“How is yer sister?”
“Tired and disappointed in how things have turned out,” Annabel said quietly as she set the tray on the bedside table and turned to peer at Ross. “No change?”
“Not yet,” Seonag answered. “But I’m sure he’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Aye,” Annabel muttered, beginning to fear that may not be true. “Thank you for sitting with him, Seonag, but I shall take over now. ’Tis almost the sup,” she added. “You should go below and join the table.”
The maid hesitated, but then said, “Only if ye promise to lie down and sleep fer a bit.” When Annabel opened her mouth to refuse, Seonag added, “Ye’ve slept no more than minutes this last night and day since he was injured. Ye’ll do the laird no good do ye make yerself sick. He would no’ want that.”
Annabel let her breath out and slumped in defeat. The truth was, she was exhausted, and sleep sounded a heavenly idea. Raising her shoulders again, she said, “Very well, but only for a couple of hours. I would appreciate it if you would wake me up after that. I promised Kate I would go speak to her later.”
Seonag nodded and stood. “Sleep well. Ye need it. Ye do no’ want Ross wakin’ up to find ye looking so haggard.”
Annabel’s eyes widened with alarm at those words as she watched the woman leave the room. No, she certainly did not want to look haggard when Ross woke up. It would just make Kate look even better, which she certainly didn’t need. She was already insecure about how he would react when he saw what he had missed out on, and worried that he might set her aside to claim her sister.
She probably wouldn’t fret so much about that had her mother not moaned on about how disappointing she was in the area of attractiveness, and how Kate had looked so much prettier in the gown, and how she was sure “the Scot” would refuse the contract the moment he saw her. Truly, after hours of that, Annabel had been amazed when he had been so kind and agreed to marry her. But then he had never seen Kate. He probably thought them similar in looks.
Pushing that worry away as something she could not do anything about anyway, Annabel stripped off her clothes and slid into bed next to her husband. While she only planned to nap, she wanted to be comfortable for it, not tangled up in her skirts.
Breathing out a sleepy little sigh, she cuddled up to her unconscious husband. Resting her head and hand on his chest, Annabel pretended for a moment that he was not unconscious, just sleeping, and that he loved her and thought her more attractive than her sister and wished to keep her to wife for always.
Thanks to her exhaustion, it was a short daydream and she quickly drifted off to sleep.
ROSS WOKE TO silence and early morning sunlight creeping through the cracks in the shutters. Despite that, for one moment he felt disoriented and unsure of where he was, but then the woman draped across his chest murmured sleepily, drawing his attention to her presence. He recognized Annabel at once, and then recognized the shapes and shadows of their room in the near darkness.
He was home.
The thought made him smile. MacKay had always been his home, but he had never felt comfortable in this room. This was his father and mother’s chamber to his mind, or had been when he’d moved here on taking up the title of clan chief. He’d done it only because it was expected, and because Seonag had ordered the servants to move his things here while he was out in the practice field. But it had never felt quite right … until now. At that moment, with Annabel in his arms, and dawn clawing its way through the shutters to touch on this item or that, he felt like he belonged there.
He was also so thirsty he could drink moat water, and hungry enough to eat a raw horse. Grimacing, Ross eased Annabel off his chest and sat up on the side of the bed. He was about to stand up when he spotted the tray on the bedside table holding four small meat pies and two goblets of cider. Stomach rumbling, he reached for a pie and popped it in his mouth. It was good, damned good, and he reached for another even as he quickly chewed and swallowed the first.
Ross ate all four meat pies one after another, and then gulped down both goblets of cider as well. Once finished with his feast, a wave of exhaustion swept over him and he decided a little more time abed wouldn’t go amiss. Stifling a yawn, Ross lay back down and tugged the linens and furs back over himself.
Annabel immediately rolled toward him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and her leg shifting sleepily over his. Ross peered down at the top of her head, then carefully moved his arm out from beneath her and wrapped it around her instead. Annabel shifted sleepily in response, her head moving onto his chest and her hand coming to rest on his stomach.
Ross smiled faintly and slid his right hand along her arm in a gentle caress. He loved touching Annabel. She had such soft skin. Everything about her was soft: her skin, her body, her heart, and he loved that about her. He also lusted over her something fierce, he admitted wryly, letting his left hand slide down under the linens and furs to cup her sweet, round behind.
“Mmmm,” Annabel murmured, shifting closer. Her leg slid over him again, this time riding up and nudging his sleeping staff. She may as well have slapped it, Ross thought wryly as his penis woke at the touch and began to harden. Damn, she hadn’t even meant to touch him and he was reacting like that.
Following his awakening needs, he eased her off his chest and onto her back, and then drew the linens and furs covering them down to her waist. Annabel hardly stirred at either action, which made him smile. It meant he could wake her in any way he wished. He could kiss her sweet lips to stir her, or suckle at her breasts, or perhaps slide down her body, bury his head between her legs, and bring her awake with the screaming need he was now suffering, thanks to her unintentional nudge.
His eyes settled on her breasts, round and full with pale rose nipples that presently were as asleep as their mistress. He liked them better when her nipples hardened into sweet little buds he could toy with, take between his lips and teeth, and nip lightly as he flicked with his tongue.
That idea was an appetizing one and Ross shifted down the bed a bit until his head was even with her breasts, and then bent to claim one with his mouth. He caught it between his lips first and suckled to draw it to life, but once it hardened in his mouth, he caught it lightly between his teeth and flicked it repeatedly with his tongue until Annabel moaned in sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ross saw her legs shift restlessly and let one hand slide down to caress her thigh. He smiled around her nipple when her body reacted automatically, legs shifting further apart in invitation. How could he resist such a generous offer?
Nipping lightly at her nipple, Ross slid his hand between her legs, not surprised to find her warm and wet for him already. That was something else he loved about his wife. She warmed to him quickly, seeming always ready and happy to welcome his attentions. He knew not all men enjoyed such pleasure with their wives, and he intended to nurture that and do what he could to keep the fire that grew between them alive.
When Annabel released a long groan, her body arching and shifting, Ross raised his head to peer at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open in a way he was sure she would not allow were she awake. The woman was sleeping like the dead while he was wide awake, every inch of him.
It was time to wake her up, Ross decided, and lowered his head to claim her nipple again. He suckled more insistently for a moment, and then let it slip from his mouth and moved further down her body, running his tongue over her creamy flesh as he went. He paused briefly at her hipbone to nibble and lick there, and then continued on to bury his face between her legs.
ANNABEL WOKE GASPING for breath, her body arching and writhing in the bed. Her groggy mind was slow to understand why her whole body seemed to be on fire with pleasure. Then she became aware that the pleasure was centered between her thighs and she raised her head to look down. The sight of Ross’s head buried there, along with the sensations he was causing as he apparently tried to make a meal of her, held her in thrall for a moment and th
en it struck her … Ross was awake.
That realization hit just as her orgasm did, or perhaps the joy that washed over her at the realization helped push her over the edge. Whichever the case, all of it together had Annabel sitting up sharply in bed, screaming his name in a voice that sound racked more with pain than the pleasure she was experiencing.
Fortunately, her convulsive pleasure also had her unable to keep from squeezing her thighs on either side of Ross’s head, covering his ears and preventing his eardrums being shattered by the shriek. By the time Ross eased her thighs apart to free himself and then sat up on his knees between her legs, thumping could be heard from outside the bedroom door. It sounded like a stampede of horses.
Annabel didn’t bother to turn her gaze from Ross. She didn’t care what the sound was, she was just too happy to see her husband awake and well. Chest still heaving, and body still pulsing from her violent release, Annabel opened her mouth to say that, but what came out was, “I love you.”
Ross’s eyes widened, and then his head shot around to the door as it burst open and what seemed like the whole castle tried to cram their way into the chamber at once. Gilly and Marach were in the lead, uncles Eoghann, Seonag and Fingal right behind them with at least two dozen servants and warriors at their back that she could see, and every single face held a fear and dismay that she didn’t understand, until Father Gibson’s voice rang out.
“What has happened? Is your laird dead? Is Lady MacKay—my lady?” the holy man ended uncertainly as he reached the front of the crowd and took in the tableau.
Suddenly free of the shock that had held her in place, Annabel glanced around wildly for the linens and furs that were not there, and then simply threw herself off the far side of the bed to use it as cover.
“Lady MacKay? Lord MacKay? ’Tis Sunday. Surely you were not …” Father Gibson sounded injured and even a little bewildered at such betrayal. Annabel was not absolutely positive, but suspected that what Ross had been doing was probably right up there with the original sin in the church’s eyes. They did lecture on about carnal acts being meant only to procreate and certainly Ross couldn’t plant his seed through his tongue.
Would that he could, Annabel thought wryly and then closed her eyes on a sigh. Coward that she was she also stayed right where she was rather than face the priest. Ross did not make a peep either, though that may have been because he didn’t get the chance. Uncle Eoghann was pretty quick to say, “Well, surely ye see that Ross is on his knees, do ye no’, Father? The man was obviously praying. No doubt he was giving thanks for being alive.”
“Aye, and who would no’ do that with a wife as sweet as Annabel?” Fingal asked wryly. “Praise the lord, if I had a wife like Annabel, I’d be praying meself at the moment. In thanks,” he added, but Annabel could hear the devilment in the man’s voice and caught the double meaning when he said praying.
Wicked old man, she thought.
“But Lady MacKay was—She was not praying,” Father Gibson said firmly. “And that scream. Nay. This was—”
“My wife was asleep until the moment before she screamed,” Ross interrupted. “ ’Tis why she did not leap immediately from the bed when ye entered. I’m sure she would ha’e recovered from her shock at this intrusion more quickly had she been awake more than the moment it took ye all to charge up here.”
Hearing movement, Annabel glanced around to see him getting off the bed.
“Now, if ye’re all done gawking, I’d appreciate it did ye leave our bedchamber.”
“But she screamed,” Father Gibson said with suspicion. “ ’Tis why we came up here. We feared you had died.”
“Obviously she screamed in shock when she woke up to find him awake and well,” Uncle Eoghann said, taking the preist’s arm and turning him toward the door.
“Aye, and what we mistook for a cry of mourning at finding him dead was actually rapture,” Fingal added. “Rapture that he yet lived, I mean.”
The wicked old man was going to get them a lifetime of penance did he not stop helping, Annabel thought with dismay.
“I suppose that could be the case.” Father Gibson did not sound at all sure that was the case, but it appeared he was willing to let it lie for now, because he allowed the two older men to usher him out of the room. However, Annabel had no doubt he would have some pointed questions for her the next time she went to confession. She decided then that confession could wait a while, and wondered if not confessing a sin for a decade or so was as bad as the sin that had taken place here this morning.
The click of the door closing drew her from these thoughts and Annabel turned to peer over the bed, relieved when she saw that they were alone once again. But then she noted that Ross still faced the door, his hand on it and head bowed slightly as if in deep thought. Or pain, she worried, and forgetting her nudity, stood to move around the bed toward him.
“Husband?” Annabel asked, pausing behind him. “Is your head paining you?”
Ross gave his head a shake and turned to face her, worry evident on his expression. “What happened?”
She stared at him uncertainly. He should know what had happened. He’d made the world shift for her this time with his attentions, and as he’d said, she’d only woken up just a moment before she’d screamed with her pleasure.
“Annabel,” he said quietly. “I woke up in bed, but do no’ recall how I got there. The last thing I remember is …” He paused and frowned, and then said slowly, “I talked to Fingal … I think I finished talking to him … but …” He shook his head.
“Oh,” she breathed, beginning to understand. He didn’t recall fetching her from Effie’s, making love to her in Carney’s barn, or the attack. He’d woken up, but without some of his memories. She had heard of that happening before. Sometimes the victim of such a loss regained their memory and sometimes not. But that was a small loss, for he was awake, she reminded herself.
“Come,” Annabel said, quietly taking his hand to lead him to the bed. Seating him there, she asked, “How is your head? Does it hurt?”
“Nay. Should it?”
Annabel bit her lip. Her head had hurt when she’d woken up after getting knocked out. But she’d only slept hours. Ross had slept a day and a half, mayhap he’d slept through the pain.
“Annabel?” he prodded when she remained silent. When she focused on him he raised his eyebrows in question and said, “Tell me what happened.”
Nodding, Annabel settled beside him on the edge of the bed and announced, “We were attacked. You were knocked out and have been asleep for a little more than two nights and a day.”
“What?” Ross turned on her sharply.
Annabel nodded. “We have all been very worried and waiting for you to wake.”
Ross considered that briefly and then said, “So when ye screamed, everyone came charging up here because … ?”
“Because they feared you had died, I would guess,” she admitted solemnly.
“Damn,” Ross muttered, and then said, “Tell me everything ye ken from the moment I left Fingal. I did leave Fingal’s hut? We were no’ attacked there, were we?”
“Aye, we left there, and nay that is not where we were attacked,” Annabel assured him and then tried to decide where to start.
Chapter 14
“Wife?”
“Aye?” Annabel glanced up at Ross as they paused at the top of the stairs. She had told him everything that he could not remember about the day he’d taken the blow to the head, not leaving out a single detail even to spare herself. It had been an experience. Ross had got angry all over again at the risks she’d taken in slipping away from her guards. But he’d given a startled laugh when she’d admitted to baring her breasts in a bid to lure him into a “non-bedding” to appease his anger. But the laugh had died quickly and his eyes had begun to glow as she described what had followed. That was where her narrative had fallen apart. Ross had interrupted her telling of the tale to kiss her and relive almost exactly what had happened that
day in Carney’s barn, but with the bed in place of the hay pile.
Annabel supposed she should have reminded him it was Sunday, but they had already broken that rule once. Besides, really, it had been worth whatever future penance they suffered for it.
Afterward, Annabel had picked up the tale again. He’d listened silently, but she suspected by the expressions that flashed across his face and the way he’d nodded occasionally that her telling had helped pull out some of his own memories.
They had cleaned up and dressed to head downstairs after that, and Annabel had found herself wishing she’d finished telling him about the attack before they’d made love. The mood now was too solemn for her liking, where he had been smiling and much lighter of spirit after their romp.
“Ye neglected to mention why me uncle and Fingal are here in the keep,” Ross said, drawing her attention back to the trestle tables below.
She smiled wryly as she noted the two older men talking and laughing with Gilly and Marach at the table. Everyone was finished breaking their fast now and the four men sat alone, no doubt awaiting Ross’s arrival, she thought and murmured, “Ah … well, you see we tried to get to the bottom of these attacks while you were sleeping. Gilly and Marach said that you had spoken to Fingal and planned to speak to your uncle Eoghann too. We had no idea what had come about from your talking to Fingal, so we decided we should speak to them ourselves, and Gilly went down to the village to ask them to come to the keep so we could speak to them.”
“I see,” he murmured, and then said, “And?”
Annabel shrugged helplessly. “And once here, they would not leave. They seemed to think that as you were low and unable to keep me safe, it fell to them as family to ensure nothing befell me until you woke and could take over the task once more.”
“Hmm.” Ross turned his gaze back to the tableau below as he asked, “And what conclusion did ye come to after speaking to them?”
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