The Touch 0f Her Hand (Highlander Heroes Book 1) Read online

  Quickly enough, before other incredible ideas took flight, Tess laid these dubious imaginings away. Conall thought only of Marlefield. Any feeling he might portray was motivated by his desire for Marlefield. Never for his prisoner. Never for Tess.

  Three days later, Tess had seen Conall not at all during the day but, as was proven by disturbances within the chamber she noted each morning, knew he spent his nights here. Surely, though, not in the massive bed with her. She liked to think this was something that, even while sleeping, could not escape her notice. Possibly, the herbal mix that Metylda had left behind to help with the pain, and which Serena insisted she take twice a day, might have something to do with her sound sleeping of late.

  Daily, Serena changed the linens which bound her knees. Tess was awed by the grotesque damage done to her by the sword but was assured by Metylda, who visited two mornings after Tess’s misadventure, that all would heal well, with nary a scar.

  It was on her forth night in the beast's chamber that Tess was disturbed from her slumber. Thus far, she had managed, despite the obvious company she was keeping, to sleep uninterrupted. Tess thought a shift in the mattress might have been what disturbed her. She opened her eyes to find Conall hovering over the bed, then straightening with something in his arms.

  "What is it?" She asked.

  Conall stilled. "Go back to sleep, lass."

  "What have you there?" Tess sat up.

  "Bethany," he answered. "She steals in every night to lie beside you. "

  Tess was stunned. "Then why do you take her away?"

  "She might cause damage to your legs." He sounded disgruntled.

  "No, she won't. You mustn't."

  "She’ll go to Serena as she has these last few nights."

  "No, bring her to me," Tess insisted. She was heartened that the woeful child had sought her out and then angered that Conall would so uncharitably remove her. "Leave her here," she again insisted as Conall remained unmoving with indecisiveness. Finally, with a disagreeable sigh, he replaced the sleeping child at Tess’s side. Tess turned, not without pain, and propped herself up on her elbow to stare at the child, who had curled toward Tess.

  Such a beautiful child. So very lonely. Tess stroked the girl's soft blonde hair, then quite happily laid her head upon her arm and soon had drifted back to sleep, with Bethany tucked into her side.

  In the morning, Tess woke to the feel of her hand being held between two small ones and opened her eyes to find Bethany regarding her shyly.

  "Good morn, Bethany," Tess said with a smile.

  The child, as expected, did not reply. Just sat there, holding Tess’s hand.

  The door to the chamber opened and a man entered. It was the MacGregor's captain, Tess saw, John Cardmore.

  "There you are, lass," he called to Bethany, whom Tess noted only shifted her head at the huge man. "Pardon and all, Lady Tess," John Cardmore said. "Serena's been looking for this mite. 'Tis time for her meal. I dinna hope you’d mind her creeping in here at night."

  "Not at all, Captain," Tess said.

  "She seems quite taken with you. Dinna take to many. I'd thought it'd harm no one to let her up."

  "I welcome her company." Then to Bethany, "But the captain has come to take you to Serena, Bethany. You should go now and break your fast."

  Bethany continued to stare silently at Tess.

  "Promise me that you'll come again." Tess nodded and hoped the child would do the same, to show she understood. She did not but released Tess’s hand and scooted off the bed. Tess watched her leave, allowing the captain to take her small hand in his.

  For quite a while, Tess thought of little else save Bethany, actually craving the beast's presence that she might question him about the girl. But, keeping with his habit of avoiding her during the day, he did not show himself. Serena arrived later in the morning with a trencher of bread and cheese, followed shortly by the ever-gloomy Dorcas, who once again was charged with giving Tess a bath. The mean-spirited woman made no effort to keep her thoughts to herself, letting Tess know that her injuries were the least she deserved for the trouble she had caused the MacGregor. In spite of this, the woman was careful not to dampen or disturb the bandages about Tess’s knees. For her part, Tess was happy for the bath, despite having to bear Dorcas' criticisms.

  She refused any more of the drug Metylda and Serena continued to insist she needed and then was able to remain awake that night, awaiting the arrival of Bethany. She was not disappointed. Shortly after sundown, the door creaked open and Bethany's small head appeared, peeking into the room. She was not alone. Tess was quite astonished to see that the MacGregor's captain, John Cardmore, was actually the force behind the opening of the solid door.

  Upon noticing that Tess was clearly not asleep, indeed, was sitting up in bed, John cocked his head to one side and said, rather sheepishly for one so large, "Ach, now I've been found out."

  "You have been helping Bethany to steal into this room?" Tess asked. "Come darling," she added sweetly for Bethany's benefit, patting the space beside her. The little girl wasted no time but dropped the captain's hand and climbed up beside Tess. Tess gave her a quick hug and happily watched the child settle herself upon the bed. Tess pulled the coverlets about the small body and raised her eyes to the captain, awaiting his explanation.

  “Here now, lass, 'tis only that I've a wee soft spot for the lass, having no kin of her own. She wants to be with you." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "If you'd no deny her, then neither can I."

  "I thank you for allowing her to be with me." Tess placed her hand atop the child's head, marveling at the softness of her baby fine hair.

  "It makes the lass happy."

  "It makes me happy."

  John Cardmore only nodded. Clearly, his motives concerned only Bethany. Nevertheless, Tess was truly grateful for his assistance. Captain Cardmore nodded again before moving his eyes to the child, all but sleeping already, and, satisfied that Bethany was well received, he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Only moments later, Tess heard voices outside the chamber, raised not quite to shouts, but heightened enough that Tess recognized that of the beast arguing with his captain, though the words themselves Tess could not discern. The voices died away after a few curt exchanges. Footsteps receded down the passageway just as the door to the chamber opened again.

  The beast had come. He'd clearly been advised that she was not yet asleep for he seemed not at all surprised to find her awake and watching him.

  "Do not reproach your captain for bringing Bethany to me. I want her here."

  "She should no be here." His tone was abrupt. He tossed his sword and belt carelessly onto the chair in the corner of the room and knelt at the hearth to stoke the fire.

  "Why would you want to deny this child anything?" Tess bravely continued.

  Still down upon one knee, Conall turned his head toward her. Fire played upon the contours of his face, hugging the planes, blurring the shallows. His eyes, that ever-striking blue, were rendered dark and fiery. "For her own good. She needs rules.”

  "She is too young to understand all that has happened."

  "She has lived at Inesfree for nigh on two years," Conall protested as he rose and stretched his arms above his head.

  Tess momentarily lost track of her thoughts. Conall may well be the enemy, and true enough had proven himself the very devil at times, but he was a rather remarkable presence. Not handsome as a young girl dreamed a lover to be, nor merely agreeable to look upon as a hopeful woman wished for in her mate, but there was an appeal about him, nonetheless. His body, for one, defied all that seemed logical. Too big, too muscular. Too perfect. Hard, tight skin was pulled even more taut across the bulging mass that was his chest as he stretched. His arms lifted higher in their search for ease, defining the leanness of his waist. He was big and male and powerful, and he was not at all unpleasant to look upon. Tess stared unabashedly as he reined in the stretch, rolling those unbelievably broad shoulders as perh
aps he often did to relieve the day's stresses. His head fell back, his eyes closed briefly.

  Truly, it could not have been designed any better. That such a brawny and powerful body was crowned by a face of perfectly rugged character. Hard, yet noble. Wizened, yet still youthful. Beautiful, Tess guessed, if one appreciated such a craggy, earthy figure. The longer she stared at him, at that face that was both handsome and not, the more Tess was sure that his appeal did merit greater consideration. Up until now, he had simply been the man who held her prisoner. Someone to be feared and wary of as he held her future, should there be one, in his hands. He was, very simply, the beast.

  The beast pulled up his head. His eyes opened and lit on Tess, who immediately closed hers. She'd not want to be caught staring—gaping, as it were—and too, they had been discussing something. She was about to reply to something he'd said.... Oh, yes, that was it. She opened her eyes. He was watching her with a steely gaze.

  "But she has suffered a great trauma and has no real family of her own."

  "She has the MacGregors and the MacDonnells," Conall retorted evenly, though his frown was heavy.

  A thought occurred to Tess. She tilted her head and asked, "Or is it just me? You don't want her to become attached to me, do you?"

  The lines across his forehead deepened. But he did not respond, only shook his head and stalked to the window.

  "I'd wager you made no such fuss over her attachment to Serena or John Cardmore," Tess ventured. Then, with a bit of resentment, said, "Perhaps your Munro prisoner is not what might deem a suitable companion to the child?”

  MacGregor turned on her, pointing a finger to underscore his words. "Serena and John will be in her life forever!" He hissed.

  "Oh," Tess said, quite stupefied. She lowered her head and bit her lip. A frown came with the dawning of understanding. After a moment, sharp green eyes lifted and connected with his. "You speak of a marriage, but you've no intention of living one. You've plans to be shot of me should I ever concede to such a course. Or, mayhap I am being too generous. Perhaps my original suspicions will prove true."

  Hands on his hips, obviously short on patience, MacGregor asked, "And what do you suppose my plans to be?"

  "What I originally knew to be true. You plan to murder me. If ever I did marry you, I might wager that I'd not live to see the day after."

  Conall rolled his eyes and threw up his arms. "And what would be the benefit of that?" He shouted now, making no attempt to keep his voice low for the sake of the sleeping child.

  "The obvious reason would be to have Marlefield, with the marriage, but the bride of your choice, with my death."

  Conall advanced quickly on her, leaning over her, fisted hands on the mattress, his face inches from hers. "Think, Tess," he advised in a dangerous whisper. "Think about this for just a moment. Do you no think if that were my intention, I could easily manufacture evidence of a marriage? A certificate? Witnesses? I would need you no at all, and you would be dead already."

  Tess swallowed the lump in her throat caused by his proximity and his words.

  Conall shoved himself up off the bed.

  "You understand that I can trust no one, least of all you," Tess argued. "And certainly not your motives, nor intentions."

  "I want to marry you—”

  "For nefarious purposes," she finished, her own ire risen. "Greed is not a justification for a wedding."

  "And pray tell, what is?" He kicked his sword and belt off the chair and plopped down into it, his long legs stretched out before him. "Dinna speak to me of love and need as reasons. They are for weaklings and dreamers."

  "As any unmarried man would claim," she contended. "When I choose a mate—”

  "It will be me."

  Tess only shook her head. How many times did one have to refute this? She sighed and started again, "When I marry, it will have more to do with the love you ridicule, and respect, and admiration—"

  "Such as you felt for your previous betrothed?" Conall lifted a brow, his elbow on the arm of the chair.

  Tess’s chin rose. "Alain wanted to marry me because—"

  "Because your father arranged it. Should you happen to have your way, should you manage to escape me, any future marriage—other than to me—will be for the same reason: because your sire demands it."

  "That is only partly true. Alain and I had profound respect for one another."

  "I was there, Tess," he reminded her, leaning forward, his voice ugly. "I saw the entire encounter between you and the esteemed Alain. I saw his love of self, his bare tolerance of you, and even your silent but futile attempts to find something in him to appreciate."

  There was little to refute there, Tess reluctantly determined. The man saw entirely too much through those dark eyes. Instead, Tess concentrated on her hands, worrying the blankets in her lap. When she looked up, the MacGregor was on his feet again, doffing his mail and tunic.

  She did not stare outright at his naked back and arms and chest. But she did steal glances from her purposefully averted eyes. It was not as if she'd never seen a man's bare upper body before. Still, she had never, she knew this to be absolutely true, seen anything like Conall MacGregor. All that had been hinted at earlier, when he'd stretched in such a lazy feline way, was heightened now minus his tunic. In this room, by the soft flashing light from the hearth, his skin was bronzed, every muscle and hollow shaped and caressed by the flicker of firelight.

  Powerful. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, that was the word she'd always thought of in conjunction with the beast. From that very first encounter, she'd realized his powerful presence, had been terrified by it. It was still true; the perception was still correct. His body, the size, the shape, the very fitness of it, proclaimed loudly his power. At this very moment, however, Tess feared not the might but her response to the very visible and admittedly, very appealing power of the man—not the beast.

  "The other reason I’d deny you Bethany's company, lass," he went on, having no idea of the tumult she wrestled with, "is because she sleeps in my bed."

  "But I've been in your bed for five nights. Sleep tonight wherever it is you've been sleeping since then." He faced her again and Tess was confronted with the solid wall of his chest, barely dusted with black hair tapering down to a vee where his breeches still held onto trim hips. Suddenly, as she had never believed before, Tess imagined his eyes might actually be the safer, less disturbing point on which to focus.

  Conall stared at her, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I have slept beside you, lass."

  "Y-you have not." But she had suspected....

  “I have.” Just a statement, no smugness.

  "I...I would have known," this, with doubt. "I thought you slept on the floor—"

  "And give up my bed for you, lass? " He climbed in beside her, putting Tess between himself and Bethany, his size forcing her to move nearer to Bethany. "You sleep verra soundly, lass. Your hair is quite bothersome as it seems to be everywhere. But aside from that, no at all unpleasant."

  He laid back while Tess continued to sit up, her back ramrod straight now with indignation. Her eyes darted around the room, seeking an alternative. With her still tender knees, she could not very well leap out of bed to sleep elsewhere, even if he would allow it. She could cry all she wanted for his exit, but it would do her little good, she guessed.

  But to lie next to him.... So very close. Had Bethany not been here, she would have at least been afforded more space for retreat.

  "Will you sleep sitting up?" He asked from behind her, a grin quite evident in his voice.

  She made no response for he knew very well she could not. Indeed, he knew exactly what troubled her at the moment and no doubt enjoyed her discomfort. This sure knowledge, of course, raised Tess’s hackles. No doubt, he found joy in her predicament, which perversely made her want to show him that it affected her not at all. As casually as was possible while her stomach roiled, Tess pressed herself back upon the pillows and knew immediately, withou
t a doubt, that the bed had shrunk.

  CHAPTER 10

  She did sleep soundly.

  Many hours later, very close to dawn, Conall was awake, turned to face Tess, propped up on his elbow. He had learned these last few nights that there would be little sleep for him so long as Tess lie in his bed. He should have found another bed. But he would not leave her.

  There was something worth noting about how he felt having her here—or rather, knowing she was here, safe, and with him. He could not dispel the image of exactly how she had stared up at him when the hag was just about to start stitching her legs. He was the laird of all people MacGregor and MacDonnell and had been for several years, but he would swear that no one had ever looked at him like that, with need. She’d been fearful and she had looked to him to calm and comfort her. He was not at all immune to how powerful and satisfied that had made him feel.

  But now, how could he possibly sleep knowing that she was so close? Within arm's reach. When every breath taken brought the scent of her to him.

  Her hair, as he'd told her earlier, was everywhere. It was splayed about her head much as a crown, long enough unbound that some of it was tucked under his hip, other strands curled around her own arms. Conall lifted a lock, brought the tress to his nose, rubbing it back and forth while he watched her. Her closed eyes formed half-moons across her face, the shadow of her lashes striking out against her cheeks, long and thick.

  Bethany's head was tucked into the pillow on the other side of Tess, their faces close. Their skin was very similar, Tess’s being of a rather porcelain quality, much as the child's. Releasing the lock of hair, Conall ran the pad of his forefinger over Tess’s cheek. So soft, he mused, moving his finger down along her jaw. It was quite a natural progression for him to trace the outline of her mouth. The extreme softness and alluring fullness of her lips intrigued him, seduced him. She turned her head, only fractionally, perhaps in response to his touch. Her lips were mere inches from his and it took barely any movement to claim them. Softly, for he wished only a taste. He did not want to waken her. But just a taste of Tess was not nearly enough. She sighed beneath him and he deepened the kiss, sliding an arm underneath her back.