To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3

by Victoria Roberts

  The older woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I am nae dead, Sybella. I will join ye for the noon meal.”

  A giggle almost escaped Sybella when the words left Aunt Iseabail’s mouth. Sybella remembered her own mother scolding her for asking the same question not long ago. “That would be delightful. Alexander hasnae really had a chance to show me much of Glengarry. I hear the gardens are extraordinary. Mayhap ye could escort me after the meal. I would love to see them.”

  Aunt Iseabail donned her day dress and then placed her hand on Sybella’s forearm. “Let us have a bite to eat and then we will take a walk in the garden. I’m verra proud of my flowers.”

  Sybella sat next to Alexander during the midday meal. Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice. “Aunt Iseabail is fine. There was nay need to call for the healer. I was thankful she had nay cuts or bruises, especially on her bare feet.”

  He nodded in response. “Thank ye for seeing to my aunt. I will need to make certain she doesnae wander too far from the castle again.”

  “Dè nì thu?” What will you do? When her husband raised his brow, she quickly lowered her gaze. She didn’t mean to question his authority. The last she wanted to do was upset him further. “Tha mi duilich.” I am sorry.

  “Nephew,” said Aunt Iseabail, “after the meal, I will take your new wife for a walk in the garden. Ye cannae keep her all to yourself, ye know.”

  “I have nay intention of doing so,” he said dryly.

  Sybella started to take a drink from her tankard but hesitated briefly when she heard her husband speak softly to her.

  “Lass, I called after ye, and I know ye heard me. Ye ignored my command and blindly rushed into the forest riding a mount that was unfamiliar to ye. Ye could have been killed.” When she remained silent and lowered her eyes, he quickly added, “Praise the saints. Ye arenae going to shed tears, are ye?”

  She stiffened as though he had struck her, and then she whipped her head around. “It would take more than ye, Alexander MacDonell, to make me cry,” she responded sharply. “I spotted Aunt Iseabail from the path, and by the time I would have pointed her out to ye, she would have been out of sight. Ye do realize that the wolf would’ve attacked her. And I didnae blindly rush into the forest. I have been hunting with Colin since I was a wee bairn, and I am a superior rider.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I will nae offer ye apologies for seeing to the welfare of your aunt.”

  * * *

  Alex’s wife perplexed him. To be honest, Sybella’s behavior had rendered him speechless. Earlier in the stables, the lass had insisted she could handle her mount—and she did. In addition, she had not hesitated to rescue his missing aunt. His wife was quickly becoming a pleasant surprise.

  When he had met the young lass at the waterfall so many years ago, she was headstrong, reckless. But he would be the first to admit that he liked his women with some spirit. And he had a feeling Lady Sybella MacDonell had plenty.

  Holding up his hands in mock defense, he gave her his wooing smile. “I donna want to spar with ye. I only show concern for your safety. I am now your husband and ye are my responsibility.”

  She nodded briefly and took a drink from her tankard.

  Neither one of them spoke for the remainder of the meal. He had an underlying feeling that he had made her angry, but he was only concerned for her welfare. Now that he had actually seen the lass handle the horse, perhaps he could learn to trust her words—in time. Until then, she was under his care and his protection, even if he had to protect her from herself.

  “Aunt Iseabail, I shall accompany ye and my wife to the gardens.”

  “That would be delightful, Nephew. I am sure your bonny new wife would love to have ye in attendance as well.”

  Sybella nodded politely, but a blind fool could have seen the truth in her eyes. “It would be wonderful to have ye accompany us, my laird,” she said with false sincerity.

  “Alex.”

  A flash of humor crossed her face and she raised her brow. “Donna push me.”

  “I wouldnae think of it.”

  Alex escorted the women to the gardens. He often found solace on the walls of the parapet but had not wandered aimlessly along the garden paths for quite a while. He knew Aunt Iseabail prided herself on working in the garden beds, and her efforts were obviously rewarded. Most of the flowers were in full bloom, with red, yellow, and purple petals painting the sides of the garden path.

  A breeze wafted the scent of roses through the air, and Sybella brought her finger to her nose as if to stifle a sneeze.

  “What do ye think?” he asked her.

  “The garden is quite lovely.”

  Aunt Iseabail smiled. “I have always enjoyed it. The flowers on Dòmhnall’s grave are from here. I remember when we were children and my brother used to trample my mother’s garden with his swordplay.” She shook her head. “As we grew older, I think Dòmhnall began to appreciate the beauty.”

  “The flowers for the celebration were verra bonny,” said Sybella.

  “Ye were fortunate most were in bloom. Ye will have to schedule carefully so that the petals are in bloom when your bairn is born.”

  When Sybella’s mouth dropped, Alex could not stay the chuckle that escaped him. “Now ye know ’tis nearly impossible to schedule such an occasion, Aunt.”

  She cast a wicked smile. “That doesnae mean the two of ye cannae be trying in the meantime.”

  Sybella colored fiercely and he gestured to a bench. The two of them sat while Aunt Iseabail pulled weeds from the garden beds.

  “She seems to be doing much better,” said Sybella.

  Alex hunched over, his arms resting on his thighs. “Her mind comes and then it takes its leave with little or nay warning. I think the celebration added excess worry, but now that we are wed, I hope she can rest.” He sat up and gave her a warm smile. “I must thank ye again for seeing to her. She is my responsibility. I donna expect ye—”

  “Donna be ridiculous. We are wed. Your burdens are nay longer your own. Aunt Iseabail is kin.”

  “I thank ye for your words, but I will nae have ye hurt. Ye faced the wolf alone. Had ye waited for me…Ye are also my kin, my wife, and I will nae have ye injured by being so reckless.”

  She closed her eyes. “Alexander, I told ye before that Aunt Iseabail would’ve been injured or worse had I waited for ye. And before ye judge me, I would ask that ye give me a chance. Take me hunting and ye will see. Your concern is misplaced.” Remembering her brother’s words, she quickly added, “Ye need to learn to trust me. As ye said, I am your wife.”

  He suppressed a sigh. “We shall see.”

  “’Tis all I ask.”

  “Since ye are now the lady of the castle, if anything isnae to your liking, let me know. Please make any changes that ye need. The household staff has been instructed to heed your command.”

  Sybella nodded. “I cannae see myself making many changes. Aunt Iseabail has done wonderfully.”

  “Nephew, could ye please come here and pull this dastardly root?” asked Aunt Iseabail, her hands placed on her hips.

  “Pray excuse me.” He rose from the bench and approached his aunt. “And pray tell, where is this dastardly root?”

  She pointed to the menacing plant, and he bent over and tugged at the stem. When he turned his head toward Sybella, she hastily lowered her gaze. He wasn’t blind. He didn’t miss his wife’s obvious examination and approval. For some reason, he was pleased that she had softened somewhat toward him.

  * * *

  Sybella promptly lowered her gaze. She wouldn’t give the rogue the satisfaction of knowing how much she favored his appearance. There was a maddening hint of arrogance about Laird Alexander MacDonell, and once again she found herself drawn to him. She found it somewhat hard to believe that this man was from the same clan that her kin grew up despising. From what she had seen thus far, Alexander’s family was nothing but kind. In fact, the heartfelt tenderness her husband showed toward his aunt war
med Sybella’s heart. Perhaps this marriage would be easier than she had anticipated. But that would make her true purpose much harder to carry out.

  “Be warned. When Aunt Iseabail asks ye to take a walk in the garden, her purpose is to make ye pull weeds,” said Alexander in a jesting tone. He sat back down on the bench and they shared a smile.

  “’Tis perfectly fine with me. I would rather have my hands in the dirt than sit idle.”

  “And yet, that doesnae surprise me.”

  He patted her leg and her skin tingled when he touched her. She cleared her throat in a nervous gesture, and almost as if her husband knew how he affected her, he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. She was by no means blind to his attraction, and his nearness made her senses spin. It was far too easy to get caught up in the way he looked at her.

  As Sybella moistened her dry lips, he quirked his eyebrow questioningly. He reached out and caught her hand in his. It was an odd sensation, but once her fingers touched the warmth of his hand, she felt…safe.

  A devilish look came into his eyes and he slowly lowered his head to kiss her.

  “God’s teeth, Alexander! Are ye two just going to sit there all day, or are ye going to help me pull these overgrown weeds?”

  Sybella brought up her hand to stifle her giggles, and Alexander managed a choking laugh.

  “Your timing is impeccable, Aunt.”

  Eight

  The day had not turned out the way Alex had planned. He’d wanted to gently woo his wife and slowly stir her passion. He had not expected to be disrupted in the middle of a tryst with his wife to hunt for Aunt Iseabail and strike down a wolf with his broadsword. This eve, he was determined not to be interrupted again and held from his purpose.

  Before long, Sybella would be with child and he would have fulfilled his duty to the MacDonell clan. Of course, that was if he could undo the damage of Mary’s outlandish words to Sybella. Nothing killed his ardor more than having a woman with clenched eyes beneath him counting sheep.

  This eve, he had given the lass more than enough time to prepare for him to come to her. Alex opened the adjoining door to Sybella’s bedchamber and gently closed it behind him. One bedside candle remained lit and he almost cursed the darkness. Selfish as it might be, he wanted to see all that the lass had to offer.

  As he approached the bed, he could see his wife’s golden locks tumbled carelessly over her shoulders. Her full, rosy lips were parted in gentle, rhythmic breathing. He brushed his fingers through her hair and softly caressed her cheek. When she let out a little snort and then rolled over onto her side, he could barely contain the chuckle that escaped him.

  A perfect ending to a less than perfect day.

  Not having the heart to wake the sleeping beauty, Alex sought his own bed and tried unsuccessfully to stay the memory of his wife’s luscious flesh. How could he forget the rosy peaks of her breasts as they grew to pebble hardness? He had given every part of her body the attention it deserved—from her taut stomach to her creamy thighs to every fold in between.

  When he realized his body’s normal reaction to his impure thoughts, Alex took his hand to himself, taking care of his own desires lest the lass bolt like a scared rabbit the next time from all of his pent-up frustration. The last thing Alex wanted to do was frighten Sybella from his bed. For now, he would sate his own needs; tomorrow was another day.

  Alex awoke in the morning to blankets that were knotted and pillows that were thrown from the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head, realizing that at times like these, he usually would seek out the skillful Doireann. His leman’s expert touch had cured his urges and satisfied all of his desires. Granted, this was the same lass who had tried to shackle him into marriage, but there had never been any expectations between them. He could merely take his leave from Doireann’s bed—or from his study wall or the stables—and not think twice. Now that he had a wife, it was a little more complicated.

  Out of respect for Sybella, Alex would stay true to his vows. But he knew he was going to have to do a lot more wooing to have his wife trust him enough to willingly let him share her bed. Granted, he could simply wake her up and demand his marital rights, but he was not that kind of man. In any event, this was definitely a first. He’d never had to woo Doireann; she’d freely shared her favors with him—among others. In truth, he wasn’t sure how to woo his new wife, but he had an idea about how to start.

  Alex rose from the bed and rubbed his hand through his hair. He donned his kilt, threw on his tunic and boots, and went to the garden.

  * * *

  Sybella sat up and stretched her arms. For the first time since she could remember, she felt rested. She threw the covers from the bed and momentarily paused.

  Alexander had not come for her.

  She briefly wondered why her husband had not sought her bed the night before. She wasn’t exactly sure how such things worked, but perhaps it was too soon after their initial encounter. When another disturbing idea popped into her mind, she wasn’t sure how she felt.

  What if Alexander had a leman?

  Not that she was by any means an expert on the subject, but she knew from her own clan that some married men kept a harlot on the side. She was fairly sure Angus didn’t have one. Sybella would have to be a fool not to notice how much the man worshipped Mary. If Alexander had one of these women, Sybella prayed that he would have enough sense to keep his leman hidden from sight. Something within Sybella stirred at the thought of sharing him with another woman. She couldn’t help but ponder whether or not Alexander touched his leman as he touched her.

  “Sybella, cease your thoughts. Ye are being ridiculous,” she said aloud to herself. She approached the stand and splashed cool water on her face. When the morning haze cleared, she donned her day dress and slippers. She swung open the door to find her husband standing against the wall.

  “Good morn.” He pulled his arm from behind his back and handed her a bunch of roses tied together with a ribbon.

  Sybella stood momentarily frozen. When she reached out to take the flowers, a prickly thorn pierced her skin. She brought her finger to her lips.

  “Be careful. The roses have thorns on the stems,” he said, pointing to the jagged edges.

  She wasn’t about to tell the man that the thorns were to be removed. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that the flowers were to be cut, not pulled out by the roots. Sybella carefully held the thorny roses out in front of her as clumps of dirt hung from the bottom of the roots. She could barely stay the giggle that wanted to escape her, and she tried desperately not to laugh. After all, Alexander had tried to make her feel special, and the flowers were a thoughtful gesture.

  “The roses are verra bonny. I truly thank ye. Give me but a moment and I will place them in some water.”

  He waited for her outside the door. “Are ye ready to break your fast?”

  “Aye.” Sybella walked out of her bedchamber and closed the door.

  “Did ye sleep well?”

  She nodded. “I actually did.” She was hesitant to ask, but it was only polite. “And ye?”

  “As well as could be expected.”

  They walked to the great hall and took their seats upon the dais. Sybella had just reached to take a bite of oatmeal when Aunt Iseabail stormed into the hall. With reddened cheeks and a fiery look in her eyes, the woman cursed the entire way to her seat. Whipping out a chair, Aunt Iseabail sat down and clenched her teeth.

  Sybella reached out and touched the woman’s arm. “Is everything all right?”

  “Nay, ’tisnae all right.”

  “Tell me what is amiss and mayhap I can assist ye,” Sybella said in a compassionate tone.

  “Nae unless ye can repair the damage to my flowers,” Aunt Iseabail replied with a snappish tone.

  “Pardon?”

  Aunt Iseabail clutched her tankard until her knuckles turned white. “Some daft fool pulled out a large portion of my new roses. They were just starting to
bloom, and instead of cutting them, the idiot pulled out all of the roots. I am afraid they are destroyed.”

  Sybella bit her bottom lip and turned her head slightly toward her husband. Alexander sat as still as a stone statue, keeping his eyes on his trencher.

  “How do ye know it wasnae a deer or a rabbit?” asked Alexander.

  “Nephew, I am nae daft. The animals chomp at them. They donna pull them out clean by the roots.”

  He nodded. “Rest assured, Aunt Iseabail, if I find the miscreant, he shall be punished.”

  “I should hope so, Alexander. Ye know how much I favor the garden.”

  Sybella looked at her husband and his eyes widened. “Nae a word,” he said under his breath.

  Sybella managed a reply through stiff lips. “I value my life.”

  He chuckled in response.

  * * *

  Alex didn’t try to speak with Sybella until he was sure he was clear of Aunt Iseabail’s ire.

  “Ye said ye like to hunt.”

  She nodded and swallowed what was left of her oatmeal. “Aye, verra much. If ye havenae figured it out yet, my laird, I love to be out in the fresh air.”

  “’Tisnae that difficult to discern. After the meal we will test your skill with a bow.”

  She lifted her brow and gave him a mischievous grin. “Why, Alexander? Ye donna trust me to hunt beside ye?”

  “Before I give ye a bow and a verra sharp arrow, I want to be sure ye know how to use them. I am nae willing to take a chance alone with ye in the woods lest ye hit something of most importance.” He glanced down at his manhood and then gave her a wry grin. For some reason, he enjoyed jesting with her.

  Sybella paused, clearly weighing her response. “Donna worry, my laird. ’Tisnae that big of a target.”

  Alex choked on his wine, and his wife abruptly changed the subject to the matter at hand. “There is nay need to give me a bow. I brought my own.”

  “Of course ye did. I wouldnae want to give ye one which wasnae familiar to ye. That would be a complete disadvantage. Why donna ye fetch your bow and I will meet ye behind the stables?”