by Amy Tolnitch
“I met him once at de Grantham Castle.”
Freya gazed down at her. “Then you know what I mean.” As she circled the ring, she shook her head. “’Tis a sad thing. I fear Padruig will never allow anyone to be truly close to him again.”
“Nay. Why would he?”
“I am sorry, Aimili.”
Aimili just stared at her. “So am I,” she finally managed to say.
I am in hell, Padruig thought, watching Aimili walk into the hall accompanied by a grinning Freya. The boyish young girl he’d taken to wife was gone this eve. Damn Freya and her meddling, he swore to himself.
“A child, hmm?” Magnus murmured next to him.
“Shut up.”
Magnus chuckled and leaned back on his seat.
Aimili wore a deep green bliaut with blue embroidery around the neck. Beneath the bliaut peeked an undertunic of a lighter green, and around her narrow waist she wore a girdle of silver. Someone, probably Freya, had laced the bliaut tight enough that the fabric outlined breasts Padruig knew were plump and firm. Aimili’s hair cascaded around her face and down her back. The candlelight picked up the copper strands in her hair.
She stared at him through big, dark eyes framed by sooty lashes.
Padruig shot back a drink of wine and frowned. By the saints, now he was thinking like some blasted poet.
“Do not scowl so,” Magnus told him. “You shall upset your bride.” Laughter underlay his words.
“I doubt that. Aimili is no frightened hare.”
“Nay.”
Padruig stood as Aimili and Freya approached. Efrika came in behind them with Alasdair. “Good eve,” he said politely, before retaking his seat. He took a deep breath as Aimili settled in next him and had to grab hold of his chair to stop himself from leaning closer. What in heaven had she put on her skin? She smelled like flowers and something earthy, the combination making him want to bury his nose against her neck. He refilled his cup.
“Would you care for wine?” he asked, not looking at her.
When she didn’t immediately answer, he glanced at her.
“Yes. Thank you.”
How had this happened? Padruig wondered with more than a hint of desperation. You have been too long without a woman, he told himself. ’Tis that simple. He poured wine in Aimili’s cup.
She took a sip, licking her lower lip when a drop of wine strayed.
She might as well have licked his rod for the effect it had on Padruig. He shifted on his seat, then looked up to find Efrika watching him with a knowing look. “I understand you and our Aimili had an interesting encounter on the field today,” she said.
Alasdair guffawed.
“We did, indeed,” Padruig said.
Aimili coolly popped a piece of cheese in her mouth. “’Twas not much of a contest.”
“You took me by surprise. I was endeavoring not to harm you.”
She leveled him with a look, one brow raised. “I told you I can take care of myself.”
Padruig signaled the servants to begin serving the meal. “Still, you will take a guard when you venture out of the castle.”
“D’Ary has offered to accompany me.” She cut a piece of bread.
“D’Ary.”
“Aye. He is also going to help me with my horses.”
“I see.”
“Padruig, Aimili is helping me ride again!” Freya said, as usual completely missing the undertones of the conversation. “It was fun.”
Padruig’s heart softened at the enthusiasm in his sister’s voice. “I am glad, Freya. ’Tis past time you rode again.”
“I know. I am a coward.”
Aimili coughed and shot Freya a look.
Freya smiled. “Och, no, I cannae say that, can I? I am courageous and I will succeed!”
“Much better,” Aimili told her. She turned to Padruig, her expression serious. “You were there the day Freya fell?”
“Aye.” Thankful for a safe topic of conversation, he said, “We were lucky Freya did not suffer a worse injury. The horse was uncontrollable.”
“Did you notice aught that caused the horse to bolt?”
“Nay. ’Twas the strangest thing. None of the other mounts reacted at all, but Freya’s horse behaved as if death rode his flanks.”
“Had the horse ever done anything like that?”
“I do not know.” Padruig wrinkled his brow. “Actually, I do not recall much about the horse at all, other than the fact that Hugo had to put him down.”
Aimili slowly chewed a bite of roasted mutton.
“You are not suggesting that someone deliberately tried to harm Freya?” Padruig asked in a low voice.
“I am no sure. Something about the event bothers me. I do know horses, Padruig.”
“I ken. I heard you are having better luck with Loki.”
“Aye.”
“I hope you are wrong about Freya, though. I cannot imagine why anyone would want to hurt her. The clan has always doted on her.”
A strange look passed over Aimili’s face, then was gone. She shrugged. “Accidents do happen. And even the best behaved mount can take a fright.”
“True enough. Thank you for taking the time to aid Freya.”
“’Tis my pleasure.” She delicately wiped her mouth with a square of linen.
Padruig found the sight so arousing that he decided the only way to survive the meal was to ignore her. He engaged Magnus in a lengthy discussion about the market at Inverness and somehow managed to get though supper without making an utter fool of himself.
Just as he was congratulating himself, he felt a hand on his arm. “Padruig?”
Suppressing a groan, he turned to his wife. “If you do not mind, I believe I shall retire,” she said. “It has been a long day.”
“Of course.” Relief spilled through him, and he managed a smile. “Sleep well.”
“Do you … do you wish to accompany me?” she asked softly.
Hell, yes! he wanted to shout. His mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. “I have matters yet to discuss with Magnus,” he said ignoring the snort behind him.
Aimili nodded, then turned to speak to the others seated on the dais before walking out.
Padruig forced himself not to watch her.
“Coward,” Magnus whispered.
“Cease,” Padruig whispered back, filling his cup once again.
“Ye are being foolish. ’Tis clear the lass wants you.”
Padruig closed his eyes and fought for calm. Images spilled through his mind too fast for him to control, and the ache in his rod was insistent. “She does not know what she wants.”
“Your lady is no as sheltered as you pretend.” Magnus leaned close and said in Padruig’s ear, “She breeds horses, remember. She watches while her stallions cover her mares. By the saints, man, she supervises the act herself no doubt.”
“Shut. Up.”
“The lass knows what mating looks like.”
“Horses, Magnus. Not people.”
“Is it so different?”
Padruig felt a drop of sweat trickle down his face. “She is an innocent lass to be treated with honor, with care.”
“Mayhap, but I think your lady has a wildness in her soul.” Magnus sat back and grinned.
“Do you not have somewhere to go for your trading ventures? Perth perhaps?”
“Nay. I am quite content here for the time. ’Tis proving to be very entertaining.”
“Magnus, I—” Padruig broke off at the sound of a scream. He drew his sword and ran toward the doors to the great hall, his heart near to pumping out of his chest. Footsteps pounded behind him, but he didn’t pause to glance back.
He burst out into the evening, flying down the steps into the deserted bailey. “Aimili!” he bellowed.
Magnus rushed to his side, holding a torch high. The flames flickered over the trodden ground, but there was neither sight nor sound of Aimili.
“Ivarr,” Padruig called out. A guard peered down from the w
all walk atop the curtain wall. “Have you seen Lady Aimili?”
“Nay.”
“Did you hear a scream?”
“I did hear somethin’, but I thought it was just an animal.”
Padruig wasn’t sure how he knew, but he knew to his bones that the scream had been Aimili. “Call an alarm.”
The guard whistled three times in succession, and a troop of men streamed out of the gatehouse.
Padruig stalked across the ground toward the south tower holding their chamber. Magnus followed him. “Spread out and search the entire castle,” he yelled at Randulf, one of the senior guards. “Lady Aimili is missing.”
“She cannae be far,” Magnus said as they hurried along. “’Twas only a matter of moments.”
“Long enough to come to harm. I should have escorted her.” Padruig’s belly twisted in guilty knots. If anything had happened to Aimili … He couldn’t even bear to finish the thought, a sick lump of dread and guilt spreading through his chest. Brona’s still, white face flashed in his mind, but he shoved it away.
“Aimili!” he shouted instead.
The deafening sound of silence answered him.
He and Magnus arrived at the base of the south tower. “Wait here,” Padruig told Magnus. “I shall check our chamber.” He ran up the steps and through the doorway to the chamber. Cai raised his head from a spot in front of the lit fire. “Aimili?” he asked, quickly glancing around the chamber.
Cai jumped up and bumped Padruig’s leg with his nose. “Aye, boy, we need to find her. Come.” He ran back down the steps and shook his head at Magnus.
Magnus pointed at Cai. “Can the wolf track her?”
“Mayhap.” Padruig looked down at Cai. “Find Aimili.”
Cai tilted his head one way and then the other, before padding off into the expanding darkness.
Padruig chased after him, struck by the similarity to a time not so long ago when he’d followed Cai to find Giselle out in the woods, covered in blood and hysterical after being kidnapped by a monster. He gritted his teeth and sent up a prayer for Aimili.
Lights bobbed in the darkness, and voices called over and over for Aimili. It seemed like hours before Cai let out a woof and loped toward the back corner of the stables.
“There she is,” Magnus said, his voice grim.
Aimili lay crumpled on the ground, her dark bliaut and hair blending in so well with the shadows that but for Cai they might not have spotted her. Padruig dropped to the ground and put his fingers against her throat, unable to breathe while he waited to feel a heartbeat.
She groaned and tried to put her hand up to block the torchlight. “Aimili,” Padruig said. “’Tis all right now.” He picked her up in his arms, and felt a bump on the back of her head.
“I … I am fine,” she choked out.
“Magnus, tell the others I found her,” Padruig said, ignoring Aimili’s obvious lie. “Then, fetch Efrika. I am taking Aimili to our chamber.”
“Aye, Laird.” With a last worried glance, Magnus rushed off.
Padruig fought to rein in his temper. How dare anyone attack his wife within the walls of the castle? And what had she been doing over by the stables? D’Ary’s face jumped into his mind, but he refused to give reign to his suspicions. With Cai bounding along beside him, he remained focused on getting Aimili up into their chamber, where he laid her gently atop the bed.
She blinked at him, and scooted to a sitting position, gingerly feeling the back of her head.
Padruig sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
“I … I am no exactly sure. I was walking toward our chamber. I felt like someone was watching me, but I didn’t see anyone.”
“Why were you by the stables?”
She frowned. “Was I? I… I don’t know.”
“Did you see D’Ary?”
“D’Ary? No, I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone, but suddenly something smashed into the back of my head. ’Tis the last I remember until you found me.” She flushed. “Thank you.”
“I heard you scream.”
“You did? I dinnae remember doing so.”
Efrika burst into the room carrying a basket. Freya followed close behind, and, lastly, Magnus. “My poor dear, are you all right?” Efrika asked.
“Aye, but my head hurts a bit.”
“Who did this?”
Aimili started to shrug, then winced. “I never saw him. ’Twas too dark, and he came out of nowhere.”
“This is terrible,” Freya cried as she plopped on the bed to take Aimili’s hand. “Are we not safe anywhere?” Though she held Aimili’s hand, Padruig noticed that she gazed at Magnus.
“Magnus, have Randulf question the men,” Padruig told him. “Surely, someone saw something.”
“Aye.” With a last glance toward Freya, Magnus left.
Efrika felt the back of Aimili’s head and tsked her disgust. “Cowardly, to attack a woman from behind. Padruig, you must find this foul miscreant at once.”
Padruig held Aimili’s gaze. “I plan to.”
After pouring a cup of wine, Efrika heated it over the fire, then added ingredients from her basket, muttering all the while. When Cai inched closer to sniff, her gaze flashed up as if she were seeing him for the first time, though unsurprisingly, Efrika was not afraid. “These are not for you,” she scolded.
“Cai found me,” Aimili said slowly. “I felt his nose nuzzle my face.”
“Aye,” Padruig said.
“Well, he is indeed due for a treat, but not from my cache of herbs,” Efrika said as she handed Aimili the cup. “Drink up. ‘Twill help the headache.”
“Thank you.” Aimili took a sip and shuddered.
“I know, the taste is terrible, but it works.”
Aimili gamely took another sip.
“Come, Freya,” Efrika said. “Aimili needs to rest. Padruig shall take care of her.”
“Are you sure? Aimili, is there anything else we can do?”
“Nay.” Aimili squeezed the younger girl’s hand. “I shall be fine.”
“Where is Magnus?” Freya asked as she stood. “We need for him to see us to the Ladies’ Tower.”
“Alasdair is waiting below,” Efrika told her, “though I would not be surprised to see Magnus, as well.” Over the top of Freya’s head, Efrika sent Padruig a look that told him she suspected Magnus’s feelings for Freya were not altogether brotherly.
For the first time that eve, Padruig smiled.
After the women filed out, Aimili asked, “What was that about?”
“I fear Magnus has developed a fondness for my sister.”
Aimili’s eyes widened. “And Freya?”
“I am no sure. Mayhap you could discover how she feels.” He studied Aimili as she continued to drink Efrika’s brew, clearly forcing herself to each sip. She looks different, he thought, and it struck him what it was. He had never seen his bride appear so vulnerable. Her hair was in disarray, and her bliaut was stained with dirt, but that was not the real change. The difference was in her eyes. A discomfiting mix of weariness, puzzlement, and fear clouded her usually clear gaze.
He took her free hand. “I shall discover what happened this eve, Aimili.”
“Ah, yes, ’tis part of your duty, is it not?”
Duty seemed very far away at the moment. He stroked a fingertip over her jaw, where a bruise was beginning to form. Her skin was every bit as soft as he’d imagined and, by the saints, he’d imagined such more than he wished to admit.
Aimili’s gaze darkened and he felt her breath hitch.
By God, a man could only take so much, he thought as he bent his head and kissed her, intending to press a light kiss of reassurance to her mouth. He knew at once he’d made a serious error in judgment. Her lips were soft and full, yielding to his and drawing him in for more.
One touch was all it took for his body to rouse into a fierce wanting. Padruig gripped Aimili’s shoulders and deepened the kiss, delving into her mouth, tasting the wine sw
eetened with honey and herbs from Efrika. More, he needed more of her. He stroked his hands up her shoulders and slipped them behind her head to hold her in place.
She moaned. It wasn’t a moan of desire.
Padruig reeled back, appalled at his behavior. Dear Lord, he’d been so caught up in the magic of plundering his bride that he’d forgotten all about her injury.
She gazed at him through wide eyes, her lips parted.
“Aimili, damn, I’m sorry.” Padruig stood and paced across the room.
“What exactly are you sorry about?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He waved a hand. “I lost control. It will not happen again.”
“Padruig, you are my husband.”
“Aye. Which is why I should be protecting you, seeing to your welfare, not attacking you like some sort of beast.” He splashed wine into a cup and shot it down.
“I would hardly call a kiss an attack.”
He cautioned a look at her. Aimili sat on the bed still cradling her cup, a faint smile on her face. “You should rest,” he told her as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He paused at the doorway. “To find the whoreson who hurt you.” And to remove my sorry arse from temptation, he silently added. What in heaven had come over him?
Fool, his inner voice jeered as Padruig walked down the steps. Lust came over you. Lust for your beautiful wife. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, closed his eyes and fisted a hand. I am a stronger man than that, he told himself. I am not governed by my body’s desires. I will not be so ruled.
If only he’d not heard Aimili’s last words. I’d rather you stayed with me, she’d said.
She has no idea what she is asking, he reminded himself as he strode across the bailey toward the gatehouse. Though she may not look like a child, inside she is. Innocent. Sheltered. He had no doubt Aimili had never felt the touch of a man. If the kiss told him naught else, it told him that.
He groaned under his breath. Somehow her inexperience didn’t have the dampening effect he’d expected, but the opposite.
No. He would protect her. He would safeguard her welfare. She was part of the clan now, and a very important part at that. He would not let himself loose on her person, no matter how hard it was. And it, or rather he, was indeed as hard as stone.
