The Highlander Series

by Maya Banks

  “Better, wife. But not good enough.”

  Deciding she’d had enough of that smug superiority, she ducked low and launched herself at him. She lined up her shoulder and hit him right below the waist.

  He let out a string of curses that blistered her ears. Then he slipped to his knees, his hand cupping his cods. His sword fell from his other hand and landed in the snow.

  Rionna stumbled back, retrieved her sword, and then put the tip to his neck. “Do you yield?”

  “Hell yes, I yield or you’ll likely slice off what’s left of my cods.”

  The strain in his voice and the pain creasing his forehead might have ordinarily concerned her, but then she remembered the hours of hell he’d just put her through and all sympathy disappeared.

  Gannon stepped forward, wheezing with laughter. Caelen sent him a dark scowl.

  “Shut the hell up, Gannon.”

  Gannon let out another guffaw and then pounded Rionna on the back, nearly knocking her to the ground. “And that, my lady, is how you fell a warrior.”

  “Did you tell her to rearrange my balls?” Caelen demanded.

  “Nay. I only told her to go on the offensive. I’d say she thinks well on her feet.”

  “Sweet Jesu,” Caelen said as he struggled to his feet. “I was rather fond of that portion of my anatomy, wife.”

  Rionna grinned cheekily and then leaned close to Caelen so Gannon wouldn’t overhear. “So was I. I do hope there’s no permanent damage.”

  “Disrespectful baggage,” Caelen complained. “ ’Tis a situation I’ll remedy later.”

  Then he touched her cheek where one fading bruise still smudged her skin. “Do your injuries still pain you? Did you overreach today with your training?”

  “Nay,” she whispered. “ ’Tis naught but a twinge now and then. ’Tis been a fortnight and I can see near to perfect from my eye again.”

  “Laird! A messenger approaches the gates!”

  Caelen shoved her against Gannon and picked up his sword from the snow. “Take her inside at once and alert the rest of the men.”

  Knowing this wasn’t the time to protest, Rionna allowed Gannon to hustle her inside the keep. He relinquished her in the hall next to the fire and then he shouted orders that were echoed throughout the keep.

  “My lady, what is about?” Sarah asked as she hurried into the hall.

  “I know not, Sarah. A messenger approaches our gate. We’ll know when the laird tells us what is happening.”

  “Sit then and let me bring you hot broth. You tremble with cold and your clothing is wet through. Warm yourself by the fire before you catch your death of cold.”

  Rionna looked down at her bedraggled clothing and shook her head ruefully. She’d put in a hard day’s work. She hadn’t even registered the dampness spreading over her clothing, but now that Sarah had mentioned it, Rionna could feel the chill wrought by the wet material clinging to her body.

  She moved closer to the fire and stretched out her hands as the keep buzzed with activity around her. She sighed as some of the heat thawed her fingertips and warmth traveled up her arms.

  She turned when she heard her husband’s footsteps. How quickly she’d become attuned to him. She knew even with her back turned that he’d entered the room.

  “Is aught amiss?” she asked.

  “Nay. ’Twas a McCabe man bearing a message from my brother. He is to arrive soon and requested shelter. He travels to Neamh Álainn with Mairin, Crispen, and Isabel.”

  “In this weather?”

  It shocked Rionna that Ewan would chance traveling in such conditions when Isabel was so young.

  “He fears waiting longer. I sent him word of your attack and the message they delivered. He wants them safely ensconced at Neamh Álainn where he can avail himself of the contingent of soldiers who have guarded the holding since Alexander’s death.”

  “I would excuse myself to see to their arrival,” Rionna murmured.

  Caelen nodded then turned to Gannon. The two men strode from the hall, deep in conversation. Rionna took a deep breath and tried to recall the few lessons that Sarah had imparted. She instructed the women to ready food and drink. Thank God, Caelen had been successful in his hunt. Now they wouldn’t shame Caelen in front of his kin by setting an inferior table.

  She set several of the women to cleaning the hall. The fire was built up and the furs shoved aside to usher in cleaner, sweet-smelling air.

  Content that the women knew their tasks and would perform them quickly, Rionna hurried up the stairs to her chamber to change her clothing.

  She wet cloths in the washbasin and wiped the sweat and dirt from her face and body. She shivered as chill bumps dotted her damp flesh and she hurried to pull on a gown from her wardrobe. It was the first opportunity she’d had to wear one of the dresses Sarah and the other women had altered for her and she was well satisfied with the result.

  Caelen would find no fault with her appearance. She looked every bit the lady of the keep. He had made concessions—important concessions—for her, and she felt compelled to do the same for him.

  She sat by the fire and brushed out her hair until it sparkled and shone like liquid gold. Then she plaited the long tresses and used a leather tie to secure the end.

  Satisfied that she looked presentable, she rose and hurried back down to oversee the preparations.

  The hall was busy as the tables and floors were hurriedly cleaned. Just airing the room out had made a remarkable difference.

  “Venison stew is being warmed and we have several loaves of bread leftover from the noon meal. We even have a bit of cheese left that I put back for just such an occasion,” Sarah told Rionna.

  “And ale? Have we a sufficient amount for our guests? Have one of the men melt some snow for fresh water.”

  Sarah nodded and hurried away once more.

  An hour later, Caelen strode back into the hall and searched out Rionna. His eyes widened and the glint of approval warmed her to her toes.

  “They’re riding to our gate now. Gannon and I will go out to greet them. You stay inside where it’s warm.”

  She smiled up at him and then nodded.

  Caelen sniffed the air appreciatively and then glanced around the hall. Then he leaned in and brushed his mouth over her temple. “Thank you for making my brother and his wife welcome.”

  An odd flutter began in her belly and worked its way up to her throat as he walked away.

  “Warm some cider in case Lady McCabe would like a hot drink by the fire,” Rionna said to Sarah. “And have ale ready to pour for the men.”

  Rionna paced back and forth as she waited for Caelen to return with his guests. She’d never suffered such unease when she and her father had traveled to McCabe land. But she hadn’t cared about impressing them. Such was not the case now. They were coming to her keep, her home, and how they viewed her reflected on Caelen, and it was suddenly all important to her not to shame her husband.

  She wanted him to be proud of her, to look upon her with favor and not find fault.

  Several long moments later, the door burst open and Ewan McCabe hurried inside with Mairin and his son, Crispen, tucked against his side. Rionna rushed forward to take Mairin’s arm.

  “Come by the fire before you unwrap the babe,” Rionna urged. “I have cider waiting.”

  Ewan took Crispen with him to the table where the men had already gathered, as Rionna ushered Mairin toward the hearth.

  Mairin gifted her with a sweet smile. “ ’Tis good of you to offer, Rionna. ’Tis the truth I’m cold to my bones.”

  She and Mairin stopped in front of the fire and Mairin began unwrapping the heavy furs from around her. Nestled against her bosom was baby Isabel, sound asleep, looking remarkably unperturbed by all the goings on.

  Rionna was transfixed by the babe. She was a beautiful lass, with a head full of black hair just like her parents. Tiny, delicate features and a bow-shaped mouth.

  Mairin reached out to gently touch Rio
nna’s eye. Startled, Rionna drew away and stared at the other woman.

  “ ’Tis sorry I am you were drawn into our fight,” Mairin said in a low voice. “Caelen said you were badly beaten.”

  Rionna pressed her lips together in a frown. “Nay, ’tis my fight as well. I’m married to a McCabe.”

  Mairin smiled. “Caelen is lucky to have one as fierce as you. I worried so about him leaving our clan to become laird here, but I think my worry is misplaced. You’ll keep him safe.”

  “Aye, I will. I’ll not let harm come to him, if I can help it.”

  Mairin squeezed Rionna’s hand and then let out a weary sigh that spurred Rionna to action. “Please do sit,” she urged Mairin.

  Mairin nodded gratefully. “Isabel will be wanting her meal soon. We’ve traveled since yesterday morn. Ewan was afraid to stop.”

  Rionna waved to one of the men standing nearby and bid him to add wood to the fire. Then she sent one of the women for cider.

  “The meal will soon be served,” she told Mairin.

  “Don’t think me ungrateful, but ’tis the truth I’d prefer to sit by the fire. I’m too tired to go to the table and ’twill be more comfortable here holding Isabel.”

  “I’ll sit with you and hold the babe while you eat,” Rionna replied. “The men can have the table so they can discuss matters. ’Tis likely they’ll be at it all night. You and I can escape upstairs and they’ll never notice.”

  Mairin chuckled. “Aye, I think you’re right. Thank you, Rionna. You’re sweet to look after me so.”

  Rionna’s cheeks warmed at the other woman’s praise. She glanced over at Caelen, expecting to find him deep in conversation with his brother, but to her surprise, she found him watching her and Mairin, a most peculiar expression on his face.

  She smiled hesitantly. He nodded in her direction, but his gaze continued to linger as she looked away.

  “You must tell me how marriage is suiting you, Rionna. I must confess you look quite well. And … happy. You have a glow about you that was absent before. You’ve always been a beautiful lass, but now you outshine the sun.”

  Flustered by Mairin’s words, Rionna ducked her head and then reached clumsily for Isabel when Sarah arrived with cider and a trencher for Mairin.

  The babe squawked in protest but then nuzzled against Rionna’s breast when Rionna held her close. Mairin chuckled. “She’s not a picky child. Any breast will do. ’Tis amusing to watch Ewan’s face when she roots against his chest.”

  Rionna laughed softly and touched her fingertip to Isabel’s tiny palm. Isabel promptly curled her fingers tight around Rionna’s finger and waved it about as her unfocused gaze found Rionna.

  “She’s just beautiful, Mairin.” Rionna sighed.

  “I thank you. She is a true treasure. Ewan and I delight in her every day.”

  It was hard to hold Isabel and not imagine holding her own babe in her arms one day. A son or daughter with Caelen’s green eyes. Aye, that would be perfect.

  Mayhap she was already breeding.

  The thought sent a jolt through her veins, shocking in its discovery.

  Could she be carrying his child already? It had been some weeks since they’d arrived here on McDonald land. Even now, a child could be growing in her womb.

  She slid her hand from Isabel’s bottom to her flat belly and splayed out her fingers. ’Twas a marvel she hadn’t considered it until now.

  Oh, she knew children were inevitable if God chose to bestow such a gift on them. But she hadn’t considered that it could happen so soon, even though Caelen had all but guaranteed she’d deliver a child within a year of their marriage.

  She’d thought his prideful statement to be a natural boast of a newly married man.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled as she contemplated the possibilities. She knew it was her duty to provide heirs for Caelen. ’Twas a duty she owed her clan as well, to provide them with the next laird.

  But ’twas God’s truth, she wasn’t sure she was up to the task quite yet.

  It wouldn’t cause her distress if ’twas a little while longer before her womb bore fruit.

  CHAPTER 20

  Rionna was fair to falling over by the time Caelen sought their chamber. She’d sat by the fire yawning for the past hour, waiting for him to come to bed.

  When he opened the door and stepped inside, he looked surprised to see her. Then a faint frown drew his brows together.

  “You shouldn’t have waited up for me. ’Tis late and you have need of your rest.”

  It would have been a thoughtful statement if he hadn’t accentuated it with that frown.

  Ignoring his gruffness, she rose and went to help him undress. He went still as she unlaced the leather ties of his trews. So still that she wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

  When her fingers brushed his firm belly, he flinched. She was sorely tempted to run her palm up his midriff to his chest, but she was going to properly attend him first.

  She guided him toward the chair she’d vacated by the fire and urged him down. He watched through half-lidded eyes as she tugged at his tunic and then pulled it over his head, baring his broad, hair-roughened chest.

  She sucked in her breath. The man was beautiful. Never had she seen his equal. She fingered a puckered scar across his right shoulder and slid her hand lower to a much older, nearly flat scar on his left flank. She frowned as she studied it. ’Twas a knife wound.

  “Someone stabbed you from behind,” she mused as she knelt to give it a closer look.

  He stiffened, his muscles coiling and going rigid. His profile was set in stone as he stared into the fire.

  “Aye.”

  She waited but he offered nothing more.

  “Who did this?”

  “No one of import.”

  She leaned forward and kissed the scar. He reacted in surprise, turning, his arm raised so he didn’t elbow her in the head. Then he lowered his hand to her hair and stroked his fingers through the strands.

  He ran his fingers over her jaw and then cupped her chin, tilting it so that she looked up at him. A teasing glint twinkled in his green eyes.

  “I barely recognize the woman before me. She’s acting almost like a wife. What has happened to my fierce warrior? I came in to a fine table. The lady of the keep directed the welcoming of my kin and she played hostess to my brother’s wife. And if that wasn’t enough, she awaited me in my chamber to attend me with a gentle hand and a soft mouth?”

  She scowled up at him. “ ’Tis true what they say of men.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Aye. They never know when to keep their mouths shut.”

  He chuckled and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip and then lowered his mouth to hers until they touched in a most gentle fashion.

  “I was proud of you this day, Rionna. You speak of having none of the social graces of a lady and yet you performed as a laird’s wife would be expected.”

  “I would not shame you in front of your kin,” she whispered.

  He kissed her again and then drew away to pull at his boots. When he was done, he sat there, laces undone at his waist, shirtless, his flesh gleaming in the firelight. He was a feast for her eyes and she was determined that on this night she’d have him.

  Her gaze skittered downward to the bulge at the apex of his thighs. With only a little encouragement, he would be free of his trews.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  Caelen regarded her lazily, the spark of amusement back in his gaze. “ ’Tis a universal truth that when a lass says she’s been thinking, a man ought to be wary.”

  She moved between his legs and ran her hand up his thigh to cup him intimately. “I was thinking that since I did harm to a portion of your anatomy you favored that I could make it up to you. But if you’re wary.…”

  He caught his breath. “Nay. Not wary. Not wary at all.” Then he reached down to cup her chin again, his thumb brushing over the spot where her br
uising was fading. “Are you sure ’tis something you wish to do, lass?”

  Her heart clenched at the concern in his voice. He’d treated her with the utmost care since her attack. He’d only touched her to offer comfort or to ensure himself that she was all right. It was almost as if he’d worried that he would frighten her or remind her in some way of the men who had hurt her.

  “ ’Tis my wish that you allow me to have my way this night.”

  “Your way? ’Tis the truth I’ll grant such a wish every night if you desire it.”

  She reached inside his clothing and caressed the long, rigid length of him. His breath hissed out in the silence. He gripped her shoulders with both hands and then abruptly stood. In a moment’s time he’d torn the offending material from his body and tossed it across the room.

  Her gaze slid up his body, illuminated by flame, so exquisitely rendered. The body of a warrior, not a lad. Heavily muscled. Scarred. Rough.

  At his groin, his manhood extended from the dark whorl of hair, thick and heavy.

  “ ’Tis a sight destined to seduce a man,” Caelen rasped as he stared down at her kneeling at his feet.

  She smiled. “You like a woman at your feet?”

  “I’m not a stupid man. Admitting such would be akin to cutting off my cods.”

  She shifted and rose up, her hands skimming along the outsides of his thighs. “But you like it.”

  He groaned when she cupped his sac and massaged the weight in her hand.

  “Aye, I like it. I like it very much. ’Tis no sweeter sight than you between my legs on your knees ready to pleasure me.”

  Tentatively she circled his length with her other hand and lightly caressed. ’Twas the truth that she’d begun this seduction, but she had no idea how to go through with it. Keeley hadn’t been overly detailed with the how. Just what to do in the beginning.

  Caelen was a man who valued control. He liked the sight of her on her knees enough. ’Twas clear he liked a submissive wife. ’Twas entirely possible that the best seduction she could give him would be to allow him to conduct it. And then she wouldn’t have to admit just how ignorant she was of such matters.