The Warrior's Bride

by Amanda Scott

  Muriella murmured, “I, too, trust Tùr Meiloach. They must still be here.”

  Seeing no point in commenting, Rob said to Andrew, “The lass wants a bath, sir. If you will give the orders, I’ll see her to her chamber. I want a word with her.”

  “I dinna doubt that,” Andrew said, grinning again. “I’ll tell them to fetch your things from the cottage and take them up there, too.”

  Andrew’s last few words made Murie feel utterly helpless. Of course, her husband would share her room. Her father would certainly not send him back to Mag’s cottage. More likely, Mag, Andrena, and wee Molly would sleep there, leaving Lina and Lizzie to share Mag and Dree’s room in the tower and the lady Margaret Galbraith to sleep in the room across the landing from Murie’s.

  With a sigh, she went upstairs ahead of Rob and entered her bedchamber. When he walked in behind her and shut the door, the room closed in on her more than it ever had before, even when she had shared it with both Dree and Lina.

  “You do fill up a room, sir,” she said, striving to sound as if his presence did not disturb her. “My father thinks you mean to scold me. I hope you won’t.”

  He put both hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You have nowt to fear, lass. Not here, not tonight. I don’t know how much you know about coupling or the duties of a wife to her husband, but…” He paused.

  “I made Andrena tell me what happens on a wedding night after she married Mag,” Murie said, knowing that he was seeking words to explain. “I’m not sure I understand it all, but Dree did say that coupling might be uncomfortable, even painful, the first time.”

  “You don’t need to worry about it tonight, lass. I don’t want you to be frightened or concerned about that.”

  “But if it’s the usual thing, why should I be frightened? Forbye, they will ask me about it! Don’t you want me? I mean, I know you don’t want me for your wife. But if, as you say, we are bound together, do you mean that you don’t want children?”

  “Nowt of the sort,” he said, almost fiercely and unconsciously echoing her father. “I just don’t want to go too fast. I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

  “You don’t want me.”

  In reply, to her shock, his fingers tightened bruisingly on her shoulders and he pulled her close to him, saying, “You are dead wrong about that.” One large, warm hand cupped her chin, raised it, and his lips came down firmly on hers.

  His were warm, albeit hard at first, and the hand that cupped her chin moved to grip the back of her head instead, as if he thought she might pull away.

  He need not have worried about that, though, because with the first touch of his lips on hers, melting warmth spread through every cell of her, and she could not have pulled away had she wanted to. Her body responded to his at once and in ways she had never known before or expected.

  Sensations roared through her until she could scarcely tell if she was still standing. Realizing that her hands remained at her sides, just dangling there, she put both of them at his waist to steady herself.

  The hand that still gripped her right shoulder shifted to her back.

  Then his tongue touched her lips as if he wanted to taste her. And her tongue, evidently deciding on its own to taste his, quickly did so. Strangely, she did not feel at all daring. She simply felt as if she were free to do what she wanted to do.

  Hearing her moan deep in her throat, Rob felt a hunger unlike any he had known for a woman before. He would have liked to scoop her into his arms and carry her to her bed. But men would soon bring her tub and hot water, her maid would come, and he had promised that he would not hurt or frighten her.

  Her slender body felt soft and supple, and he hoped he had not bruised her shoulders. He had not meant to grab her so tightly, but he could not have borne to let her think he didn’t want her. Sakes, he had wanted her since the day he’d found her in the cottage in the same pink kirtle she wore now, rucked up to her thighs.

  And heaven knew he wanted her now, more than he had wanted any woman since the night he had first learned about coupling. Even so, he knew that his size and strength had frightened some experienced women and at least one maiden.

  Her father had said that they were both responsible for their marriage. He was right about that, but Rob did not blame Muriella for her part in it. She had done what she thought she had to do, out of desperation. Nor would he blame himself for refusing to contradict her declaration. Not only would that have reflected on his personal sense of honor, it would also have condemned her to marry Dougal.

  So he was reaping the consequences of his actions. Standing as he was now, with her in his arms, those consequences were having a strong effect on him, especially certain parts of him, one in particular.

  She tasted sweet and a bit salty, which suited her. He did not want to stop kissing her, but he knew that if she stimulated him much more, he would have to fight hard later to keep his promise to her and to himself.

  Regretfully, he ended the kiss and set her back on her heels.

  “That was nice,” she said. “If my father is having your things brought here, I expect that means you will be sleeping in my bed.”

  “Likely, it does,” he agreed. “But as I told you, you have nowt to fear.”

  For a moment, she looked dismayed, but before he could ask her to explain, a rap at the door signaled the arrival of the men with her tub and hot water.

  Rob opened the door for them and found himself face to face with a buxom young, rosy-cheeked lass in a simple blue kirtle and a white cap that covered her hair. Behind her came two gillies with Muriella’s bathtub and hot water.

  “I be Tibby, sir,” the lass said. “The laird did tell me tae come up and help the lady Murie with her bath.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to that,” Rob said, and fled.

  Chapter 13

  Muriella stared at the doorway after Rob vanished, trying to make sense of the feelings that had filled her from the moment he’d put his hands on her.

  “Mistress,” Tibby said. “Your water be ready.”

  Startled, Murie realized that despite staring at the doorway, she had apparently failed to note the departure of the two gillies through it. Recovering her wits, she shut the door and said, “I’ll wear the blue gown that Lady Lina made for me the last time she was here, Tibby.”

  “Aye, but first we’ll have ye out o’ this one,” Tibby said. “Never tell me ye’ve had this pink kirtle on since I put ye in it m’self nigh a sennight ago.”

  Murie reassured her but added that she did not want to talk about her ordeal. “I just want to get clean and go downstairs to see everyone.”

  After hurrying through her bath and dressing, Murie returned to the hall to find her family awaiting her at the high table. Andrew stood at the central place, as usual. Her mother, sisters, Lady Margaret, and Lizzie stood to his left and Rob at his right. Their steward, Malcolm Wylie, was stepping down from the dais.

  Murie stopped him. “Is Annie in the tower, Malcolm?” she asked.

  “Nay, m’lady. She’s awa’ to our cottage. Did ye want her?”

  “Not tonight, but do tell her I’ve returned safely. She must have worried.”

  “Aye, we all did, m’lady,” he said with a warm smile. “Welcome home.”

  Thanking him, she stepped onto the dais and took her place beside Lina, who stood next to Dree. Their places had been customary for as long as Murie could remember, until Lina moved to Dumbarton. As guests, Lady Margaret stood next to their mother and fifteen-year-old Lizzie occupied the end place, at Murie’s left.

  Lizzie’s simple white veil did little to conceal her long, thick mass of red-orange curls. Turning with a grin, she said quietly to Murie, “I heard you were captive at Arrochar, with the evil Dougal. Is he as handsome as ever?”

  Murie grimaced. “I thought he was horrid. I’m just thankful to be home.”

  “And glad to be Rob MacAulay’s lady, aye?” Lina murmured from Murie’s right. “You should know
that we stand in our usual places only by Mam’s orders.”

  “Mercy, what do you mean?”

  “Since Rob’s father is gone, you must know that he is now Lord MacAulay. As his baroness, you now outrank Dree and me and are entitled to sit at Mam’s left.”

  Uncertain of her feelings about that, although she felt a brief urge to tease Lina, Murie said only, “I’m glad Father told everyone what happened. I dreaded the thought of having to explain it to all of you by myself. It was bad enough that MacAu—that Rob made me tell Father and Mam what I did.”

  “I like Rob,” Lina confided. “He has been a gey good friend to Ian and me, and to Mag and Dree, too. He will make you a good husband, I think. Although,” she added with a chuckle, “if I recall aright, last year he said he did not mean to marry any woman until he had naught of greater interest to do.”

  “I did not think you or Dree and Mag would be here yet,” Murie said to divert her from that topic. “I did not even sense that you had come home.”

  “We sensed your fears, of course, especially Monday night,” Lina said. “I have never been so glad to see Mag or Dree as I was when they came to fetch me. Ian would have disliked sending me alone. Your own senses were likely fixed on more vital matters, but we do want to hear about all that happened at Arro—”

  “Shhh,” Murie whispered. “Father is going to say the grace.”

  When he finished and they had taken their seats, Andrena leaned forward to see Murie past Lina and said, “Imagine, I thought my wedding was unexpected!”

  “How is Wee Molly?” Murie asked swiftly, knowing that the subject of their tiny daughter was one that never failed to divert either Dree or Mag.

  It succeeded, as always, for Andrena was eager to share her daughter’s latest accomplishments with them. But, after a time, Lina said, “You know, Murie, you’ll have to tell us everything in time. Our curiosity is as great now as yours ever is.”

  “Perhaps later, when we retire with Mam to the solar.”

  But when the ladies Aubrey and Margaret stood to signal that it was time for the ladies to leave the table, Rob also rose.

  Since Murie had not seen or heard him excuse himself to Andrew, she suspected that the two had already discussed whatever Rob meant to do. She felt an unusual eagerness when he approached and extended a hand to her.

  When she put her hand in his, he gave it a gentle tug as he said to Lady Aubrey, “Prithee, excuse Muriella, my lady. We have had a long day and will have another on the morrow when we take ship to Ardincaple.”

  Lady Aubrey consented with a smile, and Lady Margaret, Dree, Lina, and Lizzie all bade them goodnight in a chorus while Andrew silently beamed.

  Although Murie felt self-conscious as she left the dais with Rob, her anticipation of what might lie ahead increased as they ascended the stairs. She tried to recall all that Dree had said about her wedding night. Some of the details had sounded odd then. Now, as she imagined Rob doing things to her that Mag had done with Dree, heat tingled through her body from its center outward.

  When they reached her landing and Rob leaned past her to open the door, she realized with a start that if he’d spoken on the way up she had not heard him. With a less enticing jolt, she remembered the Brehon’s order that he punish her, and Rob’s agreeing—nay, giving the Brehon his word that he would. Surely, he would not…

  Swallowing hard, she entered her bedchamber to find a half-dozen candles lit, the shutters closed, and the bedclothes invitingly turned down.

  Turning to Rob, she said, “Did my father say we should leave the table?”

  “Aye, because he knows I want to get an early start tomorrow,” Rob said. “Also, he would like us to consummate our marriage tonight. But as I told you earlier, we can delay that for a short time at least.”

  She cocked her head. “But we will sleep in the same bed, aye?”

  Even by candlelight, she saw his cheeks redden.

  “I’m not sure I should sleep with you, lass,” he said softly. “I do mean well, but you are gey enticing to me.”

  “If I am to be your wife,” she said, relieved and warily delighted to hear him say again that she attracted him, “I want to be your wife in every way. Also, as I told you earlier, my sisters will ask me how it went, and they always know if I lie. So, if you are delaying because you fear I’ll dislike it, then I reject your notion of consequences, sir. Consummation is one of the consequences of marriage, is it not? I begin to think that you are the one who fears it, but surely that cannot be so.”

  A twinkle lit his eyes, and her wariness fled.

  Shaking his head, he patted the bed and said, “Sit, lass. I can think better and will likely explain my thoughts more clearly if we sit and do not touch each other.”

  “It makes me feel strange all over when you touch me,” she said, climbing onto the high bed and sitting with her lower legs over the side. “Does it make you feel the same way if I touch you?”

  “Not being female, I cannot tell you if it is the same,” he replied, sitting beside her. “But if the strangeness you feel is pleasant, then it is similar.”

  “It is more than pleasant,” she said. “When are you going to kiss me again?”

  “Lassie, do you want to hear what I have to say to you or not?”

  Cocking her head a little as she turned and drew her knees up so she could face him, she considered the question.

  Unabashedly looking at her breasts, the tops of which rose plumply above her low-cut bodice, he said gruffly, “Sakes, lass, do not tempt me further.”

  “I want to know what you are thinking,” she said as solemnly as she could, wondering how he could look so serious one moment and then surprise her with a twinkle in his eyes the next. “You did say that if you were wooing me, you would tell me why you had decided not to inflict yourself on any woman. Although you have not wooed me, Robert, we are married. So, will you tell me now?”

  Rob had expected the question, albeit not at just that moment. He was reluctant to tell her, but he knew she had a right to know. Moreover, he knew she would not hide what she was thinking as he told her. Her animated face revealed her thoughts as clearly as if she said each one aloud.

  Remembering his first impression of her—that she was childish—he nearly chuckled. She was not a child but a most enticing young woman. Nevertheless, she would require a firm hand, because she had gone her own way for too long.

  That, though, was a subject for another time, and he owed her the plain truth now. So, drawing a breath, he said, “My parents tried to betroth me some years ago to the daughter of another nobleman.”

  “How old were you?” she asked. “Who is she? Might I know her?”

  “One question at a time, if you please,” he said. “Her name is irrelevant, and I am sure you do not know her. Sithee, I was fourteen and just beginning serious training as a warrior. I had nowt in mind save that training. I had practiced archery, wrestling, and other such warrior’s sports since early childhood. At fourteen, I had no interest in females or in the position I would one day inherit.”

  A spasm of pain shot through him when his father’s image arose then in his mind. Rob swallowed carefully and was sure that he had concealed the emotion until she put her hand gently on his thigh. Although she did not speak, the compassion he felt from her was nearly his undoing.

  Swallowing again, he said, “I met her only twice. Our parents thought that letting us get to know each other would lead naturally to the betrothal they sought. It didn’t. She no sooner saw me, the first time we met, than she burst into tears.”

  “Mercy, why?”

  “I don’t know. I was tall for my age but still thin and gawky, hardly what any warrior would call large. But she said I was too big and strong, and she did not want a giant for a husband. She reacted the same way the next time we met.”

  “Sakes, how old was she?”

  “Thirteen the first time, fourteen the next. Our parents did not expect us to marry straightaway, though. Our
betrothal was to be two or three years long, and after we married, we were to live at Ardincaple. She had nowt to fear.”

  “She sounds plain daft to me,” Muriella said with a spark in her eyes.

  Her annoyance instantly eased his apprehension. “Does she?”

  “Aye, but perhaps she was especially small.”

  “In size, she was much like you but not as nicely curved.”

  “Well, although you do fill up this room, you don’t usually seem overlarge to me,” she said. “Forbye, I have lived with Magnus Mòr, and no one looks large next to him. How did you end it?”

  Looking toward the shuttered window, he drew another breath. Then, forcing himself to meet her quizzical gaze, he said, “I didn’t. She hated and feared me so much that, to avoid a third meeting, she jumped from her window and died.”

  “Och, poor lassie!” Muriella exclaimed. “She does sound daft, though,” she added a moment later. “And I still cannot see how it was your fault. More likely, it was something that someone else said or did, unless… Were you rude to her?”

  Rob winced at that question. “I took good care to be polite,” he said evenly.

  “I see,” Muriella said with a wry smile. “I take great care to be polite to Lady Margaret, too. But when she is rude to me…” She shrugged and the smile turned rueful. “Mam is forever telling me that I must have more consideration, but when a person, especially one older than oneself, says she believes in being forthright and then carps at one, one feels as if one ought to be able to speak plainly to her. But if I do, Lady Margaret takes offense. I expect your situation was different, though.”

  “Just a trifle,” he said with a rueful smile that probably matched hers.

  Murie wanted to hug him, but although he was her husband, she felt as if she would be taking a great liberty if she did. Otherwise, she felt at ease with him.

  “I have never had such a conversation with a man before,” she said frankly. “I suppose if I’d had brothers—from childhood, I mean, not good-brothers who are years older than I am—I might have talked so with them.”