Joan tipped her chin up. “They will if I ask.”
“Ye are naught but a widow of the clan, fleeing the lecherous advances of Sir Malcolm,” Robbie proclaimed in annoyance. “None will listen to ye.”
“I’m Lady Joan McKenna, Malcolm’s wife.”
“She lies! About the MacPhearson lass, about her true identity,” the man with Malcolm’s sword at his chest shouted. “The bitch will say anything to gain her freedom.”
“Nay, she speaks the truth,” Malcolm said, moving the sword until the tip was pressed against the vulnerable pulse at his throat. “And dinnae refer to my lady wife as a bitch!”
A frown puckered the imposter’s brow and shards of moonlight flickered over the rigid planes of his jaw. Then, slowly, deliberately, he swung his sword toward the man who held Joan. “Drop the dirk, Robbie.”
There was a cry of outrage from the two others.
“Do it,” Malcolm commanded.
Robbie swore, his reluctance obvious. His eyes darted from the imposter’s sword to his face as though trying to judge his chances of fending off an attack.
“I willnae kill ye, but I’ll wound ye badly,” the imposter promised.
With a heavy sigh, Robbie lowered his arm, pulling the blade away from Joan’s neck. A wave of dizzying relief swamped her. Shuddering, she moved away from him, bringing her hand over to massage the bruise on her side.
“Bring me a length of rope,” Malcolm said.
Still rubbing her middle, Joan searched the saddlebags, quickly finding what was needed. Malcolm secured one man, while the imposter tied Robbie. As they rolled the third, unconscious man onto his back the insistent bark of a dog filled the air.
Prince? Joan exchanged a look of wonder with Malcolm. He smiled and shrugged and then a battle cry roared through the trees. Gasping, Joan looked up and saw a dozen McKenna retainers galloping into the camp, the McKenna leading the charge.
“Hold!” Malcolm shouted, rising to his feet. “Put yer swords away. I want these men kept alive.”
Murmurs spread through the McKenna soldiers. There was a slight pause and then the sound of metal being sheathed in leather filled the night air. Joan was surprised to see that even the McKenna lowered his sword.
Prince burst through the bushes, wagging his tail madly. Joan braced herself for his greeting, but he managed to knock her down anyway. Laughing, she hugged the great beast, noticing immediately that the piece of chemise she had tied around his neck was missing.
“I can scarce believe this worked,” Joan muttered, scratching behind the dog’s ears.
“’Twas Magnus who first noticed the fabric tied around his neck,” the McKenna explained. “We knew it must have been put there by a lady—our greatest hope was that it was ye.”
With questioning eyes, Joan turned to the McKenna. “Prince first found me several hours ago. ’Tis too far fer him to have made his way to the castle and back in such a short time.”
“He’s an untrained, undisciplined beast, unfit fer proper hunting, but there’s no hound in my kennels that’s a better tracker,” the McKenna answered. “He found our search party and made a nuisance of himself, refusing to cease his barking and pestering us until we followed him.”
Joan petted Prince’s head and he rolled on his back, looking so comical that she couldn’t help but smile. Succumbing to the sweet plea in the animal’s soulful eyes, she rubbed his soft belly vigorously, finding that certain spot that caused the dog’s leg to shake.
“Ye’ve earned a reward,” Joan said, smoothing her hand over his head. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to find the biggest, meatiest bone in the kitchen fer ye.”
Tongue lolling, the dog nudged her hand repeatedly with his wet nose, begging for more. Joan obliged him, finding an odd sense of calm as she petted him.
“If I lie quietly on my back, will ye rub my belly, too?”
Joan lifted her gaze to find a smiling Malcolm kneeling beside her. Her heart quickened.
“Nay. I fear I’ll catch fleas,” she retorted, lowering her chin as she felt a blush spread across her face.
“Then I’ll have to settle fer a kiss,” he decided. Cupping her warm cheeks in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers.
His breath pulsed into her and Joan curled close, needing to feel his solid strength. Malcolm enveloped her in his embrace and she clung to him. When the kiss ended, she placed her cheek against his chest, calmed by the sound of his beating heart.
He moved his hand along her back in a slow caress. Relief surged through her and in that moment all felt right in Joan’s world.
“If Joan needs to rest, we can wait until dawn breaks in a few hours to start the journey home,” the McKenna said. “Though I must tell ye that yer mother is in a fine state of worry over the both of ye.”
“Malcolm’s arm was slashed,” Joan said. “It needs tending.”
“’Tis merely a scratch,” he protested. “It’s already stopped bleeding.”
Joan crinkled her brow. “What if the wound opens when ye ride?”
“Then we’ll stop and bandage it.” Malcolm gave her a final squeeze. “Let us be gone from this place as quickly as possible.”
’Twas too dark to see clearly, so Joan poked her fingers through the tear in Malcolm’s shirt. As he claimed, there was no wetness, only the slight roughness of a newly forming scab. Joan sighed, relieved her stoic husband was being truthful about his most recent wound.
Ignoring her bone-aching fatigue, Joan agreed it was best to start the journey home. The camp was easily dismantled and the three bound men hoisted and tied to their horses.
“What of him?” the McKenna asked, pointing at the imposter.
“Allow him his horse, but keep a close guard on him at all times,” Malcolm replied.
“Ye dinnae want him tied like the others?” the McKenna questioned. “Why?”
“My reasons will become apparent in the light of day.” The moonlight illuminated Malcolm’s conspiring smile and Joan wondered how the McKenna would react when he saw the imposter’s green eyes and discovered the truth.
Malcolm reached down to hold Joan’s hand. “Ye’ll ride with me,” he whispered in her ear, and she nodded in agreement.
He lifted her onto his stallion and mounted behind her. Joan leaned her tired body back against Malcolm’s chest. Encircled by his arms, she savored the feelings of strength and safety. Indulging in this blissful moment, Joan surrendered to her exhaustion.
* * *
The sound of cheering awoke Joan. Disoriented, she opened her eyes and realized that she was still atop Malcolm’s horse, his arms holding her securely. As they rode through the portcullis of McKenna Castle and into the bailey the shouting grew louder.
The sky was filled with dark, low-hanging clouds, but there was a warmth and brightness surrounding her, thanks to the welcome they received.
A bittersweet ache tightened Joan’s throat. Many were calling her by name, shouting their relief at her safe return. She knew some were cheering merely because she was Malcolm’s wife, but the camaraderie of the McKenna clan called to her. She had been too afraid to hope for it, too hesitant to realize it, but here at last was her chance to belong, to shed the mantle of being an outsider.
She could abandon the aloof facade that had always protected her from the isolation of being an abused wife and an unwanted daughter. If she chose to embrace it, she would be welcomed into the clan, not relegated to watching and pretending that it didn’t hurt to be distrusted, disliked, and excluded.
Malcolm broke away from the column and headed directly toward the steps where his family was gathered. Lileas leaned heavily against his mother, who was holding Callum in her arms. Joan fully expected her to break ranks and run to her father. Hopefully by this time she had learned to wait until he descended from his horse.
“’Tis a joy to set eyes upon ye both,” Lady Aileen called out to them. “Are ye well?”
“We are,” Malcolm replied. “And have
quite an adventure to share.”
He vaulted off his horse, then moved to assist Joan. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lileas launch herself forward, but she ran past her father and instead threw her arms around Joan’s legs.
“I’m so happy that ye are back,” Lileas blurted out. “I cried fer hours and hours when ye dinnae come home. I even said prayers and lit a candle in the chapel with Aunt Katherine.”
Joan gazed down at the lass in shock. Lileas pined fer me?
“Dear Lileas was most inconsolable,” Katherine said. “She missed Malcolm, of course, but she was more upset about ye being gone. I feared she would be plagued by nightmares, so I slept in the nursery with her and Callum last night.”
Lileas tightened her grip on Joan. “I’m sorry. I know that ye went away because I was a bad lass and took Grandmother’s scissors and cut Callum’s hair and dinnae listen.”
“Nay.” Joan set her hand on the child’s head and gently stroked her hair.
“I promise to be good. I promise I’ll listen. I promise. Please say that ye’ll stay and be my mother. I dinnae want to be a poor, motherless child anymore.”
It seemed implausible, but the little girl’s distress was clearly genuine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Joan said. “I missed you and Callum every minute that I was away,” she added, realizing she spoke the truth. Despite all the difficulties, despite everything, she was indeed elated to be reunited with her family, including Lileas.
“What about me?” Malcolm asked, his voice filled with mock injury. “Isn’t anyone celebrating my return?”
The females all cried out at once and immediately surrounded him. Joan reached for Callum, warmth pooling in her heart when he hugged her and placed a wet, sloppy kiss upon her cheek.
Malcolm swung Lileas up in his arms, then pulled Joan and Callum to his side. Together, they led the way into the great hall, with many of the clan following behind.
Despite the evening meal having been recently cleared away, the servants eagerly brought out more food and drink. Questions were asked and answered, though Malcolm and Joan glanced frequently at the children before carefully crafting a reply. Prince’s role in their adventure was told several times, causing Lileas to preen with pride at her hound’s accomplishments.
Joan was pleased to bestow her promised reward upon the dog. At her request, Cook produced a meaty soup bone and Prince lay contentedly in front of the hearth gnawing on his prize.
Lileas sat upon Joan’s lap, reluctant to be parted from her. Every now and again Joan would rub her chin against the top of Lileas’s head, surprised to find a gentle peace in her own heart when comforting the child.
After her initial assault of questions, Lileas turned silent. It took a while for Joan to notice, and when she did she was surprised to find the little girl had fallen asleep. She glanced down the dais and saw that Callum had done the same.
Joan motioned to Malcolm and he started to rise, but Katherine placed a staying hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Ye and Joan should stay and enjoy yer homecoming celebration. Mistress Innes and I will see the children safely abed,” Katherine volunteered.
Joan nodded. Katherine lifted Lileas from Joan’s lap while Mistress Innes carried Callum. A warm feeling filled Joan, knowing that she could trust her most precious gifts to the care of family who loved them wholeheartedly.
As the hour grew later, the noise grew louder. Music filled the great hall and there was singing and even a bit of dancing.
Yet all was not joyful. Joan’s eyes darted frequently toward Brienne. She was calm and smiling, bringing Joan to the conclusion that Brienne had not yet set eyes upon the men who had planned Malcolm’s abduction.
“Has Brienne seen any of the prisoners?” Joan whispered to Malcolm.
“Nay,” Malcolm replied. “The McKenna got his first close look at them when we arrived home. Needless to say, he’s gloating over capturing the imposter, but willnae pass judgment upon him and the others until tomorrow. Fer now, they are locked in the castle dungeons.”
Joan heaved a sigh. “Do ye know what he plans to do with them?”
“I have a vague idea.”
The wine on Joan’s tongue suddenly tasted bitter. “That sounds ominous.”
“We are alive and fer the most part unhurt. ’Tis the only reason those four men still draw breath.” Malcolm gave her a considering look. “My father willnae be inclined to be lenient. Nor am I. One of them tried to rape ye.”
Joan knew Malcolm was right. Highland justice was swift and oftentimes brutal. “What of the imposter? I gave him my word that if he helped us he would have safe passage to see Brienne.”
“And so he has. He is unharmed from the journey.” Malcolm gently eased a stray lock of hair off her brow. “Surely ye understand. The imposter cannae disgrace the McKenna name and honor and walk away unscathed. And once my father is finished with him, he’ll be handed over to the MacPhearsons.”
Joan took another sip of wine and slowly digested that news. She had assumed as much, but hearing it brought the harsh repercussions to bear. “We must warn Brienne that he is here.”
“Are ye certain? I thought it a kindness to delay her distress,” Malcolm replied.
Joan looked again toward Brienne, feeling only sympathy for her plight, wishing there was some way to ease her pain. “Perhaps it is best to wait, but not too long. We should tell her in the morning, so she will have time to prepare herself to face him.”
Malcolm nodded. “The hour grows late. There’s little chance she will hear about this from another. The McKenna will keep his own counsel on the matter until tomorrow.”
“Except fer telling yer mother,” Joan said with a knowing smile.
“Aye, they share everything, keeping no secrets from each other.” Malcolm took her hand, his blue eyes warm with affection. “’Tis the kind of marriage that I hope we shall have one day.”
His words gave her pause. Possibilities stirred inside Joan, doubts vanished and hope blossomed. She acknowledged that she was finished trying to fight to control the way her heart leapt whenever he touched her. To resist the wicked, sensual feelings he evoked.
It had taken her far too long to admit that she had nothing to lose and everything to gain by embracing the passion Malcolm created inside her.
It didn’t matter that nearly half the clan was crowded into the hall watching them. Let them all see exactly how she felt about her husband! Joan’s arms slid around Malcolm’s neck and she joined her hands at his nape. She lifted her chin and caught her lips with his, pouring every emotion she had kept hidden into that single kiss.
Malcolm’s arms tightened around her. She could feel his hardness pressing against her hip, confirming his desire. There were shouts and whistles from the men and bawdy giggles from the women.
Bracing his forehead against hers, Malcolm gazed down at her. “It pleases me greatly to know that ye share my wish.”
“I do.” She pressed her cheek to his, closed her eyes, and held him. “But there is more that I want, more that I crave from my virile husband.”
“More?”
She favored him with a sultry glance. “I would like his undivided attention in our bedchamber.”
Malcolm’s gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made her tingle. “I believe that can be arranged.”
“Splendid.” Joan tilted her head coyly. She could tell that Malcolm was unsure what to make of her behavior, and that gave her the courage to entice him a wee bit more.
She slid her fingers through his hair, moving along his neck and shoulders and across his chest. “I’ve heard tell that when a man properly beds his woman the pleasure starts as a slow, sweet ache that builds to near madness before finally bringing relief. Is that true?”
His throat moved as he swallowed. “Aye.”
“Show me.”
Chapter Eighteen
With each step they took together up the stairs, Joan became mor
e and more aware of Malcolm. By the time they reached their bedchamber she was breathless with anticipation and trepidation.
What if she failed him?
Ever faithful, Gertrude was waiting in the chamber to assist Joan. She had lit candles, built up the fire, and brought warm water for washing.
“Leave us, Gertrude. I will act as Lady Joan’s maid tonight,” Malcolm declared in a deep voice.
Gertrude cast a surprised, suspicious eye toward him. Joan opened her mouth to reinforce her husband’s command, but a sudden flush of embarrassment stole over her. Horrified that her emotions had gotten the better of her, Joan sent Gertrude what she hoped was a reassuring look.
The maid hesitated, glancing curiously between the two of them before breaking into a knowing grin. Joan’s blush deepened. Gertrude dipped a quick curtsy and hurried from the chamber.
Pushing aside her fears and responding to the emotions brimming in her heart, Joan’s feet padded across the bedchamber floor, closing the distance between them. Malcolm placed his hands on her waist and captured her in a tight embrace. She rested her hands on his chest, the solid muscle beneath her fingertips a stark reminder of his strength.
The scent of his skin filled her senses and she gave in to the temptation to raise her chin for a kiss. She tilted her head so they fit together easily, their breaths mingling, their tongues languidly twining and teasing. Gradually, the kisses turned demanding, deeper, more intense. Malcolm caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged insistently.
Joan swayed unsteadily as the dizzying waves of sensation overwhelmed her. She felt a moment’s hesitation, but turned away the doubts plaguing her mind and simply let herself feel the hunger between them. Within seconds, she was kissing Malcolm back, craving the excitement that tore through her, embracing the fire that scorched her from within.
She was struggling to catch her breath, delighted to hear Malcolm was doing the same. It gave her an odd sense of power and control to realize that she was able to evoke such a strong response in him.
No Other Highlander Page 24