Tender Feud

The dark head turned slowly upon the rough mattress, the dark crescents of lashes lifting unhurriedly. When his blue eyes focused on her, Raith’s mouth curved in a drowsy smile. “Katrine.” His voice, still husky with sleep, vibrated through her. “You came.”

“Of course I came. You didn’t think I would allow them to hang you, did you? I mean to help you escape.”

Sluggishly Raith sat up, brushing back a lock of raven hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Forgive me my obtuseness, my love, but you caught me napping. Why the devil would I want to escape?”

“Because they will execute you, that’s why!”

“I’m not a condemned man yet.”

Katrine stared at Raith, not understanding how he could be so nonchalant. Clasping her fingers together, she strove for patience. “Raith, surely you realize how dire your situation is.”

He looked around him in feigned surprise. “I admit the accommodations aren’t quite what I’m accustomed to, but my incarceration hasn’t been so dire. I wasn’t chained to the wall, and I was even allowed a shave and a change of linen. Believe me, I’ve been far more comfortable than my kinsmen were in the Oban tolbooth.”

“Will you please quit making light of this? The duke is expected any minute!”

“Good. I’m anxious to commence our discussion as soon as may be.”

“You are anxious?” Katrine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Don’t you realize what the duke would like to do to you?”

“Draw and quarter me, I expect.” To her vexation and dismay, Raith raised his arms above his head, languorously stretching his long frame. The sight had an unnerving effect on her, for she found herself remembering the rapture of having that hard, leanly muscled body moving sensuously against her. And when his dark eyes met hers, she could tell from the glow of desire in the dark blue depths that he was recalling the same memories as she.

His voice dropped to a seductive murmur as he held out a hand in invitation. “Come here and kiss me.”

She wanted to respond. Upon her soul, she wanted to. She wanted to lose herself in the fierce tenderness of his kisses and the shattering ecstasy of his embrace. But after a moment of sheer insanity, Katrine came to her senses. “Merciful saints, Raith, there isn’t time for such foolishness! You have to leave here at once.”

Sadly Raith shook his head. “No, my love, I don’t. I don’t intend to go anywhere. I went to too much trouble to get myself here.”

“Trouble? What in heaven are you talking about? You can’t mean to say you actually wanted to be imprisoned here?”

“Well, I did consider locking myself in your uncle’s buttery, but I decided it wouldn’t suit my purpose as well, so I had myself locked in your chief’s castle instead.”

Katrine felt the same violent surge of exasperation she had experienced last night. Biting back a sharp comment on the obviously sudden deterioration of Raith’s mental capacity, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “Well, you can just unlock yourself. I have no intention of bearing the guilt for your death. You are going to escape and that is final!”

“And live the rest of my life a fugitive? No, my sweet shrew, I came to settle this and claim you as my bride, and I’m not leaving here without you.” As if to underscore his point, Raith stretched out again, lolling lazily on his stomach, elbows bent, chin supported on his hands.

Katrine, refusing to acknowledge his comment about brides, muttered an oath. Irately she snatched at the ties of her cloak and marched over to him. Shrugging out of the garment, she let it fall beside Raith on the pallet.

He caught his breath at the sight she presented. The stiffened bodice of her fashionable, black taffeta gown pushed up her breasts to a dangerous height, while the lustrous dark color contrasted exquisitely with her pale, radiant flesh. The result was smart and chic, and entirely too provocative for a man who had been without female companionship for the better part of two months. At the moment Raith could think of nothing more than freeing those pale swells from their confining whalebone and subjecting the rosy nipples to the sweet exploration of his mouth.

Oblivious to the effect her attire was having on his pulse rate, Katrine placed her hands on her waist and glared down at him.

“Raith MacLean,” she said, enunciating slowly, as if speaking to a young child or a halfwit, “it is not possible for us to leave together. Only one woman entered the castle, and it would look too suspicious if both of us were seen departing. And you have to have time before the soldiers are alerted, so I will remain here while you slip away.”

Modestly turning her back then, she lifted her black taffeta skirts and fumbled with the layers of petticoats beneath. Raith watched her curiously.

“Katie, my heart, I would very much like to make love to you, and I have no objections to doing so in almost any location you could name, but I draw the line at a Campbell prison cell.”

She clenched her teeth. “Good, because I don’t intend for us to make love.”

“Then why are you undressing?”

“I am not undressing! I’m intent on saving your worthless skin. I’ve brought you one of my gowns and a set of hoops, and you can wear my cloak. It has a hood, so no one should recognize you, at least not if you keep your face concealed.”

Raith, to her eternal frustration, threw back his head and laughed. “I’m not going anywhere dressed in your petticoats.”

Katrine scowled over her shoulder at him as she struggled to free herself of the multitude of skirts. “Why not? Your Bonnie Prince escaped to France disguised as a woman. Do you consider yourself superior to your own prince?”

Raith’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Some might consider it treason if I answered that question honestly.” With leisurely unconcern then, he rolled on his side and propped his head on one elbow. “But you don’t know me very well if you think I’m willing to hide behind a woman’s skirts. For argument’s sake, though, assuming I can get away with your disguise, just how do you plan to deal with locked doors and the Sassenach soldiers?”