“You're playing with fire, woman,” he said, his voice ragged with passion.
She smiled down at him, continuing her amorous play. She knew what was coming, and for the first time in her life, she sought it out.
She was driving Colin insane, and he loved it. But he was also rapidly losing control. The roar in his head was blocking out all other sounds. Her auburn hair hung loosely around their faces. His fingers moved over the skin of her back, over the smooth rise of her buttocks, to the toned flesh of her thighs. Her hips moved as he touched her, as she kissed him. He wanted to be inside her...now. Deep inside her.
With a shrug of his massive frame, Colin rolled her onto her back, covering her completely with his body. Taking hold of her hands, he pulled them above her head, pinning them there. He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with desire.
Celia heard the voices on the landing outside the door, and turned her head toward the noise. Colin seemed oblivious to the disturbance outside.
“Colin!” she whispered urgently. “Colin! Listen!”
Colin's eyes cleared instantly as the voices penetrated. Emmet's voice was the loudest, and although he did not sound threatened, he was obviously trying to alert his master to the presence of intruders. He released her hands and reached across the bed for his sword. Pulling back, he felt Celia, freed of his weight, propelling herself to the top of the bed. Glancing at her, he realized that she already had her short sword in her hand.
They listened to the voices a moment and heard Alec's join in.
“It's that damned Argyll,” Colin muttered, relaxing his guard. “He was all too agreeable in our discussions last night, and here he is bright and early with a scribe from the abbey, no doubt. He's awfully eager to get rid of us, for some reason.”
Celia edged off the bed. If she could help it, she would not let her identity be discovered.
Colin reached over, grasping her wrist and pulling her back toward the bed. “I want you, Celia.”
“We cannot, Colin. Argyll!” she whispered, looking worriedly at the door.
“The hell with Argyll!” he said, smiling at her concern.
“But the door!” she insisted. “There's no bar on the door!”
“I know, love,” he answered, caressing her cheek. “But our moment will come.”
Turning to the door, Colin shouted roughly, “I'll be only a moment.” Celia listened as the voices subsided on the landing.
Releasing her, Colin reached down for his sword belt. As he straightened up, he saw Celia's back as she stripped the shirt over her head. Her soft curves, the milky skin, the beautiful legs that seemed to go on forever. Colin paused momentarily in rapt admiration as Celia quickly dressed in the squire's clothes that she'd worn the day before.
Colin threw on his clothes and buckled on his sheathed sword. Moving around the bed to her, he drew her to him as she was pulling on the oversized hat that covered so much of her beauty.
“We'll be home tonight,” he said softly, drawing her lips to his. “But for today, you stay close to Emmet. I'll get you to the abbey when I've finished this business with Argyll.”
Celia nodded, lifting her mouth to his again.
In Argyll's Great Hall there was no sign of the previous night's revels. Celia had followed Emmet down the stone stairwell a few moments after Colin and was sitting among the Campbell fighters, finishing the morning meal. A middle-aged cleric, dressed in a brown woolen gown edged in fur, sat at the dais table with Colin, Alec, and Argyll, silently listening to the increasingly hostile discussion and nervously fingering the beads looped through the silk cord at his waste. Argyll must have sent for the Abbot himself, Celia thought. Watching the faces of the men, she could see Colin's cool, fiercely controlled look as he continued to make demands of the earl. Argyll himself was growing more and more agitated, until, abruptly, he stood angrily at his place, looking around at the large number of people watching the leaders attentively.
Leaning over the table, Argyll said something in a low voice and turned on his heel, striding toward the stone stairwell on the opposite side of the hall. The Abbot followed immediately, but Colin spoke into Alec's ear before following. Alec walked directly to Celia and Emmet and leaned down between them.
“We're going up to Argyll's chambers to write up and sign the documents,” Alec said seriously, gesturing toward the doorway through which Argyll had disappeared. “Keep an eye on things, Emmet.”
Alec turned as if giving an order to the `squire' sitting beside Emmet. “You look mighty pretty today, Jack,” he whispered in a voice that was barely audible. “Without all that dirt on your face.”
Celia barely held back the urge to put her hand to her face. She'd forgotten to cover her features with dirt, finishing the disguise. She lowered her gaze, and as Alec walked across the hall, Celia pulled her hat even lower over her eyes.
“Argyll must be a bit miffed by the punitive conditions that Lord Colin wants written into this agreement,” Emmet said in a low voice.
“Punitive?” Celia asked. I can think of some particularly appropriate punishments for the earl of Argyll right about now, she thought. Forcing me to marry him...I'll kill him first.
“Payment that will be exacted if Argyll doesn't live up to his bargain,” Emmet answered.
“What bargain is that, Emmet?” Celia asked, suddenly very curious about this deal between Colin and Argyll.
“About backing the Stewart's crown prince, m'lady. I mean…Jack,” Emmet stumbled.
A sense of relief rushed through Celia's body. She should have figured that by now. After seeing, hearing, experiencing what Colin Campbell was all about, she should have known that Colin didn't need a request from anyone to do what was right for Scotland. Colin, protecting, backing the Stewart prince, she thought happily. But Colin had said that Argyll was not to be trusted. What did he think Argyll's position would be?
“Colin is trying to drum up Argyll's support?” Celia asked. “I thought Argyll was devoted to the Stewart cause. After all, he is related to the Crown.”
“Was...he was related when his poor wife was alive,” Emmet said as his eyes surveyed the room. “You have a Lowlander's view of Argyll. He has them all fooled down there. We see him as he is out here.”
“Please, Emmet, tell me.” She was deeply interested to hear what Runt's brother had to say. “What is it that you know about him out here?”
“I know that nobody out here would spit on him if he were on fire. You talked about devotion. The earl of Argyll is only devoted to himself...nobody else. He has no loyalties, no honor. When he does anything at all, he only does it in a wolf pack. He has no guts of his own. When he was at Dunvegan Castle with the other clan chiefs, he sided with those against Lord Colin, but quietly, as I hear it. Last night, though, he didn't even give as much as an argument. I tell you he is not trusted in the Highlands, and with good reason. Even his own people dislike him.”
“Then how could he count on his people? I mean in times of danger...for protection?”
“He buys them,” he said, looking around at the filth in the hall. “Not all of them, but enough, I suppose. Still, it costs a lot of gold to buy that kind of loyalty. You knew he married rich once before. He had to...his crofters will not work the farms the way they should. Knowing him, he'll do it again. Marrying rich, I mean. I already feel sorry for the poor woman.”
It will not be me, Celia thought. If he got his hands on her, he'd never believe anything she told him. She shuddered to think what would happen once Argyll found out her fortune was all tied up in the Tudor king's promise to marry her to that English murderer. She wondered how long she'd live under the thumb of a man like Argyll. And that murderous English devil, she thought. Where was he now? Would he ever leave off his pursuit of her and Kit? A concern to her, but not her most immediate worry. Argyll's loyalty was the question. Could he be so clever as to fool even Huntly?
Suddenly Celia had the sense that eyes were upon her. Looking up from under her hat, she saw a man at a table across the room staring at her. Their gazes locked for a moment before he turned away, but not before Celia noticed a spark of recognition in the man’s eyes. Celia flushed with a momentary fear that her disguise had failed, but this emotion quickly gave way to the feeling that she too had a recollection of seeing that man somewhere before. His clothes were those of a Highlander, his face was bearded and ferret-like. There was nothing that she could see that would make him distinctive, but she still felt she'd seen him before.
Celia snapped her head around at a commotion behind her. A large group of Argyll's men had converged around someone.
“You'll come with us, priest,” rasped a harsh voice.
“For what reason do you lay your hands on a man of God?” responded a voice that Celia recognized immediately.
Her hand went to Emmet's elbow. “Emmet, you've got to stop them.”
Emmet looked down at her questioningly.
“That voice. It's my friend Father William,” she whispered urgently. “He's the one I came here to see.”
Emmet stood and took a step toward the group. The benches beside Celia cleared of Campbell fighters.
“What do you want with this priest?” Emmet demanded in a loud voice.
The soldiers turned toward the Campbell warrior and his men.