The Guardian

by Margaret Mallory

  Niall turned wide eyes on her. “I should have gone with ye.”

  “What ye should have done,” Ian bit out, “is never brought her to Stirling.”

  Even Niall had the sense not to follow them after that. Once they were outside, Ian headed toward an arched gate next to the chapel. On the other side of the arch, he continued down a set of steep steps built into the hillside. She nearly tumbled as she followed him down to an enormous grassy expanse that was enclosed by the castle’s outer curtain wall.

  Without glancing back at her, Ian proceeded to stomp across the field. She held her skirts up with her free hand and half-ran to keep up until they reached the wall. She thought surely he must stop now, but he pulled her behind him up the steps built into the side of the wall.

  When he finally came to a halt at the top and turned to face her, she was gasping for breath.

  “What in God’s name did ye think ye were doing?” he shouted. “Do ye know who the Douglas is?”

  She saw no guards patrolling this part of the wall, which was built directly over the sheer cliff. Apparently, Ian had brought her all the way here so he could yell at her without being heard or interrupted.

  “The man could have used ye and left ye murdered on the street,” Ian shouted, as he paced back and forth along the six-foot width of the wall walk, “and no one would have said a word about it.”

  He halted and looked out at the horizon. “God in Heaven, Sìl, what if I wasn’t able to guess where you’d gone?” He paused, clenching his jaw. “What if I hadn’t come in time?”

  Keeping his gaze fixed in front of him, he climbed up onto the ledge of the wall and sat with his legs hanging over the side.

  She went to stand next to him and watched his profile.

  “So why did ye come for me?” she asked.

  He turned blue eyes on her that were so intense the air seemed to vibrate between them. “Because ye are my wife, whether ye like it or no.”

  Her mouth went dry. Despite herself, her voice shook when she spoke. “I see. So ye have come because of your pride.”

  “Is that what ye think?” he said, sounding outraged.

  “Aye.” She licked her lips. “And because ye need me to justify taking Knock Castle.”

  “I won’t say my pride didn’t take a beating, because it did. And I won’t say that we don’t need to take Knock Castle, because we do,” he said in a hard voice. “But that is not why I came for ye.”

  She lifted her gaze from her muddy slippers to meet his angry eyes. “Then why did ye come?”

  “I came because it is my responsibility to protect ye,” he said. “I cannot—I will not—fail you, my family, or my clan again. Even if ye weren’t my wife—which ye are—it’s my duty to keep ye from harm. I took on the task of being your protector long ago, and I’ll not stop now.”

  Sìleas understood Ian’s need to make amends. Still, she hoped she was more than a duty, more than a wrong he needed to make right. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  It was hard to ask what a woman wanted a man to tell her freely.

  “Do ye care for me a little?”

  “Of course I care for ye, damn it,” he said, waving his arm out to the side. “I always cared for ye, since ye were a wee thing, and ye know it.”

  Like a favorite dog. A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips.

  “And I want ye.” His eyes went dark, and he gave her a look that burned right through her. “I want ye so much that sometimes I can’t breathe when I look at ye.”

  He turned away again and stared off at the distant mountains. After a while, he said, “When ye left me, Sìl… well, nothing mattered but getting ye back.”

  Surely this was a good sign? A cause for hope? Even if Ian never came to love her as she wanted him to, he seemed to genuinely want her to be his wife now; there was no dirk at his back. He felt affection for her, desired her.

  “Saints above, ye scared me half to death running off like that,” he said, his anger flashing again. “I didn’t know where ye were, or if ye were safe.”

  “Niall took good care of me,” she said, feeling calmer now.

  “Niall will be a man to be reckoned with one day, but he’s young,” he said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t understand the danger of men like Archibald Douglas.”

  He stared into the distance for a long time before he spoke again.

  “I know ye have your complaints against me, but I need to speak plainly to you,” he said. “It was wrong of ye to bring our problems here. ’Tis dangerous to draw the attention of the crown—and the Douglas. Ye can never know where it will end.”

  She leaned against the ledge beside him and hugged herself against the stiff wind. “Why did ye not tell me of your plans to take Knock Castle?”

  “I didn’t want ye fretting over it. Besides, we just made the plan.” His tone was sour, but at least he didn’t try to tell her that taking her family castle was none of her concern. “Now we won’t have time to take it before the chieftain is chosen at the Samhain gathering.”

  “I wish Connor and the others hadn’t come,” she said.

  “Bad as it was finding ye alone with the Douglas behind a locked door, it could have been worse,” Ian said. “They knew I might need them, and we’ve always been loyal to each other.”

  Sìleas watched the clouds gathering around the mountains and thought about loyalty—specifically, Ian’s.

  “I’m ready to hear about Dina now,” she said.

  “Dina? I have nothing to say about Dina,” he said. “She has naught to do with us.”

  She let the silence stretch and waited for his anger to pass.

  “I wanted to be clean for ye on our wedding night,” he said, and she heard the wistfulness in his voice. “I was taking my bath, when Dina came into the kitchen with her own plans.”

  “What about the crystal?” she asked. “I saw it on her.”

  “Dina came up behind me and snatched it from my neck when I wasn’t expecting it.”

  This admission seemed to embarrass him more than being caught naked with Dina.

  He dropped down from the wall ledge to stand before her.

  “I got your stone back,” he said, as he reached inside his shirt and tugged at a leather cord tied around his neck. He opened the pouch and let the crystal drop into his palm for her to see.

  “I swear I did not touch her,” he said and held her gaze.

  She closed his hand over the stone and wrapped her hands around his fist. “I believe ye.”

  “If ye stay with me, I promise I’ll be faithful,” Ian said. “I’ll do my best to make ye happy.”

  It wasn’t a pledge of undying love, but it was enough. Ian did care for her. As her husband, he would put her needs first, as a matter of honor. He would protect her with his life, if it came to it.

  “If ye still want to leave me, I’ll not fight ye,” Ian said. “But these are troubled times, and ye must have a man to protect ye. If you wish to choose another husband, ye must do it quickly.”

  It wouldn’t be fair to marry another man when she would always love Ian. What had made her think she could leave him?

  “I made my choice a long time ago,” she said. “For me, it has always been you, Ian MacDonald.”

  “Good.” Ian slid the crystal back in the pouch, tucked it inside his shirt, and grabbed her hand.

  Once again, Sìleas had to run to keep up with his long strides. He kept a firm grasp on her hand and forged ahead through the castle and then into the town, as if wolves were nipping at his heels.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I don’t like the Douglas,” Ian said without breaking his pace, “but I mean to take his advice as soon as possible.”

  Sìleas swallowed, remembering the Douglas’s parting words.

  For God’s sake, don’t leave her a virgin another night.

  CHAPTER 27

  Sìleas saw Niall sitting at one of the tables as they entered the d
ark, noisy tavern. He stood as soon they entered.

  “Stay out of trouble,” Ian said, giving Niall a pointed look as he passed him. “I’ll come find ye in the morning.”

  It was barely noon.

  Niall grabbed her free arm. “Is this what ye want, Sìl?”

  Brave lad. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she managed a nod to reassure him.

  Ian strode through the tavern with barely a glance right or left and led her up the stairs. At the last door, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

  Apparently, Ian was taking no chances with the bad luck that lurked in doorways.

  He kicked the door shut and set her on her feet. While he shoved a chest from the far wall in front of the door, she glanced at the bed that seemed to fill the room. When he turned and focused his heated gaze on her, she swallowed. His body seemed to pulse with a barely contained energy.

  She was aware of his chest rising and falling, the muscles in his jaw working, the tension running through every fiber of him. When he took a step toward her, she had to fight not to take a step back. His desire was palpable and dark, fanned hotter by his anger—anger that stemmed from the sting to his pride as well as fear for her safety.

  Without a word, he crushed her against his chest and his passion exploded. His mouth ravished hers, demanding all and holding back nothing.

  There was nothing in him of the gentle lover who pressed feather-light kisses over her scarred back. This time, Ian was letting her see the untamed violence of his hunger for her.

  She felt overwhelmed by the force of his need, the assault on her senses. It frightened her, and yet something deep inside her craved his raw emotion, unchecked and unbound. She wanted to drown in the stormy passion of deep kisses, to feel the writhing need of the insistent hands gripping her hips.

  Ian tore his mouth away to give her hot, wet kisses along the side of her throat. Clutching her bottom, he lifted her against him so that she felt his erection, full and hard.

  “I want ye so badly,” he said against her ear. “I may die right here if I can’t have ye.”

  For the first time, she felt her power over him—and she liked it. She splayed her hands under his shirt and bit his lip, drawing a low groan from him.

  “Well, ye can have me,” she said, and pulled him into another deep kiss.

  He backed her up to the bed, and they fell across it. Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her as if he might never have the chance again. Then his hands were running over her body, rough with wanting. Her chest felt tight, as if she could not get enough air. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  His hand was on her breast, his thumb seeking the nipple. When he found it, he lowered his head to suck on her breast through the bodice of her gown. She gasped as intense sensations spiraled through her. The world was suspended as every part of her being focused on his mouth on her breast. It was a torture, but a sweet torture that left her breathless and light-headed.

  He jerked at the skirt of her gown until his hand touched her bare thigh. But it was not enough.

  “I need ye naked,” he said, his voice a low rasp deep in his throat. “Now.”

  He rolled her to the side and began unhooking the back of her gown, while his mouth assaulted hers with scorching kisses that left her dazed and wanting. The next thing she knew, she was lifting her arms and he was pulling the gown over her head. Cool air hit her hot skin—her chemise had come off with her gown.

  Before she had time to feel embarrassed, he wrapped himself around her, engulfing her in the heat of his body and his passion. The rough cloth of his shirt made her sensitive skin tingle.

  Her heart beat hard with anticipation as he paused to jerk his boots off and pull his shirt over his head. When he crushed her against him again, this time it was skin to skin.

  Every inch of her was alive to his touch—and his hands were everywhere, running over her body, as he kissed her hair, her face, her throat. Their nakedness increased the urgency of his already burning need. She felt it in the tension of his muscles under her hands, in the hunger of his kisses.

  “Ye are mine,” he said, pausing to look at her with burning eyes. “And I’m claiming every inch of ye.”

  His hair slid over her skin as he moved down her body, planting hot, wet kisses down her breastbone, to the undersides of her breasts, and on her stomach. All the while, his hands played with her nipples, sending sensations straight to the aching place between her legs.

  As his mouth and tongue traveled over her belly and down her hip, a sliver of unease crept into the swirl of sensations that swamped her. Her unease grew by a giant leap when he lifted her knee and she felt the bristle of his whiskers and the wet warmth of his open mouth on the inside of her thigh.

  Tension mounted inside her as his mouth drew closer and closer to her center. Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss her there. Her breathing grew shallow as he moved up, inch by inch. She was at his mercy, and she didn’t care. Wherever he was taking her, she wanted to go.

  Oh God! When he kissed her there, between her legs, her body jerked—whether from shock or because she was so sensitive, she didn’t know. He groaned and tightened his hold on her thighs.

  He ran his tongue over her, sending surges of pleasure through her that had her gripping the bedclothes in her fists. She tried to form the words to protest, but the sounds that came from her throat only seemed to encourage him to do more.

  And the more he did, the more she never wanted him to stop.

  She gripped the bedclothes tighter and held on for dear life as the tension built and built inside her. When she could stand no more, she strained against his hold.

  But he was relentless. She came in pounding waves that blinded her.

  Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her. His hands were fisted in her hair, his ragged breath was on her face, and his eyes were dazed, unfocused. His chest pressed down on her sensitive breasts. But what had her attention was his manhood pressing against the sensitive place his mouth had been a moment before.

  Of their own volition, her hips rose to meet him. He made a guttural sound deep in his throat and surged forward—but just as she felt him start to push inside her, he halted.

  His face was strained as he looked down at her, blinking as if he had stepped into the light from a dark, dark place.

  He lifted himself off of her slowly, as if he were pulling himself against a rushing current, and lay beside her.

  When she turned to face him, he brushed the hair back from her face. Something had changed in him. The urgency of a few moments before was banked, though she sensed it still burned hot just beneath the surface.

  “I’ve never bedded a virgin before, so I don’t know how much this will hurt ye,” he said. “Are ye frightened?”

  She shook her head; it was mostly true.

  Her gaze dropped to his groin, and she felt her eyes go wide as she got a good look at his shaft.

  “Ach, it’s bigger than I expected,” she said, unable to take her eyes from it. “Will it fit?”

  He chuckled deep in his throat and lifted her chin with his fingers. “Like a glove. We were made for each other.”

  She tilted her head to the side to take another look. “I’m no so sure…”

  “Where’s my brave lass?” he asked, with a smile in his eyes. “Do ye want to touch me?”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “Come, give me your hand.”

  He sucked in his breath as he ran her fingers slowly up his shaft. It was strange how it felt rock hard at the same time that the skin was silky smooth. It was wet at the top.

  “See? Nothing to be afraid of,” he said, his voice strained.

  When she looked up at Ian’s face, he looked in pain.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked as she stroked up and down, more firmly this time.

  “It doesn’t… pain me… exactly. But I can’t stand it long, not until after I’ve had ye the first time.”

&nb
sp; She nodded, taking this in.

  “Sit up, lass,” he said, pulling her up. Then he dropped to his knees on the floor and pulled her to the edge of the bed so that her knees were on either side of his hips.

  When he enfolded her in his arms, she was acutely aware of his shaft pressing against her. He kissed her face and leaned down to kiss the side of her throat. Then he gave her a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue moving in and out, exploring her mouth. The ache between her legs grew as he moved his hips back and forth, causing his shaft to move with exquisite slowness against her.

  He covered her breasts with his hands, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and fingers as he continued moving against her. She felt spineless, hardly able to sit up. His shaft slid easily because she was so wet, but Ian didn’t seem to mind.

  He leaned back, and she felt the heat of his gaze on every intimate part of her. It made it hard to breathe.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low and rough.

  But Ian was the beautiful one. With his eyes darkened by desire to midnight blue, his black hair, and the hardened body of a young warrior, he could enchant the faerie queen herself.

  “I want ye so badly,” he said.

  When he pushed her back on the bed, she was grateful because she didn’t have the strength to sit up any more. He pulled her up further on the bed and hovered over her on all fours. Her breath came in shallow gasps when he cupped the sensitive spot between her legs and started moving his fingers over her in a circular motion.

  When he leaned down to take her mouth, she slid her arms around his neck. Soon she was lost in deep kisses. She pulled him against her, wanting to feel his weight on her.

  The breath went out of her in a huff when the tip of his shaft pressed against her opening. On their own, her legs went round him, urging him forward.

  He broke the kiss. With his eyes on hers, watching her closely, he eased forward a fraction until something inside her stopped him. Sweat broke out on his brow.

  “It will hurt a bit,” he said.

  “I don’t care.” She felt edgy, impatient.