“Stop the macho bull and stop the horse so I can see how bad the damage is.”
“Nay.”
“Nay?” Pig headed idiot. “Are we going to fight about this?”
“Only if you choose to order me to rein in.”
“What if I say pretty please?” She even turned on her best sickeningly sweet tone.
“Nay.”
“Iaen, what if you are really hurt? I couldn't find my way back to Castle Kincaid. I'll starve to death in a day.”
“Wife, calm thyself. You forget, I am never alone. There are at least half a dozen crofters watching us.”
“I don't see anybody.” Curling her fingers into the thick material covering his chest, she hung on for dear life. Fear gripped her heart. She couldn't take this. What if he died? Born beneath an unlucky star—yep, that was her. Born to watch the people she loved meet untimely deaths—that was her, too.
“That's because you are hiding your face against my cloak. If you'd but look.”
“Iaen, I'm scared.” Cautiously peeking to the side, she saw several men running toward them, all wearing the black, gold and green plaid of Clan Kincaid. Some carried long bows, arrows nocked, poised to fly. “Are we going back to the castle?” She willed him to tell her they were going home.
“Nay, we'll stay in the Laird's cottage tonight.”
“Milord,” a crofter called. “Did you see who shot at you?”
Iaen shook his head. “Assist my lady onto her horse and see she is taken to the Laird's cottage.”
“I won't leave you.” She gripped his cloak with all her might.
“Shh, I'll be only a few moments.” He tossed his reins to a farmer. Brushing his hand down her hair, he laid a kiss to her head. “Trust me, sweetling.”
***
With the crofter's help, Iaen managed to get Jenny to release him. Once she was off his lap, he swung his leg over the back of the Black.
“'Tis luck your mantle caught most of the damage, milord.”
“Aye,” Iaen agreed as he reached across his chest and pulled the arrow out. He'd known his cloak had taken most of the damage.
“Let me see,” Jenny was at his side before aught could stop her. She lifted his mantle away searched the spot. “You scared the hell out of me for a scratch. It's hardly even bleeding.” She balled up her fist and punched him square in the chest. “Ow.”
His little warrior was back in true form and if the sparkle of anger dancing in her eyes was any indication, she'd gladly run him through. Wrapping her in his embrace, he drank in a lungful of air then expelled it slowly. If Jenny had been injured, by God, the ground would run red with Wulfson blood.
“I'd sleep with one eye open this eve, milord.” A crofter teased him.
Iaen chuckled with him, but sobered quickly. 'Twas the feel of her nuzzling his chest that brought up all his fury. “Jenny, go with Oswald. I promise I'll not be long.”
He gritted his teeth when he saw the tears swimming in her eyes. “You've naught to fear.” Tucking an errant curl behind her ear, he brushed his fingers down her cheek.
“What if I'm worried for you?”
“'Twill take more than an arrow to lay me low,” he lied, he hoped convincingly. “Go, milady. I'd know you are safe.”
“Okay.” She released him with reluctance.
He whistled for Serendipity. The loyal filly trotted to where they stood. Lifting Jenny into the saddle, he sent her a wink of reassurance. “Until later, milady.”
She managed a nod but she looked so unhappy his heart hurt for her. “I'll be waiting.” Her fingers wrapped around the high pommel as Oswald led her away.
Iaen waited until he was sure Jenny was out of earshot. Racing back up to the top of the moor, he stood on the dry winter grass. Bracing his feet wide, he propped his fists on his hips. This insult was inexcusable. He scanned the border. “If you want me, here I stand!”
Behind him, he heard the crofters make the trek.
“Wulfson!”
His sword sang from its home. Holding his blade aloft, he ground his teeth together. Anger surged through his veins. The arrow hadnae been meant for him. Nay. 'Twas meant for Jenny. Why would Laird Wulfson want to harm Jenny? “Meet me like a warrior, you coward!”
His challenge echoed over the land. Afore the final reverberation fell off, Iaen's battle cry rent the air twain.
Spinning around on the heel of his boot, Iaen headed for the Laird's cottage and Jenny.
His gaze slid to the sun dipping low on the horizon, he sighed. 'Twas too late to head for home and sound a warning. It also didn't help that he couldnae leave Jenny unguarded in the crofter's cottage his sire had stayed in when he hunted for the holiday banquet. He'd followed the tradition of taking on a hunt the same way his sire had, and stayed in the cottage. In a way, it took him back to his childhood.
Some of his happiest memories revolved around coming to the border for these few days.
A shrill whistle rent the air. His stallion trotted over to meet him at the base. With his footsteps rustling the grass, he gained his saddle. He noted a young boy standing near whom he suspected was his father.
The filly.
Aye, Serendipity could make the trip in half the time with a light rider. “Lad, I need you to take a message to Castle Kincaid. Can you do it?”
The boy didnae look to his father, but took several steps forward. He nodded.
Iaen waited for the boy to finish his short trip and addressed him when he stood beside his warhorse. “I'm sending you on an important task.” Offering the boy his hand, he pulled him up behind him. “Listen to me carefully, lad. This is what I need you to do.”
***
Jenny was as antsy as all get out. Her reaction to Iaen's wound was unforgivable. Hell, she hadn't even had the common sense to wait until they were in the privacy of the cottage before she let loose on her anger.
He was probably going to kill her for acting like a twit and she couldn't muster up a drop of self-righteous indignation. She was his lady. The nodding, gently smiling countenance who didn't lose her temper with the lowliest member of the clan. A fresh blast of warmth crept up her face. Pressing her palms to her cheeks, she heaved another sigh.
She'd really screwed up this time.
If she was geared like Lila, she'd have found a way to blame Iaen. Her already guilty conscience wouldn't let her go down that road. It wasn't how she'd been raised either.
If you make a mistake, fess up and hope to God it wasn't too late.
It was a bit of her mother's advice she'd taken to heart. Dammit. If she knew Iaen better, she could come up with a way to make it up to him. In the very least, she could project his response to her stupidity.
Shifting her head when the door opened, she bit her lip at Iaen's frowning face. “I'm sorry about yelling at you,” she apologized in a rush. “I don't know what's gotten into me. To talk to you like that, and in front of your clansmen, was unforgivable.”
Her body froze as he slid the bolt home. Her pulse blasted in her ears while he removed his cloak and placed it on the peg next to hers. There was something intimate about seeing the two garments side by side. Intimidating, too. His was huge. Hers, not so much. “Iaen, I can't tell you how sorry I am. Please, forgive me.” She stood when he kept moving closer. “I'll do anything to make it up to you.”
He strode forward, his frown deepening into a scowl. “Are you afraid of me, wife?”
Damn straight she was. She shook her head. “Maybe a little.” Okay, that was terribly definitive. Step for step, he tracked her around the table. “No,” she squealed as he caught her.
“Do you expect me to beat you, wife?”
Jerked against him, her hands plastered to his tunic-covered chest, the rock hard muscles beneath her palms had her shivering with fear. The forearm holding her firmly to his frame didn't leave a doubt that Iaen did what he wanted to, when he wanted to do it.
“'Tis a simple aye or nay question.”
�
��I know it is.” What do you expect me to say? Sure, go ahead and hit me if it makes you feel better. Plucking up her courage, she blurted out the first thing that sprang to the tip of her tongue. “I think beating a woman is deplorable.”
The exasperated rush of air wafting across her hair warned her to keep her wits about her. “I hate the idea,” she corrected in the right language.
“Good.”
“Huh?”
“I donnae wish to repeat myself.”
“Okay.”
His gaze drilled into the top of her head. “You may speak your mind to me, though I prefer it be behind the closed door of our chamber.”
“Really?” She couldn't have heard him right.
“Aye.”
It reminded her of the relationship her parents had. They weren't perfect. Nope. They had arguments, but when they did, they didn't throw verbal barbs at each other around her. Instead, they'd go to their bedroom, shut the door and get it out in the open where they could deal with it. A few times, she heard the shouting, a few curses or a threat of separation, but it was all bluster. Normally, supper, or if the disagreement happened late at night, breakfast the next morning was a chilly affair, but by the time her dad got home from work, all was practically fine. “How is your arm?”
“Would you clean the wound for me?”
A shadow of a smile slipped across her lips. He dipped his head to nibble on her ear lobe. Delicious tingles traveled up her arms and her nipples hardened to tight buds. “Are you giving me busy work, milord?”
“That I am, milady.” He stroked his hand up her back to twine his fingers in her hair. The other went south to cup her ass through the layers of clothing. The firm grip, massaged her tender flesh, and pulled her against his erection nestled into her belly. A soft gasp rushed from her lungs.
A quiver of desire strolled up her inner thighs to mingle in her core. “Yes,” she whispered when he picked her up and set her on the tabletop. They weren't even naked yet but her brain was already spinning in a sensual haze. Tugging on his long hair, she steered his mouth to hers. Initiating the kiss, emboldened by him, she slanted her lips on his.
He growled when she didn't deepen the kiss. Her brief stint at being in the lead ended in the sweep of his tongue across her lips and his gentle grip on breast. The truth was she liked how they came to an unspoken compromise with sex. When she fell short, he took over. When he was uncertain if she was game, such as last night when she'd initiated a different position, he accepted the change with gusto. An addictive gusto she wanted to foster.
Surprisingly, she like her men open minded.
Curling her arms around his shoulders, their tongues mating, she squirmed against him. Her body desperate for his. The table was hard against her back, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the man doing amazing things to her body. She quivered when he bunched her skirt around her hips, his hand smoothing over her naked thighs to where her panties covered her heat.
His fingers stilled.
She gazed at him, her blush returning. “Sorry, I can't get used to drawers.”
Other than the baggy wool long-john-esque underwear being about as sexy as a parent lecturing a teenager on the birds and the bees, she had a real problem with the knowledge they were hand-me-downs. There was just something about that truth which turned her completely off.
He straightened, stripped off his tunic and tossed it aside. The play of his muscles, the firelight turning his skin a burnished gold hue, had her back in the mood. The anticipation became a palpable energy in the ether.
His blue eyes darkened. Easing her panties down, he laid a kiss to her knee. Her underwear followed the path of his tunic. She couldn’t have cared less where they landed.
A long line of kisses traced up her thigh. His lips leading the way until she was shaking with lust. So close. So damn close. She silently beckoned him to send her into the passionate stratosphere.
The first tease of his tongue across her wet folds would have jerked her off the table had he not held her down with a hand settled on her chest. Through her bodice, he massaged her aching breast until her already hard nipples became painful nubs.
She wanted him—now.
Her back arched as he eased her calf onto his shoulder and his hot breath on her femininity made her crazy for him. She bucked when he held her free thigh down. Open to him, the throb in the pit of her belly turned to a driving pound. “Please,” she cried.
The gentle stroke of his tongue across her clit was pure bliss. Then he inserted his finger, and added another. Squirming, urgency enveloped her. She started to gasp. The more his mouth worked on her and his fingers moved in her, the thicker the haze of desire.
“Iaen!” she cried when he moved away.
“Easy, lass.” Leaning over her, he made quick work of her laces. Releasing her breasts, he feasted. He suckled and nipped until she writhed. Tension built in her until she felt ready to snap. She braced her hands on the worn smooth surface of the table and arched her back.
“Yes,” she moaned when he jerked her against his fabric-covered cock. “I want you.”
She was more than ready for him. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” Anticipating his next move, her gaze slashed from his face to the thick line of dark hair cutting a bee-line to his erection. As if in slow motion, he undid the ties and released his cock. It was a scene right out of a porno. He was the hot hunk of muscle and she was at his mercy with her ankle propped decadently on his shoulder.
Jenny sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I can't wait any longer.” Hell no. She sensed he was in the same situation. Her eyes returned to his face. “Iaen, don't torment me.”
Abiding her, he slammed into her, and forced a scream of ecstasy from her throat. He wrapped his hand around her shoulder, the other cupped her bottom. There was nothing measured about his thrusts this time.
He plunged into her with abandon. His thick shaft filled her completely. Each thrust bringing her sensitive nub into contact with the base until she couldn't hold back.
Contractions ripped through her all the way down to her toes. “Don't stop,” she hadn't realized she'd screamed her command until he chuckled.
She'd never been multi-orgasmic, but damn. She wanted to feel her climax again. Wanted him to come with her. “Give it to me, Iaen.”
She was already quivering when he gritted his teeth. Her second orgasm in as many minutes overwhelmed her. “Now.”
His hot ejaculation surged into her in the same instant her feminine muscles milked him. “Oh...oh...oh.” She pulled him down, hugging him. He gathered her to him, his weight braced on his elbows. “Thanks,” she whispered, haltingly, against his hair.
“For?”
“I don't...know.” She did. He made her feel desirable and cherished at the same time. It was crazy since she had hardly spent any time with him since coming to the past, but Iaen was getting under her skin in a good way.
How easy would it be to fall in love with him?
Too easy.
Chapter Nine
I reserve the right to change my mind.
The man was a pain in her ass. Gritting her teeth together, Jenny wanted to kill Iaen. Not only had he left her in the middle of the night to meet with someone, but he'd had her escorted home by twelve warriors.
Dammit, she'd felt like an errant schoolgirl who'd gotten caught smoking in the bathroom. She wasn't even allowed to ride Serendipity but was given a worn out mare. It wouldn't have been so bad except the horse's pace was about as fast as a slug crossing hot pavement. The other tangent that sent her rage into overdrive was when none of her guard would talk to her. They weren't even halfway back to Castle Kincaid when she started wondering what she'd done wrong.
She'd done nothing wrong except share hot sex with a man who continuously tore down the walls she'd built up around her heart. It just wasn't fair.
Her ire grew in direct proportion to the number of hours Iaen stayed away. A silver lining in her anger was she fi
nally got to the bottom of the Kevin and Charlzie debacle. After a heated discussion with her friend, she finally told Charlzie the truth. These men don't give a shit about birth control. They want babies.
The expression on Charlzie's face was priceless. For the life of her, she couldn't get it through her thick skull that heirs and spares were important in the medieval times. Under orders to go home and explain to Kevin that the shot only lasted for a little while, Jenny turned to taking control of her life.
She had the Keep buzzing before Iaen returned. The spare bedroom was refurnished. The holiday menu was planned to the last detail and all the linens were counted. With Elspeth by her side, Jenny chose the crockery that would be used for the high table, and got her seating chart formulated in her mind. Lila remained a wild card, but Father Thomas informed her Lila was spending some quality time with God and he didn't know when she'd return to the castle.
Jenny didn't know what he meant or care by that point.
All she wanted was to get at the object of her ire.
She'd just handed Mary over to Patricia when he walked in. “Where the hell have you been?” The shout slipped out of her mouth so fast, she didn't have time to realize Iaen wasn't alone.
Sending him a good glare to let him know she wasn't letting him off the hook, Jenny strode forward and offered the stranger her hand. “Hello.”
“Aye, she's a spitfire for certain,” the stranger said.
Jenny gritted her teeth and forced a smile to her lips.
“From Ireland, you say?”
“Aye,” Iaen said.
Jenny didn't have a clue what they were talking about. “And you are?”
“Laird Wulfson,” Iaen informed her. “He wishes to pay his respect to you, milady. Yesterday, a member of his clan shot at you.”
“At me?” What the fuck?
“I assure you, milady, the man has been punished.”
“Thanks, that's good to know,” Jenny muttered. She held up a finger. I’ll never make sense of these people. The thought echoed in her head. “Why did he shoot at me?”
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