A Knight To Call My Own

by Sherry Ewing

  “You have doubt of this?”

  “Aye!”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she shouted out and began shaking her fist at him. “You have done nothing to allow me to make this my home. Everyone treats me as if I serve no purpose here, other than to bring a dowry to fill your empty coffers. You have not given them any reason to believe I am your wife and our handfast is binding. If I am to remain here, then I must have their respect. Such a feat will not begin ’til you have made it known that I am the laird’s wife, and therefore, mistress of this household.”

  “Our handfast was binding and will not be undone,” Ian answered, taking a step towards her. She moved away and furthered the distance between them.

  “Prove it,” she dared him with mocking eyes.

  God’s wounds, but she was magnificent standing there with her fiery MacLaren temper pouring forth like the richest of wines. She wanted him, and she had announced it for all the clan to hear. He would not disappoint her, but ’twould be on his own terms. “So be it,” he answered gruffly.

  She smiled, but not for long. Reaching out, he took her by the hand, only to grab her about the waist to lift her high afore tossing her roughly over his shoulder. She began cursing and pounding on his back. It had little effect other than to earn her a swat on her bottom, much to the amusement of the male members of the clan who began to egg him on. She became more enraged than afore, hearing their laughter.

  Grabbing a firm hold upon her legs, Ian swung around to address the clan. “Everyone, follow me,” he ordered, and then he began making his way out of the keep.

  “Where are you taking me, Ian?” Lynet demanded, smacking his back once more.

  He retaliated with another swat to her bottom. “Keep quiet. You shall know soon enough.”

  Striding across the hall, he pulled open the massive door and a blast of cool evening air met his face. He felt her shiver. Whether ’twas from the cold, or in anger, mattered not. Ian was on a mission to have this settled once and for all, not only between himself and his wife, but for the clan, as well.

  A rush of humanity began filing out of the hall. They followed their laird closely so they did not miss the next spectacle that would surely occur. As Ian overheard the banter going on behind him, ’twas clear it had been some time since anyone had had anything to laugh over, and they were enjoying the entertainment their laird was providing.

  Ian did not have to carry her far. ’Twas but a short distance to the destination he had in mind as he listened to the rantings of his very irate wife. With each step he took, her head bounced on his back afore she caught took hold of his waist to steady the rocking of her upper body slung over his shoulder. He muffled a laugh, thinking of the sight they must surely be making. She continued to curse him to hell.

  Pushing open the door, he held the entry wide, allowing his people to precede him through the portal. The once empty space began to fill within the chamber. His mother and uncle were the last to arrive, with grim expressions marring their faces. Ian motioned for them to follow him to the front of the chapel.

  “Father Michael,” he called as the man appeared from a side door of the now overflowing chapel. He set Lynet down and held her about her waist ’til she gained her feet. When she saw where he had taken her, an O of surprise lit her features.

  “Laird MacGillivray, ’tis a pleasant surprise to see ye.” He looked around with a furrowed brow. “I have already performed the evening mass.”

  “Aye, I know and apologize for missing it,” Ian answered.

  “What do ye require of me?” the priest asked.

  Ian brought Lynet close to his side and urged her to kneel beside him at the front of the altar. “I ask you to wed us in the sight of God and these witnesses so that no one will ever again question my marriage to this woman.”

  Father Michael’s brow rose in surprise ’til he leveled his gaze upon Lynet. “Will ye have him, milady?” the priest inquired, going straight to the point.

  “Aye.” Lynet’s answer was simple, and Ian could see for himself he had pleased her.

  “Then let us begin,” Father Michael said. He stretched out his arms, motioning for those in attendance to take a seat as their voices lowered to a bare whisper. Since he had a large audience, the priest took advantage of a full house and began a short sermon.

  With bowed heads, Ian and Lynet clasped hands whilst Father Michael at last pronounced them man and wife. Ian stood holding out his hand to assist Lynet from the floor. She took it, and he could feel her fingers trembling within his. Cupping her face, he leaned down to seal their fate with a gentle kiss.

  Turning to his people, he expected to see some reservation on the faces of the clan. To his delight, most were in accordance with the match, or so it at least appeared. Only Edric looked as though he was about to yell out in protest ’til Fiona put a hand upon his arm. Though, even his mother did not appear pleased.

  Tucking Lynet’s hand in the crook of his arm, he strode the short distance to stand in front of his mother. His gaze leveled upon hers ’til she gave the slightest of nods. ’Twould have to be enough, for now.

  Ian held out his hand. “The keys, mother.”

  Fiona’s lips pursed closed in a public display of unreleased fury. A low murmur of approval raced through the chapel, as even the clan was aware her reign as chatelaine was over. Her fingers reached for the chain about her hips, she reluctantly unfastened the clasp, and the keys jangled as she turned them over to Ian.

  They did not remain long in his possession. He took the chain and put it around Lynet’s waist afore turning back to the clan. “From this day forth, let there be no doubt that the Lady Lynet is indeed my wife. Obey her, as you would obey me. Now, if you shall excuse us. I have some unfinished business with my wife.”

  If Lynet was expecting her departure from the chapel to be anything other than her arrival, then she was mistaken. Once again, Ian picked up his wife and carried her in the same manner in which she had arrived for their brief wedding ceremony. Boisterous laughter followed the couple out of the chapel and back into the Great Hall. Ian called out for a barrel of ale to be brought up from the cellars to celebrate their union.

  Neither Ian nor Lynet would indulge in such festivities going on in the Great Hall, and he took the stairs two at a time, still lugging his cursing wife. He had other ideas in mind. ’Twas long overdue that he must needs deflower his young virgin bride. He would put himself wholeheartedly into such a task.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lynet felt herself being tossed from Ian’s shoulder to land softly on their bed. Their bed. She had actually done it, and no longer would Ian find his place on the floor to rest his weary head. He would be hers from this night forward. Yet, there were still matters that must needs be set aright between them, whether he knew it, or not.

  She would not give in so easily to his charm. ’Twas practically radiating from him as he all but swaggered over to the hearth to add several logs to the low flames. The smell of burning oak filled the room, making Lynet’s nose twitch. She would ensure the chimney had a proper cleaning come the morn.

  She scooted off the bed, refusing to become such an easy conquest for him. Ian said not a word, but stood staring at her with a cocky grin plastered on his handsome face. One arm was placed upon the mantel of the hearth whilst he casually leaned against it, standing there with those sparkling hazel eyes. Eyes that never left her own and observed her every move.

  Unbuckling the belt at his waist, he slid the scabbard holding his sword from the leather and leaned the blade up against the wall. His sash came next as he placed upon the mantel the crested brooch that had held it in place upon his shoulders. His fingers took hold at the edge of his tunic, and, in one fluid motion, he removed it from his chest, flinging it to a nearby chair. Her eyes freely roamed the bared muscled skin touched with a hint of red hair. Her fingers burned in reaction. ’Twas as if she were already skimming them lightly across the hardness of his chest.<
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  The thud of his boots hitting the floor brought her out of her short-lived daydream of touching his body. But this was no hallucination, and, from the look on his face, Ian was more than willing to accommodate her demand that she become his wife this eve.

  “Come here,” he murmured. ’Twas not exactly an order, but, in Lynet’s mind, it seemed as though it might as well be one.

  “Nay.” She lifted her chin in defiance, determined he not treat her as property, but as an equal.

  He crossed the room, backing Lynet up ’til she was trapped against the wall. Her hands balled into fists to prevent her from doing the unthinkable. She knew without any doubt that to touch his scorching hot skin would doom her to fail in getting him to admit his love for her.

  Memories of their conversations at Berwyck when he had returned for her came rushing to Lynet’s mind. They stood but inches apart. Her chest heaved as she made some small attempt at catching her breath. ’Twas of no use. She loved him. Her heart had always belonged to him, from the very beginning, whether he knew it or not. He had continuously had her love, even though he had thought her nothing but a mere child, all those years ago. She would hear his declaration she had longed for, even if ’twas the last thing she did.

  Ian placed his hands on the wall above her head. He moved even closer ’til they were almost chest to chest. “By God, woman, you would deny me, yet again? I thought marrying you by our priest and in front of the entire clan would satisfy whatever schemes you had hatching in that pretty little head of yours,” he bellowed, pushing off the wall to rake his fingers through his hair in frustration. He turned his back on her and strode to the window to stare with unseeing eyes out into the darkness.

  “I do not consider it scheming in order to get what I want out of our marriage.”

  He whirled to face her. “By forcing my hand?” he yelled.

  “’Twas the only way I could think of for you to come to your senses.”

  “Come to my senses?” he repeated. “Was it your desire to have every man in that room ogle you like some common strumpet?”

  Lynet ignored such an offensive comment and shrugged. “I only cared that one man was gawking at me. Were you, or were you not, intrigued having me dressed like my sister?”

  A grunted laugh escaped him. “You would bring up Amiria, now, of all times?”

  “Aye! I want no mistake that when you bed me, ’tis me, and not my sister, you think of.”

  “You should not have dressed like her then, if you were looking for a different outcome, for she is exactly who I first thought of.”

  “I am not my sister,” Lynet said firmly and felt dismay, realizing she may have erred trying to emulate Amiria.

  “Nay, you are not.”

  “’Twas meant to get your attention.”

  “I assure you, lass, you obtained your objective.” His arms folded across his chest. He waited for her to continue.

  “I want no misunderstandings between us, Ian. I only did what I needed to do in order to earn some respect in this household. Your mother has ruled with an iron fist, as if this keep was still hers to command.”

  “She is my mother. That will not change.”

  “Nay, ’twill not. Yet, ’tis time she also learn her place, now you have brought home a wife.”

  “I am sure there is no doubt in her mind where her place is after handing you the keys to the keep, Lynet. You are now chatelaine, and none shall go against your orders, or they will answer to me.”

  “And I thank you for it, although it should have been determined from the moment we walked through the front gates.”

  “There were other matters of more import to attend.”

  “Not to me,” Lynet answered, lifting her chin, yet again. “I wanted some reassurance of my place, along with knowing you no longer have feelings for Amiria.”

  “The only feeling I have for Amiria is that she is your sister. Anything else that happened in the past is just that, and best left there.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “But what of you?” Ian asked with raised brow. “Will there be the memory of another man in our bed, Lynet?”

  Rolf’s face flashed briefly in her mind. “Nay, there has been no other holding my heart but you,” she declared honestly.

  “Then all is settled between us,” Ian declared.

  “Not quite.” Lynet was not sure what sound emitted from the man who was holding his temper in check by the barest of minimums.

  “What more do you want of me?” he jeered.

  “I want everything.” Lynet willed herself to remain where she was, instead of going to him. ’Twas one of the hardest things she had ever done, besides defy him.

  He was upon her faster than she thought humanly possible. His breathing was ragged, as though he tried to control himself from what only he knew for sure. She put her hands upon his chest to hold him off. ’Twas a mistake, she knew, but she would tell him her heart’s desire and pray he felt the same.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows.

  Lynet reached up to smooth the wrinkle upon his forehead afore placing both her hands upon his cheeks. “I want to be your everything, Ian, just as you are mine. When your eyes behold the beauty of a sunrise, I want you to think only of me and the love we share. I want to be the air in your lungs when you take a breath, the blood in your veins as it goes rushing to your heart to pump the very life into you, the tingle in your fingertips when we touch, the sweetness tasted upon your lips and tongue. I want my kiss to be the one that puts your soul at ease.”

  “You ask much.”

  ’Twas a quiet statement, and yet Lynet could tell he was pleased by her words. “Not really, for is that not what love is all about? I do not wish to be treated as your chattel, Ian, but to stand proudly next to your side, knowing I am loved.”

  “I took you to wife,” he whispered.

  “Aye, you did. Yet, that does not mean you love me.”

  He reached out to pull at a lock of her hair and began rubbing the tresses between his fingers as he considered her words. “Surely, you must know I care for you, Lynet.”

  She gave a brief laugh, for she was not sure what to believe as he took another step closer. Air rushed from her lungs. She tried to find her next breath, but he had stolen it from her, along with her heart, with just one look into his hazel eyes. “You do?”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Prove it,” she challenged him with the same words she spoke in the hall.

  He leaned down, placing his forehead upon hers as he made his vow. “I shall do so, even if it takes all of my days, my lady,” he whispered huskily, caressing her cheek.

  “And what of the nights, my laird?” she murmured in return.

  “They belong only to you.”

  “Forevermore?”

  “For forever and a day.”

  “Then love me, Ian,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, “and make me your wife.”

  His lips breathed life into her with his kiss. ’Twas gentle at first afore it became demanding. ’Twas her own doing, since she urged him on by molding herself into his body. She had waited a lifetime for this very moment, and she would not deny herself the pleasure of his touch.

  Ian’s hand snaked around her legs and he scooped her up in his arms. He walked over to the bed where she slowly slid down the length of his body to rock on wavering legs. How she was able to stand on her own was beyond her ken, once he touched her. Her skin felt both hot and cold at the same time. ’Twas as if ’twere not her own. Every nerve felt alive as her body’s inner cravings heightened with her need to be close to him.

  His mouth brushed lightly down her neck ’til his tongue flicked its way even lower to her breasts showing above her tunic. ’Twas in the way of the bountiful treasure he now sought, and Ian made quick work of removing the fabric from her body. She gasped when he took one nipple in his mouth, raising it to a peak afore turning his attention to the othe
r. She had no notion where to put her hands, so she interlaced her fingers with the reddish-brown tresses of his hair whilst she took a firm hold.

  He gave an amused chuckle afore he continued his exquisite torture. Surely, there would be no doubt left in what little was left of her mind he cared for her after he had his way with her. His hands slowly caressed their way down the curve of her hips then brushed against the flatness of her stomach. She had no idea what he would do next ’til her hose puddled at her feet, and the coolness of the air hit her skin like an icy cold blast of awareness.

  Ian threw back the pelts from the bed whilst his plaid quickly disappeared from his glorious body. She had never seen a man nude afore, but this specimen afore her eyes surely must have been carved in God’s image. He was beautiful, and he was hers.

  Climbing into the bed, Ian seemed in no hurry whilst he propped himself on one elbow to feast his eyes upon her body. She felt a blush starting from the tips of her toes and rising everywhere in between. She reached for the covers, but his hand grabbed hers to stop its progress.

  “Nay,” he murmured, stealing yet another kiss. “I will not have your beauty covered. I have waited long enough to see you, Lynet. Even my dreams were tortured with wanting you.”

  “They were?” Was that actually her voice? Those raspy words that were part moan, part question, and part innocence?

  “Aye.” His fingers began playing with her own as her nerves were pricked with anticipation of the unknown.

  Lying side by side, Lynet studied his eyes, marveling at the emotions that fleetingly swept across his visage. “I do not want to disappoint you,” she declared honestly.

  “I cannot imagine how you would,” he answered with a small smile.

  “I do not know what to do, or even what you like.”

  “I shall show you.”

  “You will?”

  “Aye, my lady, I will, indeed. But that will be for another eve. As I promised, tonight belongs to you.”

  She may have mumbled some answer, and yet he did not wait for one afore he began to leave a blazing trail of kisses down the length of her body. She gasped when he touched her where no other had ever dared afore. Embarrassed to the very core of her being, he only continued his loving assault on her senses ’til pleasure replaced all her inhibitions.