by Mary Morgan
The man continued to stare at the stone.
When Rorik approached by his side, his mouth gaped open. “Sweet Goddess,” he muttered. “Can it be?” asked a stunned Rorik.
Magnar shook his head at the man, silencing any further outburst.
Grimacing at Rorik’s choice of heathen words, Elspeth started forward.
“Where did you get the pendant?”
Magnar’s question halted her progress. She again clutched the stone around her neck. “A gift from my grandmother. Generations of women have passed this down to the oldest daughter. Since my mother died when I was young, it was gifted to me.” Lifting her chin, she added, “Its only value is to our kin.”
Magnar moved slowly toward her. “You are wrong, Elspeth. The stone you possess is far more valuable than you can ever imagine.”
“And how do you ken this?” she snapped.
“It shimmers with magic,” he admitted. Taking her hand, he placed it in the crook of his arm. “I plan on discussing more with you, but for now, our king awaits.”
The man confounded her with his irritating beliefs. “You might be getting a marriage, Magnar MacAlpin, but you are not staking claim to this pendant.” Shoving aside her unrest, she tried to pull free from his steely grip.
He leaned closer. “There is only one thing I desire to claim, Elspeth.”
A tremor coursed through her body. “You are a brute, Magnar.”
His breath was hot against her cheek as he added, “Agreed.” He glanced at Rorik. “Will you be so kind as to open the doors?”
The man gave Magnar a bewildered look, but swiftly complied.
Immediately, the scent of wildflowers and fresh green rushes filled Elspeth’s senses. People stood on both sides of the hall—from the elite guards and those within the castle. Her mood shifted between uneasiness, sorrow, irritation, and fear. Nowhere within her was the spark of joy that should attend a woman on her wedding day. Tears smarted her eyes, and she blinked them back.
As Magnar moved them steadily down the center of the Great Hall, she cast her gaze over the crowd searching for the lone person who could bring forth a smile. When she spotted Erik standing next to Lord Sutherland, she smiled fully. And her nephew returned the gesture with one of his own.
I am doing this for you, Erik. Magnar and I shall keep you safe.
Despite the consequences, who would keep her safe from Magnar? Aye, she trusted the man. But not enough to allow him into her bed chamber. Thankfully, he had agreed to her terms.
Her mind was firm. Her body was sorely another matter.
When the priest stepped around Lord Sutherland, Elspeth gave a sigh of relief. At least the ceremony would be blessed by God.
Elspeth’s heart pounded fiercely against her chest the closer they approached. Standing before the priest, she found herself trembling and dug her nails into Magnar’s arm. Lights spun in an arc around her, while the priest professed his words of wisdom over the sacred vows of marriage. His somber tone matched her mood. Only when Magnar nudged her did Elspeth grasp they were waiting for her to recite her promise to obey and serve her husband.
Quickly giving her acknowledgement, though grudgingly, she attempted to finish the vows and let out a long sigh when it was completed.
Half-listening to Magnar’s vows, she waited for the priest to give his final blessing and closed her eyes.
“By the power that Christ brought from heaven, may his love bind you both forever,” intoned the priest.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched as Magnar drew forth a ring from the outstretched hand of the king. Placing it on her third finger, he whispered, “The ring belonged to my mother. Will you accept this ring?”
Smiling weakly, Elspeth nodded. “Thank you.” The cool silver ring fit snug on her finger, and she longed to find out more about his kin.
He brushed a kiss across her knuckles and then wrapped his arm around her waist. “A kiss to seal our vows?”
Giving her no time to respond, Magnar took possession of her mouth in a passionate kiss. The kiss sang through her veins, igniting a pleasurable sensation from the top of her head to the tips of Elspeth’s toes.
When the hall erupted into unruly shouts, clapping, and cheers, Magnar broke the contact. He tasted of ale, wheat, and his own male scent. His kiss was one of promises yet to be fulfilled—promises she vowed not to take part in. But never in all her life had Elspeth yearn as much for a man as she did for Magnar. Yet he was nothing of what she wanted in a husband. Their beliefs were completely opposite. Only he set her body humming with desire.
Nevertheless, until she learned everything about this brute of a man, Elspeth could ill afford to share any more enjoyable kisses with him.
Chapter Ten
Magnar watched the first star of the evening dust the sky with its twinkling glow. He drew in a long breath and released it slowly. Lifting his cup outward, he whispered, “You can rest easy, Mother. Your son has taken a wife.”
After draining the last of the ale in his cup, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crossed the room to the table. Retrieving a jug of wine and another cup, he deemed he had given Elspeth enough time to prepare for his return to their chamber.
Despite Magnar’s beliefs, the bed in his chamber had been blessed with holy water from the priest. While the man spoke in a dull tone about the sanctity of the marriage bed, he studied his wife, noting her strained features. As soon as the man concluded his prayers and left, the women of the keep went to the task of helping his wife out of her gown.
And Magnar retreated to another chamber for some solitude. His thoughts drifted back to the stone around Elspeth’s neck. His wife had no idea the power she had in her possession. It stunned him and his friend when they stood outside the great hall. Neither Rorik nor he had the ability to touch the powerful relic. It belonged to Elspeth. And to her alone. Until she presented the stone to another.
“The lost stone of Odin.” He laughed at the recklessness of her owning the stone. “If you knew the power, Elspeth, you could rule the wolves.”
His inner beast snarled.
Magnar glanced sharply at the door, sensing the approaching footsteps of Rorik. Placing the cups and wine back onto the table, he waited for the man to enter.
A frown marred his friend’s face as he stepped inside. Closing the door, Rorik approached. “What are you going to do about the stone?”
Magnar folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the table. “What do you suggest?”
“’Tis the lost stone of Odin! As leader of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland, ’tis yours by right. You are now wed to the woman.” His mouth pulled into a sour grin. “I find it difficult to fathom that women have controlled the power for years.”
“Nae,” he snapped, furious over his own doubt. “The stone has been lost since the second Alpin wolf,” countered Magnar. “If Odin judged it necessary for the relic to remain with women, then I cannot argue with the wisdom of All Father.”
“Can you not sense the magic?” asked Rorik, coming closer.
Nodding slowly, he replied, “Aye. But there is nothing I can do. To touch the stone without permission will weaken and possibly destroy the wolf within me.”
Rorik blew out a frustrated breath and reached for the jug of wine.
Blocking the man’s progress with an outstretched arm, he scolded, “Nae. ’Tis for my bride.”
The man backed away. “Forgive me.” He arched a brow in amusement. “Should you not be tending to your duties?”
He winced. First, I must confess the truth about who and what I am. Clamping a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he ordered, “As my second in command, I bid you to watch over the others tonight. Assure them that all is under control. At least we have found the magical relic. Until I can delve further into the history and its connection to Elspeth, we tread carefully.”
Rorik rubbed a hand over his chin. “Are we forbidden to celebrate the marriage of our leader?”
Chuckling softly, Magnar pushed away from the table. Reclaiming the wine and two cups, he strode out of the chamber. “We leave after the first light of dawn touches the treetops. I will not have you falling off your horse from too much drink and bedding women,” he spouted over his shoulder.
“You wound me, Magnar, with your lack of faith in me!”
“Heed my words, Rorik MacNeil, one day a woman will steal and crush your heart.”
“Never! Do you hear me, Magnar? Never!”
****
As Magnar’s steps led him closer to the chamber, uneasiness clawed at him. Would Elspeth remain true to her terms? Could he woo her with kisses, tempting her to surrender her body to him? By rights, Elspeth was his. Any other man might take and seal the marriage by force.
Even so, Magnar was not any man. He must confess all to his wife.
He halted before the oak door. “Aye, you called me a brute, Elspeth. But I will not take you forcibly.”
Tucking the mugs under his other arm, he knocked softly on the door. When he heard no response or stirrings within the chamber, Magnar knocked louder. Did the lass mean to bar him completely from his chamber? If he found the door bolted, he’d remove it from its hinges.
Unrest settled like bees inside his gut as his hand pulled on the iron handle. Stunned and relieved when the door opened, he swiftly stepped inside and closed the door. His heart hammered inside his chest at the vision of his sleeping wife in a large chair by the hearth. Her beauty stole the breath from his lungs.
Only an ivory chemise adorned her body. Elspeth’s red hair tumbled free past her full breasts and down to her narrow waist. Soft snores escaped her every so often. With her feet tucked under her, she appeared peaceful, and Magnar pondered if he should leave the chamber and seek rest elsewhere.
“I barely ken you, Elspeth. And yet, you are now my wife,” he whispered into the quiet chamber.
He glanced at the items in his hands. Releasing a sigh, he went to the table and put them down. Crossing the room, he went to the bed and sat. He swiftly removed his boots and tunic. Tossing the garment aside, he stood.
As he approached his sleeping wife, he bent and scooped her into his arms. She mumbled words of protest and then surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck. Nuzzling his neck, she continued to torment his lustful beast with her scent and lips. He could feel her lush body within the thin material, and his swollen cock fought to be free from his trews. Yet when she whispered his name, he halted his progress.
“Aye, Elspeth?”
Dark eyelashes fluttered open, and he stared into her emerald depths. “Magnar?” She grimaced as if coming out of a deep sleep. “Wha…what are you doing?”
“Taking you to your bed, wife.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Put me down!”
Magnar promptly complied.
Elspeth glanced in all directions and took a step back.
“Where will you go, wife?”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Stop calling me that. And we had an agreement.”
He arched a brow. “I see I must clarify two things with you. First, you are my wife.” Magnar took a step toward her. “Second, I honor all my vows.”
Elspeth dared to push at his chest. “Then why was I in your arms?”
“For the love of Odin, you were sleeping in a chair! I solely wanted to place you in the bed for your comfort.”
Her nose wrinkled, and she turned away. “Forgive me,” she muttered.
“Apology accepted.”
She peered over her shoulder, beguiling him further by biting on her lower lip. “I grew tired of waiting.”
A tiny spark of hope flared within him. Reaching for her hand, he brushed a kiss on the vein along her wrist. “I wanted to give you time. Would you care for some wine?”
She sighed. “There is none here.”
He gestured toward the table where he had placed the jug.
Giving him a radiant smile, she sauntered to the table.
Did the lass not ken the view she presented? The gossamer material revealed a heart-shaped bottom he craved to touch and feast upon. Raking a hand over his face, he glanced around the room until he spied a wrap on the trunk. Quickly retrieving the garment, he went to her side.
As Elspeth handed him a cup, he draped the wrap around her shoulders.
“I am not cold, Magnar.”
He tipped her chin up with his finger. Brushing a chaste kiss over her lips, he explained, “The view you present is trying my patience and my vow to you. I can see your pleasing body through this sheer gown.”
Elspeth’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She breathed out the word on a gasp and glanced down at him.
His cock swelled even more. Magnar immediately drained the contents of his cup and stepped around her. Refilling it with more wine, he said quietly, “I need to speak with you on an important matter.”
“Does this message come from the king or you?”
“There is something I must share about myself, Elspeth. My intention was to speak with you prior to our marriage.”
A concerned look passed over her features. After taking a sip of wine, she went to the chair by the hearth and sat. “Continue.” She motioned for him to take a seat across from her.
Magnar shook his head and went to stand by the arched window. Drawing back one of the wooden shutters, he stared out at the night sky. “How much do you ken of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland?”
“Only that they are the elite guards for King William, and what my brother told me. Of course, you are their leader.”
He swirled the wine within his cup. “What do you ken about the whispered legends of the wolves?”
When Elspeth didn’t answer, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the confirmation. Fear showed in those beguiling eyes. You have heard about the real wolves.
“They’re purely stories told to frighten the people and our enemies,” she blurted out.
“Men who were able to become the wolf,” he added.
She let out a nervous laugh and waved her hand about. “Even my grandmother was held captive by the tales of these animals doing heroic deeds for king and country. I heard them often enough during the long winter nights. But they were only fables.”
“Your grandmother was a wise woman.”
“Wise, yes. Flawed, because she believed in the old ways.”
“You are quick to pass judgment on those who do not follow your belief.”
She shook her head slowly. “And now you are judging me? Do not mistake my meaning, Magnar. I loved her fiercely. When she passed from this world, I mourned for almost a year. Furthermore, the stories she told were part of an ancient line of tales passed down from one generation to the next. After I went to the abbey, I tossed aside the folly nonsense.”
“’Tis a shame,” Magnar scolded.
“Are you seriously trying to say that you—the Wolves of Sutherland—are part man and wolf? Our king is a devout man. Are you telling me he surrounds himself with ancient superstitions?” She shook her lovely head. “I think not.”
Magnar studied her over the rim of his cup. “You are incorrect. The wolves do exist, Elspeth. And they serve our king. He has accepted the brotherhood, as the kings before him have done so for many years.”
She took a long draw from her cup. “They are men who behave like wolves. Nothing more.”
After guzzling the rest of his wine, he stormed to the table and slammed the cup down. Going to her side, Magnar glared at her. Elspeth’s indrawn breath surrounded him as he loomed over her. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he lowered his head. “Do you require proof?”
“You are scaring me, Magnar,” she whispered.
His eyes bore into hers. “Do not fear me, Elspeth. The wolf and man will never harm you. I pledged my vow to you for always. Once again, do you require proof?” His patience grew thin. This was why he fought against marriage to this woman. She was not from the Orkneyjar Isles where the women honored the wolve
s.
Anger surfaced swiftly in her eyes. “Move away from me.”
Magnar straightened and yielded to her demand.
Elspeth stood slowly and brushed past him. Her hand shook as she deposited her cup next to his. He watched as she went to the bed and withdrew a sgian dubh from under one of the pillows. Drawing her wrap more securely around her body, she turned and faced him.
“Show me your inner wolf, Magnar, but be warned, I will not tolerate any abuse from you. I have seen the fear in my brother’s eyes when he spoke of the elite guards.”
It took all his control not to unleash the fury in him. Did he not profess he would do her nae harm? Did she not listen to his vows? Aye, she was scared, but she scoffed him with her words and actions.
She was not ready to witness his wolf. Respect must first be earned.
Magnar quietly crossed the room. In one swift move, he removed the blade from her hand.
Rendered speechless, she took a step back and tumbled onto the furs.
“Pull back the coverings,” he ordered with steely calm.
She swallowed and scooted to the far side of the bed. Yanking with all her might on the furs, she snapped them back.
“When you learn to trust me, wife, I will let you see the beast who resides within me. Until then, you are not worthy.”
Holding his hand outward, he slashed across his palm with the blade. He ignored her gasp and watched as the blood pooled within his palm. Stepping near the bed, he let the blood drip onto the thin sheet. When he judged enough had stained the material, he fisted his hand closed. He tossed the sgian dubh onto the bed. “To prove to everyone that I have taken your maidenhead. Now get some rest. We leave at dawn.”
As he made his way back to the table, he heard Elspeth crawl under the covers. Letting out the breath he had been holding, he picked up the jug and went to the hearth. The fire had burned low. After tossing in more wood, Magnar settled down on the wooden floor and surveyed the growing fire. Guzzling more of the wine, he waited for the ache and fury to subside within him.
What did he truly expect from Elspeth? Did he truly believe her to be willing to accept his other side? A small part of him hoped—prayed she would.