“Dunnae fash yerself,” Bridgette replied as she held out a hand to help Marion. “I dunnae want to get caught any more than ye do. My brother is already angry with me for refusing an offer of marriage. Come”—Bridgette grabbed Marion’s hand—“Let us make haste. But more carefully this time.”
Twelve
Iain strode ahead of Alex into the torchlit courtyard, anxious to see Marion. He’d not intended to train with Alex’s men for so long, but every time he had tried to leave, another man challenged him, and Iain could not let a challenge go unanswered. He knew very well his pride was a sin, and the sin had cost him precious private time with Marion. She’d likely been fretting waiting in her bedchamber as he’d commanded her to do.
A vision of her asleep on the bed, perhaps not dressed anymore, filled his head and made him ache for her, so when he suddenly caught a glimpse of her coming out of the woods with Bridgette, Iain squeezed his eyes shut, certain he was imagining it. Yet, when he opened them again, she was still there.
Iain thought immediately of his conversation with Alex earlier when they had agreed that Bridgette and Marion likely needed minding when together. Iain stopped walking, and Alex came up beside him.
“What is it?” Alex asked, confusion furrowing his brow.
Iain did not remove his gaze from his wife, who had just passed by a torch and looked directly at him. Her eyes went wide, and she had tried to duck back into the shadows, her hand darting out to grasp Bridgette’s.
“I believe Bridgette and Marion found trouble,” Iain said dryly as he pointed toward the two women. Anger started to simmer as he watched his wife try to crouch behind a tree.
“Bridgette MacLean,” Alex roared. “If ye dunnae come out from behind that tree and bring the MacLeod’s wife with ye, I’ll break my vow to our mother and marry ye to the Campbell tomorrow.”
Bridgette immediately popped up, yanking Marion up with her. He’d give it to the lass, he thought grimly, at least she knew when she’d been caught, which was more than he could say for his wife, who was trying to wrench free of Bridgette’s hold. But though he didn’t doubt Marion was strong, apparently Bridgette’s fear of marrying the Campbell gave her superior strength at the moment. She dragged Marion forward and then paused after a few steps, the women whispering fiercely to one another.
“It appears yer wife may be afraid to come to ye,” Alex said, amusement in his voice.
“Aye,” Iain agreed, irritated that Marion was apparently fearful of him. True, he was angry, and there be would consequences for disobeying his orders, but any sort of punishment would never include hurting her. He was a reasonable man, after all, and not quick to anger the way her father had been.
When Marion tried to tug her arm away from Bridgette again and the right shoulder of her gown suddenly slid down her arm to expose her skin, all reason fled Iain and anger flared bright orange. Beside him, Alex cursed under his breath.
Iain stalked toward Marion, his gut clenching as he stopped in front of her and took in her appearance. Blood stained her lips and her exposed right arm was streaked with crimson. Bridgette didn’t look much better.
Iain gripped Marion by the arm, intending to pull her to him, but when she winced, he immediately loosened his hold. “What happened to ye?”
She shot a worried glance at Bridgette, and Iain’s mind leaped to a dozen vile possibilities, all of which ended with him killing whatever man had hurt his wife. A haze descended on him, his vision almost blurring.
He raised his sword. “Point me in the direction of the man who defiled ye. I’ll bring ye his heart, I vow it.” He cupped the back of her neck and drew her toward him, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry, Marion. I’ve failed ye. I’ll nae ask forgiveness.”
Her eyes grew wide, and her hand came to his cheek. “Iain, no. You do not understand.” She bit down on her lip and winced again. “I need to ask your forgiveness. I disobeyed your order, and well, the truth is I do hate to be ordered about,” she said quickly. “But I should have restrained myself and—”
“I compelled her to come with me,” Bridgette blurted, glancing beseechingly from Iain to Alex, who had come to stand by them.
“What do ye mean?” Alex thundered.
Bridgette notched her chin up. “I needed to visit the seer and I did nae want to go alone. On the way back, I fell and she risked her life to save me.”
“That’s not true!” Marion said.
Iain shifted his gaze between the women, his rage receding and amusement rising to the surface. They’d obviously formed a fast and loyal friendship in the few hours they’d known each other. He was glad for Marion that she’d made a friend and gladder still that her appearance was due to trying to save Bridgette and not from harm done to her by another. Yet she put herself in danger by not listening to him, and he’d have to speak with her about that. And think of some sort of punishment. Yet the truth was, he could not imagine punishing Marion. He’d had the same problem with Catriona, and he sometimes feared it was why she’d done as he’d told her not to and swam in that freezing water, in spite of her poor health.
“Of course it’s true!” Bridgette replied, bringing Iain’s attention back to where it should be. Bridgette scooted away from Alex, who looked as if he wanted to throttle her with his pinched mouth and flaring nostrils. “Ye did save me!”
“No, no. I helped you save yourself,” Marion said, her embarrassment obvious in her trying to belittle her courageous act.
Iain smiled behind his hand. Only his wife would be so selfless as to refuse to take credit for rescuing another.
Bridgette looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose that’s true enough. I did do much of the work hanging over the edge as I was, and I had to find the footholds.”
Iain and Alex let out a collective groan that caused both women to look at them. Iain wanted to grab Marion and kiss her soundly, but he could not let her think it was acceptable for her to disobey him.
“I require an explanation,” he said in a hard, stern tone.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, then promptly released it with a hiss. “I know.”
Bridgette cleared her throat. “Iain MacLeod, if ye’re going to be angry at someone ye can direct yer temper at me. I talked yer Sassenach wife into going with me, and I ordered my maid to sit in her bedchamber and claim to be Marion should anyone knock.”
That explained why Rory Mac and Angus had not come to tell Iain that Marion was gone. The men didn’t know. He could hardly fault them, though. Nor could Iain lay complete blame at Bridgette’s feet. Marion should have obeyed him, in spite of her new friend’s compelling words.
His wife let out a small sigh. “Bridgette, that’s really so kind of you to try to—”
Marion gasped as Iain whisked her off her feet. He needed to be alone with her now. Not just to chide her but to make sure she was not hurt.
With one hand under her legs and the other around her back, he met Alex’s gaze. “My wife and I will be upstairs until supper. It seems we have some things to discuss.” Iain could see the smile Alex was fighting, but his friend managed to keep his face blank.
“I ken. I’ll see ye at supper and hopefully yer lovely wife, as well, as I’ve yet to formally meet her.”
Iain nodded but did not bother to present her. There’d be time enough for that, and the need to touch her was making him shake. He turned to stride away just as Alex started talking in a rush of angry words at Bridgette.
Marion gazed up at him with a frown. “That was very rude not to—”
He glared at her, caught between anger for her disobeying him and relief that she really did seem to be safe now. Marion fell silent and dropped her gaze to his chest.
“Where is your bedchamber?” he demanded.
“Bridgette mentioned that it was up the stairs and to the right,” she mumbled. Her small, pitiful voice made him wince with guilt that she was worried, but God’s truth, the woman needed to worry a bit so she’d n
ot repeat what she’d done.
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he came to the top and rounded the corner to where her bedchamber was, Angus and Rory Mac scrambled to a standing position from the spot by her door where they’d been sitting. Both men gaped at Iain.
“How did she get out of the bedchamber?” Rory Mac asked, his brow furrowed. The man looked at the closed door and then back at Iain.
“My crafty wife never went in the bedchamber,” he growled as he set Marion on her feet. “Knock,” he demanded.
Marion’s eyes widened. “But—”
“Knock,” he said more harshly, though he did feel bad about it. She had to understand there were consequences to her actions, and he’d just realized how to best make her see it.
Her shoulders drooped as she stepped to the door and knocked.
“I’ve a stomach malady,” a woman called from within. “Please leave me.”
Beside Iain, Angus hissed, and Marion turned back toward them, her cheeks stained with her embarrassment.
“Ye ken better than te lie,” Angus chided. “And te force a servant te lie, as well.” Angus caught Iain’s eye quickly as if to say, Allow me. Iain nodded, relieved that someone else would prove the point. He was loath to cause Marion any further embarrassment.
Angus placed his hands on her shoulders. “Ye could cost the woman in there her position in this household if the MacLean decides she’s nay longer worthy.”
“Surely, he’d not do that!”
“He could,” Angus replied.
A look of horror crossed Marion’s face, and she slipped from Angus’s hold and started past Iain. He snagged her by the elbow. “Where are ye going?”
“To talk to your friend and beg him not to do such a thing.”
Iain met Angus’s gaze. “Leave us.”
“Likely wise.” Angus chuckled as he walked past them toward the stairs.
Iain expected Rory Mac to follow, but his friend just stood there with a look of amusement on his face.
“Why are ye still here?” Iain growled, his patience slipping away.
Rory Mac’s smile grew to a grin. “I thought ye may need my counsel in speaking to yer wife since ye’ve nae had to do such things in so long.”
“Rory Mac,” Iain warned.
The Scot threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I can see ye nae want my help,” he said. “I’ll just go see how Neil is faring.”
“Where is Neil?” Marion asked.
Rory Mac chuckled. “The healer has told him he must stay abed, which has made him verra angry.”
Marion nodded. “The healer is wise.”
“Aye, but that does nae make it easier for Neil,” Rory Mac replied, then turned and departed.
When the corridor fell silent, Iain faced Marion. “Alex is a reasonable laird and would nae punish a servant for following the command of his sister. But ye did nae ken that. Ye simply consented to what Bridgette proposed.” When Marion opened her mouth to speak, Iain held up a staying hand. Truly, he didn’t want to admonish his wife. He wanted to take her in his arms and bring her pleasure. Yet certain things had to be said for her own good. “Ye disobeyed me.”
Her chin jutted out. “I’m not a dog.”
He frowned. That was the second time she’d mentioned this. Something needed to change, and he was willing to admit it might be the way he was treating her. He was used to giving orders and simply being obeyed. And the truth was, Catriona had done as he’d said, until the very end, and had never questioned him. It had not occurred to him until just now that he was interacting with Marion, who was headstrong and certainly not meek, as he’d always interacted with Catriona. He’d told Marion that a wife must listen, but he would try to listen, too.
He took Marion’s hand in his. “I dunnae think ye are a dog, but I see that I’ve been ordering ye about. I want to explain and see if we can come to an understanding.”
Her eyes widened in clear shock. “You want to come to an understanding with me?”
“Aye,” he said simply.
Marion threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. “Thank you, Iain.”
He ran his hands up the length of his wife’s small back and pressed her close until her body molded to his. Had he known that simply telling his wife he wanted to understand her would please her so—and get her in his arms—he would have told her the day they’d met.
“Why do ye thank me for wanting to understand you?” Really, he thought he knew, but he didn’t want to make assumptions.
Marion pulled back and traced her finger along his chest. His muscles jumped to awareness under her tender ministrations. “My father never tried to understand me. He did not think me worthy enough of understanding, so it means a great deal to me that you are making an effort.” She offered him a sweet smile that made his breath hitch.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to concentrate on what he wanted to say and not how nice she felt pressed against him all womanly and soft. “Ye must understand that as leader of a clan of six hundred men, I kinnae have my wife openly defying me. Why would they think they need to follow my orders if my own wife does nae?”
She quirked her mouth. “I can understand what you mean, but do you never take the counsel of your men if they challenge your orders?”
“They dunnae challenge me.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. “None of them? Ever?”
He started to say no but stopped himself. “My brothers and Rory Mac,” he admitted. “But they never challenge my orders in public. Only in private.”
She grinned. “Then if I ever challenge one of your orders, may I do so in private, as well?”
He liked very much how sweetly she’d asked and had not demanded it. “Aye,” he agreed easily. “But,” he continued, wanting to make sure she understood, “I may nae concur with yer argument, and if that’s the case, ye’ll simply have to accept my choice, as do all my brothers and Rory Mac. I dunnae give orders without great thought, Marion, and today’s order to tell ye to stay in yer bedchamber was for yer safety.”
She inhaled a shaky breath. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
He kissed her on her forehead. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Thank you,” she burst out and circled his waist once more to hug him.
He grinned down at the top of her head. His wife was very affectionate, and he liked it very much, and he’d like it even more when they were alone. With that thought in mind, he unwound her arms, took her hand, and opened the bedchamber door. The maid, who had been sitting doing embroidery, hurried to her feet, her eyes wide. “My lord, I—”
He held up his hand. “I ken ye were commanded to feign being in here. The matter has been settled to my satisfaction, and I dunnae blame ye. Ye may go.”
The woman did not hesitate. She rushed past them, nearly tripping in her haste to get out the door. When the door shut, Marion giggled. “I feel awful for causing her worry,” she said, contradicting her laughter.
“Ye dunnae seem to feel awful.”
“I do,” she said, smothering another laugh. “But when she looked like a fearful child, I could not help but think of how silly I must have looked trying to hide from you in the courtyard.”
Iain chuckled. “Aye, ye did look silly when ye knew I’d seen ye.”
“I was afraid,” she admitted.
“Why?” he asked, turning her toward him and threading his hands into her hair. “Would yer father’s consequences have been great?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes taking on a faraway look.
“Marion, I will never hurt ye.”
She nodded quickly, but her eyes still appeared haunted. He wanted to wipe away those bad memories and replace them with new, happy ones. Hopefully, they could start now. “I want ye in my bed and my arms tonight, but if ye’re too sore from last night or today—”
“I want to be in your bedchamber tonight, Iain,” Marion said in a shy whisper. Iain’s heart jolted as desire over
came him.
He gazed at his beautiful, battered wife. “I suppose I should keep ye near me to keep ye out of trouble.”
She grinned at his words. “I suppose you should.” Her voice was full of contentment, which pleased him mightily. They quickly left her bedchamber, and as he opened the door to his own, she said, “I always knew following my own mind would have benefits someday.”
He started to reply when a throat was cleared behind him. He turned to find a young maid. She curtsied. “My lord, the MacLean bid me see if ye needed anything. He thought ye might be alone and need help bathing yer back,” she said, batting her eyelashes at Iain.
Marion stiffened beside him. He fought the desire to grin. He liked that his wife was jealous. He liked it very much, indeed. It showed she cared for him, though he didn’t care for the thought that she would believe he’d ever be untrue to her. “My wife will bathe my back,” he said gently, so as not to embarrass the girl for simply following Alex’s orders.
Marion plunked her hands on her hips. “You can let all the maids know that I’ll be the only one to ever bathe the MacLeod’s back again.” She glared at him, as if he’d implied otherwise. Then she whipped her gaze back to the stunned maid. “And make sure to tell your laird, as well,” Marion snapped.
The woman’s face went pale. “Yes, my lady.”
Marion offered her a sweet smile. “I’m not angry with you, so please do not be worried. Truly, I’m a nice person. I really don’t even have a temper.”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid said again, giving Marion a dubious look.
Iain’s side ached with the desire to laugh. He cleared his throat. “It seems I cause it in her. She’s verra jealous of me,” he said to the young woman as she backed out the door. He shut it behind her, and when he turned around, Marion was frowning at him.
“Why did you have to tell her that I’m jealous of you?”
He did laugh then as he reached out and pulled Marion against the length of his body. He brushed a bit of her loose hair out of her eyes. “Because ye are. And she’ll forgive jealousy but nae meanness.”
When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) Page 16
