Declan chuckled and stepped in front of her to pull her against him. “I do insist. But, so you ken, even the man is tempted by the vision you present. You are beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed with the compliment. Declan can be so adorable when he wants to be. But his comment on her wardrobe had her mind questioning. “What does it matter what I wear?”
“I gift with gowns fit for a queen, and you hint at my motivation?” His question held no humor with one eyebrow cocked.
“Yes.” Her playful nature vanished with her train of thought. “Am I playing some type of part?” It hurt to ask, and she worried that the answer would imply it was only a game, a rouse to throw his uncle off the scent of lands and wealth. A wife happened to be the integral piece of the puzzle.
“Dinna think what you are, wife. My gifts are intended to please you and make certain all see you as cherished. A wife given naught would be seen as naught. I give you all and would that those who question our marriage see that you are my world.”
She watched him talk and saw no deception but then doubted her ability to read anyone. At this point, I will believe anything he says. My endorphins are making me loopy.
“Wife, have you so quickly forgotten our night and every pledge I made to you? Only hours ago, I woke with you in our bed and asked you for more than simply a bedding. Did you nay hear that?” Declan’s hands cupped her face, and he lowered his to tempt her with gentle kisses. “You are mine, and I am yours. Nay because of the edict, but due to all we could be together. I believe we shared those vows in the bath only a short time ago.”
Emma blinked as he spoke and then felt foolish for such quick doubt. Heat rose in her cheeks at the memory of Declan’s hands on her skin in the warm water. “I’m sorry.”
Declan tugged her close until her head rested against his shoulder. Tender kisses brushed along her temple. “You have every reason to doubt me given the events of yesterday. Have I ruined what could be with what had to be done?”
“No,” her reply came immediately. They had already talked it through, and she had made the decision to move past it. “I’m concerned about what happens next.”
Declan hugged her close and rubbed his nose over her hair. “Next, I will take my wife below stairs to eat, and she will be greeted as the Lady of the clan. We will face Glenn together. He should quickly see our marriage is true even if he has no idea what can be between a man and the right woman.”
Emma squeezed her arms around his waist before she pulled away. “Give me a minute to put my hair up.” Her fingers pulled the damp strands with the intent of her normal braid. When she had only completed it to the back of the top of her head, Declan’s hands covered hers.
“Leave the rest down. Your hair is too fine to be hidden from my sight.” He handed her a tie and wrapped his body around her back as she let the rest of her hair flow. His fingers wove through the loose hair to then trail over her spine, leaving her body to deal with the enticing shivers. “My hands are greedy for you.”
Her body flushed with the comment, his heated whispers driving her crazy. Turning to face him, she asked, “Should we go down?” though she had no desire to end the quiet time together.
“Aye, wife. Let all witness my joy with you at my side.” Declan gave her one more kiss before his hand gripped hers and led her to the door. She winced involuntarily at the bolt sliding open, the simple act threatening to bring demons to light.
“Never again.” Declan replied as they left their cocoon.
They both stopped at the top of the stairs as Cortland came into view. His face broke into a smile as his pale blue eyes locked on her.
“At long last I have sight of you,” Cortland said, stepping in front of her. His gaze wandered her from head to foot. “You are lovely beyond telling in your finery. Since you dinna come seeking me last eve, I assume there is peace between you and your husband.”
Before she could answer, Declan wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and pulled her close to his chest. “After many long hours of begging her forgiveness and apologizing with great meaning, my wife and I stand together as one.” To enunciate his point, Declan placed a lingering kiss to her temple.
Feeling the blush heat her cheeks at his reference, she mumbled, “Yeah, something like that.”
A low rumbling chuckle came from Declan against her hair, and Cortland solemnly nodded. The man she called father said, “As long as your wife kens she is nay trapped here with you. Should she change her mind, we leave immediately.”
“I’m good with staying,” Emma said, holding Cortland’s inquiring gaze. “Though I have a few thoughts on my charming husband’s notion that I should play the meek wife in front of his uncle.” That conversation had happened during the bath. Emma began to wonder if she only agreed due to the warm strong hands that had wandered her body beneath the heated water.
“Declan is correct on that, Daughter. Your strength is best kept hidden to protect you and Mary from harm. Tell me, can you keep your warrior’s nature a secret?” Cortland asked.
“It goes against everything my grandparents taught me,” Emma said. She had been raised to hold her head high and not take crap from anyone. Her martial arts training only encouraged the foundation. She did her best to explain that to the two men who were too used to weak women.
“You should always hold you head high, sweet wife,” Declan said as he held her tight. “Only try nay to hurt any who push you too far.” Both men had the audacity to laugh at her expense.
“Fine, I’ll behave,” she reluctantly agreed if only to keep Mary safe. With her gaze on Cortland, she said, “I’ll have to take out my frustrations on you every morning. Hope you’re up to the challenge.”
“There will be no training while Glenn and his men are here. We now live with prying eyes everywhere.” Emma slumped against Declan as she realized Cortland was right and the risk would be too great.
“But everyone here knows I can fight,” Emma stated.
“The men have been told to keep silent, as have the lasses,” Cortland reassured her. “Even if one were to speak of it, another would deny the claims as foolhardy.”
“Merrick knows.” Emma’s reminder had Declan straighten at her back. She didn’t need to see his face to know he stared at Cortland.
Cortland mulled over the fact as he ran his hands over his cropped hair. “I think Merrick will keep it to himself for now. His feelings for you may work to our advantage, as well as his love for Mary. Merrick has been silent and seemed distraught to find you wed to Declan last eve. Be kind to him and, if needed, ask for his silence for the child’s sake.”
“My wife will nay be left alone long enough to share sweet words with my cousin,” Declan grumbled. His obvious jealousy pleased her in a way she had not expected.
“My daughter will do as I bid her in the matter,” Cortland challenged. “Save your wounded pride for another day.”
Emma worked to prevent a needless argument. “If needed, I’ll ask for his silence. If he hasn’t said anything yet, maybe he won’t.” Changing the topic, she asked, “Can I go to the village now for Mary?” It rankled her to no end to ask permission to go, but she could feel the tension rolling off the two men.
“William left to fetch her,” Cortland said with a smile for her. “Let’s us face the lion in our den and offer a welcome to the wee one.”
Cortland headed down the stairs first, and Declan spun her in his arms to face him. Soft eyes gazed down upon her. “Are you ready?”
“To be meek and humble?” she asked with her eyelashes batting for effect.
His warm laughter answered first. “Aye, wife. Come into our hall and share a meal at my side, the first of many with you at my right. You should be hungry.”
She blushed at the grin on his handsome face that reminded her of all the re
asons her stomach now rumbled. “Let’s go find our girl.”
His eyes widened at the comment and without warning, his lips descended upon hers with the soft exploration she loved, the ones that lit her belly with a want for so much more. Declan pulled back and winked at her. “Aye. Our daughter awaits. Never had I dreamed to speak such words.” His awe shone in his reply.
A warm hand gripped hers and led her down the stairs and into the crowded hall. Normally men wandered in and out for the midday meal, never had she seen all the warriors gathered at one time for the meal. To add to the chaos, the Draig men were almost equaled in number by Glenn’s men, pushing the hall to full capacity.
“Why is no one wearing a sword?” Emma whispered, walking to the head table. Conversation had quieted when they entered, and she forced herself to ignore the sensation of eyes upon them.
“Your beautiful eyes see all. Your da decided we would all be safer if weapons were forbidden in the hall, as tempers may be short. Though I assume most hide a dagger in their boot or on their person. Never assume you face an unarmed man.” Declan turned to stare at her. “Can you face an armed man with no weapon?”
Emma laughed. “I’ve been trained to disarm an enemy, especially one with a knife.” Such lessons came early and often at the dojo, though she never expected to use it.
“I said dagger, wife. I thought we made the distinction clear last eve,” Declan teased her. Her mind flooded with the slow lovemaking that followed that conversation, and she faltered in her step.
“Does your ankle pain you?” he asked with concern.
“No, I’m fine,” she mumbled. “These slipper-things take a bit of getting used to.”
Declan glanced down at her feet and the blue peeking from under her skirts. His head shook. “Even in my attempts to spoil you, there is a fault.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, his voice sounded hurt. When she glanced at him, she met the hard eyes of the laird, and her twinge of guilt died. “I hate when you look at me like that,” she whispered.
Declan sat and pulled her down by his side on the bench. “We are in the hall. When we are again alone, I will apologize if you wish.”
Emma laughed at the heated look in his eyes and the way he leaned close to her. “Do you really think that’s enough to excuse the laird’s behavior?”
He pretended to mull over her question before his gaze hardened upon her. “You married the laird, so now you must deal with him.” When his eyebrow shot up in challenge, she laughed. At least the laird has a sense of humor.
“Emma,” a small voice called. Mary ran to the table, dragging William behind.
“Hello, sunshine!” Emma beamed as Mary jumped onto her lap. “I missed you so much.” She smiled at William, who nodded formally and walked away. Frowning into Mary’s hair, she knew it was going to be a long day if everyone was going to be distant.
“I missed you, too,” Mary said, leaping from her and settling into Declan’s waiting arms.
As the serving women began to bring trays of steaming platters to the tables, Cortland sat on her other side. When Glenn sat directly across from her, she had never been so grateful to be between Declan and her father. Glenn looked much like Merrick, the same light brown hair, though his was peppered with gray; similar brown eyes, but his held only anger and hatred; and the same warrior’s build. Glenn was no weakling who would depend on the strength of another.
Merrick sat on one side of his father and offered her a smile—a shy tentative one. “Lady Emma,” he mocked.
It was Mary who answered, “Merrick, you have come back.” The child bounced on Declan’s lap, with only love in her eyes.
“As if I could stay away from my bonny wee cousin,” Merrick answered the child. “As always, you are a vision of loveliness.”
Mary beamed with his praise. “William brought me a clean gown for the day, and Aalish braided my hair. ‘Tis nay the French one you prefer.” The child pouted as she spoke.
“Your hair is lovely in any fashion,” Merrick told her, which only made Mary grin. His love for her seemed so honest that Emma had a hard time holding a grudge for his running to his father. She held out hope that there was more good than greed in the man who did his father’s bidding.
“So, ‘tis wee Mary,” Glenn said, staring at the child.
Goosebumps rose on Emma’s skin as he glared across the table. At her side, she felt Declan and Cortland straighten with his perusal. It took every ounce of control she had to not snarl as Ciara squeezed herself between Merrick and Glenn. The woman’s gaze also fixed on Mary with no kindness.
“Such a sweet lass,” Ciara purred with no sincerity. “Tell me, Emma, is what I have heard true? Did you really place the child as heir to Draig lands?” Scorn and disbelief dripped from the question.
So now we’re on a first name basis? Emma bristled at the idea that the woman who instigated her being naked in front of the gathered men the previous night, and who mocked her body, would speak to her so casually. Pasting what she hoped was a polite smile on her face, not the grimace she felt in her heart, Emma answered her. “Since Mary is the firstborn, it was hardly a grand gesture. I merely claimed her as my own publicly.”
Merrick’s mouth fell open in a wide gape. “You did what?”
“My wife claimed my daughter as her child also.” Declan’s voice sang with triumph, and Emma knew how much her love for Mary meant to him.
Glenn shook his head and laughed. “Cortland, I expected far more from you.”
Cortland leaned over to place a kiss to her head. “My daughter makes me proud in all she does. Her love for Mary is no secret. I would have counseled her to do the same had she asked.”
Angus sat at the table, and Emma shivered at his cold beady eyes. His dark, lanky hair shone with a lack of bathing, and she wondered how it didn’t bother him. He joined the conversation. “Such deeds are rare in the world. Few women would put their children behind that of another woman.”
Emma scowled as Mary frowned, her young ears absorbing far too much of a conversation that should have never taken place in front of her. She patted the bench beside her. “Come and sit so your da can eat, sunshine.” She filled a plate with meat, greens, and early summer berries.
“Aye, Emma,” Mary said, snuggling against her side.
“So, Laird Declan finally joins us,” a pretty brunette said as she sat between Angus and Glenn. Emma caught the frown on Ciara’s face when Glenn turned to leer at the young woman. Much like Ciara, the woman was pretty and her ridiculously large bosom was barely contained in her straining bodice.
“Enid,” Declan mumbled as the woman smiled brightly at him.
Despite the little voice in her head that said to leave it alone, she cocked her head to stare at Declan. His gaze met hers only briefly, before it fell to his plate and his shoulders gave her a guilty shrug. At least she didn’t have to ask out loud how well he knew the woman, but that was a small consolation. Her eyes wandered the hall, curious as to how many more women who were there with Glenn had known her husband in a biblical sense. How am I supposed to hold his attention? Is everyone he ever slept with so damned pretty?
“There is a past, and there is our future,” Declan whispered in her ear. “If you dinna wipe that frown from your face, I will happily carry you above stairs to remind you how I want only you.”
Emma blinked at Declan and shook her head in disbelief. Though the laird’s gaze fixed upon her, she saw the passion in his eyes. Looking away, she played with her food, her appetite nowhere to be seen.
“Tell me, Uncle. How fare your two young sons?” Declan asked, leaning forward, a picture of familial interest.
She saw Enid and Ciara flinch at the mention of boys and wondered why. That’s strange. Maybe they just don’t like children. Then she wondered if the boys, the heirs, were in
some capacity a limitation to them. Merrick emptied his cup at the question, and Emma saw his pain. The title of heir had been stripped from Merrick when the ten-year-old half-brother had been born. Who would you be now if your stepmother had loved you?
Glenn’s answer bordered on disappointment. “He is wee for his age, nay big and strong like Merrick and you were.”
Emma listened to the rest with only mild concern. Declan was a mastermind in so many ways. With one question, he had irritated the two women, put a barrier up between Glenn and Merrick, and made Glenn admit a weakness.
The rest of the meal contained conversation not directed at her and mainly between the men. She was thankful that Ciara and Enid didn’t try to engage her in conversation. There was only so much she could politely tolerate. Talks of crops, rain, and the news of other clans filled the table. If she weren’t aware of the conflict between Glenn and Declan, it might have seemed pleasant. She shook that thought aside. Every word her husband uttered was met with a contemptuous glare from the man he called uncle. What hurt the most was Mary’s silence.
Finally, the meal ended. She turned to Declan. “It might be a good idea if I take Mary outside for some air.” Emma hoped that had been clear enough for Declan—the child needed to be away from of the hostile environment.
“Later, wife,” Declan said, after he ran a loving hand over his daughter’s hair. “First we have matters to tend.”
She caught the gleam in his eyes and cringed. “You promised no more surprises.”
“‘Tis one you will like.” Declan rose to his feet and asked the crowded hall for silence. When the conversations ended, he pulled Emma to her feet and away from the table to stand before the great fireplace. Only then did she notice the stained-sheet that hung over the mantle. Please tell me I’m imagining that.
Her gaze stared at the small bloodstain, and she closed her eyes in utter humiliation. “I don’t like it so far,” she growled softly.
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