The MacKinnon's Bride

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  But he didn’t stop, and she shrieked in outrage. “Put me down!” she demanded. “Everyone is watching!”

  “Are they really?” he asked with little concern.

  She actually growled at that, and Iain had to suppress a hearty chuckle at her fierce expression of frustration.

  “Put me down, I tell you! Now! You overbearing brute!”

  “Of a certainty, I shall,” Iain said amenably, though he continued to carry her up the steps, disregarding her request until he was within his chamber, and managed to kick the door closed.

  Only then did he put her down and release her.

  chapter 25

  The instant her feet touched the wooden floor, Page scurried across the room, too outraged to care that she might stumble over some misplaced object within the gloomy confines of the room. She went as far as she dared, and then whirled upon him, her hands going to her hips as she glared at him through the shadows. She tried to focus upon his imposing form standing so forbiddingly before the only door.

  “Sweet Jesu!” she exclaimed, when she still could not see him clearly enough. “Have you no tapers?”

  Lord, but she couldn’t recall when she’d been so humiliated! And then at once she reconsidered. Of course she could! No other moment in her life would ever pain her more than the instant she’d discovered her father’s treachery. Be that as it may, Iain MacKinnon’s rude conduct came mightily close!

  “We dinna keep servants to anticipate our every whim,” he answered calmly. “We do for ourselves, lass. If the room is dark and cold, I beg your pardon.”

  Page had to clamp her lips together to keep from lashing out a response to his unjust insinuation—that she would have had servants to coddle her. Indeed! If her father could scarce trouble himself to name her, he certainly hadn’t been any more inclined to see to her comforts!

  On the contrary, he’d worked her tirelessly, and the common coarseness of her hands bespoke as much. She clenched her fists at her sides, and gritted her teeth in renewed anger at the reminder of her father and his heartless disowning.

  “No servants?” she answered flippantly. “What a pity. Ah, well, I shall find myself quite at home anyway,” she answered truthfully.

  “I shall see to it,” he promised, his words a seething whisper.

  There was a moment of taut silence as he pushed away from the door and moved through the shadows. Page followed him with her eyes.

  When at last her vision adjusted to the gloom, she watched as he finally lit a taper. Its flame thrust immediately upward and remained steady and true, brightening the chamber. It was a large room by most any standard—large enough to make it appear utterly barren despite the massive bed that occupied its space. The bed itself was strewn with furs, but the rest of the room was completely devoid of anything that would give it warmth. Nothing upon the walls, nothing upon the floors.

  In the center of the room stood a small brazier, its pith blackened and unused. It, along with the bed, remained the only evidence the room was in use at all, for the chamber was impeccable and uncluttered—appeared abandoned even. A hasty glance about revealed a single window at her back, curiously barred. Through the rashly placed wooden slats, thin rays of sunlight sluiced into the musty confines of the stone-walled chamber.

  At once her gaze was drawn back toward the soft flicker of the taper within Iain’s hands. Its glow illuminated his hard masculine features fully, and she shuddered at the way his gold- flecked eyes watched her so intently.

  Was he awaiting her reaction to this place he’d brought her? Did he intend to imprison her here? Jesu, but why should he? She had no place to run to, she thought morosely.

  “What is this place?” she asked him.

  “My chamber.”

  “You sleep here?” Page asked with no small measure of surprise. Mentally she compared the sparse room to her father’s lavish bedchamber—his so filled with richly colored tapestries and manifold extravagances.

  “Aye.”

  Page cast another glance about, her eyes trying to perceive the room in a different light, but there was nothing present to give her even the slightest clue of him. “It... appears so... very... desolate,” she remarked, frowning.

  “It serves its purpose well enough,” Iain said. “What need have I for finery when my eyes willna see it whilst I sleep?”

  Page’s own bedchamber had been as chaste as a monk’s cell, but not by choice. To make it appear less so, she had usurped forsaken baubles from her father’s home, stealing them into her own chamber in order to enliven it. Her frown deepened at the piteous thought.

  Iain hadn’t moved from where he stood, holding the burning taper. He was watching her curiously while she studied the room, waiting, it seemed, for some response from her. Curse him, too, for it seemed he was always watching! Scrutinizing. Waiting.

  The very sight of him elicited such conflicting emotions, for while he was the one person in her life who’d made her feel cherished, he was also the one person who compelled her to see herself as she was.

  And she didn’t like what she saw... save when she looked into his eyes.

  And even then, she recalled all of which she’d been deprived.

  He gazed at her as though she were precious... and therein lay the heart of the matter, for she knew herself as unworthy.

  All those years she’d pretended she didn’t care... he’d made them all a terrible lie. Aye, for she cared with every fiber of her being—hurt with every last drop of blood that was wrung from her heart.

  And it was Iain MacKinnon’s fault, because before him, she had been blissfully numb.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me,” she said irascibly, “did your mother never teach you better than to fling unwilling women over your shoulder?”

  His brows collided, and his jaw went taut. He peered away. Good, let him suffer it, if he would! She might have slapped him, in truth, for she was still blenching over the looks his people were giving her as he’d carried her into his home. How dare he treat her so commonly!

  And then he turned to face her, and though he deserved considerably more than her anger for treating her so coarsely, Page regretted her outburst the instant she saw the look upon his face. It was obvious she’d managed to wound him, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made his eyes seem so melancholy of a sudden.

  “Och, lass,” he answered, his expression sober, if not entirely contrite, “the burden o’ my manners doesna fall to my minnie at all.” He cast a glance at the floor, and then met her gaze once more, his golden eyes shadowed. “I knew her not, y’ see.” The candlelight glinted upon his eyes. The glimmer mesmerized her as much as his admission moved her.

  “Oh,” Page said softly. She felt a keen stab of guilt.

  “She died giving me birth.”

  Their gazes held, locked.

  Embraced.

  “I... I did not know.” More than she had, she sensed he’d suffered the loss of his mother. It was wholly discomposing the way his simple revelation affected her. With nary more than a few words, he’d managed not only to defuse her anger, but to make her long to cast herself into his arms and share his misery.

  “Dinna fash yourself o’er it,” he said softly, nodding, his eyes fixed upon her still. “How could ye have known?”

  “I never would have—”

  “Hush, lass,” he broke in, carrying a finger to his lips. “I’m no wee bairn to need suckling at her breast. ‘Tis all right.” His eyes narrowed then, slitted, lowered from her eyes, to her mouth, and then to her breast, lingering there.

  She knew at once what he was thinking, and her heart skipped its normal beat. Her breath caught as she followed his gaze to find that her body had somehow betrayed her. A guilty flush crept into her cheeks, through her body, warming her.

  “Nay?” she asked, gulping in a breath as she lifted her face to meet his heavy-lidded gaze once more. He was still staring at her bosom. And then suddenly realizing what it must sou
nd as though she were asking, she said much more firmly, “Nay! Oh, nay, you are not!”

  His lips curved ever so slightly and he blinked, lifting his gaze once more to her face.

  In the depths of his smoldering eyes Page saw the stark intensity of his desire for her, and shamelessly rejoiced in it. Her breath accelerated, and her heartbeat quickened with the knowledge that he wanted her still.

  Warmth flared through her. “Neither... neither did I,” she revealed, swallowing convulsively. Her thoughts scattered.

  He moved toward her, and Page felt her legs go suddenly weak. Heat suffused her. He stopped to set the candle upon the brazier. “Neither did you what?” he asked softly.

  “Neither did I what?” Page repeated dumbly. He turned to face her, lifted a brow, and she recalled herself at once. “Oh! My mother! Neither did I know my mother!”

  “I know, lass,” he said.

  Page’s brows knit. “How could you possibly?”

  His jaws clenched. As she watched, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, and by those gestures Page surmised he was trying to temper himself and his answer.

  “Because,” he answered tautly. Anger swirled in the depths of his golden eyes. “No mother—no mother worthy of being called so—would have allowed her daughter to grow to womanhood without something so simple as a name.”

  Page felt the sting of tears come to her eyes at the slap of truth, but she didn’t turn away. Jesu, she refused to feel shamed by it! Nay, instead she would take refuge in the outrage he seemed to feel on her behalf.

  “Nay,” she agreed. And for the first time, acknowledged, “No mother would have.” She unclenched the fist at her side, and then squeezed it closed once more. “Nor a father,” she yielded, her voice shaky with indignity.

  “Nay, lass,” he agreed, closing the distance between them in a few easy strides. He reached out with a finger to lift her chin. “Nor a father.”

  Page felt herself begin to quake, though she wasn’t afeared, she told herself. On the contrary, she was titillated by the warm, gentle touch of his finger upon her face. “Nay,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion. A shiver coursed through her.

  “I always blamed myself,” she admitted to him, “for driving her away. My mother...”

  His brows drew together. “How could ye? Were ye’ no’ but a babe? How could ye have possibly had anythin’ to do with her leaving?”

  Page shrugged and tried to look away. “I used to dream of her face,” she said softly.

  He lifted her chin, urging her gaze upward. “I, too, once blamed myself for things I shouldna... but we canna take the world upon our shoulders, lass.”

  “But my father blamed me, as well,” Page yielded. “Impossible not to feel culpable when his words and heart accused me every time he set his eyes upon me.”

  “Ye deserved better... Only tell me your heart’s desire,” he murmured, “and I shall give it, if I can. I want to make it all up to you.”

  Her breath caught on a strangled moan.

  “Anything,” he whispered. “Anything at all.”

  Her brows flinched. She reached out to place tentative fingers upon his arm. Another shiver bolted through her as she touched him, and he responded with a shudder of his own.

  “I want you to be happy here,” he urged her. “I want you to make this your home.”

  Page swallowed. “I... I wish...” She forced in a breath. “Only... to be known as Suisan... to you... to your people. I... I don’t want them to know.”

  “Och, then Suisan ye are,” he murmured low. “Bonny and sweet.” Another quiver swept over her at the earnestness of his vow. “What else... Suisan... what else would please ye? Merely ask and ‘tis yours.”

  Page closed her eyes and swallowed with difficulty. When she opened her eyes once more, she knew they revealed her heart to him wholly. She couldn’t help it. Never in her life had anyone spoken so sweetly to her.

  Never in her life had she yearned for someone’s love more.

  And yet, she couldn’t ask for it. Dared not.

  “Naught,” she lied, swallowing once more. “Naught more.” She stared at his mouth, her body betraying her. Even as she stood there, heat suffused her. Her breasts began to ache with the sweet memory of his touch. Lord save her wicked soul... mayhap the words would not come, but her Jezebel body knew how to respond.

  Try though she did, she couldn’t wrench her gaze away from the sensual curve of his lips. Couldn’t stop herself from yearning for the touch of his mouth upon her own.

  The feel of his hands, warm and tender, upon her breasts.

  He lifted his thumb to her lips, caressing gently, and her breath caught. Her head lolled back. Eyes closed.

  He moved to kiss her, but hesitated.

  In a fit of fury, Iain had carried her up here, to his bedchamber... with only one thing in mind. That, he could scarce deny. And yet now that he had her here, he found he could not.

  Damn, but he’d destroyed the lives of the only two women he’d had in his life—his mother and his wife—and he couldn’t bring himself to ravage yet another.

  Christ, but he wanted her.

  “Och, lass,” he whispered, his heart racing. “If ye dinna cease to look that way...”

  She lifted her face higher, he thought, opening her eyes, and blinking much too innocently. He lapped at his lips gone dry.

  “What way?” she asked quietly, her soft pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

  “Waiting,” he whispered. “As though ye were waiting...” He reached out with his free hand, hooked it about her waist, and drew her closer.

  “And if I do not... what will you do?”

  It was a challenge, he thought. Damned if she wasn’t making this more difficult for him. His heart leapt at the look of acquiescence in her wide, beautiful eyes. So be it. He wasn’t noble enough to refuse her invitation. He drew her against himself, letting her feel him, letting her know.

  He wanted her too damned much—far too long.

  His heart began to pound as he bent his head forward a fraction, restraining himself still, for he wanted her to be the one to dictate, beyond doubt, all that came to pass between them. He wanted this, aye, but more than that, even, he wanted her to want him.

  Christ, but he’d wanted her long before he’d ever set eyes upon her, he realized in that instant. Aye, for he’d never realized how much he’d needed to see himself in the eyes of an eager lover... until now... this very moment... while she looked upon him with those yearning eyes... and tempted him with lips that trembled so sweetly in anticipation of his kiss.

  Och, but he wanted to kiss those lips, wanted to devour them... wanted to love every inch of her delectable body, then spill himself deep within her body as he’d craved to do the first time. He’d wanted it so badly. Wanted it now... though he knew he would not.

  Never again could he bear to see the hatred that had been so vivid upon Mairi’s face that fearsome morn. And less could he endure it were it to come from Page, for Mairi had never once gazed at him the way Page was gazing at him now.

  He felt the air between them grow thick with his need, and his nostrils flared with the luscious scent of the woman standing so boldly before him.

  “What will you do?” she dared whisper once more.

  Iain’s body reacted with a violence that nearly unmanned him, hardening him fully. He swallowed, hard, trying to keep his reason.

  One more time, he thought to caution her. “If ye dinna walk away, lass... now... I shall be forced to show you.” His heart quickened, his breath, as well, as she leaned into him instead of drawing away. She lifted a hand toward his face, and Iain caught her wrist, fearing her touch.

  Once she set the warmth of her fingers upon his flesh, he would be lost. She would be doomed.

  Aye, for he didn’t know whether he could find the will again to keep from planting his seed deep within her. womb. Visions of her bearing his babe came swiftly to mind, and he was at once torn. To
rn between wanting fiercely to see her body swell with his bairn, and dread of her revulsion.

  “Suisan,” she whispered breathlessly. “Call me Suisan.”

  “Aye,” he murmured, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. “Suisan...” He released her hand, letting her touch his face with the delicate tips of her fingers. He closed his eyes

  as she caressed his whiskered jaw, and a shudder shook him at the gentleness of her touch.

  “Show me,” she whispered boldly, and lifted herself upon the tips of her toes. “Show me...”

  chapter 26

  Page could scarce help herself.

  God have mercy upon her wicked soul. She knew what it was she was asking—knew, too, where it would lead.

  But she wanted the touch of his lips upon her own with a hunger that was madness. She tilted her head back, inviting without words. Holy Mary, Mother of God...

  She closed her eyes and prayed with all her might that he might want her too.

  He groaned, and the guttural, tormented sound was like heavenly song to her ears, an echo of her own longing... proof of his own. The hand at her chin moved to cup her face so gently that she had to fight the sudden overwhelming urge to weep, and then his fingers slid to her nape... sweet merciful Jesu... causing gooseflesh to erupt. A blissful sigh escaped her as she stood there, her body suddenly awash with delicious sensation. It was as though she were standing bare within a warm misty shower—like nothing she had ever known—and more glorious, even, than it had been before!

  Dear God, but she wanted this...

  Her hands slid up and wound about his neck, clinging shamelessly, tugging him down... She didn’t care. How could she care? In his arms, she became everything she’d ever longed to be.

  And more.

  The first tentative touch of his lips upon her own sent her pulse skittering and her heart leaping from her breast. Soft... stirring, it caused her knees to weaken and her breath to catch. All the more desperately, she clung to him. Sweet Mary, but she couldn’t help herself. He responded by clutching her more firmly against himself.