The next time? He had bumbled so badly when the evidence of her purity lay on his erection, withdrawing and getting away from her and the bed as soon as he could that the next time would be a long time in coming. Then after scurrying away from her and his own mistake, he, a man of so many words, the man able to persuade and negotiate, the man able to get opposing sides together, could think of nothing to say to her. She’d sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard covered only in a sheet, and stared at him with eyes filled with confusion and pain and humiliation, only to have him stare off into the darkness.
Now, he’d just done it again, bumbling his way through another situation involving Marian and a bed. Would he never be able to deal with her as he did any other person? And how had she so misinterpreted his words and intentions? By Great Thor’s Ballocks! As his friend Rurik would say.
Duncan had never had the easy manner with women that Rurik had. In spite of his abilities to talk rational and irrational men into most anything, his mind and his words seemed to break apart when dealing with women over personal things.
Like tupping, er…bedding…sleeping arrangements!
He reached the group and was handed a bowl of porridge and a spoon. Without ever looking at her, he asked a few questions of his men to make certain they knew the plans for the rest of the day. He would speak to them privately about the night. Soon, they were on the road and would arrive at the MacCallum’s keep in a few hours. The day was clear and the road dry and good for travel, so they kept a faster pace than they had through the hills a few miles back.
As they rode, he tried to focus his thoughts as he usually did on the tasks at hand and those still ahead. He would need to send word ahead to Connor to inform his laird of the changes in the agreement with the Robertsons and why such favorable terms were offered for nothing in return. Duncan did not want Connor to hear of the terms nor the new wife Duncan brought back with him from someone else…like the MacCallum. He’d made certain not to send news of their arrival on too early or the wily old man would then order a messenger to Lairig Dubh.
What would Connor’s reaction be to this development? How much could Duncan share with his laird? By all rights, he should tell him the whole of it, for Duncan had acted on his behalf in the negotiations, but Marian had changed everything. And would the fact that she could not be Ciara’s natural mother bring so much trouble with it that Duncan should reveal such personal matters to his laird?
Once he thought of it, he realized that he did not think her complicit in her brother’s plot. Aye, she lied about the child. Nay, she could not be the whore that the gossip said she was. Aye, she would not tell her truths to him. The most likely reason for Iain’s manipulation of them both was his own marriage plans.
His sister’s presence, with the reputation she had and the apparent proof of her sinful past living with her, would not enhance marriage talks between the Robertsons and any other clan. Since Iain’s first marriage had ended in disaster with his wife’s death and that of their unborn heir in childbirth, he’d taken more than five years before searching out another wife. Now that he’d assumed his father’s chair and the leadership of the clan, he would want to marry and have an heir to follow him.
The laird’s whore sister and her bastard daughter was simply a complication that could be costly if a potential match was found and had objections to her living there. Which most noble-born women would have…’Twas probably easier to marry her off as part of another bargain and have her out of the way before proceeding with negotiations for a wife. In thinking on it, ’twas what he would have recommended to Iain—if he’d been asked.
Better to bargain her away than to answer all the questions that surrounded her and the daughter she claimed as her own. Better to pay off her husband with concessions and property than to question the honor of his dead father. Better to quickly get her out of the village and settled far away once an opportunity presented itself so she would not be a part of or obstacle to his new marriage contract.
He heard her soft laugh behind him and turned to see her exchanging words with one of the men. Farlen had been clear in his feelings about Duncan’s forced marriage to the Robertson Harlot, but with some persuasion he’d seen reason about not mentioning it to her. Now, it looked as though there was a truce of sorts between the two, for their conversation grew animated with Farlen describing something or someone with his hands and Marian’s eyes growing wider with each gesture.
Ciara rode now with Tavis, who had become her newest admirer and who, he knew, was in the process of carving more animals for her collection. Seeing the exhaustion growing in both Marian’s and Ciara’s posture and expressions, he thought on staying an extra day with Jocelyn’s family. First, though, he decided to speak to Marian about it. Nodding to Hamish to take the lead, Duncan waited for him to come forward before pulling his horse out to the side of the group and waiting for her to catch up with him.
“Farlen, ride on,” he ordered as he pulled in next to Marian in the group. Farlen nodded to both of them and dropped back to take a position at the end of their group. He allowed a space to form between them and the nearest riders before broaching the first subject with her.
“I would apologize to you for my behavior, Marian,” he said in a low voice. “If I had known you were…you were…”
Damn, but he stumbled over words again with her! His horse sensed his agitation and shifted beneath him until he gathered the reins tighter in his grasp. Finally he thought on the way in which she had spoken plainly to him and realized that it was the manner in which he should address his concerns to her.
“If I had known that you were inexperienced in the ways a man and woman join, I could have done things differently.”
Her blue eyes widened in astonishment and her mouth dropped open and she appeared ready to fall off her horse. This was not proceeding as well as he’d hoped. The silence around them drew his attention and Duncan saw that his men were all trying, inconspicuously or openly, to listen to their conversation. He leaned over, took Marian’s reins from her hands and led her horse off the road to a small copse of trees. Ordering the rest on with a wave, and a smile at Ciara to ease her way, he waited until they were a distance away that made hearing them impossible. If he’d been surprised by her reaction to his words, he never considered what her words would do to him.
“Which things could you have done differently, Sir Duncan?”
Now it was his turn to shake his head and be surprised. “Do you wish a specific answer or something less so?” he asked.
“I should have told you,” she said softly. “I planned to tell you, but then…”
She stopped and he noticed her breathing changed. As he watched the rise and fall of her chest, something of his began to rise as well and he caught her gaze resting there while it did. Although there seemed room enough, his tented plaid made his arousal obvious to anyone looking.
As she still did.
If he did not change the path of their thoughts and conversation, Duncan feared he would pull her from her horse and take her right there on the ground. Not a way to clear up the misunderstandings between them and certainly not a way to make his new wife believe he was no ravening beast who would have her even in the presence of her daughter. He handed her reins back to her and turned his horse to face hers. A bit of distance between them was a good thing.
“Aye, if I had known you were a virgin, I would not have…I would not have…” He stopped and cleared his throat, wondering if this was a good idea after all. “Marian, I will just say it—I would not have thrust into you so carelessly if I had known. There are ways to ease a woman’s first time and I could have done that.”
“And the next time?” she asked.
This would be the death of him. He was trying to speak candidly about what had happened, but in his mind all he could hear were the sounds she’d made as he touched her and the way that she writhed in his arms as he brought her pleasure. And that part of him that had not t
he full measure of gratification it wanted also responded. Drawing himself back from the swirling state of arousal that was taking hold, Duncan brought himself to the task he’d set and finished explaining.
“There will not be pain the next time. And I will try to make certain that you receive the same pleasure that I do from our joining.”
She shivered then, in the middle of the day, in the midst of the bright sunshine and warm breezes off the loch, and he smiled at her body’s reaction. Supremely proud that he had not bungled the entire experience for her, he felt some hope for them.
“I cannot allow that if Ciara is sleeping in our chambers,” she said in a grave voice. “I worry that she would be frightened.”
“Marian,” he said. Shaking his head, he moved closer. “I have no intention of having anyone else in our chambers when we sleep or tup. When we join, when we share pleasure, it will be our private time.”
“But Ciara sleeps with me,” she said, not demanding, simply explaining if her tone was true. “She has always done so.”
“We live as man and wife now, Marian. Some things must change.” Her expression grew worried and all the lightness and amusement left as the truth of his words sank in. “There is time for deciding the way of things between us. Once we settle in at Lairig Dubh, we will work all of these matters out between us.”
He looked down the road and saw that the rest had traveled on over a short rise and were several furlongs away from them. Thinking to end the tension between them, he nodded at the rest of the group. “Should we catch up with them?”
She seemed to catch his meaning and smiled. “A race then?” She took the reins and readied them around her hands and wrists.
“And the winner?” he asked, enjoying the way her face now lit with enthusiasm at a challenge. “Should there be a prize for the winner?”
“The loser must kiss the winner whenever they are asked to.”
He was still staring at the gleam in her eyes as she left him in the dust. Not certain if she would ask him or not if she won, Duncan decided not to be chivalrous at all. He wanted to win now that she’d set the prize and so he urged his mount on, overtaking and passing her just before they caught up with the others. The laughter that bubbled out of him felt good, a welcome change to the seriousness and dread that had filled him for days. And the matching laughter from Marian, made his heart tighten in a way he never expected.
Most of all it felt good to be a winner.
Now he need only decide when to collect the prize.
Chapter Ten
He was watching her again.
The worst part is that he only watched. Well, Marian admitted that to herself and she would freely admit that she anticipated rather than dreaded the kisses he would demand from her. His mouth had done wondrous things to hers and to many places on her body and she hoped they would do that again. ’Twas just the other part she could do without. Marian handed Ciara the cup again so she could drink and tried to ignore the heat that built within her.
He licked his lips, a movement innocent of any other meaning during a meal, but she sensed it did now. Her body reacted even if she did not, with a shiver that made her remember his every heated touch. She glanced away, not certain of how far he would take this game he now played and not wanting to embarrass herself or him by revealing the wanton side she was coming to know truly did exist within her.
If he honored his promise, he would not take her this night for they all shared one chamber in Laird MacCallum’s keep. He’d stood behind her as they were shown to it and she felt the disappointment as his shoulders slumped, for only a moment’s time, and he let out a sigh. He did not press for another chamber or for her to place Ciara somewhere else. He only watched her, focusing his gaze on her mouth and then followed the steward as he gave a report to the MacLerie’s man.
Now, the meal was nearly done, night was full on them and the day’s travel pushed exhaustion down hard. And, other than a few tense moments when Duncan said her name to the laird and his son and they exchanged glances that spoke of recognition, the evening had been a good one. Ciara, though she should be asleep by now, continued to chatter to anyone who would listen about Duncan’s men and their horses and their journey and her new home. Marian had seen this before and knew that soon her daughter would collapse in a heap where she sat.
She turned back to the table and finished the food he’d placed before her. So many years had passed since she last sat at a table like this, being treated as an honored guest, that she’d nearly forgotten the way of it. Duncan had insisted that she sit next to him and that Ciara be permitted at table this night, and the laird’s steward made the arrangements. Only a hint of a disdain touched his face as he moved some stools and benches to accommodate the request of the MacLerie’s man. Apparently the fear of disappointing Connor’s emissary was stronger than any personal disgust over allowing a fallen woman such as her to enter their hall and sup with them.
Tired now, of the miles on horseback, of putting up the pretense of civility that being Duncan’s wife meant, of worrying about what was to come in their new life, Marian could not stifle the yawns any longer. Ciara quieted at her side and Marian felt the pull of sleep on her. Duncan’s hand on her shoulder startled her awake.
“Come, let me see you both to our chamber. I can finish my business with the laird after you are settled in,” he said as he helped her to her feet. As she’d expected, Ciara drowsed close to sleep, leaning heavily on her side.
He did not wait for the request. He scooped Ciara up in his arms and carried her from the table, through the hall, to their chamber. She opened the door and watched as he placed her daughter with infinite care on the bed in the corner and arranged a blanket over her. As he turned to leave, Marian walked over to put another on top of Ciara, but he stopped her by taking her wrist and tugging her to him.
“Kiss me, wife,” he said in a gruff voice. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing their bodies together and then he stopped and waited for her response.
The room around them grew silent, but for the sounds of their breathing. His heat warmed her and the intimacy of the embrace surprised her. He moved not, only watching with those intense eyes that seemed to change from brown to golden and back in the flickering of the candles’ light.
Marian reached up and smoothed the hair from his face. He’d worn it loose at dinner and, although it softened the masculine angles of his face, it gave him a mischievous look. Then, rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. ’Twas like tempting a wild beast instead of soothing one, for she’d barely begun to stand down when he slid his free hand into her hair and held her there. Then his mouth possessed hers as it had in so many other kisses they’d share.
Thoughts and feelings tumbled in her mind and in her heart. Would he remember his promise? Would he stop before…? Would he keep kissing her this way? How did the heat pour from him so? How did a simple kiss go this far? Did she want him to stop?
He pulled back from her first, drawing in a ragged breath and then another as she did the same. Her breasts ached, the core of her throbbed with need and her mouth hungered for the touch of his. Marian discovered that, at some time during the kiss, she’d grabbed his shirt and tugged it open to reveal the golden skin of his chest. Mortified at not even realizing what she’d done and that she still clutched it, she let her hands drop and waited for him to release her.
Duncan let her go, but ’twas a near thing. The only reason he did was to show her that when he gave his word, he stood by it. He would not take her to bed when her child lay sleeping there. His erection, standing large and hard between their bodies, proclaimed that he wanted to, and surely she felt it there, however, he could control this insane desire that had sprung to life within him.
Mayhap ’twas having a woman close at hand after months of celibacy and even longer since he’d been closely involved with one. Mayhap ’twas his mind telling him to accept that which he could not change…for now. Mayhap ’twas simply the n
atural course of things between a wanting man and a warm and willing woman?
From the way she’d accepted his kiss and melted in his arms, opening her mouth to his and touching his chest, oh aye, she was willing. ’Twould just be about the timing of such a thing. And now was not the time, for dark smudges appeared beneath her eyes, telling of her exhaustion from these last days.
“Get some rest now, Marian,” he said, hearing the thickness of his voice from the desire that yet surged through him.
“When do we leave?”
Duncan realized that he’d never discussed staying on an additional day with her as he’d planned to. Desire had gotten in the way then, too. “Not until the day after the morrow.”
“Not at dawn then?” she asked, stepping out of his arms.
“I thought it best to give you a day to linger here and recover a bit. I do not want to explain to my laird how my wife arrived at Lairig Dubh in worse condition than his own did.” He smiled at the thought of that journey, but ’twas only now, years after, that he could look back in humor.
“I cannot wait to hear Lady MacLerie’s explanation of that journey,” Marian said softly. “I do appreciate your patience, sir. With Ciara and with the difficulties of the journey as well.”
In spite of the silence between them during their days of travel, she had noticed his efforts. Something in his heart softened at her words. A questionable beginning, even a bad turn or two between them, but she was intelligent enough to understand that things could improve for them. He nodded at her thanks and turned to the door before remembering the question he did want to ask of her.
“Marian, what did you tell Ciara about…?”
Possessed by the Highlander Page 10