The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,46
don’t feel quite as lonely now.”
She turned and was startled by a tall, shadowy figure behind her. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the little cry that sprang to her throat, then slowly let out a sigh of relief. “Grant. You startled me.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I wanted to be certain your servant was gone before showing myself.”
“You shouldn’t be here. Surely someone will see you, and by morning we will be the talk of the castle.”
“Trust me, my lady, we are already the talk of, not only the castle, but the entire village of Duncrune. Do you mind?”
She shook her head and the dark silk of her curls drifted like a veil around her shoulders. “Not for my sake. But for your sake, you should leave, Grant. After all, you are laird of the castle.”
“And as laird, I choose to be here with you.” He reached out a hand to her hair and watched as the strands sifted through his fingers. “All night I wanted this. Only this.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Feel what you do to my poor heart.”
“It’s thundering.”
“Aye.” He looked into her eyes before drawing her close and brushing her mouth with his. “The need for you is such, my lady, that I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone.”
He kissed her long and slow and deep, until she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself up to the pleasure.
It was what she wanted, as well. Just this. To be held in this man’s arms. To feel treasured above all else. To be loved until they were both sated.
“My people were charmed by you, Kylia.” He ran soft kisses across her temple to her cheek. “My brother Dougal could hardly contain his excitement at meeting you.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “It was clear that Finlay and Giles were enchanted by you.”
She moved until her mouth found his, hungry for more of his kisses. “And their laird?”
“Has lost his heart to you completely, my lady.”
They came together in a kiss so hot, so hungry, the very air around them seemed charged with energy.
“So.” The sound of Hazlet’s voice had their heads coming up sharply. “This is how the laird of Duncrune Castle behaves when in the company of a witch.”
Kylia started to step away when Grant’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Holding her close, he looked over. “You are intruding, Aunt.”
“I can see that, for I have eyes. But it seems my nephew has been blinded by witchcraft.”
“I prefer to call it love.” His tone was soft, but there was no denying the barely controlled anger that lay beneath.
“Do not debase the word with such as I have just witnessed, nephew. Love is only true when blessed by the sacraments, and witnessed by a man of the church. What you and this witch share is coarse and base, and mocks everything that is good and decent.”
Grant heard Kylia’s little intake of breath and absorbed her pain to his own heart. With an oath he set her behind him before advancing toward his aunt. “You will leave these chambers, never to return. Do you understand me?”
“You need not bar me, for I have no desire to see this woman, or speak to her again. She is a vulgar woman who is leading you down a path of destruction, nephew. Fool that you are, you are so blinded by her beauty, you fail to see the evil that lurks in her heart.”
As she turned away, Kylia hurried across the room to bar her exit from the room. “Wait, Lady Hazlet, for there is something I must tell you.”
The older woman shoved her aside and flung open the door. On the threshold she turned. Though it was impossible to see her eyes through the ever-present veil, the venom in her voice was plain enough. “You are dead to me. As is my nephew. I will hear no evil words from your lips. Nor will I acknowledge you in any way.”
She turned to Grant. “Beware, nephew. I wield great power with the Council. Greater than any witch.” She turned away and called over her shoulder, “You will rue the day you brought this creature to Duncrune Castle.”
As her footsteps echoed in the dark hallway, Grant closed the door and drew Kylia into his arms. Against her temple he whispered, “I misjudged the depth of my aunt’s grief. Giles was right when he