The snickers and leers faded to background noise, and she turned to face Cortland, giving her audience a clear view of her backside. His small nod of approval gave the courage to lift her hair. At his side, William grinned like an idiot and winked at her. She shook her head at his enjoyment and offered him a scowl.
Before she could turn to again face the hostility, Declan placed the silk over her shoulders and helped her arms find their place. It wasn’t enough of a barrier in her mind because the silk only hid the skin, not her body.
Declan placed a kiss to her temple as she tied the robe. He whispered in her ear, “You have done well, wife. Forgive me.” Facing the men who gathered, he commanded, “Leave now. All has been verified.”
“Nephew, we still need the contract.” Glenn’s voice dripped with disgust as he asked, “Is there a reason you have marked the lass as a warrior? One would think your men would be offended to have such an honor trivialized.”
Declan’s hand lowered to cover the tattoo on her low back, the one he hadn’t seen until that moment. “Like a woman once loved by my ancestor, my wife came to me bearing my mark.” Turning his head enough to see Cortland, he ordered, “Take them to my study.”
Moving to stand toe to toe with Glenn, Cortland demanded, “Out now and go to the hall. In case you are confused, William will show you the way.” Speaking to William, he added, “You follow at the rear and have my blessing to kill any who linger outside this door.” William nodded and drew his weapon, pointing the way for all to go.
Cortland stepped in front of Emma and held out his arms wide, looking as if he wondered if she would accept him. She leapt into his hold and clung to him, breathing in his clean scent that smelled like home and security to her. Never in her life had she needed his acceptance and love like she did after the horrendous events of the past few minutes.
“While no lass should have to endure what you did, such foul deeds have been kenned to be common on other lands. I say such to ease your mind. As always, you have made me proud. None will question the marriage legally, though I question leaving you in it. If you wish to leave these lands, say the word, and we ride.” Cortland kissed her hair. “Once Glenn has been handled, I will speak with Declan. Again, I mean it. If you no longer wish to be here, we leave.”
“Meggie, aid my daughter please,” Cortland requested as he turned to leave the chamber.
Emma allowed Meggie to wrap her into her protective hold. She nodded at the offer of a bath even if she doubted warm water and soap would wash the horror of the day away.
Declan, dressed as he was for the wedding, approached her, and she turned away from him. “I need to set matters to right in the hall. As soon as I am able, I shall return to you.” Without facing him, she nodded.
Glenn bellowed from the hallway. “Nephew, I am nay a patient man.”
Declan’s lips brushed against her temple, and her body stilled at the contact. Needing only to be left alone, she shied away from his touch. She had no remorse for his hurt sigh. Really? You’re going to be upset? She heard the rip of linen and caught the sight of the stained sheet crumpled in Declan’s hands.
He turned away from her and walked to the door. “When you are on my lands, you will wait for me,” the laird challenged.
~ ~ ~
Standing outside the door to his chamber, Declan paused. Never before had entering his private domain given him such a feeling of trepidation. He had no idea what awaited him within, or if Emma still remained.
Will she be furious or weeping? Is there an apology great enough to erase the events of the day? Where should I even begin? What words could ever hope to describe how powerful our joining had been?
While he held no doubt that she was the perfect wife for him in all ways, his body now completely agreed. Emma had accepted his body as she did everything else, completely and honestly. Never had he known such an experience. In the pit of his stomach, he carried the dread that he may never know such a moment again. Declan could only suck in a ragged breath as the door to his chamber opened.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Meggie condemned him as she quickly closed the door behind her.
Hers was not the forgiveness he sought and needed. “Nay now, Meggie. What was done will nay be justified to you. Where is my wife?”
Placing her hands on her hips, Meggie glared up at him. “Emma is inside. Since you abandoned her, I saw to her needs. She has bathed and refuses to eat the meal left for her.”
“How is she?” Declan asked quietly.
With a voice too loud for the corridor, Meggie answered, “How is she, you ask? I will tell you how she is. Emma is quiet, far too quiet. In the weeks I have known her, she has been many things, quiet nay one of them.”
Surprising the woman, Declan pulled her in for a hug. “My thanks for caring for my wife.” He placed a kiss to the top of her head. “You may seek your bed. I will care for her now.” He released the housekeeper, and his hand froze on the latch at her parting comment.
“She deserved far better, Declan.”
Cortland had said the same only minutes before, though with much greater anger. Declan sighed. “I ken it, Meggie.”
Closing the door behind him, the bolt slid easily into place. His gaze wandered the chamber before he spotted dark hair peeking from the top of the chair before the fire. No sign of the day’s chaos remained; even the bed had been remade.
Summoning his courage, he stood before the chair to find Emma curled up with her head resting against the chair’s back. On her knee sat the wreath of flowers that had adorned her hair, though the white and yellow flowers were wilted. Her fingers tied and untied a scrap of rawhide to the wreath in an endless task. It took several heartbeats for him to realize she used his hair tie for her consuming chore.
Her eyes focused on her task, and Declan wondered how any young lass could appear so old. Daring contact, he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek but could not find anything to say. Where do I even begin?
“Hello, Laird,” Emma’s soft voice broke the uneasy silence.
With his fingers clinging to the ends of her hair, he said, “The laird is nay here. He is too ashamed to face you, wife.”
Her fingers stilled from her task, and her pale blue eyes fixed on his. “Why? Everything went exactly as he planned. The laird should be quite pleased with himself.”
Surprised by her clarity of thought and shamed by its truth, Declan hung his head. “Aye, everything went as planned, and for the moment, the threat is stalled.” A heavy sigh left his lips. “The laird wonders if the cost was too great.”
Her gaze left his and focused on his fingers toying with the ends of her hair. “There was probably no other obvious option. Everyone seems to enjoy thinking the worst of me. My word mattered little. Even you doubted me.”
Declan’s eyes closed to hide from her because she was correct. He had offered to provide blood for the sheet, not sure if he should or could trust her. He tried to explain. “I have little experience with trusting women. And I meant what I said, it truly did nay matter to me if you were innocent.” Though he silently thanked her for being so or the marriage would have been contested. He whispered, “I am awed that you are mine alone. Such a gift will always be treasured in my heart.”
Emma had no reply and went back to tying and untying the rawhide around the wilted wreath. He hadn’t expected much and had only gratitude that she even listened to him.
“You should have told me what you planned,” Emma said when her gaze again found his.
Her voice held no righteous anger, only a dispassionate statement. Such distance flowed between them, and it was more than he could bear. Taking advantage of her bent knees, Declan leaned down and scooped Emma in his arms, settling onto the chair with her tucked on his lap.
For once she did not argue. While she d
idn’t settle completely within his hold, she did not struggle. Her head resting against his shoulder was more than he had dreamed of receiving from her and filled him with hope. Inhaling the sweetness of her hair, he said, “If I had told you what was to come, that we would be interrupted, our bedding would have held no pleasure, only fear.”
“Maybe,” she said softly, gripping the wreath.
“Trust me in this.” Feeling her eyebrows lift in challenge against his neck, he said, “When it mattered most, only you and I were in our bed. Despite whatever you may think, that was what I wanted most.” His hand smoothed down the back of her robe, not the beautiful silk one, but the old ragged one. She clearly wore something beneath, a shift, he assumed. “You are all I wanted. Can you forgive me?” His heart hammered as he waited for the answer.
Her head lifted, and her gaze searched his. Emma touched the square of his jaw, and her thumb traced his lower lip, spreading warmth through him. It was a tender touch he knew he did not deserve. “Which one of you am I supposed to forgive? The laird for doing what was necessary to secure his claim to his lands or the man for allowing me to be humiliated?”
“Both of us and for the verra reasons you state.” Studying Emma as she thought through his request, he wished he saw anger or disgust, anything but the sadness that tugged her full lips into a frown. He hoped to never see it again in his life. Daring a touch, he lifted her chin and placed a light kiss to unresponsive lips. “Why are you sad? I expected outrage and anger, nay this.”
“Before you came in, I was sitting here thinking about how much I missed my home. For the first time since I arrived here, I wanted to go back, to go home. I wanted my own clothes, a hot shower, a burrito with Christmas sauce—you know, red and green sauce—and my bed. For a while, it hurt with how much I wanted to go home. Then I realized there is no one at home. For over a week I was so alone there, and I never want to feel that way again. Here I’m not alone.”
Her admission stole his breath. Despite the horror he had inflicted upon her, she wished to remain. Unable to allow her any distance, he wrapped her tight in his arms and heard the wreath tumble to the floor. Light laughter tickled his neck.
Emma continued. “Then to top it all off, today I married a man I barely know. I exposed myself to over a dozen people to save a clan and a child I love, which I still don’t understand. When did my body become a salvation? Did I mention that the man I married thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to think of himself as two people? This concerns me.” He felt her smile against his neck.
Pulling her up to place another kiss to her lips, he agreed. “It has also concerned me, wife. As for how well we ken the other, I see that verra differently. You and I have sat before the fire talking with such honesty and openness. While I recovered from illness, we spent many days together sharing and learning of the other. We already agree on how children are to be raised. This night you proved we are both willing to put the needs of the clan before our own.” Smiling into her eyes, he said, “Plus, there is a strong passion between us. I can only see a fine future, one where we are together and never alone.”
Her brow crinkled with her question. “Is that enough for you? We agree on a few basic concepts and have passion?”
Declan kissed her again, and his blood heated as her soft lips lingered on his. “‘Tis a fine thing you agree with me on the passion.” He had forgotten his bold, outspoken warrior wife was still a young woman. His heart skipped a beat, and he relished his thoughts. Emma may wish for more from me. Does she want my heart? Am I able to give it? I only ken that I need her in more ways than I can count.
“What we share is more than I ever hoped to have, you ken this. I have no name for what we can build together for I see no limit to what we can share.” Taking her face in his hands, he vowed, “I will be a fine husband to you, I swear it.”
“I understand.” Emma’s gaze slid from his.
He could hear only disappointment in her voice. “You wish for words I have no experience forming. Sweet words with great meaning are new for me. However, the man could nay be happier that you sit tucked within his arms.”
“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person. It’s creepy,” Emma said with a light laugh. “I don’t want you to lie to me about what you may or may not feel. How about you be honest with me about what will happen from now on? No more surprises.”
“Aye, wife,” Declan quickly agreed. It shocked him that she sat within his embrace only asking for honesty in their shared lives, the post-bedding drama seemingly left in the past.
“So, then you and I will see what happens next. What does the laird think of all this?” Emma asked with a quirky grin.
Cortland is correct. Emma should not have wed me. She should be with a simple man who can focus on filling her life with joy. Not a man who needs to put everything and everyone else first. He answered her question. “The laird is grateful for the momentary reprieve from his uncle. Our contract has been begrudgingly deemed legal by Angus and, therefore, the crown. The laird kens ‘tis nay the end of the threat, but the beginning. There is now fear Glenn will see you as an obstacle. The laird wants you safe, as you are his treasured wife.”
Her eyes lit at his comment, and he had meant it. “The laird is verra pleased you are his. He admires your courage and strength. He is awed by your love for Mary and what you did for her. Pride filled him that you did nay hesitate to prove the bedding valid. But ken he would have none look upon you. You are for his eyes alone.”
Emma shook her head at the contradictions. “Does the laird know about me and the man?”
Even in that, she surprised him. He placed a hard kiss to her lips. “Even this bothers him. The man is free to offer you his heart and to share hopes and dreams. The laird is bound by duty to the clan. He wonders if it will be enough for you. Can you separate what the man wants versus what the laird must do?”
“Only if both are honest with me,” Emma said as her head shook. “This is all very confusing.”
Relieved to see a smile in her eyes, Declan stroked the skin of her cheek. “Then I will make it easy. Beyond the door to our chamber expect the laird. Ken that he will treat you as his cherished wife because ‘tis what you are. He needs you to pay attention to all that you see and hear. The laird trusts only you and Cortland. You must only speak freely when we are alone.”
Taking her nod as agreement, he continued, “Within our chamber, the simple man is free from burden. He is the one who will seek to sit with you before the fire and talk of the day and the morrow to come. The simple man will be the only one to share your bed.”
Taking advantage of his hand on her cheek, Declan pulled Emma close for a kiss, the type she favored—soft brushes that left her wanting more. Losing himself in her sweetness, Declan’s stomach knotted as she pulled away.
“I need to ask you a question.”
He tilted her head and scattered kisses to her cheek and jaw. “Aye.” She could ask anything now that she had accepted him, all of him.
“Who was the woman?”
His lips froze against her jaw as he wondered how many times Emma would ask him the same question. Never once had he concerned himself with the future repercussions of his actions. As all she had asked for was honesty, he gave it. “Her name is Ciara. She once again warms my uncle’s bed. His wife is nay valued beyond the lands she brought to their marriage and the two sons she delivered.”
He knew he had not tempered his words enough when her eyes widened at the comment. Emma could argue she meant no more than a way to secure his lands. He quickly added, “I am fortunate to have the wife I wanted to aid in securing my lands.” While not poetic, her eyes softened a touch.
“Ciara warmed your bed too. And from what I’ve been told, she looks exactly like what you prefer in a woman,” Emma stated, her voice once again betraying her hurt.
Cupping her cheek, he said, “It was many, many moons ago. She kenned much about my uncle’s plots. He tends to switch women frequently, leaving behind an opportunity to gain insights into his actions. I simply took advantage when an offer was made.” Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he added, “She has nothing I want, wife.”
He could see her mind whirling as she thought. “So, you used her for information, and . . . well . . . and for more.” Emma’s statement was harsh and full of the bitter truth of his past. Her body stiffened just before she put together pieces he never meant for her to understand. “The night before the village was attacked, the night before we were drunk in here, you met a messenger . . .”
Declan had no desire to hear the foul words from her lips, so he interrupted. “What you believe is true.” The admission was honest, but he wondered if he should have lied given the way her thoughts raced behind her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me that meant nothing?” Emma’s tone carried accusation.
“Aye, wife. It was only the means to an end.” Too late he realized his mistake. He held tight as she tried to get off his lap. “Please dinna move. There is no comparison to what I have done in my past to what has been between us.”
Emma pushed back and glared at him, the fire back in her eyes. “Wasn’t that also just a means to an end? I mean, you needed a wife to bed to save your lands. One who wouldn’t wilt and fall apart at the intrusion of your uncle.”
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