Flame

Chapter 15

15

Adding another log to the hearth, Gavin came to his feet and stared into the leaping flames. For the entire ride back from the abbey, he’d tried to recall everything he’d learned from Lady MacInnes before leaving the Scottish court, since the old woman’s recollection of events past was the only thing he felt certain he could rely on.

By Saint. Andrew, from the time he stepped foot in Ironcross Castle, he had yet to hear a complete story from anyone, and that included Joanna. To Gavin, she was clearly too distraught from the tragedy she’d faced to relay anything that might be construed as rational or objective.

And what of Mater?

Leaning one arm on the carved mantle, Gavin pictured the old woman’s razor-sharp look. She cut an impressive figure—no question about that—taking the approach that she had. And she was clever, for it was an art to talk so tough and to be effective, without anything to back it up. To scare off an opponent with allusions to powers beyond those of the natural world. But that was her best possible defense, Gavin thought.

Still, though, there had been an attempt on his life. The acrid smell of drying wool wafted upward from his kilt, mixing with the lingering scent of burnt damask from the curtains that had hung from his bed. Someone had come into his room last night and had set his bed ablaze. Although he hadn’t had time to think about it before now, Gavin was certain that this had not been the result of any accident. He’d put out the wick lamp. There had been no candles left burning. The embers of the fire in his hearth were simply too far away for the mat of woven rushes to catch fire. Nay, it had been no accident.

And, Gavin decided, the intruder had been a person, not some demon invoked from the bowels of hell as Mater would like him to believe. Whoever had been here, the warrior felt with some certainty that he or she was living in this keep. No doubt it was someone who had witnessed Gavin’s repeated contest for possession of Joanna’s portrait, for the intruder had known him to be a sound sleeper. That was why the would-be killer had had enough courage to close the chamber’s shutters before setting the bed ablaze, hoping his victim would die amid the thick, choking smoke.

The soft sound of a latch sliding and the quiet creak of the panel opening on its hinges erased in an instant his thoughtful scowl, chasing all unpleasant thoughts from his mind. Gavin straightened before the fire and looked hopefully in the direction of the secret door. As she stepped through and closed the panel door, Joanna’s frame formed a shadowy silhouette on the wall from the light of the crackling fire.

She’d come, just as he knew she would.

She hesitantly stepped further into the room and met his welcoming gaze. My God, he thought, she is beautiful. This time, not quite so dazed as he had been the first time they’d met, Gavin let his eyes study her face. She had been truthful when she’d said that she was no longer the woman in the portrait. A bit thinner in the face; paler in complexion; her eyes larger, wilder, and somewhat more intense; her lips fuller; her features all combined to make her even more stunning than the incredible beauty captured by the brush of oil over canvas.

Tonight she’d pulled her golden hair back, and Gavin’s eyes followed the one long, thick rope of a braid that draped over her shoulder, hanging down over her breast nearly to her waist. She still wore the same large old dress he’d seen her in the previous night. The dress seemed designed to hide all signs of her womanly curves, though it did indeed reach only to her ankles. But, looking at the smooth, ivory skin above the square neckline, Gavin felt the prickling warmth stir in his loins at the recollection that he had touched and caressed what was beneath the ill-fitting garment. Gavin glanced with a lusty appreciation at the sculpted beauty of the legs showing below the hem of the dress and above the tops of the soft, worn shoes that covered her feet. The singed marks around the hem reminded him of how close she’d come to getting hurt herself.

Suddenly he was startled from his reverie by the sight of her bandaged hands tugging at her skirts in an effort to cover her legs. As he glanced up with amusement at her actions, he was rewarded with a revealing view of the tops of her ample breasts above the neckline of the dress.

Her dark blue eyes flashed at him as she realized the futility of her actions, and she crossed her arms over her breasts.

“So you have come back.”

“I told you I would.”

His eyes again wandered lingeringly over her body.

“But I don’t want you to assume...” she started quickly. “I mean, since I’ve come back tonight...”

Even her voice had the husky resonance of some rare, unworldly creature. She was like some fine angel sent to watch over the night dwellers of this dangerous and uncertain world, Gavin thought, waiting for her to continue.

Obviously frustrated, she let out a long breath and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s just what happened between us last night. I don’t want you to think...”

“You don’t want me to think that I owe my life to you.”

She nodded, and then shook her head. “Nay, that’s not it at all.”

Gavin continued unperturbed. “And you don’t want me to think that I should expect you to watch over me.”

She shook her head again. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Oh, so I do owe my life to you and you will watch over me and protect me,” he teased.

Joanna looked at him through slitted eyes. She was quick to rile, Gavin recalled, thinking of their short encounter last night. He liked that in her.

“That was not what I was about to say. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Then why not tell me what exactly was on your tongue?” A bonny shade of pink had now settled on her cheeks.

“I was...I am trying, but you keep interrupting me.”

Gavin started toward her. “I promise to not interrupt. Please continue.” She was watching him suspiciously as he moved around her to the closed panel, coming close enough to her that his arm brushed softly against her shoulder.

Checking to see that the secret door was securely closed, Gavin turned and glanced at her slender shoulders and straight back. More than anything else right now, he just wanted to reach for her, turn her in his arms, and feel her lips beneath his. As if reading his mind, she looked quickly over her shoulder, giving him a withering scowl. He shot a smile at her in return before moving away from the panel.

“You were saying?” he asked, walking toward the small table that was spread with food. Gavin had used the ordeal of the previous night as an excuse for retiring to his chamber as the visiting bard had begun to sing what was sure to be a long tale of the ancient Celtic hero, Cuchulain. Gavin’s guest, the Earl of Athol, had seemed to take no offense at his host’s decision. Striding out of the Hall, Gavin had sent Peter in with a word to the cook to have some food sent up to his chamber.

And the cook had done as she was told, providing a formidable spread of meat, fish, breads, sweetmeats, and wine. But now, looking at the candles already half burnt in length, Gavin realized that had been hours ago. Joanna had taken her time in coming.

He glanced back at her and found her attention focused on the table filled with food. Lifting the covers off the dishes, he breathed in the aromatic scents of food that immediately filled the room.

“Since you no longer recall your earlier concerns, would you do me the honor of joining me for a bit of supper?”

Joanna lifted her eyes slowly from the food and stared into his face. “You need not have gone to all this trouble just to question me. I’ve come back here of my own free will, and with the intention of telling you whatever you wish to know.” The young woman hesitated. “Though I’m certain you will not like nor believe some of what I have to say.”

Gavin was not quite ready to engage her in an argument over Mater, so he stood behind a chair and waited. “But I did go through to ‘all this trouble,’ and our supper is waiting. So why not join me?”

“And your questions?” she asked, gnawing her lip.

“Trust me, I shall not forget them.”

“And...” She held her chin high. “And is there something else?”

He gazed at her with raised brows, shaking his head questioningly.

“You know what I’m speaking of. Beyond just the answers to your questions.”

“You mean in exchange for this food?”

She nodded, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you truly think me such a brute, Joanna?” He gave the table a reproachful glance. Then, he let his eyes travel the length of her appraisingly, noting how her body grew even more tense beneath his scrutiny. Suddenly, he shook his head determinedly. “Never.”

“Now, if this were food from the kitchens of my cook at Ferniehurst Castle—or even a dish served at Ambrose and Elizabeth Macpherson’s...”

As he’d hoped, at the mention of those names from her past, Joanna brightened immediately. “Do you know them?”

He stared at her, mesmerized by the radiance that emitted from her. This was the first time she’d smiled since he’d seen her, and suddenly she lit up the chamber.

“They happen to be my closest friends,” he answered finally. “In fact, I might say that they are the only friends I have.”

“Then you must be quite difficult to get along with.” She frowned. “Are you?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve only recently met, I would be a great fool to answer such a question, would I not?” Gavin pulled the chair back and made a courteous bow, inviting her to sit. “Why not keep my company during this dinner and then decide for yourself about my...suitability as a companion.”

She started across the room and then hesitated, studying him with a somewhat guarded expression. Then, at last resolving the issue that was holding her back, she nodded and closed the distance between them.

Gavin didn’t realize that he’d been holding his breath until she began to sit. Watching the soft, golden braid that now trailed down her back, the span of creamy skin showing above the neckline of her dress, the Lowlander openly admitted to himself that learning the truth about the past six months was not the only thing on his mind.

“I hope you’re not planning on standing behind me while I eat.”

“I...well…I plan to do no such thing,” he said as casually as he could, taking his own seat beside her. His knees brushed against her skirt, and he noticed how quickly she adjusted herself in her chair, moving it until a discreet distance existed between them. Then she turned her deep blue eyes back to his face. He flushed, suddenly feeling again like a lad at the abbey school, and the thought raced through him that a man could happily drown in the depths of those eyes.

“So you know the Macphersons?” Her question was punctuated by a growling noise from her stomach that had the sound of a charging boar.

As the color abruptly rose in her face, Gavin was reminded of the sight of wild flowers in an open field. A noisy open field, he thought wryly, but a bonny one, nonetheless.

“Aye, I’ve known the family for many years.” He turned to the food and began to serve her. “Though I must admit that Ambrose was the one who introduced me to the rest of the family.” Placing a heaping trencher before her, Gavin next reached for the pitcher and filled their cups with wine. She stared at the food but hesitated to start, so Gavin reached for a piece of bannock cake and tore it, handing her half. This was all the encouragement Joanna needed.

“And you?” he probed.

“I’ve only had the pleasure of getting to know Elizabeth and Ambrose.” She paused and closed her eyes after she took the first bite. The expression of pure pleasure on her face made Gavin envy the food she ate. With the longing of a pauper, he watched her full lips pause as she savored each bite before taking the next. What he wouldn’t give to have those lips against his.

By His Wounds, Gavin thought with a start, if he didn’t say or do something to distract himself from this line of thinking, he would be hauling her on his lap in a moment.

“You...” he stumbled, searching for something to say. “You never met Alec Macpherson and his wife Fiona at court?”

She opened her eyes and glanced at him with some embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what was it that you asked?”

“I said I wondered that you were not one of the legion of women at court who spent their time mooning over John Macpherson.”

The severity of her scowl almost made him laugh. “This was not what you said. You said something about Ambrose’s older brother and his wife.”

“So you did hear me. And yet you pretended to be lost on the moor somewhere.”

“I was just testing your honesty,” she replied casually, turning her attention back to the food before her. “And your temperament.”

Gavin leaned back and watched her with amusement as she started again on the supper. “So I failed.”

“Aye, miserably,” she answered, swallowing a mouthful. “But I’ll disregard it this time and give you another chance.”

He gave her a bow of the head. “And I’ll take that chance.”

Joanna gave him a small smile as she took a sip of wine from her cup.

The warrior felt the hunger stirring within him, but he knew that food would offer no remedy for it. His eyes brushed over the soft lines of her throat. He could see the flicker of her pulse beneath the ivory skin. Clenching his jaws together, Gavin leaned back and crossed his arms over his massive chest, watching her as she continued to eat.

“So back to my question,” he probed, reaching over and lifting his cup of wine. “About the Macphersons.”

“Aye, I met Fiona and Alec, but only once, at Elizabeth’s studio. And nay, I never mooned over John Macpherson. But then again, I never met him, and I know many who do think...highly of him.” She raised a brow and looked seriously into his face. “Now that you mention it, I must say that Ambrose failed me in not introducing me to his younger brother, the good Lord of the Navy, when there was a chance. But if he had...and if he be anywhere near as handsome as his two older brothers...” Joanna gazed at him with the innocence of a lamb. “Who knows, perhaps I might have joined the moonstruck legions at his feet.”

Gavin glared at her for a moment. “You have a devil in you, Joanna MacInnes.”

“And you seem to bring it out in me.”

“I asked a simple question.”

“Aye, a question tainted with your mischief. You deserve worse than you received.”

“Humph,” he snorted. “To be told a Highlander, particularly one as ugly as John Macpherson...not that I don’t feel a fondness for his family...well, to be told that the lout is handsome.” He looked at her with shock. “If you’re implying that he is superior to...”

“You just have to learn to accept your flaws.” She patted his arm gently with a bandaged hand. “But, being a Lowlander and a Border man, to boot, you surely must be accustomed to such comparisons.”

Gavin growled at her, and Joanna quickly snatched her hand away.

“Well, perhaps I shouldn’t be so harsh. I shall try, in the future, to be gentler.”

With a pitying look, she hid a smirk as she turned her attention back to her food.

She had a sense of humor. She had charm. And she had beauty. By His Wounds, Gavin thought, what had she been doing locked away in these vaults for the past six months? Add those qualities to the wealth she brought to a marriage, and she became the kind of woman that men fought over, so often to the death. Men with power and wealth of their own—men like Athol and Gordon. Perhaps men like himself, Gavin admitted grudgingly. But never before, he added quickly, had he ever had the inclination or the desire to pursue any woman.

Well, not for the purpose of marriage, he thought wryly, his eyes once again taking in her perfect features, her stunningly feminine form. But though Joanna brought out the deepest feelings of l**t in him, already he felt that there was something more in this woman, this almost otherworldly creature whose very portrait had captivated him. He had only kissed her once, and yet some insatiable thirst had plagued him since, a whispering in his brain telling him over and over that he must have her. That he would have her. Not simply tonight or tomorrow, but for a time beyond the present—perhaps far beyond the here and now.

Joanna looked up for a moment, and he found himself again drowning in the violet blue of her eyes. For perhaps the first time in his life, Fortune had condescended to smile on him, in bringing Joanna into his life. Something deep inside him—something he had felt stirring from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her portrait—was telling him that he’d been brought to the Highlands for a purpose. Now more than ever, Gavin felt the certainty that he and Joanna had been brought together for a greater design than just bringing justice to those who had murdered her parents.

He took a deep breath and wondered if he should dare hope for such a blessing.

“It is quite unusual,” she said quietly, looking up and catching his eyes again. “I mean you from the Borders, being so friendly with a Highland clan.”

“Well, my ancestry is tainted with a wee bit of Ross blood from my mother’s kin, so it’s probably a weakness on my part.” This time it was she who growled, a response that pleased him immensely. “But what you say is true,” he continued, looking away. “I know it’s rare indeed for a Lowlander to trust the wild, thieving blackguards that roam these hills. Exceptions do exist, though.”

Gavin didn’t need to look up to feel the daggers that were blazing from her eyes. He reached for the pitcher and filled his cup, swirling it in his hand. He noticed now that she was already finished with nearly everything he had served her. She must have gone without a solid meal for days, Gavin decided, perhaps weeks.

“Every now and then, you know, it’s possible to find a fairly refined Highlander with whom a body might not be too embarrassed to be seen.” He swallowed a mouthful of wine and looked at her. “But did I mention, it’s rare?”

“Aye, you did.” Without any ceremony, Joanna reached across the table and, picking up his untouched trencher, emptied the contents onto her own.

“I can see there’s no reason for any pretense of refinement when you already think me a barbarian.”

“So you take my supper,” he complained, placing his cup back on the table and leaning toward her menacingly. “You know we Lowlanders are not known to share.”

Joanna shrugged her shoulders as she reached in front of him and snatched the piece of bannock cake that he’d left, as well. “But we Highlanders have been known to steal.”

With the speed of lightning, he caught her hand in his grip. They both glanced at the piece of bread still clutched in her fingers, then their eyes again met.

“And we Lowlanders are known to take back what is ours.” Slowly, Gavin started to haul her bandaged fist—and the bread—toward his mouth. She tried to resist him, but her weak struggle could have no more affect against his overwhelming strength than a lamb might in the clutches of a lion. Closer and closer her hand moved to his mouth, until suddenly Joanna rose from her chair and, leaning over quickly, she took the bread between her teeth.

“Ah,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “But we Highlanders are far too fast to get caught.”

Gavin fought back a smile, instead glaring at her threateningly as she munched defiantly on the bread.

“Return it to me,” he growled in jest, letting go of her hand and roughly taking hold of the braid at the back of her neck.

Joanna shook her head as she fought his hold. “But especially, we’re too fast for you lazy Lowlanders.”

“You call me lazy?” He brought her face closer to his own, as he relaxed his rough grip on her hair.

“It would not be very smart for me to admit to that, now would it, m’lord?” Her voice suddenly turned silken in her defiance, her eyes smoldering with a glow of embers as she returned his gaze. All jesting disappeared in an instant as something far stronger than mirth took hold of the two of them.

Gavin could wait no longer before tasting her lips. As he framed her face with his hands, his mouth supped on her full lips. “I believe I can taste my dinner,” he whispered wryly, drawing back a breath.

She gave him a soft smile in return. “Nay. But perhaps they can send something up from the kitchens for you.”

“Think what you like,” he replied, brushing his lips against hers. “But what I have in mind promises to be far more delectable than anything that cook Gibby could dream up.”