When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (19 page)

She quirked her mouth. “I can
understand what you mean, but do you never take the counsel of your men if they
challenge your orders?”

“They dunnae challenge me.”

She arched her eyebrows at him.
“None of them? Ever?”

He started to say no but stopped
himself. “My brothers and Rory Mac,” he admitted. “But they never challenge my
orders in public. Only in private.”

She grinned. “Then if I ever
challenge one of your orders, may I do so in private, as well?”

He liked very much how sweetly
she’d asked and had not demanded it. “Aye,” he agreed easily. “But,” he
continued, wanting to make sure she understood, “I may nae concur with yer
argument, and if that’s the case, ye’ll simply have to accept my choice, as do
all my brothers and Rory Mac. I dunnae give orders without great thought,
Marion, and today’s order to tell ye to stay in yer bedchamber was for yer
safety.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “I
know, and I’m sorry.”

He kissed her on her forehead. “I’m
sorry, too.”

“Thank you,” she burst out and
circled his waist once more to hug him.

He grinned down at the top of her
head. His wife was very affectionate, and he liked it very much, and he’d like
it even more when they were alone. With that thought in mind, he unwound her
arms, took her hand, and opened the bedchamber door. The maid, who had been
sitting doing embroidery, hurried to her feet, her eyes wide. “My lord, I—”

He held up his hand. “I ken ye were
commanded to feign being in here. The matter has been settled to my
satisfaction, and I dunnae blame ye. Ye may go.”

The woman did not hesitate. She
rushed past them, nearly tripping in her haste to get out the door. When the
door shut, Marion giggled. “I feel awful for causing her worry,” she said,
contradicting her laughter.

“Ye dunnae seem to feel awful.”

“I do,” she said, smothering
another laugh. “But when she looked like a fearful child, I could not help but
think of how silly I must have looked trying to hide from you in the
courtyard.”

Iain chuckled. “Aye, ye did look
silly when ye knew I’d seen ye.”

“I was afraid,” she admitted.

“Why?” he asked, turning her toward
him and threading his hands into her hair. “Would yer father’s consequences
have been great?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes
taking on a faraway look.

“Marion, I will never hurt ye.”

She nodded quickly, but her eyes
still appeared haunted. He wanted to wipe away those bad memories and replace
them with new, happy ones. Hopefully, they could start now. “I want ye in my
bed and my arms tonight, but if ye’re too sore from last night or today—”

“I want to be in your bedchamber
tonight, Iain,” Marion said in a shy whisper. Iain’s heart jolted as desire
overcame him.

He gazed at his beautiful, battered
wife. “I suppose I should keep ye near me to keep ye out of trouble.”

She grinned at his words. “I
suppose you should.” Her voice was full of contentment, which pleased him
mightily. They quickly left her bedchamber, and as he opened the door to his
own, she said, “I always knew following my own mind would have benefits
someday.”

He started to reply when a throat
was cleared behind him. He turned to find a young maid. She curtsied. “My lord,
the MacLean bid me
see
if ye needed anything.
He thought ye might be alone and need help bathing yer back,” she said, batting
her eyelashes at Iain.

Marion stiffened beside him. He
fought the desire to grin. He liked that his wife was jealous. He liked it very
much, indeed. It showed she cared for him, though he didn’t care for the
thought that she would believe he’d ever be untrue to her. “My wife will bathe
my back,” he said gently, so as not to embarrass the girl for simply following
Alex’s orders.

Marion plunked her hands on her
hips. “You can let all the maids know that I’ll be the only one to ever bathe
the MacLeod’s back again.” She glared at him, as if he’d implied otherwise.
Then she whipped her gaze back to the stunned maid. “And make sure to tell your
laird, as well,” Marion snapped.

The woman’s face went pale. “Yes,
my lady.”

Marion offered her a sweet smile.
“I’m not angry with you, so please do not be worried. Truly, I’m a nice person.
I really don’t even have a temper.”

“Yes, my lady,” the maid said again,
giving Marion a dubious look.

Iain’s side ached with the desire to
laugh. He cleared his throat. “It seems I cause it in her. She’s verra jealous
of me,” he said to the young woman as she backed out the door. He shut it
behind her, and when he turned around, Marion was frowning at him.

“Why did you have to tell her that
I’m jealous of you?”

He did laugh then as he reached out
and pulled Marion against the length of his body. He brushed a bit of her loose
hair out of her eyes. “Because ye are. And she’ll forgive jealousy but nae
meanness.”

He ran his thumb very lightly
across Marion’s bruised lips. She tensed but then relaxed against him. Her
curves pressed against him reminded him of the night before and made him go
hard with longing. He traced his fingertips down her scratched arm to her
breasts and cupped one of them as he circled his thumb over her taut bud. Need
pounded through him as she pushed even closer to him.

“I like that ye’re jealous over
me,” he admitted, his voice almost hoarse with desire.

She pursed her lips as she brought
her hand to his chest and laid her palm flat against his beating heart. “What
about you?” she asked. “Are you jealous over me?”

“Nay.”

She frowned and tried to move away
from him, but he caught her at the elbow and brought her hard against him once
more, so that her breath whooshed out when her body collided with his. “I
dunnae get jealous ever.” He just didn’t want anyone to touch her or stare at
her overly long, but that was different.

She quirked her mouth. “Why is
that?”

“Because I am the master of my
emotions, Marion. I dunnae allow myself to feel what I dunnae wish to feel.”

Her brows dipped together. “How
nice for you,” she grumbled. “We simple humans are often ruled by emotions.
Some people even think that when great emotion strikes, such as deep love, or
anger,” she quickly added, “one cannot control oneself.”

“I always control myself,” he
managed to get out, in spite of the fact he could feel his control slipping
away. He wanted to throw her on the bed, rip off her gown, and worship her
body.

“I suppose you are not jealous
because you do not wish to feel anything for me,” she said, glancing down.

The hurt in her voice sliced
through him. His guilt, his own tortured mind, was hurting her. He was a clot-heid.
Shame poured over him as he hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face
until he found her glorious green gaze on him once more, and this time his
heart jolted with feelings for her. Shock vibrated through him. For a long
moment, he said nothing as he realized that the connection he felt to her had
already strengthened.

“I feel things for ye,” he admitted
finally, “in spite of the fact that I dunnae want to.”

“You do?” she asked in a shaky
whisper.

He nodded. “Aye.”

A loud knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” Iain demanded,
irritated by the interruption.

“We’ve bathing water for ye.”

Iain released Marion, strode to the
door, and let the two boys enter with big barrels of steaming water. As they
filled the wooden tub, he studied his wife, standing there nibbling on her hurt
lip with her flushed cheeks, yet her head was still held high. She was a fine
woman, and he was struck with how very fortunate he had been. He could have
been wedded to a cold woman, indeed, but Marion was hot as a burning log, and
he was glad for it, in spite of the unwanted emotions she stirred.

When the boys finished, Iain closed
the door and turned slowly toward his wife. He didn’t want to talk anymore, and
he prayed to God she’d let it be. He didn’t understand what she stirred in him,
nor what he was going to do about it, but he comprehended completely how much
he wanted her.

He walked slowly over to her and
stopped a hairsbreadth from her. “Shall we bathe?”

Her gaze widened, and he was afraid
she was going to say no, but she nodded. “That would be nice.”

Nice
was not what he had in mind, but he kept that thought to himself. When she
started to raise her hands, as if trying to disrobe herself, he caught them in
his and shook his head. “Let me,” he said, moving around to her back. “Tell me
what happened to you and Bridgette.”

As he slowly started to undo her
gown, her soft melodic voice filled the silence as she explained very
matter-of-factly how she and Bridgette were racing back to the castle in the
dark, of Bridgette’s fall off the mountainside, and how Marion had risked her
own life to save Bridgette’s.

“Ye’re courageous and foolish,” he
said, meaning it. The idea that she could have died helping Bridgette made his
insides twist into a tight coil. Yet, had she not helped, he’d have thought her
a coward and the behavior shameful. So he couldn’t fault her.

She glanced back at him as he
lowered her gown over one silky shoulder and then the next. Her green eyes
flashed with anger. His wife, in spite of her protest to the contrary, had
quite a temper. He liked her show of spirit. He liked everything about her thus
far, except her disobeying the orders meant to keep her safe.

“What would you have had me do?”
she demanded. “Let Bridgette fall?”

He turned her around to face him as
he caught the soft material next to her skin and dragged it downward over her
high, firm breasts, lower still
over
her tiny waist, and down farther past her rounded hips and lush bottom. His
blood sang through his veins as he moved his gaze inch by pleasurable inch over
her long legs and flat stomach back up to her eyes.

“If ye’d obeyed my order to stay in
the bedchamber, then ye would have never been in such a dangerous position. But
I’d never have ye leave someone in need.”

He could see her jaw visibly
clenching. He expected her to argue so was surprised when she said, “Perchance
could we call your commands to me ‘requests’?”

He chuckled. “Fine,
requests
,”
he answered as he motioned for her to step out of her chemise. “But dunnae ever
tell my brothers or Rory Mac I consented to this.”

A wistful look swept across her
face. “You have a big family.”

“
We
have a big family,” he
replied and helped her remove the chemise, out of which she had yet stepped
out. She blushed and tried to cross her arms over her chest, but he lowered her
hands to her sides and drank in the sight of her. “Ye’re so beautiful.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, which
made her chest rise higher, taking his lust along with it. “You’re blind,
then,” she said flippantly.

“Nay.” He tentatively flattened a
palm against her stomach and eyed her.

“I’m not in pain,” she encouraged.

“I see ye clearly, Marion. It’s ye
who does nae see yerself. But I find I like that.” He traced a sensual path to
her breast with his other hand. “What did ye learn today?” he asked as he
circled her taut bud with his fingers. The pink nub strained tighter and his own
body felt as if he were being stretched to near breaking.

“I learned,” she murmured, “that
following Bridgette will likely get me into trouble.” Her voice was so husky
and alluring.

He’d meant to ask if she had
learned anything from the seer, but he let her misinterpretation of his
question pass. He wanted no more talking, just touching. He cupped her entire
breast and lowered his head to trace his tongue in a slow circle around the
bud.

She moaned and pressed herself into
his hand. Desire gripped him in an unrelenting iron hold. All he could think
about was how he wanted to suckle her and enter her. His lips found her flesh
again, and he drew the bud into his mouth, aching ecstasy filling him. He
pulled and released her flesh until ragged moans came from her and she arched
fully toward him, making him doubt that he could control himself any longer.

He removed his clothes deftly as he
continued to torture her with pleasure, and when he was naked, he released her
breast only to grasp her under the bottom and heave her to his waist. He half
expected her to protest, but a violent need to be inside her claimed him. When
her legs circled his waist, her hands gripped his back, and her mouth pressed
to his ear to beg him to take her, he lost all reason. He closed the distance
between them and the door, and he took her there, suspended in air, soft
perfect flesh against hard battle-scarred flesh. He entered her again and
again, until sweat dripped from his skin and every nerve in his body burned
with pleasure.

He did not stop until he felt he’d
explode, and his seed poured into her. His body shook with the release as she
cried out, and he slumped against her. Her breath fanned his ear, cool air
caressed his damp back, and the realization of how he’d taken her like a
rutting pig hit him.