Magnar (The Wolves of Clan Sutherland Book 1)

by Mary Morgan

  Magnar lifted her chin with his finger. For the first time, he noted the dark smudges under her eyes. Little sleep and worry had taken its toll on his brave wife. “You were overcome by the news. Nae need for regret,” he reassured.

  When a lone tear trickled down her cheek, he brushed it aside with the pad of his thumb.

  Elspeth grasped his hand and leaned her warm cheek into his palm. “Thank you.”

  Magnar brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. “Allow me to assist you onto your horse. Steinn awaits.”

  “I would welcome your aid,” she whispered.

  He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Walking slowly through the trees, they soon came upon her mount. Even the animal appeared tired and strained. He gave a gentle pat to the horse. “You have served us well.”

  Elspeth smiled and stroked the horse’s mane. “Indeed, husband.”

  How Magnar enjoyed hearing her calling him thus. “Give me your foot.”

  Instead, she faced him, placing her hands on his chest. “From this day forward, I give you my word I shall obey your orders, if we go into any battles.”

  Magnar arched a brow in question.

  “Or if there is a threat,” she added hastily.

  His hand skimmed down her waist and settled on her lush bottom. “Therefore, you will obey only if there are battles or threats?”

  “’Tis a start, aye?”

  His hand squeezed. “Do you want to hear what I shall do to you if you disobey another order—one that could put you in harm, again?”

  With a gasp, she tried to wrest free of his hold. “You would not dare?” Though her tone betrayed shock, her eyes danced with mischief.

  He gripped her bottom more firmly. “A challenge that I accept.”

  She dared to lean against him. “Show me.”

  By the Gods how you tempt me, Elspeth.

  He rubbed his face against her cheek, inhaling her womanly scent. “Nae, wife. Not here. For your punishment, I might have to consider removing your clothes and tossing your naked body over my knees—”

  “Will it bring me pleasure?” she interrupted on a moan.

  He stilled his progress. Did she not understand how her words inflamed his desire? “Depends…”

  Lifting her head, she regarded him. “On what?”

  Smiling, he answered, “How hard or soft you wish me to stroke your bottom.”

  She shuddered, but desire reflected in those emerald eyes. “Hmm…”

  Magnar released his hold. “Best we get to Steinn. Your foot, wife.”

  Red splotches stained her cheeks and neck as she complied. After settling her firmly on the horse’s back, Magnar gave a short whistle.

  His horse emerged from the trees, trotting toward him. Swiftly getting onto the animal, he reached for the reins, and they slowly made their way onward to the hillside. When they reached the top, Elspeth brought her horse to a halt and Magnar approached beside her.

  Wariness marred her face while she scanned the valley below. “Magnar?”

  Concerned, he reached for her hand. “Aye. What troubles you? Steinn is truly under our control. You should be happy to return to your home.”

  She bit her lower lip. Darting him a furtive glance, she explained, “You…you do not think me brazen?” Fidgeting with the reins, Elspeth continued, “For wanting to learn about what happens between a wife and husband?”

  Magnar cupped her chin. “Contrary to what you may have been told, pleasure within a marriage is considered important. ’Tis what I hoped and yearned for with you.”

  “Then you do not mind if I talk thus with you?” Again, her cheeks were stained with a becoming rosy hue he loved seeing.

  He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek. “Nae. In fact, I encourage you to share more of what you desire, my kærr.”

  Averting her gaze from his, Elspeth shielded her eyes from the morning light. “Good.”

  “Ready to enter Steinn?” he asked softly.

  She turned and gave him a radiant smile. “Lead the way, husband.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Laughter and song filled the great hall while Elspeth watched from the entrance. So many emotions swirled within her. Joy and sorrow battled for control. Aye, she was grateful for returning, and ’twas a joyous reunion, yet the sadness of what she’d witnessed lingered within her memories. Earlier when they entered Steinn, there were less than fifteen to greet them. Tears streamed down her face as she embraced each of them, praising them on their brave fortitude.

  When she announced that Magnar was her husband, they all shouted their approval. The women embraced him, while the men gave their vow of loyalty and appreciation for returning their chieftain and his aunt safely to them.

  Never in all her life had Elspeth witnessed such affection. Although, to be fair, their home had never suffered an attack like the one they’d endured.

  Gunnar and Ivar took more guards in an effort to bring back any others who had fled. They left with a reassurance to restore as many as possible to Steinn.

  Elspeth’s gratitude to Magnar and his men was immense.

  She scanned the hall, seeking out her nephew. Barely making out his small form among the other guards, she smiled, allowing the tension to ease from her shoulders. Though the hour was late, she knew the importance of this small feasting. The people needed to be with their new chieftain. And for the first time, Erik listened to their woes, remaining silent about his quest.

  “You are a great leader to our people, Erik. Your father would be proud,” she uttered quietly. Elspeth drew in a shaky breath, and unshed tears burned her eyes once again.

  Magnar approached by her side. He handed her a cup. “Wine.”

  She bit back the curse as she took the offering. “I am surprised there are any barrels left.” Fury rose unbidden, recalling the earlier image of an almost empty larder. The bastards had left nothing for her people.

  Magnar nudged her. “You can thank the older woman and man by the hearth. They hid what was left of the good wine in a separate room.”

  “They are Emer and Dougal.” After taking a sip of the wine, Elspeth let the fruity liquid warm her. She laughed softly. “They saved…” She paused and took another sip to steady her nerves. “This is my brother’s finest wine.”

  “Even when the woman was threatened by Halvard, she refused to disclose the location of the barrels.”

  Elspeth stiffened. “Goodness. Emer should not have been so brave. If the man gave nae regard for my brother, he certainly would not have an issue with putting a blade into an old woman.”

  Taking her elbow, her husband steered Elspeth inside the hall.

  “I would rather stay outside,” she protested, trying to halt her steps, but failing miserably under his brute strength.

  The warrior expression that graced her husband’s face most of the time relaxed a bit. “You must eat.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “Nae. These people require food.” Lifting her cup, she declared, “Wine will suffice.”

  Magnar blew out a curse and pulled out a wooden chair for her. He waited patiently for her to sit. “Since you have busied yourself with searching the castle for any of your people who may have been hiding, I made sure the food supplies we had, although limited, were distributed among your people. Furthermore, some have secured berries, nuts, and cheese. In the morn, a group of men are planning a hunt.”

  Elspeth sat in the chair Magnar offered. She placed a hand over her stomach in an attempt to squelch its persistent grumblings.

  He bent and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I will return shortly.”

  Elspeth studied her husband over the rim of her cup. He crossed the expanse of the hall as if he were their leader. She marveled at his ease with her people. Women came up to the giant with smiles and nods, once again giving thanks for bringing peace to their home.

  Even after everything they had been through, they gave these Northmen their respect. Her admiration continued to grow for Mag
nar, along with another emotion. Did she dare to hope for more?

  Can I love this man? The word was elusive as a feather blowing in the summer breeze. The feeling blossomed, but fear stayed its approach.

  Settling back in her chair, she allowed the murmur of voices and the wine to soothe her weary body. Erik’s laughter floated above the din, and Elspeth yawned. On a sigh, she closed her eyes.

  ****

  As Magnar approached the table with a trencher of food for his wife, he noted the soft snores escaping from her lips while she slept. With only wine for sustenance, Elspeth had surrendered to the strain of their journey. “Once again, I find you asleep before I can offer you some food.” His concern for Elspeth grew even more.

  Setting the trencher on the table, he went in search of aid for his wife.

  Placing a gentle hand on Emer’s shoulder, he asked, “Would you show me Elspeth’s chambers?”

  The woman looked around him and grinned. “’Tis a wonder she did not seek rest the moment she returned.” Rising from her chair, she reached for a jug of wine and crossed to his wife.

  Magnar followed her. Gently, he lifted Elspeth into his arms. She let out a small cry of protest, dropping the cup onto the floor, and then curled up against him.

  “I shall bring the food as well,” suggested Emer.

  Steadily, they made their way out of the hall and down a corridor to the stairs. After adjusting her in his arms, he traveled at a quiet pace. The torches along the stone walls cast eerie shapes and shadows in passing.

  The dead still lingered. Warriors who sought revenge for battles not won.

  Approaching the chambers, Magnar slowed his progress.

  Emer placed the jug on the floor and opened the wooden door. “Take the lass to her bed. Forgive me…umm…your bed.” Seemingly flustered, she reached for the jug of wine and went to deposit everything on a table by the window.

  Magnar grinned and entered the chamber. Though the day had been warm, a chill infused the room, as if the ghosts from the past had entered with them. The shutters by the arched window were open, and he watched the sun slip behind the trees. “Day enters night,” he whispered.

  “Shall I send for someone to light a fire? Or tend to the candles?”

  “Nae. I thank you for your kindness, Emer. Go seek your rest.”

  The woman gave him a smile and slipped silently from the chambers.

  After carefully placing Elspeth on the furs of the bed, Magnar regarded his sleeping wife. With deft skill, he eased the shoes from her feet and wrapped part of the fur over her body. His fingers brushed a curl that had escaped from her braid. “You are lovely.”

  Magnar craved her beyond a primal need, and this frightened him. He shrugged it aside, believing it was the lustful beast and nothing more. Once he bedded Elspeth, the feeling would wane. Yet in their brief time together, he found himself yearning for more than just her body—he wanted her mind and soul as well.

  Enough!

  The blue stone shimmered in the darkened room. Sorely tempting him to fondle the pendant for a sense of its power. Magnar raised his hand over the gem. Instantly, his wolf snapped to attention and gnashed his teeth in warning. Even this close, the force pulsed across his skin. To touch the stone would not bring harm to him, only the act of trying to possess what was not his to control. He knew the legend. Nevertheless, the power was undeniable and his wife unaware.

  I am nae fool to risk your death, my friend. I cannot take what is not mine to possess.

  His wolf receded.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he attempted to banish his thoughts—from lust to power within the stone. He swept his gaze around the room and noted the wood by the hearth. Even though he preferred the open window, he was eager to rid the cold dampness lingering in the chamber for his wife’s sake. Magnar squatted and started a fire in the hearth. Within moments, the wood and kindling snapped to life. Flames flickered to glorious heat, and he rolled his shoulders to ease the tension.

  After ridding himself of his boots and trews, he welcomed the warmth of the fire as it soothed his body.

  Going to the table to retrieve the jug of wine and a lone cup, Magnar returned to a chair by the hearth. Pouring a hefty amount of wine into his cup, he swirled the dark liquid. He dipped two fingers into the wine and leaned forward, sprinkling the liquid on the hearth. “Hail, All Father. Welcome, Warrior. Come sit by the fire with me. Allow peace to reside here for these people.” He guzzled deeply.

  Leaning back in the chair, he stretched out his legs and glanced out the window.

  “You made a good wine, Thomas.” He lifted his cup to the first star gracing the sky. “May you enter Valhalla, my friend.”

  For the first time in many moons, Magnar allowed his body to relax. Tonight was for rest. Tomorrow he would let his wolf roam the hills.

  “Do you find the chair a comfortable bed?” asked Elspeth, stifling a yawn.

  His heated gaze locked with hers over the rim of his cup. “Where would you have me sleep, wife?”

  She patted the space next to her. “Here.”

  “Not enough room,” he argued, furious with himself for not accepting her offer.

  She rose up on her elbow. “I am inviting you to my bed, Magnar.”

  Desire burned within his veins. More than anything, he ached to join her on the furs.

  She tossed the covering aside. “Stubborn as a boar, you are, Magnar MacAlpin!”

  Affronted by her words, his brow furrowed. “For wanting my wife to get her rest?”

  Clucking her tongue in obvious disapproval, Elspeth turned away from him and started to unravel the braid of hair. Bewitched, he watched the way her fingers unbound the silken mass. When she was finished, she shook out her hair, letting it tumble down her back.

  He gripped the cup tightly as his breathing became labored. He wanted those locks across his chest, even lower, to brush against his throbbing cock.

  She stole a beguiling look over her shoulder at him. “Tempted yet?”

  “Nae,” he lied, realizing fully the enticing game she was playing. However, his wife required rest, not bedding.

  Elspeth turned and scooted across the covers. Removing a sgian dubh from under the pillows, she held the blade in front of her.

  He cocked a brow. “Do you always keep a blade under your pillows? This is not the first time you have presented one before me in our chamber.”

  “I have nae desire to sleep in this soiled, tattered gown.” With a tug and slice, Elspeth slit the side of her gown. Dropping the blade to the floor, she managed to strip most of the gown from her upper body, where it pooled around her waist.

  Her pert nipples reminded Magnar of ripe cherries, begging to be suckled and savored. He found his control slipping severely and drained the remainder of wine.

  Elspeth clutched the furs. “Now will you share our bed?” she asked softly, biting her lower lip.

  His resolve shattered completely.

  After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Magnar flung the cup out the window, heedless of its direction.

  Abruptly standing, he tore his tunic from his body. Fisting his hands on his hips, he let her take her fill of him. He stood rooted to the floor, giving her the time she needed. When her gaze lingered on his thick cock, he let out a groan.

  “Help me out of this gown,” she ordered, coming to stand on the floor.

  Magnar stormed across the chamber to her side. His hands shook as he ripped the garment from her body and tossed it aside.

  Grasping her firmly around the waist with one hand, he took her mouth in swift possession—demanding and forceful. No longer could he be tender. The blood pounded in his veins in a way he had never known. She had pushed past his barriers of steely control. He feared if she ordered him to stop, he would not be able to comply.

  Her moan resonated within him, and he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her velvet softness. He fondled her breast and pinched the pert nipple. Elspeth splayed
her fingers in his hair, urging him onward with her movements.

  He broke free from her mouth and traced a path along the vein of her neck with his tongue. Her skin was as sweet as wine—heady and filling a need he wasn’t able to fathom. Nipping on her shoulder, he continued to slake his passion on her supple body. With his free hand, Magnar cupped her other breast and drew his tongue over the pert nipple he had fantasized about, before taking it between his teeth.

  “Sweet goodness,” she gasped.

  “Aye,” he agreed, unable to say any more.

  Reclaiming her lips, Magnar crushed her to him. His hand skimmed down her waist until he sought her womanly folds. She was hot and moist, and he knew her to be ready to take him into her body. His fingers brushed over her sensitive core, and her scent filled him. He teased her with each stroke, building the fire within her body.

  She squirmed and whimpered. “Aye, more,” she pleaded, arching against his hand.

  Grasping her intent, Magnar paused. He wanted her to feel the yearning with him inside her. Despite the fact she was a virgin, conflict tore at him. His body battled against his mind to take his wife slowly.

  Her legs began to tremble, and he lifted her into his arms. “You are very warm.” She breathed the words against his neck.

  “I fear I am unable to be gentle with you, Elspeth,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Raw desire glittered in those emerald eyes as she leaned back. “I have heard there will be pain, but only briefly.”

  He choked on a laugh and eased her back on the furs.

  Elspeth smacked at his arm. “You find humor in what little understanding I have between a man and a woman?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

  Magnar cupped her chin. “I confess I have never bedded a virgin. Especially one who is as brazen as my wife.”

  She started to protest, and Magnar silenced her by placing his thumb over her lips. “You continue to surprise me in the most tempting ways, my kærr.”

  Her smile speared straight to his heart.

  “Will you grant me a favor?” he asked softly.

  “Anything, husband.”

  He winked at her. “I shall remember your words. For now, please remove the pendant. You can tuck it safely under the pillows. All will be explained later.”