The Draig's Wife

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

Emma’s voice was soft when she continued. “To Mary, Aalish is the only mother she has ever known. This is why she begs to go to the village every day. Playing with Brina and the other children is only part of it. She misses the home she knew.”

  His hands wiped over the stubble on his face, and then he stared at Emma, who waited patiently. It seemed to Declan her anger had dissipated the moment she found her victory. The lass is too much like Cortland, for he does the same. “Mary’s home is here,” Declan declared.

  “Yes, it is. So now we make it a good one for her. She adores Meggie, Cortland, and Merrick. Mary is uncomfortable with you.” Her hands shot up before he had a chance to share the nasty response he was about to deliver. “I’m not trying to insult you. It’s simply the truth. You need to spend some time with her. Though I understand you are busy with being laird and all, but a few minutes every day would make a huge difference.”

  Again, she was correct. He should explain why he kept away from his child, but he had no wish to give voice to his greatest fear to the woman. Declan inhaled and let the air hiss out between his teeth. No man liked to be told he was a poor father when they already knew it to be true. “Mary will sit with me at the evening meal, and we will speak of the day’s events. ‘Tis acceptable to you?”

  Emma’s attempts to keep the grin off her face failed miserably. “I think it’s perfect. Now, I heard you when you said Mary needed to be taught how to run a household. Meggie has said the same thing. I will make certain she spends time everyday learning these tasks. Cortland has also stated I need to learn how things are done here. Mary and I will learn together. Only when the work is done will we go to the village. Agreed?”

  Her hand shot out. The lass is daft if she believes deals with women are made in such ways. To teach her a lesson on what happens to foolish lasses who offer body parts, he lifted her hand to his mouth and gently brushed his lips over her knuckles. With his gaze locked on hers, he felt her body stiffen while her eyes rounded like the moon. Declan was too experienced with women to miss the slight gasp from her parted lips. In another time and place, he would have taken immediate advantage of the situation. Instead, he whispered, “Agreed,” and dropped her hand before giving into the insane impulse of pulling her close.

  “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Emma asked, clearly flustered, which pleased him far too much.

  Declan chuckled at what he could do with such a loaded question but left it alone. Causing her so many visible reactions tickled him to no end. “There is one more matter. When you go to the village, take an armed man with you. I have heard too much news of raiders close to my lands. I trust Cortland has shared our concerns over threats from my uncle as well.” Cortland made it no secret he shared all with Emma.

  Her laughter caught him off guard. “In case you weren’t told, I am more than capable of keeping Mary safe.”

  “You are but one lass. If we are attacked, you will need a warrior with a sword.” At the comment, fire again sparked in her eyes. The reaction from her was quickly becoming a favorite. Blue fire and the thought of her gasp when he kissed her hand mixed in his mind. What a fine combination those must be, he mused.

  “Ask Cortland. I am more than capable of defending Mary from an armed man. In practice, I have held off three,” Emma boasted. He heard her pride and, for just a moment, saw raw determination in her eyes. Yet, she surprised him. “Fine, we take an armed man. Mary will have two capable of keeping her safe.”

  With her claim, Declan laughed. In that instant, she joined him in his merriment, and the room previously filled with tension became a surprisingly comfortable space. My mistake. I dropped my guard. I will never survive as laird sharing soft-hearted nonsense with a woman who challenges me at every turn. Declan quickly hardened his features and straightened his large frame.

  Her eyes blinked rapidly at his change in mood, which was for the best. Emma needed only to deal with the laird, nothing more. “We are agreed. You may leave.” The words were clipped, leaving no room for misunderstanding or negotiation.

  With her hands straightening her skirts, she said, “Cortland is waiting for me anyway.”

  With a knowing smile, Declan replied, “Of course he is. Cortland has become a verra doting father. It would nay be well done of him to leave you alone with me for too long.” Her eyebrow rose at the lascivious tone in his voice, but for the first time, she offered no challenge. Declan nodded, and she walked in dismissal to the door. That he watched her backside sway in the skirt was only his concern.

  Reflexes reacted before thought as he reached out to steady her when she stumbled at the door that failed to open. One arm wrapped around her waist to hold her upright while the other reached for the bolt he had previously locked. Her body molded against his, and he delighted that her height brought her to his chin. “‘Tis locked,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. Again, acting solely on impulse, he leaned closer to inhale the sweetness of her hair with her back secure against his chest.

  She was firm in the middle, which intrigued him immensely. He was used to women being soft everywhere his hands wandered. His wayward hand slipped to hold her still at her hip. Even though the fabric, he could feel her pulse race. The small squeak from her lips stirred his already heated blood and banished the notion that she should leave so quickly.

  Her shoulder pushed back against his chest and nudged him back from her body. “What are you doing?” Emma asked.

  What am I doing? He had just spent valuable time arguing and negotiating when he should have commanded. Searching her gaze, the blue fire beckoned to him as if calling him by name. Stepping to close the small distance she had put between them, he tugged at the baggy material around her waist. With a smile that had won him many a night buried in soft flesh, he whispered, “Keeping you from landing on your back unless ‘tis where you prefer to be.”

  Tingles and fire coursed through his body as she gasped in surprise. For all her previous anger toward him, she was not immune to his charms. Her eyes fluttered briefly, and her body leaned forward as if seeking his. That pleased him greatly.

  “Very funny,” Emma said, stepping back. “I need to go. Cortland is waiting.” Only a fool would miss the fact that her gaze fell everywhere but on him.

  Cortland’s name doused the flames and brought him back to his senses. Once again, the lass had annoyed him. Emma needed to be treated as his first man’s daughter. He was disgusted with himself at how quickly he had forgotten and had become lost in the floral fragrance of her hair and feel of her firm flesh. Such mistakes cannot happen again. He needed Cortland in more ways than he could count.

  With great effort, he forced the grin from his lips and hardened his gaze while his eyes explored her body. With his eyes locked on her unimpressive chest, his words were cold and meant to insult. “You flatter yourself, Emma. There is nay enough here to keep my attention.”

  Meeting her gaze, he expected a burst of anger or maybe even a slap across his face. Both would have been deserved. Instead, there was a quick flash of hurt before she pushed him aside and fled the chamber.

  He would have preferred anger. Still, it was for the best. Though Emma smelled fine and felt unique to his hands, she was not for him. He needed to focus on finding a wife and not angering the man he depended on for advice. As Cortland’s daughter, she was forbidden. Despite his testy parting comment, he had spoken the truth. He had to remind himself that he preferred a softer woman with enough bounty to overfill his greedy hands.

  His thoughts drifted to the woman who had kept him company the previous evening at the Campbell keep. No one of great import, but she filled him in on the gossip he should know given how their clans were tied. The lass had every curve he desired and knew exactly what to do with each. If only she had smelled as sweet or had a mind as sharp as the lass I just pushed away.

  Thoughts drif
ted to curiosity as he sat behind his desk. What would it be like to bed a woman who let every thought dance over her face? Someone who sought no coin, offered no deception, and was simply in the moment with me. Pushing the musing aside, he knew he was too jaded for such a gift.

  Even with his strong attraction to Emma, she was too bold for his tastes. No man wished to argue with a woman to have his passions roused. Are all the women from clan lore, from the mystical land of Arizona, so audacious and unrelenting? He questioned his ancestors’ sanity. Their lives must have contained misery after misery with a woman who questioned every decision made.

  His lips quirked as he pondered the edict that determined his path in life. He decided he believed the tale of his great-grandmother being from the far away land and time. Declan pitied the Bruce for having to stand against her.

  Chapter 5

  Cortland and Emma stopped in front of her chamber door. “‘Twas a fine effort you gave this morn. The lessons you shared will be put to good use later with the men.”

  Such praise filled her with pride and tickled her down to her deerskin-booted feet. Cortland was the hardest trainer she had ever worked with, and that alone was quite the thought. Emma grinned. “Then I will make a point of stopping by the field to make sure you are teaching it correctly.”

  Their shared laughter abruptly ended as Mary tugged on her belt. While the linen shirt and leather pants, or trews, were all she needed to workout, Emma always wore her black belt out of habit and pride.

  “Why are you dressed like a lad?” Mary asked as she looked up.

  Pushing the girl’s sleep-mused hair out of her face, Emma struggled for a cover story. “Because I was out for a walk with my da, and this is much more comfortable.” She hated deceiving the child, but some truths were not to be told. Declan had been kind enough to provide a long list of what was not to be spoken. Thankfully, Cortland delivered the requirements.

  No one could know the true story behind her arrival or past. She could train only in the hour at dawn, when no one would be awake to see them. No trews during the day. She couldn’t have a sword strapped to her hip in the village, though Cortland hadn’t liked that one either. She had earned the privilege in his eyes. No trying to change anything, even if her methods were more effective. Her Escrima sticks were to stay hidden in her chest under her gowns. “No this and no that”; the list went on and on. She often thought it was amazing she was allowed to breathe without supervision.

  Mary’s voice disturbed her irritating thoughts. “I thought mayhap you trained like the men.”

  “Why would you say that?” Emma asked. If the child knew, Declan would have a fit. Not that he would confront her, he would make Cortland do it.

  “Why else would you dress like the men,” Mary stated simply. Her small hand touched the leather covering Emma’s thigh. “Can I have trews too?”

  There was no falsehood in her reply. “Your father would have a fit if I gave you trews. I seem to constantly be in trouble with him. Let’s not make it worse.” The idea sparked in her mind. Mary was certainly old enough to be enrolled in the classes she taught at the dojo. Her youngest students were four years old. Her gaze swept the girl from head to toe. With her small build, self-defense would give her the confidence she had trouble maintaining, not to mention an edge in a world filled with danger. Shaking the thought away, Emma knew she pushed the envelope enough, if not too much.

  Cortland sank to his knees before Mary. “I am a poor father allowing my lass to dress in such a manner, so you must nay speak of it to any. Can you keep our secret?”

  “Aye, Cortland. I would nay have my da yell at Emma again.”

  Cortland rose and shook his head at the comment. While “yell” might have been an overstatement, “harsh tone” fit the description. Even now, Declan’s voice rang in her ears. “Why is my lass scrubbing floors? Why is Mary carrying dirty sheets? Why is she dusting furniture?” The answers had all been the same: you can’t tell someone what to do if you don’t know how to do it yourself. It was her grandmother’s wisdom mixed with a bit of Meggie. When they had been clearing breakfast dishes the day before, Declan hadn’t asked the question. He’d just scowled at her. A welcome improvement.

  The man had a knack for being everywhere. His piercing emerald gaze followed her every step. She always felt the tingle up her spine right before she would turn to face his impassive gaze. It bothered her that Declan seemed to be at every turn and that she always knew he was there before she saw him. But it bothered her more that she wanted approval from him. She refused to even think that she wanted more than that. He’d already made it clear he found her unattractive, and for some reason that hurt more than it should have.

  Emma wondered at the dichotomy of the man Cortland served and loved. Declan was harsh and gruff when he wanted something done. Brusque thanks seemed to be as warm and fuzzy as he ever became in public. Cortland swore that Declan had a kinder side that few saw. Emma had her doubts.

  After her conversation with Declan the previous week in his study, Cortland had nearly blown a gasket. Emma had calmed the man by insisting he was most likely making sure she wasn’t some sort of floosy that would be a poor influence on Mary. Given the way Declan had grumbled at her all week, any confusion over his behavior left her mind. It’s not like I’m a big enough fool to think a handsome laird would have any interest in me.

  She had told Aalish about the encounter and the stance she had taken against the man who ruled the land, concerned she may have pushed too hard. Her friend only laughed and commended her on taking a stand. She left out how the moment wrapped in his arms had burned her body. She refused to let anyone ever hear about the way her heart had hammered and the tingles that had spread down her spine when Declan inhaled her hair. No one would ever hear how much his final insult had wounded her. While she’d heard it before, it was brutal from his lips.

  Glancing again at the child who waited patiently, Emma noted she was only wearing a shift and robe. “How about this. You go get dressed while I clean up a bit. When I am dressed, I will help you with your hair, and we can make my da something to eat.”

  “Emma, the lasses do the cooking,” Mary answered with laughter.

  “Not today. They are waiting for us to come and help.” Mary groaned, and Emma chuckled. She lifted on her toes and placed a quick kiss on Cortland’s cheek. “We’ll see you in the hall shortly with something to break your fast.”

  Cortland ruffled Mary’s hair and left the quiet of his chamber. Mary looked up with something close to fear in her eyes. “I dinna ken how to cook.” The statement was a soft whisper.

  “You will have some skill before we leave the kitchens today. Don’t worry. I will be there to help you, as will the lasses.” Mary’s look softened, and Emma reached down to hug the girl. “Hurry now. Get dressed. There will be a great many hungry men waiting for their meal.”

  Mary scurried quickly into her chamber; the girl always reacted promptly when told what to do and thrived on the praise. Walking into her chamber, Emma noticed them immediately. There were new gowns on the bed. She now had a wardrobe of her own, and one that fit. Touching the dark blue fabric, she sighed at the soft feel. Cortland spoiled her with better material than most wore. The craftsmanship was amazing, and the fit was like nothing she had ever worn before; custom clothing had its benefits. She no longer looked ridiculous in baggie sacks. What had been made for her even offered the illusion she had a figure. She had one, but the laced bodice almost made her look like she had breasts and was much more comfortable than the insane push-up bra she had purchased in high school.

  Emma dressed after a quick wash and wondered if Merrick would be able to come up with a unique compliment for the new dress, like he had every other. The jury may be out on his loyalty, but he was quite the charmer.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Emma, it smell verra
fine in here,” Mary said, leaning over the platter loaded with the last batch of French toast.

  “It certainly does,” she quickly agreed. It had been a lovely surprise to find cinnamon in the spice cabinet. The small project had quickly turned into a major production. The women in the kitchen fussed and cooed while Mary beat eggs and soaked bread. All wanted a taste after Emma had done the cooking, so more needed to be made. The unique flavor had been devoured in the hall faster than they could make them.

  Flipping the last slice onto the loaded platter, Emma and Mary made their way to the hall. Mary called out, “Cortland, I have your meal.” Her pride echoed and glowed on her face until Mary caught sight of the man seated across from Cortland. “My father is here,” she whispered nervously.

  While Declan had been true to his word and eaten his dinner with his daughter each night, cozy was not exactly how Emma would describe the relationship. But she gave Declan credit for trying.

  Emma set the platter between the two men. “Who’s hungry?” She sat next to Cortland and was not surprised to feel Mary sit by her side. She didn’t miss the disappointment on Declan’s face that flashed for only a heartbeat.

  Stacking several slices on each man’s plate, then Mary’s and finally her own, Emma said, “Tell them what to put on top of it, Mary.”

  The child lifted the small pot in her hands and placed it gingerly on the wooden table. She beamed as she said, “Honey.”

  Cortland poured a small amount on his and hers before he ate the first bite. Stuffing in a larger second bite, he mumbled, “So fine.” After a swallow, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I am a fortunate father to have a daughter to make such a delicious meal for me.”

  With heat blushing her cheeks over the compliment, Emma waited for Declan to offer something, anything, to Mary, especially since she had just given Mary credit for most of the work. “What do you think, Declan?” Emma asked as she watched the man inhale a second slice.