The Guardian

by Margaret Mallory

  “It’s your father’s pain speaking,” Sìleas said. “He doesn’t mean it like it sounds.”

  “He means precisely what he says.” Niall slammed the side of his fist against the byre wall beside him. “He couldn’t be plainer.”

  “Well, I am proud of ye, if that matters at all to ye.” Sìleas put her hand to Niall’s cheek. “I am so proud of what ye did that my chest fairly bursts with it every time I think of it.”

  “Ye mean it, Sìl?” Neill said, blushing bright red.

  “Ach, of course I do!” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve watched you grow into a man we can all rely on. To tell the truth, I’m sick with jealousy over the woman who is going to have ye, because you’re going to make the finest husband in all of Scotland.”

  Ian felt the bite of criticism in her words. A man we can all rely on. The finest husband in all of Scotland. He felt his shortcomings on both counts.

  “But don’t forget that it was your father who taught ye to be the man ye are,” she added in a softer voice. “I’m spitting mad at Payton just now, but I’m also praying he’ll get back to himself again. When he does, I know he’ll regret every word he said to ye.”

  “So here ye are,” Ian said, pretending he had just come into the byre.

  They both turned as he stepped into view.

  “I’m sorry da was so harsh with ye,” Ian said.

  “Do ye think I did the right thing, bringing da back?” Niall was looking up at him with earnest eyes, seeking his approval as he used to years ago.

  Ian suspected he would feel the same way his father did. A man who couldn’t fight was not really a man anymore. Still, in Niall’s place, he would have done the same.

  “I don’t know if it was the right thing,” Ian said. “But ye had no choice.”

  When Sìleas started to follow Niall out of the byre, Ian held her arm. He felt guilty when she turned to face him and he saw wariness replace the kindness that had been in her eyes when she spoke with his brother.

  “Thank ye for speaking to Niall as ye did,” he said. “Ye restored his pride.”

  Her expression softened at the praise, and he felt another wave of guilt. If paying her a well-deserved compliment was all it took to please her, he should have managed it before.

  “The weather should clear soon,” he said. “Will ye take a stroll with me later?”

  “I’ve too much work to—”

  “Ye have time to go with Gòrdan and Alex, but not with me?” he said, failing to keep the sharpness from his tone.

  “I have a pleasant time with them,” she said, her eyes snapping. “I see no cause to get behind with my chores to have an argument with you.”

  She tried to pull away, but he held her arm fast. “Ach, I don’t mean to argue with ye,” he said. “Will ye go with me to Teàrlag’s cottage? Ye could take her a basket.”

  He knew from his mother that Sìleas and Duncan’s sister took turns bringing the old seer food. Without it, Teàrlag wouldn’t make it through the winter.

  “I do need to visit her.” Sìleas pressed her lips together, considering.

  “So come along and keep me company,” Ian said.

  “I will,” she said. “But what is taking ye to Teàrlag’s cottage?”

  “I’m meeting Connor and Duncan there,” Ian said. “Can ye be ready in an hour or two? I have something to do first.”

  Sìleas bit back her irritation as she showed Dina where things were kept in the kitchen. In truth, irritation was far too mild a word for what she felt.

  It wasn’t that Dina was doing anything in particular to aggravate her—at the moment. Every time she looked at Dina, however, she saw her with her legs wrapped around Ian’s bare backside as the pair rocked against the shepherd’s hut.

  Sìleas banged a pot onto the worktable—and then was doubly annoyed when she could not recall what she meant to do with it.

  The fornicating pair had been too absorbed in what they were doing to notice the nine-year-old girl who was watching from a few yards away. At first, Sìleas had been too stunned to cover her eyes—which probably explained why her memory of it was crystal clear. Even when she finally covered them, she could hear Dina’s odd gasps and her shouts of Aye! Aye!

  “Aye?”

  The sound of Dina’s voice right next to her made Sìleas jump a foot.

  Dina gave her a puzzled look. “Is this where Beitris hides the salt?”

  Sìleas nodded without looking to see where Dina was pointing. She hated having this woman in the house. How dare Ian bring his former lover into their home? But then, this wasn’t truly her home, was it?

  And perhaps Dina wasn’t Ian’s former lover, either.

  Sìleas started chopping turnips with a large knife. Whack, whack, whack.

  She was angry with Ian for giving her that ugly memory of him and Dina. Ach, it was annoying that it upset her as much now as it had when she was a child. But everything changed between her and Ian after that. She paused in her chopping. No, the change had begun earlier.

  As Ian left boyhood behind, he came to Knock Castle less and less often to take her for a ride on his horse or out in his boat. Then he was away at the university in the Lowlands for months at a time. And when he was home, he seemed to spend all his time practicing his battle skills with the men—or flirting with the lasses old enough to have breasts.

  Or more than flirting.

  “You’re not getting much chopping done,” Dina said, drawing her attention to the single chopped turnip on the table.

  “Do ye think ye can get supper on alone?” Sìleas said, as she lifted her apron over her head. “I have an errand to run.”

  She fled the kitchen without waiting for Dina to answer and went looking for Ian, intent on telling him she had changed her mind about going to Teàrlag’s with him. She stopped in her tracks when she found him behind the byre with his father.

  Her throat felt tight and tears stung the back of her eyes as she took in the scene. Damn Ian. Just when she was ready to accept that he had nothing left in him of the lad she had loved, he would go and do something like this.

  Ian had carved a piece of wood and fitted it with leather straps to his father’s half-missing leg. With one arm over Ian’s shoulder, Payton was learning to walk with it.

  The rest of them had treated Payton like the invalid they saw him to be. They fetched and carried for him and—until today—put up with his rage at finding himself less than the man he used to be. Ian was a warrior and understood his father better than they had.

  She felt guilty as she realized this was the first Payton had been outside the house since Niall carried him home—and this was a man who was used to spending most of his waking hours outdoors.

  She watched as Ian walked with his father at an excruciatingly slow pace, up and down the length of the byre, and then up and down again.

  “Ye got it, da,” Ian said.

  Payton snorted. “Soon I will be dancing, aye?”

  “Ye were always a terrible dancer, da.”

  At the sound of Payton’s laugh, she felt her determination to resist Ian weaken another notch. This was so like the Ian she remembered. He had seen just the right thing to do to help his father and done it.

  “Ye will be walking on your own in no time,” Ian said. “As soon as ye do, we’ll get a sword in your hand.”

  “Good. I’m a much better fighter than dancer,” Payton said.

  Ian was still laughing when he looked up and saw her. She managed to wipe her tears away before Payton noticed her as well.

  “Ah, Sìleas,” Payton said, with a smile that shone in his eyes. “ ’Tis a fine day to be out, is it not?”

  It was bone-cold and damp.

  “A very fine day, indeed, Payton,” she said, her eyes blurring. “The best in a long, long while.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Sìleas’s emotions felt raw, whipsawed between her anger with Ian and the warmth she felt toward him for what he’d done for Pay
ton. She realized this walk to Teàrlag’s was the first she had been alone with him since his return—except for the two times in her bedchamber, which hadn’t been good for conversation.

  “What will ye do to see that Connor is made chieftain?” she asked, for something to say.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes, for the sake of the clan,” Ian said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Connor. He’s like a brother to me.”

  If Ian had a plan, he wasn’t sharing it with her.

  “Teàrlag’s is a good place to meet,” she said. “I rarely see another soul on the path to her cottage.”

  “I suspect Connor and Duncan are staying in the cave on the beach below her cottage,” Ian said. “That cove is a good place to hide Shaggy’s boat as well.”

  “I remember that cave,” she said, turning to him. “You lads used to hide there, pretending ye were wild pirates.”

  The other boys had been furious when she found them, until Ian suggested she could be the captive princess they held for ransom. At the time, being bound and gagged had seemed a small price to pay to be included in their game.

  The path turned inland for the last mile, taking travelers through the valley to avoid the high sea cliffs on this stretch of the coast. Before taking the turn, Sìleas and Ian left the path to stand in a flat, grassy area at the top of the cliff.

  “This is one of my favorite places,” Sìleas said.

  She breathed in the brisk sea breeze as she gazed at the mountains that rose up on the other side of the inlet. Excitement tingled at her fingertips as she listened to the crash of waves far below. Like many islanders, the wildness of the sea spoke to her soul.

  “Shall we see if the log is still there?” Ian asked, pointing to their right, where a goat path continued along the cliff.

  “Aye, let’s.”

  Ian took her hand and smiled at her as he tucked it under his plaid to keep it warm. She knew he was remembering, as she was, how he used to take her hand along this path.

  “I’m no likely to step off the edge now,” she said, smiling back.

  “All the same, I’ll feel better if I have a hold on ye,” he said. “The wind is strong, and it’s a long way down.”

  The first part of the cliff path was wide enough for them to walk side by side between the cliff and the rock outcrop. After a short distance, the path veered around a huge boulder. It narrowed beyond that and then ended abruptly at the edge of a giant crevice that split the cliff.

  “The log is still here,” Ian said, sounding pleased.

  In a long-ago storm, a tree that had once clung to the edge of the cliff fell across the thirty-foot fissure, forming a bridge of sorts. The only way to continue was to cross the log as the goats did.

  Sìleas sucked in her breath as she peeked over the edge. “I can’t believe you lads used to cross here, instead of going around by the main path.”

  “Ach, we were foolish. ’Tis a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves,” Ian said, pulling her back. “The only time I was truly frightened, though, was when ye followed us.”

  Sìleas remembered the feel of the slippery wood beneath her bare feet and the sound of the swell and crash of the waves against the rocks below. Ian had told her not to come, so she had hidden behind the boulder until all four boys had crossed over the crevice and disappeared down the path on the other side.

  “It took a year off my young life when I turned around and saw ye on the log.” Ian put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side.

  She had gotten halfway across the crevice before she looked down and froze.

  “What made ye turn around that day?” she asked. His arm felt good around her. She couldn’t help leaning into him.

  “I felt a prickle at the back of my neck.” He gave her a smile that made her stomach flutter and touched his knuckle under her chin.

  Sìleas watched the water rise as another wave filled the narrow crevice, then crashed against the sheer walls. As it exploded into spray and foam, she tasted the dizzying fear that had gripped her when she stood on that log as a wee girl. That day, she had been unable to take her eyes off the rushing water thundering below her—until she heard Ian calling to her.

  Don’t look down, Sìl, Look at me. Look at me!

  Biting her lip, she’d torn her gaze from the swirling water to meet Ian’s eyes.

  Don’t be scared, because I’m coming to get ye.

  Ian had walked across the log toward her, holding her with his gaze and talking to her all the while. Even now, her body recalled the surge of relief that went through her limbs when his hand finally clasped her wrist.

  I’ve got ye now. I’ll not let ye fall.

  And he hadn’t.

  Sìleas realized she was holding her breath and blew it out. A swell of gratitude rose in her chest for the eleven-year-old boy who had crossed the log without a moment’s hesitation to save her. Ian was always like that—fearless and decisive in a crisis. It was not the only time he had rescued her, just the most dramatic.

  After that day, whenever she was in trouble, she no longer prayed to God to save her. Instead, she prayed for God to send Ian.

  “Sìleas,” Ian said, bringing her attention from the lad in her memory to the man beside her. He backed her up to the boulder and braced his arms on either side of her. “I think ye owe me a kiss for scaring me half to death that day.”

  Without waiting for her to agree, he lowered his head toward hers.

  She couldn’t resist him and didn’t want to. Gripping the front of his plaid to steady herself, she tilted her head back to meet him. When his lips touched hers, she melted into him. The water crashing and churning below and the wind whipping the branches of the trees above echoed the tumult pulsing through her.

  Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy as he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks.

  “Did ye bring me to this spot thinking the memory would make me soft on ye?” she asked.

  “Aye,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “Did it work?”

  Beneath his vanity and that dangerous edge that seemed to make the air crackle around him, she caught glimpses of the good-hearted lad he used to be. Remembering that boy’s blind disregard for his own safety to protect her, she could almost trust him.

  Yet it wasn’t the boy who had left her, but the man.

  “Ye didn’t used to smell so good,” Ian said, kissing her hair. He ran his hands up her sides under her cloak, making her feel light-headed and breathless. “I like the feel of ye even better.”

  It was hard to think with his hands on her and his breath in her ear. Finally, she forced herself to brace her hands against his chest.

  “I paid ye the kiss,” she said. “Now it’s time we were on our way.”

  “That kiss was for scaring me that day,” he said, as he brushed light kisses along her jaw. “I’m afraid ye owe me several more for getting ye off the log.”

  Her heart raced as he brought his mouth back to hers. His lips were soft and warm and, once again, she turned liquid in his arms. When he ended the kiss, she peeled herself away from him, feeling flushed and confused.

  “I’m verra glad I waited to collect the debt,” he said, smiling at her with the devil in his eyes.

  “I am not a trinket to be played with.” Sìleas attempted to push him away, but he was as immovable as the rock at her back.

  “I don’t know what ye mean by that remark.” he said, his smile gone and the edge of anger in his voice. “What makes ye think I take ye lightly?”

  “Perhaps because ye ignored me and your vows for the last five years,” she said. “And don’t try to tell me ye had no women in France, for I’ll no believe it.”

  “I didn’t think of ye as my wife then.” He took her chin in his hand and fixed intense blue eyes on her. “But I do now.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She darted under his arm and started around the boulder, but he caught her around the waist and hauled her back.

  “Ye are my wife, like it
or no,” he said, towering over her. “So ye may as well like it.”

  “I don’t like it,” she said. “Not one bit.”

  “Ye lie, Sìl,” he said, his eyes hot on hers. “Ye like it when I kiss ye. If ye have forgotten already, I’ll have to show ye again.”

  Ian pulled her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her senseless. Every argument faded under the assault on her senses. It was as if she had been starving for his kisses without knowing it. Now that she had discovered what she craved, she had to taste it, touch it. She wanted to swallow him whole, take him inside her, and never lose him.

  She clung to him, unable to get close enough.

  “I want to feel you,” Ian said, pushing back her cloak.

  Wherever he touched, his hands burned her skin with a heat that drew her ever closer. He dropped his head and pressed his lips to where her pulse was beating madly at the base of her throat. She sucked in her breath as his hands covered her breasts.

  “Ahhh,” he breathed. “Your breasts were made for my hands.”

  He dipped his head lower, running his tongue in the valley between them. His lips were warm and wet on her skin. When he took her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pure lust shot through her body and down her limbs, like whiskey on an empty belly.

  Her head fell back against the boulder as she let the new sensations take her. When she felt the moist warmth of Ian’s mouth on her breast, she started. He found the nipple through the cloth and flicked his tongue over it, and it felt so good she didn’t want him to stop.

  When he sucked her breast into his mouth, she felt it down to her toes. She had a fleeting sense of embarrassment when she realized she had groaned aloud, but it was soon lost in the swirl of sensations Ian was pulling from her. She was panting by the time he released her breast to move up her throat with hot, wet kisses.

  “Ach, I love the sounds ye make,” he said against her ear. “I want ye beneath me, Sìleas. I want to bury myself inside ye and bring ye such pleasure that ye cry out my name.”