by Mary Wine
“I can fight me own battles,” she said with a touch of determination.
He took another swig from the bottle and put it down so he could rummage through the basket again. “Marcus would enjoy having you trying to kill him a little too much. He’s a rogue, never doubt it.”
“I didn’t mean I’d actually try to…well, brawl.”
He pulled another plate from the basket; this one had a roasted chicken on it. The scent teased her nose and made her belly rumble. A chunk of cheese was shoved onto the side of the plate, the heat from the meat melting part of it. Bhaic placed it between them and offered her an eating knife.
He tore into the chicken and sliced up the cheese. There was a round of bread and some sweet butter for it. The silence grew as the meat disappeared between them. The port was easy to turn to as a remedy for her nerves, but she stopped when she realized she was losing her wits.
“Aye,” Bhaic said, setting the bottle away. “We’ll both end up babbling like fools and wake up trying to remember if we consummated our union or not.”
“Is that why ye brought me out here?”
His features tightened. “I did nae have to bring ye here for that, Ailis. Grant me a wee bit of credit for trying me hand at courting ye.”
She looked up at the moon, feeling foolish and a bit unkind. “It is an impressive view.”
“Aye.” He lifted the basket away and took its place. “But we’re no’ enjoying it quite…right.”
He scooted right up beside her. She shivered, feeling small beside him. He laid an arm across her back, slowly, almost hesitantly as he waited to see her reaction.
He didn’t have to woo her.
Ailis drew in a deep breath and relaxed. It took all of her nerve.
He was overwhelming her again.
The smallest contact between them felt extreme. Her skin prickled, her heart pounded, and her breathing sped up when she caught the scent of his skin. Never once had she decided she liked the way anyone smelled, besides a baby.
She liked the way Bhaic smelled.
But in a completely different fashion.
Oh yes. What she liked about his scent was the way it made her feel small. He was stronger, and that fact didn’t alarm her—it set her blood to racing as he teased the side of her neck with his fingertips.
“I brought ye here…so we might learn to be easy in each other’s company.”
His voice was a whisper, a soft suggestion that might just as well have been coming from inside her. She’d never been one for believing in spells, but at that moment, she was certain she was enchanted by him.
He didn’t have to make the effort. She’d have done her duty if he demanded it. That made her cheeks heat even more, churning up a desire to be more than just his duty. She turned and reached up, laying her fingers against his jaw.
It was a powerful connection, making her glad she was sitting, because she was fairly sure her knees had gone weak.
“Since ye’ve done yer best to impress me, I owe ye a token of me gratitude.”
His face was in shadow now, but she swore she saw his eyes glittering. He eased her forward with his hand, gently encouraging her when she hesitated.
It seemed to take forever to commence with the kiss. Time became a slow-moving thing that allowed her to be aware of every breath she took. Her lips tingled with awareness, anticipation twisting down her spine and pulling her insides tight. It was exhilarating.
Bhaic waited for her.
His jaw tightened, and the hand on his knee was clenching his plaid.
Waiting…for her to kiss him.
She pressed her mouth against his, feeling him adjust the angle of his head so that they fit seamlessly. Their breath mingled, hers catching as she pressed her lips to his, a soft motion that made her shudder with the intensity. It opened up a yearning for more, and she parted her lips, working them against his in a slow action of discovery.
His hand slid to her nape, cupping it and holding her in place. But he didn’t take the lead from her. He followed her, letting her tease and taste his lips. Her thoughts scattered, leaving her a willing voyager on the waves of delight. She wanted to be closer, wanted to open his mouth wider. A moment later, the kiss was harder. Hungrier. It shocked her, and for one insane moment, she happily flung herself into it.
But it was madness, and everything was crumbling around her, leaving her with nothing to hold on to. She pulled back, gasping when she realized how brazen she was being.
“That was worth every damned blow Marcus landed.”
His tone was hard. She eased away from him, suddenly shy. “It couldn’t have been. I do nae know very much about…kissing.”
He stroked her jawline. “Ye’ll no’ make light of it, lass. ’Twas a kiss freely given and I’ll no’ allow ye to take it back. Marcus is no’ the only rogue in the family.”
She shoved him playfully away. “I did nae doubt it.”
But what now?
He had every right.
Every right…
He wanted more. She could feel the hunger between them. His grip on her nape was still solid, his jaw tight as he leaned close.
“Ah, Christ…” he swore softly. “I just recalled what I hate about courting.”
He stood up in a swift motion and reached back down to pull her off the floor. For a moment, she was only an inch away from him, her hands resting on his arms as her skirt pressed against his body. His breath teased her lips, the darkness surrounding them a perfect cloak for the hunger flickering inside her.
“It’s frustrating,” he muttered. “Damned frustrating.”
He found the basket and scooped up everything in a few swift motions. “I am no’ having ye for the first time on the floor.” He was down the steep steps in a swish of his kilt. “Let’s go home.”
He offered her his hand. She made it to the bottom floor before she let the word “home” hit her. It sat uneasily on her stomach as they left the astrologer’s house and mounted. Bhaic pulled his plaid around them both as they rode back across the land bridge and through the gate.
Someone rang the bell, recognizing Bhaic.
“That will raise hell,” he said before pulling up on the reins. Boys were running out of the stable, reaching up to tug on the corners of their bonnets. One of them reached up for her, helping her down as Marcus appeared on the steps of the keep.
“Tempting fate, Brother?” Marcus asked.
“What I was tempting is between me and me wife.”
Bhaic pulled her behind him through the keep. There was an assortment of musicians playing now, the retainers enjoying mugs of ale as the household staff pinched out most of the candles to save them. The hallways were lit with torches. Bhaic took her up the steps and stopped in front of her chamber door.
“Do ye remember what is above this, lass?”
“Aye.” She was breathless and unable to blame it on the rapid climb. No, it was Bhaic and the ideas he stirred in her that were making her heart race.
“I want ye in me bed, Ailis.”
Her breath froze in her throat. His tone was dark and full of a promise that lured her closer to him.
He enclosed her in his embrace, sealing her completely against him. Letting her feel his body. Making sure she felt his strength.
“Yet I want ye there because ye choose to be, for more than the words ye were forced to speak with me inside that church.” He stroked her jawline, his touch delicate and stirring. “Me brother will call me a fool, but I’ll be waiting for ye to come to me.”
She gasped, stunned.
He nodded once before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her mouth. It was hard and demanding, but he didn’t linger over her lips. He pulled away, and she felt the night air rushing in between them, chilling her.
/> “Come to me, and I’ll prove a patient lover. I promise ye that.”
He was gone a moment later, the shadows swallowing him as he climbed to the next floor.
Ye want to go…
Aye and yet nae. She discovered herself smiling and smothering a giggle beneath her hand.
Hadn’t she gone to May Day seeking courtship? It was surely a pleasant surprise to discover her husband willing to wait on her whim. There were footsteps on the stairs, Finlay’s banter coming up ahead of him. Ailis turned and entered her chamber.
The tub was gone, and the room smelled fresher than it had before. Her chemise was fluttering on a drying rack near the fire, proving that Helen had returned to see the chamber righted. Beyond the arched doorway, a candle was burning on the bedside table, warmly welcoming her.
Bhaic had provided a warm welcome too.
She settled into her bed and pinched out the candle with a smile on her lips. She was suddenly exhausted. Far too tired to entertain the doubt that tried to wiggle past her contentment and remind her that Bhaic might turn mean whenever it suited him.
She wouldn’t think of that.
No, instead, she recalled the ride to the astrologer’s house and the fact that Bhaic hadn’t needed to take her there. Never once had she realized how a man’s pride might be something she’d be happy to contend with.
Tonight, she found herself very pleased to know Bhaic MacPherson was stubborn enough to want only a willing woman in his bed.
Even a Robertson wife.
* * *
Helen had the paddle she’d chased Finley down the stairs with hanging from her belt the next morning.
Ailis was still rubbing her eyes. She was pretty sure she’d spent more time thinking about Bhaic than sleeping during the night. She stopped and looked at the paddle.
Helen noticed the attention and sent her a smug smile as she reached down to pat it gently. “The cook sent me out of the kitchens. Seems there’s no place there anymore for someone who does nae loathe Robertsons.”
Ailis made a small clicking sound under her breath. “How devastating for ye.”
Helen snorted in response. “Deliverance, at last. Me father does nae have a castle, but he’s a fine country home. One I was raised to run. Turning bread day in and day out was about to make me daft. I’ve never suffered boredom well.”
“I know the feeling.”
Ailis started to crawl out of bed. The bedding was so thick and the bed itself far larger than anything she’d ever slept in before.
“Tonight will be interesting,” Helen said.
Ailis looked to Helen to explain.
“It’s the laird’s monthly court.”
Ailis shrugged and picked up her comb. Helen took it from her and began to work the tangles from her hair.
“As the Tanis’s wife, tradition dictates—” Helen continued.
“Holy Christ!” Ailis exploded.
Helen chuckled. “I see things are nae so different on Robertson land.”
“No, but I did nae sit on the high ground during manorial court, because I was the laird’s daughter.”
Helen finished with the comb and pointed to a chair. Ailis sat down. Helen came up behind her and started to weave her hair into an elaborate braid.
“Well, ye’re the wife of the Tanis now. It’s yer place to rule on any issues between women that are of a delicate nature.”
And only a handful of people knew the truth of her unconsummated vows. She was in a precarious position, one that might end in disaster, whichever way she went. Well, there was only one way her life was going to go.
“It seems I will no’ be the only one doing adjusting,” Ailis said, more to remind herself that she was staying than to answer Helen.
Helen began pinning up her braid. “Well now, it will certainly be a test of yer position.”
“Aye,” Ailis agreed. “It seems ye may have blighted yerself by being kind to me.”
Helen finished and offered her a smug look. “Duana can kiss me Grant arse.”
“Me Robertson one too.”
The moment brought her the first hint of friendship. It wasn’t MacPherson, but it was a beginning. Every new bride had to suffer through being a stranger. She’d heard such lectures since she was small, but they had lacked all reality until now.
Now things were very different. Suddenly, she understood how easily it might be to cling to her husband. Take the intimacy required of marriage as a sign of affection.
She smiled ruefully. It wasn’t as if she had many other offers of companionship.
Well, she’d make a place for herself, by God.
And Duana could just become accustomed to it.
* * *
“Is it bride or wife?”
Bhaic wiped the sweat off his brow and looked past the young stallion he was working with to see his brother leaning up against the corral fencing.
“I do nae care to get kicked because I’m talking to ye instead of minding what I’m about.”
The stallion’s ears perked up, a shrill sound coming from him. Bhaic turned, allowing the animal enough rope to feel comfortable.
Marcus pressed the issue. “Bride or wife?”
“Bride, if ye must know.” Bhaic turned on his brother. “Because I will no’ be a rutting bastard, jumping on her while going on about me rights.”
“Yet it is yer right.”
“Devil take that,” Bhaic snapped. “And ye. I enjoy enticing a lass into me bed as much as ye do, and I will nae be having Ailis any other way.”
His kilt flared out, his motion too swift. The stallion let out a snort and reared up. Bhaic cursed and dove through the rails, tucking his head and rolling over his shoulder and back onto his feet.
He ended up looking at his brother’s feet. Marcus stood there his expression grim. “She’s skittish. If she bolts for her father’s land, this feud yer marriage is meant to end might have new life breathed into it. Better to settle the business.”
Bhaic got to his feet and glared at his brother. “Beware how little sympathy ye have for us, Marcus. Morton could easily decide ye would make a fine alliance with the bloody English.”
“English ladies do nae transplant well into our highlands.”
“I agree full well, but the good earl did nae ask neither me or me bride how welcome she’d be on MacPherson land. In truth, I doubt he cares.”
Marcus grunted. “Aye, ye have that thinking right. The earl is set on securing his future. We’re meant to fall into line.”
“Let it be,” Bhaic said. “If ye must know the details, she did nae refuse me. No’ even the first night.”
His brother slowly smiled. “I would nae be talking to ye if I did nae already know where the difficulty lie.”
“Figured it out, did ye?”
Marcus shrugged. “Aye. The only one in this family more stubborn than ye, is meself.”
“Agreement between us at last,” Bhaic declared. Bhaic suddenly looked past his brother. “What in the name of Christ?”
Finley was coming up the road, dragging Ailis with him. Lyel had hold of Helen and even had his dagger pressed against her neck. Other retainers had joined in, some of them pushing Ailis when she resisted.
“I’d like to know the answer to that meself,” Marcus said softly.
“Get yer hands off me wife,” Bhaic roared.
Ailis hadn’t been looking up the road. She jerked her attention toward the sound of his voice, and he was sure she snarled. Finley happily pushed her forward.
The retainer shook his head and stomped over to where Bhaic and Marcus were. He pointed an incriminating finger at Ailis. “She’s been brawling with Duana. Turned over one of the tables in the kitchen. There’s a hell of a mess down there. Ye
should have heard the ruckus. Ye’d have thought the devil himself had set his arse down in front of the hearth.”
Helen was shoved forward too, righting herself and turning to look at Lyel. He crossed himself and moved away from her. There was a swelling around his eye, enough to turn black in a few hours.
“Christ in heaven, Ailis. What are ye doing to me home?” Bhaic demanded.
She was beating flour off her skirt, but looked up when he spoke. The look in her eyes was pure hellfire.
“My duties,” she snapped, stomping over to stand in front of him.
“Suddenly devoted, are ye, lass?” Marcus asked softly.
She clenched her hands into fists as she growled at his brother.
Bhaic stepped between them. “What sort of duties could possibly entail fighting with Duana?”
“The kitchen books. I was looking at them, and she took exception.”
“Ye mean she walked right up and slapped ye,” Helen interrupted. “As well as calling ye a spy. Yer damned men kept the mistress from giving that crone the slap she deserved.”
“Well now…she’d already turned the table over,” Finley said, defending himself. “There’s a mess down there for sure. Cider and ale all over the floor, along with half the bread for supper. The hounds made good use of the time. Tore into the kitchens and ate everything they could. It will be a poor supper to be sure.” Finley was shaking his head, Lyel joining his fellow retainer.
“The table turned over because I stood up so fast. God’s breath! I certainly didn’t think she’d actually hit me for looking at the books,” Ailis said.
“Those are MacPherson books.” Marcus spoke softly. She recognized the tone now as one of suspicion.
But what bothered her the most was the unreadable expression on Bhaic’s face. Any hint of the man who’d teased her in the moonlight was gone. In its place was the man she’d feared her husband would turn out to be.
Suspicious and unyielding, because she was his enemy’s daughter. She wondered if anyone would ever trust her enough to let her make MacPherson land her true home. More than one bride had faced such a fate, retreating to her chambers and weaving tapestries because there was nothing else for her.