Chapter Nine

Eve meant to stay utterly still and unresponsive during the kiss Grant had stolen, but what her mind planned and her body wanted were appallingly at odds. She’d never been kissed, so she’d had no notion what to expect, nor how it would make her feel. But as his tongue swirled in her mouth and his strong arms circled her protectively while his hands worked wonders upon her back, her heart pounded, her belly tightened, and a strange tingling ache filled her to her core. She found herself leaning toward him, giving freely to the passion of his kiss.

He tasted of mead and smoke, and he smelled of the grass and the sea. He’d called her a temptress, but she had to wonder now who was tempting whom.

Just as she was getting used to the feeling of his lips gently on hers, his tongue tenderly exploring her mouth, his kiss became hungry, his lips ravishing hers. Yet, her response both shocked and scared her by the mere fact that she was not afraid of what he was doing to her. Now she was fearful of how she was responding. The pit of her stomach swirled wildly, and gooseflesh covered her skin. His kiss sang through her veins and ignited an ache unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He was a stranger to her, yet when he kissed her, it felt as if she’d known him for a thousand years.

His lips left her mouth to trail a fiery path down her neck to her chest, and instead of pushing him away, she fisted her hand in his thick hair and shamefully pressed his head closer to her chest. She quivered beneath his magical lips as they descended with precision to the valley of her breast, which was exposed by the overly large léine. She had a vague awareness of his fingers parting the material farther until it gaped open, but it was not until cool air hit her breast and his wet tongue circled her nipple that she became fully aware of what she was allowing to happen.

Heaven above, it had to be a sin, but it felt so blessedly good. Hot desire gripped her in an unmerciful hold as astonishment slammed into her. She should push him away, her mind screaming at her to tell him to stop, but when she attempted to speak, a moan escaped her instead. Grant took her nipple fully into his mouth and suckled, causing shameful lust and need to pulse from her heart to between her legs. Clara had told her about what occurred when a man and a woman kissed, but she’d said it felt pleasant. Pleasant . Clearly, Clara had purposely left some details out. That or Clara had never been properly kissed.

This was beyond pleasant. This was robbing her of her good sense. She wanted nothing more than to press Grant closer, to give over to the ache consuming her, but if she did that, she’d join with him before they were even wed! Perhaps she was a harlot at heart. No, she could not join with a man she had no intention of staying married to. Lust was not love. Besides, he had already admitted that he wanted her for her castle.

She shoved at his chest until he broke the contact, and he raised his head, his compelling blue eyes meeting hers and pinning her to the spot. He was so appealing to all her senses that her breath caught in her throat, and she could do no more than stand agape as his fingers brushed gently over the bud he’d just suckled and then pulled up her léine until she was covered once more. Yet, even when his hand fell to his side and they were no longer touching, she felt something invisible reaching across the divide between them to circle her and bind him to her.

Her heart fluttered wildly as he smiled wickedly, possession gleaming in his eyes. “Ye see? Ye dunnae have anything to fear.”

He was wrong. She had everything to fear. She knew he was trying to seduce her. She’d heard his plan when he had spoken with his men in the great hall. Yet, here she stood, perilously close to forgetting his true intention and giving in to the need he’d awoken. The man was a wolf, and she his prey. He was playing a game with her, and she’d almost lost. The minute he took her, bound her to him forever, she had no doubt the promises he’d made would be forgotten. She could not be so foolish or weak again. She had to be more cunning and more careful than this warrior before her, for if she was not, her dream of marrying for love would be lost forever.

“Come.” Grant took her hand, and when she tried to pull away, his fingers curled more tightly around hers. “Ye gave yer vow, remember?”

“Bah,” she groused, but she did not attempt to pull away from him. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a featherlight kiss there that made her tremor. Then, with another wicked smile, he released his hold on her, though the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and the desire he’d stirred thoroughly heated her. She felt branded. He turned, strode to the great hall door, and cheerfully beckoned everyone in for their wedding. She studied his broad back that tapered to slim hips and strong legs. Heaven help her, he was handsome. She had given her word, and she was a woman who kept her promises. She’d simply have to find a way to avoid him and not break her word. Surely it could not be that hard?

Putting distance between her and her husband— her husband for now , Eve mentally corrected herself with a gulp—was proving much more difficult than she’d imagined. Grant was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. Or wed , she thought hysterically, nearly laughing at her horrible humor. Yet, it was either find humor in the situation or cry.

As Grant’s stallion pounded over the uneven terrain toward the convent, Eve could do little more than sit rigidly and try not to lean into the man she’d wed. Her mind drifted to Clara and rescuing her, and then to her sister and finding her. But as the day and the distance wore on, she was finding it harder and harder to keep a stiff, straight spine. Grant’s solid chest beckoned to her aching back. If only they would stop for a rest. Before they’d all set out for the convent, he’d said that they would halt at nightfall and sleep until daybreak, and Eve found herself looking hopefully at the sky, which had gone from sunny to lovely shades of purples and grays. Night was descending, and none too fast enough for her.

As the stallion raced across the countryside, Eve could not decide what pained her more: her aching bottom, back, or head. She was positive that if she’d been allowed to ride a horse by herself, she would have been much more comfortable, but Grant had flatly refused her request. He’d told her in front of all his men that he could not be bothered with worrying about her keeping pace, so she would ride with him.

Keeping pace! She was an excellent rider, and she would have had no trouble keeping pace if only he’d given her the opportunity. It infuriated her. She could never stay wed to a man who did not think women capable, and it seemed that was the sort of man Grant was—or guilt had made him into, at least. She could not help but recall the story Esme had told her of Grant teaching his mother how to wield a sword. Perhaps he felt such responsibility for his mother’s death that he had taken the opposite views he’d once had on women. Eve’s anger abated a little as the suspicion sank in that it was guilt and fear for the women under his care that led him to be overly protective.

Finally, Grant held up his hand and whistled for them to halt, and immediately, Kade and Ross slowed their destriers. Eve wanted to weep with relief, but she was determined not to show Grant how tired she was, especially when he didn’t seem the least bit weary from the journey. He guided their horse into a clearing surrounded by trees and rocks, and he quickly dismounted. Then he reached up and before Eve even knew his intentions, his hands were about her waist and he was pulling her off the horse.

“I can dismount myself,” she objected.

“It’s been a long journey, Eve,” he replied, setting her on the ground but not releasing his hold on her. Though his concern was touching, it was also irritating, and her lack of sleep and growling stomach did make her temper short.

She swatted at his hands. “I’ve been managing just fine for eighteen summers before I met you. I do not need, nor want, your help, so please release me.”

Without a word, he did as she asked. She took a step away from him, and her legs promptly buckled. She fell to the grass with a thud that jarred her entire body and sent a spike of pain to her head. With a groan, she looked up just in time to see a torch flame to life and then Grant kneel in front of her. He had a distinctly amused look upon his face.

“You could have caught me!” she accused.

“Aye.” Laughter underlay his tone, and snickers came from Ross and Kade behind him. “I could have,” Grant confirmed. The flames flickered near his face, illuminating him. A half smirk stretched his lips and his eyebrows were arched. “Ye did say ye did nae want my help.”

“It’s not well done of you to point that out,” she grumbled. “Clearly, I had no idea my legs would buckle.”

“Clearly, ye did nae,” he agreed, raising the torch above his head. Ross bent down to take it from Grant. Suddenly, his arms slid around her, and he pulled her to her feet so quickly that she gasped. One of his arms tightened around her waist and brought her closer to him while his fingers curled into her skin. He brought his other hand to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. She sucked in a sharp breath as he said, “I kenned yer legs would likely buckle, but ye did nae wish to listen to me. It’s important to ken yer limits.”

They stood face-to-face, the length of his hard body pressed against hers, and her breath caught with the desire he stirred in her, desire she could not afford to feel. She cleared her throat and leaned away from him as much as his embrace would allow. “What are your weaknesses?”

A long silence stretched between them, and she decided he was not going to answer. But then he inhaled deeply and said, “Lairds dunnae have weaknesses.”

She suspected sons of lairds were not supposed to have them, either, and at one time, Grant did not care for that. “That’s a heavy weight to bear,” she murmured.

“Aye,” he said, releasing her. “It is. Now come. We’ll eat a bit and then sleep.”

Grant found himself repeatedly glancing at Eve as she ate beside him. Flames and shadows flickered on her face, making her look at once fierce and fragile. A strong wave of protectiveness rolled inside him, making his heart thump against his ribs. Eve was now his responsibility, just as his family and clan were. He could never forget that, despite how independent his new wife was, she had to be shielded, even from herself and her own reckless impulses, as he’d failed to do with his mother. He had to control for her what she would not, as he’d failed to do with his mother. Not only that but Grant feared the trouble Eve and Esme might get into together. He’d have to speak with Esme when they returned to the keep. In truth, it was probably time to marry off Esme, but Grant had hoped she would reconcile herself to a woman’s true lot before the time came. He worried she’d wed a man she could bend or manipulate to her will, just as his mother had bent Grant to her will when he’d been young and foolish, but he would choose her husband wisely, a man who would tolerate no disobedience to his command, just as Grant would not, could not. A weak man would not do for Esme, and he feared she’d end up like their mother if she was wed to a man who did not control Esme’s desire to wield a sword and fight with the warriors.

“Wine?” Ross offered Eve and held out the wine skin to her.

When Eve bent forward to reach for it, her léine parted to reveal the upper swell of her breasts. Desire hardened Grant, and he instantly recalled the silky feel of her breasts against his hands and his mouth. His innocent wife, so fearful of their joining that she’d begged him to wait, had a great deal of lust in her that he eagerly anticipated unleashing. He had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning. He considered it a definite boon that he was so attracted to her. With a little care tonight, he fully intended to show her more passion, and before they reached his home again, he was certain they would be joined.

Just as Eve’s fingers touched the wine skin, Ross jerked it away with a laugh. Eve sprang up quicker than he’d ever seen someone move and snatched the wine skin back before he had a chance to bring it close. Kade burst out laughing, and Grant assessed his wife, who was drinking greedily from the wine skin while smiling.

“Ye’re verra fast,” Ross said, finally recovering.

“Thank you.” Eve beamed. “Every summer for eight years I trained with the Summer Walkers, and before that, my father had taught me to wield a sword and a dagger.”

Grant could not stop the groan that escaped him, and Eve turned to him with a frown. “You don’t think a woman should be taught how to defend herself?” Her gentle tone surprised him. He would have expected her to be angry, but she sounded less irked and more understanding. Then it dawned on him that Esme must have spoken of his past to Eve. He had to work to unclench his teeth to respond to her.

“If a woman could be taught to defend herself only when trouble came to her and there was no one to help her, then aye, I’d be wholeheartedly in favor of women learning to protect themselves. The problem is,” he said, purposely eyeing her, “that women are reckless and impulsive. They act afore they think, and once they feel adept with weapons, they falsely believe themselves invincible.”

She surprised him again by setting a hand on his bicep. The innocent touch stirred his desire for her dangerously. Her slender fingers curled gently around his arm, and her eyes, brimming with tenderness, met his. “I’m certain that is not what your mother thought.”

He stiffened at the confirmation that Esme had, indeed, been speaking of that which she ought not to have. “Ye kinnae ken that, Eve. Ye did nae even ken my mother.”

“No,” she said softly, “I did not. But I am a woman who has been taught to wield a weapon, and in no way does it make me think I’m invincible. It makes me feel less helpless, but I’m very aware of the fragility of life. I watched my father be butchered before my eyes. I saw my mother lying in a pool of her own blood. My mother had no skills with weapons. If she had…”

“If she had,” Grant finished for her, “she likely would have died anyway. My mother did have skills, which I showed her.” He could hear the intensity in his own voice, and he paused. He had not meant to say so much, to offer such a glimpse into himself. “Those skills did nae do anything but make her think she could go to the aid of our enemy with nary a defense but her sword.”

Eve withdrew her hand and settled it in her lap. “You cannot keep the women in your life protected at all times, Grant.”

“I can try.”

“Women should be in the kitchens,” Ross piped up.

“Aye,” Kade agreed, “where it’s safe.”

Color rose in Eve’s cheeks, and she jolted to her feet. “My mother was supposedly safe in our castle, you stubborn, foolish men!” Eve plunked her hands on her hips and swept Grant, Ross, and Kade with a fiery gaze. “What if your women were attacked when you were not around? Or what if they were attacked when they were with you? Would you wish them helpless? Unable to defend themselves or help you?”

“I will protect what is mine,” Grant said, feeling his own irritation rise, yet his vexation was not entirely aimed at Eve. She was asking the same questions Grant had long ago asked his father when his mother had first requested to learn how to use weapons. His father had made the same argument that Grant was now making to Eve, and Grant had ignored his father and aided his mother. Age-old torment twisted inside his chest. The doubts, the questions, the guilt came crashing back down upon him like a giant wave. He’d once believed just as Eve did, but his mother’s death had taught him he should have listened to his father.

Grant stood, towering above Eve. He looked down at his new wife. He didn’t know what skills she had, but whatever they were, he did not want them making her bold. He wanted her cautious, because a cautious woman was a living woman. “I forbid ye from ever using yer knowledge of weapons.”

“You forbid me?”

He’d not particularly wanted to have this conversation in front of Kade and Ross, but have it, he would. “Aye, I forbid ye.”

“Let me make certain I understand you… If someone attacked us this very night, you would want me to sit there cowering, or hide, or watch you get killed when I could pick up a sword or a dagger and save myself and you?”

Her snide tone was not lost on him, and neither were her well-raised points. He jerked his hand through his hair. Esme had been much easier to force obedience from for the last six years since their father’s and mother’s deaths than his new wife was proving to be in the two days since they had met. His fear of what trouble Eve could get herself into warred with his understanding that what she said made sense; yet, when he pictured his mother’s and his father’s bodies as they’d been laid shamefully on the road up to Dithorn Castle, fear won out. “You will not cower. Ever. You are a Fraser now. There is a difference between cowering and being safe.”

Eve scoffed, then poked him in the chest. “There is little difference if choosing not to pick up arms means being killed. Listen to me, Grant Fraser . If your sister was about to be ravaged, and all that stood between her and defilement was a dagger, you would want her to pick up that dagger and plunge it into her attacker’s heart.”

Devil take the woman! He would want that. “Fine,” he growled. “If ever ye are under attack and I kinnae come to yer aid, pick up arms, but dunnae go courting trouble.”

She grinned up at him, and the upper region of his chest, near his heart, squeezed into a tight ball. “I’m pleased to see you can be reasonable. Might I have a dagger or a sword?”

“Nay!” he snapped, keenly aware he’d just fought a battle with his new wife and lost.

She nodded. “All in due time, I suppose.” Eve plunked back down, but before she got all the way settled, she yelped, and in the flash of light from the fire, Grant saw why.

Without hesitation, he lunged for the snake that was coiled to strike Eve and smacked it in midair. Fangs sank into his arm like a well-placed blade and sliced open his flesh with a sharp sting that instantly made his arm feel as if someone was bludgeoning it with a large rock.

He flung the snake up into the air, and with his good hand, he grasped his dagger and sliced the head off the serpent. It fell to the ground with a thunk . Grant looked to the grass, trying to focus on the unmoving snake, but the ground tilted and his stomach roiled, and then he was sitting in the dirt with no idea how he’d gotten there. Eve kneeled beside him, worry etched on her face.

“You’ve been bitten,” she said, her concern clear in her tone, as well.

“Aye,” he replied, the word seeming to draw out for an eternity. “I feel it.”

Eve grabbed his arm as Kade and Ross kneeled alongside her. She set his now-numb hand against her knees and ripped at the material of her léine, growling her frustration.

“What are ye trying to do?” he asked, though God’s truth, it was hard to form the words with how sick he felt. He swallowed repeatedly to keep the contents of his stomach in place as sweat trickled down his brow and back.

“I’m trying to help you, you daft man. You may count your blessings that I’m not a helpless woman.” With that, she turned to Ross and snapped, “Rip my léine,” before focusing on Grant again.

Grant somehow found a way to chuckle at the irony of her claiming not to be helpless and then demanding Ross rip her léine. He forced his eyes to narrow as he met Ross’s.

“Grant?” Ross asked.

“If ye tear my wife’s clothing, I’ll rip out yer heart,” Grant growled.

“Do not listen to him, Ross,” she ordered. “I need the strip of cloth to stop the spread of the venom. And I need it now .”

“Venom?” he repeated, surprised at her knowledge.

She nodded, pointing at the body of the snake. Ross still hadn’t made a move to help her. “If you are not going to tear a strip from my léine,” she said firmly, “then you must take one from your plaid.”

The ripping of material filled the air as Eve focused once more on Grant. “’Tis an adder, which is venomous, but you won’t die.”

“Hold in yer disappointment, aye, lass?” he managed to joke despite the throbbing pain.

She smiled at him as she started to wind a strip of Ross’s plaid around Grant’s arm. “I certainly would not be pleased if you died,” she said, tying the material so tightly around his bicep that he hissed. She frowned. “Just because I do not wish to be your wife does not mean I want you dead. Especially since you just took a snakebite for me.”

“Dunnae that at least make ye like me a little more?” he teased, trying to flex his fingers and failing on a wave of pain. “I’m going to toss all my food,” he grumbled.

“Ross, Kade, do either of you have any wine?”

“Aye,” both men answered at once, and they each thrust their wine skins toward her. Eve took one of the skins and pressed it gently to his lips. “Drink this for the pain.”

He was only too happy to do as he was bid. When the last drop of wine was emptied from the skin, Eve took it. Then, much to his surprise, she bent forward and sealed her mouth over his wound. “What the devil are ye doing?” he demanded, reaching for her shoulder. Without coming up, she smacked his hand away. After a moment, she came to a seated position, then turned and spit.

When she faced him again, she wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “I had to suck out the venom,” she said, matter-of-fact.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grant saw Ross and Kade staring dumbfounded at Eve. Likely, he looked the same way. “How did ye learn to do that?” he asked.

“The Summer Walkers,” she replied. “Ross, might I see your wine skin?”

“Do ye wish a drink now, too?” Ross asked.

“Don’t be daft,” Eve said, then snatched the flask Ross held out to her and dumped the contents over Grant’s arm, ignoring Ross’s protests. Eve scowled at him. “Grant needs his wound cleaned. Would you rather have wine than your friend keep his arm?”

“Well, that was awfully good wine,” Ross teased, winking at Grant when Eve was not looking. She gasped, which only served to prompt Ross to continue. “I suppose,” he went on, catching Grant’s eye, “if ye only had one good arm, ye’d be a bigger pain in my arse.”

“That’s a horrid thing to say!” Eve bellowed. “Grant—” she leaned close to him, the smell of freesia surrounding him “—you need to find better friends.”

He had to rip his gaze from her enticing curves, and when he saw her angry scowl directed at Ross, Grant smiled, pleased that his wife was the sort of woman who was loyal to her husband. “He’s only teasing ye, bean bhàsail .”

“I told you,” she said, huffing as she situated herself beside him and then, with a gentle pull on his shoulder, indicated her lap, “I’m no temptress.”

He eyed her lap. “Ye wish me to lay my head in yer lap?” She nodded. “And ye claim yer nae a temptress,” he teased. Kade and Ross chuckled.

“Oh, do hush. You need sleep so your body can properly fight the venom.” With that, she shoved his head in her soft lap and trailed her fingers lightly over his shoulder. He was certain she did not even realize what she was doing, because if she knew and understood how his body was responding, he was certain her fear of joining would make her stop. To his surprise, after a few moments, lust loosened its grip on him and was quickly replaced with grogginess.

“Sing to me, lass,” he said, closing his eyes, reminded suddenly of long ago and how his mother would sing to him whenever he had trouble sleeping.

Eve began to sing, her voice flowing over him with its richness as her fingers ran through his hair. His last thought before he drifted to sleep was that she was his to protect and he could not fail in the duty. Yet, the certainty that the greatest threat to Eve was his stubborn wife herself would not release him from its grip.