Wrapped in the warm fire glow of the evening, Celia drew Colin even further into her embrace. As Colin's lips pressed against hers, his simple touch inflamed her. His strength surrounded her, infused her with a soft, tender ache. As Colin's grip grew tighter, his head angled deeply, and Celia felt his full lips open over hers. The luxurious warmth of his mouth conveyed tenderness, care, and, above all, a passion that could not be hidden away, ignored, or denied. Celia had no intention of denying that something which promised to consume them. No, she wanted to bury herself in him, lose herself within the solid goodness of him. Celia knew, deep inside, that in the end, she would be powerless in the face of their flaming passion.
Colin felt her lips open, admitting him to the velvet richness of her depths. He wanted to embrace her, protect her, have her. The sweetness of her thrilled him, tortured him with an agony that he knew would grow more exquisite with every moment.
But Colin knew that this was not the right moment for the feelings that threatened to unhinge their innermost desires. Their thoughts were in unison, for as they broke off the kiss, each smiled down at the bairn who was so contentedly watching the activity above him.
As Celia smiled down at Kit, her mind and body were in a state of turmoil. She could still feel Colin's strong hand against her back. Her lips still tingled from the pressure of their kiss. Her body ached at the very core of her being, crying out for more of his touch, his warm strength, for fulfillment of the longing that was growing within her.
But in her mind, a war was being waged in which reason was being blinded, in which the very presence of this man was enough to drive out common sense and control. When she looked at him, Celia felt her soul expand. Fed by the senses, something else within her was gaining strength, overwhelming her.
Gazing down at the child, Celia shuddered with confusion. What her heart was drawing her on to feel and to do, she knew was contradicted by other loyalties—by other promises.
Colin looked up at Celia's face, willing her eyes up to meet his. As their gazes met, Colin saw emotion welling up in her. Her look inflamed a desire to reveal himself to her, to let her know the depth of feeling that traveled clear to his soul, the feeling that touched her and all who were dear to her, as well.
Colin tried to express this by drawing her to him again. He brushed his lips lightly against hers, then leaned down and kissed the soft, red hair of the child on her lap.
Raising his head, Colin thought to gently kiss the mother's full, tender lips once more before standing away, before putting an end to this sweet torment. He wanted Celia, but he knew that this was not the moment. He tenderly moved his lips to her warm face for one last, soft touch, but the scent of her skin ignited the passion within him. Suddenly the agony was too great to restrain. He claimed her mouth once more, devouring her so completely with a new possessiveness that rocked him. Then Colin pulled away from their embrace and stood up.
“I'm having a rather difficult time, Celia,” Colin explained quickly, backing toward the fireplace, “keeping my hands off you.”
Celia simply looked down at Kit, but Colin could see the blush come to her cheeks.
“But I'm looking forward to continuing this...discussion...soon,” Colin finished, stumbling against the great oak chest. He turned with a smile. “Been redecorating, Celia?”
“Aye...right after you and Alec arrived, I moved it there,” Celia answered, still feeling a bit dazed by their moment's embrace, but also a bit embarrassed about Colin noticing the relocated piece of furniture. “I know it will not stop anybody, but I wanted to have a little warning if any stranger tried to use it. I still do not know where that panel leads, or even how to open it.”
“If you'll trust us enough to let me move it away, I'll show you how it works.”
Responding to Celia's nod, Colin easily pushed the chest clear across the room to the opposite wall. If she uses this chest to block that entrance again, he thought, I'll chop it into firewood myself. Coming back with a smile on his face, he motioned Celia toward the fireplace.
Celia stood, cradling the baby on her hip, and moved to the fireplace. Colin was reaching one hand into the left side of the open hearth. Bending her head, she saw his fingers easily locate a nearly invisible gap between two of the stones. He slid a thin piece of wood out slightly until the nearby panel popped open. Colin took a thick candle from the mantelpiece and lit it in the fire. Celia followed him to the panel, which Colin pulled open and stepped through.
Her face lit with anticipation, Celia walked through the opening and looked down the dusty, narrow passageway. On her left, Celia could just make out a set of steps leading down into darkness.
“Those steps eventually lead down to the same passages we came in earlier, but there are a number of doorways that are inaccessible to anyone who doesn't know the secret.”
“Who knows the secret?” Celia asked.
“My father, Agnes, and I are the only ones who know how to get up to this passageway. These entries are not used, so you can be assured that no one will be coming up those steps. You really are quite safe.”
Celia turned around and tried to look past Colin's massive body. She could see the wall of her fireplace jutting into the narrow corridor. There was what she assumed to be another fireplace jutting in from the other side.
“What's beyond the fireplaces? Can someone go out into the hallway from here?”
“Nay,” Colin responded, leading her past the fireplaces.
“Then where did you come from the first night.”
“From my room.”
“Your room! Where is that?” she asked suspiciously.
“Through this panel.” He grinned, sliding back the wooden latch and pushing open the panel into his room. “We conduct late night tours.”
Celia peered hesitantly into the warm glow of the warrior’s room. The rich tapestries on the walls and the comfortable furniture did nothing to lessen the masculine atmosphere of the chamber. The character of the room was surprising, just like its inhabitant. Her eyes traveled to the huge bed, its dark curtains drawn back.
“Is this tour open to all visitors to Kildalton Castle, m'lord?” she asked sarcastically.
“Nay,” Colin responded devilishly. “Just you.”
“Such a cozy arrangement. What was it that you said about my safety, just now?” Celia asked, smiling before turning her back on his handsome face. “I think I'll be moving the chest back over.”
Colin stopped her before she could re-enter her room. “I will not come into your bed until you invite me,” he said, gazing steadily into her eyes. “But if you want to come to me, you will not find any chest blocking my door.”
It would be only natural for him to assume that she would go to him—for him to assume that, after all, Lady Caithness had done this many times before, Celia thought.
Celia looked up into his face, but as much as she wanted to tell him everything about herself, to reveal all the truths that she held so tightly inside, truths that threatened to strangle her, she knew that there was no answer she could give him. Silence could be her only response.
She turned and carried the baby back into her room.
When she entered her bedroom again, Kit began to cry. “Are you getting hungry, my little man?” she said, trying to turn her attention from her own agitation. “I think we'll just change your wrappings and get you ready for when Ellen comes back.”
Celia crossed to Ellen's room and got the dry change of clothes for him. Carrying Kit back, she laid him on her bed, noticing that the panel was still open and that Colin had not re-entered the room. It would be better not to think about him right now. It would be better not to think at all. She busied herself stripping the wet things off the baby and cleaning him. When the child was free of the wrappings, he babbled with delight and pulled himself up to a standing position, holding Celia's fingers.
“Why would anyone want to hurt your bairn?”
Celia started at the sound of Colin's voice, in spite of the gentleness of his tone. Looking up, she saw he was standing with his back to the fireplace, and the panel to the passageway had been closed.
“Danvers has a bounty on every baby boy in the Lowlands.”
“A bounty?” Colin said with a mixture of surprise and disgust. “What reason would he have for doing that?”
“I cannot say,” Celia responded, looking intensely at the child and avoiding Colin's searching look. “I only heard it from two of Danvers's men when we were escaping from Caithness Hall.”
“Well, we are not in the Lowlands, and those were not Danvers's men,” Colin said sharply, sensing that Celia was not telling everything she knew. He had come to know the directness with which Celia communicated, and the way she was now avoiding his eyes, the visible tenseness in her body, told him that she was not being completely forthright.
“Well, you tell me who they are, then,” Celia snapped, her temper flaring momentarily.
Like two bulls butting heads, the two stubbornly refused to reveal anything they knew. Protectiveness restrained Celia; her sense of duty forbade her to speak. Colin's stubbornness was a direct response to hers.
“I cannot say,” Colin said, echoing Celia's own evasive words.
“Well, I'll find out on my own...and soon enough.”