Kill or Be Kilt (20 page)

His hands skimmed her body, and she trailed tickling fingers up and down his arms. Passion pounded his blood, and he could sense the barely controlled power that coiled in his body.

With a single thrust, he made her his. She gasped in sweet agony and took him fully, her innocent touch sending him to even higher levels of ecstasy. He stilled, giving her body time to adjust, but it wasn't long before they found a gentle rhythm that bound their bodies as one.

The feel of her soft skin against his was exalting. He reached down between them and rubbed her sensitive spot. When she let out a cry of delight, he threw back his head and sought his own release.

For once in his life, he was filled with an amazing sense of completeness. They were as one and would be man and wife—forever bonded. As far as he was concerned, they already were.

* * *

“Are ye all right? I tried to be careful.”

Elizabeth nestled her bottom into his groin as he wrapped his arms around her. “Mmm… I am more than all right, Laird Munro.”

She stroked her fingernails over the soft hairs on Ian's arm for quite some time. His breathing slowed, and when a little snort escaped him, she smiled. The man could fall asleep anywhere.

Ian had a pleasant way of distracting her from the evening's events. In fact, she wondered if he could distract her more often. Although her first time being with a man was uncomfortable, Ian was a tender lover. Speaking their vows was only a formality—there was nothing that would tear them apart. Who would've thought the young girl who adored this man would have her dreams come true? She was filled with a great sense of peace.

Elizabeth opened her eyes in the morning to Ian's bare, firm buttocks beside the bed. He donned his tunic and then wrapped his kilt around him. When he bent to pick up his boots, his eyes met hers, and she smiled.

“
Madainn mhath.
”

“Good morning to you, too. Isn't it still too early to rise?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and donned his boots. “Aye, but I'll take my leave before anyone wakes up. Can ye grant me a boon?”

“After last night, I'd grant you anything.” She grinned when his face reddened.

“Can ye nae mention to Ruairi or Fagan that I asked for your hand?” When a worried expression crossed her face, he brushed his fingers across her cheek. “'Tis naught like that, lass. I have nae changed my mind. Ruairi knows that I've been trying to woo ye. I want to ask him properly for your hand.”

“Of course.” When he stood, she asked, “Could you please hand me my nightrail?”

He walked over and searched near the table, retrieving the cloth from under the chair. As he turned, he gave her a roguish grin as her nightrail hung between his fingers. “It seems to have made it across the room. Mayhap ye should come and get it, eh?”

Ian's eyes widened when she threw the blankets from the bed and stood before him as bare as the day she was born. His stare was bold and assessed her frankly. The way he looked at her…the meaning of his gaze was obvious. His nearness made her senses spin.

“Lift your arms, lass.” He slowly lowered her nightrail over her arms until she was fully covered. “There is naught I would like more than to stay with ye all day abed, but I must take my leave.”

He lowered his head to kiss her, and once again his expert touch sent shivers of desire racing through her. She pulled him close, feeling his hardness press against her. His mouth seared a path down her neck, her shoulders, and then he pulled back and brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead.

“I must go.”

She walked him to the door, and he grabbed his sword that still rested against the wall. He lifted the latch on the door, and looking over his shoulder, he whispered, “
Tha gaol agam ort.
”

“And I love you.”

She gently closed the door behind him. When she heard men out in the hall, she paused, recognizing one of the voices all too well.

“Munro, what the hell did ye do?” asked Fagan.

Ian opened Fagan's door and shoved him back into his room. “Shut the hell up. Ye'll wake up Ruairi. Should ye nae still be abed? What are ye doing awake now anyway?”

“I could nae go back to sleep. Munro, what am I going to do with ye, eh?” Fagan sighed in exasperation. “I was hoping ye had enough sense to leave Elizabeth's chambers last eve, but clearly I was wr—”

“Donna even attempt to lecture me on taking my wife's virtue before we were wed,” said Ian, interrupting vehemently. “As I recall, ye did the same with yours.”

“And Ruairi knocked me on my arse for it.
Fuirich mionaid.
”
Wait a moment.
“Did ye say your
wife
?” A flash of humor crossed Fagan's face, and then he laughed in a deep, jovial way.

Ian only realized his slip of the tongue when the words had already escaped him. “Why am I plagued by friends who are such arses?”

“All I have to say is…'tis about damn time, Munro!” Fagan shook Ian's hand and slapped him on the back.

“Aye, well, keep your mouth shut. Elizabeth has agreed to be mine and promised nae to say anything until I have a chance to ask Ruairi for her hand properly.” His eyes narrowed. “Heed my words, Fagan. I know ye gossip more than the lasses. I donna want ye to breathe a word about this to anyone.”

“Ye donna have to worry. 'Tis nay great secret I've been hoping ye'd find your way into each other's arms.” A concerned look crossed his face. “How is the lass after last eve with Condell?”

“She'll be all right in time. Although, she asked me what she did wrong that made Condell think she'd toss her skirts. I donna understand why that's the first thing women think of when men misbehave. But I am thankful the lass knew enough to grasp the man by the bollocks to bring him to his knees before any more harm was done.”

“Och, aye. Well, we can all thank Ravenna for that.”

“In truth, it pains me to think about what would've happened to Elizabeth otherwise.”

Fagan's eyes darkened with emotion. “I ne'er told ye this, but something similar happened to Grace many years ago.”

Ian lifted a brow, and there was an uncomfortable silence. “Was she rap—”

“Nay. Even though it took her some time to erase the man from memory, she finally managed. I think men like us are put on this earth to protect those we love, and now that Elizabeth will be your wife, she'll have ye to shelter her from bastards like Condell.”

“I could nae have said the words better myself. I'm weary. I'll meet ye below stairs in an hour.”

“I imagine the lass is feeling much the same.” When Fagan gave him a knowing look, Ian punched him in the arm.

“Arse.” Ian reached for the latch on the door.

“Aye. Munro…”

Ian glanced over his shoulder.

“I'm happy for ye both. I'm glad ye let Elizabeth into your heart.” Fagan paused. “She wanted to be there for a long time.”

* * *

“Lady Elizabeth, the men are bringing up a tub for you to bathe,” said Mistress Betts through the door.

Elizabeth sat up, trying to clear the haze. “Just a moment.”

As she lifted the blankets and placed her feet on the floor, she noticed a spot of blood on the bed. She felt a rush of panic, knowing she wasn't due for her monthly courses. But she didn't have time to think about that now. Hastily, she donned her robe and flipped back the blankets into their rightful position. With one last look around her room to make certain everything was in order, she smoothed her unruly tresses and opened the door.

“Laird Munro said you wanted a bath this morn, my lady,” said Mistress Betts.

“Umm…yes. I'm sorry. I overslept.”

“That's quite all right. The men are bringing up a tub, and the hot water will be ready soon.” Mistress Betts walked over to the table. “Let me push this and the chairs against the wall, and I'll make room for you.”

“Don't trouble yourself. Here. Let me help you with that.” Elizabeth lifted the other end of the table, and then they moved the two chairs flush against the wall.

Two men brought the tub through the door, and even though it was smaller than most, it was a tight fit, especially because there wasn't a lot of open space to walk around in her room anyway. As soon as the men departed, three young boys dumped buckets of steaming water into the tub.

Mistress Betts smiled. “Do you need me to assist you?”

“I'm able to manage. Thank you.”

“I'm sorry. I forgot something.” Mistress Betts walked out into the hall and returned with towels, placing them on the table beside the tub. “There's a rag to wash and a couple drying cloths. There's also a small piece of soap. I'm sorry that I don't have anything to offer you, my lady.”

“This is more than enough.”

“I'll be back in a few moments with a tray, and then I'll help you dress.”

“You take such good care of me, Mistress Betts.”

“And it is my pleasure, my lady.”

The door closed, and Elizabeth opened the lid to her trunk. She rifled underneath her dresses until she found her pouch of lavender. Her fingers made quivering motions in the water as she sprinkled the contents into the tub. She tied up the small bag, and once she secured it in her trunk, she removed her robe and nightrail.

Grabbing the side of the tub for support, she climbed in, letting the warm water soothe her aching body. She let out a heavy sigh of pleasure, and a smile crossed her face when she thought of Ian. Although she was tender and sore, she enjoyed being with him. She closed her eyes, musing on private memories, and her lips tingled in remembrance of his touch.

When he'd removed his kilt and she'd caught a glimpse of his jutting manhood, he had pleasantly distracted her before allowing panic to set in. She was glad he did because she'd wondered how in the world they'd even be able to complete the act. Ian was a large man so she shouldn't have been surprised the rest of him would follow suit. She still had no idea how she'd managed to accept him fully. But she'd never forget how respectful and caring he was with her, the way every man should treat a woman.

The steam and smell of lavender calmed her. She felt at peace. There was a quiet knock, and Mistress Betts entered with the tray of food.

“There's no need to rush. Enjoy your bath, my lady.”

Mistress Betts placed the tray on the table beside the bed, and before Elizabeth could stop her, the woman lifted the blankets in an attempt to straighten what Elizabeth had done in haste earlier to cover the blood.

When Mistress Betts stilled and a puzzled gaze crossed her face, Elizabeth's mind raced. “I…er, what I mean to—”

“You don't have to say anything, my lady.” Mistress Betts grabbed all the blankets from the bed and gathered them into a ball. “I'll wash these myself. And what happened is no one's business but yours and a certain laird's.” Her eyes were kind and understanding, and then she turned and lifted the latch on the door. “I'll take these below stairs and bring you some fresh blankets.” Before she could respond, the door closed again.

Elizabeth didn't think Mistress Betts would tell anyone about her indiscretion, but she felt ill at ease the woman knew Ian had shared her bed last night. Furthermore, she favored Mistress Betts. She didn't want the woman thinking she was a harlot.

Pulling herself from the tub, Elizabeth grabbed a drying cloth from the table and stepped out of the water. Once she was dry, she donned her nightrail and robe and then sat on the bed to break her fast. There was a single knock, and Mistress Betts returned with an armful of blankets.

“We have enough room over here for you to dress, if that suits you, and I can have the men remove the tub after you leave for court,” said Mistress Betts.

“That would be fine.” Elizabeth paused. “I must admit that I'm feeling rather humiliated, but I do want you to know… Laird Munro and I are betrothed.”

Mistress Betts smiled. “It was only a matter of time, my lady. I'm glad to hear it, but you don't need to offer me an explanation.”

“Yes, well, it's important that you don't think poorly of me.”

“Lady Elizabeth, I could never think poorly of you. Now let's get you dressed for court.”

* * *

“Are ye certain ye donna want me to talk with Elizabeth?” asked Ruairi, walking with Ian to the stable.

“I talked with her late last eve. She was a wee bit shaken, but she's all right. Ye do remember she is a Walsingham and comes from a long line of tough stock. But I do give thanks to your wife for showing the lass how to bring a man to his knees.”

“At least Ravenna did nae show Elizabeth how to kill a man because then we'd have one hell of a mess to explain.”

“There is that.”

The sun was shining, and a cool breeze lifted the edge of Ian's kilt. As they watched the stable hands saddling their horses, Ian felt like a lad about to ask his father for a big favor. He wiped his sweaty palms on his kilt, folded his arms over his chest, and then placed his hands at his sides.

“I told ye before that I loved Elizabeth.”

Ruairi glanced at Ian and spoke hesitantly. “Aye, ye did.”

“I'm asking ye now for her hand in marriage. I want her to be my wife.”

“Ye want that responsibility?” Ruairi's eyes grew openly amused. “I mean to say that ye were uncertain she'd have ye when Condell was fighting for the lass's affections.”

“I've ne'er been surer of anything in my life,” said Ian with conviction.

“After last eve, I donna think ye have to worry about Condell winning Elizabeth's favor anytime soon. But is that why ye're asking me for her hand now?”

“Nay. I've been an idiot for too long.”

“Good. I wanted to make certain ye were nae just asking me because ye were afraid of losing the lass to another man.” His friend smiled from ear to ear. “Ye've made my day, Munro. Although I will miss Lady Elizabeth being on Sutherland lands, I thank ye for taking a Walsingham out from under my roof. With Ravenna, wee Mary, Katherine, another bairn on the way, and especially Grace, I need all the help I can get. Poor Torquil needs a brother soon. My home is completely overrun by women.”

“I could have told ye that. Do I have your blessing to take Elizabeth as my wife?”

“Aye, if the lass will have ye. I can nae see Ravenna having any disagreement with that either.”

“
Mòran taing.
”
Thank you very much.

Ruairi studied Ian intently. “When will ye ask her?”

“When the time is right.”

“The sun is finally shining upon us. Do ye think we'll be granted our audience with the king?” asked a male voice.

Ruairi and Ian turned as Fagan greeted them with a smile.

“Being that the Ross, Fraser, and MacKay arrived three days before us, that is my hope. I'm ready to take my leave and wash my hands of this place. I want to take my wife and my clan home where they belong,” said Ruairi. “And speaking of wives, it seems Munro will be taking one home too.”

Fagan placed his hand over his heart, and his jaw dropped. “Munro will be taking someone to wife? Who might that be?”

“I hate ye both,” said Ian.

“Come now, Munro. What would ye do without us?” asked Fagan.

“Do ye want me to answer that?”

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't proud to admit that she'd made the men late for court. Even though none had complained, she felt guilty. A jousting tournament had already begun. As they made their way to the bleachers, a warm hand rested against the small of her back, and a lovely Scottish accent whispered in her ear.

“I did nae think it possible, but ye are glowing this morn.”

She looked at Ian and smiled. “I believe I have you to thank for that, Laird Munro.”

“How are ye feeling? Are ye all right?”

When she realized what he'd meant, she smiled. “I'm fine, but I do thank you for the bath.”

“'Twas the least I could do.”

They took their seats in the stands, and Elizabeth watched two men prepare for the tournament across the field from one another.

Jousting armor was being securely fastened on each man as grooms cared for the large destriers. The horses wore caparisons displaying their rider's heraldry as well as chamfrons to shield their heads. Barding was also being placed into position to protect the bodies of the horses. She was pleased so many precautions were taken to shield the riders and their mounts from harm.

As she looked closer, Lord Kinghorne was escorting Lady Glamis away from the riders. The woman must've been thrilled to meet the competitors, and for a moment, Elizabeth's faith was restored in the earl because of his kindness toward his elderly mother. Ian was right. Elizabeth couldn't have been sure of what she had seen.

“Lady Elizabeth! Lady Elizabeth!”

When she turned and gazed over her shoulder, Lady Margery was waving her hands madly in the air. She sat with her sister three rows behind Elizabeth. Leaning forward in the stands, Lady Margery rested her hand on the man in front of her in order to talk with Elizabeth.

“Please beg my pardon.” Lady Margery offered the man an apologetic smile. “Lady Elizabeth, do be sure to cheer for the man on the right. He's my father's friend and a member of the council. Jousting has been Lord Dormer's pastime for years.”

“I will, Lady Margery.” Elizabeth turned around and leaned closer to Ian. “Did you ever joust?”

“I've ne'er had a desire to maim my enemies. I prefer their deaths to be quick with a blow from my sword.” When a soft gasp escaped her, he added, “I'm only jesting with ye. I've ne'er jousted.”

A hushed silence fell over the crowd as the competitors mounted their horses, and both men moved into position. The men kicked their mounts, thundering toward each other at breakneck speed. One of the lances shattered on his opponent's shield, and Lord Dormer was unhorsed, falling hard to the ground with a heavy thump. Shouts erupted from the bleachers, and the winner held up his lance in victory.