“Oh yeah. No one’s argued with me in days,” Emma laughed. Her features fell into a quick frown. “I just realized I’ve missed the arguments. Maybe I’m getting sick, too.”
“Dinna jest over your health. Though he also misses the fire in your eyes. I vow to pick a quarrel as soon as I am able. Will that appease you?” Declan teased.
Her face sobered. “Just get your strength back.”
The sincere concern in her voice warmed his heart. Reaching his hand out, he waited for her to take it. When her fingers were wrapped within his, he said, “You saved my life and Mary’s with your care. I have no way to thank you.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about debt,” Emma warned, pulling back her hand to wag her finger at him.
“Is there naught you would ask for?” Declan asked, testing her.
She sat in silence, and he watched her face play out her every thought and knew the moment she had her request. “I want your promise that no matter who you marry I can spend time with Mary.”
The request did not surprise him in the least and suited his purpose for keeping her with him late in the night. Smiling at her, he answered, “If I have my way, you may spend as much time as you wish with her.”
Emma chuckled and seemed to relax. “Then I’ll plan on lots of time since you tend to get your way.”
“‘Tis the advantage of being laird,” Declan replied as his eyes grew heavy. If I truly have my way, there will be no one to stand in your way.
“On that note, go to sleep. You need the rest.” Emma rose to her feet. He had promised her time with his child, yet her face still warred with whatever she kept inside.
“Have you decided to join me, wife?” Declan asked, patting the bed next to him again. He wanted her to join him. Though he had not lied about being weak, he liked the idea of her asleep at his side.
“Sorry. I’m going to see if I can remember where my bed is.” Emma yawned.
“Then sleep and come to see me at first light,” Declan replied as thunder rumbled. “Mayhap we can play chess before you limp to the village.”
“If you would like to lose to me again, why not,” Emma said with little humor in her voice.
There was more on her mind, and he knew it. It suited him well, for there was much he had left unspoken. He would leave her to stew and then stir the pot when the time was right. “Does my wife have a goodnight kiss for me?” Declan teased.
He smiled wide as her eyes rolled. “You really are pushing it.”
“Kiss me and then off to your bed,” Declan said softly.
To his surprise, Emma leaned over and blew a loud kiss over his whiskered cheek. “Be a good laird and go to sleep.” She turned to blow out the candles on his nightstand. “So you know, Mary’s right. The whiskers are scratchy.”
Declan laughed and followed her steps to each and every candle in the chamber. When she reached the door, he called out, “The laird is nay here this night, wife. He would never ask for a kiss and accept such childish games in lieu of what he wanted.”
Lightning lit the chamber enough for him to see amusement on her features. “That may be for the best. I never would have even pretended to marry the laird,” Emma said as she opened the door.
Soft light from the torches burning in the corridor lit her smile. How he enjoyed her banter. With a wave, he shooed her from the chamber. Settling onto the pillow so thoughtfully arranged for his comfort, he knew how very wrong she was. Their marriage contract named him as laird. Smiling as his eyes closed, he had no issue letting the game continue for a bit longer. Like the chess game he had requested for the morrow, he moved the players to suit his needs. His gambit to capture the queen was already in play.
Chapter 13
Emma peeked around the corner from the back staircase and made certain the upstairs corridor was deserted. She whispered to Mary, “We need to be quick. Go back to your chamber and change your clothes.” With the small hand tucked in hers, they ran down the corridor. “We don’t want anyone to see you . . .” Her sentence died in her throat at the masculine throat clearing behind her. Crap, I’m busted.
“Is there a reason my daughter is dressed like a lad?” Emma remained with her back to Declan. “I am waiting for you to explain, wife.”
Emma turned to face Declan. He stood behind her in his robe. “Why are you out of bed? You should be resting.”
“Because I called for my wife, and she failed to come to me,” Declan replied with a grin. “No man should have to come seeking his wife.” His gaze fell back to Mary, who stood in linen pants and a boy’s shirt, and his humor faded. “Again, explain my daughter.”
“Emma is training me, Da.” Mary’s enthusiasm killed any notion of an alternative explanation.
“So much for this being our secret,” Emma mumbled.
“Truly?” Declan laughed while his gaze locked on Emma. “You are attempting to train a wee lass?” His amusement led to coughing, and Emma knew it wasn’t enough to let her off the hook. “The child need nay training. She will be protected by warriors.”
“There is a need, and you know it,” Emma countered. “I won’t have her afraid to take two steps away from myself or William in the village, not when she could protect herself.”
Declan abruptly changed the jovial mood. “Dinna make her believe she can battle a strong man. She is but a wee lass.”
“Like I don’t know that,” Emma scoffed after she rolled her eyes. I know he hates it when I do that. “I’m not teaching her to fight, only how to get away.” The motion of Mary’s head nodding in agreement made her smile despite the confrontation.
“I can nay learn to fight yet, Da. Nay until I ken the basics, aye, Emma? The fighting will come at summer’s end,” Mary quoted the words uttered when the training had begun.
“You’re not helping me,” Emma said, glancing down at the grinning child.
“What exactly are you teaching my daughter?” Declan asked.
For the moment, he humored them, and she realized he saw a game. Wanting to wipe the ridicule off his handsome face, she challenged him. “Grab her wrist, and I’ll show you.” She blew out her frustration as Declan limply held the child, and she scolded him. “Not like that. Grab her and hold her like you mean it, like the raider did.”
Declan’s features hardened to a grimace. “I dinna like this game, wife.”
“Well, I don’t like being called wife. When we are done here, we need to talk about that.” Annoyed by his condescending smirk, Emma turned back to Mary. “Okay, Mary. What do you do?”
The little face studied the grip. “I forgot. ‘Tis number one or number two?”
Making a show of studying the way Declan held the wrist, Emma said, “The hold is on top of your wrist, so number one.”
Mary nodded and yanked her hand up while her body simultaneously stepped forward, leaving Declan’s hand holding air. “Now what do you do?”
“I run verra fast, ma’am,” Mary answered boldly.
“Well done, Mary,” Emma complimented with pride. The girl had been a quick study, and even Cortland had not been able to keep a grip on her during their practice. She caught the surprise on Declan’s face and gave Mary a quick wink.
Facing Declan again, she continued the lesson. “Grab her from the underside now.” He did, and in a flash, Mary was again free. Crouching in front of Mary, she gave the child a kiss to her cheek. “That was perfect, and I am so very proud of you.” She rose slowly and faced the man who blinked rapidly. “What do you think?”
“You have done well, Mary, and I too am proud of you.” Declan ruffled the child’s braided hair. “However, I question Emma being on the training field when she limps down the corridor.”
“Mary did all the work. The limp is better since Meggie removed my stitches last night. I hadn�
��t realized how much they pulled.” Emma ran her hand over the side of her thigh. “As for you, Mary. Go and change your clothes, and after we eat, we can go see Aalish. Your father and I need to talk.” If the man is roaming the corridors, the faux marriage can end. She knew the day had come when Declan would decide which of the girls in the village would be handed over to him for marriage, even if she hadn’t decided how that made her feel.
“Aye, Mary, be dressed as a lass before you eat in the hall. There is no need to wait for Emma as we have much to discuss. Meggie will see you fed.” Declan kissed his daughter who then ran to her chamber.
“Come, wife.” Declan placed his hand on her back and led her to his chamber.
Pushing open the door for her, she saw Cortland waiting in a chair before the fire. It was what she had been waiting for: all official matters happened with Cortland in the same room. With a quick hug for the man she called father, she turned to face Declan. “We’re all here, so let’s get to it.”
Since the marriage was, for the most part, a secret, her understanding was that the contract and all evidence that it ever existed were to be destroyed. This should be quick and simple, and hopefully Declan will reveal which girl is going to be his victim. Before the wedding, there was a conversation or two she planned on having with the young woman. She will know that Mary is mine.
“Sit, Emma. We have much to discuss.” Declan’s statement killed her assumptions of a quick visit.
Before Cortland could rise, Emma stood before him with the question unasked. She grinned when his arms opened and snuggled into his lap. While it seemed silly to her that she craved that type of physical closeness, he didn’t complain and kissed her cheek. Declan sat in the other chair.
“There is nay much time, so I will speak plainly. My uncle arrives this day.” Declan’s voice was hard, and she winced at the threat about to confront the clan.
“The day of your birth is marked on the morrow. The man moves with greater speed than expected,” Cortland said.
“I have received a message from a man placed within his walls. Keep in mind one could assume the day of my birth begins at midnight. News of my illness must have reached his ears, and Glenn sees the opportunity. He travels with a man from the crown who is to verify the legal matters and presumably hand over my lands to Glenn.” Declan focused his brilliant gaze on her. “I need your aid. I ken you were promised our marriage would end upon my recovery, but I need a wife to stand by my side.”
Emma mulled it over. They already had a carefully crafted marriage contract. Given that danger was definitely on the way, the request didn’t seem insane. “No problem. I’ve survived a week pretending to be your wife. A few more days should be easy enough.”
“Declan,” Cortland began before the laird raised his hand to ask for silence.
“Hold your thoughts for a wee bit longer, old man. Tell me, Emma, what do they speak of in the village?”
She had already told him that some of the women thought she had been trained in secret, but there was more gossip at the well, the variety she detested. Squirming slightly on Cortland’s lap, she admitted, “Most in the village have no idea you were ill. Some have decided there were other reasons you and I were not seen for many days.” That was as close as she was willing to get to the nasty rumor.
Declan leaned forward and, to her surprise, did not laugh. “They say we were lovers.”
“I think that’s what I almost said,” Emma grumbled. Leaning into Cortland’s embrace, she wondered why she was always the one they talked about. Since she had arrived, she had behaved respectably. Only Aalish knew about the night that had gotten out of control. Though Cortland knew parts of it, he never asked for full detail.
Declan pulled back his shoulders and, with his head high, shifted his gaze to Cortland. “I wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Stunned to feel Cortland stiffen, she had no idea why Declan would make such a big deal about pretense. “I already agreed to keep this sham of a marriage going.” Seriously. What’s the big deal?
“The time for games has past. I need you to be my wife in all ways.” Every hair on the back of her neck stood at attention with Declan’s pronouncement.
Cortland mumbled a curse into her hair. “While I happily claim Emma as my daughter and will do so as long as I draw breath, she is nay one I can or will command. You need to convince her. Then you will need to convince me that you are worthy of her.”
Rising from her perch on his lap, Emma stared down at Cortland. The moment of a quickie divorce had slid into something rolling out of control. “What exactly are we talking about?” She asked the question, afraid she already knew the answer.
“Simply stated daughter-of-my-heart, the laird needs a true wife. Nothing short of a real marriage will keep these lands safe. The question is whether you are willing.”
“No,” Emma blurted out. There was nothing to truly ponder. Flirting and drunk nights were one thing; a real marriage crossed all barriers even after a sleepless night wondering who Declan would marry, a night she had blamed on wanting to be with Mary only.
Declan sighed wearily. “Cortland, would you please leave? I wish to speak with Emma alone.”
Pale blue eyes fixed on her. “Again, the choice is yours. I can stay or wait outside the door.” Cortland made his offer and then turned to glare at Declan.
“You can go,” Emma said. “This won’t take long.” Cortland rose and kissed her cheek. She missed whatever it was he said to Declan, her mind too busy wondering what had happened to the morning she had planned. With little grace, she fell into the chair Cortland had vacated.
Hearing the door close, Emma turned and stared at Declan as his gaze locked on hers. “The answer is still no.”
“You have nay given me a chance to speak, wife,” Declan said softly. Reaching out to take her hand, he asked, “Is the thought so terrible?”
A calloused thumb traced her knuckles, and with the simple movement, she felt her pulse beat in her neck. Disgusted by her immediate reaction, she pulled her hand away. Despite her dancing hormones, she knew their marriage was no longer a simple matter of Mary’s safety. “I signed the contract to protect Mary. This is something completely different.”
“Aye, ‘tis something different,” Declan agreed. “I have two choices this day: marry you or one of the lasses in the village. The fate of my people rests with my being wed by nightfall.”
“This isn’t my responsibility.”
Declan stared at her flat denial. He leaned over the table and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I bear the responsibility but would have you as my wife.”
For just a moment, she was lost in the green gaze of his eyes and the gentleness of his touch, but she could also feel the ploy. “We can barely hold a conversation without arguing. I think I am simply in the right place at the right time.” While not completely true, over the last few days they had had plenty of non-argumentative conversations, but she knew she was convenient.
Declan released her face and laughed. “And what magic needed to happen for you to be in this place? You and I should have never met. I am centuries dead before you are even born. The fates have brought you to me.”
Emma shook her head at the ridiculous notion. “Save the sweet talk for the girl from the village. I know exactly what you need to make a real marriage. All you want is someone to bleed on your sheets. I may be stuck here in this time, but I am not here to be your sacrifice.”
He eyed her speculatively. “I was prepared to believe your claims, the ones you spoke in my bed last week. Tell me, wife, are you untouched?”
Emma scowled at him for daring to bring up the drunken night that haunted her dreams and more waking moments than she would ever admit. Again, she tried to remember exactly how that had had happened. The answer was brutal and embarrassing. A
day of fear and pain, a night of too much alcohol, and a man whose kisses had been perfection. She refused to even think about his hands that knew exactly how and where to touch her.
“We can erase the regret,” Declan whispered as if he could read her mind, which was filled with images of his hands and mouth on her skin.
Hoping she only gasped from shock, she stared at the man who wore a confident grin, as if he knew she replayed the events of that night. Too bad I also remember the way he treated me when he believed Merrick’s lies. I need to be with someone who trusts me.
“What you need is a means to an end. That’s not how I plan on getting married.” Emma rose and, without a glance back, walked to the door. Knowing Declan followed, she added, “Marriage is supposed to mean something, not life and death for a clan. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Her body stiffened when Declan closed in from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. A soft and gentle voice spoke against her ear. “It could mean something between us, you ken this as do I. You understand me as few do, and see both sides of me. You stand with no fear to face the laird, and I think you enjoy my company when my duties are put aside for the day.” With a soft kiss to her hair, he said, “So marry both of us, the man and the laird.”
“The fact that you think of yourself as two separate people is not helping.” She could feel his lips upturn against her hair. Reaching down, she tried to unwrap Declan’s arms. She couldn’t think with his body pressed against her. In a flash, she had a bit more understanding of how she had wound up in his bed. Her skin tingled and craved his touch even as her mind fought the innate attraction.
He chuckled as he tightened his hold on her. “I want you to remain my wife. The marriage being made valid and public is only the beginning. My uncle will nay leave and accept defeat. For this reason, I need a wife who is sharp-witted and able to see what I miss. That you are also proven in battle and able to keep Mary safe is no small matter. My wife needs to be more than willing flesh in my bed.” Declan paused long enough to rub his nose against her hair. “Though I do want you in my bed.”
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