The Guardian

by Margaret Mallory

  “Hugh’s supporters spread the rumor that Connor’s left for good,” his father said. “We hear from Duncan’s sister that Hugh is making promises he’s not likely to keep in order to gain support. Unfortunately, it seems to be working.”

  That didn’t bode well at all. From the start, it was always going to be a challenge for Connor to take the chieftainship from his uncle, but they had counted on taking Knock Castle to swing support in Connor’s favor. Men love a victory. But it was too late now to gather men and mount an attack.

  “With Samhain but two days away,” Alex said, slapping Connor on the back, “we’ll have to move quickly to let the men know you’re home and ready to take your place as chieftain.”

  Time was too short. Still, there had to be a way to convince their clansmen that Connor was the right man to choose—or that Hugh was the wrong choice.

  They discussed their strategies for the gathering over supper. But when they were done eating, they set aside the uncertainties ahead to celebrate coming home and the start of Ian and Sìleas’s life together.

  Duncan pulled out his whistle, and the rest of them took turns singing verses to the old songs they all knew. As Sìleas sang and clapped with the others, there was a glow about her that warmed Ian’s heart.

  He leaned back in his chair, watching the others. He caught his father winking at his mother and knew how pleased his parents were that matters were settled between him and Sìleas. Even Niall had come around. Although Niall had been cautious around him the day they left Stirling, his brother had warmed once he saw how happy Sìleas was.

  Ian felt at peace here at home with Sìleas, his friends, and his family. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt so content.

  “We’d best say our good-byes now,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “Duncan, Alex, and I will leave early in the morning—long before our pair of lovebirds are up. We’ll talk to as many men as we can before the Samhain gathering.”

  “I’ll meet up with ye before the gathering,” Ian said.

  “Sìleas, lass,” Duncan said in his gruff voice, “will ye be wearing that new gown ye was telling us about to the gathering?”

  Ian almost fell off his chair. Duncan was a good man, making such an effort to bring Sìleas into the circle of their friendship.

  “I must have been light-headed with weariness to be speaking about gowns with ye,” Sìleas said, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. “I didn’t think ye were listening to my blathering about it.”

  “I don’t talk all the time like some,” Duncan said, turning to raise an eyebrow at Alex, “so I heard ye well enough. It’s green to match your eyes, am I right?”

  Ian exchanged glances with Alex and Connor, who appeared to be as startled as he was by Duncan’s conversation.

  “It is green,” Sìleas said, giving Duncan a huge smile. “Tell me, will ye play your whistle at the gathering?”

  “Ach, this little whistle is for when I travel light,” Duncan said, patting where he kept it on a cord inside his shirt. “When Connor is made chieftain, I’ll play my pipes—and perhaps my harp as well. My sister has been keeping them for me.”

  The men stood up, preparing to go to the old cottage for the night.

  Sìleas rose up on her toes and kissed Duncan’s cheek. “I’ll see ye at the gathering.”

  “Careful, lass,” Duncan said. “I don’t want Ian’s dirk in my back.”

  “I’ll risk it,” Alex said, opening his arms to her. “Remember, ye promised me a kiss when we were on the boat.”

  “What promise—” Before Ian could get the question out, Alex had lifted Sìleas off the ground and kissed her right on the mouth.

  No sooner had Ian pried her loose from Alex, than Connor said, “Since we’re leaving early, I’d best get my kiss now as well.”

  Connor, wise man, settled for a friendly peck on the cheek.

  “I’ve had enough of ye handling my wife,” Ian said, putting his arm around Sìleas and pulling her close.

  “But I didn’t get my turn,” Niall said, stepping forward.

  “Ye were alone with my wife overnight and lived to tell the tale,” Ian said, lifting his hand to ward off his brother. “Ye’d best be content with that.”

  After the men left for the cottage and his parents had settled into quiet conversation near the hearth, Sìleas took Ian aside.

  “I want to tell Gòrdan about us,” she said. “It’s not right that he should hear of it from someone else.”

  Ian nodded. “All right. I’ll take ye up there in the morning.”

  “I’d rather go now and get it over with,” she said. “Do ye mind?”

  Ian recalled what his brother said about a long line of men waiting for Sìleas to lose patience with him. If she was in a hurry to tell the first man in that line to stop waiting, well, that was fine with him.

  “I’ll walk up with ye and wait outside,” he said. “I don’t want ye out alone.”

  A short time later, Ian was leaning against a tree under a moonless sky and watching his wife rap on Gòrdan’s door.

  When Gòrdan opened it, a shaft of light fell over Sìleas and across the dark yard. Ian heard their murmured voices as they talked in the doorway.

  Then he heard Gòrdan’s mother shouting, “The wicked lass has left her husband for ye, hasn’t she?”

  Gòrdan was patient, as always, with his mother.

  “Quiet, mam. I can’t explain now,” he called to her, before he stepped outside and shut the door.

  The two spoke in quiet voices a while longer, then Sìleas left Gòrdan to walk toward the tree where Ian waited. Ian felt Gòrdan’s eyes on him in the darkness.

  “Be good to her,” Gòrdan called out.

  “I will.”

  Ian held Sìleas’s hand as they walked home along the dark path. He didn’t ask about her conversation with Gòrdan; if she wanted to speak of it, she would.

  Before they reached the house, he stopped in the path and turned to her. He brushed back the hair whipping about her face, but it was too dark to see her expression.

  “I never meant to shame ye by not coming home,” he said.

  “I know ye didn’t,” she said.

  But the truth was that he had given her feelings little thought at all, and they both knew it.

  “If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t be such an arse.”

  “Are ye sure?” she said with a smile in her voice.

  It was like her to try to ease his conscience by making light of it. He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “I’m sorry I hurt ye. I wish we hadn’t been forced to wed back then before we were ready, so we could do it now, and do it right.”

  “ ’Tis true I wasn’t ready,” Sìleas said. “But I always wanted you to be my husband in the end.”

  “That’s because ye are wiser than me,” Ian said, rubbing his chin against her hair. “I hate knowing that my wife will always remember the start of our marriage as the worst day of her life. I’d do anything to change that.”

  Sìleas leaned away from him, and he felt the soft touch of her fingertips graze his cheek. “Then let’s count our marriage as starting now, and not five years ago.”

  Ian realized she was right for wanting to tell Gòrdan tonight, to have all that done and behind them. They were embarking on their new life together, now that they were home.

  Ian held her tight against him. “I’ll try to make it up to ye every day from now on.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Sìleas understood why Ian was saying these things to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him when he said he wanted to make her happy—he did. But Ian had a hole inside him. Until he redeemed himself for being gone when they needed him, he could not forgive himself. That only made her love him more.

  Watching him tonight, laughing and talking with his friends and family, Sìleas knew she could sit across the breakfast table from him for fifty years and never tire of it. But love was not always equal. If Ian car
ed for her and did his best to be a good husband, that was better than what most women got from the men they devoted their lives to—and far better than Sileas’s poor mother ever had.

  The feelings between them when they made love were so powerful that she believed Ian could come to love her in the way she loved him. When he was inside her, he called her “love” and the beautiful endearment, a chuisle mo chroí, pulse of my heart.

  She’d heard many a young woman tell of a man who spoke of love in the throes of passion and was gone before the babe came. Someday, Ian might say these words to her at other times—perhaps across the table or while he held a child of theirs on his knee—and she would know he meant them.

  In the meantime, she would take the warm affection he gave her—and, aye, the passion in the night as well—and be glad for it.

  But she would wait for that day when he gave his heart to her wholly.

  Ian was glad to find the house quiet when they returned. When he opened their bedchamber door for Sìleas, the room was filled with the warm glow of a dozen lit candles. He smiled at his mother’s thoughtfulness.

  He took Sìleas’s face in his hands as they stood beside the bed. When he made love to her for the first time in Stirling, his pent-up lust for her had made their coupling frantic, intense. If he were honest with himself, there was an edge of anger to his need to possess her that first time—until the wonder of it took hold of him and shook him to his soul.

  On their way home to Skye, they had made love every night in the dark, under his plaid on the cold, damp ground. Each time, there was still the frantic need, the sense that there could never be time enough.

  But tonight they were home, in their own bed for the first time as man and wife. Looking into her eyes, he felt an overwhelming tenderness for her.

  “I want to make love to you slowly tonight.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

  When he leaned down to kiss her, she tilted her head back to meet him. Her lips were soft and warm. Desire stirred in him, but he could take his time to savor her. She would be here always. She was his.

  He ran his hands down the slope of her back to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. When she put her arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss. For long minutes, they stood by the bed, lost in deep, lingering kisses.

  She pulled away to rest her head against his chest and gave a long, contented sigh that made him smile.

  “Ye have such lovely hair.” He ran his hand through the long strands, watching the colors slide over his fingers in the candlelight. It had every color of red in it, from gold to ginger to copper and wine.

  “Will ye unhook my gown for me?” she asked.

  As he reached around her and unfastened the hooks running down her back, it pleased him to think he would be doing this every night. He pushed the gown off her shoulder and kissed her warm, milky skin. When she leaned back to look at him, he could see tiny flecks of gold in the green of her eyes.

  The desire he saw in them sent a jolt of lust through him.

  “Let’s go to bed, Ian.”

  He swallowed as she let her gown fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Before he could get his breath, her chemise followed it.

  Apparently, his wife had decided to set a tone for the nights of their marriage. It seemed like a fine one to him. And he was pleased that she’d ceased to fret over her scars as well.

  He let his gaze travel over her, from her shining mass of wavy hair, which fell over her bare shoulders and breasts like a wood nymph, to the tight curls that covered her secret place, and then down her long legs, all the way to her slender ankles and feet.

  “Ach, ye are beautiful, Sìleas.”

  “Your clothes now.” When he sat down on the bed and reached for his boot, she pushed him back. “I’ll do it.”

  He never knew how provocative it could be to have a naked woman at his feet pulling his boots off. The glimpse of heaven she gave him had his cock standing straight. When she knelt between his legs and ran her hands up his thighs, he unfastened his belt and tossed it aside without looking to see where it fell.

  He was breathing hard as her hands moved up his legs, under his long shirt. Of course, he wore nothing under it. His cock pushed up the cloth calling attention to itself.

  Please, Sìl. He bit his lip to keep from begging her to touch him.

  She locked eyes with him as she ran her hands up the sides of his hips. “Your shirt?”

  “Aye!” He rose up enough to pull it out from under him and whipped it off.

  This time, she tortured him by running her hands over the tops of his legs, along the sides of his hips, and then over his chest. Finally, she wrapped her hand around his cock.

  As she moved her hand up and down his shaft, he gripped her shoulders and kissed her with all the passion he felt. It was long moments before he remembered he had meant to make love to her slowly. When she broke the kiss, it came back to him… but it was hard to hold on to the thought. Her hair brushed his thighs and belly as she kissed his chest.

  When her kisses drifted lower, his mind stopped working altogether.

  “Ahh!” The air went out of him when he felt the soft touch of her lips on the tip of his shaft.

  “Is that how it’s done?” she asked.

  He couldn’t answer, but she must have taken his groan as encouragement for she continued her efforts. They were quite good, but finally, he was able to get the words out to offer a suggestion. “Ye can use your whole mouth, love.”

  Sìleas had good instincts and needed no more instruction. Ian lay back on the bed, panting. Vaguely, the thought came to him that he should stop her and make love to her properly, but he couldn’t make himself. What she was doing felt too damned good.

  He came in an explosion that nearly killed him—and left him grateful. He pulled her up on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “Ah, love, that was… that was… verra, verra nice…”

  He fought the weight of his eyelids, but he hadn’t slept much for close to a fortnight.

  He awoke to the smell of the summer heather in her hair. When he opened his eyes, she was sitting up, leaning on one arm and watching him with a smile on her face. She looked pleased with herself.

  “Tell me I didn’t sleep long.”

  “No. Just a wee doze.”

  Judging from the height of the candles, she was telling him the truth. Still, he must have dreamed of her, because he woke up wanting her. He rested a hand on her thigh.

  “How did ye know to do that?” Thinking of her mouth on him made him harder.

  “I heard the married women talking about how men liked it.”

  He’d never appreciated women’s gossip before.

  “They were laughing, so I wasn’t sure if they were joking.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I guess they weren’t.”

  The candlelight played across her skin. Her nipples were rosy and peaked, and her eyes went dark when he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over the hardened nipple.

  “I did like it,” he said.

  He pulled her down into a deep kiss and slid his hand between her thighs. She was hot and wet for him. From the way she was kissing him, she didn’t want to wait.

  Next time, for certain. Next time, he would take her slowly.

  He did. And the time after that as well. They dozed between bouts of lovemaking.

  When he awoke for the last time, the candles were gone, and the first light of dawn was coming through the window. He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her sleep. Though her tangled hair looked like a wild storm across the pillow, her face was peaceful.

  Ian felt so much tenderness for her that it was like an ache inside him.

  Though he’d told her in Stirling he would let her choose another man if she didn’t want him, he knew that now for the lie that it was. He could never have let her go.

  He loved her. He didn’t know when it happened, but he suspected it was long before he realized it. With the back of his hand, he brus
hed a strand of hair from her face.

  Sìleas didn’t know her own value. He loved her strength, her good heart, her curiosity, and her courage. Though she didn’t like to hear it, he also loved her for her devotion to his family, for there was such goodness in it.

  He liked that she said her mind and stood up for herself. And that she gave herself to him without holding back. When she was a wee thing, she trusted him to rescue her from mishaps. And now that she was a woman, she trusted him with her heart.

  He would do his best to deserve it, now and always.

  When he smelled porridge and heard the murmur of male voices coming from downstairs, he knew he had to get up. Still, he let himself watch Sìleas’s face and the steady rise and fall of her chest for a few moments more. It was hard to make himself leave her, even though he knew he would sleep with her again tonight—and most nights for the rest of his life.

  But Ian needed to talk with his father before Connor and the others left. A suspicion too horrible to believe at first had taken root in Ian’s mind about what really happened at Flodden. He hoped his father’s memory had improved with his health.

  CHAPTER 31

  Sìleas hummed to herself as she washed up at the basin and dressed. How late had she slept? It was quiet downstairs, giving her hope she would find Ian alone. Her face grew warm at the thought of facing Beitris and Payton after last night. What if they had heard her through the walls?

  Her limbs were so loose that her legs wobbled as she went down the stairs.

  Her foot had barely touched the bottom step when Alex banged through the front door, holding his side. She blinked, unable to take in what was happening for a moment.

  Good God, that was blood dripping through his fingers! As Ian and Niall helped Alex to a chair, she bolted for the kitchen to get a cloth and basin of water. By the time she returned, Ian had removed Alex’s plaid and cut his shirt open, revealing a deep red gash down Alex’s side and another on his thigh.

  “Ian, ye must go for Connor and Duncan,” Alex said, speaking in short bursts between gasps for air. “They’re hurt far worse than me.”