Medieval Ever After (101 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rona tried and
failed to steady her hand as she reached for her cup of spiced wine. Luckily, all those gathered in the hall for their wedding celebration were too deep in their own cups to notice.

The wedding ceremony had flown by in a blur. Father Gabriel had conducted the ritual in the castle’s kirk a mere hour before, but Rona felt so disoriented and overwhelmed that it might have been a week ago.

She had been so nervous that she had shaken slightly then too, but Daniel’s warm, firm hands had enclosed around hers, strangely soothing her and making her more anxious at the same time.

“Are you well, wife?” Daniel said quietly, leaning toward her on the dais.

Apparently she wasn’t going unnoticed after all. Her stomach fluttered at his low, deep voice next to her ear. No, she wasn’t well. Not in the least.

She was a married woman now. She glanced up at Daniel, who wore a frown on his dark features. She should count herself lucky. She could have been married off to some old codger, and instead she was bound for life to the ruggedly handsome, tall, strapping Highlander seated next to her on the dais.

“I have my monthly curse,” she blurted out. It was a bald-faced lie, and she wasn’t sure why she told it, but she had to do something to delay their wedding night.

She almost wished that her husband was the kind of monstrous old codger young brides feared. If he were aged and frail of body, perhaps he wouldn’t have so much power over her. As it was, the mere sight of Daniel sent ripples of heated awareness through her. And when they had kissed in the kirk after speaking their vows—

It had been barely a brush of the lips, but Daniel had held the kiss a second longer than necessary. In that moment, his masculine scent, of leather and mint, had enveloped her, making her feel light-headed and girlish.

His lips had been surprisingly soft. How could such a rugged warrior be so gentle? But as he’d pulled back from the kiss, his blue-gray eyes had pinned her with a look of hunger that stirred something deep inside her. Something that was decidedly ungentle.

She couldn’t let him affect her so much. She feared her own reaction to him, feared that her mind would become clouded and addled enough that she might let something slip—something that could cost not only her life, but also the lives of Ian and Mairi Ferguson.

As it was, he was giving her one of those piercing looks that made her fear that he could see right through her lie.

“How…unfortunate,” he said levelly.

“We’ll have to wait to consummate our marriage,” she said with her best attempt at innocence. He only grunted in response, though his eyes remained on her, searching her face.

She turned back to watch the merriment of the castle’s residents, pretending to be engrossed. All told, it was a relatively muted celebration. Because many months of winter stretched before them, and because it had been a harder year that most, the feast was more like a large meal. And though some villagers had braved the choppy, cold waters of the loch to attend the celebration, the biting wind that promised a wicked storm had kept most at home.

Daniel had mentioned at the start of the meal that there would be a more elaborate celebration in a month or two when the worst of winter was over. He even mentioned that his family would likely join them to honor their marriage. After what he had told her of his family, she was intrigued to meet them.

But, she reminded herself firmly, she couldn’t get too close to this man or his family if she hoped to maintain her secret.

Of course, lying about her monthly curse was only a temporary solution. She knew she would eventually have to consummate the marriage with him. Even though she was a maiden and should be afraid of what that would entail, the thought brought a foreign warmth to her limbs, one that couldn’t entirely be attributed to the spiced wine.

That was exactly the kind of reaction that could make her slip up. She cursed her own body for its womanly desire for the very masculine presence next to her. Why couldn’t he have been old and ineffectual and addlebrained? Why did he have to be young and handsome, strong and sharp-witted? How could she ever hope to protect her love of falconry and the dear friends who had taught her?

This was all too much. She mumbled an excuse and stood from the table to leave, but he caught her hand in his, tugging her back.

“Good night,
wife
,” he said warmly, though his stormy eyes bore into her.

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. But instead of releasing her hand when he withdrew his lips, he pulled her down into his lap.

Before she knew what was happening, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her in place, while the other snaked through her loose hair to gently grip the nape of her neck.

This kiss was nothing like their first in the kirk. Instead of a light brush, his lips melded to hers. Somehow, his lips were simultaneously soft and firm, demanding and coaxing. That scent, of leather and mint and his unique warm skin, snaked around her once again, intoxicating her.

His tongue flicked against her lower lip, and she instinctively parted her lips a little. To her surprise, he tilted their heads more, and then slowly began exploring her mouth. His tongue caressed her, hot and wet. She had never been kissed like this before. Though her own innocence left her in the dark on such matters, she began to have an inkling of where kisses could lead, and why she had always been told never to give her kisses to the castle lads.

His tongue swirled, penetrating her.

Their mouths were fused hotly, moving together.

Her head spun as the sensations swept over her.

This was intimate. And from what little she knew, this was a precursor to much more intimate acts.

Tentatively, she grazed his tongue with hers. The hand on her nape contracted, tightening its grip on her hair and neck, which sent shivers of awareness through her. The tingles seemed to gather especially in her breasts and between her legs.

Suddenly she became aware of a growing hardness under her bottom. Even through the thick wool of his kilt, she could feel him filling with desire and need. Some instinctual drive inside told her to move her hips slightly so that she ground against his lap. When she did, he exhaled sharply through his nose. A feminine satisfaction seeped into her.

The whistles and ribald jokes sent up from the crowded hall snapped her out of her dangerously tantalizing reverie. She jerked her head back, breaking their kiss, but he held her firmly in place on his lap.

“I look forward to our
real
wedding night, lass,” he said huskily in her ear.

She couldn’t muster a response. Instead, she stood with whatever dignity she could scrape together and practically stumbled toward the stairs on the other side of the hall. She kept her eyes down, but she was sure the burning in her cheeks gave her away to everyone in the hall, including Daniel.

The cool darkness of her chamber did little to alleviate her heated skin and racing heart. Damn her body! It had a mind of its own when it came to Daniel Sinclair.

Her husband.

How much could she truly keep from him? He didn’t seem like the type of man to let things go unnoticed. He hadn’t pressed her further about where she’d been on the day he arrived, but how many more times could she disappear for several hours at a time before he demanded an explanation?

Her father had either never noticed or didn’t care enough about her whereabouts to raise a fuss about it. And anyone else who observed her leaving the castle and crossing the loch must have assumed that she enjoyed going to the village or walking alone in the woods. They had all accepted that she was an unusual sort of girl.

She had never been good at sewing or weaving or overseeing the household. But Agnes and the other servants had the castle well under control. And though she was barb-tongued and hot-tempered, people mostly either admired her for her forthrightness or chuckled at her father’s inability to control her.

But having a husband with piercing, observant eyes and a stubborn, commanding temperament was going to ruin her carefully balanced life—or worse.

There was simply too much at stake. She had to keep finding ways to hold Daniel at arm’s length. For now it was the lie about her monthly curse, but she would have to come up with something better, and fast. The way he kissed her said that he wouldn’t be kept at bay for long.

HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Shut the door
behind you,” Daniel said to Kennedy and his man Malcolm. He was seated behind what had been Kennedy’s desk in the private study near the top of the tower keep.

He gestured for the two men to take a seat before him. Kennedy acquiesced smoothly, but Malcolm eyed Daniel before sitting.

Without preamble, Daniel launched into his speech, addressing Kennedy.

“I’d like you to return to Dunure, Laird. I’m sure your people would be most grateful to have you among them again, and I have things under control here.”

In the week since his marriage, Daniel had indeed made strides in winning the trust and respect of the people of Loch Doon, as well as tightening the operations of the castle. He’d gathered that Gilbert Kennedy wasn’t the most observant or fastidious of men. Daniel had spent much of his time increasing the training of the men of the castle as well as going over the ledgers for errors in calculations. Even if Kennedy was completely loyal to Robert the Bruce, the man was ill-suited to keep the King’s castle in order.

Thankfully, Daniel saw little evidence that Kennedy was openly colluding with the English against the Bruce. The fact remained, however, that he had paid Raef Warren, one of Scotland’s greatest enemies, an exorbitant sum to avoid having the castle razed. Kennedy had also continued to pay taxes to England’s Edward II.

Dunbraes, Warren’s stronghold, wasn’t far from here, and the bastard often had his army run drills near the village just to frighten and terrorize the people of Loch Doon. So far, it had worked. But if the Bruce’s plan to secure Loch Doon and eventually lay siege to Dunbraes went right, Raef Warren would finally be stopped. And the bastard would finally pay for all the harm and strife he had caused Scotland.

Daniel refocused his thoughts on the two men in front of him. Malcolm looked shocked, but Kennedy seemed unfazed.

“I suspected you might send me away shortly after the wedding,” Kennedy said evenly. “It never does well to have too many cooks in the kitchen, or too many lords in the castle, as the case may be.”

Daniel inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding. And know that I will tell King Robert of your cooperation.”

“But Laird,” Malcolm sputtered, “what about all the Kennedys who have come to call Loch Doon home? Are we to be sent away too?”

Daniel regarded Kennedy’s man for a moment. He was thin and narrow-shouldered, with a nondescript mop of brown hair on his head. Though he looked befuddled at the moment, Malcolm normally had the air of a keen observer.

“Just to be clear, I am not sending your Laird away, Malcolm,” Daniel said levelly. “I’m asking him to return to his keep, where he may better serve his people. Any Kennedys who moved to Loch Doon with you are more than welcome to stay, or if they prefer, they can return to Dunure or Turnberry with you.”