Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(103)
Duncan breathed easier once they left the coast of Knapdale behind them and entered the open sound, safe on one of his brother's birlinns. It was a small party—better to avoid too much attention—just Duncan, his men, and a handful of the loyal Gordon guardsmen. And Jeannie.
He'd been fooling himself to think he could leave without her. It wasn't the danger—she was right, the sea was probably the safest place for him—but if anything went wrong, he didn't want her to see him captured. But would hearing of it later be any better? Probably not.
Like it or not, she was involved. He couldn't turn her away now. Not when he wasn't sure how much time they had left. For purely selfish reasons, he liked having her with him. If he had his way they would never be apart again.
More than once he'd thought of asking her to run away with him. To leave Scotland and the noose poised over his head. He had wealth enough to last for a dozen lifetimes. Perhaps if it had been just the two of them, he would. But she had her children and he could not ask her to deprive them of their future.
He was done hiding. He wasn't alone anymore. It was time to face the charges against him and hope that justice would be done.
Duncan kept a close eye on the coast falling away behind them while the Norseman Leif, holding true to his seafaring heritage, sailed them across the sea. Their departure would hold the most danger—if anyone was watching Castleswene, they would attempt to follow. So far, however, they appeared to be alone except for the occasional fishing boat.
The sky wasn't exactly blue, but the soft gray was about as much as they could hope for on a cold December morn. Away from the buffer of land, however, the wind held quite a nasty bite.
Keeping one eye on the water behind them, he took the seat behind Jeannie who had bundled herself up to her nose in plaids. It was a stark contrast to the way he'd left her this morning, her naked limbs tangled in the bedsheets and red-gold hair spilled across the pillow.
He'd suffered well for his wee trick—very well. She'd tortured him for hours. First with her words, whispering all the wicked things she was going to do to him, then with her hands, and finally with her mouth and tongue.
He hardened at the visceral memory of her teasing. How she'd refused to allow him to touch her as she brushed her tight ni**les across his chest, across his mouth, across his turgid cock. As her smooth, silky skin slid against his. How her tongue had circled the heavy head of his erection, traveled the long length licking, flicking, and circling until he'd been forced to grab the mattress to keep from surging into her mouth. How when she'd finally taken him between her warm, moist lips he'd almost come. And then how she'd milked him in her mouth, caressed his bollocks in her soft hands, and forced him over the edge.
He would submit to her punishment any time. But as demanding as she'd been in bed, she'd been unusually quiet afterward—quiet that had extended into the morning. He attributed it to concern over their journey and the precarious state of his freedom, but he wondered if it was something else entirely.
She'd seemed so excited about the trip before. “Is something bothering you, Jeannie?”
The question startled her from her reverie and her eyes quickly shaded. She shook her head a little too vehemently. The wool slipped from around her mouth, revealing a bright smile. “Nay. ‘Tis cold, that's all. How much longer?”
Duncan was not fooled. She's hiding something from me. He hoped she would confide in him, but he would not force her. “Another two hours or so, if the wind stays the same. We should be docked at Leodamas before noon. I'll send word requesting an audience with my …” he couldn't quite get the word out, “the nurse as soon as we arrive. With any luck we can see her this afternoon and only be forced to stay one night on the island.” He took another glance behind them, scanning the waves and seeing nothing, before turning back to her. “I don't know how long Jamie and Lizzie will be at Inveraray, but I'd just as soon be at Castleswene waiting for them when they return.”
Jeannie tilted her head a little to look at him. “We are docking at Leod's Harbor? I assumed we'd stay at the castle for the night.”
He shook his head. “I'd rather not avail myself of MacDonald's hospitality any longer than necessary. In fact, I hope to avoid the chief entirely.”
“You think he will recognize you?”
Duncan nodded grimly. “Aye. My brother Jamie is well known to MacDonald—the chief also knew my father.” Though not engaged in a blood feud at the moment, relations between the Campbells and MacDonalds were always uneasy.
Her eyes widened. “I didn't realize …”
“There's nothing to worry about. Even if we do run into him, he'll not break the bond of hospitality by holding me. If he sends word, we'll be gone before anyone can arrive.” He grinned. “I'm afraid it means you'll spend the night in a rustic alehouse or inn and not in the luxury of Dunyvaig.”
Jeannie returned his smile. “I've done so before.”
“I remember.”
Their eyes held for a moment. Surprisingly, the memory no longer held pain for him. Further conversation was forestalled however, by the glimpse of a sail behind them. It turned out to be nothing, but by the time they'd made sure, the wind had changed, requiring Duncan to take his turn at the oars.
As promised, two hours later they sailed into the small harbor. Once they'd secured the boat, Duncan set two of Jeanie's guardsmen to the castle with the note from Jeannie requesting an audience with the old nursemaid—he didn't even know his mother's name. The rest of them located the nearest inn. Fortunately, the inn keeper was also a decent cook and they'd just finished a hearty bowl of beef stew with a hunk of the local cheese and barley bread when the guardsmen returned with their reply.