Chapter Seventeen
Laila was hurrying through the halls of the keep, trying to get her thoughts together as she rushed toward Kyle’s chambers. She felt a complete frantic mess, distraught on all levels. Everything seemed to be unraveling around her, and she couldn’t keep holding all the pieces. Something had to give, and she knew it was her. She had to escape. McGowan castle had hidden her as long as it could.
How foolish had she been, anyways? To think she could hide so close to home was ridiculous; of course, Lord Hamilton would send men to find her, and of course, they would come to McGowan castle. She had been so busy getting tangled up with Kyle and her turbulent emotions that she had neglected her own safety, and by extension, her family. If Lord Hamilton knew she had hidden from him, no doubt he would exact revenge on her family.
She turned a corner in the keep and began rushing up the stone stairs, gathering up her skirts as she climbed, trying to reach Kyle’s chambers as fast as possible. At least there, she knew she could hide a bit longer, at least until the knights had gone, but then where would she go? What was left? She still had the money from Jacob hidden away, but how far would that get her? In truth, she knew very little about traveling and the associated costs.
She reached Kyle’s floor and stepped out into the corridor, only to come face to face with another servant. “Oh!” Laila exclaimed. “You startled me, pardon,” and she moved to walk around the servant girl.
“Lady Laila,” the girl said, and Laila stopped in her tracks, feeling a cold panic grab hold of her heart. She had not been called lady since she had left Willby, and the connotation terrified her.
“I’m not a lady,” Laila said back sheepishly, trying to compose herself.
“I have a message from Sir Simon,” the girl said feebly, squirming in her own shoes. Laila felt terrible for her, clearly caught in the middle of a situation she did not understand whatsoever. She tucked her hand into her apron, pulled out a small piece of parchment, and handed it to Laila with a shaking hand. Laila took it, her heart filled with dread, and the servant girl slunk away as fast as she could.
Laila looked down at the small scroll, frozen in place at the sight of it. It was all her worst fears come to pass. She had not been quick enough, not been smart enough, and now she was found. Slowly she picked open the scroll and gazed down at the scribbled writing.
Lord Hamilton will be waiting at the inn along the East Road. Do not run again, or your family will suffer the consequences. Lord Hamilton will punish these Scots in ways you cannot imagine if you hide in those walls.
Laila wanted to cry, and to scream, and to pound her hands bloody against the walls. How could she have been so foolish? So careless? Even if there was nothing she could do to change what had occurred, she still felt as if it were all her fault. Everything was undone, and she felt worthless, like a hindrance upon the whole of the world. Lord Hamilton had come for her, and he meant to have her, and there was seemingly nothing she could do about it. That shred of agency she had built by fleeing was being ripped away, and it was devastating.
She continued down the corridor in a daze, dragging her feet with each step, watching Kyle’s door drawing closer but feeling like it was further away. She bit down on her own lip to keep herself from crying as she reached his door.
She pushed it open, only to find the chamber empty, and once more, her heart sank. The logical side of her brain told her that was for the better. She had not planned on getting caught up in this whirlwind of a romance or whatever it was she was doing with Kyle, and to see him would only make leaving more difficult. She knew she could not place him or her family in danger any longer and that she would have to go to Lord Hamilton.
But the other half of her was devastated. She wanted only to hold him close, cry into his chest, and tell him everything, but he was not there, and she knew it was unlikely she would ever see him again. She leaned up against the wall, crumpling the parchment in her fist as she tried to get a hold of herself. There was nothing to be done. It was all over.
Laila took a few deep breaths and straightened out her skirt with her free hand. She felt a flush and wiped away the moisture on her eyes that were threatening tears. It was time to go. She slowly got her back up off the wall and stepped toward the door when Kyle appeared.
His face was bright and full of life, and he was standing tall with pride and excitement, and the sight of her he seemed to light up with a terrific glow. It nearly destroyed her.
“Laila!” he exclaimed, taking one step into the room. “I was just—”
She couldn’t let him finish. She was too tormented by the circumstances of the day, and by his radiant happiness, and by her own conflicted emotional state, and by her deep desire to hold him and think of nothing else.
She lunged forward and kissed him hard, wrapping her hands up around his neck in a blinding passion, and he seized her close, his strong hands clamping down upon her waist and back, and she surrendered her overwhelmed being to the heat of his body and the sensation of his lips.
They stumbled backward, and Kyle kicked out behind him, sending the door clanking shut as their hands worked over one another, and their tongues danced circles while they gasped for air between clashes.
“We should stop,” Kyle murmured between kisses, his hands working over the creases in her back. Laila reached into his tunic and ran her fingers across his strong torso, fingering the etches in his abdomen.
“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered back, and with that, their fate was sealed.
They went at each other like a wildfire spreading through dry tinder, clawing fast at each other’s many layers of clothes, wrestling up against each other to feel the other faster and fuller, stumbling backward and tipping back onto the edge of the bed, writhing with passion and lust, discovering love.
She felt him up against her, throbbing and hot and rigid. She never wanted anything more, thrusting her hand up against his britches, grabbing hold of him through the fabric, feeling the pulsing heat of his excitement in her palm as his hands tore open her blouse and her breasts came free. His fingers wrapped around the crest of her nipples while their tongues continued to spar.
It was a blinding passion like she had never felt. With her other hand, she pried at his clothes, ripping them down, taking hold of him in earnest, and shivering at the sound of his pleasure as he kissed the nape of her neck, enflaming her further, heating her and driving her onward as he undid the last of the ties on the waistcoat, exposing her naked skin. She reached up to pull away his tunic, already undone in their first frantic collision.
She guided him as the last of her clothes came away, rubbing up and down as she steered, and felt him reach the gates, and with one mighty thrust he entered; she bit down on his chiseled shoulder as she erupted, her legs wrapping around his as his movements became rhythmic and deep, stretching, and euphoric, synchronized ecstasy that left both of them blind to the entire world. There was only them, there and then, and they ravaged each other.
The thrusts grew faster, firmer, stronger, and she gasped for air as she lost her mind to the movements, digging her nails into the steel plates that were his shoulder blades and clamping her teeth down on his chest as he moved faster and faster, groaning out with unfiltered joy.
Her vision was blurring, as if her eyes were fogging up like a window pane, as she felt herself closer and closer to a breaking point, squirming and writhing in pleasure beneath and around his titanic form until it arrived, and her entire body seized in uncontrollable movements, gyrating so that the two lost their footing on the edge of the bed, and tumbled down to the floor, landing on the sheepskin rug at the foot of the bed, parting for just a moment, but Laila wanted more, and pressing his shoulders down against the rug she climbed atop him, guiding him once more, and let out a cry as she came down around him.
She could barely see, as if her body was neglecting the eyes in favor of other things as she began to move, driving downward onto him, hearing his groans and running her hands across his stiff chest, letting out cries of unknowable feeling as she drove at him, feeling the power of her position and his response, and feeling him deeper than before, driving her again toward a sensation she could never have imagined.
He was growing louder, and louder, and she was growing more incoherent as the speed and intensity rose and rose, and she felt him go tight through every muscle, and his hands clamped down on her waist like a vice grip, and he quivered with a loud moan as she felt him erupt within, sparking her own, and the two coupled in a fierce lock as their bodies shook and relaxed ever so slowly.
But neither wanted it to be over. He began to stand, and taking her by the rear, he carried her without withdrawing back to the bed, where the collapsed once more. Briefly, she felt him slimming, but then he was growing again, and she bit down again on his shoulder as they began once more, taking each other with such vigor that the frame of the bed threatened the crack beneath their drives until he erupted once more, and she lost herself to every inch of him.
When it was finally done, they separated and collapsed beside one another on the bed, now misshapen and warped. They both heaved for breath and were powerless to utter a word, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of their lovemaking. Their hands intertwined atop his chest, their fingers gently stroking the others, and within minutes, they fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.
Laila woke perhaps an hour later and turned her head to look at Kyle, deep in sleep. Immediately she felt tears springing up in her eyes, for she wanted nothing but to stay there with him forever, but she had come to say goodbye. She shoved her knuckle into her mouth and clamped down, trying to stop the tears and trying not to wake him.
She steeled herself to her resolve, wiped her eyes, and gently rose from the bed. She donned her clothes, tying them up the best she could to hide the tear in the bosom, and went to the table by the hearth. There she took a piece of parchment and the inkwell that sat idle and scrolled a short note, holding in her turbulent tears all the while.
When she was finished, she looked back at Kyle, sleeping peaceably in the bed, and felt her heart crack in two. Before she could linger on it or change her mind, she forced herself out of the chamber, gently shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. She had to flee.
