“I’m sorry.”
“Dinna be sorry.” She sat taller and looked Ian in the eyes. “I’m not.” He might think her heartless, but at least he’d know the truth. It was time to change the focus to him. “Will ye tell me of yer wife?”
Drink cupped between his hands, he rolled it back and forth, his gaze locked on the swirling liquid. “Janet and I had not been wed long, but we’d known each other since we were bairns.” He paused, his eyes tightening, almost as though he flinched against the memories. “The night before Glencoe, she shared that she carried our first child. The next day, during that bloody massacre, a bastard slit her throat.”
The suffering and loss in his voice tore through her. The rumors had not done justice to his pain. She went to him, perched on the arm of the chair, and hugged an arm around his shoulders. “God bless ye and ease ye, ye dear, sweet man. I am so verra sorry.” She tucked her head against his and held him, hurting for him.
Without a word, he slid his glass to the table, then scooped her into his lap and settled them both deeper into the cushions. With an arm around her, while his other hand held the bend of her knees, he shifted with a heavy sigh. “Ye’re a fine woman, Gretna,” he said softly. “I promise to do right by ye.”
“I know ye will.” She brushed a light kiss to his temple, then rested her head against his again. This felt so right. So safe. She breathed in the warm, tempting scent of him and smiled. Whisky. Loneliness. Need. She wondered if she smelled the same. Undeniable proof of Ian’s yearning hardened enough to make itself known through the layers of her skirts. Brazen or not, she made up her mind. “Will ye share my bed tonight?”
“I’m nay so sure that would be a good idea, lass.” His deep voice was low and mesmerizing as though casting a spell. His arm tightened around her. “I dinna wish to dishonor ye. Nor lead ye astray. Ye know I still mean to leave next summer, aye?”
“Aye. I do.” His refusal stung no matter the reason, and she’d not belittle herself by trying to change his mind. ’Twas a matter of pride. What a fool she’d been to ask. She pushed to rise from his lap, but his arm hugged her back and held her in place. She shifted to look at him. “Do ye not think it best I return to my own chair then?”
He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Nay. Not just yet. Do ye mind?”
“Do I mind?” she repeated. “Ye refuse my offer to share my bed, but ye’ll grant me the honor of sitting in yer lap with yer stiff willy poking me in the thigh? Why would I mind?” Perhaps, that was a mite sharp, but the man had hurt her feelings. She glared at him. At least he had the decency to turn a bit red.
“I nay refused because I dinna want ye.” With a defensive tilt to his chin, he shot back her glare. “Ye can tell that well enough by what’s poking ye.” His smug look made her itch to smack him. “What if I get ye with child? The last thing ye need is a fourth bairn to see after once I’m gone.”
A fair point indeed. A possibility that both the whisky and her loneliness had chosen to forget. Damn him. It was her turn to dismiss his words with a shrug. She relented and settled back against his chest. “Aye, well, there is that.”
Her gaze traveled to the open door of her bedchamber. Such a large bed in there. A cold, large bed. Common sense pushed its way through her pouting. A lusty tingle of anticipation set her mind to plotting. She had herbs. If the possibility of a child was all that was keeping him from her bed…
Chapter Seven
Ian didn’t wish to lose her soft, tempting weight in his lap, but he recognized it for the dangerous thing it was. He should release her, allow her to move back to her chair. Even so, his arm tightened around her, and his man parts throbbed harder, demanding relief. He hadn’t been with a woman since Lettie, his precious harlot in Edinburgh, had died. After she passed away, he’d sworn off the fairer sex for a while. First Janet. Then Lettie. Best to leave women alone rather than risk that sort of pain again.
A glance at the table showed his drink within reach, but he feared if he downed it, Gretna might offer to fetch him another. Then what would he say to keep her close? She shifted, rubbing against his poor aching cock. He had to risk a drink. Lord, he needed it. Badly. With one smooth motion, he scooped up his glass and emptied it.
Just as he feared, she sat up, wiggling her fine round arse against the length of his suffering member. She turned and set her feet to the floor, then squirmed her delectable bum against him again before standing. Damnation, was the woman trying to kill him?
“I’ll fetch us both another, aye?” she offered with the hint of a devilish smile.
“Aye,” he forced out. He cleared his throat and adjusted his position, spreading his knees farther apart to provide his man parts with some much-needed air. Why the hell had he pulled her into his lap? And even more importantly, why the hell had he refused her when she’d offered her bed? He scrubbed a hand down his face. Because I am a damned fool on both counts, that’s why. Unable to control himself, his gaze returned to her as she fetched their drinks. Damned if the mouthwatering line of her full breasts didn’t stretch her bodice in the most tempting way.
Pounding on the stairwell door caused them both to jump. “Ian! Come to the door, man! Now!”
“That’s Sutherland.” Gretna rushed across the room, beating Ian to the entrance. As she reached for the latch, the door rattled again with another hard hammering.
“Ian! ’Tis urgent and not a jest. Come to the door at once!”
Ian pulled her back behind him. As she opened her mouth to argue, he held up a hand. “I dinna give a damn what he says, I smell a trap. Ye know as well as I the tricks they do to newly joined couples. I’m in no mood for such nonsense, and I dinna think ye are either.”
Much to his relief, she didn’t argue, just nodded and retreated a step.
He braced himself and eased the door open a crack. “If this be a jest, I’ll wring yer damn neck for ye. Understand?”
Sutherland looked a great deal more sober than he should considering the hour and level of festivities still going on. “I wish it were a jest.” His bared teeth made the slow shake of his head even more ominous. “Alexander sent me to fetch the both of ye and take ye to the private library. At once.”
The man seemed serious, but Ian still didn’t trust him. “We’ll not be going anywhere until ye tell us why.”
With a nudge to the door, his cousin fixed him with a grim look. “Then let me in. Gretna needs to hear this, too.”
Satisfied that Sutherland was serious, Ian stepped back and allowed the door to swing open wide. Whatever had happened, it must be urgent. Sutherland rarely looked so dour.
As he stepped inside, Sutherland gave Gretna a polite dip of his chin, then settled his tight-jawed scowl on Ian. “Alexander bids ye both come to his library because ye’ve an unexpected guest.” With a flinch that made him look as though he were in pain, he forced his gaze back to Gretna. “Well…he’s actually here to see ye.”
“He?” Gretna repeated, her color rising and temper flashing in her eyes.
“Colin,” Sutherland spit out the word as though clearing it from his throat.
Gretna’s high-spirited coloring left as quickly as it came, and she stumbled back. Ian caught her before she sagged to the floor. He glared at Sutherland. “What the hell are ye playin’ at, man?”
“Colin is dead,” Gretna gasped, one hand fisted in Ian’s shirt as she leaned against him.
“I laid eyes on him myself.” Sutherland swiped his hand across his mouth as though trying not to retch. “Several folks in the hall did. Sobered up the lot of us and set the keep to buzzing.”
“The boys. Finn.” Gretna pushed away, her hands fisted. “Do the boys know?”
Sutherland’s look told them both what they feared before he spoke. “Aye. They were in the guard tower when the men stopped him to find out who he was.”
“I must go to them,” she said in a panicked whisper.
Ian grabbed hold of her and pulled her close. “We need to talk to the
man first.” Without releasing her, he looked to Sutherland. “Fetch the lads and bring them here while we go to Alexander. Stay with them, aye? Find out what ye can from them since they were the first to greet Colin.”
“I’ll see to it.” Part way out the door, Sutherland stopped and looked back. “We took him into the library as quick as we could, but many still saw him.”
Ian tucked Gretna into the curve of his arm and held her. The woman looked ready to faint. “We’ll be there shortly. See to the boys now.”
With a nod, Sutherland left.
“I canna believe that devil rose from hell to torment me again,” she whispered. She lifted her gaze to his, her panic reaching out to him. “And my poor boys, Finn especially. They were so happy earlier.”
“And they will be again,” Ian reassured. A protective rage rose within him. He’d fought the thought of wintering here, fought the notion of fostering those three young imps, and considered the handfasting nothing more than a ruse. But by damned, now that he’d accepted and committed to it all, he’d sure as hell not allow some conniving son of a bitch hurt those he’d promised to protect. “Come. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”
Gretna gave a weak nod.
They hurried to the inner staircase to avoid the main hall. Ian had no doubt the news had already spread through the entire clan. There were probably already bets being placed on what would happen.
“How could he be… They swore he drowned,” Gretna said. “They told me no man could have survived those waters that day.” She grabbed hold of Ian just as they reached the closed door of the chieftain’s private library, located behind the main hall. She shook him, fear in her eyes. “And where has he been for the past six years? Why now? Why did he come back now?”
Ian’s heart hurt for the lass. He wished her fears were a tangible thing he could slash away with his sword. “I dinna have those answers, but I mean to find out. I promise ye.” Hand on the latch, he looked to her. “Ready?”
Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she gave a quick nod.
“I’ll be right beside ye. No matter what,” he promised as he pushed through the door.
“Wife!” The man in question stood beside the hearth across the room. As thick and short as Ian remembered, Colin’s broad smile rounded his freckled face even more as he charged toward Gretna.
Ian stepped between them and shielded her. “Give the woman a chance to breathe, aye?” He pointed at the hearth. “Back there with ye. Now.”
Resentment and ire flashed across Colin’s features, flaring his face red. His tight-lipped smile made a poor attempt at masking his anger as he bobbed his head. “Aye. Forgive me. I’m sure the sight of me does come as quite the shock.” He shoved a hand through his faded hair that had once been a rusty red. Most Neals and MacNeilages bore a reddish mane. ’Twas their bloodline’s stamp. He held out a hand in greeting. “Ian, is it? Ye remember me? Colin Neal.”
“Aye.” Ian folded his arms across his chest. He wasn’t about to shake the man’s hand. Especially not after all Gretna had told him about the bastard. “I remember ye.” He nodded toward the other side of the room again. “Back to the hearth with ye now, aye?”
As Colin retreated, Gretna eased up beside Ian. She took hold of his arm and leaned into him. It warmed his heart the way she trusted him, and he wouldn’t let her down.
Alexander sat at his desk, leafing through a loose stack of papers that looked as though they’d just been unfolded. “He arrived this past hour, bearing these papers from a physician, a solicitor, and a minister. All from Inverness.”
“Where have ye been?” Gretna asked, her voice quivering. “Six years ago, they claimed ye dead. Said the waters of the Devil’s Pulpit had claimed yer body and refused to spit it out. Now ye show up here. Back on my doorstep. Expecting to be greeted with open arms as if ye just returned from a stroll through the Highlands.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders as she released Ian and took a step forward. “Ye shouldha stayed in Inverness.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened.
Ian could tell the man was straining to hold his temper. He resettled his stance. Lose yer temper with her, ye bastard. I dare ye.
Taking a step toward her, Colin twisted his worn tam between his hands. “I thought I was dead,” he said with a pat to the back of his head. “When the water took me, I couldna breathe, nor regain any footing. The rocks bashed me about ’til everything went black.” With a failed attempt at looking pitiful, he tucked his hat into his belt and stood as contrite as a criminal at the gallows. “When I came to, lying there where the water tossed me out, I couldna remember a thing. Not my name. My clan. What day it was. Nothing.”
“And now all of a sudden, ye know who ye are?” Gretna didn’t attempt to hide her contempt.
He shifted in place, staring down at the floor. “I didna know who I was ’til a week ago this past Sunday.”
“A week ago this past Sunday?” she repeated. “What happened a week ago this past Sunday? Did ye receive a sudden epiphany from Almighty God whilst in church? Did angels speak to ye?”
Ian couldn’t resist smiling. What a fine, braw woman. How had he not appreciated her before now?
With an irritated look, Colin patted the back of his head again. “While steadying the minister as we walked from the rectory to the church, I was the one who slipped on the wet pavers. My feet flew clean out from under me. And when I went down, I hit my skull on the retaining wall beside the path. Everything went dark again, just like in the water six years ago. When I came to, all my memories had come back to me.” A forced smile accompanied his shrug as he eased a step toward Gretna. “That’s when I knew I had to come back to ye. I couldna wait to reunite with the dear family I’d lost. I missed ye, Gretna.”
“Missed me,” she repeated in a dangerous tone. “Missed me?” Her fists trembled at her sides. “Have ye forgotten the many times ye told me ye considered me punishment for yer sins? Or how ye wouldha rather been castrated with a rusty knife rather than married to me? How many times did ye wish the boys dead so ye could have some peace and quiet? Did those memories fail to return to ye when God knocked ye in the head?”
Colin hung his head. “I was a fool,” he said quietly. He cast a quick, embarrassed glance over at Alexander, then at Ian. “I am a changed man, wife. Six years of helping serve the poor taught me how blessed I am to have ye and the boys.” His face brightened. “How are the boys? Finlay? How is my son? I didna get to speak to them before the guards hurried them away from the gate.”
Before she could answer, Ian interrupted. “Alexander, what say the papers?” Not that it mattered. Affidavits could be easily falsified.
“They support his story.” Alexander fixed Ian with a pointed look and added, “Of course.”
Good. Alexander didn’t believe Colin Neal either.
“I am a changed man. A better man. I swear it.” Colin sidled back and forth in front of the hearth like a trapped animal. “All I ask for is a second chance to prove I can be a good husband and father. A provider. The kind of husband my dear brother wouldha wished me to be—God rest his soul.” A simpering smile twitched his mouth as he held out both hands. “Please, wife. Give me another chance.”
“She is my wife now.” Ian edged up beside Gretna, meaning every word more than he’d ever meant anything before.
“The way I see it,” Colin stood taller, his humble facade disappearing. “Yer union is forfeit. She canna have two husbands at the same time.”
“I will never return to the life I endured with ye,” Gretna said, disgust dripping from her tone. “And I willna put my sons through such misery either.”
“Finn is my son.”
“If ye go near my precious Finn, I’ll kill ye.” Teeth bared and eyes flashing, Gretna shook her fist. “Stay away from all my sons.”
Alexander rose from his chair.
Ian stayed him with a shake of his head. He rested a hand on Gretna’s stiffened
back, praying the support of his touch would lend her a bit of his strength. “The way I see it,” he said in a mocking tone, using Colin’s own words against him, “ye deserted yer family for over six years. That dissolves any and all claims ye may have. But if the court’s view differs, I feel sure a divorce on the grounds of abandonment can rectify the matter.” He gave Alexander a respectful nod. “I’m sure in the eyes of Clan MacCoinnich, they will side with Gretna and her wishes.”
“Unlike the two of ye, the Neals, the true ones of this keep and clan, are my blood. When I married her,” Colin jabbed a finger at Gretna. “All my brother’s possessions, his trade transporting the Neal horses, and her and them two boys became my property. My brother signed a paper saying as such. The old priest filed it in the chapel records.” He stuck out his swelled chest. “And I sired Finn—although…” he snorted out a mean-spirited chortle. “If he didna outgrow his strange spells, ye can have that little dullard and keep him with my best wishes.”
Ian charged forward, wrapped his fingers around Colin’s throat, and slammed him back against the stones of the hearth. “Mind yer tongue, fool, or I’ll be knocking yer memories back out yer head for ye.” He tightened his hold, squeezing while the man fought and clawed at his hand. He shoved his face closer. “Ye will stay away from my wife and my sons. All three boys, ye ken?” He clamped more pressure. “We’ll get the legalities cleared away soon enough, but from this day forward, ye have no claim on Gretna, Evander, Rory, or on Finlay. All are mine and under my protection. Do ye understand me?”
Colin sputtered, beating at Ian’s arm. His face changed from a bright red to purple.
“Dinna kill him, Ian,” Alexander advised quietly. “He’s nay worth the effort to rid ourselves of the body.”
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