Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Aedan woke the next morning with Thora in his arms, and the healer watching both of them with a knowing look that made him feel like a lad caught after his first tryst. Still, she didn’t say anything about what she might, or might not, have heard.

The healer served them both a meal of porridge, heavy with cream and fruit, as well as fresh bread. Afterward, she checked Thora’s shoulder and announced that it was healing well, with no sign of further injury or infection. Thora was given a packet of medicine for the pain, another to take with evening meals to prevent any ill or infection, and a salve to apply twice a day. Then the two of them were released to return to the castle proper.

They spent a quiet day in their rooms, resting, using Thora’s injury as an excuse to gain some much-needed peace and privacy. Aedan was happy to do so, knowing that they would be expected to attend the evening festivities, including dancing. He’d been lucky enough to avoid such activities so far, but with Thora on the mend, it would be difficult to find an excuse. He could hardly tell Lachlan Ross, or the others, that he was afraid that dancing with Thora would destroy any restraint he had left.

Perhaps they could do a slow, easy dance, with her shoulder as the excuse, then retire early. Surely no one would question such an action, after the events of the day before.

That night, Thora dressed in a gown of green velvet, interspersed with panels of lighter green, and a tracing of deep green and holly berries. It was a beautiful gown, and it took more effort than he cared to admit not to lock the door, remove the gown, and spend the evening in far more pleasurable pursuits.

He himself wore a kilt of Cameron colors, white shirt with red laces, and a green hunting vest under his Cameron sash. He also wore his laird’s torc about his throat, and the coronet of his rank on his head.

Rhiannon was a miracle worker at making even the stiffest formal clothing comfortable, but that didn’t mean he liked the necessity of wearing it any better. Still, appearances had to be maintained.

The feast was long, but the food was excellent. Lachlan Ross, whatever else might be said about the man, had cooks who were superb at their work. Whole roast pheasants and pigs, platters of venison, chickens, fish… and that was just the meat. There were baskets of bread, and trays upon trays of vegetables, three preparations of potatoes, and at least as many soups.

Dessert, when it came, was much the same. Christmas puddings, black buns, currant cakes, sweet cakes, tarts with cream, all served with as much wine, beer, mead, whisky, or cider as a person could want.

Aedan ate and drank in moderation, mindful of his company, and was pleased to see that Thora did the same. She had a healthy appetite, but practiced good manners, and was careful to watch how much she ate.

After the main portions of the feast had been cleared away, it was time for the Laird of Misrule to usher in the dancing. Aedan didn’t recognize the man who played the role, but he did it well, playing up to the crowd, telling jests that never crossed too far over the line into crude words. He gave out coins, and claimed Laird Terion’s wife for the first dance, and then the evening entertainment was truly underway.

Aedan managed to sit through four dances before he surrendered to the odd looks their table companions were giving them and rose from his seat. “Me lady, would ye care tae honor me with a dance?”

It was a slower dance they were preparing for, one he was confident they could manage. Thora nodded and placed her hand in his, allowing him to raise her to her feet with her uninjured arm. Together, they descended to the floor and took their places.

The first skrill of the bagpipes set his feet in motion, and Aedan took Thora’s arm and swept her into the opening steps of the dance. She followed his lead easily, gracefully, as if they’d partnered each other all their lives.

He was several inches taller than she, his strides usually far longer, but she matched him step for step, as if born to do so. Every move was seamless, and it felt right in a way that dancing with no other lass ever had. He guided her through a turn, pulled her close, spun her free and traced the steps around her… and Thora followed every move.

He wondered if she was somehow using her power to guide her. It seemed a foolish thing to waste such a gift on, but what did he know? Then he looked into her eyes, saw her focus on him, and knew.

There was no magic power or mysterious gift at work. She simply read his body language and followed his lead.

When did I become so easy fer her tae understand? And why does it nae bother me?

They passed through a series of side-by-side steps, and Aedan kept his eyes on Thora, watching her as she watched him.

Closer, then apart. Step-step-step, spin, follow a wide circle on the floor. Hands linked, arms linked, apart again, palms touching. Every move flowed simply, easily, naturally between them, as if they were linked by invisible chains that guided them in perfect harmony.

By the time the song ended, both of them were panting, faces shining with perspiration. Aedan had never felt so invigorated, or so at peace as he watched Thora go to get them both some refreshment.

Then the moment was shattered by a hand on his arm. He looked away from Thora to see a young woman smiling at him. Her dress was plainer - perhaps a village lass, or the wife or lover of a retainer - and the laces were far looser than he would have expected. And the lower section far less loose and more revealing that might be considered appropriate.

She was one of the ladies he’d seen being friendly with Kendrick, one or two nights ago, and now she was giving him the same sultry look she’d given his fellow laird.

Aedan blinked. “Somethin’ I can dae fer ye lass?”

“Och, nay me laird. ‘Twas more I was thinkin’ o’ what I might dae fer ye...”

The wench had the audacity to twine an arm around his neck and press close to him with Thora standing in the same room. “A dance, perhaps, me laird? And then some movement o’ a… different nature?” She smiled coyly and toyed with his collar.

Aedan stiffened, all his good humor gone in a heartbeat. “Nay, thank ye.”

“And why nae?”

“’Tis nae me desire. And even were it otherwise, I’m new-wed, and me wife is with me.” He couldn’t help wondering if she was overly bold or had over-indulged in wine. Or maybe someone had made her speak to him?

“And what o’ it? Ye’re a laird. Ye can have wife and lover both if ye wish. Besides, is yer wife nae wounded? Surely, she cannae attend tae yer needs properly. I could help ye with that.”

If she’d offered a seven-day ago, he might have been tempted. Now though, he felt nothing but contempt, and utter refusal. “Nay. Thank ye.”

“But, me laird… Ahh!”

The wench yelped as cold water splashed across her face and bosom. The musicians stuttered to a halt as all eyes turned to face them. And no wonder.

Not two feet away, Thora stood holding an empty water goblet, her eyes sharp and brilliant with an anger that took his breath away, even as it made him brace for the coming attack.

“Get yer hands off me husband, ye brazen hussy. And ye…” The glare transferred to him. “Is this how ye’d repay my feelings fer ye? By letting another woman act as if she had the right tae touch ye in such a familiar manner?”

Before he could reply, she threw the goblet at his feet, then turned and stalked away through the crowd.

For a moment, he was too startled to move. They’d been growing closer, and he could no longer deny that, but she seemed far angrier than their relationship should allow, if she wasn’t acting the part. Unless…

Is she jealous? We’ve barely kent each other a fortnight!

Aedan shrugged off the wench’s arm and hurried after Thora. He ignored the stares and the whispers that followed him.

Something was going on, and something more was troubling Thora. He’d promised he’d trust her intuition, or her gift, or whatever drove her to act in unusual ways. If this was the result of another premonition, he needed to know.

Thora could feel tears stinging her eyes as she hurried from the Great Hall and toward the room she and Aedan shared. She refused to let them fall.

She knew she was being foolish. She had no real claim to Aedan. Their ‘marriage’ was a ruse, and they’d promised nothing to each other, save mutual assistance in thwarting the disaster that Lachlan Ross’s machinations might bring. She had no right to be angry with Aedan for how the woman in the hall had been draping herself over him, like a cat in heat.

A few shared kisses - half of them solely for the purposes of keeping up their pretenses - and a night of kindness did not make an obligation. And even if it had, there were lairds aplenty who had lovers and mistresses. Aye, and ladies who slept with men other than their husbands.

She knew all that, and yet, it did nothing to stop or to soothe the burning swirl of jealousy and rage that filled her gut. Especially after hearing the lairds and their ladies discussing Aedan, while she was getting them some refreshments. Both her heart and her pride had been wounded when she turned to see what they were whispering about.

She reached the sanctuary of their rooms and shut the door behind her, before moving to stoke the fire in the hearth. The maids who would normally attend to such tasks were busy with the Yule feast, and of course none of them would expect the guests to have returned to their rooms so early.

She knew she should freshen up, then return and make her excuses. She had plenty of reasons she could use, including the blow to her head, and the bruise that no amount of paints and powders would have been able to conceal.

And yet, the idea of seeing another woman pursuing Aedan, dancing with him, flirting with him… it had made her stomach churn so violently she had feared she was going to be sick.

The door swung open, and Aedan stepped into the room. Thora felt her stomach clench as he shut the door behind him. “Why are ye here?”

“Why would I nae be? Me wife left the festivities in a temper.” Aedan tipped his head. “Another warning?”

Thora felt a wave of exasperation.

“It has naething tae dae with that. I meant what I said in the Great Hall, and that’s all there was tae it.” It felt like admitting a weakness, but she couldn’t help it. It was what she felt. “I didnae like seein’ another woman bein’ so forward with ye. Nor seein’ ye act as if there was naething wrong with it and hearing the other guests whispering about it.”

“I told her I wasnae interested. That I was wed. What more did ye want?” Aedan scowled.

“Fer ye tae act like it wasnae duty that made ye refuse!” She hadn’t known that was what she felt until the words came ripping out of her, but it was the truth. “I wanted ye tae refuse because ye wanted me, nae because ye’re playin’ the part o’ honorable laird and husband.”

Aedan stared at her. “Are ye… jealous?”

“Should I nae be?” She didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t refute his words either, not without lying. She didn’t want to tell Aedan any more lies. “I ken I’ve nay proper claim on ye, even if the rest o’ the castle thinks so. But even if I did… plenty o’ men are indifferent tae their wives. Why should I think ye’d be any different with me?”

Aedan’s expression darkened. Before she even realized he’d moved, he was across the room, standing close enough for the scent of him and his heat to envelop her. “Ye think I’m indifferent tae ye?”

“Aye.”

“Ye think that kiss under the Kissing Bough, and last night… ye think that was indifference?”

“Pretense and kindness, rather.” She retorted. He was tall, and it was hard to meet his gaze, but she had no interest in stepping back or abandoning the argument.

“If ye think that… ye’re a fool, Thora MacTavish, and nae just in how ye run heedless intae danger after yer visions.” His voice was low, rough, smoke and velvet, and it made her feel warm and shivery all at once.

“Am I really? Ye didnae want tae be with me last night. Ye never kiss me unless I’m hurt or ‘tis necessary fer our deception. How would I ken that ye feel aught fer me?” She met his gaze in challenge.

Aedan’s voice came out in a rough snarl. “I’ll show ye.” Before she could respond, his mouth fastened over hers, hard and demanding.

There was nothing of pretense or of kindness. The kiss was raw, untamed passion as Aedan claimed her mouth and plundered it, tongue dueling hers for dominance and delving deep. His hand on her face was steady, but warm as the embers of the fire, and when he pulled her body flush against his, she could feel his swelling need.

She knew she shouldn’t desire him - shouldn’t succumb to the desire singing through her blood and demanding more. Her greatest secret still hung between them, the truth she knew would change all the passion in his eyes to fury, if he knew about it.

She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She’d never had the chance to experience such passion, and she couldn’t bear to let it pass her by, even knowing the possible consequences.

She’d watched her siblings fall in love and marry, seen them through their troubled times and difficulties. Even her own twin, Enya, was happy now, with a man who loved her and whom she loved in turn. Thora had never said anything to any of her siblings, but she couldn’t help thinking the same thoughts that had plagued her before.

I want tae have that as well, even if ‘tis only fer a night, or a seven-night.

Aedan loosened his hold on her slightly. “Tell me tae stop.”

Thora shook her head. “Nay.”

The second kiss was gentler, but no less thorough as Aedan’s hands tangled in the laces of the dress’s bodice and undid them. Thora was too busy undoing the ties of his shirt and the belt of his kilt to pay much attention.

“Will ye give yerself tae me, little trickster?” Aedan’s voice was a low growl that sent shivers down her spine and straight to her core. “Dae ye truly want tae be with me, now that ye’re nae drugged an’ half-asleep?”

Thora knew exactly how she wanted to respond. She slid her hand under his shirt to trail her fingers across the firm muscles of his stomach, teasing him as he had teased her the night before. “Aye. I want ye.”

Aedan’s response was a dark smile, full of promise as he scooped her off the floor. “Then I’ll give ye what ye want.”

He laid her on the bed, then moved to strip off his clothing, before he went to kneel on the bed beside her. Thora found her gaze traveling over the lean, well-formed muscles and trim waist, down to his erect member. Then Aedan leaned over her and took her chin to kiss her once more. His free hand slid down her body, just barely touching, until he released her. “Ye’re still injured. Will ye let me tak’ care o’ ye?”

“Only if ye promise nae tae stop as ye did last night.”

Aedan laughed, and the deep, warm sound of it made her heart flutter. “Och, that I can promise ye, and much more. Lift yer arms fer me.”

With that he shifted, his hands going to her legs, and began to slowly, leisurely, pull the fabric upward.

A part of Thora wanted to squirm with embarrassment, to try to hide from his desire-filled gaze. But a part of her was shivering with desire all her own, and not only welcomed his gaze, but was impatient for her clothing to be removed. She did as he told her, lifting her arms.

Cool air touched her exposed thighs, then the skin of her sex. Thora shivered, and her breathing quickened as Aedan’s hands slid across her hips and stomach, then gave just the barest of teasing touches to her breasts before he lifted the dress over her head and arms and tossed it away.

Thora started to drop her arms, but Aedan reached up and stopped her. He moved her left arm to a more comfortable position, then gave her his wolf’s smile. “Leave yer hands there. I like the look o’ ye, laid out like this, waiting fer me.”

Thora swallowed hard, her cheeks burning, but met his gaze. “And how long are ye going tae make me wait?”

“So impatient.” He laughed again and bent his head to kiss her.