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Chapter Ten

“How did ye do that?” Ross whispered to Eve.

She looked down at Grant’s relaxed face nestled in her lap, and her heart tugged unexpectedly. She sucked in a breath, but because she felt Ross’s keen gaze on her, she forced her thoughts away from the surge of emotion for Grant and concentrated on the Highlander staring at her. “It was not truly me that did it. The poison attacks the body, and now his body is fighting off any lingering traces of the venom that I could not remove. That leaves him exhausted.”

“Ah,” Kade said, nodding. “That explains it. I dunnae think I’ve ever seen Grant sleep when duty calls.”

“But that’s impossible,” Eve protested. “No man can go without sleep.”

“I’ve seen him sleep,” Ross said in a low, confident tone as he lay on his plaid and faced them. “In the middle of battle, he sleeps sitting up. Ye kinnae even whisper beside him without him awakening. He is always at the ready to put himself in peril, to do what he must for the good of the clan.”

All three of them looked at Grant, and his response was a loud snore, which made Eve giggle. She slapped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her? Her brain must have been addled on the jarring ride here. Grant Fraser had wed her to use her. He just wanted her help in swaying the knights who guarded Linlithian Castle and getting them to pledge their loyalty him. He was obstinate. He was overbearing. He would expect her, as his wife, to bend to his will. A will that included her never taking up arms unless she had no choice, because a threat could not be avoided.

Yet, she had discovered that he was so overly protective out of fear and guilt born from a tragedy in his past. He was honorable, she believed. She did not think many men would have waited to join with her and make their marriage true, yet Grant had agreed to wait. He was brave. He had risked his life for her without hesitation or thought. And he was a very good kisser. Or at least she thought he was. Since he was the only man she’d ever kissed, she supposed she did not know for certain, but she’d lost all her senses when he’d kissed her. All she’d wanted to do was kiss him back, the man she’d wed with no intention of remaining his wife. She wasn’t supposed to like him, but she did. Yet, no amount of liking or desire changed the fact that he did not want her for her, but for her castle, and she wanted more from her marriage than that.

If she was smart, she would scoot out from under him, put a safe distance between them, and pray that she could somehow maintain that distance until she had Clara, and they could devise an escape plan. But as a scowl tugged Grant’s brows together in his sleep, she found herself rubbing his forehead lightly until his frown disappeared. Desire to learn more about him began to gnaw at her.

“Has he always been so concerned with the clan’s welfare?” she asked, turning to Ross. Guilt niggled her for the leading question, yet she left it floating in the air between them. She wanted to learn more about Grant, but she certainly did not want his friends to realize she wanted to learn more. It made her feel vulnerable, and there was nothing she disliked more than that. She mollified herself with the thought that just because she was not planning on staying married to the man, it did not mean she should not discover all she could about him.

Grant could someday be an ally. Or, she thought with a sense of dread, what if he was someday an enemy? She likely already should consider him her enemy since he was a Scot, and a Highlander at that. Her uncle was the King of England’s man, according to Grant, and Highlanders had killed her family.

“He was raised to put the clan first and maintain discipline always, even as a child and young lad,” Ross said. “Though when he was a young lad, he fought against the strictures his father demanded. He was nae to be carefree but restrained.”

“He and Simon were to train every day with the warriors,” Kade added, “then an extra two hours after the warriors quit for the day.”

Ross nodded. “They were also nae to join with any lass but the ones they were promised to for the good of the clan.”

“Grant was promised to another lass?” Eve asked, surprised to hear the news.

“Oh aye. But it dissolved when he openly chastised the lass for hitting her lady’s maid. The wench took exception and persuaded her father to break the contract. The lass is Aros MacDougal’s sister. She’s wed to a Comyn now, and the Comyns are loyal to King Edward.” Ross paused, and both men suddenly eyed her warily. She was certain they were wondering where her loyalties lay. She could not say, since she hardly knew herself. Ross cleared his throat. “The MacDougalls took the Comyns’ side when John Comyn was killed by Bruce. The men were in an argument, and Comyn tried to stab Bruce, so Bruce defended himself. Anyway, Aros and his father sided with the Comyn family and against Bruce because of the connection to their family.”

Ross eyed Eve for a long, silent minute, and she got the distinct feeling he was trying to convey something to her or expected her to make a connection, but she wasn’t. “And?” she asked tentatively.

“And King Robert told Grant recently, after the king had to flee, that the MacDougalls would likely still be his allies if Grant had done his duty and ensured his wedding proceeded with the MacDougall lass, whether she was a heartless, immoral wench or nae.” Ross ran a hand through his hair and stared silently into the dark night. “Bruce was angry, of course, at his own circumstances, and took it out on Grant, we all kenned that, but I think it’s stayed in Grant’s mind, like a splinter that’s worked its way deep under the skin.

The connection finally formed in Eve’s mind. This marriage to her was Grant’s way of making up to the king and his father for his perceived failure when he did not marry a woman he’d seen as cruel. Sympathy coursed through her. She could not afford sympathy, understanding, and desire, but it was all blossoming nevertheless. She clenched her jaw and tried to will her heart to stay cold and still, but the blasted thing squeezed within her. If she fled him, his king would think Grant had once again failed him. Grant would believe it, as well.

“’Tis a heavy burden he carries,” Kade said, “but his marriage to ye will help alleviate it. The king will be most pleased when Grant takes Linlithian Castle for him.”

“Shut yer mouth,” Ross snapped, but he was too late. Kade’s words were potent reminders of what she already knew. Grant had wed her to ease his guilt and fulfill his duty. Love could not blossom from that.

“I’m very tired,” she said, needing to put some distance between them now. “Could one of you help me ease Grant off my lap? I’d like to lie down.”

Kade nodded and quickly aided her in sliding out from under Grant. He started to take off his plaid.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Kade motioned to the ground. “Making a pallet for ye. Grant would nae wish ye to sleep on the dirt, and we dunnae travel with blankets.”

She didn’t particularly want to sleep on the ground, either, but she was not going to force Kade to do so in her stead. “Keep your plaid for yourself. The ground will not kill me.” With that, she moved to the only empty space around the dying fire, lay down, and closed her eyes. The ground was cold and hard, and there was barely any heat coming from the fire anymore. The temperature had dropped, and the breeze had picked up. She was certain sleep would never come, but Grant’s steady snoring was like a sleeping draught, and soon her eyelids grew heavy and oblivion claimed her.

The need to relieve herself dragged Eve from her slumber. As she struggled to come fully awake, she became aware of two things: someone had her wrapped in his very sturdy arms, and she was no longer lying on the ground. Well, she was on the ground, but something soft was under her and covering her. She blinked her eyes open and gasped. Grant’s face was a hairsbreadth from hers, and there was just enough moonlight that she could clearly see that his eyes were wide open and intently upon her.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, careful to keep a hushed tone, the sound of snoring coming at her from both Ross and Kade.

“Since ye fell asleep,” he said in a low voice.

Eve frowned. “Were you awake when I was talking with Ross and Kade?”

“Nay. I suppose when ye quit talking, when I could nae hear ye any longer and ken ye were safe and near, it eventually woke me.”

His words and what they meant struck her to her core. She didn’t know what to say. She was touched—and confused. He’d wed her only because of Linlithian, but his actions kept showing honor and kindness, the sort of things she’d hoped to gain from a marriage of love. She swallowed, and her bladder reminded her of why she’d woken. “I need a private moment,” she whispered, hoping he’d understand.

“I’ll accompany ye,” he said, unwinding his arms from her, but she grasped him by the hand before he broke all contact.

Her face heated, but she forced herself to try to be clearer. “I, er, would rather you did not. You see, I—”

“Dunnae fash yerself, lass,” he said with a low chuckle. “I dunnae intend to watch ye. Just stand guard and be near should ye need me.”

“Oh.” She found herself smiling at him. “That’s very considerate of you.”

His fingers curled snugly around her hand, and he pulled her to her feet so fast that when she came up, she was propelled forward into his hard chest with an oof.

His arms circled her and his lips brushed her ear, making her shiver. His warm breath caressed her skin as he said, “’Tis nae considerate. ’Tis my duty. Ye are my wife now.”

Some of the warm feelings his actions had given her dissipated. Duty. Of course she was merely a duty. “You may release me,” she said. “I can hardly walk with you clutching me so.”

“That is likely true,” he said with a chuckle and relinquished his hold on her waist, only to immediately take her hand. When she tried to tug her hand away, he simply increased his grip and started to walk around the fire toward the woods.

“Is it your duty to hold my hand, too?” she asked, feeling mulish. To her, holding someone’s hand was an intimate gesture and not one of duty.

“Aye,” he said, walking slightly ahead of her to lead her. “If ye trip and injure yerself, ye will slow us down. I’d rather nae contend with that.”

She glared at his back as they walked, unsure why it bothered her so much that everything he did for her that indicated a degree of affection was, by his own admission, done out of duty. Suddenly it hit her that he was bare chested. “Did you cover me with your plaid?” she asked.

“Aye,” he replied without stopping or looking back.

“Because of duty?” she surmised.

“Aye. Ye could have caught yer death, and I need ye alive.”

“Of course,” she muttered, clenching her teeth. “You require me alive in order to sway my men, the men of Linlithian Castle, to accept you and pledge their loyalty to you!” They were far enough away from Kade and Ross now, and into the thick of the woods, that she did not rein in the anger in her voice. She was seething, and she didn’t care if he knew it. The only indication that the stubborn Scot even heard her was his fingers tightening ever so slightly around her hand. For some reason, it increased her vexation tenfold.

She dug in her heels, leaned away from the direction he was leading her, and threw her words at him like stones, wishing they’d whack him in the head like a big rock. “I’ll have you know, if you intend to seduce a lady into doing your bidding, you might think not to tell her at every turn that she is nothing more to you than a duty!” She gasped at the sudden understanding that his words had hurt her, had injured her pride.

He stopped in his tracks, and she collided with his back, losing her breath and her footing in the same instant. She flailed her arms to gain balance, and just when she was certain she’d fall, he whipped toward her and clutched her by the wrists, pulling her body tightly to his. Then his hand skimmed up her midriff, over her breasts, and splayed across her chest. The shock of his touch, of the desire he ignited, caused her blood to course through her veins like a wild river.

“Ye were eavesdropping,” he accused.

“I wasn’t,” she lied. She was a fool for letting her temper take control of her tongue.

His teeth flashed white and wolfish in the dark of the night. “Dunnae bother lying. The pitch of yer voice rose ever so slightly, as I’ve told ye, and I ken my sister’s eavesdropping ways.”

“Well, I know that you do not desire me at all! You simply want me to bend to your will, and you…” She poked him in the chest. “You are so dishonorable that you would…you would…” she sputtered, so angry that her words were jumbled in her head, “you would steal my innocence!”

“Ye are my wife,” he said, exasperation tingeing his words. “Yer innocence is mine to take. It would nae be stealing. And when I take it, it will be because ye gave it freely, willingly—”

“Never,” she said, allowing the force of her anger to come through in the one word. She took a deep breath to blast him with more of her vexation, but she was suddenly lifted up, her feet dangling off the ground and her mouth brought directly to his. Before she could protest, his lips, hard and searching, sealed over hers for a demanding kiss. His tongue twined with hers and desire coiled in her belly.

Fear caused her to whimper, and immediately, her feet touched ground, he broke the kiss, and tremors surged through him so strong that she could feel them in his hands. “God’s blood,” he whispered, the regret in his voice undeniable.

She brought her own shaking hand to her tender lips, a coil of confusing emotions unraveling inside her. She hated him, but she didn’t hate him at all. She’d been scared, but of her instantaneous lustful response to his ravishing kiss, not of him. For even laced with anger as it had been, she could feel that he’d been careful not to hurt her. She ought to let him think he had; perhaps then he’d keep his distance until she could escape him. Yet, she did not want him to have one more reason to punish himself. “Your kiss—”

His mouth claimed hers again, reverently, tenderly, begging forgiveness. His kiss shattered the last bit of control she possessed. This time, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to match the hunger she tasted from him. His demanding lips caressed and cajoled her to part her own, and she did so with wanton eagerness, whimpering with desire when his tongue thrust into her mouth. Their tongues mingled, tempted, and danced until Grant growled and broke the kiss, only to bring his lips to the pulsing hollow at the base of her neck. She hissed with need as he blazed a fiery path across her collarbone to the valley between her breasts, which grew instantly tight in anticipation.

He stopped his onslaught of passion as quickly as he’d begun it, leaving her panting with yearning. As he moved away from her skin and gazed into her eyes, a knowing light glimmered there. “I wed ye for duty, aye, but I desire ye, and ye desire me, too.”

Never had she felt so exposed, so vulnerable. “I don’t.” She shook her head for emphasis. Her words sounded utterly ridiculous after the way she’d responded to his kiss. She was no more than someone to sate his lust, and she’d not be that for him or any man.

He snorted. “Yer words dunnae match what yer body tells me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, determined not to let him make her lose her senses ever again. “My body—and my voice—is telling you no . Will you throw me on the forest floor here and now to satisfy your lust?” she taunted. She was playing a dangerous game, but it seemed the only way. “Will you ravage me?”

A disgusted look crossed his face. “I told ye I would nae, but ye will eventually yield, Eve, and we will truly be man and wife. Yer body will nae deny me for long, I vow it.”

He was so arrogant that she wanted to throttle him, but mostly, she was fearful he was right. She was surely wanton, for she desired him with every fiber of her being, despite him admitting that he was using her. She couldn’t stay wed to a man like that. Hope had kept her alive thus far, and that hope had been kept bright by two things: the desire to one day have a love like her parents had possessed, and the yearning for vengeance. Grant was not offering either, and she did not think he ever could, given his past. It was best for her if they parted ways, and soon.

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