A few men visited her regularly each week, and she would let them know she had to see to The MacKillop’s uncle during his visit. His honored position because of his connections would give him the exclusive right to her if he so desired, and he had asked for her during each of his visits here. That smile grew wider as she watched Rob nod and grunt something in reply before he turned and walked down her path towards the keep.
Iain was a handsome man, almost a score of years older than her own age, but as fit as a warrior could be. The man still held a position of authority and respect in the clan that was now led by his nephew. And he was a friend and mentor to Robbie. Neither his position nor his friendship made her feel the way she did about the man himself.
Robena closed the door and leaned against it, accepting the rush of heat that even the thought of Iain caused. Days and nights of passion lay ahead of her, and not even the fact that it should be an arrangement of business only could take away the knowledge that she wanted him. She wanted him there with her. She wanted to see and touch him.
She wanted Iain MacKillop more than ’twas good for a whore like her to want any man. It could not lead to anything good.
So, over the next days and nights, as she plied her trade with the men of Dunnedin, she tried not to pretend they were him. She tried to convince herself that she wanted him to arrive simply because she would be paid well, in gold, for his visits to her. Robena tried to keep the desire she felt for the man with the kind blue eyes and soft caresses under control.
She was a whore, and he was not for her. He could never be. She must learn to accept only what he gave her in exchange forher services. The uncle of the wealthy and powerful MacKillop Clan would never consider her worthy of anything more than the coin spent for her attentions.
She was a whore, and he was not for her.
2
Iain accepted more ale from the passing servant and watched as Rob leaned in and whispered something to Anice. From the lady’s blush, he comprehended the nature of Rob’s comment to his wife. That his friend had found such happiness from such unhappy beginnings warmed Iain’s heart. Even now, Rob was raising his half-brother’s son as though the boy were his own, and it had brought out the best in a man raised without a father. From a few subtle signs that he recognized between them now, Iain suspected that an announcement about a new arrival would be coming soon.
As he inhaled the scent of the evergreens decorating the windows and hearth and other strategic places around the hall, Iain found himself reminded of the coming holyday and the celebrations planned for the end of the year. Anice’s hall would glow with the light of many candles and lanterns when the dark of winter ruled outside. Each day the servants and the lady would add a few more sprigs of mistletoe and other greens to brighten the shadows. Though most of the feasting would wait until Twelfth Night, there would be enough spread over the next weeks and month for everyone to enjoy.
Glancing at the center chair at the table, he saw Struan MacKendimen also watching the pair, and wondered what the older man thought of the way things had gone. Struan had sent his natural son Rob away, to Iain’s brother at Dunbarton, to keep his identity a secret from his clan and especially from the man Struan had cuckolded. But when Rob had returned here four years ago and saved Anice’s and her son’s lives, ’twas only a matter of time before their secrets were laid bare before all.
Soon, the lady excused herself from the table, and Rob moved to his side then. An attentive servant filled their cups and stepped away. Iain waited for the teasing to commence, for he was certain that his searching of the hall had been noticed by his friend. He could not seem to stem the growing sense of anticipation with each passing hour.
“She is not here,” Rob said. “As ye already ken.” Iain nodded and drank from the cup. “She refused my invitation.” Iain drank again at his friend’s words. “As ye also kenned she would.”
“’Tis her way,” he said.
“Iain, Anice has made her welcome here.”
“More than most ladies would,” Iain admitted. Most ladies would have had the village whore beaten or punished for trying to enter their hall. But here, the lady had befriended her. Iain knew part of their story, and Rob was at the center. He suspected that there was more he was not privy to about the matter.
“She likes ye, Iain. Have a care there, my friend.”
The softly made declaration by Rob signified much to Iain. His friend had been not only friends with Robena, but also lovers at one time. When he had planned to leave Dunnedin and return to Dunbarton, Rob had asked Robena to accompany him . . . and to marry him. The offer, one made to give her the possibility of a new and different life, had been rejected long before Anice and Rob had overcome their challenges and the opposition of Struan MacKendimen. Still, though, in Iain’s opinion, borne of manyyears of observing his friend, Rob continued a friendship with Robena that was unlike any Iain had witnessed before. So, Iain did not dismiss the warning in his words, either.
“It may surprise ye, but I like the lass,” he answered back.
An exhalation was Rob’s reply. His friend had not expected Iain’s words and, candidly, he’d surprised himself by uttering them. They held a simple truth within them. He did like Robena. More than liked, he suspected, but he did not care to explain it to anyone. He would never hurt her.
He would have a care.
“Then why are ye still sitting here, man!” Rob said, smacking him on his back. “She waits for ye and the gates will close for the night soon. Make yer escape now.”
Iain laughed loudly at Rob’s permission to leave. He swallowed the remaining ale down in two mouthfuls before he stood. Why bother denying it? He wanted her. He wanted to see her. He wanted to possess her and to pleasure her. His cock rose then. His body understood what was coming.
He tried to pace himself as he strode through the hall towards the door. Rob’s boisterous laughter from the dais where he remained revealed his failure to do that. What would his friend think if he learned that Iain had made certain his horse was saddled just outside?
The guards waved him out and Iain followed the main road down from the keep into the village. Robena’s cottage was near the other side of it, not far from the edge of Dunnedin. He urged the horse on as he saw the last turn ahead and soon he reached it, jumping to the ground before the horse had actually stopped.
The modest cottage appeared much as the others along this path did. A low fence surrounded it and Iain noticed the rope thrown over the gate—a signal that Robena was either engaged or out. If she was waiting for him, as Rob had said, then that rope was telling others to stay away. Iain led his horse around to theback and tied it there. He wanted to laugh as he walked to the door and raised his hand to knock, for he could feel the nervous anticipation growing.
Part of him, the very-hard cockstand beneath his plaid, needed him to barge in and take her until she could take no more. Part wanted to control the barbarian inside of him and allow some time to talk with her and reacquaint themselves to each other. Yet another part of him was completely and utterly confused over what to do. When the door opened, he gave up any hope of restraint and his expression must have shown it.
“I have been waiting for ye, laddie,” Robena whispered as she reached out to him. Her smile was warm and welcoming as she grabbed hold of his cloak and pulled him closer, kissing him. He decided on his course as she opened her mouth to his tongue.
Iain wrapped his arms around her and savored the feel of her against him for a scant moment before backing her inside the cottage and kicking the door shut with his foot. She laughed against his mouth without ending the kiss. Somehow, she tugged his cloak off, loosened his belt—which allowed his plaid to drop to the floor—and had her hands under his shirt, on his skin, before they reached the pallet.
For a frantic moment, he drew away from her as he pulled the shirt over his head and she loosened the ties on her gown. Iain watched the fabric slide over her ample breasts and down over her curving hips, revealing the dark thatch of hair between her legs. He reached out to touch her there, sliding two impatient fingers deep within as she arched against them. His gaze never moved from hers and Iain felt his cock harden even more as the wetness covered his fingers.
