Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens

by Suzan Tisdale

  Then he’d come to her a week ago and said he was breaking the promise he had made to her that winter. He no longer wished to marry her.

  Just like that, her hopes and dreams of building a life with him were shattered. Gone in the blink of an eye and without an explanation. At least not one that made any sense.

  She’d had her fill of his brooding, his silence, and his poor attitude. “I refuse to shed another tear over this man,” she blurted out.

  Quickly, she jumped to her feet, grabbed her gown from the floor and slipped into it. “Ye only thought ye regretted yer words last night, Ian Mackintosh. But ye’ve yet to feel true regret. Ye do no’ yet ken the meanin’ of the word.”

  * * *

  His only focus was to get to the loch. Hopefully, if there was a good, kind God, He’d see His way to helping him drown.

  The moment his bare feet sank in the mud He regretted not grabbing his boots on his mad dash out of his room. Figuring it didn’t matter, he ignored the cold muck between his toes and continued his fast forward progress toward the loch. He also ignored the curious stares of his clansmen as well as the questions they tossed his way.

  Thundering across the courtyard, through the open gate, and down the hill, he finally reached his destination. Thankfully, no one was about. He pulled his plaid away, letting it fall to the grass, and walked straight into the frigid water. What in the bloody hell have I done? He cursed inwardly as he dove under the water. He held his breath until his lungs felt close to bursting. With a swift kick, he tore through the water, up and out, gasping for air. Ye can no’ even drown yerself, ye coward.

  The cold water did little to douse the multitude of feelings coursing through his veins or the thoughts crashing around in his mind. Pulling in a big breath, he dove under the water and swam away from the grassy bank. His muscles ached with a vengeance, as did his heart.

  He loved Rose. Loved her deeply. Aye, the realization had caught him completely off guard all those months ago. He had tried to fight the new and perplexing feelings, the feelings he didn’t understand at the time. But his resolve to never end up like his father and brothers — completely devoted to and besotted with their wives — gave way to his weak heart.

  He broke through the surface once again and floated on his back. Closing his eyes against the bright afternoon sun, he thought back on the last year of his life.

  Rose was different from other women he knew. As fierce as a cat-o-mountain and possessing an inner strength that bewildered him, his mind was unable to battle against his heart, and before he comprehended what was happening, he was in love.

  He could remember the exact moment he realized he was doomed. ’Twas during the fire at the McLaren keep, when large flames tore through the roof, piercing the night sky like fingers reaching out from the bowels of hell. He’d lost sight of her, of this beautiful woman who somehow managed to perturb him and impress him at the same time.

  During that long moment when he thought he’d lost her to the fire, he was quite certain his heart had been torn from his chest. Never in his life had he experienced such fear, such gut-wrenching anguish. Certain he’d lost the one person he loved more than anyone else in this world, the pain nearly brought him to his knees.

  One moment he was convinced he’d lost her, so consumed with grief he could not move, but in the next, when he saw her dashing out of the keep, alive and well, the relief and utter joy was just as intense as the grief he’d felt a heartbeat earlier.

  ’Twas his undoing.

  After that tiny moment in time, he’d never been able to deny his love for her.

  Weeks later, after he confessed his feelings to her, he had proposed and, much to his relief, she had accepted.

  They made plans to marry as soon as they returned to his home, to Mackintosh lands.

  But when they returned and he watched Frederick’s agony, his suffering, his worry that he’d lose Aggie as she lay in bed, poisoned, giving birth to a babe far too early, fear began to consume Ian. He could not fathom ever having to watch his Rose suffer as Aggie had. Nay, he did not worry she’d be poisoned. But other things, far less sinister, could take her from him. He could not bear the thought. Could not imagine having to live his life without her.

  Aggie and the babe had survived and both were now quite hale and hearty. Little Ada, just as beautiful as her mum, was flourishing and it seemed things were looking up for his brother and new family. ’Twas a miracle that either had lived and Frederick celebrated that fact on a daily basis.

  Ian hadn’t wanted to hurt Rose, truly he hadn’t. But ’twas better he break her heart now, than end up disappointing her later.

  His heart began to feel heavy again. Taking another deep breath, he rolled over and dove down to the bottom of the loch. There has to be a way out of this marriage, he thought before planting his feet on the rocky bottom and shooting back up to the surface.

  As he broke through, he caught sight of someone standing on the bank. Wiping the water from his eyes, he was able to see who it was.

  Rose.

  And she looked mad enough to kill.

  * * *

  God’s teeth he was handsome!

  It had not taken long to discover Ian had gone to the loch. As soon as she stepped into the gathering room, people were all too happy to point her in the right direction. Now she stood staring at him, all braw muscle and power. The sight of his bare bottom was enough to make her want to swoon. Or take a nibble out of each crescent moon shaped buttock that bounced in the water.

  His wet blonde locks clung to his neck and shoulders: unparalleled muscular shoulders that looked as though they’d been carved from granite. Hard, sinewy, powerful shoulders, and a chest she wanted very much to feel pressed hard against her own.

  Aye, he was a braw warrior, as beautiful as he was stupid.

  Pushing away her physical desire, she glared at him. Determined to have both a sensible answer as to why he’d broken the troth, as well as the last word, she called out. “I want to have a word with ye, Ian Mackintosh.”

  He looked terrified. Good, she thought to herself. Ye should be.

  If she thought he’d swim right up to her and beg forgiveness, she’d have a long wait.

  She could well imagine him being stubborn enough to refuse to get out of the water. Stubborn enough to wait until the loch froze over, and then he’d probably still remain.

  “Are ye afraid to talk to me?” she asked.

  “I be naked,” he shouted back.

  Resting her fingertips on her hips, she shook her head. “We be married now, Ian. I believe it be perfectly acceptable fer me to see you naked.” Though she might not be able to hang on to her anger or frustration, especially if he got close enough for her to reach out and touch him. Mayhap ’twas safer for him to remain where he was.

  “Why did ye break our troth?” she asked. Her tone was demanding, insistent.

  “I told ye why.”

  She took in a deep breath, hoping it would quash some of her ire. It didn’t. “Nay, ye have no’ told me why. All ye said was ye could no’ marry me. Ye never bothered with the why of it. I demand to ken why.”

  She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, could see clearly that he was looking for either the courage to speak or the words.

  “Why?” she asked once again, but not with as much anger in her tone.

  “Ye deserve better than me, Rose,” he told her.

  “Of course I do, ye eejit! But for reasons I can no’ explain, I do no’ want better.”

  He began to slowly swim back to the bank. He stood upright, the water barely covering his nether regions. “I am goin’ to ask our marriage be set aside, Rose. ’Tis fer yer own good.”

  If he’d been close enough to strangle, she would have. Aye, she knew he was bigger and stronger than she, but she still would have liked the opportunity to try. All the hurt she thought she’d set aside came back in one painful beat of her heart.

  “Do ye remember nothin’ from las
t night?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  He needn’t answer. From his expression, he could not remember a thing that had transpired. ’Twas probably a good thing for her that he didn’t. For if he did, he’d probably be so angry with her he would be tempted to strangle the life right out of her.

  “Ye said ye loved me, Ian. Ye said ye regretted breaking our troth. Ye begged fer a second chance. Begged fer me fergiveness.” She choked back tears, refusing to shed them lest he see how hurt she truly was. “Ye begged me to marry ye that verra moment. Insisted upon it, fer ye could no’ bear to live another minute without me by yer side. Ye would no’ quit yer shoutin’ until Frederick woke yer father to marry us.”

  That much was true. It had happened just as she described. However, she left out the part where he passed out before his father arrived. She had helped Frederick pour his drunken carcass into his bed. But when she had tried to leave, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down next to him. “Gradh mo Chroi,” he had whispered into her ear. Love of me heart, do no’ leave me.

  How many times had her mother told her that a man sometimes needed the aid of strong drink before he could say what was truly in his heart? Rose hadn’t believed it until last night. Now she was left feeling very much the fool.

  “I liked ye better when ye were in yer cups. At least then ye spoke what ye really felt.”

  She had allowed him to make a fool out of her, something she had sworn she would not allow the first time she’d ever met him. That seemed a lifetime ago, that moment when she first saw the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Adonis. Regret, frustration and humiliation took over now. Scooping up his plaid, she left him in the loch and stomped away.

  “Rose!” Ian called out. “Bring back me plaid!”

  “Ye can go to hell, Ian Mackintosh! And ye can go there as naked as the day ye were born!”

  * * *

  He couldn’t rightly blame her for being angry with him. However he could and did blame her for leaving him naked in the frigid loch. “Rose!” he called out again. “Bring back me plaid. Now!”

  Too hurt and angry, she ignored him and continued back to the keep.

  “How dare she?” he ground out as he pounded his fists into the water.

  Anger bubbled upward from his stomach. Could she not see he was doing her a favor by putting her aside? ’Twas the merciful thing to do, considering he had nothing to offer her as a husband. She was far too stubborn for her own good. He knew he’d hurt her, but at the moment, his male pride got in the way of any sort of common sense.

  If she hoped to humiliate him by leaving him in the loch without so much as a leaf to cover himself with, she was sorely mistaken. Not once in his entire life had he even been tempted to hit a woman. But now? He was sorely tempted to find her and take her over his knee.

  “Bloody hell,” he growled out. A moment later, he was out of the water and heading back to the keep.

  * * *

  Every pebble, every mud puddle, and every crude remark made by his clansmen as he exploded through the courtyard and into the keep only fueled his already burning anger. An older woman was spreading fresh rushes on the gathering room floor when he stormed in. “Och, Ian!” she giggled. “Ye seem to have fergotten to cover yerself, lad!”

  His face was already purple with rage, so she did not notice how it burned with humiliation.

  “I do no’ mind though!” she said with a smile. “But ye might want to cover yerself fer the sake of the children.” Tugging a small drying cloth from her belt, she tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand and used it to cover himself.

  “Where. Is. Rose?” His words were clipped, heated.

  “I believe she went above stairs, lad.”

  Ignoring the whistles and comments as they pertained to his bare arse, he took the stairs two at a time. He went first to her room, threw open the door, but ’twas empty.

  He spun around to head back to his room, when he saw her at the end of the hall. Her eyes widened in surprise first, before he caught a fleeting glimpse at her fear.

  “Woman!” he shouted.

  With nowhere to run, she turned around and went back into his chamber. He was at the door before she could bar it. Pushing through, out of breath and furious, he stood in the doorway and glowered at her. “Did ye find it amusin’ to leave me in the loch without so much as a leaf to cover me nakedness?”

  Slowly, she backed away, looking more fearful as the moments passed.

  “I asked ye a question,” he said as he took a step forward.

  She cleared her throat before answering. “’Tis no more than ye deserved, ye pigheaded lout!”

  He quirked a brow at her insult. “Just because ye be me wife does no’ mean ye can do as ye please. It does no’ give ye the right to leave me naked, to force me to walk all through the keep without a stitch of clothing. It also does no’ allow ye to insult me.”

  Even if he had not spoken a word, she would have been able to tell just how angry he was. His eyes pinned her in place, the vein on the side of his neck pulsed and throbbed. He was standing over her now, his hands clenched into fists at his side. At the moment, she was unable to determine if he planned on hitting her. Believing they were married, he might just believe ’twas his right to do so.

  Mustering courage, she pushed her fear aside, fully prepared to admit they were not.

  “As me wife, Rose McLaren, ye shall show me the respect I deserve as yer husband. Do no’ ever tempt me patience like this again, or else I’ll give way to me anger and give ye the spankin’ I be certain ye deserve.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ye would no’ dare!”

  “Because we be newly married, I will nay give in to the temptation to do just that. But mark me word, ye’ll no’ be so lucky next time.”

  “Next time?” she scoffed at the idea. “I thought ye were setting me aside? I thought ye wanted out of this marriage?”

  Her questions stopped him dead in his tracks. ’Twas as if he had forgotten what he’d said earlier. “I fear the beatin’ Frederick gave ye last night did more damage than I previously thought,” she told him. “One minute ye can no’ stand the sight of me and want to cast me aside, the next ye speak as if ye think we’ll be married a good long while.”

  He turned away from her, clenching and unclenching his hands. He had no desire to admit she had a valid point. He’d been so furious that he had forgotten he wanted to end the marriage.

  * * *

  “I am no good fer ye, Rose,” he told her pointedly. “I can no’ give ye the things a woman wants, like beautiful dresses, fancy slippers and baubles. Hell, I can no’ even give ye a decent home.”

  She stared at him in stunned silence. So that was what all this was about? She had never been more thoroughly convinced he was an idiot.

  “Ye deserve far better than me.”

  He was an exasperating man. “Of course I do!” she replied. “Every one kens that.”

  He had no good response. Instead, he stood next to the cold hearth with his head hanging low.

  “So ye decided to break our troth, to set me aside, because ye can no’ give me things I never asked fer?” she demanded with a shake of her head. “Ye be just as addled as Frederick said ye were. Ye’re also quite selfish. And a coward.”

  His head shot up so rapidly she was surprised he didn’t snap his neck.

  “Aye, I said it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Instead of takin’ it as a challenge, ye surrendered. Instead of doin’ what most men do — work verra hard to make a happy and safe home fer their wives, work hard to give them what they can — ye took the coward’s way out by surrenderin’.” She shook her head in disgust. “Nay, ye be no’ the man I thought ye were, and all the things I heard about ye must be lies.”

  “What things?” he dared to ask.

  She gave him a casual shrug of her shoulders. “That ye have stared into the face of death and no’ even flinched. That ye be a brave and powerful warrior who never b
acks down from a fight or a challenge.”

  She was poking at his male pride and his ire began to show. “Those things are all true.”

  She shrugged her shoulders again. “I’ve also heard ye be a fine lover, that ye can please a woman until her toes curl and her eyes cross. But I fear that is probably no’ true either. And I fear we’ll never find out, since ye’re settin’ me aside.”

  The space between them disappeared in two long strides. He leaned down to look her directly in the eye. “Believe me when I say that if I were to take ye to me bed, ye’d be more than just pleased. Ye’d be thoroughly and most assuredly loved until ye could no’ walk.”

  With a raised brow, she challenged him. “Prove it.”

  * * *

  Like any good warrior, he met her challenge the only way he knew how: head on. In the span of three fluttering heartbeats, Ian had his arms wrapped around her waist. Without permission or warning, he pressed his lips to hers.

  He took soft and tender possession of lips he’d kissed before, but not with the fervor and intensity of this moment. Languid. Slow. Treasuring every ragged breath she was trying so desperately to conceal. He reveled in her soft moans of pleasure.

  Surrender was inevitable.

  Whether he surrendered to her or she to him, ’twas not important. What was important was that he had decided he would never set her aside, would never let her go. He was going to make her his, for now and forever. She was his wife, and soon they would consummate their marriage, sealing their fate, their destiny to one another for all eternity.

  The kiss left her breathless, with legs as sturdy as hot honey. Every square inch of her felt warm with thrilling anticipation. And he’d only begun to kiss her.

  His hands spanned her dainty waist before he began to gently caress her back. She swore she could feel how hot his fingertips were, even through her chemise and gown. Shivers of delight trailed up and down her spine, spread to her stomach, her chest.