by Eliza Knight
Niall frowned, then his eyebrows rose as he seemed to catch on to her meaning. “Och, aye, I should have thought of that.”
“That doesna mean I am weak,” she was quick to point out. “Only that I should have perhaps not had that second glass of watered ale this morn.”
Niall chuckled. “At least it is not because ye’re uncomfortable from…last night.” He winked, and she felt her face grow even hotter. Even more shocking, her body reacted instantly to that devilish wink, and yearning coursed through her veins.
She was in fact suffering some minor discomfort, or she had been an hour or so again. Her rear and nether regions had long since gone numb from cold, so she supposed she had the weather to thank for that. Despite that, she wouldn’t mind if they found a nice cozy tavern where he could take her to bed and show her once more how much of a man he was.
Niall sent a scout ahead to find a place where they could stop and water the horses. As soon as the scout returned, Niall led them off the road behind the man, and then called for them to pull their horses to a stop. Along with her maid, she found a private spot behind some bushes. She bent side to side, and then reached up trying to stretch out the kinks in back. She shook her legs out, wriggling her feet. Then in an attempt to restore warmth to the rest of her, she sidled up close to the heated mount. Suddenly, she felt another heat behind her, and turned to see her husband towering behind her. Oh, how she wanted to curl against him, to soak in his warmth, and press her lips to his… How was it possible that just a day or two before she’d been completely naïve to the pleasure that could be shared between a man and a woman? To have thought she could never…
“Would ye like anything to eat, lass?”
Bella shook her head, trying to toss away the wanton thoughts and sensations. “Nay, we can carry on a bit longer.”
He slid his hand over her arm, absently rubbing. “Good. I was hoping to make it a little farther than this before we made our first stop. If ye’re in need of a bite, ye could eat something while we ride?”
Bella again declined, her nerves were such that she didn’t want to eat anything while they were in motion for fear of seeing it returned.
“Are ye certain?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Niall studied her a moment, as though he were trying to gauge whether or not she spoke the truth.
Bella smiled at him. “I promise.”
“All right then.” He took her hand in his as naturally as the sun rising, and the warmth of his grasp seeped into her frozen fingers. The leather gloves she wore had long since seemed useful, and since she was riding her own horse, stuffing them into her warm cloak was out of the question. Why hadn’t she opted for the thicker ones her father made her wear in winter, instead of this more delicate pair? She chalked it up to nerves.
“Ye’re hands are freezing. I can feel it through the leather.”
Bella smiled and waved off his comment. “I brought the wrong gloves. I’ll live.”
“Ride with me for a little while. We can share our warmth, and we’ll stop at an inn for the night before the sun sets, where I’ll be certain to find ye a seat before the hearth to melt your bones.”
She glanced at her maid. “Thank ye, husband. But I could not take such comfort in your offer of sharing warmth for the remainder of the ride if my maid is to ride on her own.” She straightened her shoulders. “I am ever conscious of those I mean to care for.”
“As am I.” Niall whistled to Philip, the warrior closest to him besides his brother. “Take Bella’s maid up on your horse.”
Without question, the man obeyed, offering to help sweet Mary up. Mary was somewhere between Bella’s age and that of her mother, but no one was certain. She was docile as a lamb and quiet as a mouse. She’d been found in the woods alone when Bella was a wee lass, and her parents had taken her in, cleaned her up and cared for her. Immediately, the two of them had formed a connection. Mary had followed Bella around, tried to protect her from anything and anyone, and as Bella had gotten older, she’d naturally fit into the position of her maid. Although she was more of a close confidante. They’d developed a way of communicating together, and were quite close. If she couldn’t have her sisters and parents with her at Dupplin Castle, then at least she would have her lifelong friend.
Mary wriggled her brows in Bella’s direction and mouthed handsome with a nod in the warrior’s direction. Bella had to suppress a laugh.
“Will your maid be all right?” Niall asked.
“Och, I’m certain Mary will be just fine.” Bella bit the tip of her tongue to keep from laughing or saying anything that would reveal her maid found Philip to be to her liking.
Bella put her foot in the low-hanging stirrup of Niall’s horse, smiling at how much lower it was than her own because his legs were so much longer. She reached up to grab the pummel and felt his hand land on her hip and slid lower over her bottom to hoist her up. The heat of his touch seeped through her, which was ridiculous, because there was no way she could actually feel the warmth of him through all the layers, but singed was what she felt all the same.
She bit her lip, glancing down at him to see his intent stare locked on hers as he hoisted himself up behind her, the warmth of his hard body pressed to her back. He lifted her onto his lap and reached around her to take the reins, and she had to suppress a shudder. The sudden full body contact was delicious, and she hadn’t realized how much she craved to feel him against her.
“I feel warmer already, what about ye?” he whispered against her ear.
“Immeasurably,” she answered, no longer able keep the little shudder at bay when his breath skated over her skin.
It brought back memories of the night before, the way he’d kissed her, touched her, put his tongue to her breasts, his fingers between her legs, the way he’d moved inside her. The very wicked way she’d kissed his torso, flicking her tongue over his nipples just the same as he’d done to her.
How innocent all her stories of love and romance seemed compared to the way he’d taken her in their bedchamber. Niall was a master. She shivered again.
“Shall I get ye another blanket?” Their horses moved back out onto the road.
“Nay, ’tis not that.” She bit the tip of her tongue, wishing she’d just accepted the blanket as it wouldn’t be a hardship to wear it over her lap anyway.
“Are ye nervous?” Again that whisper of breath on her neck.
“Nay, ’tis not that, either.” Oh, dretch! Could she not just lie?
Niall tugged her closer. “What then? Tell me.”
“I was but….recalling something.” Nope. Not a single lie. All the truth. Every last little bit of it was apparently going to come out of her mouth.
“Oh…” His chest rumbled against her back, and her nipples hardened. “Tell me in a story whatever it is going through your mind.”
“Oh…” Bella gasped, knowing she certainly could not do such a thing. “I couldna.”
Niall chuckled. “Naughty thoughts ye were recollecting then.”
“Aye,” she squeaked. If she were able to see her reflection, she was certain the red in her cheeks would match the red of a cherry.
“That is a story I’d like to hear from your lips, but ’haps later on. When we’re alone.”
Oh, dear heavens—his tongue. The velvet heat of it tickled the shell of her ear, and he chuckled at her stiffened spine.
“What do ye say, wife?”
Bella was having a hard time finding her voice. Speaking seemed an impossibility at the moment. “Perhaps when we’re old and gray, I’ll have enough gumption to recite it without fainting.”
Niall laughed. “Och, lass, if ye can dare any lad to best ye on the field, I’ve no doubt ye’ll do just fine.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Ye mean to tell me ye dinna practice now?”
Bella glanced beside her at her horse, now riderless, the reins in Walter’s hands, with her bow and quiver tied to the s
addle. “Would ye believe me if I said I carried them for sentimental reasons?”
Niall let out a belly rumble of a laugh. “Nay. Especially not since I heard from your brothers that ye still sneak down to the beach in the mornings to shoot.”
She grinned. “Then, aye, I still practice. No use pretending I dinna. And ye, do ye shoot?”
Niall stiffened behind her, and she realized the error in her question. But certainly there were plenty of warriors who bore the scars of battle and were still able to shoot? If he’d trained himself to hold a sword, could he not also train himself to steady a bow?
“Not in a while,” he finally answered. Then he went quiet and closed off. His laughter died away, and the way his body curved around her seemed to even grow stiffer.
Asking about shooting had upset him, and she could understand why, but no amount of coaxing, no amount of changing the subject or commenting on their surroundings seemed to pull him from the darkened mood her comment had put him in. She would have to be content with soaking up his warmth and not having to pay attention to where she was leading her own mount. In time, perhaps he would return to her.
They stopped near a mostly frozen stream, and the men broke the ice with the hilts of their swords so they could top off their water skins and the horses could drink. They built a fire to warm the riders, and ate a meal of cold chicken and bread, compliments of the cook at Dunrobin.
All the while, Niall stood on the outskirts of the caravan, leaning against a tree and brooding. His brother approached him, said a few words she couldn’t make out and then went back to the men. Bella tried several times to catch his attention without success, and when she’d finally had enough, she carried her bread over to him and leaned against the opposite side of the tree, content to wallow with him.
“Who are ye planning to murder?” she whispered, overly conspiratorial and making exaggerated eyes at the men in camp.
“What?” he blanched, jerking his gaze toward hers.
“Ye’ve a murderous look in your eye. Who is it?” she teased.
“I’m not planning to kill anyone.” He frowned, though he did uncross his arm from where he’d had it rooted in place over his chest.
“Are ye certain? Because I’m certain I heard the men taking bets.” She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “I want to win the bet, so if ye tell me, I’ll wager him, and then we can split the coin.”
“Are ye mad, woman?” He turned an incredulous look on her, and Bella burst out into a laugh.
“I’m jesting with ye, husband. Have ye never heard of sarcasm? Here ye are looking as though ye want to skin a man alive. I only wanted to cheer ye up.”
Some of the fierceness left him, though he didn’t quite smile. “Ye’d best get back to the fire and warm up, my lady.”
“Does that mean ye dinna want company? Ye might as well just come out with it, sir. I’m not a docile lass in need of my feelings being protected.”
“I dinna not want company.” He shifted slightly closer, though still keeping enough distance that she wasn’t entirely certain of his meaning.
“That’s confusing, using the double negative like that.”
Niall sighed and turned to face her, the furrow in his brow making him devilishly handsome.
“Ye’re vexed.” She winked.
“Ye’re driving me mad.” He dipped his head close to hers, close enough that if she were brave, she could lean in and kiss him.
Well, she wasn’t brave enough to do that, so she resorted to her continued baiting instead. “Am I?”
“Did no one ever teach ye to let a brooding dog alone?”
“Nay, canna say as they have.” She tapped her chin as though pondering his comment very seriously. “We didna have very many brooding dogs. Not one, in fact.”
Niall rolled his eyes. “Ye’ll not leave me alone.”
“Not likely.”
“Well then.” He grabbed her arm and whirled her around the back of the large tree trunk, obscuring them from view of their party.
“Och, I see. It’s me ye want to skin alive.” Bella giggled.
“Ye, and your skin are exactly what I want, but I want ye very much alive.” He traced a finger over her cheek. “I want to feel your heart beat against mine, and your breath heavy with wanting on my neck.”
Bella swallowed hard at the image he conjured. “Then ye’d best kiss me afore I heed your previous demand and return to the fire.”
Niall didn’t waste time wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling her up to his solid length. A shock of heated desire raced through her at the contact. The sheer size and power of him took her breath, but the look in his eyes—hunger, madness, lust—it made her heart stop beating altogether.
“Ye’ll do no such thing. I’m not going to let ye go.” And then his mouth was on hers, crushing her, his tongue demanding entrance.
He claimed her with that kiss, made certain she knew just who she belonged to, and how much he could make certain it stayed that way. Bella was ready to fling off her gown and lay on the solid, cold earth while he ravished her in the snow, but he held her still against him, turning her back to the tree as he pressed his solid length against her.
“How is it possible ye can do this to me?” he asked.
“Kissing ye?” she murmured, boldly biting his lower lip. “I’m certain ye’ve been kissed before.”
“Nay. Not like this. Ye make me lose my head. Make me want… Make me feel out of control.”
“Oh,” she sighed, knowing very much of what he spoke, for she felt the same way. “I fear we will be each other’s undoing then, for I dinna want to stop. I want ye out of control, and I want to lose my head. I am losing my head.”
“Who will save us from ourselves?” he asked, kissing along her jaw, his hand cupping her breast. “Who will stop us?”
“No one. We are on our own. Just ye and me, and this. Oh…Niall, I want ye.”
He growled against the pulse point at her throat, and she lifted her leg around his hip, encouraging him closer still.
“Riders,” came an urgent warning from one of the men in the camp.
All at once, the hypnotic heat that had enveloped her melted, and Niall was reaching for the sword at his back. “Stay hidden.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 13
The sensation ripping through Niall’s chest was not one he’d been familiar with in over a year. Intuition told him exactly what was happening—ambush.
Terror. Dread. The need to shed blood. All of it warred inside him.
The riders, and from the way the ground rumbled there had to be many of them, were approaching at a frantic speed. An unsafe speed. An ambushing speed.
His men had drawn their swords, their backs to each other, and Bella’s maid’s once sweet face transformed into a silent scream as she ran toward him. It was enough to make his heart skip several beats.
An arrow fired through the trees, narrowly missing one of his men.
Every inch of his body leapt into action.
“She’s behind me. Stay with her,” he told Mary before searching out Walter, who was shouting orders to the men.
Several squires had the horses and were running to get out of the way as arrows whizzed through the air and struck haphazardly into trees, the fire, a leg, a horse’s neck. And then men were leaping from the trees, the MacGregor colors bright on their plaids. Red as the blood they wanted to shed and green as the envy in their hearts.
Ballocks!
Eòran McGregor was out for revenge after their fight in the tournament, that was evident. Niall had wounded the bastard’s pride.
Niall hacked at one man after another—and another, and another. En masse, the men attacked him, bypassing the other Oliphant warriors in favor of striking at Niall. It was as if they’d picked him out of the lot to fight, either at MacGregor’s order or because they saw his missing arm and figured him for a good target. The reasoning behind it didn’t matter at the moment, a
nd as he kicked one man in the chest, shoving him into the bloke behind him, he bellowed in their faces like a madman.
If they thought they’d found a victim in him, well, they’d chosen wrong, for Niall was not going to die this day. If he was to meet Death, it would be by his own hand or by God’s grace, not at the end of some ambusher’s sword. Not by bloody Eòran MacGregor, who didn’t even have the decency to show his face at an ambush he’d clearly organized.
Walter and the other men fought valiantly and with more heart than their enemies, but what Niall wanted most of all, besides victory, was his wife’s safety. This wasn’t her fight, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her get hurt because of some idiotic vendetta a madman had against Niall.
As he fought, he tried to keep an eye on where their enemy was going, what they were doing, to keep his awareness on the tree where Bella and Mary hid. But with so many of them coming at him, doing so became harder and harder. Sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes, but he fought through it. He didn’t have the ability to wipe it away unless he wanted one of the men’s blows to land where they aimed.
Then a woman’s scream rent the air.
There was only one woman who could scream—Bella.
Niall cut through the men in front of him, barreling into those in his way as he charged toward where he’d told his wife to remain hidden. His men swarmed the MacGregors who attempted to stop him, and just before he made it to her hiding spot, a warrior took off at a run from behind the tree, carrying his wife over his shoulder. It was not Eòran, but that made little difference, he could have been a bloody ghost for all Niall cared—nobody was taking her away from him.
Poor Mary lay splayed on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on her forehead. She was unconscious, and Niall called for one of the squires to come get her and keep guard. The MacGregors were thinning out, their ambush objective now obvious. They’d wanted to steal Bella.
“Walter,” Niall shouted as he ran after the retreating man. “They’ve got Bella!”
Bella screamed again, beating at the man’s back. Her golden locks had fallen out of the neat plait and waved wildly in the air as she hit the warrior again and again.
