Six

Six

“We’re on Gordon land,” Marcus said, but Bhaic knew his brother well. He was saying what had to be said, even though he didn’t care for it.

“He’s got me wife,” Bhaic cut back.

“Tied up, too.” Marcus had a small spyglass in hand as he considered the men below them. “Not to mention a couple of other lasses. He’ll still cry innocence when it’s all said and done.”

“Only if he’s alive.”

Waiting for true darkness took a long time. The moon was only a sliver in the sky. The perfect time for raiding. It was also the perfect time for an ambush. Bhaic eased closer, stopping often as he watched the horses tied up near the camp. If it wasn’t for the captives, he’d have ridden into the camp and cut them down. But Lye Rob was no fool. Neither were his men. Some of them had rolled up in their plaids, right next to the women. The fighting was going to be hard if they wanted to avoid spilling innocent blood.

He looked back at the horses and eased closer.

* * *

Lye Rob was getting drunk.

Ailis watched him tip a leather flagon up to his lips again and again. The other men with him had drink, but they took only a few sips to warm themselves. They knew better than to dull their wits.

Lye Rob? Well, he was obviously accustomed to having others look out for him.

She shivered and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the circumstances that had prevented her from falling under the spell of the man. The courtship would have been grand, but the union a horror. More than one bride learned the true nature of her husband after the vows were spoken.

She shifted and realized the knots Naughton had tied were all loose. She had to hold onto the rope to keep it around her wrists. The fire had started to dry her, making her aware of all the dirt on her skin. She wanted to scratch and brush it off but had to remain still. She lowered her head to her bent knees and watched Lye Rob through her eyelashes.

He was looking at her, tipping the flagon again. His lips set into a smirk. He suddenly flipped his kilt up, exposing his swollen organ. She flinched, turning her head away.

“Knew ye were toying with me,” Lye Rob said.

She heard his steps crunching the gravel on the ground as he came closer. His breath smelled of whisky when he hunched down beside her.

“Ye’ll learn to enjoy me cock.” He reached up and caught a handful of her hair. He yanked her head up so that their lips were only an inch apart. “Since I have to wait until ye bleed, I’m going to enjoy fucking yer mouth first.”

She gasped with horror. He held her in place as his words sank in.

“Has yer husband no’ gotten to that little delight?”

She tried to shake her head, but the hold on her hair was too painful. Lye Rob snickered.

“He would have. A pair of lips around the cock is just as sweet as shoving deep into a cunt.”

He yanked his kilt up, exposing himself again. “It’s a fine way to start our relationship, Ailis.”

She turned away in spite of the pain shooting through her scalp, but he only tightened his grip, yanking her around. She reached for the dagger, pulling it free. One of the horses screamed in the distance. Lye Rob straightened and dragged her up in front of him, pressed a dagger against her throat as the camp was overrun.

She wanted to be relieved at the sight of the MacPhersons, but Lye Rob dug the tip of his dagger into her skin.

“I’ll slit her throat!”

Bhaic pulled up out of the lunge he’d been in. She’d always known he had a savage side. Tonight, she faced it. He’d sheathed his sword in favor of his long dagger. Its blade was already bloodied, but the look in his eyes made it clear that what he truly craved was Lye Rob’s blood.

It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

Lye Rob was twisting the knife, cutting into her neck. She could feel his heart hammering against her back as panic set in. Around them, men were dying, but it seemed insignificant, fading away as she became conscious of the details.

Like the feeling of the knife in her hand. She let the rope drop to the ground. Bhaic noticed it. He gave her only a fraction of a glance, but she knew he noticed.

He lifted his hand higher, drawing Lye Rob’s attention. “Leave now, Lye Rob. Let me wife go, and I’ll get off yer land.”

“If I let her live, how long before the Robertsons and the MacPhersons unite and overrun Gordon land?”

He was dragging her backward, looking over his shoulder for an escape route. His voice was tense, telling one and all that his grip on reality was slipping.

Marcus appeared behind them. “Let her go,” he warned softly.

Lye Rob turned to look at Marcus. Ailis tightened her grip on the dagger and drove it into his neck. She couldn’t see her target, but she felt his blood covering her hand. Bhaic was a blur of motion, springing on them and grabbing the knife at her throat. She fell down, blood flowing over her shoulder before someone grasped her wrist and yanked her free of the fight.

She looked up into Finley’s face, his expression harder than she’d ever seen it. No hint of the playful buffoon he’d so often appeared.

“Up with ye now, mistress.”

He lifted her off her feet and set her behind him. She looked around him. Bhaic had Lye Rob on the ground, his hands wrapped around his throat. It was a violent struggle, both men powerful, but Lye Rob was losing. The smell of his blood was everywhere, and his body went taut a moment before he went limp.

Bhaic snarled something in Gaelic, squeezing Lye Rob’s throat a few final times before Marcus was able to pull him off the body. He turned, searching for her. She stumbled around Finley, suddenly feeling every ache.

But being in his embrace soothed it all away. He trapped her against him, muttering against her hair. She buried her face against him, inhaling the scent of his skin. He cupped her face, raising her head so he could look at her. For a long moment, he just looked at her, the hands on the side of her face trembling just the tiniest bit.

“Ye can nae go riding alone.”

She let out a snort. It was unladylike, but she was far past caring about appearances. “As if I could nae come to that conclusion meself.”

“She might look rough about the edges, but she sounds right,” Marcus said. “What do ye want to do with the survivors?”

Bhaic turned her loose, but kept her close with one solid grip on her wrist. The camp was in shambles. Bodies were slumped to the ground, the female captives freed. The surviving Gordons were herded together, the MacPhersons holding them under guard. Bloodlust was still running high.

She suddenly saw Naughton. His shoulder was bloodied, but the older man stood proudly, his chest puffed out as his fate was being decided.

Ailis curled in toward Bhaic. “Ye have to let that one with the silver beard go. He gave me the knife.”

Bhaic looked down at her in confusion. She nodded. “No one chooses what clan they are born into.”

“Aye.”

He leaned over to discuss it with Marcus. Her brother-in-law cut her a curious look before he nodded.

She suddenly felt every scrape and bruise. Bhaic and Marcus moved off to deal with the Gordons as Finley stayed near, clearly resuming his post as her escort. She looked down and realized the rope was still knotted around one of her ankles. She sank down, intending to work the knot free, but her hands were covered in blood.

She stared at it, starting to shake.

Her belly twisted with nausea.

For some reason, her back felt on fire.

And she was unable to focus on anything.

“Here now, mistress.”

She ended up staring at Finley’s head in confusion as he gently brushed her hands away and finished untying the knot.

“Since when do ye call me mistress?” She probably shouldn’t have asked the question, but she couldn’t think. Couldn’t seem to stop shaking either. She didn’t wait for Finley to reply but became fixated on the blood on her hands.

“Did I kill him?”

“I did.” Bhaic was suddenly there, scooping her off the ground. “Do nae think about it, lass. Ye did what ye had to.”

He carried her over to the wagon, settling her in a spot that had been cleared. The other women were there, relief on their faces, but all Ailis could do was shake. She tried to unbuckle her belt and free her arisaid.

Bhaic ended up doing it for her. He lifted her again, and she sighed, the scent of his skin the only stable thing she could grasp. “Ye found me.”

He held her for a moment, their gazes locked. “Ye’re me wife.”

“But—”

He settled her back down among the grain bundles. She rolled onto her side because her back was still on fire. He tucked her tattered arisaid around her.

“I’m no’ letting ye sleep on Gordon land.”

He smoothed the hair back from her face, considering her for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes. Something that both warmed her and made her shiver. He removed the brooch holding his plaid onto his shoulder. He used a dagger from his belt and rent the fabric, tearing off the half that he might use to shield his shoulders from the night’s chill. He laid it out on top of her, satisfaction showing on his face as the MacPherson colors covered her Robertson ones.

She started to say something, but he pressed a single fingertip against her lips to silence her.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

He was gone a moment later, his powerful stride holding her attention as she watched him mount and raise his hand to bring his men into line.

“He’s a fair bit more attractive than the tales I’ve heard.”

Ailis turned her head to look at the Robertson woman who had been one of the captives. She was young, not much more than a girl really. She smiled at Ailis as the wagon started moving, the MacPherson retainers surrounding it.

“Never thought I’d be happy to be traveling with MacPhersons,” she said.

“I am,” Ailis said as she started to slip away. She didn’t fight against the darkness, letting it envelop her and snuff out the pain.

But she was glad.

Very glad indeed.

* * *

She knew his scent.

Ailis sighed and rubbed her cheek against Bhaic. She felt as if she was floating or rolling around inside a cloud. There was daylight and darkness and voices that were far away. Time seemed impossible to grasp, and honestly, she just didn’t want to.

And sometimes there was Bhaic.

Or maybe not.

She wasn’t really sure.

* * *

“It was only a little fever,” Ailis said firmly.

“As if I’d be willing to risk yer health because ye were fortunate,” Helen said, still standing in front of the chamber door.

“Ye were very fortunate,” Senga said softly from where she was changing the bed sheets with Elise. The young Robertson had been there when Ailis woke up, settling in with Helen.

Now that her head was clear, Ailis looked toward Senga. “Are ye sure ye wish to stay?”

Senga stopped and let Elise finish. “I’ve no home to go back to. The Gordons burned it and killed me father. Even if I were to rebuild it, how would I protect meself? Besides, I’ve no intention of arguing with the good Lord’s will. He sent me father’s enemies to rescue me. So, I think yer marriage is what he’s wanting.” She smiled. “I’ll prove meself to ye, mistress.”

Elise bit her lip, obviously realizing she’d lost her opportunity to secure a higher position in the household. Now, she was a chambermaid, holding stacks of fresh linens for Senga.

“I need fresh air.” Ailis was sick of looking out the window. “I am going for a walk.”

Helen grunted but moved aside. Ailis’s memory was cloudy, and she wasn’t even sure what day it was.

All the more reason to take a walk and get her blood flowing.

Ha! Ye’re running away because ye’re in yer husband’s chamber.

It was the truth. One she had no idea how to wrap her thoughts around.

But she’d woken up in Bhaic’s chamber, and that was a hard fact.

Finley was leaning against the wall with Skene. They both reached up and tugged on the corners of their bonnets when she opened the door. She offered them a soft smile as she started down the stairs.

“Here now… Mistress…wait for just a wee moment…” Finley cupped her elbow.

“I am very well,” she assured him.

He didn’t release her. “Well now, I can nae be having yer husband thinking I let ye take a tumble.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Skene tugged on his cap as he hurried off somewhere. Finley fell into step behind her, but it felt as though he was hovering. People looked up as she passed. The day was half gone, and the scent of baking bread came down the passageway from the kitchens.

Had she really slept so late?

She moved through the great hall, drawn toward the door by the sunlight. Two more retainers fell in with Finley.

“I do nae need to be taking up yer time,” she assured them.

They tugged on their caps but made no move to leave. She was torn between them and the sunlight.

Freedom won.

She made it out the door and sighed. The yard was full of activity, and it felt as if she’d been locked away from it all. Her brain seemed to be working slower than normal, but she could feel the stiffness leaving her joints.

A horse came through the gate, Bhaic leaning low over its neck. He pulled up at the base of the steps and swung his leg over the horse’s head before sliding to the ground.

He was up the steps in a flash.

“Should ye be up, lass?” There was concern in his eyes that confused her.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Because ye’ve been fighting a fever for the better part of two weeks.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it had been…well, I’m quite well.”

He flashed her a smile and slid an arm around her waist. She felt his breath brush her ear as he tilted his head close to hers. “Ye’re shaking.”

She was.

But she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “I just wanted to stretch me legs.”

Bhaic’s expression softened, a hint of compassion flickering in his blue eyes. “I’ve something I wanted to show ye.”

He guided her down the steps and lifted her up to the saddle. He mounted behind her and pulled her against his body. He looked back at her escort. “Taking her up to the stables.”

Finley nodded before Bhaic turned his stallion and sent it toward the gate. She was suddenly surrounded by him, shivering as he enclosed her with his embrace.

The stallion carried them easily beyond the walls of the castle and up toward the stable. He slid from the saddle first, reaching back up to help her down.

“I’m not delicate.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “I do nae want to argue with ye, but ye look as though a stiff wind might blow ye over.”

“It was only a little fever.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone simple. “Do ye remember yer father coming to see ye?”

“Me father?”

Bhaic chuckled softly and reached up to tap his jaw, where she noticed a dark bruise.

“How could me father land a blow on ye?” she scoffed.

“I let him.”

“Oh,” she said softly, completely at a loss for words. “But why?”

She’d stopped next to a stall and realized her knees were weak. She leaned on the railing as a young lad took the stallion.

“It was me failing that allowed ye to end up fighting for yer life.”

She tried to think. “I just went for a ride to clear me thoughts…oh…someone shot at me.” The memory rose up from what seemed like a long passage of time she couldn’t recall. But bits and pieces were starting to take shape. They were flashing through her memory, startling her as though she were experiencing them for the first time.

Bhaic nodded. “At yer colors, Ailis. The man thought ye were raiding.”

She looked down at her arisaid. “Oh, I suppose…well…”

“Aye. It’s something more than one man would think in the predawn light.”

She looked back at his jaw. “Ye shouldn’t have let me father hit ye.” She reached out and touched the dark spot.

Touching him dusted off another memory, and another and another. “Did ye…were ye there with me? I recall ye.”

“Of course I was. Every night.”

She pulled her hand back, but he caught it, folding his fingers around hers. The touch was strangely intimate and surprisingly familiar. She stared at their fingers. “Ye were. But why?”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I did nae send ye from me bed, Ailis, and we’re going to be discussing things when ye’re a bit stronger. On that, ye can count. But no’ just now.”

He pointed out one of the wide doorways. She followed him outside and smiled at the young colt playing in the sunlight next to his mother.

“I would have brought ye up a bit sooner if fate were nae having such a fine time toying with us.”

“So this is the fellow who interrupted us.”

He was a black colt. His coat shimmered in the morning light, his eyes glittering with spirit. He would dance away from his mother’s side, kicking at the air before returning when she snorted at him. Someday, he’d be a powerful stallion, worth a fortune if he could be trained to take a rider. She avoided using the word “broken,” because there was something in the colt’s eyes that told her he was far more valuable with his spirit intact.

Bhaic took her to the rail of the corral, and she sat down. “Aye. I plan to remind him in a few years when he spies himself a pretty mare and I tell him she’s no’ ready for him. But I’ll likely end up commiserating with him, for I know the frustration of waiting out a lass.”

She reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye had to wait an entire week to have me. What suffering ye have endured.”

“Ye think that’s all I’m waiting for?” He clicked his tongue. “There’s more to a good marriage than passion, but I’m no’ complaining about the fact that ye can nae keep yer hands off me.”

He flashed her a grin, and she discovered her cheeks heating. They might have been anyone. In that moment, there was only the warm spring day, the scent of growing crops all around them, and the twisting in her belly as she looked at Bhaic. He was watching her, his gaze full of hunger. It shifted to her mouth, making her breath catch. He leaned toward her, his breath teasing her lips.

Finley’s voice intruded. “There they are.”

Bhaic grunted. “I always thought getting married would end the need to sneak off into the shadows with a lass.”

“Can nae ye tell them to simply go away?” she asked as she blushed. “I thought it was only a matter of us…um…”

“Making things official?” he teased her.

She nodded, certain her cheeks had never been so red. Bhaic noticed, reaching out to tap one of her crimson cheekbones.

“Do nae enjoy yerself so much,” she warned him.

His grin grew until his teeth were flashing. “I plan to enjoy meself quite a bit with ye and make sure ye like it too.”

“Well no’ at the moment, it would seem.” She looked over to where Finley was leaning against the side of the barn. He was looking off to the side but keeping them in his sight.

“Aye. Ye may thank me father for them this time.”

“I thought it was Marcus setting them on me heels,” she said. “Is nae he now satisfied that I am no’ planning to take secrets back to me father?”

“Aye,” Bhaic answered. “But now yer father made me father swear ye would nae be at risk.”

Her jaw dropped. “Me father…made…yer father?”

Bhaic nodded once, obviously suffering from injured pride. “No’ that I was nae planning on taking ye in hand.”

“What do ye mean ‘in hand’?”

He grunted and stood up. “This is no’ the time.”

“It is indeed a fine time,” she argued.

“Ailis,” he warned her in a low tone.

“Do nae sound like yer brother.” She stood up to face him, actually poking him in the chest with her finger. “Ye’ll be telling me what ye want from me now. I’ve had quite enough of worrying over ye and me circumstances.”

Something flashed through his eyes before he leaned over and tossed her right over his shoulder.

Her belly twisted, and she realized it was with excitement.

Well, what’s the matter with that? He’s yer husband, isn’t he?

She was giggling when he let her down in another stall freshly made with a bed of sweet-smelling hay.

“A much better place to be telling ye what I want from ye, lass,” Bhaic informed her. He was big and imposing, just like the first time she’d seen him. Sensation rippled across her skin, but this time, she knew anticipation when she felt it.

Aye, “anticipation” was the right word.

She was nervous, twisting her hands as she tried to decide what to do. She felt the buckle of her belt and unfastened it. She pulled her arisaid free and shook it out so that it lay on the straw.

He pulled off his sword belt and left it hanging on the stall post. He reached out and cupped the top of her breast. “Ye enjoy me taking ye in hand…”

“Sometimes…”

He leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She hadn’t realized how starved she was for it. The memory of her tumbling in the river returned, bringing with it a need to live.

No, a desperation to survive.

She kissed him back. Opening her lips and thrusting her tongue up into his mouth. Her passage ached, too empty to endure. She needed him. Needed him to fill her. Fill her with life.

And she wanted him right now.

He was pulling on her laces, opening the front of her dress until he could get at her. He scooped her up and cradled her on the way to the ground. Coming down to nuzzle against her breasts.

“I’ll make sure that ye like it every time, lass, I swear that to ye.”

The husky promise made her twist with anticipation. He kissed his way across one plump mound until he captured the puckered tip between his lips. She gasped, feeling as though his mouth burned.

But it was a sweet agony. One she wanted more of. She plunged her hands into his hair and held him in place. He suddenly lifted away from her.

“Does it hurt? Yer back?”

She’d been sinking into a vortex of heat and had to blink before his words made sense. “Why should it?”

“Because the bullet tore across yer shoulders. The healer had to stitch it.”

He lifted her and rolled over so she was sitting on top of him. He grinned, reaching up and cradling her breasts in his hands.

“It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve half a mind to tell ye otherwise.” Her knees were on either side of his hips. She should have felt awkward, but a sense of control was sweeping through her, filling her with a confidence she’d never suspected she might feel. He was hard, his member a solid presence beneath the thin layers of his kilt.

His expression became hungry. “Like being in the saddle, do ye?”

“Possibly.” She lifted herself up and settled back down to see what it felt like. “But I’m fairly certain I haven’t successfully mounted ye just yet.”

She rose up again and made sure her skirts were out of the way. Bhaic grabbed handfuls of the fabric and tossed it up so her thighs were bared. He gripped the bare skin above her garters, his expression tightening with hunger.

The sight sent confidence roaring through her. She’d never felt so much in control, so much a match for anyone.

She lifted off him again, and this time, he yanked his kilt up. His member sprang up, and he held it steady as she lowered herself onto it.

“Now, let’s see if ye can stay in the saddle.”

She’d started to close her eyes, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. But his words were edged in challenge, and she opened her eyes and considered him.

“I’m a Robertson.”

“Ye are indeed.” He reached around and cupped her bottom. “But ye are also mine.”

He lifted her and thrust up into her. She gasped, reeling in a wave of sensation before she tried to regain control. It became a battle, Ailis trying to set the pace while he met every downward thrust and held her bottom in place so he might impale her. Frustration grew inside her at the same pace that the need to surrender to him did.

Sweat beaded on her skin, her heart pounding frantically as she tried to hold back the building explosion until she’d pushed him to the same extreme. But he wasn’t going to let her. He suddenly released her bottom, letting gravity slam her onto his length as he slid his hand across her belly and found the little pearl at the top of her sex. He fingered it, pressing hard on it as she rose and fell on him again. She was fighting back her climax, riding him hard as she tried to push him into one as well.

But she was losing her grip, her body refusing to obey. Pleasure spiked through her, twisting her as it exploded beneath his fingers. Her passage contracted, gripping his flesh as she cried out. He sat up, taking control as he flipped her over onto her knees and started hammering into her.

She ended up braced on her elbows, Bhaic gripping her hips as he took her. It was the hard possession she’d craved, setting off another, deeper wave of satisfaction. It was too intense to contain, her cry echoing inside the stall.

Bhaic growled a moment before his seed began to flood her. He pumped himself against her a few final times before they ended up in a heap of quivering limbs. Somehow he rolled over and pulled her with him, pressing her head onto his chest as they lay there, trying to recover.

Ailis didn’t really care if they ever did.

In those moments, she didn’t have any doubts. She was floating on a wave of satisfaction and could feel Bhaic quivering with the same feeling. The circumstances of their forced union were finally irrelevant. What mattered was the way they took each other into ecstasy.

Somewhere in the distance, Finley laughed. Bhaic smoothed a hand over her shoulder before moving to right his clothing. She found the ends of the tie threaded through her chemise neckline and tugged it tight again.

But she froze when she realized Bhaic was watching her.

“Do nae begrudge me yer private moments, lass.” He was sitting in the straw, one knee raised and his arm resting on it.

Her fingers were clumsy as she worked the lace through the eyelets on the front of her bodice. She tugged them tight, suffering from embarrassment when she had to adjust her breasts with him watching.

“Becoming yer maid suddenly has merit.”

His gaze dropped to the Robertson plaid spread out beneath them. “Yer colors…”

He stood up and lifted her to her feet. She reached back down for the length of wool, but stopped when she realized there was a hole torn through the fabric. It was large, and the edges charred.

“Ye can nae wear them.”

He pulled the fabric from the floor and held it over his arm.

“Haddox will no’ be the only one who sees these colors and thinks we’re being raided.”

It seemed she wasn’t finished settling in. His words were logical, the charred hole lending weight to his argument. She offered him a single nod and turned toward the stall doorway.

Bhaic pulled her back. “I’m sorry, Ailis. I know what I’m asking of ye.”

He did.

She witnessed the proof of it in his eyes. The sight touched something inside her, some need she wasn’t able to define. It felt as if he might be able to fill it, if she were willing to surrender completely to him.

Of course, it would be an unconditional surrender.

But then again, she doubted a MacPherson knew any other way.

Or that she could bend so very completely without snapping.

“I think I’d like to bathe.” It was an excuse. A place to hide while she sorted out her thoughts. He knew it too. His expression tightened, but he let her remain silent as he took her back to the castle.

But he kept her colors.

She turned at the top of the stairs and looked back at him. She lifted her hand for her arisaid. Bhaic shook his head.

The distrust stung.

Oh, aye.“Unconditional” was the right word.

She honestly doubted she could manage it.

Which left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Trust. Such a small word for so large an idea.

* * *

She was starving.

When the cook rang the supper bells, Ailis wasn’t sure she wanted to stay awake long enough to eat. But the sight of her bed didn’t look inviting, so she went down to the hall.

At the first whiff of food, her belly rumbled.

Her mouth actually started watering.

She was shaking as she climbed the stairs to the high ground and sat down. The staff was putting the supper out, the aromas driving her nearly insane. Her belly was so empty it hurt. Waiting for Shamus seemed like a torment. Time moved at a snail’s pace as she grasped handfuls of her skirt to keep from grabbing at the food before he blessed the meal.

“Now there is a fine sight,” Shamus remarked as he gained the high ground. He sent her a wink before settling down.

Bhaic followed with Marcus. Below them, the retainers were moving the benches around, filling the hall with laughter and jesting.

Her belly rumbled again. But the meal began, granting her relief from one of her torments. Her appetite might have been raging, but it was soon satisfied. She wanted to eat more, but her insides felt as though they were near bursting.

A moment later, her eyelids felt too heavy to hold up. The meal was only half over, but she feared she was going to end up snoring on the tabletop if she didn’t get up. Bhaic raised an eyebrow when she started to move, but nodded and looked back at his father, who was in the middle of telling some tale from his youth.

Her own father would be doing something similar.

Finley noticed her from where he was eating at the bottom of the high ground. He reached for a round of bread. He tore it open and stuffed a thick slice of meat inside it before sliding his bench back.

“I’m going straight up. I promise,” she said.

He’d stopped halfway off the bench. “A promise, is it?”

Ailis nodded. Finley considered her for a moment before he settled back down. “Straight up then, and I’ll be looking in on ye when I come up. I’ll knock, mind ye.”

It was a small thing, but she was discovering that trust was something very necessary. Bhaic didn’t trust her.

The knowledge hurt.

* * *

She started to pull the pins from her hair, setting them carefully on the small table next to her mirror. The chamber was neat and ready, showing that everyone was as unsure of her place as she was.

“Why are ye here, Ailis?”

Her comb went clattering to the floor. She was off the stool, stumbling back because of how deeply she’d been in her thoughts. Bhaic reached out and caught a handful of her skirt to steady her.

“Ye do nae sleep here.” His tone was solid, his expression tight. “Ye know where ye sleep.”

“Why?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do ye sleep in me chamber?”

She nodded. “Ye do nae trust me no’ to wear me arisaid, so why would ye trust me beside ye at night.”

He muttered something under his breath. “I took yer arisaid because I can nae stand the thought of ye in peril.” He offered her his hand.

She stared at it for a long moment, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I am no’ the only one learning to trust, lass.”

“Ye give up much less than I do.” She probably shouldn’t have spoken. Shouldn’t have let him see how exposed she felt.

“Aye. But I can nae be changing the way the world works. Ye are here.” He reached a little closer, still offering his hand.

“Aye, and ye’ve had me today. I’m tired.”

He dropped his hand and made a soft sound. “Ye think all I crave from ye is the release I gain from coupling with ye?” He closed the distance between them and scooped her off her feet.

“Put me down.”

He’d already carried her out of the room by the time she finished protesting. The flight of stairs between their chambers passed in a flash, before he was angling her through his doorway and kicking the door shut with his foot.

“Now I will,” he said. He set her on her feet but stood in front of the closed door.

“What do ye think ye’re proving?” she asked.

“That ye are more than a duty.”

His words caught her off guard. He moved closer and cupped her shoulder, turning her around. “This is the only place I can be meself, Ailis. Something I think ye know a little about from being yer father’s only daughter.”

“Aye, I do.”

He was so solid behind her.

Her attention settled on something. She blinked and peered closer. Sitting on the table was her arisaid, folded neatly but not hidden away. Most unions, such as hers and Bhaic’s, would have allowed her to continue to wear her colors, while their children wore his.

“Marcus advised me to burn it,” he said.

She snorted.

Bhaic smoothed his hands over her shoulders. “It’s his way of protecting ye. Harsh, aye, but ye would no’ make the mistake of riding out in the predawn light with it again. Marcus will always take the method that allows no opportunities to catch him unawares.”

“I suppose there is logic to that way of thinking,” she conceded. “Why didn’t ye take his advice?”

“Ye’re right when ye point out I am nae expected to give up so much of meself in this union. Burning yer father’s colors seemed more like stripping ye of yer identity. There may be times ye’ll want to wear them. Inside.”

He stressed the last word, gaining a soft sound of amusement from her.

“Since ye were willing to give Finley yer word, perhaps ye can ease me mind as well,” he said.

“I’m no’ foolish,” she said. “Even if fate seems to be having a merry time at me expense.”

“Aye, she has been making the pair of us dance to her tune sure enough. I’m no’ sure any other couple has had more trouble consummating a wedding.”

The chamber echoed with the soft sound of their amusement. It was balm for her wounds, soothing the hurt and offering the companionship she’d felt so deprived of.

But from her husband?

Was such a thing possible?

Men and women were simply so different.

Her hair was sagging, since half the pins were removed. She reached back to finish the job, but Bhaic brushed her hand aside and began searching out the remaining pins.

“Well, we did manage it…after all.” The words were past her lips before she realized what she was discussing so openly.

“Aye.”

Her hair fell down her back. He threaded his fingers through it, leaning down and inhaling its scent. His tone was husky and possessive, but she liked it. He kissed her nape, and a shiver went down her back.

“Is it so wrong of me to want ye to settle in at me side?” He turned her slowly but kept her close.

“I suppose I never thought ye’d care to have me so close.”

He lifted her chin, their gazes locking. “I know I nearly went mad while ye were locked in the grip of that fever.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes flashing with hard purpose. “Ye’re mine, Ailis Robertson, and I plan to keep ye close at hand.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. He tilted his head and pressed his lips down on hers. She rose on her toes to kiss him back. In his embrace, there wasn’t a boundary between them.

There was only the need to be joined completely.

He was more accomplished at disrobing her than she wanted to dwell on.

“The number is no’ that high,” he said.

She stepped back, feeling as if he’d read her mind.

Bhaic chuckled as he reached out to pull the lace on the front of her bodice free from the last two eyelets. “But I do admit to enjoying more than a quick toss of the skirts against the wall.”

Her eyes widened. “How…never mind.” An image burst into her head, dispelling all innocence.

Bhaic laughed. “Yer father deserves more credit than I’d ever have thought. How did he control his men so completely that ye never saw a couple in the passageway after sundown?”

“Well…” She was moving away from him, slowly retreating from the intimate nature of the conversation. Her bodice fell down her arms and ended up abandoned on the floor. “I suppose…me brother Duncan is more like Marcus than I realized. His men were forever with me.”

Keeping her innocent, so she’d be useful.

Bhaic reached for the tie holding her skirt closed. She slapped his hand away. It was a light blow, but the sound echoed in the quiet chamber. His expression tightened.

“I think I’ve had enough of being groomed…” Her tone had turned husky, the confidence she’d felt during the afternoon at the stable returning in a rush. She let it flood her.

“In fact…” She forced herself to move toward him. Surprise flickered in his eyes as his lips curved. “I’m so very tired of everyone deciding what is best for me.”

He nodded as she reached for his belt and very boldly worked the buckle until she was able to let it fall to the floor.

“I’m tired of being…settled in…” She pulled the edges of his plaid free of the brooch that held it over his shoulder. “Tired of being watched…”

She found the second belt holding his kilt around his lean waist and opened the buckle. The wool slipped easily down his body, leaving only the soft linen of his shirt. His member was standing up, pushing the fabric away from his groin.

“Really tired of being innocent.”

She reached beneath the tail of the shirt and closed her fingers around his length. He sucked in a breath, hissing through his teeth. She was mesmerized by the way his jaw tightened. Against her palm, his member was hot, and covered in satin-smooth skin. She drew her hand up from the base to the tip and smiled at the groan that escaped his lips.

“It will be me pleasure to help ye become a woman who gives as much as she receives,” he said.

He reached inside her open chemise, cupping one breast. It was her turn to gasp, sensation swirling through her. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, the sensitive tip drawing tight beneath his touch.

“And I’m going to enjoy having ye in me bed…”

He popped the lace on her skirt and pushed it down and over her hips. She jumped back, ending up in nothing but her chemise and stockings.

“Bare yerself for me, Ailis…”

He was working the buttons on his cuffs. She was still backing up, grasping for the control that had filled her with such boldness. But she realized it was a struggle between them, and it always would be. It was in both of their natures.

So…she’d just fight fire with fire.

She pulled her chemise over her head. Her heart pounded, warming her so the night air felt good against her skin. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her, taking a long time to study her.

“Ye’re beautiful.” He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head.

She set her teeth into her lower lip as she let her gaze slip down his body. He had a light coating of dark hair across his chest that tapered to his belly. His member was thick and long. She really hadn’t realized how large it was.

He was closing the distance between them, and the fine hairs on her skin were rising up as his body heat teased them. Moments became tiny eternities, time slowing down to allow her to be cognizant of every little detail.

He touched her forearms first. Just his fingertips, gliding up the outside of her arms, to her elbows and on up until he was sliding his hands across her shoulders.

She reached for him, completing the moment. She was trembling and fighting for breath as she threaded her fingers through his chest hair.

“I do nae deserve the fact that ye waited for me…while I did nae keep meself to the same standard…” His tone was hard, edged with possessiveness as he gathered up her hair in one hand and stepped up to bring their bodies into full contact. “But I’d be a liar if I did nae admit how much I enjoy knowing ye are mine and mine alone.”

The kiss he pressed against her mouth swamped her thoughts. It was full of hunger, and she matched it with her own appetite. She was twisting in his embrace, needing more contact between them. He held her captive to his will, kissing her hard and long before he scooped her up and took her to his bed.

They rolled across its huge surface, and he flattened her beneath his body. She let out a cry as she opened her thighs to cradle his hips. It seemed the most natural position, and another sound of enjoyment hit the canopy above their heads as he lowered himself onto her, the head of his member slipping between the wet folds of her cleft.

“Sweet Christ,” he groaned as he pushed deep inside her. “I truly…meant to…let ye rest…”

“Later,” she said, lifting to take his next thrust and listening with surprise at the sound that came out of her.

Breathless.

Carnal.

She didn’t care. All that mattered was working in time with his rhythm. Rising to meet each downward plunge. Taking his member as deep as she could, all the while being pushed further and further into a churning storm of sensation.

She was twisting, straining toward the end. Craving it, and at the same time, wanting to enjoy the journey. But self-discipline was completely beyond her grasp. There was only the current and its grip. It pulled her along with it, into the center of the storm, pleasure exploding through her and pulling every muscle she had tight enough to break. She cried out.

Or maybe it was Bhaic.

In truth, it seemed as though they were a single being.

Both strained toward each other; both tried to grip the pulsing heart of life. It dropped them back into reality with a jolt, leaving them listening to their own harsh breathing.

* * *

Someone was next to her.

Ailis opened her eyes and stiffened, sitting up. The room was dark, the hearth embers putting out only a tiny red glow.

“Naught is amiss, lass.”

She jumped and heard Bhaic chuckle. He reached up and stroked her arm before rising from the bedding and closing his arms around her.

“Go back to sleep.”

He didn’t wait for her to comply, gathering her close, pulling the bedding around them as he settled her against his body.

She didn’t know what to think of it, but his scent soothed something inside her. Awakening a memory of him being beside her, holding her. Honestly, she didn’t need to think.

* * *

“Still in bed, little brother?”

Ailis squealed, jumping as Marcus’s voice boomed in the early morning. Bhaic snarled and flipped over, coming out of the bedding to shield her. It wasn’t necessary. Marcus was in the outer doorway, his back to them.

“Ye need a wife!” Bhaic shouted before the door shut.

“A demanding one,” Ailis added. “To slow him down a bit.”

Bhaic looked toward her, but his gaze settled on her bare shoulders.

“Ye make a fetching sight.”

He made a soft sound before he grabbed a shirt and put it on. The morning sun was streaming through the windows, shaming them both with how long they’d slept. Ailis crawled out of the bedding, her body stiff.

She scooped up her chemise, but froze when she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. Across her shoulder was a dark, jagged line, impossible to miss. She started to turn, slowly, until she was looking over her shoulder at her reflection. The path the bullet had traveled across her back was marked with a half-healed line an inch wide in places. Her skin was sewn together, the edges uneven and red.

“It will look better in time, lass.” Bhaic moved toward her and looked at the healing wound. “There was so much dirt in it from the river. Little wonder ye were taken with fever for so long.”

She was fortunate.

She tried to focus on that as she put on her chemise, but all she could see was the jagged scar.

Bhaic cupped her chin, raising her face so their eyes met. “Ye’re strong. That’s what that scar says about ye. The healer had ye given last rites.”

“I didn’t realize…”

He slid an arm around her when she tried to step away. “Did nae realize how close ye came to leaving this world?” He locked her against him, keeping their gazes fused. “I recall every last moment of it. I’ve never spent so much time on me knees.”

“Ye prayed…for me?”

There was a flash of something in his eyes that touched off a storm of emotions inside her.

“I treasure ye, Ailis.”

No one, outside her family, had ever treasured her. He pressed a hard kiss against her lips.

“And I have no idea what it means, only that fate seems to think ye and I belong together. So perhaps we should try doing as we’re being directed.” He released her and walked back to where he’d been pleating his kilt.

“Ye mean kicked in the tail until we fall into line.”

He looked up from his pleating and shot her a wicked grin. “Into bed, ye mean.”

Considering she’d spent the night in his bed, she shouldn’t have blushed. But she did, turning away to fumble with her skirt. He buckled his kilt and captured her while she was busy trying to avoid his gaze.

“I’m beginning to see why the French lock new bridal couples into a chamber for a month with all the honey mead they can drink.” He kissed her soundly until she melted and kissed him back.

“Ye need to learn to be easy in me company,” he said.

He released her, grabbed his second belt, and secured it around his waist before retrieving his bonnet from the table. With a wink, he headed for the door and disappeared, giving her a glimpse of Skene waiting outside.

Easy in his company?

She was fairly sure her hair would be gray before such a thing came to pass.