The Highlander's Reward (13 page)

Arbella’s eyes widened.
“Pardon?”

Agnes
snapped her mouth shut, then opened it again. “I meant no offense, my lady, I just wondered how a person could survive without eating meat.”

Arbella laughed. “I’ve heard that many times. As you can see, I am not wasting away.”

“Aye, indeed.” Agnes noticed her spying the platter of pear pastries on one of the tables. “Would ye like another?”

She smiled widely. “I do believe we shall get on just fine now, Cook.”

Agnes grinned. “I aim to add a bit more fat to those hips. The laird is a large man, his bairns are bound to be too.”

Arbella’s stomach flipped and her eyes widened. She snatched the pastry and hurried from the kitchen, the sounds of the women singing again in the background.

Lydia took her through the gardens, showing her the herbs, vegetables and fruits they grew that were still in season. Not many were left. Arbella made a list of seeds she would like to purchase. They visited the pantry where she took stock of their perishable items, impressed with the supply of vegetables and drying herbs.

“Who is in charge of the food supply?” she asked Lydia.

Lydia gave a proud smile. “My daughter is, my lady.”

“And who is your daughter?”

“Ula.”

“She has done a very good job. I have not seen a pantry so organized.”

“The laird likes a variety. The man has more of taste for vegetables than most. Says it helps him perform better on the battlefield. He insists on his people eating a healthy variety.”

Arbella nodded. There was more to Magnus th
an met the eye. And yet another reason he was a good for her.

Their last stop was to the buttery
stocked with barrels of ale, jugs of wine and casks of whiskey. When she turned to leave, she spotted Magnus looming in the doorway. He took up nearly the entire frame with his height and breadth. His face was clean as were his arms and hands. He’d taken the time to wash up before finding her. Lydia had disappeared out the door without looking back.

The scowl
on her husband’s face was enough to make her wish she could sink into one of the barrels of ale.

“What were ye thinking?” he growled.

She knew exactly of what he spoke. “I wanted to speak with you.”

“At the expense of your life?”

She shook her head. That wasn’t the case at all. “I did not know…”

“I told
ye I was working with my men.” He stomped toward her, coming within a foot of her.

She should be afraid
; take heed of Glenda’s warnings that Scotsmen liked to beat their wives, but she just didn’t believe it of Magnus.

“You
were afraid for me,” she gloated smugly. Inside she tingled to know that he cared at least that much for her.

“
I have no such fear. I did not know it until after the fact. I am angry that ye would have killed yourself.”

She laughed aloud. “I did not do it intentionally, Magnus.”

His frown turned to a look of carnal need. “I like when ye say my name. Say it again.”

“Magnus.”
This time when she spoke his name it came out in a husky whisper. Her entire body came to life, nipples aching for his mouth, her lips tingling for a kiss and her thighs quivering. Her heartbeat quickened along with her breath.

He growled and slammed the pantry closed with his foot. He never took his eyes off her, only gripped her behind her neck and hauled her forward, his lips crashing on hers in a demanding, fiery kiss. Arbella was swept up into a maelstrom of need, desire,
pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him just as fiercely.

“I must have ye,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Now? Here?”

“Aye.
Right now. Right here.” The sound of his voice, so filled with desire, sent ripples of pleasure straight to her core, exciting her.

She moaned, loving how insatiable he was when it came to her.
Made her feel more feminine, more powerful. She rode that power all the way by grinding her hips against his, feeling the swell of his need against the apex of her thighs.

Magnus lifted her into the air and sat her down on top of one of the barrels. He kept his lips pressed to hers and yanked her skirts up around her hips.
He stroked over the folds of her sex, heightening her need for him. His thumb found the nub of her pleasure, teasing her until she panted for more. She wanted him. Wanted him to feel the way she did.

She stroked a shaky hand up his naked thigh beneath his plaid, growing bolder when he groaned against her lips. Then she found it.
His shaft, thick and hard, but velvety soft and warm. Arbella wrapped her fingers around his length, squeezing slightly. His hips jerked forward, and he dragged his mouth from hers to settle at the crook of her neck. Magnus panted as he sucked and nipped at her flesh, grasping her breast with one hand as his fingers plunged deep inside her. She cried out with pleasure, and stroked her hand up and down his hardened member.

“Och, lass… I’ve come undone.”

With those words, he gripped her hand that held his erection and guided it toward her center. He kept her there letting her feel his length as he slowly pressed inside of her. It was intense, erotic, drove her to madness. But the urgency of their lovemaking took hold. He gripped her buttocks, lifting her slightly from the barrel and drove deep inside her. His thrusts were quick and hard, then slow and shallow. He repeated his movements until she bucked off the barrel and cried out with a release that was both as vigorous and as wild as their joining. With her center tightening and squeezing against his shaft, Magnus let out a guttural groan, shuddering deep inside her.

“I think I married a wanton,” he said, teething her nipple through her gown.

“And I a rutting stallion.”

“Thank
ye.”

“’Twas not a compliment.”
But it was. She very much liked being married to her Highland stallion.

And with that thought came the reason she’d gone out in search of him
that morning. She had to have her answers.

Chapter
Thirteen

Magnus’ post lovemaking drunkenness was quickly shattered when his wife hopped down from her perch on the ale barrel, placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“I must know what has happened to my father. Did you send out a scout? Have you heard from the abbot of who follows us?”

Magnus frowned. In truth, he had yet to send out scouts to find her father. Although they had received word from the abbot that whoever followed them did not stop at the abbey. They looked to be English, and there were several dozen of them. But even that the abbot could not be certain of. They could have simply been trolling the countryside. There was no telling that the group who camped outside the abbey walls was headed to Sutherland.

“I sent out a scout yestermorn,” he
stretched the truth—quite a bit—and made a mental note to do so immediately. “And the abbot did not have a chance to speak with any of those who followed us, but he suspects they are English.” He stroked her cheek, trying to take some of the ire from her stance. “Dinna be upset, lass. We shall be safe here.”

Her brow furrowed further. “I am not worried for my safety, Magnus. I am worried over whether or not my father lives. If he’s perished then there is no one to keep my sister safe. My brother is in France serving the king.”

Anguish sounded in her voice and cut to his gut.

Magnus nodded, understanding her
concern and her urgency. He would not want his sisters to be left to their own defenses either. “I will send for her.”

“You will?
How?”

“My brother Blane has many talents. Once we’ve heard from the scouts, if
’tis needed, I will have him retrieve her.”

Relief filled her features, softening them. Her hands slid from her hips. “Thank you.”

He pulled her into his embrace and awkwardly patted her back, hoping to offer her some measure of comfort.

“I must attend to something, but I shall see
ye at the nooning. Heather, Ronan and my cousins will be present and ye shall meet them all.”

Arbella leaned back and gave him a weak smile. “I should like to freshen up then.”

Magnus pressed a kiss to her forehead and then watched her leave the buttery. As soon as she was out of sight he hurried to find Gavin.

“I have an urgent mission for
ye. This must be kept quiet.”

“Aye, my lai
rd.”

“I need to find out if Arbella’s father lives. He is the Baron de Mowbray. He was at Stirling with Arbella before they were separated. Ye must hurry.”

Gavin nodded and immediately went to the stables. He trusted Gavin the most out of all of his men. He would find out for sure what happened to the baron and hopefully he’d be able to ease Arbella’s fears within a sennight or two. Until then, he intended to distract her by making love to her at every opportunity.

His body still burned from their frenzied coupling. She was a natural at making love. Although still raw in the arts, when she touched him his body cried out for more. When she kissed him, all he could think of was devouring her. And the way she rocked her hips when he dipped inside her channel… He was already growing hard again,
and wanted to rush up to their chamber and claim her once more.

Instead
, he went to his small library to read the missives that had arrived while he was gone. Once he’d lit a few tallow candles and settled into his high-backed chair, a stack of scrolls in front of him, Magnus could not concentrate on anything but the anxiety-ridden look in his wife’s eyes.

He cursed himself for not sending out word as soon as he’d promised.
For not delving further into the matter. He’d been a real cur for not looking into it. Magnus swiped a hand over his face. If she ever found out it’d taken him so long…

He shook his head. She would never find out. Gavin would return quickly and he’d relay whatever news Gavin brought.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the walls when suddenly the door banged open to reveal his brother Ronan.

Ronan could have been Magnus’ twin except for the years spanning their births.
They both had eyes as dark green as fir trees and sandy colored hair that glinted red in the light. Blane was the only brother given the dark looks of their mother’s side of the family.

“Ye swine!”
His brother’s scowl was dark as he slammed into the room.

“’Tis good to see you too
, brother.”

“How could ye have married?”

“Easily. I stood before a priest with my bride and we exchanged vows.”

“Ye’re an arse.” Ronan slumped into a chair and placed his booted feet up on Magnus’ desk. “What are ye going to do?”

“About what?” He was starting to get irritated with his brother questioning him. He was laird, and he was the eldest. He could make his own decisions. But his brother was right. Marrying Arbella would cause a bit of a problem with the Ross clan…and the English. But being reminded of his previous betrothal only brought to light the fact that he’d not sent a missive to Ross explaining what had happened and offering up one of his brothers as replacement.

Magnus sat forward and shoved his brother’s feet off the desk.

“How would ye like to find yourself in my position?”

Ronan shifted in his chair. “What are ye talking about?”

“Ina Ross is in need of a husband. Preferably a Sutherland.”

Ronan jumped from his chair and vehemently shook his head. “I will not do it. Ye made your bed brother. I will support your marriage to the English lass, but I’ll not marry Ina.” A crooked grin curved his lips. “Blane is second in line, he should have the honors.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and eyed his brother. “Mayhap we’ll have a competition to see who has the privilege.”

Ronan glared at him. “Mark my
words, I’ll not marry the wench. I’ll not marry anyone. As third son, there is no need.” He stalked to the door. “Be careful, Magnus. Women are a vengeful set.”

Ronan exited the room, leaving Magnus feeling
colder than he had before. His marriage to Arbella instead of Ina was proving to be more trouble than saving her might have been. But thinking about not marrying her only brought her shy smile and passionate cries to the forefront of his mind. They’d not been married long, but he already couldn’t picture his life without her in it.

That only made his frown deepen
.

He pushed out of his chair and stalked to the great hall for the
nooning. When he arrived, half the clan filled the room, taking up their places at the various benched tables. ’Twas loud and boisterous. He smiled. He was glad to be home.

He headed for the dais, to the cheers of his people, where his sister
Heather waited with Ronan and his cousins Laird Daniel Moray and Laird Brandon Sinclair. His youngest brother Blane had not yet returned from the wool market.

“Magnus!”
Heather said with glee, throwing her arms around him.

Heather
was only a couple years younger than his wife, but she was the youngest in the family, and he’d never seen her as anything more than a bairn. She was dark like Blane with raven hair and sapphire eyes. Their sister Lorna was fair like himself.

“Where is Arbella?” he asked
, glancing around the room. The place was decidedly vacant without her present. For a moment he worried she was overly upset about her father and had decided not to come to the nooning to meet his family. He pressed back the budding anger that such a cut would mean.

G
ood thing, since at that moment she glided into the room. She was truly magnificent. She wore her hair partway down—better than her braid. Her locks shined in glossy waves over her shoulders. He hoped soon she would wear it down all the way so he could thread his fingers through it whenever he wanted—at least when they were alone, since married women mostly wore their hair tucked up and out of the way.

He
spied his siblings admiring his wife. Ronan’s eyes widened in shock and Heather gazed with admiration. Moray and Sinclair elbowed each other and spoke quiet words. He was proud to see all of their approving glances.

“Arbella, meet my sister
, Heather, and my brother, Ronan.”

“’Tis a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said in her soft but sensual voice.

Magnus felt his breath hitch. If it weren’t for his family and clan being present he would whisk her into his arms and kiss her until she melted against him.

Heather gripped Arbella’s shoulders and pulled her in for
a hug. “The pleasure is ours. I am so glad to have a sister again. With Lorna gone, I was sorely lacking for female conversation.”

Arbella laughed.
“Aye, ‘tis quite different.”

“Do ye have a sister then?” Heather asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

Arbella flicked her gaze at Magnus, anxiety flashing for a moment in their depths. “Aye.”

“I congratulate
ye, my lady, on wedding the laird and welcome ye to Dunrobin. I am always at your service.” Ronan picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, lingering a little too long for Magnus’ tastes.

Ronan was a wild brute
, forever looking for his next conquest. Magnus would not allow him to make a conquest of his wife. He shoved Ronan’s shoulder, took his wife’s hand in his own grip and glared at his brother. The dancing merriment in Ronan’s eyes showed he’d done the act only to bait Magnus.

Damn the man! He was always testing him to the limits.

“My cousins, Laird Daniel Moray and Laird Brandon Sinclair.”

Each cousin took one of her hands and expertly copied the move Ronan had just pulled. For that, they each received a hearty clap on the back that had them choking on their laughter.

Damn his lustful cousins and the pleasure they took in seeing him seethe.

And damn his jealousy for getting the better of him.
It only proved one thing… His wife was wiggling her way quickly into his—dare he say it? No, he couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t acknowledge it at all.

With a frustrated growl, which only served to have his family members laughing
more, he turned toward the dais to take his seat.

Arbella
watched with nostalgia as Magnus ribbed his brother and cousins, even Heather joined in. They were a tight-knit family. She missed Aliah and Samuel. She missed her father even with all his overbearing brutishness. She missed home.

She stared at her hands, and only picked at the delicious dishes Cook created for her. She just didn’t have any sort of appetite. Worst of all, she was starting to regret her decision at the height of passion to allow Magnus to consummate their marriage.

It wasn’t because she didn’t like him. In fact she was…growing rather fond of him. It wasn’t for lack of liking Dunrobin and its inhabitants. Arbella simply wasn’t sure if she belonged here, and her worry over her father and sister was eating away at her insides.

She could not possibly celebrate and be happy when her father might be lying in a ditch in Stirling and A
liah was all alone in the world, expecting their father’s imminent return.