The Highlander’s Bride Trouble Page 20

  “Mine…” He claimed her as he drove her over the edge. She screamed. The sound bounced off the walls, and she didn’t care. There was too much sensation ripping through her to contain it. She felt like a log dropping in the hearth; when she hit bottom, a shower of red and orange sparks went flying out. It was that hot, that searing.

  “Completely mine…” he continued as he thrust against her, riding her through the storm of ecstasy. Just as it began to ebb, he groaned, the sound deep and male. The first spurt of his seed sent her into another climax. It caught her by surprise, tearing her back into the swirling vortex as Saer filled her full.

  This time, her heart was going to burst, but she didn’t have any strength to care. In that moment, she accepted anything he chose to do with her, because she was absolutely his.

  ***

  He kissed her, slow and sweetly. Nareen opened her eyes, slightly unsure of how much time had passed. Saer kissed her temple and then her forehead, and her heart settled into a steady, slow rhythm.

  “Now ye’re tender,” she accused softly.

  He tilted his head and nipped the column of her throat. “Ye did nae want tender, lass, any more than I did. I satisfied ye. A selfish man would only use ye.”

  “I know.” The words were soft, and he nuzzled her ear for a moment before lowering her feet to the floor. Her knees were shaky, but satisfaction was glowing inside her, making it all seem perfect.

  “I suppose I should have ye stitch this before I ruin the linens.” His shoulder. How could she have forgotten?

  “Sit down.” She hurried over and grabbed the lantern near the wardrobe. Once she had it near Saer, she opened the latch on the little tin side to let more of the candlelight out.

  Blood had seeped down his back. She picked up a wash basin and went out onto the terrazzino to fill it. Saer had taken off his boots again by the time she returned. He took a drink of Scotch, and then a second one.

  She used a piece of soap to wash her hands before she dunked a linen napkin from her supper into the water. As she began to clean his back, he braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward to give her better access.

  She threaded the needle and held it over the flame of the candle for a moment.

  “This is going to hurt,” she warned him.

  “Nae nearly as much as finding ye missing did.”

  Her hand began to tremble, the admission cutting straight through her well-thought-out reasons for refusing him. But she drew in a deep breath and began to stitch.

  “I suppose taking yer dress was nae a way to endear ye to me.”

  She cut off the thread and doused the closed wound with the whisky. He stiffened and drew in a sharp breath.

  “I suppose refusing to wed ye did nae endear me to ye, either,” she offered softly as she washed her hands.

  He chuckled as she bound the wound with a length of cloth for the night. Once she finished, he pulled her into his lap.

  His embrace was perfect. She just couldn’t think of anything else while his arms were locked around her.

  “It seems we both need to learn to trust,” he said at last.

  A yawn caught her by surprise, and he grunted before standing her up. But he caught her hand before she moved away.

  “Promise me the rest of the harvest season to convince ye, Nareen.”

  His expression was guarded, his tone too. He wasn’t a man accustomed to negotiation, and the effort touched her deeply.

  “If ye will nae wed me before the first snow flurries begin to fall, I’ll send ye home.”

  It was a vow, one she had absolute faith in.

  “Agreed.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened. “That simply?”

  “I’ve never questioned yer honor, Saer.” She leaned down and kissed his hand. “Only me own ability to make peace with placing meself under a man’s rule. It has never been yer failing, but mine. I would nae disappoint ye and see ye grow to hate me.”

  She watched the understanding dawn in his eyes. His lips curled up in a wide grin, and he caught her up in an embrace before twirling around in a circle until she squealed.

  When he put her down, she was breathless and teetered off balance.

  “I’ll win ye, Nareen.”

  His eyes were glittering with delight, and for a moment, she truly hoped he would.

  Six

  “Those bells ring too early,” Saer groused at dawn.

  Nareen rubbed her burning eyes and tried to move. Her body complained bitterly.

  Saer had no mercy and tugged the bedding off her, exposing her bare skin to the brisk morning air.

  She yelped and rolled over and onto her feet. Once she was standing, she glared at him.

  “Ye have duties to attend to,” he said without a hint of remorse. “I want to see what else ye know before I assign ye a group to instruct.”

  She found her chemise and pulled it over her head. “Ye cannae be serious?” She struggled with getting her arms into the sleeves and brushing her hair out of her face.

  “Why nae?” he questioned as he tossed aside the fabric she’d bound his wound with. He offered her the bottle of Scotch and turned his back so she might disinfect the line of stitches again.

  In the light of day, she winced at the sight of the red edges.

  “What is yer concern?” He pressed her for an answer as she poured a small amount of the liquor on the wound.

  “That yer Father Peter is going to insist I be locked in the pillory.”

  Saer grunted and pulled on his shirt. “He’ll keep his peace, as he has with the other changes I’ve made to restore the MacLeods to full strength. Everyone on my land will make adjustments in their thinking. Ye’ve been trained, and well. That is nae a resource I intend to waste.”

  He turned and shot her a wicked look. “Even if I prefer the idea of ye sitting here, waiting for me in naught but yer shift.”

  She threw a pillow at him, but it only made a soft sound when it hit his chest and slid to the floor. “I doubt Father Peter will be the only one who points out I am a woman and nae minding me place.”

  “The Comyn are bastards, who have raped more than one of me clanswomen,” Saer informed her bluntly. “If that is the place of a woman, I say it should be changed, and I am laird of the MacLeods.”

  He was that. It was in his bearing, and now, as the daylight was brightening the chamber, she could see him focusing completely on his responsibilities. That was the reason she felt like power radiated from him. His thoughts were aimed completely on whatever it was he was doing or seeking.

  When it was directed at her, it was overwhelming. When it was his clan, it was awe-inspiring. The combination produced a man who was quickly becoming too great for her dismiss.

  ***

  They hurried into the church as the opening prayers were being sung. Nareen tried to stand at the back, but the MacLeod women all moved out of her way, leaving her facing the priest.

  Father Peter stumbled over his words when he saw her. His cheeks darkened as he looked away from her, and his voice returned to a steady, even tone. There were no benches in the church. Women stood in rows on one side while men stood on the other. The only furniture was the altar with wooden candleholders set atop it. Along the sides of the church, there were alcoves where relics or statues must once have sat. They were empty now.

  The service finished, and Father Peter made the sign of the cross over his flock.

  The women parted again, none of them willing to step in front of her. Everyone strained to get a look at her, many of the women holding up their daughters so the little ones might get a peek as well.

  “Mistress Grant?” Saer offered her his hand.

  She took it gratefully, and he escorted her from the church. Whispers rose behind them
as he took her into the Hall. The scent of the morning meal was drifting through the air, and women hurrying about as they set out bowls of steaming porridge. Men were crowded onto the benches, laughing and enjoying the moment of rest.

  Everyone froze when they saw her. The activity around the hearth came to a halt as everyone tried to get a look at her.

  “Sure ye do nae wish to wed now?” Saer asked beneath his breath.

  Her cheeks heated as he escorted her up the aisle to the head table. “Do nae enjoy this so much, Laird MacLeod.”

  His eyes glittered with mayhem. “Now that is simply something I cannae promise to do, for I enjoy ye being here too greatly.”

  He did. It was there in his eyes and in the way he held her hand so formally in front of his people. A perfectly proper escort position. No one would have reproached him for taking the lead, for he was laird, but he shared the moment with her. Making it clear she was the woman he was setting above all others.

  Even a wife could not always expect such. She might demand it, but the power was the laird’s.

  By the time they reached the head table, a retainer had pulled a heavy chair out for her. Saer needed no assistance. The moment they sat, the staff began to serve the table. It began with a bowl being offered to Saer. Once he put his hand over it, another boy poured water from a pitcher onto his hands. A third servant offered a linen to dry them.

  It was a level of service she’d seen and helped perform many times at the Ross castle, but somehow, hadn’t pictured Saer demanding. She realized he wasn’t demanding anything. She caught him biting his lip with impatience as his plate was salted and cleaned before being placed in front of him.

  As the meal progressed, the servants hurried to serve Saer and her. They did it out of respect for the place he offered them and the opportunities promised to their children. On MacLeod land, a son might have a better life than his father. It was a rare thing.

  It was something that endeared him to her. He was far more complex than she’d realized. Far more than just a man who had decided she belonged to him. She might have contemplated it further, but he rose from the table the moment he’d finished and offered her his hand.

  “Now, lass, let’s see what else Kael taught ye.”

  There was a challenge in his voice that she warmed to. “I am looking forward to it.”

  ***

  No man should be able to move so freely with a wound on his shoulder.

  Nareen bit back a harsh word as she stumbled past him for what must have been the tenth time, because he moved out of her way so easily. But she turned and kept him in her sights.

  “Good,” he said. “Kael taught ye nae to let yer opponent get at yer open back.”

  “That can prove deadly.”

  Saer nodded and came at her again with a wooden training dagger. This time, she cut to the side and swung her closed fist at his temple. Pain snaked up her arm from the connection, but Saer was knocked out of his stride. If only for two paces. He jumped around with a chuckle, his kilt rising up to flash his thighs at her. “Well done.”

  His captains began muttering behind him. They hung back, but Nareen still felt them judging her.

  Well, let them. She knew what she was doing.

  Dust rose up as he continued to attack. By the time they finished, her hair was matted with sweat and dirt. But she was satisfied, because Saer looked just as taxed. He watched her brush at some of the dirty splotches on her dress.

  “I’ll have Gitta find ye something else to wear. If ye’re training, ye’ll need a change of clothing.”

  “Ye’ll need new shirts, since it seems ye have no intention of letting that wound heal.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

  He looked past her at Baruch. “Let her work with the tens after dinner. They could use a bit of dagger training.”

  Nareen was surprised to see it was almost time for the main meal of the day. The sun was directly above them.

  “I have to inspect the walls,” he told her, pausing for a moment near her. He reached out and smoothed some of her hair back. “Ye astound me, lass.”

  “Most men would be disgusted.” It was the truth, and she wanted to see what he’d say when others were listening.

  Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “Many were disgusted by my bastard birth and happy to tell me I did nae belong training next to the righteous. I do nae give a damn for their opinions. Strength interests me. Ye have that in abundance.”

  It wasn’t the sort of compliment she’d ever envisioned enjoying. Nor was it like any of the flattery so many men had lavished on her. But it pleased her more completely than any words ever had.

  Saer rubbed her cheek a final time before he left. His captains fell into step with him, attempting to converse with him. His position of laird was more than title; it was there in the way he was taking charge.

  And he offered her a place too.

  It was more than she’d ever thought to have—certainly more than she would have if she returned to Grant land. There she would care for her father until his death, and then become the unwed sister of the laird. Kael would wed, of course, and his bride would expect to be mistress.

  The title didn’t really interest her. Knowing she had more purpose than warming a bed did. So what did it mean?

  She wished she knew. Her feelings were so complicated, and still, Saer was cutting through them with an ease that relieved her as much as it frustrated her.

  The bells began to ring in the tower, announcing dinner. Everyone started to make their way to the Great Hall. Nareen looked back and saw Saer up on one of the new sections of wall. He was listening to a man as they looked at one of the rising towers.

  The laird was magnificent.

  ***

  The youths she was assigned to teach stared at her with suspicion. Nareen walked to the portion of the yard reserved for boys ten to twelve years of age and discovered it packed. But not just with boys.

  Every single one of their mothers was there, many of them making the sign of the cross over themselves when they saw her. They frowned, obviously distrustful of a woman being given charge of their sons.

  “I heard she tried to kill the laird…”

  “I hear he was impressed by the attempt…”

  Nareen swallowed the lump in her throat. Several of the boys puffed out their chests to make a good showing.

  She just tried to keep her knees from knocking.

  With a deep breath, she tried to recall how Kael had begun teaching her. There were a few confused looks before she worked out what needed to be done. Small steps. Break the knowledge down and teach every step until you might put it together. By the time the sun was setting, she had neat rows of boys practicing defense against a downward plunge attack. There were cheeky grins as some of them succeeded, and proud looks from their mothers.

  Many of the women left once they were assured she wasn’t some demon who would spread evil to their children. Around her, the stonemasons continued their work, and the older boys worked with swords as their training masters called out commands. The scent of sweat was high as dust rose from their activities.

  Her sleeve was wet from the number of times she’d wiped her brow on it. She longed for the freedom Saer had to simply roll his sleeves up to the shoulder. But at least she had been able to remove her oversleeves. They’d ended up draped over a barrel before her class was half finished. One of the older women, who had been carding wool while watching the class, brought them to her at the end.

  “Rather well done. Of course, ye’ll have to stop teaching once ye ripen with child…”

  Nareen froze. The thing that had tormented her rose up in response to the woman’s comment.

  Sons… It was the thing Saer craved from her most of all.

  The older woman
smiled, then moved off toward the Great Hall for supper.

  Doubt needled her as she followed.

  There was no place in life that was free of responsibility. If she returned home, she’d owe her brother’s wife deference and respect.

  But if she stayed, she’d face Saer’s expectations of sons.

  It was his right, of course. He was not wrong to wish for such, but what weighed on her shoulders was the need to be done with living in uncertain circumstances. If she wed him, she’d have to accept uncertainty.

  She honestly didn’t know if she could.

  But she had given her word, and the time frame eased her worry. She did not have to make any decision right now. That granted her the freedom to enjoy the moment.

  If nothing else, she’d have a fine memory to keep her warm once she left Saer for the cold life of a spinster.

  ***

  By the end of the week, Nareen ached in more places than she thought possible. Her forearms were bruised from blocking so many times. Her fingers were raw from pulling back the bowstring. At least her feet proved worthy. All of the hours of standing behind Abigail had strengthened them. As the sun began to set, she made her way up to the tower’s top chamber, happily anticipating being able to wash the sweat from her skin.

  The chamber was quiet, the doors open to the terrazzino. She happily stripped away her filthy clothing, wrinkling her nose at the stench. Perhaps she should have just stood beneath the water in her clothing.

  The water in the buckets would warm during the day. She’d learned by the end of the week to use water wisely so her bath was warm. Not that chilly water would have stopped her from using the device every night. It was a godsend to be able to clean herself so easily. What were a few goose bumps?

  She pulled the length of linen off the hook and wrapped it around herself. But she froze when she entered the chamber, because something was laid out on the bed. She moved closer and found a new chemise waiting for her.

  “Ye can thank some of yer students’ mothers for that.”

  She jumped and turned to find Saer sitting in one of the chairs.