The Highlander's Reward (24 page)

The man bowed to Arbella, and she curtseyed in turn. Her gaze drifted back to the couple at the table and she suddenly wished they’d never met. In all likelihood, the two of them would stray from their allegiance, and then Clan Sutherland would be put in danger.

As Ross walked toward his daughter and out of earshot, Arbella leaned in to whisper to Magnus, “I have a bad feeling.”

“Aye.
I will have to put scouts permanently on the Ross border.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

As promised, Magnus
arranged for a great feast in honor of their marriage. He invited the whole of the clan and their allies—including his cousins Laird Daniel Moray and Laird Brandon Sinclair who’d won her over on their first meeting. The handsome bachelors had every woman from clan to clan staring after them, as did the Sutherland brothers. Much to Magnus’ chagrin, Arbella noted, Heather was turning heads as well. Her raven hair circled her head in a crown of plaits.

Arbella smiled as she observed the filled tables and happy ruckus. Even her father seemed to have made some acquaintances
who he joked and jeered with.

Platters upon platters of various steaming, fragrant dishes filled the table and Magnus had ordered the best barrels of ale and whiskey to be opened for all to partake in. Musicians played enchanting melodies, and the clan’s people danced. Even Arbella danced until her feet hurt
and her head whirled.

She didn’t think she’d ever had such a good time—well, except for when she and Magnus were alone in their chamber. Showing each other, with their bodies, just how much they loved one another was heaven in itself.

The hour grew late, and some of the merry dwellers had passed out on tables, others among the rushes.

“Magnus,” she whispered, wanting to go upstairs and have her husband all to herself.

Magnus grinned slowly, wickedly as his gaze roved over her body. “Aye?”

“Would you like to…”

“Oh, aye.” He jumped up from the table and grabbed her hand.

Arbella giggled as they hurried through the crowd of cheering revelers.

“They cheer for ye,” Magnus said.

Arbella shook her head and laughed. “I think they cheer for what we are about to do.”

As if to confirm that fact, someone shouted out a bawdy comment alluding to the act itself.

Magnus whisked her up into his arms and planted a hot kiss upon her mouth—which only made the crowd go wild.

At that moment, the sounds of revelry were interrupted by a loud knock at the great doors.

Magnus grew serious, and Arbella wondered who it could be.
Someone who’d gotten past the gate guards. He nodded to Ronan to open the door.

William Wallace took up the expanse. He waltzed into the great hall
, several of his retainers following, his arms held out to Magnus. “I hear we are celebrating your marriage.”

“Aye,” Magnus said
, pressing forward to grasp Wallace in a show of manly affection.

“
She’s quite a beauty for being English,” Wallace teased, and kissed her knuckles.

“And ye are not the coldblooded ogre I thought all Scotsmen were.” Arbella offered a coy smile.

Wallace laughed. “Well met, my lady.”

He turned back to Magnus and clapped him on the back.
“Congratulations.
Slainte mhor agus a h-uile beannachd duibh.
”

Saints above, she was still rusty at her Gaelic. Arbella raised a questioning brow to Magnus.

But Wallace was the one to answer, “Good health and every good blessing to ye, my lady!” He nudged Magnus’ elbow, “I see ye have slacked on your duty to teach the newest Scot our language.”

“Aye, he has,” Arbella laughed. “But I will learn it before the next year is out.”

“I wish ye luck, Lady Sutherland.” A clansmen thrust a cup with a dram of whiskey in it toward Wallace. The warrior faced Ronan. “Before I drink this fine dram, first, my true purpose for coming this eve was to recruit Ronan.” He turned back to Magnus. “I had no idea ye were celebrating, my lord, else I would have brought ye a gift.”

Magnus chuckled and shook his head. “Ye’ve given me enough of a gift already
when ye asked me to join ye at Stirling Bridge. I wouldna have met Arbella were it not for ye.”

Wallace curled his lips in a pleased smile,
then clasped Ronan’s shoulder. “Ye are needed. King Edward will soon be gathering troops to invade our lands once more. Word has it he killed a man upon hearing of our victory at Stirling Bridge. We’ll need time to train and plan our strategy over the winter. Come the spring, I’ve no doubt the English will be upon us in droves.”

Ronan glanced at Magnus. There was no missing the exchange of pride and excitement between the brothers. This was a huge opportunity for Ronan to shine, to show his military and leadership prowess, but Arbella could not help the tingle of fear that snaked its way up her spine. King Edward had been brutal before. With the Scottish victory he was likely to
increase his brutality tenfold.

She shivered, wanting
to tell Ronan to stay behind, but kept her opinion to herself.

“I will depart with
ye in the morning.” Ronan clasped Wallace’s arm. “Whiskey for Wallace!”

The room erupted in cheers once more.

Magnus and Arbella’s gazes met. She nodded, and he took her by the hand, silently escaping the crowd which had once more been roused by the arrival of Wallace and his men.

Once inside their chamber, Magnus stoked the brazier until it popped and
an inviting warmth curled from within.

“I am worried for Ronan,” she said, taking off her slippers.

“Dinna worry for him. He’s a skilled warrior.”

“I know, but
’tis dangerous. King Edward will not be gentle with the rebels.”

Magnus nodded. “Ronan will not be gentle in return.”

“I shall pray for him.”

“As we all shall.” Magnus pulled off his boots and tossed them a few feet away.

Arbella curbed her itch to pick them up and set them neatly within his wardrobe. But soon she no longer cared about his messy boots. He stood before her and slowly unpinned his plaid. He lifted his
leine
shirt over his head and tossed that too. She only had eyes for the muscled chest and sculpted form he displayed to her. She ran her fingers over the ridges. His flesh was hot, searing her fingertips and she hissed in a breath.

“God, I love
ye,” Magnus said. He circled his hands around her waist, but instead of pulling her close he untied the laces of her gown and lifted it over her head. He didn’t waste time removing her shift. “I’ll never get enough of looking at ye.”

His gaze hungrily roved over her body, his hands touching and stroking along the way.

Arbella tugged at his belt until it came unclasped and his plaid fell in a pool at their feet. She needed to feel his warmth against her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her face on his chest.

“I love you, too.”

They stood that way for several moments, just breathing in the scent of each other, holding each other. ’Twas peaceful, calm.

Arbella shivered.

“Are ye cold?” Magnus asked, stepping away, perhaps towards the brazier to stoke it once more.

A
rbella pulled him back. “I am not cold, Magnus. The only warmth I need is you.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she grasped his face in her hands and guided him down for a kiss.

She whimpered as he quickly took control of their kiss, his tongue demanding entry. She opened willingly, needing the contact as much as he did. Their hands stroked softly over one another’s bodies, until they both panted,
demanding more.

Magnus lifted her into the air, one hand beneath her knees and the other around her back. He took her to their overly large bed and planted her in the center, quickly covering her shivering length with his own.

Arbella parted her legs, wrapping them high on Magnus’ hips, gasping as his hardened length pulsed against her slick opening.

He groaned, nipping at her ear and searing a path of hot kisses along the column of her throat. He paid homage to her breasts, plucking each nipple into a turgid peak and then stoking her fire higher by suckling and teasing her sensitive flesh until she writhed beneath him.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Arbella reached between them and grasped his length in her palm. She guided his shaft toward her opening, lifting her hips at the same time. As soon as the tip touched her center, slipping inside an inch, she moved her hand and Magnus drove swiftly home.

“Och, lass, ye drive me mad with wanting.”

“Yes, Magnus, yes,” she panted.

He quickened his pace, this no longer about stoking fires, but building an inferno. The bed rocked from the force of his thrusts, and Arbella cared not if anyone heard their shouts of ecstasy. In this moment, this bed, this room, they were the only two left in the world.

She clutched his hips with her thighs, raked her nails down his back, licked and kissed the whiskered skin of his neck. She was no longer in control of her own body, her pleasure had taken over.

Moments later as Magnus continued to plunge deep within her, her world shattered into a million shining stars. She cried out in delirious pleasure, her limbs shaking, her core rapidly quivering.

Magnus accelerated and deepened his thrusts until he too stiffened and then shuddered above her, crying out her name.

They collapsed on the bed, their skin slick with sweat from their exertions, their bodies satiated.

Arbella swirled a finger over Magnus’ chest, threw her leg over his thigh. This was sweet decadence, lying here in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Joy filled her and a sense of peace. He pulled her close, settling her head on the crook of his shoulder as he stroked her back and hip. She kissed his shoulder, feeling lethargic and still a bit tingly.

“Thank you, Magnus.”

“For what?”

“For showing me that not all Scots are barbarians.”

He chuckled. “And thank ye for showing me not all Englishwomen are cold termagants.”

When they woke the following morning, everything felt right in the world.
The sun sent prisms of light throughout their room through the slitted windows. Arbella felt safe in the cocoon of Magnus’ warmth and that of their blankets. She stretched her arms up, wiggled her toes and smiled up at the green canopy.

Yes, everything was most definitely right in the world.

Except Arbella’s stomach roiled.

She turned onto her side, curling into a ball, and tried to
breathe in slowly and deeply as Glenda had shown her when she was a child with some illness or other. She must have drunk too much ale and the dram of whiskey she’d sipped had put her over the edge. But thinking back on it, she’d only sipped and not finished the whiskey, and the ale… She couldn’t recall imbibing too much. She was so busy dancing and singing and staring at her handsome husband.

Yet her stomach churned, and burned the back of her throat.

She rushed from the bed and tossed up her accounts into the chamber pot—which was thankfully empty.

She glanced up in time to see
Magnus roll over and gaze at her. He threw his sculpted leg over the covers and leaned up on an elbow to look down at her. He narrowed his eyes in concern and frowned.

“Are ye all right
, lass?”

She stood and went to the wash basin, rinsing her face
with the ice cold water. The floor was cold beneath her feet, the embers of their brazier having long since died out. Miraculously she felt better.