“Ye kept asking about a letter when I first arrived here. Do ye know what the letter reads? Why ‘tis so important?”
Reade breathed against her, a steady, measured breath, not one of anger or frustration, but contemplation. Oh, how their circumstances had changed!
“That the king may not have claim to the throne,” Reade answered in a steady voice. His hands moved over her back, rubbing it lightly and making her skin pop with goose pimples. “’Twould contest William’s claim and permit James to reclaim his throne without a war.” He lifted his bright, serene eyes to her. “I know what ye’ve said before, but are ye certain ye never saw any sort of letter like that? Gordon never said anything to suggest he had a letter?”
Blair shook her head. “Nay. And if he did have anything of import, he would no’ have told me. He would have kept it locked away in his box.”
Reade’s head snapped up, and he sat up straight. “His box?”
“Aye. A wooden reddish box with a rusty lock. Mayhap yea big.” She held her hands two feet apart. “It bore his initials. He kept it in his study, so I presumed your men or Lamont had found the box already, without the letter inside. Your men were removing everything from the manse. I saw them.”
Reade licked his lips, and a shiver coursed down her spine. Had they not found the box she spoke of?
“Would this letter be in this box?”
Blair swallowed. “I only presume ‘twould be. He carried the box everywhere, put his important things inside. I saw him with it before he was killed by the Campbells.”
Reade’s hand tightened on hers. “I dinna recall Father commenting on such a box. Did ye see where Mungo put it in his study?”
“Nay. ‘Tis why I asked. When I saw him with it, he was leaving the manse. I dinna ken where he went. I assumed your men found it and no letter was within, which was why ye were asking me.”
He dropped his forehead against her chest. When he spoke, his voice was muffled against her bodice. “So even if he did manage to acquire the letter, and if he did have it in this box, that box might be anywhere in the Highlands? Even with the Campbells already?”
The fire behind him snapped, as if the final punctuation to the mystery he and his clan had focused on for the past month.
If such a letter existed, it was as far out of reach as if it didn’t exist at all.
Blair paused, staring over Reade’s bare shoulder into the fire.
“Mayhap I’m misunderstanding, but if the Campbells had such a letter in their possession, would they no’ be pressuring ye even more to sign the oath? Knowing that any evidence against the king was safe with them?”
He huffed out a warm breath that pressed damply through her bodice to her chest.
“Aye. That sounds like what the Campbells would do. And as of yet, naught official has come from them or the king himself. ‘Tis a fair chance they dinna have the letter or this box, either. If Mungo had it, he might have kept it from the Campbells, perchance for payment or blackmail. The box and the letter could be anywhere. I shall have to tell my father of this in the morn. Will ye join me to describe it? Mayhap we can tell the rest of MacDonalds and their allies to keep a look out for this box.”
Blair threaded her fingers through his hair, where they contrasted against his unruly brown locks. Unruly, so much like the man himself.
“Aye. I’m so sorry, Reade. But ‘tis as I told ye the first day I met ye. I dinna know about a letter. I dinna know even where Mungo’s box is if he had the letter. He shared naught with me but pain and humiliation.”
Reade sat up and moved his hand to rest on her still flat belly.A fall babe,Sorcha had told them.
“Those days are past,mo ghràdh,” he told her, then lifted his eyes to hers. “Now we focus on us and this babe.”
Blair curled her hand over his on her belly. “Our babe.”
That night, after guaranteesfrom Blair that ‘twas safe for the babe, Reade parted her legs tenderly, held himself high over her slightly swollen belly, and claimed her as his wife again. She gasped as he entered, and he halted above her, his face tight with worry.
“Did I hurt ye? Or the babe?”
Blair gazed at him through slitted eyes and gave him a sly smile. “Nay, my love. ‘Tis wonderful.” Then she slipped her hands down to the hard curves of his buttocks and pressed, urging him on. Reade’s lips thinned to a grim line, but the velvety warmth of her sheath and the movements of her hips were too much for him to deny. He dropped his head between his shoulders as his hips resumed their steady cadence of pushing and dragging until her heart raced to the point it would burst.
The union of their bodies, the slapping of skin on skin, Reade’s raspy panting and the quivering between her thighs brought her to the brink, letting her soar until her body shuddered in thunderous release.
She dug her fingernails into Reade’s backside, his thrusts growing in urgency and pace at the sounds of her release. Then he threw his head back and groaned between gritted teeth. Though he found his own moment, he didn’t drop down onto her like he had in the past. Rather, he curved around her so as to protect her belly, breathless as he rode out the aftermath of spilling his seed. Blair looked up at him, his face relaxed and calm as his dark hair fell into his eyes.
Reade shifted, lowering his head to kiss her — grazing at her lips, licking and caressing and sending a shiver throughout her body. His lips tasted sweetly of the honeyed ale from dinner, tinged with salt from his exertions, and just soReade. The kiss burned against her, as if marking his flavor like a signature upon her lips.
With a final groan, Reade rolled to his side and pulled her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Blair, one tucked under the swell of her belly and the other around her breasts, cupping one possessively. She nestled into him, the curve of her buttocks grinding into his hips.
