The warrior stopped stoking the fire and he grinned. “From tales from times gone by, aye. Then there is Gwyn and Gwyrthur, the sons of Greidawl who seek to win the hand of the lady Creudyladd in marriage. They are trapped in an unending fight.”
“Unending?” Magdalene frowned, “Why?”
“Why nae?” Angus jabbed an ember into place. “Love makes men do foolish things, lass. A man will run over spikes barefoot and fight a whole army singlehanded for a woman. Ye best believe that.”
His voice took on a sad tone and Magdalene wondered why but then he began talking again and his voice, so soft and lyrical, made her drift off to sleep. She did not want to wake up from it until a searing pain, hot like fire, scalded up her leg. She yelped and her eyes shot open. Her mind was still hovering between sleep and wake and it took her a long moment to realize that her blanket was on fire.
When she did, she tried to stand up but her legs had twisted the blanket into a knot and she tripped. Frantically, she tried to undo the tangle but she only made the twists worse. She cried out again but Angus was there. He pulled her away from the fire and ripped the smoldering blanket from her legs.
Trembling in fright, her chest was heaving and her breath short. She clutched Angus’ arms, staring with disbelieving eyes at the shreds of wool a foot away from her feet. When a section of the cloth sagged in on itself with the black section burnt through, she crawled unto Angus lap.
She heard soft whispers of comfort in her ears but could only sit still, wavering between horror and disbelief. Her cheek was brushed with a stubbled jaw and she turned. Angus’ eyes were inches away from her and her breath stopped in her throat.
“Yer safe, lass,” he said, his voice was rough and raspy like a rake dragging over gravel.
She could not move and when his eyes dipped to her lips, she instinctively licked them. His groan was soft and his words were strained and guttural. “Yer killin’ me, lass.”
And then he kissed her, hard and soft at the same time, with a gentle fervor. He pressed his fingers to her chin to get her to open her mouth for him, and her lips parted slightly. Magdalene’s hands clutched tightly into his shirt and she let him kiss her.
She was twisted unnaturally on his lap so she did not object when he turned her to sit on him properly. He ran his hand down the inside of her arm and she shivered as the fluttering sensation in her stomach reached to her core. Pleasure, unexpected, ran through her in wild bursts. Every part of her body was singing.
She could hear his breathing increase and feel her heart beat faster until it was a continuous thrum in her ears. His hand swept down her back and across her waist before coming to rest on her thigh.
“Angus?”
“Dae ye want me to stop, lass?” He asked, his voice even more grave than before. His words were gracious but his eyes, trained on her lips, were hungry and his hold on her was possessive.
Did she want him to stop? Would she regret this when the cold light of day slithered in? There was a good chance but she felt disconnected with logic at the moment and was running on emotion. “No.”
He smiled and ran his knuckles over her cheek. He kissed there before trailing his lips to hers. Her mouth was taken again before she could take another breath. Her hands were in his thick hair and his kiss burned. His tongue was tangling with hers in a smooth dance.
Dizzy, Magdalene pulled back to take in a breath and the emotions in Angus’ eyes sent nervousness racketing through her body. She was terribly confused by her feelings, unable to understand why she had gone from shying away from men to craving Angus’ presence.
The Laird pressed his cheek to hers and whispered. “Stay here.”
Softly, he shifted her to the ground and went to get the salvageable parts of the blankets. A soft shiver ran over her from a quick breeze and then Angus was back, sitting and taking her onto his body while draping the blanket over her. “Sleep right here, sweeting.”
Sweeting… that’s a new endearment… I like it. Resting just over his heart, Magdalene let the steady beat there lull her back to sleep.
Chapter 10
A strange emptiness was on Angus' chest and arms, that had once held the soft, pliable body of the lovely Magdalene. He blinked his eyes open and stared dumbly down at his lone self. He then looked around and there was no sign of her. Perhaps she had gone off to relieve herself. He stood and looked around and saw her horse was gone, too.
Launching to his feet, Angus stomped on the smoldering remains of the fire and went to Titan. He scowled at the horse as if the animal was to blame for not keeping Magdalene there. He saddled his horse quickly and rode off, knowing the lass would only be brave enough to stick to the road.
But why had she run?
That question doubled back on itself as he rode and scanned the road for her. The sun was getting higher in the sky, and as it mounted, so grew his level of desperation to find her. Had me kiss been that disturbing to make her run off? His fingers drifted to his mouth, never had he felt such fire in a kiss in his life and he had kissed a fair number of women back in his careless days.
He was halfway to the outskirts of Glen Urquhart when he spotted her on the horizon. She was seated on her horse but the mare was walking instead of trotting and her head was down.
He spurred Titan and when the thundering of his horse’s hooves sounded, she jerked her head up and fear was painted there before she suddenly sagged into resignation.
He came close to her, as she had reined in the horse to a stop. Angus’ angered fear petered out into pity. The lass looked tortured, beleaguered with…guilt? Fear, worry, or regret maybe? Angus could deal with the first three but regret was not one he was going to stomach as he did not regret one moment of it.
He reined Titan in and hopped off him to go to her side. Magdalene had not moved but her head was down and her face was a mottled mix of embarrassed red and pale patches of shame. The horse shifted under her and Angus grasped the reins.
“Lass?” He asked quietly while reaching for her. “Did I do anything to scare ye? Why did ye have to run?”
Her hands were twisting on her lap and Angus could see her thumbnail was now bitten and ragged. “I, I got scared but not because of you. Your kiss made me feel something that I... you have to understand, I…I’ve seen what men and women do to be intimate. I just don’t have any experience with it myself. I’m a bit scared of my own emotions.”
Angus held out a hand for her and she glanced at it nervously, then took it. He helped her off the horse and she sank into his hold. He rested his chin on top of her head. Her hair was loose and blew pell-mell all around her face as Angus pulled her closer.
“Ye dinnae have to tell me. I feel it, too. It will all rest with ye. If ye would like to explore where it takes us ye’ll make me a happy man but I willnae force ye,” he said.
“It is normal to feel that warm…all over?” Magdalene whispered in his chest.
He grinned in her hair, “Depends on who you feel it with.”
She pulled away and narrowed her eyes, “You know who I mean…it’s you. When you kissed me, I felt warm, too warm, and scared. It was too intense for me. And when I fell asleep on you, I got even more scared. I did not know how to put my feelings in order so I ran.”
“Ah, lass,” Angus sighed near her ear. “I ken, but that doesnae mean ye need to run away from it. It’s terrifying I ken, but some of the most terrifying things can be the best things, too.”
“What are you saying?” she asked quietly.
“Let’s take this one step at a time, lass,” Angus said cautiously, hoping she would take what he was offering. “For as long as we can do so.”
“That might not be long enough,” Magdalene said, her words mirroring Angus’ thoughts.
“Aye,” Angus said, admiring her. She was so beautiful. Her hair was uncombed and wild, but she was as breathtaking as ever. How long can me control last with her?
He had begun to know her by their long conversations but
there was still a milestone he had not reached with her yet. He had gained her trust, felt her reaction to his touch, and had earned her respect but…there was something else that he needed to get. He needed her to be sure in what she wanted. He’d never touch her otherwise.
He wanted to trace his hands over every inch of her body but held himself back, she had to come to him first and he just had to be patient for her to do so.
Magdalene’s arms reached up and pulled him in closer. Angus leaned in and when her body met his, he could feel the shiver than ran down her entire body. With her palms resting on his chest, her arm was bent at the elbow, and he ran his fingertips down the tender underside of her arm, grinning at her shiver.
His head tilted to the side, “Let’s get ye on the horse, lassie, and get us home.”
Nodding, she allowed him to place her back on the horse before he got on his. They went to the village resting just under Glen Urquhart and were able to find an Inn to stop for a hot tea and warm meal. He offered to rent a room for her but she declined. “You said we’d be at your home soon. I don’t think it makes any sense to wait.”
Angus wanted to press that it would be best for her to rest. What lady wouldn’t want to? Her body must be aching from hours upon hours of riding and the pain of her bruises from her attack. Her cheek was getting darker and he could see the tiredness in her eyes but even though wary, he could see that she was resolute. The lady had ridden from England to Scotland, basically by herself. Perhaps she wanted to stop delaying and get to a place she could rest peacefully.
“It will be sooner if we did nae stay,” Angus said half-heartedly. “But I ken we might have to spend a night before we get there.”
“I still want to go.”
He reached up and plucked a thick lock of her hair away from her cheek. It was tangled and heavy with dirt from the road. “Aye, let’s get ye to me home so ye can get a bath and a good nights’ sleep.”
“The loch…Ness, are you sure about that?” she asked.
He grinned, “I swear on me life, if ye see a monster I’ll fight it meself.”
Her eyes narrowed into a mild glare. “Dare you mock me?”
“I dare,” he said unrepentantly. “Let me show ye there is nothing to worry about.”
They took a gentle decline to the loch’s banks, surrounded by pine and birchwood. From the flat she could see a massive Castle rising from the rocky shoreline. They were approaching from the back but the dark tower and high walls were simply breathtaking.
“We’d have to take a boat to see the front, lass,” Angus said. “As for now we can only follow the loch.”
They went through the lightly wooded spans of land and took a trail through the scrubby grass, bracken, and under-shrubs at the side of the loch. When they broke through a section Magdalene had to stop and marvel.
The sun gleaming off the water rendered the loch tranquil and haunting. The clear blue deepened to darker indigo to the far half of the loch where the hill rose. The water looked deep and a breeze blowing from the water had a cold chill to it.
Angus came near her. “‘Tis Loch Ness, lass. The gem of Scotland.”
“I can see why,” she admitted. “It’s beautiful.”
“Just remember to keep an eye out for the beast,” Angus teased. “I’d like for me name to go down in the history books for killing it.”
The calm mood was broken and she glared at him. “You’re insufferable.”
He laughed.
Angus frowned at the silent Magdalene, her jaw was tight, and she looked fairly upset. As they neared the outskirts of the village leading to his home a day after they had seen Loch Ness, he stopped her and circled her horse with his to look into her eyes. He was wrong, she was not upset, she was worried.
“What’s bothering ye, lass?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, even as her paling expression betrayed her. Her shoulders were in a line and her fingers, grasping the reins, looked bloodless.
He reached over and pried her left hand from the reins. Opening it, he looked at the white palm, colorless from her tight grip. They had to be numb, too. “Calm down, lass. No one is going to hurt ye.”
“That’s…” She hesitated then her breath left in a rush, “That’s not what I am afraid of.”
“What is it then?” Angus asked while using his thumb to massage blood and life back into her hand. Her cheeks hinted red and he felt it absurdly fetching.
“You left to go to the city alone,” she said anxiously. “And now you’re coming back to your home with me, an Englishwoman. A strange Englishwoman. What will people think?”
“Nothin’,” Angus said, hoping she would believe him.
“Don’t try to trick me, Angus,” she said, her voice wavering. “You’re the Laird, surely, someone is going to have something to say. No one is that selfless.”
This woman could see through him like water in a pool. “All right,” he relented. “There will be some words and maybe some rumors but no one would dare slander me or ye for that matter.”
“But—”
“But nothin’ lass,” Angus said, his eyebrows lowering as he tried to make her believe him. “Ye will be fine when we get there. I promise ye.”
She still looked pale with insecurity but nodded and slowly retracted her hand from his to grasp the reins again. “I trust you.”
Warmth curled around his heart at those three simple words—I trust you. He vowed within himself to make sure she could trust him for as long as she was near him.
“Then believe me when I say ye’ll be fine,” Angus said with a smile, turning Titan back around. “Just keep yer head up and meet the eyes on anyone who meets yers with a nod. Lookin’ down will make ye look like ye have somethin’ to be ashamed off, which ye dinnae.”
She took in a deep shuddering breath, “I will.”
Taking the road again, they walked their horses up the steadily increasing incline that was a natural barrier from the floods that sometimes came from the nearby lochs.
The village resting at the foot of the Williamson stronghold was five miles of flat land with buildings that were made of forest wood. Some of the houses were dulled, showing their age as older, and then there were newer ones, the boards gleaming golden in the sunlight.
Villagers were out and about, women, clad in gowns and aprons, were hauling washing baskets and the rare man, clad in dirt-stained clothes, was hauling farming tools along with him. A few soldiers, clothed in leather armor, were patrolling the streets with their hands resting on their swords.
The fighters nodded and saluted him while other men called out to him by his title. Greeting them all, he could see their inquisitive gazes slide from him to Magdalene but no one spoke a word. Thank God. Magdalene was obeying his words, she kept her head up and was looking forward, pausing to give a nod or two. He felt proud.
Leading Titan up to the incline where his clan home rested, Angus felt relief course through him when the rise of the five-story black-stone citadel peaked over the horizon. The hooves of their horses were thudding over the long wooden drawbridge, the length of it laying over deep gutters that were used to catch hot tar in older warring days.
The guards bowed as they got to the inner gate and he acknowledged them while looking at Magdalene for her reaction. She was gazing silently up at the towers towards the top of the keep. Ravens were perched on the jutting tower and were looking down on them with lofty condescension.
Angus lifted off from Titan and went over to Magdalene to help her off. She was silent as he helped her off the horse, and he stood by her as she stomped feeling back into her legs.
“Ready, lass?” He asked softly. He could see her hesitation but she had come this far already, they couldn’t turn back.
“I think—”
“Yer here!” The loud yell of Ailsa cut off Magdalene’s answer and he spun to see his sister running to him, her dark red-brown hair in a braid, trailing after as she sprinted. Angus instantly put himself
between his breeches-clad sister and Magdalene.
Ailsa skidded to a stop, scowling and crossing her shirt-clad arms. “Yer nae fun.”
“And ye are nae jumping on me,” Angus ordered as Ailsa peered around him. “Did ye go raiding me room again, ‘cause that shirt looks very familiar.”
The girl rolled her eyes and ignored his question. “Who’s this?”
Stepping aside, Angus made sure to place a bracing hand on Magdalene’s lower back. “Ailsa, this is Miss Magdalene Crompton. Lass, this is the weed I told ye about, me sister Ailsa.”
“Just Magdalene,” she said quietly. “No Miss, please.”
The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 9