Four

Four

First light showed her more evidence of the MacPherson’s superiority.

From the windows in her room, Ailis could see the outer buildings that supported the castle. The kitchens were huge. She counted at least seven chimneys, all of them in use. There was a well-worn road that led up to those kitchens. Even so early in the morning, there were wagons arriving. Beside the kitchen were henhouses and a byre with cows. Young boys were moving around, sitting down on short stools to milk those cows.

Her belly rumbled, low and long.

Farther down the road were more buildings, likely belonging to the butcher. In the distance, she could see the stables. It was a misty morning, and chilly. Ailis pulled up her arisaid to fend off the chill, since she didn’t have a wrap to fill in the neckline of her dress.

More than one person turned to stare at the Robertson colors when she passed by the passageways. She hurried by, not giving them time to start an argument with her. This early, the hall was still full of retainers sleeping on its floor. The men were rolled in their plaids, slumbering side by side, the tables and benches pushed to one end.

Being in the employ of the laird was a good life for many. The keep kept the snow out better than a rough hut, and men who served as retainers might enjoy three meals a day. They would all be fiercely loyal to Shamus and Bhaic. She stepped lightly as she went through the passageway toward the kitchens.

The hearths were fired up, the ovens hot as more than two dozen women worked lumps of bread dough on long tables. Flour floated in the air, tickling her nose. Ailis let her arisaid down, grateful to be able to blend in.

She stopped and selected a small round of bread resting on a cooling rack. After her meager supper, it smelled delightful. Her belly rumbled, and she walked through to a storage room where she selected a small chunk of cheese. The storeroom smelled delicious and slightly of wax, but inviting. There were pottery bowls with wide leather caps that held softer cheeses and perhaps fruit preserves from the last spring. Maybe honey too.

Had she really been gone from Robertson land for only one day?

Was it only yesterday that she’d been greeted as a member of the household?

“Here now, can ye nae wait for the laird to bless the bread?”

Ailis turned to find a woman standing in the doorway to the storeroom. She had her sleeves pushed all the way up her arms and a huge apron that was covered in flour. Her hair was tied up behind a length of fabric, with just a few wisps having worked their way free.

“Oh…well now, ye are nae who I expected to see in the storeroom, mistress.”

Ailis was holding the bread and cheese to her body. The woman pulled off a length of toweling hanging from her belt and gave it a snap. Flour flew off it.

“Here, tie it up in this.” She handed over the toweling and disappeared into the main kitchens. But she returned, offering a small knife and pottery jug. “I suppose I can nae blame ye for wanting a bit of peace while ye eat. I do nae know how ye managed to swallow anything last eve. The last time I felt that much tension in the hall was during the monthly court.”

“Helen? What’s keeping ye?”

Helen smiled before she turned and went back to the kitchen. There was good-natured conversation at the worktable. Someone broke out in song, and others joined in. It was tempting to stay, but when she appeared in the door frame, half the women snapped their mouths closed.

Ailis turned and walked through the back doorway. She pulled her arisaid up again, grateful for the length of Robertson wool that she’d worn tucked into her belt to show her clan affiliation. It was a good length, wide enough for her to wrap around her shoulders without pulling it from her belt. If it rained, she might make a hood of it to shelter under.

Today, it granted her privacy from the MacPhersons peering at her as she passed. She climbed up to the stables before sitting on a stump. The sun was in sight now, stretching out its golden rays. The mist was rolling in wisps, retreating to the valleys where the streams ran full of melting spring snow.

The length of toweling proved useful, covering her dress as she pulled the bread apart. Since she didn’t have anything else to wear, keeping the front of it from stains would be best. She pulled the cork from the pottery jug and sniffed at the contents. It was water.

She could hear the horses as they woke and greeted the day. Wagons were making their way along the road, and in the distance, she could hear the church bell calling everyone to worship.

She muttered a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness, because going anywhere near stone walls chafed at the moment. Her breakfast finished, she shook out the toweling and tucked the knife into her belt before walking into the stables.

Her mare was at the end of one long row of stalls. She tossed her head when Ailis greeted her.

Tugging her skirt up, Ailis climbed up onto the crossbeams of the stall and sat on the top rail. Her mare was chewing her breakfast but nuzzled against her, looking for affection.

Ailis gave it freely, needing someone, or something, to help drive the loneliness from her heart.

“See? I told ye!”

Ailis jumped in surprise and slipped off the rail. Four burly retainers were coming down the row of stalls, their strides long and purposeful. They had doublets on with their kilts, and sword belts. Each man kept a sure hand on the hilt of his weapon as they moved to control the swing of the weapon behind him.

“No Robertson lass is going to be too hard to find.”

“What are ye doing?” Ailis demanded. The retainer who appeared to be in command inclined his head toward her, but reached out and clamped his hand around her upper arm.

“Taking ye back to the castle.”

She pulled against his hold, but only succeeded in wrenching her shoulder. “Do ye suppose ye might just ask me to accompany ye?” The urge to panic was hard to resist, but she fought to maintain control over her emotions.

His companions lost their scowls for a moment, one of them fingering his beard. “Would ye, then? Just come along quiet like?”

“Ye’ll no’ know unless ye try,” she snapped, jerking on her arm again.

The leader released her and fixed her with a skeptical glare. “I am Lyel. Would ye be so kind as to return to the castle with me and the lads?”

Her arm smarted. She resisted the urge to rub it and let him see that he’d pained her. “May I ask why?”

One of the others spoke up. “That’s what ye get for asking. Now she’s going to pester ye to death with questions.”

“Shut yer jaw, Finley,” Lyel said. “Well, mistress? Are ye coming, or are we hauling ye between us?”

“Hauling?” She stepped back, and they all followed her. “Why ever would ye haul me?”

Was she a prisoner then?

“Marcus set us to looking after ye.” Lyel indicated his comrades. “Finley there, Skene, and Kam. Since ye were no’ at table to break yer fast, there was a bit of a concern for where ye might have slipped off to. A Robertson unaccounted for, well now, there’s the reason for concern.”

“I was just here…seeing me mare.”

Lyel’s lips curved in a smug grin. “Aye. I thought to myself, where would she go but up to where she might get herself a horse, to be quicker away to her father’s lands?”

“That is an unfounded charge.”

“It is.” Bhaic suddenly appeared. The four retainers all reached up and tugged on the corners of their bonnets. “The lady would be long away if that were her intention. According to the kitchens, she was gone just after first light. Helen will nae give her food again.”

She’d just been enjoying a moment of relief when his second comment stole it away. “Good Christ,” she swore. “What does it matter?”

Bhaic gave the retainers a gesture. They nodded and headed back down the aisle toward the doors of the stable, but they didn’t leave. He’d started to turn back toward her but looked back at the retainers.

“Can I no’ be alone with me wife?”

Lyel cleared his throat and looked down.

“Be gone,” Bhaic ordered them.

“The thing is”—Lyel cleared his throat again—“we can nae do that.”

“And why no’?” Bhaic demanded.

“Well, ye see, Marcus gave very clear instructions.”

“Aye, clear they were.” Finley came to his comrade’s aid. “Ye two need…witnesses.” He gestured to himself and his friends.

Bhaic’s face darkened with understanding. “Would it suit ye if I just toss her skirts right here?”

Ailis felt as if she’d been punched in the belly as the retainers all started nodding.

“That would do it sure enough.”

“Right well.”

“Better done quickly, I always say. Settles the lassies down when they’re skittish.”

“With a fair lass like that? I’d be in favor of tossing her skirts,” Kam finished up.

“Ye will no’!” She lifted her foot and kicked Bhaic straight in the backside. He hadn’t been watching her, and stumbled when her blow landed. The retainers hooted with amusement.

“Skittish and spirited!”

“Better get a bridle on her!”

Bhaic flipped around. “I did nae mean it like that, Ailis.” He’d landed in a fighting crouch but recovered quickly. She’d be wise to recognize just how deadly the man might be, but all she could hear was the choking sounds his father’s retainers were making.

“I am no’ a strumpet to be spoken of so freely for sport.”

He held his hands up. “I know ye are nae. Men talk…more crudely.”

She’d made it away from the stall. He started to follow her and she just couldn’t control the urge to edge away from him.

He didn’t care for the way she was backing away from him. His eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line. “If I was going to handle ye roughly, I’d have insisted on sharing yer bed last night.”

She stopped moving, realizing she was far more trapped by the union she was in with him than anything else. There was nowhere she might go, no place on earth that wouldn’t recognize the rights of a husband to his wife.

It left her feeling hopeless. Trapped.

But he had shown her kindness. She tried to hold onto that fact.

“I simply woke early,” she said. “I was nae leaving.”

“But ye are here…in the stables.”

She felt him closing the distance. It was the oddest sensation. A tightening of her insides and a ripple of awareness across her skin.

“Me mare is the only creature I was certain would welcome me.”

His lips twitched, curving into a confident grin that sent her blood racing. “Ye may depend on a warm welcome when ye come to me, lass.”

“Come to ye?”

He nodded.

Wouldn’t that be too bold?

He’d made it close enough to clasp her wrist. She jerked when he closed his fingers around her limb. His expression was harsh.

“I know me strength,” he muttered softly. He stood a full head taller than she. He might have tucked her head beneath his chin. “Ye needn’t flinch.”

“Yer touch is…unsettling.”

He lifted her chin with two fingers, making her look into his eyes. She’d been avoiding it. Because she knew she’d get lost again.

She was right. There was something about the way he looked into her eyes that made her feel as though he could see her most intimate thoughts.

“Aye.” His tone had deepened, clearly pleased, but in some dark, wicked way. “Since we’re wed, it’s as it should be, lass. I plan to teach ye how to enjoy it.”

She liked the sound of that.

Her mouth went dry, and her lips felt as if they were recalling exactly what it felt like to be kissed.

Oh, it was a terrible, craven thing to like, but she couldn’t very well lie to herself.

He was leaning toward her, making ready to kiss her.

“Why…why didn’t ye…insist last eve? If ye are so convinced I am no’ trustworthy, why leave the matter unsettled?”

He made a soft sound under his breath. “Because I do nae wish to be the brute ye accused me of being.”

“I called ye that justly.”

“Aye.” His tone had become a husky whisper. “So grant me some notice for the fact that I am trying to please ye.”

She nodded. But with nothing to quibble over, all she was left with was the knowledge that he was stirring up her senses.

His breath teased the surface of her lips, sending a ripple of awareness over the delicate skin. He eased closer, his scent filling her senses. Her heart accelerated, beating with hard, deep, pounding motions. She wanted his kiss, and he leaned down, his blue eyes focused on her mouth. She started to rise onto her toes, intending to meet him.

Something snapped beneath a boot at the other end of the stable. She stiffened, landing back on her heels with a jolt.

“I told ye to stay still! We’re going to be stuck trailing the pair of them until they get this finished,” Finley barked. “Don’t mind us…”

Bhaic cursed in Gaelic. “I needs speak with me brother. They will nae leave us in peace, since his word holds the same weight as mine.”

Ailis withdrew, but he pulled her to a stop with the hold on her wrist. She lifted her arm and started to pull against his grip. Their gazes locked as she increased her resistance. He didn’t want to let her go. She witnessed the flash of rejection in his eyes before he relented and opened his fingers.

“I’ll take ye back up to the castle, lass. I do nae know what women spend their days doing, but I know it is no less demanding than me own responsibilities.”

He offered her his hand.

Time felt as though it froze. He stretched just another inch closer to her.

“Take me hand, lass. Trust that I only mean to put it on me arm.”

Trust. It was an enormous idea, one that felt as if it had the ability to crush her.

Yet part of her wanted to touch him again.

Her heart skipped a beat as she laid hers into his grasp. He settled her hand on his forearm and started off.

Ailis discovered herself lost in the moment. One she’d daydreamed about, because to stroll so intimately on the arm of a man was something the maiden daughter of the laird simply did not do. She’d seen other girls enjoying such, their cheeks pink and their eyes glittering with enjoyment.

Did she like it?

For certain, it was far different than she’d expected. Her breath felt caught and labored. Thinking took massive amounts of concentration, and even then, her thoughts were muddled. Her insides were twisted into a strange concoction of excitement and anticipation. She ended up laughing softly under her breath.

“My escort amuses ye?”

She laughed harder and pulled her hand off his arm as she tried to explain herself. “The situation…being on a man’s arm…well, it is nae…exactly what I thought it might be. When I got the chance to experience it meself.”

He chuckled and caught her hand and returned it to his arm. “Aye.”

They were making it closer to the castle. More people were there. They looked up, pausing as Bhaic brought her past them. She started to pull her hand off his arm, but he covered it with his own, gently rubbing the back of her hand.

“We’re in this together, lass.”

They were kind words, but not entirely true. She looked at MacPherson Castle, noticing all of the things about it that were unfamiliar.

She knew Robertson Castle like the back of her hand. She was the stranger here, not him.

Ahead of them, Marcus was watching a group of youths practicing with wooden swords.

“Excuse me, lass. I needs have words with me brother, and they will likely be too rough for yer ears.”

Bhaic turned to face her, slipping his hand behind her head and cupping it gently. She gasped, but he captured the sound beneath his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her mouth. It wasn’t overly hard or deep, but there was a reaction around it.

He pulled away, the look in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. She had spent more than a few hours thinking on the day when a man would consider her his, but she wasn’t prepared for it.

The intensity in his eyes curled her toes.

He turned and started across the yard, giving her too much time to admire what a fine figure he made. His shoulders were broad and packed with thick muscle. No hint of a belly, only a trim waist where his kilt was secured.

“Robertson…”

The slur caught her attention.

No, it wasn’t a slur, it was her father’s name, and it was time she did something about making sure the MacPhersons stopping using it as such.

She turned toward the kitchens, her escort falling in behind her.

* * *

“Brother.”

“Do nae brother me, Marcus.” Bhaic braced his feet in a wide stance. “Ye know what I’m here about.”

Marcus had his arms crossed over his chest. It was his favorite pose for keeping his thoughts to himself and driving Bhaic insane.

“Ye are the Tanis.”

“I bloody well know that,” Bhaic said.

“Then why is that lass still yer bride and no’ yer wife?” Marcus turned to face him. “She’s an educated woman, likely reads at least three languages. And she was loose in our halls without a single pair of eyes on her, with the legal right to annul her marriage. I would have posted someone at her door last night if I’d thought for a moment ye’d be so stupid as to leave her alone. If she makes it back to her father, the information about our defenses she might carry with her would be catastrophic.”

Bhaic was fuming, but he couldn’t very well accuse his brother of having no grounds for his concerns. “She’s the one who saw the wisdom in our union before I did, Marcus. Do nae color the lass so guilty. Notice that she is trying to make this work, and no’ many are willing to see it an easy task for her.”

His brother only gave him a half grin. “’Tis my place to be suspicious. Yers to make alliances.”

“Would ye have me be rough with her?” Bhaic demanded. “She’s a delicate lass.”

His brother chuckled ominously. “Aye, I’ve seen her. Her sweet face makes a man forget everything. The perfect makings of a spy.”

“You go too far with that word.”

Bhaic challenged Marcus’s gaze, but his brother didn’t retreat.

“I mean it, Marcus, take it back.”

His brother considered him for a moment and shook his head.

The youths started to notice, halting their practice. Bhaic didn’t back down, and neither did Marcus.

“Alright then…” Bhaic said as he pulled his sword belt off and tossed it to one of the boys behind him.

Marcus’s expression lit with savage enjoyment. They both stripped down to their shirts, the youths clearing out of the training yard as Bhaic and Marcus took up positions.

“Ye’re going to take that word back,” Bhaic promised.

“I would love to see ye try to make me.”

A lot of others wanted to see too. They began spilling out of the buildings as he and Marcus circled each other. People started calling out wagers, but all Bhaic saw was the gleam in his brother’s eye.

One he was going to smash.

They collided with a crunch, the crowd groaning. Marcus’s jaw was as hard as a boulder, but Bhaic smashed his fist into it anyway. His brother didn’t give easily but ended up staggering under the force of the second blow Bhaic landed. He came back with a vicious snarl, ramming himself into Bhaic and lifting him off his feet.

They slammed into the ground, raising a cloud of dust. People surged forward, trying to get a good view. Marcus tried to pin him on his back, and Bhaic strained and tossed him over. He flipped and launched himself at Marcus, the pair of them grabbling, rolling, punching, and doing their best to lock an arm around the other’s neck to choke him into compliance.

There wasn’t going to be any quarter.

* * *

“Mistress…come out of the kitchens…please.”

Ailis looked up to find Finley dancing from one foot to the other like a little boy on Twelfth Night.

“We’re missing the fun,” he implored her. “And I can nae go without ye.”

The head cook made it clear she’d be happy if Ailis went somewhere else.

“It will be over soon,” Finley said.

There was something going on in the yard. People were cheering.

“Very well.”

At least someone might be pleased with her at last. Finley ran the few steps to the kitchen door and pushed it open for her. The cheering was louder now, along with some sort of snarling and grunting.

She came up into the yard and blinked as she took in the sight.

“Whoo…hoo…ye’ve got him now!” Finley roared.

As far as she could see, there was no way to know who had whom. Bhaic and his brother were a tangle of limbs and snarls. They’d raised a huge cloud of dust, and both of them had blood brightening their shirts. The crowd roared with approval as they tried to kill each other.

She started forward, but Finley shot his arm out and stopped her. “Stay here now, lassie. That’s no place for a wee thing like yerself.”

“Ye have to stop them.”

Finley looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

Well, at least they had something in common.

“Here now…What’s all this?” Shamus MacPherson suddenly appeared.

The crowd parted for him but groaned with disappointment. The old laird made his way to the edge of the circle surrounding the two fighting men and scowled.

“Get up, ye sons of the devil!” he hollered. He turned to his captains. “Haul those dogs off each other.”

Bhaic got in one final blow with his elbow before Angus dragged him off Marcus.

“I said enough,” Shamus insisted.

Marcus and Bhaic both abandoned their spite as they faced their father. For all that the bloodlust had cooled in their expressions, there was no hint of remorse for their actions. Their father shook his head.

“I’ve a mind to send ye both to the monastery for good penance.” He shook his head. “But ye’re likely both lost causes, since ye’re me sons.”

Bhaic and Marcus both snickered in response.

“What’s eating at the pair of ye?” their father demanded. He turned and looked at the crowd. “And is there nae a single better thing the lot of ye might be doing with the daylight?”

People started scattering. The youths began to train again, the sound of their wooden swords connecting filling the air.

“Now answer me,” Shamus insisted.

“He insulted me wife,” Bhaic said plainly. “Harshly so.”

Marcus wiped blood off his chin with his sleeve. Shamus pegged him with a hard look. “Perhaps I did.”

Bhaic curled his fingers into a fist.

“Enough,” Shamus said. “Seems we do nae need the Robertsons to overrun us. All it has taken to set us on our ear is one wee lassie.”

Everyone suddenly turned to look at her. Shamus followed the direction of the crowd’s attention. He pointed at her.

“Go on then, see what manner of nursing yer husband needs,” Shamus ordered before looking at Marcus. “And ye sit down and cool yer temper.”

Helen was suddenly there, with a bowl and a pitcher of water. She pushed Ailis forward, other women from the kitchen arriving. One set a stool down, but Bhaic looked at it with nothing more than a disinterested glance.

“I do nae need tending.”

He was glowering down at Ailis, looking as intimidating as she’d always been told he was. Everyone was watching them, seeing if she’d fold beneath his stern glare.

“The blood wetting yer hair says otherwise. Now sit down before ye and I have to discuss the matter,” Ailis admonished him.

His eyes lit with enjoyment, a glitter that warned her he was very interested in her attempts to make him bend. She stared straight back at him. He chuckled softly before lowering himself to a stool.

“Far be it for me to argue about ye wanting to put yer hands on me.”

Helen grunted and clicked her tongue as she poured the water into the bowl and added a pouch of herbs.

* * *

“Ye have an odd way of talking to yer brother.”

Bhaic started to get up, but Ailis shoved him back down and used her fingers to push his hair back from the cut on his scalp. “Sweet Christ, this needs stitching.”

Marcus snorted at him, making kissing motions with his lips. Bhaic started to send him an obscene gesture but got distracted by Ailis’s cleavage. She was so busy looking at his head, she hadn’t yet realized his nose was darn near in the valley between her breasts. He slowly grinned and heard his brother snort again.

“Are ye going to tell me yer brothers are so very different?”

She was still looking at the cut on his scalp. He was still enjoying the sight of her plump breasts.

“Well, nae. I suppose ye have a point. Duncan and Bruce are forever at each other’s throats over something or another.”

She suddenly realized where his attention was. “Bhaic Gordon Matthew MacPherson.”

“So ye were paying attention during our wedding,” he said smugly.

“It’s branded into me memory.”

How could it not be? The thought sobered her, dredging up the dread and uncertainty her wedding had been made of. It certainly had not been a happy moment. By the time she cut the thread on the row of stitches, her mood was gloomy indeed.

Bhaic stood, looking as though he’d suffered through the stitching only to please her. He was every inch the warrior she’d been raised to fear. Hardened. Savage.

And ye belong to him…

They were still the center of attention, with a good number of folks still lingering in doorways and in the yard. Bhaic’s eyes narrowed as he caught her gaze for a moment. Ailis turned, using the excuse of washing her hands. She felt him watching her.

“I’ll see ye at supper, lass.”

It was more warning than invitation. She looked up to see him walking away, the longer pleats of his kilt swaying.

How could it still be before noon? She felt as though the day had been so very much longer.

* * *

Her reluctant escort clung to her skirt hem.

Their patience wore thin as the day went on. Ailis went through the large kitchens, familiarizing herself with how the storerooms were organized and just how the huge number of MacPherson retainers were kept fed.

Duana wasn’t in a much better mood today. The Head of House was stiff, and a little unwilling to meet Ailis’s direct gaze. But at least her cutting remarks were missing some of their sharpness.

“Helen there can spend time playing nursemaid,” Duana finally said, “since it seems she has a liking for Robertsons.”

Helen dropped her superior a courtesy, but there was a disapproving set to her lips. Duana ignored it as she went back to supervising the evening meal.

“I’ll be happy to answer yer questions, mistress.” Helen raised her voice just a bit on the word “mistress.” It sent a ripple through the women working at the long tables and the men set to watching Ailis.

But a young maid suddenly let out a shriek and dropped a large ceramic pitcher. It smashed into the floor with a loud cracking sound. Cider went splashing over the floor as the girl pointed at Ailis. “She’s wearing a knife, she is. Going to slit our throats with it, no doubt.”

Ailis looked down at her side, having forgotten about the knife Helen had given her that morning.

She turned away from the girl but found Finley in her path with his hand out. “Give me the knife.”

“Sweet Mary and Joseph,” she exclaimed. “As if every woman here does nae have a blade stuck through her garter.”

“Perhaps so, but they are nae Robertsons.”

Ailis turned to find Marcus in the doorway, his body blocking out the sun. He surveyed the mess on the floor and grunted before closing the distance between them.

“Let’s have it, lass.”

He and Bhaic had a lot in common. It was there in the commanding way they spoke. She tugged the knife free and dropped it on the table instead of his hand. His lips twitched in response.

“As for that, it’s me brother’s dilemma how to deal with yer nature.”

She held her chin steady, feeling the weight of everyone watching them. Her pride was chafing.

“Is this to be the way of it, then?” Ailis gestured toward Finley and Lyel.

Marcus folded his arms over his chest and spread his feet, making himself look huge and impossible to move. “Aye. I can nae have ye carrying secrets back to yer father and brothers.”

“I am nae going home.” Even if it was sounding more and more like a necessity.

Marcus shook his head. “But ye still call it home, now don’t ye, lass?”

She tried to bring her tone under control. “Surely ye can nae expect me to call MacPherson Castle home when I have been here but a day.”

“I do nae,” he answered gravely. “Which is why ye’ll be watched.”

He started to turn his back on her. “Heaven forbid I should feel welcome, like a bride.”

When he looked back at her, his lips were twisted into what might have been called a grin, but on the War Chief of the MacPherson clan, it looked far more menacing.

“Ye are exactly that, Mistress Robertson. A bride, no’ a wife. So long as ye leave the matter open for annulment, I will have ye watched. Ye can nae tell me yer brothers would do any less if it were me sister walking freely through Robertson Castle.”

She wanted to hate him.

Wanted to curse him.

But she knew he had a valid point, and no matter now angry or lonely she was, she couldn’t form an argument against it.

* * *

“I’m taking a bath, so get ye gone.”

Finley snorted, but it was Lyel who answered. “We do nae answer to ye.”

Behind her there was a splash as the last of several buckets was emptied into the tub she’d had brought up the stairs. Two boys hurried out of the room, crossing themselves out of fear.

Her teeth were ready to break from how hard she was clenching her jaw.

It wasn’t so much that she needed a bath. What she was needed was a place to hide from the cutting looks and snide comments. For sure, there would be grumbling over her asking to have the tub filled, but she honestly didn’t care anymore. The sun was starting to set, tightening the apprehension that had been brewing in her since Bhaic had issued his command that morning.

“Here now…” Helen appeared at the top of the steps. Her arms were full of toweling and several bundles. “What are ye two doing inside the mistress’s chambers with her making ready to bathe? Go on, before I set the priest on ye for trying to spy a glance of another man’s wife.”

She brushed right past them and jerked her head at them. “I told ye…get. And close that door all the way. I’ll tear a strip off yer backs if I hear the hinge creaking.”

Finley was bending, moving to the other side of the door. “We’ll be right here.” He paused with his hand on the door pull. “And I mean, right here.” He tapped the floor with his foot.

Helen turned around and sent the door shut with a push from her backside. There was a snort from the other side as it closed.

“They’re just trying to put ye in yer place…” Helen muttered. “As if either of those great gobs knows a bit about what yer place is.”

“Well, I would nae want to crush them by telling them that.”

Helen smiled and offered her a wink. “That’s the way to think about it all. Lord knows ye’ll go daft if ye try to make sense of it.”

“I’m sure I’m nearly ready for Bedlam now,” Ailis confessed, feeling as tired as she sounded.

Helen moved over to a long table against one of the walls. She set down her bundles and began opening them. “Aye. I suppose ye are. But it will get easier, when the castle folk get tired of their game. They will.”

Helen moved over to the hearth and poked at the fire, making sure the two kettles were being heated. When she turned around, she caught Ailis staring at her.

“Ye’re likely wondering why I’m kind to ye.”

Ailis shrugged and sat down on a stool to begin taking off her shoes. “In truth, I’m too much of a coward to ask ye, fearing ye’ll realize yer error and turn mean.”

Helen’s face lit with a smile as laughter spilled out of her. She wasn’t that old. Possibly even the same age as Ailis herself. She had hazel eyes with golden highlights and sable-brown hair. She kept it hidden under a kitchen cap, but wisps of it had escaped to frame her face with tiny ringlets.

“I was born a Grant.” Helen made her way back to the table and rummaged through the things she’d brought. “Me father had a dispute with some MacPherson retainers. It was sorted out, but they stole me away to make sure me kin would nae retaliate, in the event they were not as satisfied with the settlement as they said they were.”

“That’s why yer arisaid is no’ a plaid.”

Helen looked over her shoulder and sent Ailis a satisfied smile. “Indeed. For certain, some will call me stubborn, but I’ll be keeping everyone guessing as to me true thoughts.”

“Is that why ye called me mistress?”

Helen shook her head and gave her a disbelieving look. “I called ye what ye are.”

“Mistress of a castle full of my enemies.”

Helen sent her a sidelong look. “Ye look fit to take them on. In truth, I believe I am going to enjoy being near ye. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good bit of amusement.”

Ailis burst out laughing.

Helen tossed a small cream-colored item up and down as she came back toward Ailis. “Soap. Duana wanted to tell me I could nae have it for ye, but I made sure to ask for it in front of witnesses. For all her spite, she’s not stupid. The young Tanis was fighting for ye today. She’ll no’ risk having him displeased with her over something like a piece of soap.”

“I suddenly see the merit in this union if there are truly people willing to take spite so far as a lump of soap.”

“Aye, ’tis a sad state of affairs,” Helen agreed.

Ailis dropped her shoes and untied her garters. She pushed her stockings down and stood up. Helen helped her untie and unlace until she was in just her skin. One of the kettles started to sputter, the water inside it boiling and sending just enough of it out of the spout to hit the flames.

Helen went to fetch it. She used her arisaid to protect her hand as she lifted the kettle and brought it over to the tub. The water flowed from the spout in a steaming stream, hissing as it hit the cold water. Helen dunked the empty kettle back into the tub to fill it and set it over the fire. She added the second kettle before using a paddle to stir the water.

“Come now. We’d best get to it, or we’ll be late to supper table. Yon retainers will likely use any tardiness as an excuse to break down the door.”

“No doubt,” Ailis agreed.

Ailis left her hair up, because there wasn’t time to wash it. The hot water had taken the chill off the water in the tub, but it was still only tepid. That didn’t stop her from enjoying it. The soap had lavender oil in it, and she smiled as she rubbed it along her arms and legs.

A bell started to toll in the distance.

“Out with ye now. That’s the cook telling everyone she’s beginning to set supper out.”

Helen had warmed a length of towel in front of the hearth. She wrapped it around Ailis as she stepped out of the tub.

There was a rap on the door. “Mistress…supper is on the table…”

Helen smothered a giggle. “Men are simple creatures. They want their hungers satisfied. Remember that, and ye’ll be just fine.”

She wasn’t likely to forget it.

“I brought ye a new chemise. I suggest we rinse out yer other one here, for there’s no telling if the laundress will take her spite out on it if we give it to her.”

“Aye.” Ailis lifted her arms, and Helen helped her into her chemise. It fluttered down her body, but the moment she could see again, she gasped.

Bhaic was standing inside the open door.

“Whooo…now that is a fine set of bosoms!” Finley exclaimed.

“I warned ye.” Helen grabbed the paddle she’d stirred the bath water with and went tearing after Finley.

Bhaic jumped out of her way as the two retainers stumbled, trying to flee down the stairs.

“I suppose that’s one way to deal with them,” he said with a chuckle.

Bhaic kicked the door shut and turned back to face her.

“Ye might have knocked.” Ailis propped her hands on her hips. “I realize everyone in this castle seems to think they need to know our personal business, but did ye truly need to let that fat, smelly fart see me bare?”

Bhaic peered at her with an incredulous expression for at least one minute before he started chuckling. “Fat, smelly fart?”

Then he was laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut.

She groaned and picked up her skirt to shield herself. “Go on with ye. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve dressed. Ye did nae need to fetch me. I am no’ spying.”

So accustomed to being trusted, she felt keenly the suspicion surrounding her.

He sobered. “I suppose ’tis been a long day for ye.”

There was a hint of compassion in his tone. She shied away from it, unwilling to let him see her wounds. She gestured him toward the door with her hand. “I’ll be along, and in any event, I’m sure yer brother’s men will make sure of it.”

“Helen seems to have run them off.”

“I’m sure ye’ll feel the need to warn her against doing that as well.” She hadn’t meant to let the words out, but the day had worn down her resolve.

Bhaic slowly grinned. “I’m pretty sure she’d ignore me. Figures ye’d manage to find the only lass in the kitchens with a reason to want to needle me and me brother.”

“It’s no’ as if either of us has many options as far as finding pleasant company.” She forced herself to drop her skirt. The man had seen her in a chemise before. “But she’s the one being kind to me.”

Now he’s seen ye without it too…

Well, that was just fine as well. She sat down and pulled her stockings on, tying her garters to keep them secure. She pushed her feet into her ankle boots before tugging the laces tight and standing up.

“I believe I am going to owe her a boon.” Ailis secured her hip roll as Bhaic spoke. Next came her skirts. Her fingers were shaking as she reached for them.

Stop being a ninny; ye’re dressing, not undressing…

Not that being clothed would keep him from having her if he wanted.

“Because I came to ask ye to run away with me. Having her chase off yer escort is right timely.”

She’d lifted her skirt up and had to pull it down before she might look at him. He’d bent down and picked up her overskirt.

“Have a notion to try yer luck at me father’s table?” she asked. No matter how nervous she was, she couldn’t help but laugh at the idea.

Bhaic grinned. “Nay. I’m no’ sure I’m as good at holding me temper as ye are.”

She took her overskirt from him and got into it, tying it closed before he handed her the bodice.

“I’ve no taste for the scrutiny either,” he offered as she worked the laces through the eyelets on her bodice.

“So I came up here to ask ye to run away with me for an evening ride,” he continued, “but I’ll admit, I found myself tongue-tied when I realized I’d be asking ye to put yer clothes back on for it. Part of me rebels completely at that idea.”

He was chuckling again, his features transforming into a visage that was really quite handsome.

“No’ sure yer reputation will survive such a thing?” she teased.

“No’ if Marcus hears of it,” he confirmed gravely.

“Or Angus?”

Bhaic nodded agreement. “Among others.”

They were both smiling, clearly still unsure about being easy in each other’s company.

There was a rap on the door, and Helen pushed it in a moment later. “Left those fools at the base of the stairs, and if they do nae want their skulls caved in, they’ll stay there.”

She stopped abruptly as she found herself facing Bhaic, but she didn’t simper in front of him, only gave him a nod before scooping up Ailis’s arisaid and beginning to fold it on the table.

With Helen’s help, Ailis was soon finished. Bhaic offered her his hand. She didn’t ponder the decision long. If there was an alternative to sitting through another supper in the hall, she’d take it.

Even if it included the rather unsettling persona of her husband.

He clasped her hand, his eyes flickering with enjoyment.

“Helen, ye have no idea where we’ve gone.”

“I feel me memory clouding. However…” Helen crossed to them and unbuckled Ailis’s belt. “Ye’ll be wanting to leave these Robertson colors here, else everyone will take notice of yer passing.”

Helen pulled her own arisaid loose and handed it to Ailis. Bhaic took the length of wool and slung it over his shoulder.

Bhaic pulled her toward the door, but looked back at Helen. “And warn the laundress that I’ll be having words with anyone who forgets Ailis is me bride.”

Helen scoffed at him. “Ye may do that yerself.” She scooped up the chemise and walked to the tub to dunk it. “I’d rather look after the lass meself than tangle with the lot of women ye have in this castle. Arrogant lot. It’s no wonder most of the babes have red hair. No one is willing to wed an outsider. Mark me words, that sort of thing makes the blood thin.”

* * *

“I truly like Helen.”

They’d crossed into the stairway. Bhaic looked back at her. “Because she told me nay?”

Ailis nodded.

He rolled his eyes, but the grin stayed on his lips. “Suppose she’s entitled. I forgot she was here.”

He pulled her up the stairs and across a landing before going down another set on the other side of the tower.

“How could ye forget something like that? And how long has she been here?”

“Since last spring.” He shrugged and kept going, pulling her along behind him. “I was nae the one who took her. Marcus did.” They made it to the bottom of the stairs. He pulled her close as he looked into the passageway. He tapped his lips with his finger, warning her to be silent. Finley and Lyel were leaning against the stone wall on the other side of the landing, both of them looking up.

“We’re going to starve if she does nae get down here,” Lyel groused. “Let’s go and get her.”

“Well ye can just go first. That way, that she devil of a Grant will use up her spite on yer skull.”

Lyel hesitated, but he finally set his mind to it and started up the stairs, Finley on his heels.

“Now’s our chance, lass.”

She bit back a giggle as Bhaic tugged her through the passageway, hugging the walls to stay in the shadows. There was a swirl of excitement in her belly, a hint of anticipation stroking her insides. Other girls could sneak into the shadows for a kiss, but not her. No, not the laird’s daughter.

But she’d thought about it more than a time or two.

It was strange to have Bhaic MacPherson helping her experience such a forbidden thing, but then again, maybe he was the only man who could take her away into the night.

For kisses…

She blushed, grateful he wasn’t looking at her.

Well, maybe there would be kisses… What was wrong with that?

He was her husband, wasn’t he?

He clicked his tongue when they neared the outer doorway. There was a snort in response. Fires were being lit on the walls so the sentries could keep watch, but the castle was still shrouded in darkness.

“Here now, lass, give me yer foot.” He’d cupped his hands to offer her a step up. His stallion was eying her as she pulled her skirt out of the way and let Bhaic help her gain the back of the beast. The stallion was intimidating, in height and sheer bulk. Bhaic swung up behind her, sending a shiver through her as she ended up pressed against him. A light rain had started to fall.

“Do ye mind the rain, lass?”

He’d pressed the horse into motion, riding away from the castle and heading for the outer wall.

“Less than the scrutiny of the hall.”

“Aye.”

He covered her head with Helen’s arisaid and locked his arm around her waist to secure her against him. They moved in unison with the motion of the horse, his body chasing the night chill away. The sentry eyed them but didn’t cry an alarm as Bhaic rode through the gate.

* * *

“Ye’ll get yer hand off me…”

Finley snarled something in Gaelic as he tugged Helen down the last few steps. Lyel was behind the woman, doing little good, because he was loath to actually put his hands on her.

Marcus stood there, offering her a glare that unsettled most men.

Helen tossed her head and boldly stepped up to face him. “Ye did nae need to have yer hounds collect me. I am no’ afraid of ye.”

“So ye have mentioned before, mistress.”

Helen glared at him. “Well? What do ye want from me?”

Marcus’s lips slowly curved. Helen’s eyes narrowed. She started to flounce past him, but he put his arm out, cupping her shoulder and turning her around so her back was against the wall.

“Leave us,” he said.

The position gave her an excellent view of Finley and Lyel making haste toward the hall. Her insides twisted as she realized she was quite alone with Marcus.

“Where did yer mistress go?” he asked.

Marcus was accustomed to getting what he wanted, either by sheer force of will or cunning. Fortunately, she was immune to him.

“Me memory is clouded.” She tried to slip along the wall.

Marcus pressed a hand on the wall next to her, caging her. “We can stay here as long as it takes for ye to recall.”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage. “But if me behavior unsettles ye, best ye recall quickly.”

“Unsettles?” she scoffed. “I hardly recall ye draw breath. Is that no’ the same way ye feel about me?”

“Longing for me attention, are ye?” He continued looking at her cleavage, in defiance of every rule of decent conduct.

“I long to be free to return home,” she shot back. “Ye dropped me in yonder courtyard without a backward glance, and a warning that ye’d burn me father’s house if I went back there.”

He raised his attention to her face, abandoning his attempts at intimidation. “Ye seem to have fared well enough.”

She didn’t care for the compliment. No, not at all, because there was nothing she wanted to like about the burly War Chief.

Nothing.

She lifted her foot and he curled in, expecting an attack on his groin, which left his shin wide open. He jerked and jumped back as she landed the blow. Helen made full use of the opportunity and escaped into the hall, where supper was being served. Marcus was on her heels. He cupped her elbow.

“We’re nae finished, mistress. Ye can be sure of that.” Yet he seemed loath to drag her back in the face of so many watching them.

“And ye may be certain that I will never help ye with a single thing so long as I draw breath.”

She jerked her elbow from his grip, but not before she heard a husky chuckle.

Her heart was pounding as she made her way away from him. Damned brute. It always unsettled her to see the man who’d so easily ordered her abduction.

That was the only reason she’d allow into her mind for her accelerated heart rate.

The only one.

* * *

“Here, lass…”

Bhaic had guided them across the land bridge and through the village until he could once again climb onto the high ground. A body of water stood between them and MacPherson Castle. The moon shone off its smooth surface as the stars came out.

“There used to be an astrologer here,” Bhaic said. “He died a few seasons past.”

There was a small building that might have been called a home as easily as it could have been labeled a workshop. It was an odd, two-story structure, perched on the highest point of land. There was even a single-stall stable built onto it.

“When he grew older, his knees were nae so good, so me father had a horse here for him to use when he needed to get about.” Bhaic slid off the back of the stallion and reached up to help her down. “Me father enjoyed the man’s predictions and rarely made a business move without first consulting with old Maeburn.”

He led the stallion around and into the stall. There was a trough Bhaic filled with oats.

“Ye keep the place stocked?” Ailis asked.

“Aye.” He removed the bridle from the stallion and rubbed the beast’s nose before the horse went looking for the feed. “Ye are nae the only one who feels the weight of those watching in the hall.” He looked up at the building. “Sometimes I come here to look up at things that are far removed from anything MacPherson.”

He offered her his hand, and she laid hers into it, earning a grin. Excitement glittered in his eyes. “The second floor is quite interesting.”

He pulled her inside and shut the door, releasing her in order to lower the bar. He took a good look around the room before moving farther into it. As far as rooms went, it was a good size. There was a hearth, with an iron bar for roasting meat, and a hook to suspend a pot from. Wood was stacked up beside it.

“Lighting a candle will ruin the view,” he said. “Do ye mind the darkness?”

“It is nae so dark.”

In fact, the second floor of the structure seemed to be glowing. There was a loft with a steep stairway. Bhaic gestured her up behind him. “Hold on.”

“Easy for ye to say,” she said with a laugh. “Ye are nae wearing a skirt.”

She struggled to keep her skirt out of the way of her feet. “I wish Helen had left me my belt.”

Bhaic was watching her from the second floor. “Aye, I can see how that would have made things simpler. But I’m grateful she took yer colors from ye.”

She’d almost reached the top when he grasped her waist and pulled her the rest of the way up. He held her against him, the scent of his skin filling her senses.

“Because now I have ye all to meself.”

His tone had turned husky. She ended up resting her hands on his chest, her fingertips suddenly becoming far more sensitive than she’d realized they might be. His breath teased her temple, tempting her to raise her face for his kiss.

Instead, she turned to look at what was glowing. She felt him hesitate to release her.

“Aye…this is what I wanted to show ye.”

He hooked his arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip as he guided her forward. There was a huge glass window that went from waist high to the roof. It was made of squares of glass, all set with thin lengths of iron between them.

“It’s breathtaking.”

It surely was. The moon was full and looked like a glowing ball across the lake. All of the stars were in view, but without the harshness of biting wind.

“Aye, a truly stunning sight.”

Bhaic wasn’t looking at the view. He was watching her. She turned her face toward his, drawn to the husky promise in his voice. It wasn’t something she thought about. No, she was responding to something she felt deep inside her belly.

He cupped the side of her face, holding her steady for his kiss. She saw it coming, felt time freeze as he came closer and closer, finally making contact. He tried to start softly, but she lifted up onto her toes to meet him, craving the connection.

He shifted, pushing his hand along her cheek and cupping her nape to hold her steady. The kiss turned demanding, his mouth moving across hers in a firm motion that made her thoughts spin. She let it all go, kissing him back, searching for the motion, trying to mimic the way he was using his mouth against hers. Sweet sensation tore through her, racing down her spine and curling her toes. It stole her breath, leaving her feeling as if she’d been spun around and around until she was ready to fall down.

She pulled away, turning toward the windows. “I should…thank ye for offering me an alternative to supper in the hall. ’Tis truly a majestic sight here.”

She was struggling to catch her breath, but so was he. That surprised her. She could hear him breathing heavily, heard the slight scuff of his boots against the floorboards as he came toward her.

“I had planned on stealing kisses after I fed ye, but well, what can I say? Ye’re a Robertson. I feel the need to do me stealing first thing.”

There was a playful note in his tone, and it touched something inside her. She’d never thought she’d feel this way with a MacPherson. She laughed and shoved him in the shoulder. “I should cuff ye for it. Did nae yer mother teach ye any manners at all?”

In that moment, he might have been anyone. Heat teased her cheeks as the moonlight highlighted his features.

He shrugged. “Nay. She died when I was still waist high.”

He turned and picked something up. It was a large wicker basket with a cloth covering the top.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shook out the cloth and let it settle on the floor. “Yers did too, did she nae?” He offered her a hand and eased her down to the floor.

“Aye. Just after me second brother was born. Childbed fever took her. I do nae remember her.”

He set the basket between them and settled on the floor on the other side of it. He started rummaging through it. “I had to grab what I could before Duana noticed what I was about.”

He started tossing things to her. A plate, a goblet, a napkin.

“Ah…port,” he exclaimed victoriously as he held up a bottle.

“Better confess later,” she said, “else some poor kitchen lad is likely to be blamed for thieving that.” Ailis held out her goblet as Bhaic poured her some. “Duana is nae one to let something like port go unaccounted for.”

“Aye, she likes to run the kitchens her way.” Bhaic didn’t find another goblet in the basket. He shrugged and took a swig directly from the bottle. “But she’ll be doing some bending.”

She was caught in an odd moment of both embarrassment and contentment. Both stemmed from the fact that he was willing to champion her.

“I can fight me own battles,” she said with a touch of determination.

He took another swig from the bottle and put it down so he could rummage through the basket again. “Marcus would enjoy having you trying to kill him a little too much. He’s a rogue, never doubt it.”

“I didn’t mean I’d actually try to…well, brawl.”

He pulled another plate from the basket; this one had a roasted chicken on it. The scent teased her nose and made her belly rumble. A chunk of cheese was shoved onto the side of the plate, the heat from the meat melting part of it. Bhaic placed it between them and offered her an eating knife.

He tore into the chicken and sliced up the cheese. There was a round of bread and some sweet butter for it. The silence grew as the meat disappeared between them. The port was easy to turn to as a remedy for her nerves, but she stopped when she realized she was losing her wits.

“Aye,” Bhaic said, setting the bottle away. “We’ll both end up babbling like fools and wake up trying to remember if we consummated our union or not.”

“Is that why ye brought me out here?”

His features tightened. “I did nae have to bring ye here for that, Ailis. Grant me a wee bit of credit for trying me hand at courting ye.”

She looked up at the moon, feeling foolish and a bit unkind. “It is an impressive view.”

“Aye.” He lifted the basket away and took its place. “But we’re no’ enjoying it quite…right.”

He scooted right up beside her. She shivered, feeling small beside him. He laid an arm across her back, slowly, almost hesitantly as he waited to see her reaction.

He didn’t have to woo her.

Ailis drew in a deep breath and relaxed. It took all of her nerve.

He was overwhelming her again.

The smallest contact between them felt extreme. Her skin prickled, her heart pounded, and her breathing sped up when she caught the scent of his skin. Never once had she decided she liked the way anyone smelled, besides a baby.

She liked the way Bhaic smelled.

But in a completely different fashion.

Oh yes. What she liked about his scent was the way it made her feel small. He was stronger, and that fact didn’t alarm her—it set her blood to racing as he teased the side of her neck with his fingertips.

“I brought ye here…so we might learn to be easy in each other’s company.”

His voice was a whisper, a soft suggestion that might just as well have been coming from inside her. She’d never been one for believing in spells, but at that moment, she was certain she was enchanted by him.

He didn’t have to make the effort. She’d have done her duty if he demanded it. That made her cheeks heat even more, churning up a desire to be more than just his duty. She turned and reached up, laying her fingers against his jaw.

It was a powerful connection, making her glad she was sitting, because she was fairly sure her knees had gone weak.

“Since ye’ve done yer best to impress me, I owe ye a token of me gratitude.”

His face was in shadow now, but she swore she saw his eyes glittering. He eased her forward with his hand, gently encouraging her when she hesitated.

It seemed to take forever to commence with the kiss. Time became a slow-moving thing that allowed her to be aware of every breath she took. Her lips tingled with awareness, anticipation twisting down her spine and pulling her insides tight. It was exhilarating.

Bhaic waited for her.

His jaw tightened, and the hand on his knee was clenching his plaid.

Waiting…for her to kiss him.

She pressed her mouth against his, feeling him adjust the angle of his head so that they fit seamlessly. Their breath mingled, hers catching as she pressed her lips to his, a soft motion that made her shudder with the intensity. It opened up a yearning for more, and she parted her lips, working them against his in a slow action of discovery.

His hand slid to her nape, cupping it and holding her in place. But he didn’t take the lead from her. He followed her, letting her tease and taste his lips. Her thoughts scattered, leaving her a willing voyager on the waves of delight. She wanted to be closer, wanted to open his mouth wider. A moment later, the kiss was harder. Hungrier. It shocked her, and for one insane moment, she happily flung herself into it.

But it was madness, and everything was crumbling around her, leaving her with nothing to hold on to. She pulled back, gasping when she realized how brazen she was being.

“That was worth every damned blow Marcus landed.”

His tone was hard. She eased away from him, suddenly shy. “It couldn’t have been. I do nae know very much about…kissing.”

He stroked her jawline. “Ye’ll no’ make light of it, lass. ’Twas a kiss freely given and I’ll no’ allow ye to take it back. Marcus is no’ the only rogue in the family.”

She shoved him playfully away. “I did nae doubt it.”

But what now?

He had every right.

Every right…

He wanted more. She could feel the hunger between them. His grip on her nape was still solid, his jaw tight as he leaned close.

“Ah, Christ…” he swore softly. “I just recalled what I hate about courting.”

He stood up in a swift motion and reached back down to pull her off the floor. For a moment, she was only an inch away from him, her hands resting on his arms as her skirt pressed against his body. His breath teased her lips, the darkness surrounding them a perfect cloak for the hunger flickering inside her.

“It’s frustrating,” he muttered. “Damned frustrating.”

He found the basket and scooped up everything in a few swift motions. “I am no’ having ye for the first time on the floor.” He was down the steep steps in a swish of his kilt. “Let’s go home.”

He offered her his hand. She made it to the bottom floor before she let the word “home” hit her. It sat uneasily on her stomach as they left the astrologer’s house and mounted. Bhaic pulled his plaid around them both as they rode back across the land bridge and through the gate.

Someone rang the bell, recognizing Bhaic.

“That will raise hell,” he said before pulling up on the reins. Boys were running out of the stable, reaching up to tug on the corners of their bonnets. One of them reached up for her, helping her down as Marcus appeared on the steps of the keep.

“Tempting fate, Brother?” Marcus asked.

“What I was tempting is between me and me wife.”

Bhaic pulled her behind him through the keep. There was an assortment of musicians playing now, the retainers enjoying mugs of ale as the household staff pinched out most of the candles to save them. The hallways were lit with torches. Bhaic took her up the steps and stopped in front of her chamber door.

“Do ye remember what is above this, lass?”

“Aye.” She was breathless and unable to blame it on the rapid climb. No, it was Bhaic and the ideas he stirred in her that were making her heart race.

“I want ye in me bed, Ailis.”

Her breath froze in her throat. His tone was dark and full of a promise that lured her closer to him.

He enclosed her in his embrace, sealing her completely against him. Letting her feel his body. Making sure she felt his strength.

“Yet I want ye there because ye choose to be, for more than the words ye were forced to speak with me inside that church.” He stroked her jawline, his touch delicate and stirring. “Me brother will call me a fool, but I’ll be waiting for ye to come to me.”

She gasped, stunned.

He nodded once before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her mouth. It was hard and demanding, but he didn’t linger over her lips. He pulled away, and she felt the night air rushing in between them, chilling her.

“Come to me, and I’ll prove a patient lover. I promise ye that.”

He was gone a moment later, the shadows swallowing him as he climbed to the next floor.

Ye want to go…

Aye and yet nae. She discovered herself smiling and smothering a giggle beneath her hand.

Hadn’t she gone to May Day seeking courtship? It was surely a pleasant surprise to discover her husband willing to wait on her whim. There were footsteps on the stairs, Finlay’s banter coming up ahead of him. Ailis turned and entered her chamber.

The tub was gone, and the room smelled fresher than it had before. Her chemise was fluttering on a drying rack near the fire, proving that Helen had returned to see the chamber righted. Beyond the arched doorway, a candle was burning on the bedside table, warmly welcoming her.

Bhaic had provided a warm welcome too.

She settled into her bed and pinched out the candle with a smile on her lips. She was suddenly exhausted. Far too tired to entertain the doubt that tried to wiggle past her contentment and remind her that Bhaic might turn mean whenever it suited him.

She wouldn’t think of that.

No, instead, she recalled the ride to the astrologer’s house and the fact that Bhaic hadn’t needed to take her there. Never once had she realized how a man’s pride might be something she’d be happy to contend with.

Tonight, she found herself very pleased to know Bhaic MacPherson was stubborn enough to want only a willing woman in his bed.

Even a Robertson wife.

* * *

Helen had the paddle she’d chased Finley down the stairs with hanging from her belt the next morning.

Ailis was still rubbing her eyes. She was pretty sure she’d spent more time thinking about Bhaic than sleeping during the night. She stopped and looked at the paddle.

Helen noticed the attention and sent her a smug smile as she reached down to pat it gently. “The cook sent me out of the kitchens. Seems there’s no place there anymore for someone who does nae loathe Robertsons.”

Ailis made a small clicking sound under her breath. “How devastating for ye.”

Helen snorted in response. “Deliverance, at last. Me father does nae have a castle, but he’s a fine country home. One I was raised to run. Turning bread day in and day out was about to make me daft. I’ve never suffered boredom well.”

“I know the feeling.”

Ailis started to crawl out of bed. The bedding was so thick and the bed itself far larger than anything she’d ever slept in before.

“Tonight will be interesting,” Helen said.

Ailis looked to Helen to explain.

“It’s the laird’s monthly court.”

Ailis shrugged and picked up her comb. Helen took it from her and began to work the tangles from her hair.

“As the Tanis’s wife, tradition dictates—” Helen continued.

“Holy Christ!” Ailis exploded.

Helen chuckled. “I see things are nae so different on Robertson land.”

“No, but I did nae sit on the high ground during manorial court, because I was the laird’s daughter.”

Helen finished with the comb and pointed to a chair. Ailis sat down. Helen came up behind her and started to weave her hair into an elaborate braid.

“Well, ye’re the wife of the Tanis now. It’s yer place to rule on any issues between women that are of a delicate nature.”

And only a handful of people knew the truth of her unconsummated vows. She was in a precarious position, one that might end in disaster, whichever way she went. Well, there was only one way her life was going to go.

“It seems I will no’ be the only one doing adjusting,” Ailis said, more to remind herself that she was staying than to answer Helen.

Helen began pinning up her braid. “Well now, it will certainly be a test of yer position.”

“Aye,” Ailis agreed. “It seems ye may have blighted yerself by being kind to me.”

Helen finished and offered her a smug look. “Duana can kiss me Grant arse.”

“Me Robertson one too.”

The moment brought her the first hint of friendship. It wasn’t MacPherson, but it was a beginning. Every new bride had to suffer through being a stranger. She’d heard such lectures since she was small, but they had lacked all reality until now.

Now things were very different. Suddenly, she understood how easily it might be to cling to her husband. Take the intimacy required of marriage as a sign of affection.

She smiled ruefully. It wasn’t as if she had many other offers of companionship.

Well, she’d make a place for herself, by God.

And Duana could just become accustomed to it.

* * *

“Is it bride or wife?”

Bhaic wiped the sweat off his brow and looked past the young stallion he was working with to see his brother leaning up against the corral fencing.

“I do nae care to get kicked because I’m talking to ye instead of minding what I’m about.”

The stallion’s ears perked up, a shrill sound coming from him. Bhaic turned, allowing the animal enough rope to feel comfortable.

Marcus pressed the issue. “Bride or wife?”

“Bride, if ye must know.” Bhaic turned on his brother. “Because I will no’ be a rutting bastard, jumping on her while going on about me rights.”

“Yet it is yer right.”

“Devil take that,” Bhaic snapped. “And ye. I enjoy enticing a lass into me bed as much as ye do, and I will nae be having Ailis any other way.”

His kilt flared out, his motion too swift. The stallion let out a snort and reared up. Bhaic cursed and dove through the rails, tucking his head and rolling over his shoulder and back onto his feet.

He ended up looking at his brother’s feet. Marcus stood there his expression grim. “She’s skittish. If she bolts for her father’s land, this feud yer marriage is meant to end might have new life breathed into it. Better to settle the business.”

Bhaic got to his feet and glared at his brother. “Beware how little sympathy ye have for us, Marcus. Morton could easily decide ye would make a fine alliance with the bloody English.”

“English ladies do nae transplant well into our highlands.”

“I agree full well, but the good earl did nae ask neither me or me bride how welcome she’d be on MacPherson land. In truth, I doubt he cares.”

Marcus grunted. “Aye, ye have that thinking right. The earl is set on securing his future. We’re meant to fall into line.”

“Let it be,” Bhaic said. “If ye must know the details, she did nae refuse me. No’ even the first night.”

His brother slowly smiled. “I would nae be talking to ye if I did nae already know where the difficulty lie.”

“Figured it out, did ye?”

Marcus shrugged. “Aye. The only one in this family more stubborn than ye, is meself.”

“Agreement between us at last,” Bhaic declared. Bhaic suddenly looked past his brother. “What in the name of Christ?”

Finley was coming up the road, dragging Ailis with him. Lyel had hold of Helen and even had his dagger pressed against her neck. Other retainers had joined in, some of them pushing Ailis when she resisted.

“I’d like to know the answer to that meself,” Marcus said softly.

“Get yer hands off me wife,” Bhaic roared.

Ailis hadn’t been looking up the road. She jerked her attention toward the sound of his voice, and he was sure she snarled. Finley happily pushed her forward.

The retainer shook his head and stomped over to where Bhaic and Marcus were. He pointed an incriminating finger at Ailis. “She’s been brawling with Duana. Turned over one of the tables in the kitchen. There’s a hell of a mess down there. Ye should have heard the ruckus. Ye’d have thought the devil himself had set his arse down in front of the hearth.”

Helen was shoved forward too, righting herself and turning to look at Lyel. He crossed himself and moved away from her. There was a swelling around his eye, enough to turn black in a few hours.

“Christ in heaven, Ailis. What are ye doing to me home?” Bhaic demanded.

She was beating flour off her skirt, but looked up when he spoke. The look in her eyes was pure hellfire.

“My duties,” she snapped, stomping over to stand in front of him.

“Suddenly devoted, are ye, lass?” Marcus asked softly.

She clenched her hands into fists as she growled at his brother.

Bhaic stepped between them. “What sort of duties could possibly entail fighting with Duana?”

“The kitchen books. I was looking at them, and she took exception.”

“Ye mean she walked right up and slapped ye,” Helen interrupted. “As well as calling ye a spy. Yer damned men kept the mistress from giving that crone the slap she deserved.”

“Well now…she’d already turned the table over,” Finley said, defending himself. “There’s a mess down there for sure. Cider and ale all over the floor, along with half the bread for supper. The hounds made good use of the time. Tore into the kitchens and ate everything they could. It will be a poor supper to be sure.” Finley was shaking his head, Lyel joining his fellow retainer.

“The table turned over because I stood up so fast. God’s breath! I certainly didn’t think she’d actually hit me for looking at the books,” Ailis said.

“Those are MacPherson books.” Marcus spoke softly. She recognized the tone now as one of suspicion.

But what bothered her the most was the unreadable expression on Bhaic’s face. Any hint of the man who’d teased her in the moonlight was gone. In its place was the man she’d feared her husband would turn out to be.

Suspicious and unyielding, because she was his enemy’s daughter. She wondered if anyone would ever trust her enough to let her make MacPherson land her true home. More than one bride had faced such a fate, retreating to her chambers and weaving tapestries because there was nothing else for her.

She nearly gagged on the horror of how real a possibility such a fate was.

“So what is me place to be then?” she demanded. “Am I naught but yer mare for breeding?”

She reached out and shoved him. “Perhaps I shall just go make meself comfortable in the stable then, and wait for ye to decide it’s time for me to foal.”

Staying still was impossible. It felt as if a rock was pressing down on her. She picked up her skirts and left, hearing Marcus mutter “spitfire” behind her.

She cringed. There seemed no hope of making a place for herself, as no one was willing to let her squeeze even a marginal spot open.

She made it to the stable and was inside before Bhaic hooked her arm and turned her about.

“Ye’re putting words in me mouth, Ailis. Taking things too much to heart.”

She balled her fingers into a fist and took a swing at him. “Too much too heart? More the fool I for trying to be anything other than yer enemy.”

He avoided her easily, stepping aside and wrapping his arms around her when she stumbled past him. He pulled her against him and locked her in place in front of him.

“Let me go!”

“Nae a chance,” he said next to her ear.

She strained against his arms, but he held her easily, carrying her back into a stall that smelled of fresh hay. He released her, and she spun away from him, but the stall had solid sides as high as her chest, so all she did was end up facing him.

“The books…is that what women do during the day?”

His question caught her off guard. “Of course. If they do nae balance, ’tis me failing. If any of the kitchen staff, right down to the smallest lad, go barefoot, it is me shame for no’ keeping track of when they are due their measure.” She spoke as though he were an ignorant child but stopped when she noticed he was truly listening to her. Shame nipped at her when she realized he truly had no idea what she was so angry about.

“Aye…I suppose I recall seeing Duana tending to some of that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as though he was fighting the urge to reach for her.

Her belly twisted, the privacy of the setting hitting her like a blast of heat. But giving into the impulse would make her little better than a mare. Duana would still be refusing to let her take her place when passion cooled.

She took a deep breath and locked gazes with him.

“Ye should know, for it will be yer name that is dragged through the muck if I fail. There will be plenty saying ye have a poor wife, and that ye are a miser who doesn’t appreciate devoted service. I’d just as soon no’ give any of them more reason to curse me name.”

He grunted and uncrossed his arms. “Do ye know what I do during the day, lass?”

Her anger was deserting her, melting away as she was forced to shake her head.

“We both have things to learn about being married,” he said. “I’ll have words with Duana.”

“Ye will nae,” Ailis shot back.

He grunted and stepped toward her. “Ye’re me wife. If she slapped ye, she’ll be answering to me.”

“If I am yer wife, then ’tis me place to see to the staff, and I’ll be doing that without ye. I am no’ a weakling. If yer cursed retainers had no’ dragged me away, I would have given her what she had coming.” She drew in a deep breath and searched her mind for a polite way to get her point across. “Would ye have me dealing with yer captains when they are unruly?”

His stern expression cracked, his lips twitching into a grin that transformed his face into something far too roguish for her to be truly furious with.

“Marcus is correct. Ye’re a spitfire sure enough.”

“I am nae,” she argued, but part of her enjoyed knowing he thought she had spirit.

His eyes glittered with anticipation as he started to close the distance between them.

She was cornered, but she tossed her head, refusing to surrender. Her cursed female body was warming, tempting her to recall just how much she enjoyed his touch.

“Stand aside. I am going back down to the kitchens and getting me house in order.”

He only took another step toward her, opening his arms to make it harder for her to edge around him.

“If ’tis yer house, lass, that means ye’re me wife…”

She nodded, understanding him perfectly. “Aye. I told ye, I keep me promises.”

He shrugged out of his sword belt and hung it on the post that made the doorway to the stall, crocking his finger at her. “Then come here. Wife.”

“Why?” She lost the battle to stand in her place, backing into the stall and trying to slip along its wall toward the opening.

His lips curved into a huge grin. “Because I want to roll in the hay with ye.”

Her eyes widened, her attention shifting to the newly laid bed of hay beneath her feet. She was actually sinking into it, all the way to her ankles.

“Why so much hay?”

“I’ve got a mare ready to foal.”

She jerked her attention up, but he was right in front of her. Just a half step from her. She might have recoiled if he’d touched her. But he stood there, waiting for her to do something. The only thing she could manage was a soft gasp.

She felt as though she was melting, everything inside of her warming to his presence. She’d never been so aware of a man before. Never felt her nipples tingle because one was near.

Bhaic was only a breath away. His scent mixed with the aroma of the hay, his blue eyes full of promise.

He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Her heart skipped a beat, her knees suddenly feeling weak.

“Is this another attempt to impress me?” She wasn’t really sure what she was saying. Thoughts felt difficult to form, impossible to make sense of.

He slipped his hand into her hair and plucked a hairpin from it, and then another, and a third before he answered.

“I did nae crush ye to me and kiss ye quiet,” he offered.

“Maybe that’s what I wanted.” It was a terrible thing to voice, but true nonetheless.

He chuckled at her. “Aye. I know it’s what ye crave, lass. Give me credit for giving ye the time to be easy with it.”

Easy? She couldn’t grasp how being with him might ever be easy.

She shifted back, the hay rustling as she moved. He’d found more of her hairpins, and her braid started to sag onto her nape.

She turned around, completely unsure of why she was letting him take her hair down, only sure that she was enjoying the way it felt to be free with him.

“That’s it, lass…” He stroked her neck, setting off ripples of delight that raised gooseflesh across her skin. “Let me woo ye gently. We’ll get to the passion, once ye trust me.”

His voice was deep and sensual, luring her past her reservations. He tugged the last pin free, and her braid dropped down her back. She felt the ribbon tie slipping loose before the strands of her hair started to free themselves.

“Ye’ve a fine mane…” He was combing her hair loose, her eyes slipping closed at the intimacy. She’d never realized how lonely she was. How much she craved being touched. It was as if a wall had been broken down inside her, in a place that she thought was as big as it might ever be. Now, there were more chambers, secret ones that she was eager to explore.

He buried his face in the strands of her unbound hair, inhaling and making a soft, male sound of enjoyment. She opened her eyes, turning around to see his expression.

“Ye doubt how attractive ye are?” he asked.

She lifted one shoulder in a soft shrug. “It’s no’ as if any of me father’s men were allowed to tell me I was ugly as sin. I was nae vain enough to take such as confirmation of how pretty I might be.”

“More likely, he spent a fair amount of time making sure they minded how they looked at ye.”

He cupped her cheek, taking that last half step toward her. “For ye are a fine-looking woman.” He slipped his hand into her hair, cupping her head, and tilted his head to the side so that he might press his mouth to hers.

It was a firmer kiss than she’d been expecting. His mouth claiming her with the passion he’d obviously been holding back. It stunned her, but it also stroked something inside her that seemed to be waiting for her to let it loose. A boldness that once recognized, refused to be ignored.

She reached for him, wanting to know what he felt like. He groaned, his chest rumbling with the sound as she flattened her hands on him and fought to undo the buttons on his shirt.

What she craved was his skin.

The kiss changed again. Bhaic pressed her lips open and teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She froze, trying to decide how to move her lips. He eased her into it, teaching her the motions.

He let her go, keeping his mouth on hers as he ripped open his doublet and shirt. He tossed the doublet down and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as he lowered her to the ground.

Everything around them seemed so insignificant. The only details she seemed to have a mind to focus on were ones associated with Bhaic.

She reached for him, sliding her hands up his chest and threading her fingers through the crisp hair there. He came to rest beside her.

But he wanted to be on top of her…

She saw the strain in his jaw as he reined in his desire. His eyes glittered with it. But he leaned down and kissed her cheek, and then her neck, and then she really lost track of everything she’d been trying to think about. There was only the touch of his mouth against her skin and the yearning to have him kiss more of her.

He popped the lace on her bodice, freeing her breasts with a few sure motions of his fingers. Her insides twisted, but she decided she enjoyed it now.

God in heaven did she enjoy the way he touched her…

It was a wicked confession. One that made her open her eyes wide and stare at him. All she saw was his dark hair as he kissed his way across her chest. He gently cupped one of her breasts, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. He lifted his head and locked gazes with her.

“Do ye like that?”

He was smoothing his fingers around the globes of her breasts, watching her as he brushed his thumb over the tips of her beaded nipples.

“Ailis?”

She rolled her lips in, unbearably shy. He made a soft sound under his breath and kissed her until she relaxed her mouth.

“I want to know that ye like me touch”—he moved his hand to her other breast—“that ye lay with me out of more than duty.”

Bhaic MacPherson had never struck her as someone who doubted anything. Yet she could see a flicker of need in his eyes.

“I like yer touch,” she whispered. “And yer kiss…”

She reached up and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down as she lifted her head off the ground to meet him. The kiss was hard, full of passion, and she eagerly met him. He pushed her back down, giving her a taste of his strength, and she gave it right back to him.

She was twisting toward him, aching for something. Her skirts felt impossibly heavy and hot, the air against her bare breasts absolutely perfect. He caught her hip and pulled her against him. She gasped, arching back as she raised her thigh to hook her leg over his hip.

It was so natural, so instinctual. So very necessary.

She was burning and completely uncaring of anything besides him. All that mattered was feeding the craving flickering through her insides. She wanted more, needed something deeper.

Bhaic pulled her skirt up, freeing her from its suffocating folds. He cupped her knees and stroked her thigh.

She arched toward him, humming with pleasure.

“Aye, lass, ye like being petted.”

“By ye.” She stole a peek at him, her breath catching when she saw his expression.

He wanted to possess her.

The desire was glittering in his eyes. His jaw was tight with need, shocking her. Exciting her.

He reached around and boldly cupped one side of her bottom, pulling her toward him as he settled between her open thighs. She closed her eyes, letting the heat consume her. Her hands had formed into claws on his shirt. She was straining toward him, certain satisfaction was within reach. If she only knew how to achieve it.

He slipped his hand over the curve of her hip and across her belly.

“Aye, by me,” he whispered next to her ear, his tone dark and husky. “I’ll show ye why coming to me bed is what ye need…”

His hand glided over her bare belly, beneath her chemise, down to where her curls guarded her sex.

“Bhaic…ye can nae touch me…there…”

But he was. His fingers teasing those curls, parting them, stroking that forbidden place until he boldly thrust one of his fingers right into the folds of her sex.

“A husband can… I’m going to show ye what pleasure awaits ye in me bed.”

There was a confidence in his tone.

A dark, wicked, tempting confidence that sent her thoughts scattering. He’d touched some spot that sent a bolt of pleasure through her. In fact, the sensation redefined pleasure. She’d never experienced such a spike of pure delight. Her thighs opened for him, shamelessly eager for more. For certain, there must be something wrong with what they were doing, but she couldn’t think of it. His touch was reducing her to a pile of quivering yearning.

She lifted her hips, feeling empty inside. He teased her folds, stroking over the pulsing spot hidden between them. Somehow, her flesh was wet, making it easy for his fingers to glide across that little pearl. He pressed against it, wringing a cry from her. Her body was pulling tighter, urgency filling her before it became true desperation.

He seemed to be in tune with the tempo of her blood, stroking her in time to her heartbeat. He caught her nape, holding her in place as he pressed a kiss against her mouth. It was hard and demanding, just like his fingers. Pressing her forward into something, something wild.

It wrung her out, twisting and pulling at her with a burst of pleasure that exploded inside her. He caught her cry, smoothing it as she twisted and bucked against him.

“There now…” he growled softly against her lips.

His words didn’t really make sense. She was only half aware of the world, still floating on a cloud of sensation. He rolled onto his back, settling her head on his bare chest as she sighed. He toyed with her hair, stroking her arms as the sound of his heartbeat filled her ear. She recovered by degrees, becoming aware of her bare breasts pressing against his side, only the thin fabric of his shirt between them. She had her hand thrust through the opening of that same shirt, her fingers resting on his chest.

Her knee was bent over his thigh, her skirts raised and pushed up to bare her legs. Nothing between her sex but her chemise and his plaid.

Disheveled.

Oh, Christ, she was definitely that.

But, well…he was her husband. She took a deep breath, forbidding herself to fret.

“Well… I can nae see…”

She stiffened, recognizing Finley’s voice, even in a whisper. There was a scuffle, and she jumped when he peeked around the opening of the stall.

“Get ye gone!” Bhaic snarled.

He tried to pull her close again, but she’d already rolled away, putting her back to the door as she tried to close up her bodice.

“Where’s Helen when we need her?” Bhaic snorted. He was on his feet, braced in the doorway of the stall as he glared down the stable. “I’m going to let her beat ye senseless!” There was a scuff and a snarl as Finley ran for the outer door of the stable. Bhaic cursed before turning back to consider her. “Damned nuisance.”

“Oh, they’re that, but it’s yer brother that set them on me.” She’d managed to right her clothing, her cheeks on fire.

Bhaic grunted, but the sound was far too smug for her smarting sensibilities. He lowered himself to a knee beside her.

“Be easy, Ailis. We were nae misbehaving.” His face split with a grin as surprise flashed across his eyes. “And that is a first for me. I think marriage is going to agree with me.”

She swallowed the lump that had managed to lodge itself in her throat. “No’ going to miss the lectures on hellfire and brimstone?”

He shrugged. “Know those, do ye?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, aye. Women are the descendants of Eve, ye see, and therefore, by me very gender, I am predisposed to mortal sins.” She shook her head. “Bunch of drivel. Men dally their lives through, but it is me blood that must be shown on me wedding sheets if I am to escape disgrace.”

“Well now…” Bhaic was starting to chuckle and fighting to hold his amusement in. “A young lad’s first time is marked only by the rather stupid look of bewilderment that is stuck on his face for hours on end afterward.”

She rolled her eyes. “Have some decency. For all that I only met ye, I do nae need to be hearing about yer conquests.”

“Well then…”

He reached out and scooped her up. She’d had no idea he might lift her so easily when he was still sitting as well. She landed in his lap, hay falling off her.

“I can certainly find something else to do…” He nuzzled against her neck, pressing several kisses along the column of her throat.

For all that he’d satisfied her, it seemed her appetite was yet to be truly sated. She let out a little sound of enjoyment, twisting her hands around his neck and arching back as he made his way to her cleavage.

“Such perfection…” He growled as he kissed the swells of her breasts. He cupped her bottom and lifted her up. She shifted herself, opening her thighs so that her knees ended up on either side of his lean hips when he lowered her.

Her breath caught on a gasp. The hard presence of his erection pressed against her sex. She opened her eyes and discovered Bhaic watching her.

Waiting for her.

It was a tender concern, one that stroked something inside her. He still cupped her hips, rubbing them with slow motions as she started breathing again.

“Ye’re a kind man.”

His lips twitched. “Do nae be sharing that little secret. It will ruin me fine barbaric reputation.”

“We would nae be wanting that,” she teased him softly.

“They’re back at it…”

She stiffened. The sound of Finley’s voice was like a bucket of icy water. Bhaic grunted with frustration.

“We are going to have to take this to a place with a solid door,” he said before he lifted her off him. “Or risk having the details fodder for winter evenings.”

Her face exploded in heat at the mere idea. Ailis kicked at her skirts, trying to gain her footing. Bhaic hooked her under her arms and lifted her.

“I can nae believe yer brother set them on us both.”

“Meaning ye would understand them trailing yer heels, but no’ mine?”

Bhaic scooped up his doublet and shook it to dislodge the straw. He shrugged into it. “Marcus takes his duties as seriously as ye do. Besides, ye can choose yer friends but no’ yer family.”

He reached out and plucked some straw from her hair.

“Where are me pins?”

He contemplated her for a moment as he worked the buttons halfway up his doublet. “I’ve half a mind to not give them back to ye.”

“Then everyone will know—”

“Aye,” he confirmed smugly. But he reached over and collected her hairpins from the top of the stall wall. “No’ that we could expect Finley to keep his jaw shut.”

He offered her pins to her. Reaching out to take them felt horribly exposing.

“I suppose ’tis a good thing we’re wed, Ailis. For yer reputation is sure to be tarnished.”

She looked up and locked gazes with him. “I’ve enough troubles without worrying I’ll end up in the pillory for loose morals.”

His grin faded. “Aye. Duana. She slapped ye?”

There was a look in his eyes that caught her by surprise. The man was feeling protective.

Of her.

It was a hard idea to grasp.

Yet welcome.

“Stay out of it.” She was likely bound for the pillory for being disrespectful to her husband now, but she didn’t regret the words or her tone. “I’d have settled it meself if Finley and his lot had nae brought me up here. I will get me house in order.”

“I suddenly see a bright side to me brother’s orders.” He nodded gravely. “At least I will nae have to worry about finding ye dead on the kitchen floor.”

“Oh…enough. I am no’ about to go sit in me chamber and cry because yer father’s Head of House is as stubborn as yer brother.” She went to pass him, but he captured her, binding her against his body as he buried his face in her flowing hair once more.

“Sweet Ailis, that was nae nearly enough. Come to me bed, and I’ll show ye how much more there is.”

He kissed her again, letting his passion free. It was a hard, blunt merging of their mouths. He mastered her, moving her to suit his needs. Holding her head in place while his lips ravished hers.

And left her sagging against the stall wall.

More?

She was certain she couldn’t take anything else.

Yet very sure she was wicked enough to desire to attempt it.

* * *

Clansmen started filling the yard early in the afternoon. They were men who had farms farther out from the castle. They set up cooking fires, suspending large black iron pots from tripods. More than one unlucky rabbit was hanging from a belt as they arrived. There were a few women, but Highlanders knew their way around a cooking fire. Many of them had bread cooked by their wives and chunks of cheese that always traveled well.

Ailis headed up to her chamber, needing to right her hair. Helen was nowhere to be found at the stable, forcing Ailis to walk back to the castle with her hair flowing down her back. A few men turned to look at her, their faces splitting with grins until they recognized the Robertson colors of her arisaid. Their expressions turned harsh, but they held their insults, likely due to Finley and Lyel following her with their hands on the pommels of their swords.

It was a welcome reprieve. One she would be best not to look at the details of.

“There she is.”

Ailis stopped with her foot on the bottom stair of the staircase that led to her chamber. She turned to see Skene and Kam standing down the hall. Skene reached over and opened a door to one of the cells lining the passageway.

“Ye can come out now. Yer mistress is here.”

Helen appeared, the two retainers backing well out of her reach. Skene tried to placate her. “Now, we were only following orders.”

Helen gave him a look that told him how little she thought of him before she turned to look at Ailis.

“Let’s get ye put together, mistress. I’d certainly no’ have made ye walk all the way up from the stables looking like a strumpet if I had nae been locked away. Little wonder no one respects ye.”

“There will be respect as well as courtesy,” Bhaic interrupted as he came down the aisle. He stepped aside, revealing Duana and two of the head cooks. They had the kitchen books in their hands.

Ailis felt her cheeks catch fire.

“It seems I did nae notice I was thrusting a duty on Duana that was no’ hers to shoulder,” Bhaic said. “I’ve asked her to forgive me ignorance in no’ knowing it was the lady of the castle’s duty to make certain the books were kept in good order.”

“I enjoy serving ye,” Duana said clearly.

“Aye but ’tis a poor laird I’d be if I did nae learn no’ to overburden those who serve this castle. Forgive me,” Bhaic informed her smoothly. It was clear to one and all what they were truly discussing. Duana didn’t want to bend. Her lips were pressed into a hard line, but Bhaic didn’t budge. The Head of House finally nodded and lowered herself.

“Naught to forgive. I knew ’twas only a matter of time until ye or yer brother took a wife.”

Neither of them meant what they were saying, but the words granted everyone a measure of pride. Duana and the cooks brought the books to Helen and piled them in her arms.

Duana managed a nod before she turned and left.

Bhaic watched her leave, casting a look toward Ailis once the Head of House was gone. His lips curved just a marginal amount, and he winked before disappearing.

“Well, it seems we have something to set our attention to,” Ailis said.

Her mind was already full, but the books offered a diversion from the matter truly weighing on her.

Come to his bed?

Bhaic MacPherson had best watch himself, because she just might take his offer. After all, a wife had rights too.

* * *

The household books were spread out on the long table in Ailis’s chambers. The rows of numbers looked impossible to make sense of. There were half-finished computations and an entire basketful of slips of paper with amounts written on them that had yet to be entered into the books. All of it was smeared with flour and drops of dried sauces.

In short, it was a disaster.

Either there were some six hundred chickens penned up somewhere, or the slips of paper accounted for them. She had no idea how Duana had managed to keep a decent meal on the tables when there was no clear record of what was in the storerooms.

Ailis was fighting to make sense of it all when someone rapped on her door.

Finley pushed the door in. “The laird will be starting manorial court soon.”

Clearly the retainer wanted to enjoy the spectacle. He was jerking his head toward the stairs, trying to encourage her to leave her chamber.

“We’ll be along in a bit.” Helen had appeared outside the chamber door, holding a large platter with a cloth covering it. “The mistress needs to eat.”

“She’s no’ the only one,” Finley groused.

“Off with ye then.” Helen paused in the doorway.

Finley shrugged but aimed a pleading look at them. Considering the way he so often glared at her, it was nearly friendly. “I can nae. Lyel is nae here, likely down in the kitchen making wagers on tonight’s cases, and Marcus said she’s no’ to be left unattended.”

“I’m attending her,” Helen responded.

Finley rolled his eyes. “As if ye are any different! Both of ye were brought here to keep yer kin under control. Naught but hostages.”

Helen had brought her burden into the chamber. The scent of fresh bread came from beneath the cloth. She sat the tray down with a clunk as she turned on Finley.

“Why thank ye, Finley, for such a charming description of me new home,” Ailis said.

He bristled. “I did nae bring either of ye here. Besides, Duana weighs double what ye do. If I had nae been there this morning, she might have crushed the breath from ye by just sitting on ye.”

Ailis shook her head to dispel the image his words evoked.

“Nae, ye did nae bring me here,” Ailis conceded, keeping her comments confined to the more important matters, such as doing her best not to make an enemy of a man who was going to dodge her footsteps whether she liked it or not. “Is it the kitchens ye wish to go to?”

His face brightened. “Aye.”

“Well then.” She walked through the door. “I suppose I can eat there as well as here.”

Finley fingered his beard for a moment. “Ask ye?”

He was watching her, seeing what she’d make of his question. Ailis nodded on her way past him.

“This is to be me home, Finley. I do nae intend to be difficult about settling into me proper place.”

She stressed the word “proper” just a bit. It wasn’t lost on her escort. His expression tightened, but she continued on down the stairs, not insisting on a formal agreement from him. He’d likely see that as treason, since she was a Robertson. It was certainly going to be a delicate thing, settling in.

But at the base of the stairs, she paused. Shamus was already at the high table. He caught sight of her and raised his hand in her direction.

“Come here, lass.”

She couldn’t very well ignore him. Finley groaned but followed her.

“Off with ye, lad,” Shamus said with a gesture of his hand. “I’m still young enough at heart to want to have such a fetching lass to meself. Besides, there are plenty here to look after her if she wanders.”

Finley considered the retainers watching his laird. He nodded and pulled on the corner of his bonnet before making haste toward the passageway. The retainer’s hesitation sent a little chill through her, one that was familiar.

Shamus was clearly getting old. He might still be laird, but the MacPherson retainers answered to Bhaic and Marcus now.

Her father was in a similar condition.

“Sit with me.”

For all his age, there was still a keen mind inside of Shamus MacPherson. Ailis caught hint of a calculating flicker in his eyes as a retainer pulled one of the huge chairs out for her.

“Eat something. I understand ye have put in a full day.” Once more, Shamus was proving he wasn’t as withered by time as his wrinkled face suggested.

No one waited for her to decide if she wanted to eat. Serving girls and younger lads who attended the head table began to fill her plate and goblet. It was done in a flurry of motion before they retreated to the back of the high ground. They watched those who were dining, waiting for any indication their services were needed.

“Do ye plan to call out me Head of House tonight?”

Ailis had taken a bite of bread. Shamus had spoken while looking straight ahead, and kept his voice low to keep the conversation private. Ailis shook her head.

“Why no’?” Shamus tilted his head to the side and looked at her.

Ailis swallowed. “Because I’d surely be a fool if I thought this union was going to be simple.”

He considered her for a long moment. “’Tis yer right.”

Three little words had never had such impact. They were certainly better than any words of welcome might have been. Those salutations she might have doubted. Her father’s most hated enemy agreeing that she had cause to cry for judgment against one of his own? Well, that was a victory. One she’d best handle with care.

“I expect it to take time. Me being accepted here.”

Shamus grunted. “Ye might just make a fine lady of this hall. I can see the making of such in ye.” He reached under the table and boldly slapped the top of her thigh.

She jumped and witnessed a wicked flicker of enjoyment appear in his eyes. The same blue eyes that Bhaic had.

“Eat something, lass. I can nae have yer father saying I starve ye.”

Because of the evening court, supper was being served more informally. The center of the hall was already cleared and ready for those clansmen who wanted to bring issues before their laird for judgment. Retainers were eating on tables along the side of the great hall, but most of them had gone outside into the yard. There was a buzz of conversation coming through the open doors.

But men started coming into the open doorway to peer at her sitting there with their laird. They stroked their beards and leaned in to discuss it with their companions.

Shamus grunted after a while. “I needs prepare, lass.”

“Thank you.”

She stood when he did, lowering herself before she turned and headed back up the stairs.

“Well now…” Helen joined her. “There will be talk a plenty about that.”

* * *

There were pipers at the manorial court.

Ailis enjoyed the sound of the music as she came down the stairs. The candles were all lit tonight, flickering above the hall in huge chandeliers held with ropes through pulleys, so they might be lowered and the candles replaced. There were also several standing candelabra to add more light. The scent of beeswax and smoke floated through the hall.

The hall was full. Men talked in hushed tones as they waited for the laird to take his place. The table was pushed back on the high ground, and three of the large chairs moved forward. No one was jesting tonight. There was clearly business to attend to.

Marcus was there, obviously recently groomed for the occasion. His plaid was secured with a costly brooch tonight, and there was a matching one on his bonnet. He was standing on the high ground, watching the passageway she appeared in.

“Mistress Duana.”

The Head of House jumped when Marcus addressed her.

“Me brother is wed,” Marcus continued as those waiting for the court watched. “Ye seem to have forgotten to direct yer staff to set a chair for yer new mistress.”

The hall suddenly went silent.

Ailis was certain the color was draining from her face. Marcus kept his stare on the Head of House.

“Forgive me,” Duana said at last. She snapped her fingers at two serving boys, but the chair was far too heavy for them.

Finley scoffed at them and climbed to the high ground. “In a few more years, lads.”

He picked up the chair and set it off to the side, one pace back from the other three, in the position for the mistress of the castle.

The pipers began to play, signaling the beginning of the evening. Shamus started walking down the main aisle with Bhaic behind him.

How many times had she watched her father do the same?

She was suddenly homesick, but at the same time, enjoying the familiar sight that helped her confirm she wasn’t so very far from home. Shamus settled in his chair before Bhaic turned and offered her his hand.

He was a handsome brute tonight. His chin freshly shaved and his dark hair shiny from a recent washing. It was combed back, the tips of it just brushing his shoulders. His bonnet sported ceremonial feathers for the occasion. They were larger and fixed to his bonnet with a gold brooch. She felt disheveled, her gown grubby after so many days in it. She was also dressed like a girl, not the lady of the house. Clothing that had seemed stuffy just a few months ago now appealed to her. But there was nothing for it. She moved forward, trying to recall all the advice her nurse had instilled in her.

Chin always level.

Expression pleasing, yet serene.

Hips controlled so the skirts didn’t sway.

Hands folded neatly into one another and held at the waist.

It was exhausting.

She laid her hand in Bhaic’s, and he led her to her spot.

The pipers played again, signaling a beginning to the court.

But Ailis was pretty sure everyone was looking straight at her.

Well, let them. She wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

He’d promised to wait for her.

Bhaic looked out over the land bridge that connected the castle to the main land. Everyone had settled down for the remainder of the night, the camp that had formed in the yard quiet now. The sentries were on the walls, slowly walking back and forth to keep themselves warm and alert. The view from his chamber often eased his mind, allowing him to see that the castle was secure, so that he might relax and sleep. Tonight, it wasn’t affecting him that way. The reason was clear, and one floor below him.

He didn’t want to wait.

But for all he knew, she’d come up to him, and he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t leave the hall until his father did, and his father didn’t have anything enticing waiting in his bed.

Bhaic grinned, the fire in the hearth behind him making his reflection show in the windowpanes. He turned around and looked at his chambers. They’d always been his sanctuary. The one place he didn’t have to share.

Tonight, they felt empty.

Well, he’d asked her to come to him. That wasn’t the same as promising her he wouldn’t seek her out.

Ye’ll wait.

He scoffed at his own reprimand, but turned and pulled off his shirt.

Aye, he would wait, because if he didn’t, he’d never know if she truly wanted him. He’d never realized what a burden it would be to have a dutiful wife. It was surprising to find himself reluctant to take advantage of the rights the law afforded him.

He didn’t want her that way.

The memory of her sitting on the edge of the bed in their bridal chamber roused only his temper.

He’d never had a woman who didn’t want him, and the few who had sought him out with schemes brewing behind their smiles were the ones he felt only contempt for.

The memory of the stable made him grin.

It also stirred his member.

He turned away from the door.

Aye, ye’ll wait…

Ailis would be worth it.

* * *

The bells along the walls started ringing at noon. It was a frantic call to arms. Ailis came out of the kitchen storeroom, along with the rest of the women. Retainers flooded the walls of the castle, some of them loading black-powder muskets.

Marcus was mounting his horse, the animal dancing in a circle in response to the flurry of activity in the yard. He spun around and then turned back to look at her.

“Get yer charge inside the keep and make sure she stays there,” he ordered Finley.

Bhaic was already riding out of the gate, MacPherson retainers close on his heels. The sound of hooves was deafening. Fear pierced her heart.

Was it Lye Rob Gordon?

Perhaps another clan that had a feud with the MacPhersons?

There was no way to know. Her only option was to wait.

“Come along, mistress,” Finley admonished her. “Do nae make me pick ye up.”

She’d forgotten about her ever-diligent escort. Today it was Finley and Skene. They were frowning, and started walking toward her. She must move or be run over.

They forced her up into the keep with their arms spread wide. She turned around when she made it there, picking up her skirts and hurrying up the stairs to her chambers.

“Where are ye going, woman?”

She didn’t pay Finley any mind, but went to the windows to see if she could see anything. Her chambers faced out over the lake, frustrating her.

Well, Bhaic’s chamber overlooked the land bridge so he might keep an eye on anyone approaching the castle. She brushed past Finley as he gained the landing outside her chambers and headed up to the fourth floor.

“What’s got into ye, woman?”

She only hesitated for a moment before opening the door and pushing it in. A tiny shiver crossed her skin as she strode into Bhaic’s domain. She went across the receiving room and stood at the window. In the distance, she could see the MacPherson retainers. Marcus and Bhaic marked by pennant bearers behind them.

What made her gasp was the sight of her father’s pennant flying. Her brother Duncan was riding with him too. Her blood ran cold, horror nearly choking her.

Stop! Ye do nae know why they are here.

That was true enough. She watched them as time crawled past. At last, the MacPhersons turned and stared heading back into the castle. Ailis felt her jaw drop as her father and brother followed.

Robertsons riding into the MacPherson castle.

She had to see it with her own eyes.

Still, she had to blink and force herself to believe what was right before her.

She dashed past Finley and Skene, holding up her skirts as she charged down the stairs.

“Now just wait for us!” She was already on the first floor by the time Finley’s voice came down the tower to her. She ended up in the huge double doorway of the keep, panting from running, before Lyel stepped into her path and stopped her like a wall. She ran right into him and bounced back.

“Ye’ll be staying here, mistress,” he told her sternly.

Finley and Skene came barreling up behind her. They reached out and grabbed her arms.

“Are ye mad?” she hissed at them.

“Marcus’s orders…”

She drew in a deep breath and made sure her tone was civil. She looked at Finley, trying to draw on the trust she’d been building with him.

“Me father is riding through the gate,” she informed him smoothly. “Do ye really care to have him seeing ye yanking me about like a goat? Or for me to be nowhere in sight, so he can imagine the worst about me circumstances? Three generations of feud will likely take his thoughts to a very dark place.”

“Yer father?”

Ailis jerked her head toward the gate.

Finley looked up, his eyebrows rising at the sight of Robertsons filling the yard.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

He wasn’t the only one cussing. Or crossing themselves. MacPherson retainers hissed at the women to get back, but some of them were too frozen with shock to move. Her brother cleared the gate and found her. Duncan had the family blond hair, but his eyes were a light green color. His expression was stern as he swept her from head to toe. He was off his horse and moving up the stairs to stand in front of her before she really accepted that her kin were there.

“Sister.”

He pulled her close, but it wasn’t really a welcome hug. “Are ye well? Tell me the truth,” he whispered against her ear.

Bhaic was suddenly there, close enough to hear what Duncan was whispering.

“I do nae mistreat women,” Bhaic insisted.

Duncan released her and pushed her behind him. “I’ll be hearing what me sister has to say on the matter, MacPherson. Make no mistake about that. If me father had nae sent me out to deal with some bastard Gordons, I would have been there to deal with the Earl of Morton and prevent this marriage.”

Bhaic chuckled darkly. “There was a time I would have risen to that bait, Robertson.”

Duncan pushed closer to Bhaic, clearly spoiling for a fight. She started to step between them, but Bhaic captured her wrist and held her back, turning slightly and pulling her behind him. Duncan didn’t miss it. Her brother’s eye narrowed with rage.

“And there ye see the reason why this marriage happened,” Bhaic explained in a low tone. “Yer sister is more levelheaded than either of us. I offered me chest to the earl’s marksmen, but she wasn’t willing to see her father hanged when there was something she could do to prevent it. Even wed me. She shamed me well with the way she put the good of both our clansmen above her own preferences.”

“Ye can bet ye were no’ her choice for husband.”

“Stop bickering,” she said.

Her brother’s gaze settled on the dark spot on her jaw, marking where Duana had slapped her.

“He was rough with ye,” Duncan growled menacingly.

“He was no’.”

But Bhaic turned around and looked at her jawline, his lips pressing into a hard line.

“Duncan,” her father called from where he was standing in the yard. “Bring yer sister down here where I can see her.”

“Better ye come into the hall,” Marcus said.

Her father shook his head. “I’ve come farther than ever I thought to in this life, but I will no’ be going into yer keep. I told ye, I’m here to see me daughter with me own eyes and make sure ye MacPhersons do nae have any reason to be saying she did nae arrive suitably outfitted as a bride should be.”

Her father aimed the last part of his answer toward the yard where every doorway was filled with curious onlookers.

Ailis looked behind her father and realized there was a wagon. Marcus had his men helping to unload several trunks. She was grateful and yet at the same time, her breath got caught in her throat, because she realized her father had accepted her marriage.

Inside those trunks would be all of her possessions. While it would be wonderful to have her clothing, she was fairly certain she was going to cry when she looked at the pearl necklace her mother had left her, and her father had safeguarded for the day she wed.

Duncan reached out and took hold of her arm. Bhaic glowered, clearly didn’t care for the way her brother was taking charge of her.

“Ye have something to say, MacPherson?” Duncan asked.

“Ye’d like that, would ye nae?” Bhaic shot back. “Seems ye’re in the mood to stir up something, alright.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Ailis hissed beneath her breath so her words didn’t carry. “Have done, ye two. Ye will nae undo what good has been done. Duncan, I am fine. Me husband”—she used the word on purpose—“has nae laid a hand on me that I did nae enjoy.”

She shook off her brother’s hold and shot Bhaic a hard look. “I am going to see me father. Ye should come as well and greet yer father-by-marriage.”

Bhaic didn’t care for the tone of her voice, but he stepped out of her path. Duncan made a noise under his breath that she snorted at. Bhaic stiffened but remained by her side as she went down the steps and into the yard.

“Marcus is correct. Ye are a spitfire,” Bhaic said under his breath.

“Thank ye.”

He choked back his amusement.

It was harder than she’d thought to see her father. Tears tried to sting her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“There’s me lass…” Her father peered at her and frowned. “And ye have the nerve to tell me I did nae need to bring along her things? Me daughter is wearing the dress she left home in…a week later!”

Shamus MacPherson turned to look at her. “Well now, me daughter is nae home, and what would men know of such things? The lass might have spoken up.”

“Ye’ve got a Head of House, do ye no’?” Duncan demanded. “If she were worthy of her position, she’d no’ need to be told how to look after her mistress.”

A ripple of conversation went through those watching. Many of the women looked at the ground out of shame.

“Maybe the lass has nae needed much clothing.” Shamus puffed his chest out. “Any lass wedded to a MacPherson does nae.”

“That’s me daughter,” her father insisted crossly, “so mind how ye talk about her.”

“Oh, stop it,” Ailis said, trying to end their argument. “As if ye have nae said something as…colorful about weddings before, Father.”

Her father suddenly grinned and reached out to slap Bhaic on the shoulder. “Ye’ll have yer work cut out for ye with me daughter. She’s got spirit.”

“That’s the truth,” Marcus said.

Duncan snarled softly at Marcus.

Bhaic stuck his hand out. Her father looked at it for a long moment. His gaze shifted back to her, sweeping her from head to toe before he clasped Bhaic’s hand. A ripple went through those watching. Heads nodded; expressions eased. Surprise brightened Duncan’s eyes before his complexion darkened slightly with guilt.

Duncan offered Bhaic his hand. The two stared at each other for only a moment before they clasped wrists.

Her father turned to her. “Now come and kiss yer father. I’ve got to get going. The sun is nae going to wait for me, and I will sleep better closer to me own land.”

She went to his embrace, feeling as if a live coal had somehow gotten caught in her chest. Her father folded her in his arms, squeezing her before he sniffed and pulled away.

“Alright, me lads! Let’s take ourselves home and prove we can go through MacPherson land without spilling blood. More than one wager is going to be lost over it, for certain. I think I’m going to enjoy knowing I am nae so old I can nae learn a new trick.”

Duncan helped her father up onto the back of his horse before he took a moment to stare at her.

She was sure it was the hardest thing she’d ever done to look him straight back in the eye and smile. He nodded and mounted.

“But mind ye”—her father turned his horse around and looked at Shamus—“I’ll be expecting me son-in-law there to be bringing me daughter home for a visit in a few weeks. Seeing as how I’ve come out here first to prove me commitment to this…peace.”

It was a challenge. Cast down right there in the yard. Ailis couldn’t help but be proud of her father for his brazen tenacity. It made her smile as they turned and left.

Her emotions started to boil though as she watched the last of her clansmen disappear. The MacPhersons were clustered around one another, talking intently about what had just happened. Shamus had both his sons near him.

Which left her standing alone.

Although on display might be a better description.

People looked at her, pointing, nodding—obviously discussing her. For certain, no one stuck in the pillory had ever endured more scrutiny.

She backed away from it. Retreating into the keep. But that allowed her only to walk into a wall of women, all waiting to see what had happened. The suspicion in their gazes broke the hold she had on her feelings. Despair clawed its way up from where she’d locked it away on May Day.

Now, there was no way to shield herself from it. The tears she’d blinked away began spilling down her cheeks as she fled toward the stairs to hide her lack of composure.

Somehow, she ended up back in Bhaic’s rooms, pressing against the window to gain the last glimpse of her kin. She didn’t hear Bhaic arrive, but he was suddenly there, embracing her.

She shifted, shamed by her wet cheeks.

“Easy, lass…” he cooed against her head, tucking it beneath his chin.

She wanted to be stronger.

But fate hadn’t been in the mood lately to grant her what she wanted.

Her tears fell, her breathing rough. “I’m sorry… I do nae know why I came here…”

She pushed away from his hold, wiping her eyes hastily on her sleeve before she turned to find her way to the door.

“I’ve been waiting for ye to come here, Ailis. Ye know that.” There was a trace of promise in his tone.

She recalled it all too clearly from the night in the stairwell.

Behind him, his bed was lit with the rays of the afternoon sun.

“Somehow, I do nae think this is the circumstance ye were hoping for.”

He chuckled, smoothing his hand down her arm. “Maybe because I’m new to being a husband. I’ve never had much dealing with women beyond…well…”

She slapped him on the shoulder, but since she was in his embrace, the blow lacked any real power. “I know what ye mean.”

He tipped her chin up, but his gaze moved to the dark spot on her jaw. “I’m going to have words with Duana.”

“Ye will no’. It’s me house and me place to see to the running of it.”

“And ye are me wife, Ailis,” he countered. “I should be making it clear I agree with this union. Ye were right to wed me. Shamed me properly for no’ thinking beyond what me father taught me of yer clan. Yer brother saw it just now.”

“Aye. For the first time, I believe.” She clung to the victory of that truth.

Bhaic stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Ye’re a woman to be reckoned with, but Duana is taking advantage of yer tender heart. I aim to put a stop to that.”

“I will do it in me own way and time,” she insisted.

He wasn’t going to allow her to sway him, but she dug her fingers into his kilt when he started to move away. His outer belt popped. Startled, Ailis released the fabric, and the wide belt slithered to the floor.

The sound of it hitting the floor made her eyes go wide.

Had she really just…undressed him?

“Well now, that’s one way to win the argument,” he said with a husky chuckle. “Taking me clothes off. Maybe ye’re the spitfire Marcus claims ye are.”

“I am not biddable,” she admitted, “especially when I am dealing with pigheadedness.”

His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. “In that case, I need to make sure ye do nae find me too weak willed to handle ye.”

He reached out and caught the lace holding her bodice closed. With a sharp tug, he opened the knot and pulled the lace free with his fingers from the first two eyelets.

“There,” he said smugly. “Now ye see that I am no’ too weak willed to face the challenge ye present.”

“Oh?” She tugged on the front of his doublet, freeing several of his buttons. She almost stopped, but undid two more for good measure. “I like me challenges far more intense.”

It was a ridiculous battle, but she was enjoying it too much to stop.

“Well now, I would nae care to see ye disappointed.”

He reached out with both hands and pulled the lace through her eyelets with quick motions. She ended up reaching around and finishing off his buttons. Her bodice sagged open at the same time his doublet did. Bhaic shrugged out of it, letting it drop to the floor, and faced off with her in his shirt.

She hesitated, feeling the air against her breasts through her thin chemise.

Dare she continue?

“Come, lassie…” He tapped the button on his shirt. “Finish what ye started.”

It was tempting.

Far better than waiting for him to decide when to claim her.

She reached out and opened the button, and then another. Bhaic was slowly working the lace holding her skirt free. But he held her gaze. The passion shimmering in his eyes captivated her.

“Kiss me.” Her voice was raspy and unsteady, her body starting to quiver. “Quiet me thoughts.”

“It almost killed me to wait for ye to ask.” There was a harsh edge to his voice that made her shiver, and in his eyes a hint of the desire he’d been holding in check.

He leaned down and kissed her with enough passion to send her thoughts scattering. She rose on her toes to get closer as he pushed her skirts down and over her hips. They puddled around her ankles as she went searching for the buckle on his second belt.

The metal was cold, but the plaid was warm from his skin. She pulled the leather tail free and then loosened the buckle. There was a soft sound as the wool hit the floor. A swift sense of satisfaction filled her as she let him press her lips apart and tease her tongue with his.

She shuddered, shaken to her core.

He scooped her up, carrying her away from their clothing. Kissing her with a hunger that ignited a storm of need inside her.

There was no reason to think. Sweet sensation reigned supreme, offering her a feast of delights. She had some dim awareness of him carrying her through to the darker room where his massive bed was and lowering her onto it. He cupped her head, holding her in place as he sent his tongue into her mouth.

It was so bluntly sexual.

And she loved it.

He gathered her close, holding her against his body as he moved her farther up onto the bed. It was soft, taking her weight as he let her down and lowered himself on top of her. He was hard against her thighs. He lifted her knees, parting them so he might settle between her legs. She was pulsing, throbbing with need, caught in a moment of anticipation as she waited for that first intimate touch against her sex.

He stroked her breasts first, soft, delicious strokes, before he leaned down and suckled one of her nipples. She gasped, arching up as it felt as though his mouth was burning her.

But it was a wonderful sort of torment, one she craved more of. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. He kissed his way to her other breast, the sensitive skin of her nipple puckering tight in anticipation. Every little second felt impossibly long while she waited for him to claim that peak with his mouth.

“Oh…yes…”

She didn’t know what she was saying, only that she was too full of churning delight to hold it all in. She needed to arch and twist and lift her hips toward him.

She needed…needed him.

“More,” she demanded, opening her eyes.

His eyes brightened with hunger, his features drawing tight with need. It was frank and edgy, and her insides twisted at the sight. He smoothed his hand down her body, rubbing her belly before venturing lower to where her sex was spread open for him.

“Laird… Laird… Come quickly! That mare needs help…”

The lad was halfway into the chamber before he realized exactly what they were about. His face turned red before he spun around, his kilt slapping his knees because he moved so fast.

“Ye must come…quickly,” the boy stressed in a squeak.

“Are they doing it?” Finley’s voice came through the doorway.

“Almost…” Skene replied.

Bhaic roared, pushing off the bed and turning on their unwanted guests. Her chemise was still guarding her sex.

“No, they did nae get to it,” Skene said as he turned away.

Ailis grabbed the bedding and rolled across the wide expanse of the bed until she was covered.

“But the mare… Hamas says she’s going to die if ye do nae come now.” The lad was trying to hide his sniffling.

“I’m coming,” Bhaic bit out. He cast her a glance before grabbing his plaid and tossing it on the table to pleat it. “And then, I’m going to church to repent so the Lord can have done with tormenting me.”

The boy turned around and looked at her, his eyes wide. “Has she bedeviled ye then? Like they say she has?”

Bhaic buckled his kilt and took a deep breath before reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Only so far as a fair lass should, lad. Ye’ll understand when ye’re a man. For now, do nae be looking upon me wife when she’s in me bed. That’s a pleasure only a married man gets.”

The boy turned his back on her, leaving her facing Bhaic. He pointed at her. “Stay right there.”

She slowly shook her head, earning a grunt from him.

“Spitfire,” he mouthed before he let the boy take him away.