by Amanda Scott
Looking thoughtful, she led him to the next landing and one more after that before she gestured to one of two doors off the second landing.
“That is where I slept before Dougal captured us,” she said. “Lizzie and Murie shared that room yonder. I think this must be the one where Mag usually sleeps when he stays here, though. The bed is longer than any other one here.”
“If the bed suits Mag, it will suit me,” Ian said. “And he won’t sleep here tonight. He and Rob will take the prisoners to Dumbarton as soon as they’ve eaten.”
Leaning past her, he opened the bedchamber door and urged her inside. Following, he shut the door and bolted it.
The room was small, the bed against the wall to his left as long if not as wide as the one they had shared at Tùr Meiloach. The only other furniture was a washstand with the usual basin and ewer, a pair of wooden kists, and two stools flanking a small square table near the only window, across from the door.
“Now, lass,” he said, leaning against the door, “let’s have it.”
“What do you want me to say?
“I want you to tell me again about seeing your mother in the woods before you decided to follow her to her meeting with Dougal.”
“Faith, I didn’t know then that she went there to meet Dougal.”
“Don’t quibble. She did. He said he told her to bring the charters.”
“But she did not bring them. She had promised only to meet him.”
“So you asked her about that, did you?”
“Not exactly, but she said he threatened harm to us if she did not promise to meet him and that meeting him was all that she had promised to do.”
“Then she should have told Andrew, and plainly she did not. That, however, is his business and none of yours or mine. What you did today is my business, and I mean to get to the bottom of it. So, tell me everything that happened. What did you see? Describe it all to me. How did you feel?”
She hesitated, and he could not tell if she did so because she was sorting her thoughts or because she was trying to think how she might avoid the discussion.
“Don’t try me too far, lass. My temper is unreliable at the best of times, let alone on a day like this one has been. So sit on that stool and begin with what happened on our wedding night.”
Knowing that she had little choice, Lina gathered her dignity, called on her ability to compose herself, and obeyed him. When he drew up the second stool and sat facing her across the table, she described all that she could recall of the events.
For a time, as she talked, she expected him to interrupt her at any moment, as her father often did, to demand more detail. But Ian kept silent.
If, at times, he frowned or showed other indications of doubt, he controlled any urge to cross-question her, and she was grateful for his reticence. It allowed her to search her mind for details that she might not otherwise have thought to include.
After describing the scroll-like objects that Lady Aubrey had carried in her arms during the second episode, she hesitated until Ian frowned before she said hastily, “Mam was not carrying anything today. I did think at first that she might have such things under her shawl. But she had naught when we saw her with Dougal, so what came to pass today was not exactly as I had seen it before.”
“Did you think the scrolls were the Arrochar charters?”
“Not at the time,” she said. “Only after Dougal mentioned them today.”
“Had you seen such visions as you’ve described before our wedding night?”
“Never before that one,” she said. “I have experienced some strange things in the past, though. Things to which I paid little heed when they happened.”
“Such as what?”
“For one, when Peter and I rode after Lizzie that day. The sun was shining, but the woods ahead seemed to darken, as if day were turning to night.”
He looked darker himself, hearing that. “What did you think that meant?”
“I didn’t think about it then at all. I thought only of stopping Lizzie.”
“What do you think now?”
“That it meant danger lay ahead. That I should have heeded the warning and found some way to stop Lizzie sooner.” She was opening herself up to him. That felt dangerous, too, because he had revealed little to indicate what he was thinking.
“Did anything like that happen today?”
She froze, remembering. Then, warily, she met his gaze.
“I see,” he said grimly. “What else?”
She wondered if she ought to tell him about her ability to calm Lizzie or if, in truth, that ability had ever existed. She did not want to lie to him, nor, she decided then, did she want to tell him anything that she doubted herself.
“Well, lass? Art going to spit out whatever it is that’s hopping up and down on your tongue? Or must I—?”
“I don’t know if I believe it myself,” she admitted. “But if you must know, I’ll tell you. I think that, whilst we were captives, I was able at times to spread my calm to Lizzie. It even felt once as if, when I willed her to compose herself, she did.”
“Sakes, you do that to me all the time.”
Lina stared at him. “I don’t!”
“Aye, sure, you do. You did it just a few minutes ago.”
Ian wished he could take back his last few words, because he had not meant to challenge or interrupt her. That first sentence had slipped out. Then, when she contradicted him, he reacted as he always did when anyone challenged him.
Frowning, she shook her head. “By my troth, sir, I don’t know what you mean. I have not tried to do any such thing… not successfully, at all events.”
He allowed himself a wry smile at the rider and could see that his smile gave her no comfort. Nor should it have.
“Art sure that you do not try to impose your will on me?” he asked softly.
He could almost feel her temper rise at the suggestion that he might now take it into his head to doubt her. She said flatly, “I do not lie to you.”
“Forgive me if I begin to wonder whether you can will such things,” he said, matching her tone. “It was bad enough to learn that Dree can nearly hear my thoughts as I think them. To discover that I may have married a—”
“A what?” she demanded “I ken fine that some people have called Dree a witch. I also know that Mag has asked you not to call her Dree. But I will refrain from comment on that.”
A good thing that is, too, he thought.
“What I will say,” she went on tersely, “is that if you want to discuss what happened today in a civil—”
“I am always civil,” he snapped. “I was just reminding you that having one woman in the family who thinks she knows what I am thinking or feeling is bad enough. To be married to one who can toy with my emotions would be worse.”
Knowing that her temper was about to slip its leash, Lina fought to maintain her dignity if not her composure. As she did, she glanced at Ian and saw that he was fighting a battle of his own, either to calm himself or to avoid eruption.
Mercy, she thought. Still watching him, she drew a deep breath, let it out, and focused on relaxing and dissipating her anger. Next, eyeing him more warily than ever, she tried to imagine him as Lizzie or anyone more easily soothed than she had believed Ian could be. Then, as she had with Lizzie, she willed Ian to be calm.
To her wonder, she saw the sparks in his eyes dim as he, too, inhaled deeply and exhaled. His gaze slid upward when he did that, to a point above her head.
Then his gaze met hers again. “What just happened?” he asked her.
“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted.
“You did something.”
“I did, aye. But I swear to you, I have never tried to do that before.”
“So you can control me.” He did not sound astonished, just resigned.
“By my troth, sir, I did naught to control you, only to control myself. Sithee, then I saw—Faith, I do not know how to explain this properly, for I have never—�
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Deciding to start again and just tell him what had happened, she said, “The fact is that you stirred my temper when you ordered me to sit down and explain myself. Then you stirred it nearly to exploding when you snapped at me. I realized that my anger was inflaming yours, so I fought to control myself, not you.”
“But you did control me.”
“With respect, sir, I doubt that,” she said. “I may have some ability to aid you, but you influence me, too. You have only to look at me as you did earlier when you came toward me to make my knees quake. Good sakes, you scared all of those men out of your way. Grown men, warriors all, leaped to clear a path for you.”
“My temper does evidently have its own reputation,” he admitted.
She wanted to smile at that understatement but judged it wiser to say, “I have heard that, aye. But I swear I had never before tried to control you. Mayhap our tempers simply sway one another, and we are both making more of what just happened than it deserves. If I am calm, you are calm. If I get angry…” She spread her hands.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I felt something then, something unusual.”
She sighed. “So did I. Mayhap it is all part of having foresight, if that is what I have been experiencing. As I said, I had never had episodes like those before. Nor did I ever have cause before Lizzie and I were captured to try to calm any—”
Her sisters’ images loomed before her, bickering with each other.
“What is it now?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”
She smiled ruefully. “I’m thinking that I have a reputation, too, not for temperament but for family peacemaking. Sithee, Andrena and Murie often quarrel or begin to quarrel. I can calm them, but by my troth, I never thought of it before as willing them to behave. Nor do I think I ever did such a thing. But I did do that with Lizzie at Dumbarton at least once, I’ll admit. I was terrified that she would speak rashly or act so and make matters worse for both of us. She thought Dougal was handsome and that he liked her. I knew he just wanted to use her as a pawn.”
“You were right.”
“Have I satisfied you, then?”
“Not completely.” He stood and held out his hand. “I want satisfying now in another, more stimulating way.”
Desire swept through her, and she let him draw her to her feet and to the bed.
“Will you take off your clothes, or shall I?” he asked softly.
Since his fingers were already at her laces, loosening them, she murmured, “I think it must be your turn.”
Chapter 20
Ian wasted no time disrobing her. Remnants of his anger lingered, but the last shreds of them vanished when he bared her breasts. He stripped the rest of her clothing from her, and when she was naked, he took her in his arms and kissed her.
“Take your clothes off now,” she said. “They are prickling me.”
“You do it,” he replied, grinning but wondering if she would obey.
Looking him in the eye, she said, “I will gladly assist you. But just as it was your turn to take off my clothes, it is my turn to give the orders, sir. Surely, you would not want me to think that you behave unfairly.”
Chuckling but ever willing, he took off his jack and let her unlace his shirt and his breeks. Then impatience stirred, and he quickly stripped off the rest.
When he reached for her again, she stepped back, saying, “Nay, sir, you will not touch me until I give you leave. This time, I want to watch you walk to the bed. You seemed to derive pleasure from watching me. I want to see how that feels.”
“Aye, sure,” he said. Recalling their wedding night, he remembered other things that he had commanded her to do and strode willingly to the bed.
Lina followed him. “Now stretch out and let me look at you,” she said.
What followed was educational for him, and mayhap for her, too. She seemed to like giving him orders, and she had learned much from him in a short time about pleasing a man. He soon realized, though, that it was not in his nature to remain inactive at such times. Even so, she was right. Fair was fair.
But when she moved on top of him and began licking and sucking him from his nipples downward, he could bear it for only a short time before he rose up, captured her, and rolled over with her.
Laughing, she looked up at him, her beautifully clear eyes alight with her laughter. “You do not play fair, Sir Ian Colquhoun.”
“Do I not, my lady? See what you think of this.”
Her next gurgle of laughter turned into a gasp when he reached between them to find her nether lips and slide his fingers inside.
With that, he claimed her as his own again, and her response was as passionate as any man might have wished. He took his time, watching her expression until he realized that he did not need to watch her to gauge her feelings.
He could tell just by the way she moved and the little sounds she made. Each difference in movement or sound fired his senses as much as her touch did.
It was a long while before they fell asleep, exhausted.
Furious and frustrated, Dougal MacPharlain strode along the west Lomondside path with four of Andrew Dubh’s men following him and with only the light of the moon and stars to guide him. Although he hoped they would abandon him when they reached the track up through the pass, he knew that any opportunity to pay Andrew back had vanished… for the nonce. He had also learned, painfully, just what seeing him on his way with the laird’s compliments meant. With each blow the men had struck him, they had recited those words.
Battered and bruised he might be, but Andrew had made a grave mistake by letting him live. The fool ought to have hanged him when he had the chance. He did, after all, still have an unwed daughter. And other opportunities would come.
They overslept, making Ian glad that he had not promised Mag they would leave early. But they made good time, and when they reached the river plain about two hours after midday, Dumbarton loomed ahead. As they neared the end of the woods, a dozen riders or more came into view, riding toward them.
The rider leading the way carried Colquhoun’s banner.
“This is a surprise, sir,” Ian said when the two parties met.
His father grinned. “I feared ye’d make straight for Dunglass, lad. Sithee, his grace wants to see ye. And he’s not a patient man.”
“Sakes, have I offended him?” Ian asked.
“Nay, how could ye when ye took back his castle for him? ’Tis more likely the man wants to thank ye. But, sithee, Mag told me ye’d sent half of your tail back with him from Bannachra. I just thought that, as my heir and a knight of Jamie’s realm, ye should make a greater show whilst approaching the gates of Dumbarton than to ride up that hill and through them with nobbut four men to support ye.”
Ian suspected that Colquhoun wanted to be at his side when he met with the King, but he was delighted and nonetheless grateful for his thoughtfulness.
“I’d be proud to join forces, sir, if you will ride in with me. Otherwise, I’ll willingly accept four of your men to ride with mine. It would be unwise of me, I think, to risk Jamie’s anger by arriving with a larger tail than I’m allowed.”
“Aye, sure, I’ll go with ye,” Colquhoun said, leaning sideways to put an arm around Lina and give her a fatherly hug.
“Did anyone kill the great stag on your hunt, sir?” Ian asked then.
“Nay, lad. We never laid eyes on the wily creature.”
Ian smiled, delighted that the splendid beast still lived to roam the woods and heights. A glance at Lina told him that she was also pleased.
At the foot of the road to the castle gates, he said, “It might be more tactful for us to take only my men the rest of the way, sir.”
“Tact? From ye, lad?” Colquhoun’s eyes danced. “I thought I’d never see such a thing. It must be your lady’s good example. Forbye, I should tell ye that his grace would have ye present her to him.”
“She sets a fine example, to be sure,” Ian said, smiling at Lina.
She g
azed back solemnly. “I am not properly dressed to meet his grace, sir. This old gray kirtle is unsuitable for such an august occasion. Mayhap whilst you speak with his grace, your lord father will be kind enough to bear me company.”
Colquhoun chuckled. “I’d bear ye company any time, lassie, right willingly. But I doubt his grace would be so ill-willed as to disparage your dress. Even if he were disposed to such behavior, ye’re as beautiful as any other noblewoman in the land, whatever ye wear. So, unless your husband objects or Jamie’s mood has soured afore then, I warrant that all three of us will meet with him.”
Ian was determined to keep Lina with him, whatever his grace said, so he was glad to find Jamie not only in a good mood but demanding to see them at once.
He greeted them with smiles, striding toward them when his chamberlain announced them. Inches shorter than Ian, the King was solidly square-built, with a muscular torso, broad shoulders, and the powerful legs of a fine swordsman.
“I am glad to see you again, Sir Ian,” he said, offering his hand. “You have done me a great service, sir, although I confess, I laughed when I heard how easily you accomplished what I had thought must be an impossible feat.”
“No more impossible than it was for your cousin, the Lord of the North, to take Stirling, your grace. But, if I may,” Ian added, making a subtle gesture toward Lina. At Jamie’s nod, he went on, “I would present my lady wife to your grace.”
Lina made a deep curtsy.
“Sir Magnus told me you had married,” Jamie said, extending a hand to her. “Arise, Lady Colquhoun—Nay, though, you will be Lady Ian, will you not?”
“Why, I do not know, your grace,” Lina said, looking to Ian for help.
“We haven’t sorted that out yet,” he said. “I suppose it will be Lady Ian Colquhoun, since my mother is Lady Colquhoun.”