by Mary Wine
But he kept her colors.
She turned at the top of the stairs and looked back at him. She lifted her hand for her arisaid. Bhaic shook his head.
The distrust stung.
Oh, aye. “Unconditional” was the right word.
She honestly doubted she could manage it.
Which left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Trust. Such a small word for so large an idea.
* * *
She was starving.
When the cook rang the supper bells, Ailis wasn’t sure she wanted to stay awake long enough to eat. But the sight of her bed didn’t look inviting, so she went down to the hall.
At the first whiff of food, her belly rumbled.
Her mouth actually started watering.
She was shaking as she climbed the stairs to the high ground and sat down. The staff was putting the supper out, the aromas driving her nearly insane. Her belly was so empty it hurt. Waiting for Shamus seemed like a torment. Time moved at a snail’s pace as she grasped handfuls of her skirt to keep from grabbing at the food before he blessed the meal.
“Now there is a fine sight,” Shamus remarked as he gained the high ground. He sent her a wink before settling down.
Bhaic followed with Marcus. Below them, the retainers were moving the benches around, filling the hall with laughter and jesting.
Her belly rumbled again. But the meal began, granting her relief from one of her torments. Her appetite might have been raging, but it was soon satisfied. She wanted to eat more, but her insides felt as though they were near bursting.
A moment later, her eyelids felt too heavy to hold up. The meal was only half over, but she feared she was going to end up snoring on the tabletop if she didn’t get up. Bhaic raised an eyebrow when she started to move, but nodded and looked back at his father, who was in the middle of telling some tale from his youth.
Her own father would be doing something similar.
Finley noticed her from where he was eating at the bottom of the high ground. He reached for a round of bread. He tore it open and stuffed a thick slice of meat inside it before sliding his bench back.
“I’m going straight up. I promise,” she said.
He’d stopped halfway off the bench. “A promise, is it?”
Ailis nodded. Finley considered her for a moment before he settled back down. “Straight up then, and I’ll be looking in on ye when I come up. I’ll knock, mind ye.”
It was a small thing, but she was discovering that trust was something very necessary. Bhaic didn’t trust her.
The knowledge hurt.
* * *
She started to pull the pins from her hair, setting them carefully on the small table next to her mirror. The chamber was neat and ready, showing that everyone was as unsure of her place as she was.
“Why are ye here, Ailis?”
Her comb went clattering to the floor. She was off the stool, stumbling back because of how deeply she’d been in her thoughts. Bhaic reached out and caught a handful of her skirt to steady her.
“Ye do nae sleep here.” His tone was solid, his expression tight. “Ye know where ye sleep.”
“Why?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do ye sleep in me chamber?”
She nodded. “Ye do nae trust me no’ to wear me arisaid, so why would ye trust me beside ye at night.”
He muttered something under his breath. “I took yer arisaid because I can nae stand the thought of ye in peril.” He offered her his hand.
She stared at it for a long moment, earning a soft chuckle from him.
“I am no’ the only one learning to trust, lass.”
“Ye give up much less than I do.” She probably shouldn’t have spoken. Shouldn’t have let him see how exposed she felt.
“Aye. But I can nae be changing the way the world works. Ye are here.” He reached a little closer, still offering his hand.
“Aye, and ye’ve had me today. I’m tired.”
He dropped his hand and made a soft sound. “Ye think all I crave from ye is the release I gain from coupling with ye?” He closed the distance between them and scooped her off her feet.
“Put me down.”
He’d already carried her out of the room by the time she finished protesting. The flight of stairs between their chambers passed in a flash, before he was angling her through his doorway and kicking the door shut with his foot.
“Now I will,” he said. He set her on her feet but stood in front of the closed door.
“What do ye think ye’re proving?” she asked.
“That ye are more than a duty.”
His words caught her off guard. He moved closer and cupped her shoulder, turning her around. “This is the only place I can be meself, Ailis. Something I think ye know a little about from being yer father’s only daughter.”
“Aye, I do.”
He was so solid behind her.
Her attention settled on something. She blinked and peered closer. Sitting on the table was her arisaid, folded neatly but not hidden away. Most unions, such as hers and Bhaic’s, would have allowed her to continue to wear her colors, while their children wore his.
“Marcus advised me to burn it,” he said.
She snorted.
Bhaic smoothed his hands over her shoulders. “It’s his way of protecting ye. Harsh, aye, but ye would no’ make the mistake of riding out in the predawn light with it again. Marcus will always take the method that allows no opportunities to catch him unawares.”
“I suppose there is logic to that way of thinking,” she conceded. “Why didn’t ye take his advice?”
“Ye’re right when ye point out I am nae expected to give up so much of meself in this union. Burning yer father’s colors seemed more like stripping ye of yer identity. There may be times ye’ll want to wear them. Inside.”
He stressed the last word, gaining a soft sound of amusement from her.
“Since ye were willing to give Finley yer word, perhaps ye can ease me mind as well,” he said.
“I’m no’ foolish,” she said. “Even if fate seems to be having a merry time at me expense.”
“Aye, she has been making the pair of us dance to her tune sure enough. I’m no’ sure any other couple has had more trouble consummating a wedding.”
The chamber echoed with the soft sound of their amusement. It was balm for her wounds, soothing the hurt and offering the companionship she’d felt so deprived of.
But from her husband?
Was such a thing possible?
Men and women were simply so different.
Her hair was sagging, since half the pins were removed. She reached back to finish the job, but Bhaic brushed her hand aside and began searching out the remaining pins.
“Well, we did manage it…after all.” The words were past her lips before she realized what she was discussing so openly.
“Aye.”
Her hair fell down her back. He threaded his fingers through it, leaning down and inhaling its scent. His tone was husky and possessive, but she liked it. He kissed her nape, and a shiver went down her back.
“Is it so wrong of me to want ye to settle in at me side?” He turned her slowly but kept her close.
“I suppose I never thought ye’d care to have me so close.”
He lifted her chin, their gazes locking. “I know I nearly went mad while ye were locked in the grip of that fever.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes flashing with hard purpose. “Ye’re mine, Ailis Robertson, and I plan to keep ye close at hand.”
He didn’t give her time to respond. He tilted his head and pressed his lips down on hers. She rose on her toes to kiss him back. In his embrace, there wasn’t a boundary between them.
There was only
the need to be joined completely.
He was more accomplished at disrobing her than she wanted to dwell on.
“The number is no’ that high,” he said.
She stepped back, feeling as if he’d read her mind.
Bhaic chuckled as he reached out to pull the lace on the front of her bodice free from the last two eyelets. “But I do admit to enjoying more than a quick toss of the skirts against the wall.”
Her eyes widened. “How…never mind.” An image burst into her head, dispelling all innocence.
Bhaic laughed. “Yer father deserves more credit than I’d ever have thought. How did he control his men so completely that ye never saw a couple in the passageway after sundown?”
“Well…” She was moving away from him, slowly retreating from the intimate nature of the conversation. Her bodice fell down her arms and ended up abandoned on the floor. “I suppose…me brother Duncan is more like Marcus than I realized. His men were forever with me.”
Keeping her innocent, so she’d be useful.
Bhaic reached for the tie holding her skirt closed. She slapped his hand away. It was a light blow, but the sound echoed in the quiet chamber. His expression tightened.
“I think I’ve had enough of being groomed…” Her tone had turned husky, the confidence she’d felt during the afternoon at the stable returning in a rush. She let it flood her.
“In fact…” She forced herself to move toward him. Surprise flickered in his eyes as his lips curved. “I’m so very tired of everyone deciding what is best for me.”
He nodded as she reached for his belt and very boldly worked the buckle until she was able to let it fall to the floor.
“I’m tired of being…settled in…” She pulled the edges of his plaid free of the brooch that held it over his shoulder. “Tired of being watched…”
She found the second belt holding his kilt around his lean waist and opened the buckle. The wool slipped easily down his body, leaving only the soft linen of his shirt. His member was standing up, pushing the fabric away from his groin.
“Really tired of being innocent.”
She reached beneath the tail of the shirt and closed her fingers around his length. He sucked in a breath, hissing through his teeth. She was mesmerized by the way his jaw tightened. Against her palm, his member was hot, and covered in satin-smooth skin. She drew her hand up from the base to the tip and smiled at the groan that escaped his lips.
“It will be me pleasure to help ye become a woman who gives as much as she receives,” he said.
He reached inside her open chemise, cupping one breast. It was her turn to gasp, sensation swirling through her. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, the sensitive tip drawing tight beneath his touch.
“And I’m going to enjoy having ye in me bed…”
He popped the lace on her skirt and pushed it down and over her hips. She jumped back, ending up in nothing but her chemise and stockings.
“Bare yerself for me, Ailis…”
He was working the buttons on his cuffs. She was still backing up, grasping for the control that had filled her with such boldness. But she realized it was a struggle between them, and it always would be. It was in both of their natures.
So…she’d just fight fire with fire.
She pulled her chemise over her head. Her heart pounded, warming her so the night air felt good against her skin. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her, taking a long time to study her.
“Ye’re beautiful.” He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head.
She set her teeth into her lower lip as she let her gaze slip down his body. He had a light coating of dark hair across his chest that tapered to his belly. His member was thick and long. She really hadn’t realized how large it was.
He was closing the distance between them, and the fine hairs on her skin were rising up as his body heat teased them. Moments became tiny eternities, time slowing down to allow her to be cognizant of every little detail.
He touched her forearms first. Just his fingertips, gliding up the outside of her arms, to her elbows and on up until he was sliding his hands across her shoulders.
She reached for him, completing the moment. She was trembling and fighting for breath as she threaded her fingers through his chest hair.
“I do nae deserve the fact that ye waited for me…while I did nae keep meself to the same standard…” His tone was hard, edged with possessiveness as he gathered up her hair in one hand and stepped up to bring their bodies into full contact. “But I’d be a liar if I did nae admit how much I enjoy knowing ye are mine and mine alone.”
The kiss he pressed against her mouth swamped her thoughts. It was full of hunger, and she matched it with her own appetite. She was twisting in his embrace, needing more contact between them. He held her captive to his will, kissing her hard and long before he scooped her up and took her to his bed.
They rolled across its huge surface, and he flattened her beneath his body. She let out a cry as she opened her thighs to cradle his hips. It seemed the most natural position, and another sound of enjoyment hit the canopy above their heads as he lowered himself onto her, the head of his member slipping between the wet folds of her cleft.
“Sweet Christ,” he groaned as he pushed deep inside her. “I truly…meant to…let ye rest…”
“Later,” she said, lifting to take his next thrust and listening with surprise at the sound that came out of her.
Breathless.
Carnal.
She didn’t care. All that mattered was working in time with his rhythm. Rising to meet each downward plunge. Taking his member as deep as she could, all the while being pushed further and further into a churning storm of sensation.
She was twisting, straining toward the end. Craving it, and at the same time, wanting to enjoy the journey. But self-discipline was completely beyond her grasp. There was only the current and its grip. It pulled her along with it, into the center of the storm, pleasure exploding through her and pulling every muscle she had tight enough to break. She cried out.
Or maybe it was Bhaic.
In truth, it seemed as though they were a single being.
Both strained toward each other; both tried to grip the pulsing heart of life. It dropped them back into reality with a jolt, leaving them listening to their own harsh breathing.
* * *
Someone was next to her.
Ailis opened her eyes and stiffened, sitting up. The room was dark, the hearth embers putting out only a tiny red glow.
“Naught is amiss, lass.”
She jumped and heard Bhaic chuckle. He reached up and stroked her arm before rising from the bedding and closing his arms around her.
“Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t wait for her to comply, gathering her close, pulling the bedding around them as he settled her against his body.
She didn’t know what to think of it, but his scent soothed something inside her. Awakening a memory of him being beside her, holding her. Honestly, she didn’t need to think.
* * *
“Still in bed, little brother?”
Ailis squealed, jumping as Marcus’s voice boomed in the early morning. Bhaic snarled and flipped over, coming out of the bedding to shield her. It wasn’t necessary. Marcus was in the outer doorway, his back to them.
“Ye need a wife!” Bhaic shouted before the door shut.
“A demanding one,” Ailis added. “To slow him down a bit.”
Bhaic looked toward her, but his gaze settled on her bare shoulders.
“Ye make a fetching sight.”
He made a soft sound before he grabbed a shirt and put it on. The morning sun was streaming through the windows, shaming them both with how long they’d slept. Ailis crawled out of the bedding,
her body stiff.
She scooped up her chemise, but froze when she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. Across her shoulder was a dark, jagged line, impossible to miss. She started to turn, slowly, until she was looking over her shoulder at her reflection. The path the bullet had traveled across her back was marked with a half-healed line an inch wide in places. Her skin was sewn together, the edges uneven and red.
“It will look better in time, lass.” Bhaic moved toward her and looked at the healing wound. “There was so much dirt in it from the river. Little wonder ye were taken with fever for so long.”
She was fortunate.
She tried to focus on that as she put on her chemise, but all she could see was the jagged scar.
Bhaic cupped her chin, raising her face so their eyes met. “Ye’re strong. That’s what that scar says about ye. The healer had ye given last rites.”
“I didn’t realize…”
He slid an arm around her when she tried to step away. “Did nae realize how close ye came to leaving this world?” He locked her against him, keeping their gazes fused. “I recall every last moment of it. I’ve never spent so much time on me knees.”
“Ye prayed…for me?”
There was a flash of something in his eyes that touched off a storm of emotions inside her.
“I treasure ye, Ailis.”
No one, outside her family, had ever treasured her. He pressed a hard kiss against her lips.
“And I have no idea what it means, only that fate seems to think ye and I belong together. So perhaps we should try doing as we’re being directed.” He released her and walked back to where he’d been pleating his kilt.
“Ye mean kicked in the tail until we fall into line.”
He looked up from his pleating and shot her a wicked grin. “Into bed, ye mean.”
Considering she’d spent the night in his bed, she shouldn’t have blushed. But she did, turning away to fumble with her skirt. He buckled his kilt and captured her while she was busy trying to avoid his gaze.
“I’m beginning to see why the French lock new bridal couples into a chamber for a month with all the honey mead they can drink.” He kissed her soundly until she melted and kissed him back.
