Charming the Chieftain

by Deanie Roman

  Addis gripped a handful of hair and forced her head back taking enjoyment from her gasp of pain. He thrust her hard against the wall and clawed at her clothes. A scream bubbled up in her throat and she beat at his hands as he groped a path down her body.

  “You were made to have a man betwixt your legs,” he taunted. “When I’m through plowing your belly you won’t think of my brother.”

  She listened to Addis spew his filth as he violated areas of her body once caressed in desire by Aeden. The thought that he erased precious memories to be replaced by his vile actions rekindled her will to fight. Her renewed struggles to buck him off of her only increased his arousal.

  Addis’s considerable weight pinned her to the wall while his hand burrowed beneath the folds of her plaid. He ground his mouth against hers in an attempt to pry her lips open. After another brief struggle, she pretended compliance and opened them a fraction. She waited until his tongue slithered between her lips past her teeth and then clamped down on his tongue. The metallic flavor of blood flooded her mouth. He thrust two fingers into his mouth to survey the damage and she seized her chance rammed her knee into his groin and lunged sideways when he doubled over and crumpled to the floor.

  Clutching her torn plaid, she dashed to her bedchamber slammed the door and banged the heavy bolt work in place. Her stomach lurched and she barely made it to the chamber pot before ridding her stomach of its contents. She rinsed her mouth with a bit of water left in the ewer, then poured herself a cup of spirits from the corked jug on the table and drained the drink in one swallow. Shattered, she wrung out a face cloth in the wash bin laid down on the bed and placed the cool linen across her forehead.

  Manic thoughts raced through her mind. Words she should never lend credence to, but couldn’t help worrying over. She knew the Scot’s notion of justice and revenge were foremost in their minds, but could the man who had initiated her into passion with such tender caring tie himself to an Englishwoman in order to gain vengeance?

  No. She chose not to believe Aeden capable of such treachery. He may not love her, yet, she knew enough of his honorable nature to know he could never willfully hurt her. She inhaled a deep cleansing breath and allowed the peaceful atmosphere of the room to calm the tangle of self-doubts. Aeden should be made aware of his brother’s abuse, but she did not relish being the cause of more upheaval in his household. After all, she managed to escape Addis’s unwanted attentions. She never considered herself weak and unlike most women, she never knew the luxury of depending on a strong man to fight her battles. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. Aeden would defend her of that she had no doubts. Still, she discerned Addis’s violence stemmed from something other than an upset over Aeden’s marriage to her and she did not want to add more ill-will to the volatile situation.

  Restless, she rose from the bed armed with resolve and left their bedchamber in search of her husband. As she made her way toward Aeden, she was surprised by the amount of people who greeted her. She smiled in return and their genuine warmth almost erased the terrible reason she sought her husband. Too late, she realized her reappearance in the great room would only raise Aeden’s suspicions. She should have awaited him in their bedchamber to ensure privacy. The decision was out of her hands the instant Aeden had honed in on her presence. She stood in the entryway, uncertain if she should interrupt him. He dismissed the men and beckoned her over.

  “There is a large tear in your sleeve, why?”

  She stared at the gaping hole exposing her wrist. At a loss for words, she slid her arm behind her.

  He stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart, hands clasped behind his back, as a muscle ticked along his jawline. The silence stretched between them.

  “I am flattered something so trivial upon my person excites your notice. I do believe you are not aware of my presence on most occasions,” she teased, desperate to redirect his attention.

  His light eyes bathed her in frank admiration, which started the heat to spread from her chest to her cheeks.

  He pursed his lips. “Make no mistake. I notice all about you.”

  Then, just as quick, Aeden’s humor faded. “Now, tell me what happened to your sleeve.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I have dressed to my station in your household and — ”

  “Our household,” he corrected. “Explain the tear.”

  Her eyes darted around the room in frustration. She did not want to lie and now she wasn’t so certain she should reveal the truth. In the end, she told a half-truth.

  “I had gathered a few items for our bedchamber from the family stores and caught the ruffle. When you had been so long in returning I decided to speak with my aunt.”

  He studied her face.

  “You are pale. Are you sickening?”

  The concern in his voice warmed her and softened her tone.

  “I am fine truly.”

  “Then you must know Onora is abed by this hour.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She shrugged. “The hour had not occurred to me.”

  His eyes narrowed and she knew her explanation left him with more questions than answers. Thankfully, he didn’t press her.

  He smoothed a knuckle down her cheek. “Leave it to the servants next time.”

  She released a slow breath. “Yes, I believe I shall.”

  “Why did you not return to our chamber?”

  He rubbed his eyes a wry smile on his lips. “In my concern over Ronan, I forgot a messenger awaited my attention.”

  She laughed. “He has been waiting all this time?”

  “Aye,” he shook his head, a full grin broadening his smile. “The servants pacified him with a hearty meal.”

  “Hmm, it wasn’t grave, I hope.”

  She didn’t want him to leave Maxwell land while the threat of Addis loomed over her head.

  “No’ grievous, although, I am to away at dawn.”

  Disappointed, she moved closer to him drawn in by the firm set of his jaw and the banked desire in his blue eyes. Ever so gently, she laid her hand over his scarred cheek. He tensed, his expression wary, yet, he didn’t draw back. Encouraged, she stroked the tips of her fingers over the tough, puckered mass. He winced, but then she ran her thumb repeatedly over the scars and he slowly closed his eyes leaned into her hand and savored her touch. The world around them dropped away.

  “I shall miss you.”

  The declaration spilled from her lips before she guarded her words.

  His eyes opened and he peered into her eyes.

  “Will you, now?”

  The uncertainty in his voice tugged at her heart. “Verily, husband.”

  Just as insecure of his answer, her voice trembled. “Shall you miss me?”

  “Aye.” His eyes were unfathomable and the one word her uttered was low, forceful.

  Aware of the audience they attracted he drew back and she let her hand fall to her side.

  “Your pardon,” Fergal interrupted.

  Aeden shifted his attention to the soldier.

  “All is ready for the morrow.”

  “Good. Take Ian and liberate a barrel of Tam’s home brew.”

  Fergal snorted. “It’ll take more than the two of us if we plan to succeed.”

  Elisande and Aeden shared a chuckle as they watched the redhaired warrior move across the room with a purposeful stride.

  “How many men ride with you?”

  “A fair number to include my brother.”

  Elisande’s eyes widened. “Your brother accompanies you on the morrow?”

  She tried to sound casual and knew she failed miserably.

  Aeden’s gaze sharpened. “Aye. You’ll no’ have to suffer his company again.”

  A soft sob escaped her and she threw a hand over her mouth.

  Aeden clasped her upper shoulders. “What is it?” His ice-blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Has Addis upset you again?”

  In his state of barely leashed rage, Elisande kept silent, afraid he would commit viol
ence on her word alone. In the morning, Addis ceased to be a threat to her so, she saw no reason to inflame Aeden’s fury.

  “Answer me,” he commanded.

  White brackets creased the sides of Aeden’s mouth, his tension tangible. He was ready to pounce.

  “No,” she fought to mask her inner turmoil in a deceptive calm. “Your brother has not troubled me.”

  Crinkles in his forehead emerged as his frown deepened. Her eyes implored him to believe her even though she perceived he found her answer unsatisfactory. Nevertheless, he freed her shoulders and nodded. The knot of tension in her stomach uncoiled and she hurried to change the subject.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  Still frowning, he toyed with a loose curl fallen over her shoulder. At the sound of her voice, his eyes shifted to stare into hers.

  “No more than a fortnight.”

  “Well, I suppose ’tis not so very long.”

  He leaned in and his breath fanned the tendrils around her ear. His nearness set off tingles of awareness down her spine. She had to place a hand on his forearm in an effort to keep her balance. He grinned, and she had an idea he knew how he affected her.

  His eyes bathed her in appreciation. “The hour is late, wife. Let us seek our bed.”

  Anticipation gleamed in his eyes as he observed the blush riding high on her cheeks. Flustered, she preceded him through the crowded room and up the stairs to their bedchamber.

  Aeden crossed to the window. His brows knit together in question. “What is this, lass?”

  His hand caught the small sack of oats swinging in the breeze.

  Suddenly shy, she cast her eyes downward and peeked at him through lowered lashes. Funny that the preparations she made earlier seemed so long ago.

  “’Tis naught save a bit of scent to freshen the chamber.”

  He set the bag loose and put it in motion again.

  She obeyed the crook of his finger and stopped when they stood slipper to boot. An invisible snare of attraction wove its web around them. His arm encircled her waist as she slid her hands to the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his sun-streaked, auburn hair.

  “You’ve made my house a home, lass, and for that I thank you.”

  He sealed his compliment with a long, drugging kiss and bore her to their bed.

  Chapter Twenty

  “’Tis the truth your hair is longer than decency allows.”

  She traced her initials over his heart as his low and throaty laugh filled the air.

  “Then I shall have it sheared to please you, wife.”

  “’Twould make me Delilah to your Samson and truth told I prefer your hair the way it is,” she confessed.

  He cupped her backside with his big hands and squeezed. “Ah, you do please me, lass.”

  In no hurry to end their dreamy interlude, she sketched a lazy outline of his light-blue eyes, slightly crooked nose, and sharp cheekbones ending with a light kiss on his parted lips. He tried to deepen the embrace, but she would not be deterred from her intimate inspection. Her roving hand alighted upon the jagged white scars vivid against his golden-brown skin. Her fingertips sketched the puckered mass, quite aware of to his sudden tension.

  “Who inflicted this injury?” she softly inquired.

  “Addis.”

  Curiously, his tone was void of inflection. She marveled that a brother could be so vicious to a member of his own family.

  “How old were you?” she pressed.

  “Five and ten.”

  He shifted and set her away from him. She wondered if he knew how telling his actions were.

  “Why would your own brother do this to you?”

  She knew from conversation with Onora the attack stemmed from Addis’s jealousy. Her aunt also told her he never spoke of the fight since the day it occurred. She wanted to know more, not because her intent was to re-open old wounds, but to work something out in her mind that had been bothering her since she stitched Ronan’s arm. Fiona’s malice reminded her of their encounter during her ritual, specifically the disgraceful things she said in regards to Aeden. She decided it time to put an end to his doubts.

  “He was jealous that a girl preferred me to him,” he finally answered.

  Disturbed, Elisande finished his explanation. “So, Addis thought if he disfigured you he’d have no more competition.”

  Aeden nodded. “Those who witnessed the fight on that day swore he meant to slit my throat. Fortunate for me, he never was one for accuracy, but he was close enough to wield his knife-work and do quite a bit of damage.”

  The phrase ‘knife-work’ sparked a fleeting memory. She tried to grab hold of the thought, but it slid to the shaded corners of her mind. She shifted her attention back to the topic and Aeden, who seemed to erect an emotional barrier. Compassion for him threatened to morph into tears and she reached out to caress his wounds again. Gentle, yet firm, he restrained her fingers within his grasp and withdrew her hand from his cheek.

  His expression turned grim as he stated, “Lovely fingers should no’ be despoiled so.”

  She thought he was in jest and almost laughed at the foolish words. Then she caught a hint of his pained countenance before his expression cleared. She rose on an elbow to loom over him and waited patiently for him to meet her eyes. His resigned air formed the realization that he supposed her to be repulsed by his injury.

  After quiet contemplation, she agreed with his declaration.

  “You are right, husband. My fingers should never touch your disfigurement.”

  He flinched and tried to roll his head to the other side of the bolster.

  “Please don’t turn away from me. I am not through speaking.”

  Reluctant, he gave his attention a combination of wounded forbearance shown on his face and in his eyes. “Speak your part then, lass.”

  She startled him when she cupped his face in her palms. Unblinking, she stared into wary eyes. “You were correct in thinking my hands should never touch your scars. A mark of resilience in the face of evil deserves more tender ministrations.”

  His expression of wonderment pierced her heart. Overcome with emotion, she settled atop his chest and bestowed feather light kisses the entire length of his creased and bleached skin. He pulled her roughly almost violently to him. His hands locked against her spine in an embrace she never wanted to free herself from. His mouth covered hers and his kiss sent spirals of joy through her. She succumbed to the forceful domination of his lips reveling in his raw desire.

  Breathless, she broke off the kiss. He buried his face in her mane of tousled hair pulled her thigh over his hip and entered her in one sudden thrust. She gasped, uncertain what it was he wanted her to do.

  “Here, love.”

  Eventually she understood he had given her control of their passion. In an awkward motion, she straddled him. The angle of penetration took her by surprise. She adjusted her legs and he glided in deep. He threw his head back and groaned.

  “Move your hips,” he rasped.

  She surged forward and back. Aeden groaned again. Empowered by his reaction, she squeezed him tight and circled her hips in an erotic rhythm. He bucked upward and the motion drew him deeper still.

  A coil somewhere in the vicinity of her womb tightened and a ribbon of pleasure erupted, sending shockwaves to every part of her body.

  Aeden gripped the soft flesh of her hips, pushed down, and then thrust upward. She cried out as another climax burst upon her the very moment his violent release flooded her passage.

  After a time, Aeden left their cozy bed, retrieved a wet cloth, and helped her to freshen up. It was an intimacy she never thought to share with a man.

  “Aeden,” she protested.

  He overrode her objections with a gentle admonishment. “There’s no place for shyness between a husband and wife.”

  Once back in bed, Aeden snuggled her to his side and enfolded her in his arms. She burrowed into his warmth, smiling when he let loose a huge yawn.
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  “You’ve worn me out, lass,” he professed and drew the blanket over them.

  In a bit, the even cadence of his breathing lulled her into a kind of half sleep. Heavy-eyed, her mind drifted between both realms as she skated her fingers over his rib cage and categorizing what she loved most about him. She loved his strength and compassion, his fair treatment of his people and his single-minded ability to attain a goal. She stretched, loving how her body tucked into his. She loved the absentminded manner in which he stroked her back on down to the decadent way he squeezed her bottom, and she loved the touch of his strong fingers when he combed out the wet tangles in her freshly washed hair. She loved his teasing demeanor and his arrogance even though he infuriated at times.

  It suddenly dawned on her that she loved him. At such a profound realization a senseless notion that perhaps panic might set in flitted through her mind, but loving Aeden just felt … right.

  I need to say it.

  She lifted her head and listened for his even breathing. Satisfied he slept, she laid back on his chest and whispered, “I love you, Aeden,” then drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  • • •

  Stunned, he lay there staring at the ceiling in utter disbelief. He recognized early on that she cared for him but, love him? Her declaration plunged his emotions into unexpected chaos. Never before had he been in such a peculiar frame of mind. He struggled with a truth he once thought of as indisputable.

  From the moment his brother flayed his skin, he knew the unsightly, raised mass would keep women at a distance. It had made for a lonely existence. Even the woman whom he once kept as his leman showed an unwillingness to come into the briefest contact with his scars. For that reason the encounters were nothing more than an interlude to sate his carnal needs.

  On the other side of it, when he yearned for a woman to see past the mutilation to the man underneath, an image of his father dispelled the idea. Even though his father found contentment with Onora, he never loved her with the same intensity of emotion he had shown Aeden’s mother. His mother’s death plunged his father into a state of melancholia that lasted throughout Aeden’s boyhood. Once he witnessed the utter devastation to a seemingly indestructible man, Aeden vowed never to surrender his heart to any woman.