“Ah, lass,” he said, stepping forward and clasping her body tightly to his. “I vow to ye, I desire ye.”
“What?” Stark, vivid fear glittered suddenly in her gaze, confusing him. “How could you possibly desire me? I have on men’s clothing. I’m unbathed. My hair is a mess. I have too many spots peppering my nose and cheeks. I’m too thin by far. I—” Her gaze darted wildly around the room.
Ah! He understood now. Though Eve was a beautiful woman, she did not see it. She feared he would not want her, perhaps be untrue because of it. He slid his hands up her back, feeling her shiver. He touched his fingers to the silky, fiery strands of her hair, and lust seized him in a harsh grip. “It dunnae matter if yer hair has been brushed,” he said, his body strumming with desire. “It beckons to me with its warmth and softness.” Her lips parted on a sharp intake of breath, and he continued, sure he could ease her fears. He ran his fingers over the perfect contour of her cheek, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. “And the spots on yer cheeks and nose make ye even lovelier.”
“They…they cannot possibly!” she sputtered.
“They do,” he assured her. They made her real. They showed she went into the sunshine and enjoyed life. When she tried to twist out of his arms, he increased his grip, acutely aware of her lush breasts pressing against his chest. “And ye are nae too thin. Ye are graceful, lithe, and have curves exactly where ye need them, where a man truly appreciates them.”
“Oh,” she groaned. “This is wrong.”
“Wrong?” He frowned. “Do ye mean sinful?” She had lived in a convent for many years, after all. “I assure ye, a man desiring his wife is nae sinful.”
Panic burned her gaze into his. “I…I am afraid!” she blurted, turning a deep red. “I’m deathly afraid of you. Of…of…of the joining!”
God above, he’d been slow. She was afraid to join with him. “Eve, we must—”
“I would ask a courtesy,” she said, her voice shaky and sounding fragile.
Her heart beat harshly against his chest. In that moment, he felt he would grant her anything if it would wipe away her fear of wedding him. “What is it?”
“I’d like to come to know you before we join,” she said, her voice and her body both trembling even more now.
God’s teeth. He should deny the request; it was unwise to relent to it. Foolhardy, even. If she was taken or captured, and the marriage had not been consummated, it could easily be dissolved. “Eve, I’m sorry—”
“Please,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes, making them turn even brighter. “I don’t want to be fearful the first time we join. You’re a stranger to me.”
He could not deny her request. There was no possible way he could bring himself to do so, no matter how unwise. But then he could not leave her here when he went for her friend as he’d intended. He could not seduce her but also put her at ease if they were separated. He needed to launch a slow seduction. Starting now.
“I’ll grant ye yer request on two conditions,” he said, his mind turning.
Relief swept her face, and then she said in a wary voice, “What are they?”
“One,” he said, holding up a finger, “ye will sleep with me in my tent when we travel.” She bit her lip but nodded. “Two—” he held up another finger “—ye will allow me to touch ye and kiss ye.” He could have said more, such as caress her, introduce her to passion and pleasure, but touching covered that, and there was no need to scare her further.
Her eyes widened. “But—”
He shook his head. “On this I’ll nae relent, Eve. Ye will be my wife in all ways but the joining until ye are ready, or I kinnae grant yer request.” After all, he could not very well seduce her if he could not even touch her. “I will have yer vow.”
“Fine, you have my vow,” she muttered, and he could not stop the laugh that rumbled from his chest. She frowned. “What’s so amusing?”
“Well…” He tugged a hand through his hair, unsure how honest to be, but he decided to be totally truthful. He did not like deceit. “Ye’re the only woman I’ve ever met that acted so forlorn about the prospect of me touching them. Usually the lasses are eager.”
“Then, by all means, go touch one of them.” She gave him a dismissive wave.
He purposely roved his gaze lazily from her eyes to the creamy expanse of her neck, and down lower to her chest before inching back up to her face and meeting her gaze again. “From this moment forward, bean bhàsail,” he said in a low voice, “ye will be the only lass I ever touch again.” He slid his hands to the base of her skull, his blood racing in anticipation of tasting her.
She licked her lips. “Bean bhàsail?”
Ah, he’d forgotten she would not know Gaelic, being English as she was. “It means temptress,” he answered, making slow circles on the base of her skull with his fingertips. She leaned into his touch, he was certain, without even realizing what she was doing.
“I’m not a temptress,” she said, her voice heavy and lazy, as if she was growing very relaxed.
“Ye surely are,” he said. And because his body strummed and ached so harshly with the need to feel her lips on his, he leaned forward and brushed his mouth to hers. She stiffened at first, but when he traced his tongue over the crease of her soft mouth and ran a finger down her chin, she relaxed under his touch. “Open yer mouth for me,” he whispered, and she did so with a whimper not of fear but of burgeoning desire. Triumph flared through him as he slid his tongue into the hot, welcoming recesses of her honeyed mouth and began his seduction.
Chapter Nine
Eve meant to stay utterly still and unresponsive during the kiss Grant had stolen, but what her mind planned and her body wanted were appallingly at odds. She’d never been kissed, so she’d had no notion what to expect, nor how it would make her feel. But as his tongue swirled in her mouth and his strong arms circled her protectively while his hands worked wonders upon her back, her heart pounded, her belly tightened, and a strange tingling ache filled her to her core. She found herself leaning toward him, giving freely to the passion of his kiss.
He tasted of mead and smoke, and he smelled of the grass and the sea. He’d called her a temptress, but she had to wonder now who was tempting whom.
Just as she was getting used to the feeling of his lips gently on hers, his tongue tenderly exploring her mouth, his kiss became hungry, his lips ravishing hers. Yet, her response both shocked and scared her by the mere fact that she was not afraid of what he was doing to her. Now she was fearful of how she was responding. The pit of her stomach swirled wildly, and gooseflesh covered her skin. His kiss sang through her veins and ignited an ache unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He was a stranger to her, yet when he kissed her, it felt as if she’d known him for a thousand years.
His lips left her mouth to trail a fiery path down her neck to her chest, and instead of pushing him away, she fisted her hand in his thick hair and shamefully pressed his head closer to her chest. She quivered beneath his magical lips as they descended with precision to the valley of her breast, which was exposed by the overly large léine. She had a vague awareness of his fingers parting the material farther until it gaped open, but it was not until cool air hit her breast and his wet tongue circled her nipple that she became fully aware of what she was allowing to happen.
Heaven above, it had to be a sin, but it felt so blessedly good. Hot desire gripped her in an unmerciful hold as astonishment slammed into her. She should push him away, her mind screaming at her to tell him to stop, but when she attempted to speak, a moan escaped her instead. Grant took her nipple fully into his mouth and suckled, causing shameful lust and need to pulse from her heart to between her legs. Clara had told her about what occurred when a man and a woman kissed, but she’d said it felt pleasant. Pleasant. Clearly, Clara had purposely left some details out. That or Clara had never been properly kissed.
This was beyond pleasant. This was robbing her of her good sense. She wanted nothing more than to pres
s Grant closer, to give over to the ache consuming her, but if she did that, she’d join with him before they were even wed! Perhaps she was a harlot at heart. No, she could not join with a man she had no intention of staying married to. Lust was not love. Besides, he had already admitted that he wanted her for her castle.
She shoved at his chest until he broke the contact, and he raised his head, his compelling blue eyes meeting hers and pinning her to the spot. He was so appealing to all her senses that her breath caught in her throat, and she could do no more than stand agape as his fingers brushed gently over the bud he’d just suckled and then pulled up her léine until she was covered once more. Yet, even when his hand fell to his side and they were no longer touching, she felt something invisible reaching across the divide between them to circle her and bind him to her.
Her heart fluttered wildly as he smiled wickedly, possession gleaming in his eyes. “Ye see? Ye dunnae have anything to fear.”
He was wrong. She had everything to fear. She knew he was trying to seduce her. She’d heard his plan when he had spoken with his men in the great hall. Yet, here she stood, perilously close to forgetting his true intention and giving in to the need he’d awoken. The man was a wolf, and she his prey. He was playing a game with her, and she’d almost lost. The minute he took her, bound her to him forever, she had no doubt the promises he’d made would be forgotten. She could not be so foolish or weak again. She had to be more cunning and more careful than this warrior before her, for if she was not, her dream of marrying for love would be lost forever.
“Come.” Grant took her hand, and when she tried to pull away, his fingers curled more tightly around hers. “Ye gave yer vow, remember?”
“Bah,” she groused, but she did not attempt to pull away from him. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a featherlight kiss there that made her tremor. Then, with another wicked smile, he released his hold on her, though the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and the desire he’d stirred thoroughly heated her. She felt branded. He turned, strode to the great hall door, and cheerfully beckoned everyone in for their wedding. She studied his broad back that tapered to slim hips and strong legs. Heaven help her, he was handsome. She had given her word, and she was a woman who kept her promises. She’d simply have to find a way to avoid him and not break her word. Surely it could not be that hard?
Putting distance between her and her husband—her husband for now, Eve mentally corrected herself with a gulp—was proving much more difficult than she’d imagined. Grant was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. Or wed, she thought hysterically, nearly laughing at her horrible humor. Yet, it was either find humor in the situation or cry.
As Grant’s stallion pounded over the uneven terrain toward the convent, Eve could do little more than sit rigidly and try not to lean into the man she’d wed. Her mind drifted to Clara and rescuing her, and then to her sister and finding her. But as the day and the distance wore on, she was finding it harder and harder to keep a stiff, straight spine. Grant’s solid chest beckoned to her aching back. If only they would stop for a rest. Before they’d all set out for the convent, he’d said that they would halt at nightfall and sleep until daybreak, and Eve found herself looking hopefully at the sky, which had gone from sunny to lovely shades of purples and grays. Night was descending, and none too fast enough for her.
As the stallion raced across the countryside, Eve could not decide what pained her more: her aching bottom, back, or head. She was positive that if she’d been allowed to ride a horse by herself, she would have been much more comfortable, but Grant had flatly refused her request. He’d told her in front of all his men that he could not be bothered with worrying about her keeping pace, so she would ride with him.
Keeping pace! She was an excellent rider, and she would have had no trouble keeping pace if only he’d given her the opportunity. It infuriated her. She could never stay wed to a man who did not think women capable, and it seemed that was the sort of man Grant was—or guilt had made him into, at least. She could not help but recall the story Esme had told her of Grant teaching his mother how to wield a sword. Perhaps he felt such responsibility for his mother’s death that he had taken the opposite views he’d once had on women. Eve’s anger abated a little as the suspicion sank in that it was guilt and fear for the women under his care that led him to be overly protective.
Finally, Grant held up his hand and whistled for them to halt, and immediately, Kade and Ross slowed their destriers. Eve wanted to weep with relief, but she was determined not to show Grant how tired she was, especially when he didn’t seem the least bit weary from the journey. He guided their horse into a clearing surrounded by trees and rocks, and he quickly dismounted. Then he reached up and before Eve even knew his intentions, his hands were about her waist and he was pulling her off the horse.
“I can dismount myself,” she objected.
“It’s been a long journey, Eve,” he replied, setting her on the ground but not releasing his hold on her. Though his concern was touching, it was also irritating, and her lack of sleep and growling stomach did make her temper short.
She swatted at his hands. “I’ve been managing just fine for eighteen summers before I met you. I do not need, nor want, your help, so please release me.”
Without a word, he did as she asked. She took a step away from him, and her legs promptly buckled. She fell to the grass with a thud that jarred her entire body and sent a spike of pain to her head. With a groan, she looked up just in time to see a torch flame to life and then Grant kneel in front of her. He had a distinctly amused look upon his face.
“You could have caught me!” she accused.
“Aye.” Laughter underlay his tone, and snickers came from Ross and Kade behind him. “I could have,” Grant confirmed. The flames flickered near his face, illuminating him. A half smirk stretched his lips and his eyebrows were arched. “Ye did say ye did nae want my help.”
“It’s not well done of you to point that out,” she grumbled. “Clearly, I had no idea my legs would buckle.”
“Clearly, ye did nae,” he agreed, raising the torch above his head. Ross bent down to take it from Grant. Suddenly, his arms slid around her, and he pulled her to her feet so quickly that she gasped. One of his arms tightened around her waist and brought her closer to him while his fingers curled into her skin. He brought his other hand to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. She sucked in a sharp breath as he said, “I kenned yer legs would likely buckle, but ye did nae wish to listen to me. It’s important to ken yer limits.”
They stood face-to-face, the length of his hard body pressed against hers, and her breath caught with the desire he stirred in her, desire she could not afford to feel. She cleared her throat and leaned away from him as much as his embrace would allow. “What are your weaknesses?”
A long silence stretched between them, and she decided he was not going to answer. But then he inhaled deeply and said, “Lairds dunnae have weaknesses.”
She suspected sons of lairds were not supposed to have them, either, and at one time, Grant did not care for that. “That’s a heavy weight to bear,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he said, releasing her. “It is. Now come. We’ll eat a bit and then sleep.”
Grant found himself repeatedly glancing at Eve as she ate beside him. Flames and shadows flickered on her face, making her look at once fierce and fragile. A strong wave of protectiveness rolled inside him, making his heart thump against his ribs. Eve was now his responsibility, just as his family and clan were. He could never forget that, despite how independent his new wife was, she had to be shielded, even from herself and her own reckless impulses, as he’d failed to do with his mother. He had to control for her what she would not, as he’d failed to do with his mother. Not only that but Grant feared the trouble Eve and Esme might get into together. He’d have to speak with Esme when they returned to the keep. In truth, it was probably time to marry off Esme, but Grant had hoped she would reconcile herself t
o a woman’s true lot before the time came. He worried she’d wed a man she could bend or manipulate to her will, just as his mother had bent Grant to her will when he’d been young and foolish, but he would choose her husband wisely, a man who would tolerate no disobedience to his command, just as Grant would not, could not. A weak man would not do for Esme, and he feared she’d end up like their mother if she was wed to a man who did not control Esme’s desire to wield a sword and fight with the warriors.
“Wine?” Ross offered Eve and held out the wine skin to her.
When Eve bent forward to reach for it, her léine parted to reveal the upper swell of her breasts. Desire hardened Grant, and he instantly recalled the silky feel of her breasts against his hands and his mouth. His innocent wife, so fearful of their joining that she’d begged him to wait, had a great deal of lust in her that he eagerly anticipated unleashing. He had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning. He considered it a definite boon that he was so attracted to her. With a little care tonight, he fully intended to show her more passion, and before they reached his home again, he was certain they would be joined.
Just as Eve’s fingers touched the wine skin, Ross jerked it away with a laugh. Eve sprang up quicker than he’d ever seen someone move and snatched the wine skin back before he had a chance to bring it close. Kade burst out laughing, and Grant assessed his wife, who was drinking greedily from the wine skin while smiling.
“Ye’re verra fast,” Ross said, finally recovering.
“Thank you.” Eve beamed. “Every summer for eight years I trained with the Summer Walkers, and before that, my father had taught me to wield a sword and a dagger.”
Grant could not stop the groan that escaped him, and Eve turned to him with a frown. “You don’t think a woman should be taught how to defend herself?” Her gentle tone surprised him. He would have expected her to be angry, but she sounded less irked and more understanding. Then it dawned on him that Esme must have spoken of his past to Eve. He had to work to unclench his teeth to respond to her.
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