The Thistle and the Rose(33)

“Nay, I could tell you haven't. But you can try me first, before your master does.”

“Try you?” Celia snapped. “You think Colin Campbell's going to try you?” She would take his eyes out first, before letting him pull something like this around her.

“Why? You think I am not good enough for your master?” the girl asked saucily.

“That's it,” Celia said. “Actually, there is nobody in this castle that is good enough for Lord Colin Campbell.”

“That might be true right now, but not for long,” the girl said, bragging.

Celia knew from her days at court that the best pieces of information always came about during conversations like this one.

“Sure, talk is cheap,” Celia said, taunting her. “Your earl never could get any lady of quality up here, not like the ones my master is used to.”

“He could, too. In fact, he's done it. Any day now we are expecting a quality noble lady to arrive.”

“Arrive where?” Celia asked, looking around her. She laughed to herself at the thought that she was the “noble lady” this young woman was speaking of. “In the middle of this dump? This place is so dirty and worn out that no quality lady would stay here.”

“Aye, here. And the word in the kitchen is that the lady will stay, too. My earl is going to have her marry him.”

“He cannot!” This was more than Celia had expected to hear. Her initial dislike of Argyll had just been substantiated. But could Father William have known this?

“He can too. Word has it that this lady has a lot of money, so the earl is going to force her to marry him before anybody finds out. With all her money coming here, this place will look better than where you came from, laddie.”

Celia felt a knot growing in her throat, ready to suffocate her. But she had to get rid of the girl first.

“Get out of here, you scurvy daughter of a leprous harbor wench,” Celia said, half drawing her sword from its sheath. “My master will not need you or any other like you.”

The girl turned and fled the room in surprise at the suddenness of the squire's violent response.

Celia leaned heavily against the stone wall of the tower room before allowing her body to sag to the floor. This whole time her only concern had been to get Kit to safety. But she had never expected that what would be freedom for Kit would be a lifelong imprisonment for her. Getting Kit to Argyll and then waiting for Huntly had been the plan. But she knew Huntly would never be a party to anything like this.

Celia's back straightened where she sat. For all she knew, Argyll had drained the wealth and the lifeblood from one woman already. Celia was not about to become his second victim.



Before the door was completely open, Celia had rolled out the big bed, fully awake, her sword in hand. Melting into the dark shadows created by the partially drawn curtain of the bed and the flickering light of the brazier, Celia tried to focus on the huge shape coming through the door. She knew who it was before he even closed the door.

“Er...Jack. It's Colin,” he whispered into the darkness. “Do not cut my throat before my eyes adjust to this light.”

Celia smiled and stepped from the shadow.

Colin's heart skipped a beat. Even in the dim light of the brazier's flames, Celia was exquisite. She had rid herself of the boy's clothing that had revealed nothing of her femininity. Instead, she now was wearing his own shirt as a nightshift. He had never seen anything as homely as his own shirt transformed so completely with such exotic, alluring power.

She had washed off the dirt that had hidden the beauty of her face, and her eyes sparkled like black diamonds.

“What are you doing here?” Celia whispered, surprised that he had come back to her room.

“That's not my kind of party down there. But damn it, why did you have to wash up?” he growled. Colin had thought that he might be able to control his desires if she looked like Jack, but this was going to be pure torture.

“Wash up? Don't be ridiculous. I was filthy. Besides, I asked you what you're doing here. In this room!” she said. “I thought you were going to share Alec's room tonight.”

“I would much prefer sleeping with you than with Alec,” Colin joked as he moved away from the door and walked toward the bed. “Not to mention that Argyll walked us up here. It would have been very difficult to explain why my squire should get his own room while Alec and I shared a bunk.”

“But...this...we...is not proper at all,” she said, feeling shy, uncertain, and not a little bit self-conscious. The reality of the moment struck her with tremendous force. The day before Celia had been nearly willing to give herself completely to him. But now, with the sounds of some frenetic orgy wafting up the stairway, she was not at all ready to explore pleasures that she longed for, but which also frightened her. She gathered Colin's shirt tighter in front, but then released it, realizing that in pulling the shirt closer, her figure was more clearly defined.

“And I want my shirt back,” he said, moving to the opposite side of the bed from her.

Before she could even think of a response, he shouted in a stage whisper, “Now!”

“You cannot have it,” she shouted back in the same stage whisper. “I found it in your satchel. I was hoping to find some food, but this is what I found instead.”

“Too bad,” he said, removing his sword. “That means if there was food in there, you wouldn't be wearing anything.”

She scowled at him threateningly across the bed.

“Colin, you do not mean to sleep here in the same bed as I am. Do you?”

“Of course I do,” he responded. “You will not see any at Kildalton Castle, but Highland ticks are roughly the size of small dogs, and they'll suck every drop of blood out of a human body.”

Colin looked dramatically about him before continuing. “This scum bucket is probably infested with them.”

Before Colin was even done with his mild exaggerations, Celia had joined in the pretense, jumping into the middle of the bed with her bare feet tucked under, peering at the dark floor around the bed, her sword still in hand.

“Move over,” Colin ordered. “And get rid of that sword. You will not be needing it tonight.”

She squirmed to the opposite side of bed and leaned the short sword against it. As she moved, Celia continued to watch his every move.

Colin sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her and removed his boots. Without standing he pulled his shirt over his head.

Celia looked wide-eyed at his broad, magnificent back, his contoured muscles, at the jagged scar that ran from the outside of his right shoulder to the center of his back...

“Stop looking at me like that, or I'll...” he said threateningly.

Celia flushed with embarrassment at being discovered.

“I wasn't looking at you,” she said hurriedly. But at the same time, her hand went out to touch his back. With her fingers, she lightly traced the scar from shoulder to backbone. “How did you get this?”

Colin sat bolt upright as her fingers sent shock waves of intense pleasure through his frame.

“Our host,” Colin said through clenched teeth.

“Argyll?” Celia asked. “How?”

“Every year, the clans gather for games...to compete,” Colin replied. “When I was fourteen, I wrestled for the first time as a man. Argyll was in his prime then. I beat him, but afterward, he attacked me with his sword, claiming that in my boasting, I'd offended his honor.”

“Did you?” she asked, feeling again the wide band of white that could have meant his death.

Colin half turned. “Of course I did. I was fourteen.”

He gazed at her, his desire growing with every moment that her fingers lingered on his skin. Her face was so pensive as she looked at the old injury. The V-shaped neckline of the shirt hung away from her body as she leaned forward on the bed, and what Colin could not see in the darkness of the room was enhanced by his own vivid imagination.

But he did catch sight of a large, circular medallion hanging from a chain. In the dim light, all he could make out of the medallion was a triangle of black stones, one larger than the other two. But it was not Celia's jewelry that interested Colin.

As he turned completely to face her, Celia's hand snapped back as if she'd been burned. She moved quickly back to her side of the bed, folding her hands in her lap and lowering her eyes.

“Celia,” Colin said in a husky voice. “I do not want you to stop touching me. But more than anything else right now, I want to hold you, to kiss you, to feel the softness of your skin, to discover a part of you that I long for. I want to make love to you.”

Celia felt herself stop breathing. A sensation of intense heat raced through her, set her ablaze. Colin's words alone were making her body flame with desire. But she was unsure of the surge of feelings that were taking over her physical being. These were feelings as yet unfamiliar. Her life had been so...self-contained...for so long.

And the place where they were kept pushing itself back into her consciousness. The earl of Argyll's seedy winter lodging was not the place where she wanted to make love to Colin Campbell for the first time.

She just sat there at a loss for words. She didn't know how to make him understand. She wanted him, but not now, not here. And suddenly her worries about this place and about Argyll's plan for her paled in comparison to the apprehension she felt right now about the act of making love.