“Aunt Leona and Uncle Alec will be back before ye ken it. We’ll visit often, I promise.”
The babe quieted as she rocked him gently. God’s teeth, that smile! ’Twas enough to make him daft with need and desire.
“I can no’ wait to see ye with a babe of yer own,” Rose told her. “Ye’ll be a verra good mum.”
Taking note that her husband was standing at the entrance, impatiently tapping his toe, Leona handed the babe to his mother. “Ye take good care of yer mum and da,” she whispered against the crown of the babe’s head.
Swiping away tears, she steeled her resolve. “Ian, I shall be ferever in yer debt.”
Good lord, this was going to take ferever!
Another half hour to say goodbye to Brogan, Rodrick and Angrabraid before they were finally able to leave. At this rate, they would not be home for a week.
Leona felt half dead. Every muscle in her body ached, including the very tender one betwixt her legs. Alec had loved her for hours last night. ’Twas a wonder she could sit a horse at all.
Kyth rode to her right, Gylys to her left. Her husband was ahead, while Dougall brought up the rear. Surrounded by men, even if one was her husband, offered little in the way of comfort. Unless, of course, they were set upon by thieves or murderers. But as for companionship or someone to talk to, to answer the multitude of questions bouncing around in her skull, they were as useful as the teats on a boar.
Her husband was — for reasons he didn’t explain — hell-bent on returning to the keep. The daydreamer in her wanted to believe he was eager to return home so he could introduce her to his clan, so proud he was of his choice in a bride. It also wanted her to believe his clan would welcome her with open arms, glad and thankful their laird had chosen her above all others.
Of course she knew there were no ‘others’. She was the only one brave enough – or insane enough – to volunteer for the position of Alec Bowie’s wife. She wouldn’t know for certain which for at least another month or two, she reckoned.
Pounding across the land after all she had shared with her husband last night was not an easy feat. There had been a few times already where she came close to falling asleep in her saddle. But just as she would nod off, a shooting spark of pain would twist in her back and shoot down to her knees and betimes, to her toes.
Mayhap it was a good idea to hurry to the Bowie keep. Before she fell from her horse and broke her neck.
’Twas very late in the afternoon as Kyth and Gylys watched their mistress doze off once again. They were fully prepared to catch her should she begin to list to either side of her saddle. Neither of them could understand why Alec was in such a hurry to return home, but ’twas not their place to question their lord. They’d let Dougall do that. And he did.
Their friend and fellow warrior went around them to speak with Alec. They watched with great interest at what played out before them.
“Alec,” Dougall said as he glanced at the horizon.
“What do ye need?”
“How fares yer wife?”
“Well, I suppose. Why do ye ask?”
“Mayhap ye should turn around and see fer yerself why I ask.”
Alec slowed his horse down a bit and twisted in his saddle. His brow drew into a hard line, his lips pursed together. He had just taken in a deep breath to call out to Leona, to inquire why she was asleep in her saddle, when Dougall stopped him with a hand to his forearm.
“Wheest!” Dougall whispered harshly.
Alec gave him a look of warning.
Dougall rolled his eyes. “The lass is in a good deal of pain, Alec. Mayhap we should no press so hard.”
“What do ye mean she is in pain?”
“Ye’ve never bed a virgin, have ye?” Dougall asked, looking ashamed by his laird.
“No’ that it is any of yer business, but nay, I have no’.”
Dougall let his head drop as he shook it. “I can no believe I have to explain this to ye.”
“Explain what?” Alec asked as he tried to keep an eye on his wife.
Dougall looked thoroughly disgusted. “Alec, when a woman loses her maidenhead, it can be quite painful. Not only durin’ the act, but fer hours if no’ days after. I can no’ believe ye did no’ ken that.”
Alec’s expression turned from confused to horrified in an instant. He had thought ’twas an old wive’s tale. Had not for a moment given any thought to his wife’s comfort. “But she did no’ say anythin’,” he all but whispered.
“Because she does no’ want ye to think ill of her,” Dougall explained.
Alec sighed, a long, frustrated sigh. A moment later, he was hauling his sleeping wife from her horse to his lap.
Startled, she opened her sleepy eyes, which were filled with astonishment. “What are ye doin’? What be the matter?” she asked as she looked around to gain her bearings.
“Ye were sleepin’ in yer saddle,” he said pointedly.
Her mouth formed that little ‘o’ shape. The one that sent his low burning desire for her into a fullblown blaze. Frustrated with his growing inability to quash the desires or thoughts, he pressed her head against his chest. “Sleep.”
His command was born more out of a need to quell his lust than for her comfort.
“I be sorry, Alec,” she murmured against his chest.
“Ye did no’ fall asleep in yer saddle the first time ye made this trek with me,” he said more to himself than to her.
She yawned as she snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “In my defense, I hadn’t been so deliciously ravaged the night before on that journey.”
Alec went stone cold silent.
“Did I say that out loud?” she whispered.
“Aye, ye did lass.” He could imagine those pink lips of hers forming that delicate ‘o’ again.
“I did no’ mean — that is to say—” she couldn’t quite form into words what she was thinking. She settled on, “I did no’ get much sleep last night.”
Alec chuckled as a tinge of pride crept into his soul. “So ye found our lovin’ delicious?” he whispered against the top of her head.
“Mayhap I should return to me own horse,” she replied.
Though he couldn’t see her face, he could well imagine it now bore a pink blush. “Dougall says ye be in pain.”
He felt her grow tense and gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I apologize fer no’ takin’ that into consideration.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I do no’ want ye to think me weak, Alec. Because I am no’.”
“I do no’ think ye weak, lass,” he said as he pressed her head against his chest again.
She sighed contentedly and he found he rather enjoyed that sound. And the way she felt against his chest. “I have no’ slept in two nights, ye ken.”
“Two nights?” he asked. “We were only married yesterday. What, pray tell, kept ye up the night before?”
She was quiet and still for so long, he thought she had finally succumbed to exhaustion. “I could no’ sleep the night before our weddin’,” she answered softly.
“Nay?” he asked. There was no doubt she’d come to their bed with her maidenhead still intact, and without an ounce of experience in how to love a man. Still, jealously reared its ugly head, for reasons he neither liked nor understood. “Who kept ye up the night before?”
“Ye did,” she replied in a whisper.
That made not a lick of sense. “But I was no’ with ye that night.”
She giggled ever so softly against his tunic. “I mean me thoughts were on ye that night. So much so that I could no’ sleep.”
Oh.
Inexplicably, he had the need to know what the thoughts of him entailed. “Were they delicious thoughts?” he asked with a chuckle.
Oh, they eventually turned to that. But she was not about to admit it, lest he think her a lowly born woman or a whore.
“Lass, ye can tell me. I’ll think no’ less of ye.” He sealed his prom
ise with a kiss to the top of her head. He inhaled her scent. Lilac soap, the outdoors, and all woman.
“I worried ye’d no’ come, that ye had changed yer mind.”
That was not the answer he had anticipated. It made his gut lurch, his hair stand on end, and his ire rise. “Ye think so little of me? Ye think I be the kind of man who does no’ keep his word?”
Sensing his distress, she sat up once again. “Nay, that is why I quit worryin’ about that. I kent ye would keep yer word.”
Much relieved, he gave her a curt nod. “I always keep me word.”
“I ken ye do, Alec.” She placed a warm palm affectionately against his cheek. “I did no’ mean to hurt yer feelins. But I did promise to always be honest with ye.”
“My feelins?” he asked, insulted to his bones. “Ye did no’ hurt my feelins. Ye insulted me integrity.”
Tears pooled in her eyes at his harsh rebuke. “I did no’ mean to do that either. I was only tryin’ to be honest with ye.”
Her sincerity was genuine, as were the tears welling in her eyes. One escaped, trailing down her pretty cheek.
Guilt. He was beset by it. She had not intended to insult him, she was only sharing with him her fears and worries. He knew nothing of being a husband, but decided it best to put his worries over losing his heart aside, at least for the moment. “I did no’ mean to bark at ye,” he said. “Please, do no’ cry.”
Gently this time, he pulled her against him. “Ye should rest.”
“I do no’ wish fer ye to think me weak or mean of heart, Alec,” she said as she wiped her tears against his tunic.
Nay, he’d never think her weak or mean spirited. Dangerous? Aye, she was that. Dangerous in that he could end up a besotted fool, easily giving his heart to her, to be wielded as a weapon against his male pride. Isn’t that what his mother had done to his father? Nay, he would not think ill of her spirit or her heart. But he would tread as cautiously as he would were he sneaking into Stirling Castle to kidnap the king. Exceedingly cautious.
Leona slept for a solid hour, her body limp and peaceful against his chest. When they stopped to make camp, she groused something unintelligible as Alec helped her to her feet. Sleepily, she offered him her thanks as he set her on the ground. “I feel better now,” she lied. “Are we stopping for only a moment?”
He had to laugh. She was far from well rested. “We be makin’ camp fer the night, lass.”
She looked positively gleeful, in a sleepy sort of way, to hear it. “Shall I prepare ye a meal, Alec?” she asked, through droopy eyes and a wide yawn. She was still clinging to the saddle with both hands.
Dougall was unable to resist his own chuckle at the sight of his very tired mistress. To Alec, he said, “We’ll put up yer tent. Ye keep her from keelin’ over.”
Alec agreed with a nod. “Nay, lass. We have the basket Rose gave us.”
That brought forth another gleeful, sleepy smile.
After helping her into the woods to relieve her bladder, he brought her back to the camp. Dougall and Gylys were erecting the tent whilst Kyth was building a fire.
Leona sat on the ground, her skirts spilling out all around her. Seeing her settled, he went to tend to the horses. After rubbing them down with handfuls of grass, he tethered them together for the night.
When he returned, the tent was erected, the fire blazing, and his wife was fast asleep. In one hand, she had a half eaten leg of chicken. In the other, a nearly full mug of ale.
She was sitting strait up. Asleep. He thought it both comical and angelic all at once. Mayhap he had loved her too much last night. He should feel ashamed, but he didn’t. Nay, instead, he took pride in it.
With a smile, he took the chicken from her hand and put it betwixt his teeth. “I just need to close me eyes fer a moment. I will be fine, really,” she protested, though not vociferously.
He handed the ale to Kyth, then scooped his wife into his arms. With the chicken leg still in his mouth, he took her into the tent. ’Twas impossible for him to stand to his full height once inside. With care, he laid her on the pallet and drew up the furs.
“Really, Alec, I can walk on me own two feet,” she murmured against the pillow.
He chuckled softly, patted her cheek, and left her to sleep.
Chapter 6
As much as he wanted to wake her when he finally returned to the tent later that night, he dared not. The poor girl needed her rest.
Her beauty bordered on celestial, which made sleep nearly impossible. His thoughts kept returning to the night before and the loving they had shared. It had been a wondrous and terrifying experience. One he looked forward to experiencing again, and hopefully soon.
When he woke the next morn, she was facing him with her eyes open. A most peculiar expression adorned her face. Her head rested on her hands, her golden hair all mussed, and her lips were curved into a warm smile, as if she were happy to see him.
“Good morn, lass,” he said, his voice still scratchy with sleep.
“Good morn, Alec.” She sounded most content.
They watched each other for a time before Alec asked, “Did ye sleep well?”
She nodded.
“Are ye warm?”
Another nod of affirmation.
“Be there somethin’ ye need?” he asked, her silence and the manner in which she stared at him making him begin to wonder.
She drew her bottom lip in betwixt her teeth. “Are ye certain I can always be honest with ye, no matter the subject?”
“Aye,” he said, growing wary and suspicious.
“Ye be absolutely certain?”
“Aye, lass. What is it ye wish to speak about?”
She bit her bottom lip again, choosing her words very carefully. “I be no’ sore today.”
It took a long moment for her meaning to register. As he smiled wryly at her, “That is good to ken, lass.” He pretended not to know her meaning.
“Well, if ye wanted to, that is if ye’re no’ too tired, we could, well, we could.”
“Could what?” he asked, toying with her. He knew exactly to what she was referring.
“Ye ken,” she said, her face turning a wonderful shade of pink.
Still feigning ignorance, he said, “No, I fear I do no’. Why do ye no’ just show me what it is ye want.”
Oh, I couldn’t possibly… could I?
But she did.
Who knew that a good night’s rest and a good morning’s loving could leave a person feeling so … alive? She felt wholly different this morn, far different than yesterday. More mature, older, and wiser. She hadn’t expected to feel so changed after marriage, but she was.
Refreshed and filled near to bursting with vigor, Leona tended to her morning ablutions, shook out her green dress and slipped it over her chemise. She hadn’t realized she was humming cheerfully. As she slipped the wide, long apron over her dress, she heard Alec’s warm, low voice.
“Why do ye wear the apron?”
He was still lying on the pallet, the furs pulled down to his waist, exposing that wide, muscular chest. Propped on one elbow, his brow furrowed, he watched her with a half-smile.
Her mind had wandered away, as it oft did of late, especially when either of them were without clothing.
“Why do ye wear the apron?” he asked again, jolting her out of her reverie.
She thought about what the most appropriate response would be.
“Tell me true,” he prompted. “Ye wear it all the time, even when ye’re no’ cookin’ or cleanin’.” He felt certain he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it in her own words.
Tell him true? She took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eye. “Men do no’ like women with a big bosom.”
He choked back his laughter but was unable to hide his astonishment. “Who in the bloody hell told ye that?”
Her face burned red, her eyes grew wide. “Does it matter who told me? ’Tis the truth, is it no’?”
He patted the pallet, asking
her to sit. “Lass, I ken we’ve no’ been married long, but have I ever once givin’ ye the idea that I did no’ care fer yer breasts?”
She bit her bottom lip as she thought on it. Nay, he had not said or done anything to lead her to believe such. If anything, he always looked at them with something akin to reverence.
“I do no’ ken who told ye such a thing, but it be no’ true,” he said as he looped a bit of her honey-colored hair around his finger. ‘Twas nearly impossible for him to resist touching her silky tresses. “I happen to hold yer breasts in verra high esteem.”
Her cheeks grew darker. “Ye do seem to be fond of them when we’re lovin’.”
Chuckling, he gave her a slow nod. “I am quite fond of them.”
“Even though they be verra big?”
Her embarrassment deepened endearingly. “I am quite fond of all of ye,” he said. “Ye never have to cover or hide yerself. Least of all from me.”
“But men often stare oddly at me when I do no’ cover meself.”
“I’ll kill any man who stares oddly at ye,” he told her. Jealousy could be an ugly thing, but in this case, he felt it quite appropriate.
They broke their fast over bannocks and dried beef and were soon on their way. Although she was quite excited about starting her new life amongst the Bowie people, she was also filled with a good deal of trepidation. Would they accept her as one of their own? Would they be as kind as Alec and his men? Oh, how she prayed they would be.
Alec wanted peace for his clan. Leona too, desired peace, but an altogether different kind. She wanted peace of mind and heart. But most of all, she wanted a home. A home to call her very own. Filled to the rafters with love and laughter.
It hadn’t been until she had come to live with Ian and Rose that she realized what had been missing in her life. She had known a cold void existed, but how to fill it? She’d never been able to figure it out, at least not completely.
She knew she wanted friends, friends who would not judge her or listen to the lies her father told. And a husband. Oh, how she had longed for a husband who would give her many bairns.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 6
