trust me, if you should need me, I’ll be there.”

As much as he wanted to, Gavin did not try to stop her as she moved quickly toward the panel in the wall.

“One more thing before you go,” he said, drawing her gaze. “Who set the fire that killed your parents, Joanna? You told me that you know the murderer.”

Her eyes bored into him as she stood by the open section of the wall. Her voice carried the note of absolute conviction.

“Mater,” she answered. “Mater killed them.”