Page 10 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

Then, all of a sudden, she felt the soft warm touch of Lyall’s lips on hers. For a heartbeat, she froze with shock, then responded, tilting her face to his and winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His tongue was gentle and moist in her mouth, stroking her own tongue, arousing her body in a way she had never felt before. There was a pleasant fluttering and a moistness between her thighs, and a feeling of wantonness that she had never experienced with Jock.

Ailith was acutely aware of his body’s primitive natural musk, the touch of his fingers on her heated skin, and the sound of his rapid breathing as he became more and more passionate. His arousal was pressing against her stomach, making her acutely aware that he was very much a large powerful man who could overcome her without even trying, but she was too far gone to care.

Then Lyall gently drew away from her and put his head down on the pillow beside her. He said nothing for a moment, but ran his big, rough hand down her cheek.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that," he said at last, his tone infinitely tender. “I am glad you woke, because otherwise I would have done nothing in case you thought I was taking liberties.”

“In that case," she replied softly, “I am glad I woke too, because I wanted to kiss you as well.”

He made no answer, but wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He was on top of the blankets and she was half-underneath, but they stayed together for a long while, saying nothing and lying in contented silence. Lyall, feeling the gentle strength of the woman in his arms, thought that heaven must feel something like this.

At last, with great reluctance, he stood up. “We should not be doing this," he said, his voice grim. “No matter how much I hate the idea, you are betrothed, and therefore not free. This will not happen again.” Then he turned swiftly and was gone.

6

Breaking the Betrothal

In the morning she saw neither Lyall or Fenella, but Lyall had written a note for her which a maidservant gave her at the breakfast table. Her hands shook as she unfolded the paper and read in Lyall’s big, scrawling script:

Mistress Galloway,

My apologies for not being able to greet you this morning, but I have been called away on an urgent matter which cannot wait. Fenella wanted to ride her new horse and begs your pardon too. She is young and sometimes very impatient.

What happened between us last night was unfortunate and should never be repeated, and I think we should avoid each other till you are safely married. I will not deny that I find you very attractive, but I am an honorable man and I believe you are an honorable woman. However, I hope that we can still be friends.

Sincerely,

Laird Lyall Stevenson

Ailith sat looking at the letter numbly for a little while, then pushed her uneaten breakfast away. She realized that she had been looking forward to seeing him very much, but he was right. She was betrothed to someone else and that was the end of it.

I have nothing to reproach myself for, she told herself. We had no knowledge of each others’ bodies. However, she knew that was a falsehood; they had not made love with their bodies except for a few beautiful kisses, but they had with their feelings. She now knew that she loved Lyall and thought that her feelings were reciprocated, but there was nothing either of them could do about it without breaking a few hearts along the way.

She thought for a moment about Jock; he was a good man and he was fond of her. She owed it to him to marry him for her father’s sake, since he had pleaded with her to do so.

When she had asked for a reason her father was evasive, and at last he had told her in no uncertain terms that she was going to wed him. Nonetheless, she had always felt that there was something else behind the pressure to marry, and it was not something good.

She took a bath, after which she rode back to her house in the village and began her work for the day. In the previous few days she had allowed her correspondence to accumulate, and now she had a pile of unread letters to answer. The first one on top of the pile was from Jock. She sighed and opened it.

My Darling Ailie,

I hope you are well since I have not seen you since the ceilidh. I am sure we have both been very busy, though, so I think it is time we caught up with each others’ news over dinner tonight. My gamekeeper has been busy with his bow, so we have fat pheasants to eat. I will see you later in the evening.

Your loving Jock

Ailith penned a quick reply and sent it with her messenger. She knew that she had to go, since she was officially betrothed to Jock, but she could not stand the thought of it.

She buried herself in work the whole day, attending to her letters and ordering the buying of new goods to trade. It took her mind off the evening ahead, but when she had finished all she had to do she sat back in her chair and wondered—if this was how she was feeling about dinner with Jock, how was she going to feel having dinner and going to bed with him every day for the rest of her life?

“So tell me,” Jock asked Fergus grimly. “What has my darling betrothed been up to since I last saw her?”

Fergus cast his eyes down to avoid Jock’s. He did not like him in this seemingly calm mood which was hiding a volatile anger underneath. He braced himself for a bellow of rage.

“She has been to see the Laird Stevenson," he reported. “She went to his castle in the afternoon but she did not come home last night. I sent one of my best men to follow her and paid him well. He spent a freezing night in the open but he said that she did not come out until well after dawn. The Laird had gone out two hours before.”

“So she slept there?” Jock’s voice was dangerously calm.

“It seems so, but the weather was too bad for her to ride home,” Fergus replied. He stopped his ears and screwed his face up as the blast of fury hit his ears. When he opened his eyes, Jock was pacing the room, his face crimson with rage.