Page 15 of Tempted
Tina’s golden eyes watched the beautiful curve of the man’s mouth soften as he looked at her. She was momentarily mesmerized by his penetrating pewter gaze, and she sat absolutely still while his strong hands reached out to touch her body. He was checking her for broken bones, but suddenly she realized his hands were lingering upon her as if he were deliberately caressing her! Did he think her some groom’s daughter he could tumble? She wanted to cry out that she was Lady Valentina Kennedy, but of course she could not. She had allowed men to kiss her before, but none had ever dared take the liberty of touching her body intimately as this bold devil had just done. His hands still lingered on her shoulders. She jerked away from him. “Don’t!”
Colin came limping up and gave his cousins a black look. “Mistress, forgive these rough men. Yer soaked tae the skin. Allow me tae offer ye a private chamber wi’ a bed and a fire where ye mun rest an’ recover.”
“Th-thank you,” she said in a bewildered voice. She stood up, and indeed her knees were like butter. She swayed, and three pairs of Douglas arms reached for her. Ram was quicker than Gavin or Cameron, and he swept her high in his arms, gently enfolding her body against his hard-muscled chest. Her golden eyes were bright with tears and apprehension, her tempting, generous mouth inches from his own. Suddenly he was handling her much more gently than when he had carried her in from the rain.
Colin led the way, his crippled leg echoing oddly across the stone floor. Gavin followed.
Tina felt panic rise within her If only one of the younger, less dangerous men had picked her up, she would be able to think coherently. She knew instinctively she would have a much easier time cozening them.
Ram’s deep voice spoke intimately to her as they climbed the rough stone stairway. “When ye recall yer identity, sweetheart, send for me. If ye are no’ known tae be a friend, perhaps yer a foe,” he teased and gave her an audacious wink. He stopped at his own chamber door and handed her over to Gavin’s waiting arms. “I’ll change my wet clothes and look forward tae seeing more of ye later.” His words were accompanied by a devilish leer as his pewter eyes dipped to her wet breasts—she could not mistake the double entendre.
Tina trembled in Gavin’s arms, and he felt oddly protective of her. She was grateful to be relieved of that other one’s presence. He was more swarthy than any Gypsy. His pewter eyes had had an arrogant gleam, his mouth a reckless slant that intensified his magnetism, yet everything about him was dangerously dark and hard and threatening.
“Who are you—and where am I?” Tina whispered, knowing he would be putty in her hands.
“I’m Gavin Douglas, and this older man is ma cousin Colin.” The handsome devil grinned down at her.
Colin reprimanded his levity. “Stow yer foolishness, Gavin. The lass has injured her haid. This place is Douglas, mistress. Just north of the border country atween England and the cities o’ Glasgow and Edinburgh.” The rough stone passageway was cold, and she shivered uncontrollably in Gavin’s arms. “I’ll soon ha’ ye out o’ yer soakin’ gown, lass,” he said, grinning.
“Hoots, Gavin, ye’ve no’ the brains ye were born wi’ Can ye no’ see she’s a lady? She must be frightened witless tae waken in the clutches o’ Black Ram Douglas.”
Tina jerked and stiffened. My God, that had been the infamous Black Ram!
They entered a most elegantly appointed chamber, one that had been decorated with the sure hand of a gentlewoman with taste and breeding. A cat that was curled in a chair awoke with a start and ran beneath it.
Gavin reluctantly put her down on the edge of the wide bed, and Colin limped over to a clothespress and brought her towels and a warm plaid.
A deep voice from the doorway said, “Don’t stand there grinning like a gargoyle—the lass will think she’s in a madhouse. Order a servant tae build a fire so she can get warm and have a rest.”
Something inside Tina responded to that deep voice. His eyes told her that he found her special. As Gavin moved to the door, the tone of Ram Douglas’s voice changed. “Ye can show me this prisoner ye took.”
Colin said with disgust, “He’s a bairn—wi’ down on his cheeks.”
“Then it should be child’s play tae break him,” Ram said.
Fury almost choked Valentina. She loathed herself for responding momentarily to his animal attraction. The cruel bastard had one count against him for throwing her over his saddle like a sack of grain. Two counts against him for invading her body with his filthy hands. But in the moment he’d spoken of breaking her wee brother Davie, a deep hatred for the man had been born. It was a personal hatred, spawning a personal vendetta. If one hair on Davie’s head were harmed, she would settle the score with Black Ram Douglas if it was the last thing she ever did in this lifetime.
Chapter 5
The servants departed after building her a fire, and a moment later she stripped off her woolen gown and wet underclothes and hung them over the foot of the bed to dry She concealed the knife from her boot under the mattress and took up a large linen towel to dry her long red tresses. She noted that the towel was finely woven from the best flax and embroidered with an elaborate letter D. She tested the quality of the Douglas plaid between her thumb and forefinger and felt an overwhelming distaste for the tartan’s dark greens and blues. Her pride forbade her to wrap herself in its warmth until she heard a knock upon her chamber door. Then without thinking, she grabbed the finely woven length of woolen cloth and wrapped it about herself like a cloak.
Colin Douglas entered, balancing a tray upon his stiff, almost useless arm. “Let me help you,” she offered as a rush of sympathy swept over her. This man was not nearly so dark as the others. He had a square, honest, clean-cut face, and his manners set him apart as being more civilized. She was curious to know what had ruined his once-magnificent physique, but she had more breeding and sensitivity than to even stare at him.
“I’ve brought ye some broth an’ bread. ‘Tis rough fare, unfit fer a lady, but we’re a household o’ men without womenfolk, save fer servin’ and kitchen wenches.”
“Thank you. It smells good,” she offered. “If there are no women here, whose chamber is this? The lady in the portrait?” she asked, indicating a painting above the fireplace.
“My brother Alexander’s bride, Damaris. She’s deceased,” he said shortly, and limped toward the door.
Tina almost choked on her broth. “Don’t burn yerself,” he warned before he closed the heavy door.
Tina sprang up to examine the lovely face in the portrait. Her fingers reached up to trace the fine lace of what must have been her wedding gown. “Aunt Damaris,” she whispered, “how unearthly fair you were.” A lump came into her throat as she noticed how young and innocent the girl must have been.
From a shadowed corner of the room, the spirit of Damaris focused on the young woman with flaming hair and whispered, “Sweet Mary, you must be my niece, Valentina Kennedy!” She hovered between Tina and her own portrait, more agitated than she had been for fifteen years. “Begone! Begone from this place,” she cried, then she was filled with a great sadness because she knew she could not communicate with the living, breathing Valentina.
“What did the degenerate Douglas do to you?” asked Tina, overwhelmed with pity.
“Don’t you know Alexander poisoned me? My own husband whom I loved more than life? He accused me of lying with his brother Colin. He struck me.” Damaris’s hand went up to her cheek, still feeling the blow after fifteen long years.
