by Paula Quinn
She caught his gaze, and for a moment she looked content enough to fall asleep. He needed to get her home while she could still travel on her feet.
“Sina.” He stood up and reached for her arisaid. “Come, lass. Let’s go home.”
“So soon?” she asked, looking up into his eyes as she reached for his hand and rose from her chair. “I was…I…” Her gaze was glassy and distant. She reached for him with both hands and stumbled into his arms.
She remained conscious, which earned her a round of applause from the others. Adam wasn’t sure how long her admirable condition would last and hurried her out of the tavern. He stopped with her outside the door and arranged her arisaid around her as best he could, trying to be quick. He was strong, but he’d never carried a lass home from the tavern before.
“Keep a clear head, aye?” He kept his voice low and soft while he covered her head with the fine wool.
He smiled at her chin, her throat as she lifted her head to the sky. “So many stars.” She began to tip backward. He moved to her side and fit his arm around her waist to hold her up. “I liked tonight. I like your kin.”
“That’s good, love. They like ye too.”
Did he just call her love or lass?
“Ula?” she called out and tried to turn to look around her, taking no notice of his previous reply.
“She’s with Duff.”
He caught the distaste in her gaze when she set it on Goliath.
Adam winked at his dog and held up his wife as they walked carefully toward the vale. There was only moonlight and torchlight from the castle to see the way. But Adam didn’t need either.
“I haven’t forgotten why I came looking for you earlier,” she said, pressing herself to him for support and possibly warmth. It wasn’t to seduce him, but that’s exactly what it was doing. Seducing his muscles, his mind.
“I will not be kept cooped up in the castle!”
He laughed softly in the silvery light and stared at her. “I marvel at the control ye wield over yer tongue, even as yer strength is slippin’.”
“My strength is not slipping.”
“Good. And I promise no’ to keep ye cooped up anywhere.”
She sighed and snuggled a little closer.
“It smells good here.” She tipped her nose to the heather-scented breeze and then rested her head against his chest.
Adam didn’t hate this. In fact, he liked her leaning on him. He wished she didn’t need to be drunk on two cups of rum to do it. Damned pirates. The ale at Will’s was watered down to keep folks from stumbling home, but the rum was pure fire.
He felt her go heavy in his arms and reached around to catch her just before she wilted to the ground.
They were less than halfway home. “Sina,” he whispered close to her face. “Try to stand, lass. A wee bit longer.”
She looped her arms around his neck and hung there instead.
He had to carry her the rest of the way. Likely the first of many duties he’d have to see to now that he was wed.
“I’ll no’ have ye drinkin’ rum again, wife,” he said, cradling her in his arms for the second time in days.
“No rum,” she agreed, resting her cheek against his chest.
Hell, he didn’t mind this. He liked how she felt against him, her heart beating close to his. She didn’t weigh much, and even if she did, he felt strong enough to carry her to Portree. Mayhap taking care of her wouldn’t be so terrible. Keeping his hands off her would be more difficult.
When he reached the castle, he carried her up the stairs to their chamber and set her on the bed.
He sat at the edge, knowing he had to untie her stays. The damned things were likely stopping her air. His fingers paused at the laces at her breasts. He should have called one of the maids to see to her.
His breath sounded in his ears, hard and slow while he pulled each lace, freeing her and then lifting her slightly to pull her arms through the loops. Her body was limp against him, her head thrown back over his arm. He lowered his face to her neck and closed his eyes, inhaling her. She smelled like heather and peat. He smiled, thinking it was likely the first time she ever smelled like such things.
He looked down into her face and felt his most resistant resolve falter. No. How could he give his full heart to a lass who loved another?
Even though William wasn’t here, Adam still had to win Sina from him. He’d never tried to win a lass before. The only way he knew came from books. So when he had her out of her skirts, he fought the desire to keep undressing her. It wasn’t overly difficult. He wasn’t a dishonorable rake.
Finally, with his legs and back aching, he fell into his chair and watched her for a little while.
He wanted to go to his bed. He wanted to lie beside her, take her in his arms…He closed his eyes, heard something in his back crack, muttered a curse, and fell asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Sina woke in the stillness of dawn and to the sound of screeching gulls in the distance. She sat up and reached for her head. Rum. Oh, never again. She squinted and fixed her gaze on Adam sprawled out asleep in the chair. Save for his plaid, he was fully dressed. Had he carried her back from the tavern? Had she dreamed of being cradled in his arms? He’d said he was going to find another room, and surely there were many in the castle, but he’d stayed with her. In a chair again.
She looked down at her shift. Where were her stays and skirts? Had he removed them?
She remembered their conversation in this room before she met him on the hill last night. He didn’t want to pretend there was something between them, or that there could ever be. She’d agreed. Yet she’d foolishly spent more time with him and enjoyed it—what she remembered of it at least. Damnation! A thread of panic coursed through her. What had she forgotten?
She remembered Ula and the hound’s large, bright eyes. She hadn’t expected the dog to gain her trust so quickly. She hadn’t wanted to let herself care for anyone or anything here, but she felt her walls crumbling.
She also remembered Mary and how she’d held up Sina for inspection. And Adam, doing his best to make a quick end of the busty serving wench.
Sina knew her husband was no angel. But he was no longer a fish for the net. She hated that she was a bit possessive of him. She had no right to be. But flashes of the quirk of his mouth, the arch of his raven brow while she shared pieces of her life with him, the way he exhilarated in the playful banter with his brother dashed her logic to pieces.
Was withholding her physical affections truly unholy? She had, after all, agreed to take him before God’s priest. She was most assuredly attracted to him, and she would admit that thoughts of kissing him had invaded her mind more than once. She tried to fight them. She wanted to love the man to whom she gave her body. She always believed that man would be William.
How could she just give up the life she had planned to have with him? The life she had been planning since she was a child? How? How does one do such a thing?
“Ah, ye’re well.”
Adam’s deep, smoky voice wound itself around her, pulling her gaze to his.
He stretched like a languorous prince, frowned at his boots still on his feet, and then smiled at her.
Her gaze on him softened. “Did you carry me back last eve?”
“Aboot halfway.”
She knew it was a long walk and that he hadn’t wanted to have to carry her back. She hadn’t meant to cause him such trouble. “’Twill never happen again,” she promised softly, dipping her chin. “I should not have drunk so much.”
“There are some winter nights”—his lilting voice beckoned her to lift her gaze; she didn’t want to look at him and be tempted by his beauty—“when the cold gets doun in yer bones. Those nights we drink until our blood drips fire.”
She finally looked up. He must have recognized her horror at the thought of living someplace where it was possible to freeze to death, because he quickly disregarded his words with a wave of his hand. “Ye and I dinna
have to stay here. Most of my kin spend the winters in Perth or Ayrshire.”
She liked sitting with him as if they were friends, the way she and William had before he’d gone on his three-year tour. Though she couldn’t remember ever longing to be kissed by him.
She’d missed William when he left, but after the first year, her time without him grew easier. She hadn’t felt lonely then the way she did now. She didn’t want to fight. She wanted someone to talk to. Someone who could empathize with her.
“As chief, my faither must stay with the villagers,” he went on, finally kicking off his boots and making her forget William. “If I’m made chief, I will have to stay as well.”
She met his gaze across a shaft of sunlight spilling in from the nearest window. Regret painted his eyes blue, but his determination was chiseled in silver. He had no plans of ever helping her get back. He was telling her what her future would be like because she was his now.
Well, she was just as determined. Yet…she swept her gaze to the other side of the chambers, afraid he would see the uncertainty in her eyes when she spoke.
“I won’t be here.”
“Perth, then?” His tone was laced with humor.
“London,” she answered, slipping her gaze back to him and adding a challenging smirk. “Or Hanover.”
He smiled, but she noted the slight hardening of his gaze. “What would ye have me do, lass? Put everyone here in danger? Ye heard me tell ye my kin visit the south. The only reason they can—withoot fear of bein’ arrested because of their name—is because of the queen.”
“I would speak to my father on your clan’s behalf, of course,” she hastened to tell him while he stood from the chair. But she knew what she was asking of him, and she wasn’t taken aback by his response.
“Marriage is the only way to secure an alliance.”
She knew he spoke true. It had happened for centuries in royal families or families with high peerage. Daughters were promised off for one thing or another, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Madly, watching him cut across the room with Goliath at his feet did. He was tall with long, straight, shapely legs and broad shoulders. He was strong enough to carry her halfway back to the castle, likely up the stairs and to his bed.
She tried to ignore the warm frisson trickling down her spine and watched him disappear into the privy. She waited, comfortable in his bed, trusting that he’d return and bring her no shame in it.
“So you don’t remain here in winter months?” she asked when he reappeared adjusting the laces of his breeches, his belt discarded.
“I’ve spent last winter here,” he told her, moving toward the door. He opened it, pulled off his léine, and set it in front of the doorway. “Before that,” he said, shutting the door once again and turning to her, “I was away.”
She remembered to breathe. That is, she thought she did until she grew light-headed. She realized she was staring at him. She commanded her eyes to look away, but they lingered, absorbing the stunning view of his long, tight torso and the powerful interplay of muscles in his shoulders and arms.
When he grinned at her blatant admiration, she blinked out of the spell he cast and cleared her throat. “What made you stay this last winter?”
He laughed a little, further turning her insides to tree sap and making her heart race when he padded nearer. “Ye ask the right questions.” He studied her with careful eyes. “Ye dinna ask where I went, but what kept me here.”
“Well, what did?” She had to keep her focus on something other than the sight of him, all darkness and light, strength, and what she hoped was sensitivity.
“’Twas the cold nights,” he admitted on a low, masculine laugh that made her belly feel warm. “I found that I liked the gatherin’s. There’s much laughter, and many tales are shared, new and old. I’ve been wonderin’ of late,” he said, looking off to the side and smiling, “if ’twas the brew or the company that warmed the blood on those coldest of nights.”
“You make it sound rather nice.” She began to smile but then drew in a short little gasp and pulled up her knees when he threw himself across the bottom of the bed.
“Shall we lie in bed all day?” He smiled, looking up at her, proving he liked the idea.
“Of course not,” she told him, snapping off the blanket and swinging her legs over the side.
“Good,” he said, rising up and following her to her feet, “because I thought we could breakfast in the heather, and then mayhap go fer a swim.”
She turned on her way to the wardrobe for a fresh gown. “A swim?”
He nodded. “In the bay.”
“If ’tis as chilly as yesterday—”
“’Tisn’t.” He looked toward the window. “The heather is still.”
“I don’t know how to swim.”
He crooked his mouth at her. “The tide will be oot fer the next few hours. ’Tis shallow fer a long way oot. Ye dinna need to swim, just take pleasure in the day.”
Take pleasure in the day by wading into a freezing bay before the sun had time to warm it? She would prefer a carriage ride in the park or afternoon tea with her friends Poppy and Eloise.
Eating outside in the heather sounded pleasant enough though, so she agreed—to eating, not to swimming.
“Thank ye, lass.”
She wasn’t sure why pleasing him made her go a little soft. Perhaps it was his wide, handsome smile and the spark of surprise in his inviting gaze. It worried her to think about which other of his wishes she would eventually give in to. How long would it take her heart to respond the way her body was? It was already beginning! Not only was Adam MacGregor the most magnificent man she’d ever laid eyes on—and there were plenty coming and going at court—but he grew more enchanting every time he opened his mouth—whether it was to tell her tales about honor, to apologize for reacting a certain way, or to get her riled up, which, disturbingly, she had enjoyed a little and so did he.
“I’ll go pack our food,” he said, slipping into a fresh léine but not bothering with his boots. “Bare feet.” His grin was wide, playful, stirring all sorts of temptations within her. “Dress light and dinna bring yer arisaid.”
He snatched his plaid from where it hung, and left the room with Goliath.
Alone, Sina wondered if she’d gone completely mad. Surely that was the reason she was smiling. It wasn’t because for the first time since she’d arrived—no, for the first time in years—she was looking forward to the day…to being with him. It wasn’t that.
She reached into her wardrobe and pulled at her skirts.
Breakfast in the heather with Adam. It sounded fanciful and romantic. It made her catch her breath and her traitorous heart skip a beat as she dressed and hurried out to meet him.
Chapter Fifteen
Sina climbed the misty heather-lined hill with Adam beside her and Goliath cantering ahead.
She drew in a deep breath and let the sweet scent of Camlochlin wash through her. After almost a sennight of being here, the fragrance was growing familiar. She closed her eyes, trying to define the many subtle parts that made it so unique: heather and other flora, clean mountain mist, and fresh, briny air from the sea beyond the cliffs.
She opened her eyes and spread her gaze over the mist-covered landscape. She’d thought it brutal and lonely the first time she’d climbed up to the crest. But now it appeared more magnificent than terrifying. A hundred different shades of green burst forth beneath the drifting clouds while pink and purple heather moors draped the braes in the distance.
“I don’t even know where we are,” she said, overcome by the stunning grandeur of it.
Adam stopped and stretched out his plaid in the lush stalks. “Skye.”
“Skye,” she echoed, looking up. “It feels close.”
“’Tis.”
Her gaze fell to his and they exchanged a smile before he invited her to sit.
He’d prepared a full basket of black bread, different jams, cheeses, and fruit.
He remembered to bring wine and cups and even napkins. Had he done this before? She didn’t want to think on it or why she cared.
While they ate, he told her about the land, pointing out the Black Cuillins in the distance and the smaller Sgurr na Stri rearing up behind the castle. Some of the women, awake with the dawn and with children in tow, carried their soiled linens and clothes to the river Camas Fhionnairigh for washing, while others swept the entryways of their homes. A few men were also awake, leaving their home to gather water from the wells. Cattle and sheep grazed in the shadows of another mountain called Bla Bheinn, where, according to Adam, many a lass had been kissed since Camlochlin was built. The castle was guarded from raiders by men Sina could not see. Other men patrolling the battlements of the castle, visible to all, guarded everyone else.
It was quiet, save for the waves rolling in from the bay, an occasional dog barking, or a child’s laughter.
“’Tis very peaceful and beautiful here.”
Adam nodded, biting into his bread and looking out over the vale. “Sometimes too much so. Sometimes yer blood needs stirrin’.”
She shifted her gaze to him and marveled that his profile, half-shrouded in the mist, was even more breathtaking than the land. Who was he? A man of honor, or a man of barely veiled indifference? “Peace and beauty do not stir you?”
He cast her a side-glance, then settled his gaze on the distant sea.
“My life hasna been entirely peaceful,” he told her, “due to my own defiance.”
“Oh?” she asked, curious to know more about him. She hadn’t shared moments of intimacy like this with William in years. She knew it was foolish to share them with Adam. Foolish and dangerous, but he’d already begun, and if she were going to remain here, it was best to know him better. “What were you defiant against?”
He turned to offer her the full force of his doubtful grin. “D’ye truly want to know the dull details?”
“Aye,” she said softly, watching his gaze dip to her dimple, her lips. His grin softened and then faded to uncertainty.