Looking at the circle of amber he held, a lovely butterfly forever caught in full wing-spread within, Storm relinquished some of her anger. "It was my mother's. She found it when she was a small child and had it hung upon this chain. When she fell in love with my father she gave it to him. As she lay dying, she told me to wear it and do the same. 'Tis not often ye find such beauty caught in amber, nor caught so perfectly. She felt it was a perfect love token, for 'tis unique and the shade of our eyes."
"And ye have nay found a man to give it to as yet?"
"Obviously not," she drawled, trying to ignore a twinge of pain that came with recalling her circumstances.
Ignoring her reference, Tavis stared into her eyes, truly fascinated by their coloring. "Aye, 'tis the same color, and your eyes can snare a man as well as this resin did the doomed butterfly."
"I have no intention of snaring anyone," she snapped indignantly.
"Nay?" As he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs caressed her cheeks with a slow, gentle motion.
"Nay." She could feel herself reacting to his touch, as well as the lean strength of him pressed so closely to her. "Well, now that ye have had what ye wanted, ye best scurry back to your own bed."
"I never scurry."
Biting her lip against a rising annoyance, as well as a growing passion, she gritted out, "Then walk, run, trot, lope or do as ye please, but ye best get to moving."
"I am not going anywhere, lass." He smiled as her eyes widened.
"Ye cannot stay here. 'Twould be known by all what ye have done come the morning."
" 'Tis common knowledge now. I made my plans plain enough ere I left the hall."
For a moment Storm was speechless with embarrassment and outrage. "Did ye have to? How can I face all the others on the morrow? Could ye not have kept my disgrace a private matter?"
Shaking his head, Tavis found her naivete hard to believe. "Ye are my prisoner and a bonnie wee lass. Not only your kinsmen will question your innocence when ye leave here, but my folk have wondered why I have nay touched ye. Those that didnae ken I had not all thought I had. Near half the folk ye have faced all week have thought ye in my bed or I in yours. Think on it no longer, my sweet little one."
"How unjust of them," she whispered. "Do ye not care that they think ye a ravisher of maids?"
"Nay." His hands began to stroke her slim length and he felt her tension being replaced by desire. "I've nay ravished ye. Seduced, mayhaps, but nay ravished." His tongue tracing the outline of her mouth, he murmured, " 'Tis here in your arms I intend to stay until ye are given back to Hagaleah and England."
Neither paid much mind to how uncomfortable the mere thought of separation was. Even so, it killed what little resistance Storm had. Tavis became all the more desperate in his need.
* * * * *
Iain paused outside his father's door, saw a shaft of light, heard voices and rapped. Following the command to enter, his gaze settled upon Janet, a woman he neither trusted nor liked. He said nothing until his father finished off his potion, handed the goblet to Janet and she had left the room.
"Putrid rot," Colin grumbled. " 'Tis little help it gives me, yet I feel I maun suffer it."
"Tavis is with the Eldon lass."
Colin sighed. "Aye. 'Twas due. I hope he isnae going to hurt the bairn."
"Nay. He might not keep to the letter of his promise, but he'll not harm her. She's an Eldon."
"I ken that weel enough, and many's the man who'd say 'Have at it, Tavis,' but she's a good wee lassie and I cannae wish her hurt. Muckle's the year Eldon and MacLagan have faced each other at sword's point, but the man doesnae deal in treachery and butchery. Many's the time I wished I could have a friend at my side as worthy as that foe. I cannae like visiting dishonor upon his child. Then, too, there's the wee matter of me sword arm," he finished, touching the smooth scar at his shoulder.
"Aye. All this I can see weel, but 'tis more than that, is it not?"
"I have ne'er seen the lad in such a fever for a lass."
"Nor have I. 'Tis what drives him to go against your wishes, mayhaps against his own."
Hesitating, Colin held his son's gaze and then decided that Iain was very probably of a like mind, so would not find his growing qualms foolish ones. "I fear Tavis is sowing himself a harvest of grief," he said quietly, and Iain solemnly nodded.
Chapter Eight
Ignoring the tension that was building within her with each step she took, Storm followed Phelan into the great hall where dinner was to be served. Since Tavis had begun to share her bed there had been less of an air of imprisonment to her stay at Caraidland. Tavis did not like someone hanging around all the time, yet Storm knew she would not get many steps away if she tried to flee. There was always someone near, always a pair of eyes following her.
The fortnight had brought yet another reply from Hagaleah, couched in such terms that, although it was a refusal, it could not be acted upon as such. When Storm had presented Tavis with what she considered a reasonable tally for her nightly services and suggested that he deduct it from the ransom there had been a spectacular argument. She thought it a little hypocritical of him to use her like a whore, but then become enraged and outraged if she dared to call herself one in even the most
