My wife loves me! The intensity of the revelation stole his breath. “Why did you nay speak of it to me?”
Emma pulled him closer to press her lips to his, and his heart swelled at the love contained. She brushed his hair behind an ear with a gentle hand while he was mesmerized by the emotion in her gaze, belatedly realizing her love had long been gifted. “You weren’t ready to hear it.”
“When would a man nay be ready to hear such fine words from his wife?” Declan challenged.
Even in the shadows he saw her grin. Her head tilted to the side as if she debated what information to share. “The day I married you.” Emma wrinkled her nose and chuckled. “Actually, later that night, after we made peace with the afternoon’s interruptions and, well, after you bedded me for the sake of being with me, not for putting on a show.” It still amazed him that she could speak of the torture he had put her through with such a casual and forgiving air.
“We were finally falling asleep, and you pulled me to you and wrapped me up in your arms. You whispered such sweet things to me, promises for our life together and all that would entail. I knew I loved you then, drifting off to sleep in your arms, though I have my suspicions the love was there when I agreed to marry you. And then when you gave me your knife in the hall, I let myself believe you would love me. Maybe not that day, but eventually.”
How did I miss her heart being given? But he heard her tease and refused to leave it alone. “‘Tis no knife, but a dagger of legend, wife.”
Emma laughed. “Dagger, knife, whatever.” If he had been able to see all her features, Declan knew she would have rolled her eyes with the jest.
He inhaled deeply and gave her the apology she deserved. “When I gave the dagger of my ancestors into your keeping, there was love. It should have been a private moment, shared only between us. Forgive me that I made a spectacle of the proof of my devotion to you.” He had no way to describe the moment when he woke the day after their marriage to her sleeping form tucked against him and the feelings that had burst free in his heart.
Her body softened under his, and though she made no reply, he heard her sigh. Not content with her body under his, he needed to see her, to feel more of her tempting skin in his greedy hands. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her with him until her body draped over his.
His wife loved him. Then he thought of the day of their marriage and silently surmised if she hadn’t, he would be alone. “I should have spoken sooner instead of letting my heart be ruled with fear. At the end of the day, we are here in our bed kenning there is love between us. ‘Tis a fine thing.”
“Yes, it is.” Emma teased him with a wink. But her wide grin told him more than her words ever would. He had made her happy with his stumbling declaration. I would do anything to have her smile so brightly for me.
Declan pulled her close and kissed her deeply as her long strong legs straddled his hips. He broke the kiss to whisper, “I love you, wife. It can nay be said enough.”
Emma arched into his hands as he slid her to cover his arousal. For the first time in his life he felt the extreme difference between lust and the desire for a deeper connection.
“So, what’s your plan? Proving how much you love me by keeping me up all night?” He could hear her gasping breaths as he held her hips exactly where he wanted them, her body heated and filled with the same desire that burned within his heart and soul.
Teasing her lips with gentle nips and brushes, Declan gave her his honesty. “Aye. Such sweet declarations need to be met with proof. I shall spend the night loving you.” Holding her face close to his, he said, “So you ken what the night will hold, there will be no surprises. It shall be a verra long night filled with such great meaning.”
After a stolen kiss to his lips, Emma said what he never thought to hear. “And I love you.”
Declan wanted to add more. He so enjoyed the word play that accompanied their nights but found himself unable to think as Emma slipped from his grasp to kiss a path down his chest and farther down his stomach. His mind reeled at the combination of such fire and love.
Chapter 20
Perched on the side of Mary’s bed, Declan watched his daughter sleep. It had been far too many days since he had spent any time with her. Emma wisely insisted Mary should be spared the lewd behavior in his hall. His daughter spent her days in the village and then tucked from sight within the keep.
He bent to place a kiss to his child’s forehead and rose to leave. Mary’s sleepy voice stopped his movements.
“What are you doing here, Da?” Mary rubbed her eyes.
Declan smiled at her as he returned to his prior perch. “I came to see that you slept with peace and to offer you a kiss.”
Her yawn answered first. “My days are verra busy, Da. I am tired when Emma puts me to bed.”
In took effort to hold in the chuckle at the extremely adult response. “What fills your days, Mary?” Declan already knew the answer to the question from his late nights with his wife, but to hear Mary tell it would fill him with joy.
“Aalish and Emma make us do chores for the older women. Brina and I are learning to do all a fine lass should ken to do. Only after are we allowed to play.” Even with the chaos in their home, Emma still held to his wishes.
Brushing the hair from her forehead, Declan commended what she was being taught. “Work always needs to come before sport. ‘Tis a fine lesson to learn.”
Mary let out a tired sigh. “‘Tis what they say, too.”
Declan was captivated by Mary’s retelling of the tasks accomplished and made certain to praise each one. He forced his face to remain neutral as Mary spoke of evening meals in the kitchen, though she never asked why she no longer ate at her father’s side. Anger burned within as Mary spoke of Ciara and Enid and the foul nasty comments they made to Emma. Rage consumed him as Mary told him of the ways Emma had kept them out of sight, all a game to his child. My child should not have to live like this in my own home. His temper flared to a cold fire as he heard Emma’s voice from his child who spoke of how fine a game it was to use back corridors and the servants’ stairs.
Suddenly aware that Mary had ceased speaking, he asked, “How does your day end, Mary?”
“Emma makes me bathe and puts me to bed. She tells me proper tales, Da, the ones that end with happily ever after. Emma says these are the best ones.”
“I remember these tales from when I was ill, and they are the best,” Declan reassured his daughter.
Her eyelids drooped, and Declan watched her snuggle against the pillow with her rag doll in hand. “Sleep, Mary.” He sat quietly until the child faded back into an easy slumber.
He could spend the whole of the night watching Mary sleep, as he had done when she was an infant in Aalish’s care. However, there were details he needed Emma to share with him; far too many had been kept hidden. Smiling as he reached the chamber door, he knew his wife would most likely argue about it. Declan looked forward to a long night of making peace with his soon-to-be-angry wife.
He spoke to the guard outside Mary’s door. “Tell me. Do any wander too close to the door?”
“Nay, Laird. Though I believe my presence is noted on a regular basis by those seeking their beds.” His gaze flitted to the chamber door across the corridor, the one occupied by Glenn.
It was as he thought—they waited for him to drop his guard. Never, Declan silently vowed. He spoke again to the man, “You leave the corridor for no reason. Do you hear me?”
Nodding briefly, he answered, “Have no fear, I ken my duty. The man who relieves me also kens. We are proud to be chosen to protect Lady Mary.”
“My thanks for your fine service,” Declan said as he walked to his chamber. Only briefly did he stop to stare at the door across the corridor. He asked the guard, “Does Ciara share his chamber?”
“Some n
ights she does. ‘Tis one of those. We all ken Glenn brought two women and seems to have no favorite.” Declan heard the disgust in his guard’s voice that rivaled his own.
“My thanks for the news.” Declan stood outside his door for several moments. That was information he could use. He knew Ciara was a prideful woman and one quick to anger. For a single heartbeat, the laird had a thought on how to exploit it, but the man inside him quickly killed the notion. Both shuddered at the wayward thought. The price for insight into his uncle’s plans was too great. There had to be another way to use Ciara’s anger; he simply needed to find it.
The door to his own chamber had not fully closed, yet Declan’s heart raced with panic. Light filled the chamber as if the sun burned within. Lit candles and a burning fire erased the night. The sight of his wife dressed in her training trews and shirt with her wooden weapons in hand iced his blood. Emma rapidly paced the length of the chamber while her arms moved the wood in tight circles; the air hissed as the weapons cut through it.
Cortland’s gaze never left Emma as he spoke. “We need to speak.”
“Tell me,” Declan growled, sliding the bolt into place.
His command was ignored as Cortland strode next to Emma. “Enough. You need to cease. Still your body so we can talk.”
“Tell me now,” Declan roared. What in the hell is going on?
“I’m not talking to the laird,” Emma mumbled, storming past him with her sticks assaulting the air.
Cortland simultaneously blocked Emma’s path and grabbed at her weapons. Her body fought his hold and struggled for freedom. Undeterred, he yanked the sticks from her hands and let them drop to the floor. Before the thud ended, his arms were wrapped tight around Emma. Declan could hear none of what Cortland whispered to Emma and only saw her rigid body.
A thousand horrid possibilities danced in his mind. Has she been attacked, injured, or threatened? I must have been a fool to allow her to visit the village with only William at her side. Mayhap one of Glenn’s men had . . . had what? What would leave her like this?
When Cortland pulled back enough for Declan to see her profile, his lungs ceased to function. Fear filled her pinched features, something he had never seen on his wife.
His feet moved of their own accord, and he pushed Cortland away from Emma and pulled her close. Soft, shallow breath touched his neck, and she leaned in but no arms circled his waist. Again, his mind raced. Did Ciara or Enid tell her something of my past that has pushed her away from me?
Declan shook away the thought. Emma would never stand still long enough to listen to such, he prayed. His hands roamed her body, searching for injury or some explanation for his wife to be dressed for battle.
Using extreme restraint, Declan said, “I find no wound on you and ken Mary is safe in her bed. What has happened?” His soft tone surprised him; he wanted to scream for answers.
“Come and sit,” Cortland said, taking a chair near the fire. “Emma will join us when she is ready.”
He refused to leave her alone to once again pace their chamber. Declan stared into pale blue eyes that looked at him but did not see him. Needing answers warred with needing Emma; he lifted her stiff body into his arms and stalked to the waiting chair. When he sat, her body curled into his, and he held on tight.
“Pour your daughter a cup,” Declan suggested.
“No!” Emma cried, burying her face in his neck.
With his heart pounding in his chest, Declan felt her hands grip his shirt and her body tremble in his hold. Cortland’s hand ran over his cropped hair, a gesture that confirmed the news would be foul.
“Tell Declan what you told me,” Cortland encouraged softly.
Emma inhaled several shaky breaths before she spoke. “I came in here after putting Mary to bed. She had ripped her gown in the village today, and I was going to mend it.” Declan felt her head shift to stare at the sewing basket before the fire. “There was someone in the chamber when I got here.”
“Tell me the man’s name, and I will see him dead,” Declan commanded. His hand craved his sword, and in his mind, he pictured a head severed from a body. Whoever caused Emma such fear will die a thousand deaths.
Her head shook against him. “Do you remember when I told you about the serving girl I saved from Glenn’s man, Keir?”
“Aye, wife.”
“It was her, Kallyn. She said she was taking away the pitcher of wine and replacing it with another. She claims the wine had been filled with herbs, ones that would make me lose a baby, if I was, well, if I was with child.”
Declan swallowed hard at a dream he had yet to imagine becoming real. “Are you with child?”
“How am I supposed to know that?” Emma snapped. “It’s not like I can run to the drugstore and pee on a stick, now can I?” Despite the anger in her response, she blew out a breath that hinted at humor. “Neither one of you understood that. I don’t know. How am I supposed to know so soon?” Her fingers moved and counted, presumably the days and weeks since they wed. “It’s too soon to know. Ask me next week.”
Placing a kiss to her hair, Declan replied, “‘Tis a question I will ask, wife.” Quiet consumed the chamber as he marveled at the thought of a bairn. His hands slid down her back to her hips, and the feel of her leather trews snapped him back. Someone had tried to prevent an heir and almost succeeded. “Did you drink?” he asked, afraid of the answer.
“No,” she said quietly. Relief as he had never known slid down his spine.
“Why would the lass risk so much to tell you of the herbs?”
“That’s exactly what I asked her. Kallyn said she owed me because of that day in the corridor. She added that if the normal amount had been used, she would have kept quiet. The pitcher apparently contained enough to kill me, and even half a cup would have been too much. I would have bled to death.” Emma shuddered in his arms at the pronouncement.
Staring at the clay pitcher on the table, his gaze narrowed on the object that could end his world. “‘Tis the poisoned wine?”
Cortland replied, “Nay. I threw that one down the garderobe. It can harm no one now. There was no taste or smell. We would have never assumed anything amiss. The one on the table is fine. I drew it myself after I opened a new barrel with my own hands. My daughter would have simply been another lass who died trying to give her husband a child.”
“The girl said it wouldn’t have harmed you. So at least we know they aren’t trying to kill you,” Emma mumbled into his shirt.
“Nay, just my beloved wife,” Declan growled. Leaning his cheek against Emma’s head, his arms tightened around her body that still shook. He turned to Cortland. “Take her away on the morrow. This ends.”
His wife shot up like an arrow released from a bow to sit straight in his lap. “I’m not leaving you. We are stronger together.”
“You will soon be weak if you dinna eat or drink,” Declan challenged.
“The men who watch Emma have increased in number,” Cortland added. “William and I have both noted this. There will be no stealthy escape.” He sat quietly and then added, “We can now assume those loose arrows have been no accident.”
“What are you talking about?” Emma’s eyes abruptly changed from fear to outrage.
“Your husband has come close to taking several arrows in the back while hunting,” Cortland explained.
Emma shifted on his lap to glare at him. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“We had no proof of an attack. They were Draig arrows. Even your father doubted it was an attack.” The word father no longer seemed a rouse to Declan. In all the ways that mattered, Cortland had become Emma’s father. He added, as he held her angry gaze, “You have had too much worry.”
Emma pushed out of his hold and stood before the chair with fire blazing from her eyes. “I can’t believe this.
I tell you everything, and you don’t do the same. What’s the point of us talking every night if you don’t tell me what I need to know?”
He preferred her anger to fear. “I only thought to spare you from one matter, a matter nay confirmed. I swear it, wife.” It was no surprise when Emma sneered at him and left him to once again pace the chamber. He asked Cortland, “What did you do with the serving lass?”
“I entered here just after she told Emma about the wine. She was paid handsomely for her troubles. Given the way your uncle hates to lose, I believe she will hold her tongue,” Cortland answered. “After the lass was sent away, apparently Emma felt the need for clothing to wage battle. I went to fetch untainted wine, and upon my return, she was dressed with weapons in hand.”
“The need for honest battle is one I understand,” Declan said, more to himself. The thoughts that raced in his mind left his lips. “If Glenn believes the wine failed to do its work, the risk to Emma is too great.”
“We could let him think he succeeded,” Cortland said as his head nodded, seemingly pleased with the idea.
Catching the gleam in the older man’s eye, Declan saw the wisdom. The plan came into focus, and he shared his thoughts. They agreed to call the midwife in the morning to visit Emma. She would declare Emma to have lost an early bairn, as such things were known to happen. They hoped she could be persuaded to whisper her doubts that Emma could even carry a child.
“I will bring blood in the early light of dawn to mar the bedding,” Cortland added. “Our only weakness is in Emma being able to lie.”
“Would both of you stop talking about me like I’m not in the chamber?” Emma growled. “And you are deluded if you think some animal blood will fool Gilda.”
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