by Paula Quinn
“I could command Goliath to stop ye,” he warned.
At the mention of his name, Goliath perked his ears and licked his chops.
She lowered her arm and her left shoe, which she was ready to hurl at him next.
He liked how she looked in his bed, on her knees in his blankets, her neat bun in ruins around her small, round face. He wanted to go to her and take her, as was his right. But she wasn’t going back to England. They were about to begin their lives together, and she sparked a desire in him to be more than just her husband.
“The moment that hellhound is out of your sight,” she promised, back to her usually quiet voice, “I’m going to make you wish you’d never met me.”
Hellhound? Adam cast his friend an understanding look. “I’m never oot of my dog’s sight,” he told her, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “And I already wish I’d never met ye.”
She flung her shoe at him and hit him in the chest with the heel.
He watched the shoe hit the floor, then spread his arms at his sides. “So ye care suddenly what I think of ye?”
She tossed back her head and laughed a little. His gaze raked over the delicate column of her neck. She was his. He stepped closer to the bed.
“I would have to care for you,” she charged, still smiling when she looked at him.
Adam could do many things well, but reading people was his best skill. He’d spent most of his childhood around adults. They were often quiet around him, so he practiced watching for the subtlest nuances of changes in expressions, mostly the eyes, body movements, and a host of other things.
Her smile was forced. She was trying to conceal something else.
“And I could never care for a savage.”
Her words pierced through his flesh like fire-tipped darts. He wasn’t sure which part of her declaration bothered him the most, true or not, that she could never care for him or that she still thought him a savage, or why it bothered him at all. “Ye keep callin’ me that, and I’ll behave like one.”
Her eyes blazed. Her mouth rounded like a cherry, dragging his gaze there.
“You don’t think flinging me over your shoulder and parading my arse in the air in front of your family and friends was not savage?”
“Ye left me no other choice,” he reminded her. Every part of him wanted to move toward her. How long would he go along with her mad request for abstinence in their marriage? “Yell and screech at me all ye want,” he said, keeping his voice light and unaffected by her, “but there’s no need fer violence. Aye?”
“Screech?” Her eyes hardened. His gaze fell to her other shoe now gripped in her hand. “You don’t know how to speak to a woman. ’Tis obvious you don’t know how to listen to one either.”
She was a viper, Adam thought, lifting his amused gaze to hers. “Mayhap if she had something of interest to say rather than constantly remindin’ me of her displeasure, I would speak differently.”
“And perhaps if you didn’t—what are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide when he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sittin’ in my bed.”
“Well, go sit in your chair.”
He should. He should get away from her. He wanted to touch her, taste her, kiss her insults off her lips.
He didn’t leave the bed, but lay back in it and looked up at her. “D’ye think me yer servant?”
She turned away from him, looking uneasy. She lifted her hand to her throat and expelled a short breath. “I—can you sit up while you speak to me?”
He shook his head. “I’m more comfortable like this.”
“Barbarian.” At least this time she didn’t mutter it.
“If no’ jumpin’ at the whim of a spoiled brat makes me a barbarian, then so be it.”
She leaped at him, her heeled shoe ready to swing. He caught her wrist and pulled her closer. When she tried to slap him with her other hand, he caught that one too and held her aloft above him.
So he discovered that she didn’t like being called spoiled. Why?
“I said no more weapons,” he said patiently while he stared into her glacial eyes.
“And I said I want to go home.”
He could have her right now, wild and passionate in his arms, but he didn’t want her passion to be hatred. She wanted abstinence, so abstinence she would get.
Even if it killed him.
Still holding her wrists, he pulled her arms above his shoulders, bringing her down on top of him. He held her there for a moment, her mouth so close to his that he could feel her breath mingling with his.
He leaned his head up and brushed his lips against her cheek…her ear. “Ye are home, lass.”
He pushed her up and off him, then rose from the bed and walked toward the door.
“The sooner ye accept that, the happier ye’ll be.”
He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. His shoulders bunched around his ears when another clay item smashed to bits on the other side.
Chapter Seven
Adam leaned back in a chair in his cousin Will’s tavern on the outskirts of Camlochlin. He lifted his cup to his lips and downed the warm whisky inside.
He caught the eye of bonny Mary MacDonald serving at one of the larger tables and lifted his empty cup to her.
She sauntered over, her milky bosom pushing up from her tight stays.
He clenched his jaw and looked away.
“Why so somber today, Adam?” she asked, filling his cup. “Ye look like ye’re in need of m’ warm body to help bring back yer joy.”
“Alas, lovely Mary,” he lamented, stretching his long legs beneath the table, wanting to run. “I am wed. Yer warm body will be sorely missed.”
“Wed?” she asked, looking and sounding as incredulous as he had after his father read the queen’s letter out loud. “Why would ye do such a thing as wed a poor lass?”
He smiled into his cup despite this being the second most miserable day of his life.
“’Twas arranged,” he told her quietly, hating once again the price of power he didn’t want.
“Why did ye no’ just refuse?” poor, ignorant Mary asked.
“If only ’twere so easy,” he said after a long sigh.
He watched Mary leave. No matter what he had been before, that part of his life was over.
He looked into the cup he wanted to drown himself in and then peered up when Goliath leaped to his four paws and Daniel Marlow slipped into a chair across the table.
“Ye havena told me yet what ye think of this marriage,” he said while Daniel lifted his hand to Mary for another set.
“I pity you.”
Adam lifted his brow and one corner of his mouth.
“I’m completely sincere,” Marlow insisted. “No one in the castle is happy about this.”
“But nothin’ can be done aboot it?” Adam asked. If anyone knew the law, it was the queen’s general.
“No, nothing. If she decreed it and you don’t do it—”
“I know,” Adam stopped him. He didn’t want to think about being pushed around by his aunt, who had done nothing to repeal his clan’s proscription. He owed her nothing, not even his allegiance. Still, Sina’s father, who would be king, had given his consent, so he wanted this too. It meant continued safety for his clan, and it meant Sina was staying, despite what they both hoped. The future king wasn’t binding her to the future chief’s brother—if that chief were Abby.
Hell, Adam hadn’t planned on discussing this with anyone, especially not with his brother-in-law.
“This union canna be pleasin’ to ye since yer wife believes she will be chief. Ye and I both know that now that I’m wed to a Hanover, there is no way I willna be chosen.”
Daniel took his cup from Mary and took a swig of his ale. “Abby knows. She also knows what’s best for the clan.”
“Aye, and she believes what’s best is her. What if she’s correct?”
“What if she’s not?”
Adam listened, wondering if
he’d had too much to drink and he wasn’t hearing right.
“Adam.” The general moved in a little closer. “I know what you want everyone here to believe. That all you care about is raiding, women, and whisky, but I know better. On the Black Isle,” he confessed, “and I’ll admit, before that, I saw a man who used mercy and fairness over judgment. That’s why I asked for Lachlan’s life to be placed in your hands. I knew you would make the correct decision.”
“Abby would have made the same decision,” Adam said into his cup before he drank from it.
“Abby would have done what her uncle commanded her to do. You put an individual before the whole. Hear me, I believe my wife would make an excellent chief, but so would you. ’Tis all I’m saying.”
Adam laughed, but Marlow was serious. What the hell was he supposed to think about this? He was the second person, Lachlan MacKenzie being the first, to tell him he’d be a good chief. What did they know? “I dinna know whether I should thank ye, or strangle ye.”
“I know the next chief will have huge boots to fill,” his friend went on, proving he understood the enormity of this. His vivid green gaze softened. “Whether ’tis you or Abby who must fill them, I’ve no doubt the correct choice will be made. You are like them, brother.”
“Like who?” Adam asked, tossing him a curious glance while he reached down and sank his fingers into Goliath’s fur.
“Like your grandsire and your father, the great chiefs before you.”
Adam laughed. Marlow must have been drinking before he came in. “D’ye jest? I’m nothin’ like them. Ye’re correct to say I care aboot things, but I’m no’ passionate aboot the things they are passionate aboot. Ye speak of fillin’ their boots. Tell me how Abby or I can ever do what they have done. My grandfaither fought a war against the Campbells alone. My faither—hell, Rob MacGregor is the best of men in my eyes and in my heart.”
“In the heart of every person in Camlochlin,” Daniel added, further proving Adam’s point. “But so what? Everyone has their own destiny, brother. It seems Melusina de Arenburg is to be a part of yours. By marrying her you’ve shown the clan that their safety comes before your happiness. They all understand it now, even Abby. Believe me.”
Yesterday, when he still had a choice about his future, this would have been a bad thing. But not now. His fate had been sealed in a chapel. He’d always defied it, doing everything he could to convince his clan that he would make a poor leader. Now that the choice was no longer in his hands, things felt different. He didn’t have to be the person he’d become anymore. There was no point, but he wasn’t sure he knew how to be anyone else. He was glad this marriage gave his kin the chance to see something new in him.
“’Tis one thing I’ve done. Is it enough to change their minds aboot what kind of leader I will be?” Hell, just the thought of it made Adam want to bolt. But he couldn’t run from it anymore.
“You could have done a thousand things, but the one you did yesterday would still be the most important. Adam,” his brother-in-law said when they put down their cups, “you must stop running from who you are. You want your freedom from the bonds of duty, but there’s honor in duty. There’s honor in Camlochlin and ’tis engrained in you.”
“I know,” Adam agreed, surprised that Daniel knew it too. Surprised that he’d looked deeper. No wonder Marlow had seven different titles, including general of Her Majesty the Queen’s Royal Army and knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.
“I’ve never run from honor,” Adam told him. “It may seem as if I dinna practice it all the time.” He paused to curl his lips into an unrepentant smile. “But I’m no’ ignorant to the teachin’s of home. I just dinna know if I’m ready to be chief.”
“You won’t be alone,” Daniel assured him.
For a moment Adam had to take it in again that this was his sister’s husband sitting here encouraging him to accept his father’s seat.
“Or to be a husband,” Adam added.
“Again, you won’t be alone. There are plenty of husbands in Camlochlin who will advise you.”
“There’s a difference,” Adam told him. “You all loved yer wives before ye wed them.”
“So,” Daniel laughed and swigged the remainder of his drink, “there’s a romantic beneath all that I-don’t-give-a-damn veneer?”
Adam was almost certain he didn’t possess a romantic bone in his body. But he was scared out of his damned head that he and Sina would never love each other and would grow old and miserable. But he’d save that confession for another day.
They both turned to the raucous voices of Adam’s brothers as they entered the tavern.
“I dinna care. I’m sayin’ something,” Braigh insisted, leading the charge.
Judging by the deep scowl of determination his brother wore, Adam guessed he had complaints. Who didn’t?
Behind Braigh, Tam, the quieter, slightly thinner of the two, poked him in the ribs and pointed to Adam and the general sitting at the small table.
Adam narrowed his eyes at them as they approached the table and pulled two more chairs closer. “We thought we’d find ye here bleedin’ into yer cup.”
Adam loved the twins, and sometimes when he looked at them, like now, he couldn’t fathom where a score and four years had gone. They were as big as he was, but he still enjoyed playing and fighting with them, and mayhap, if he were fortunate, cause a wee bit of mayhem in their lives.
“Do I look like I’m bleedin’, Braigh?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. “I was enjoyin’ a drink with Daniel before ye two came in.”
“Ye see?” Braigh turned to Tam with concern marring his golden brow. “Even his wit has gone sour.”
Adam cast him a stony look.
“Aye, ye’re correct,” Tam agreed, studying Adam closely. “I see.”
Adam hooked one corner of his mouth and met Tam’s careful assessment with a smile and a tone laced with challenge. “What d’ye see, Tam? Tell me.”
Tam, the youngest by a few moments, blew out a sigh and lifted his hands, giving in easily. Unlike his almost identical brother, Tam had little interest in combat and more in wooing bonny lasses.
Adam’s victorious grin was instantaneous and brief. At least this one knew not to go up against him.
“I dinna even want to be here,” Tam complained, unhappy and brooding now that he’d been singled out.
Adam slipped a furtive glance to Daniel, who chuckled softly while he listened.
“I left Marybeth MacKinnon on the braes of Bla Bheinn because Braigh told me there was something peculiar aboot ye.”
Frowning, Adam kicked Tamhas under the table. “Why did ye leave her? My bein’ peculiar is nothin’ new.” He then shifted his gaze to Braigh and shook his head. “And ye, never interrupt a man when he’s in the arms of a bonny lass. What the hell is wrong with ye?”
Braigh took offense immediately and bristled in his plaid. “What’s wrong with ye? Ye’re the one who hasna smiled in two days. I’ll admit ye seem more yerself presently—an arrogant, irritatin’ pain in our arses.”
With his hand over his heart, Adam turned to the general, pretending to be choked up.
“We dinna like yer wife,” Braigh went on, as Adam knew he would. “We dinna like that she’s makin’ ye so unhappy.”
Hell, the monsters weren’t all that bad. Adam gave them both a long look, long enough to make them squirm. He’d had enough of teasing them. He was sincerely moved by why they didn’t like his wife. But his wife would never be happy here if his kin didn’t like her. And if she wasn’t happy, she’d make certain he wasn’t either. Life would be hard enough for him as chief without Sina and his kin not getting along. He had to mend things.
“She isna makin’ me unhappy, lads,” he told them in a gentler tone. They should be out kissing lasses and running from angry fathers, not worrying about him. “We were both thrown into this. Think of what ’tis like fer her. She doesna know any of us. She was taken from her home and those she loves.�
� He paused as a faceless man invaded his thoughts. He pushed him away and swigged the rest of his drink. “She willna ever see them again since we dinna travel to England. Have patience with her.”
He caught the general grinning and ignored him. “I’ll tell ye what would make me unhappy, lads,” he told them. “If my brothers didna even try to like her.”
The twins exchanged a look and a nod. “Are ye goin’ to try to like her?” Braigh asked.
What choice did he have? She was his wife. “Aye,” he assured with a smile they were waiting to see. “Of course. Now let’s get back. I should see to her.”
They left their coin on the table for Mary and headed for the door.
Adam left with them, but when he looked into the sunlit vale with its dark castle rising from the mountain behind it, its meticulously built manor houses and well-kept cottages sprinkled about its vast expanse, his legs wouldn’t take him where he wanted to go. Soon, everything would be on his shoulders. It already was. He had to go see to his unhappy wife and figure out a way to help his clan like her. Hell, he didn’t want any of this. He wasn’t sure he could do it.
“I’ll be along in a bit,” he told the others and turned back toward the hill with his hand on Goliath’s head.
Chapter Eight
My dearest William,
’Tis with the heaviest of hearts that I pen this letter. Though I know you will never read it, I can pretend that I’m speaking to you. It might help me get through this most terrible mockery forced upon me by the queen! I am heartsick that I am bound to a man I do not know. A man of whom I can find little to admire. He’s arrogant and infuriating.
She paused as she remembered her outburst two days ago. She’d never reacted so poorly in the past. Adam MacGregor brought out the worst in her. She had to admit, though only to herself, that it felt rather good to kick and scream and lose her temper.
To help you understand the barbarian I’ve been sworn to, his closest friend is a black hound from the piths of hell he calls Goliath.
Oh, William, the hounds. They are everywhere! They are as big as ponies. They frighten me. You remember Lord Sunderland’s mastiff…I can still see its fangs sinking into my flesh.