When a Warrior Woos a Lass Page 10

  Broch reached Lena before Alex was even halfway across the room. The man must have been watching her, as Alex should have been. Broch shoved Fardley back and reached for Lena, but she threw up her arms as if she expected Broch to strike her. Even with the distance that still separated them, her cry of horror speared Alex in the heart. His body jerked reflexively, her pain completely his.

  “Dance, dance,” he encouraged as he strode past his clansmen, wanting to protect his wife from the numerous stares. Even if his people had wanted to stand and watch the scene unfolding, they knew better.

  He got to her just as Broch reached for her again, and she hissed while scampering farther back until she knocked into Marsaili, who had come up behind her.

  “Lena!” Alex and Marsaili said at the same time. Lena raised her hands as if to pummel anyone who dared to come near. Her head snapped in Alex’s direction, and Lena blinked once, twice, and then she came back to the moment. He knew it by the way her face flamed and her gaze darted around her. Her eyes locked on Fardley, whose color drained from his face.

  “My lady, I did nae realize…”

  Alex’s gut wrenched as Lena blink back tears. Her lips trembled slightly, and as she raised her hands to straighten her hair, they shook. “I beg ye,” she said, her voice hushed and laden with shame, “the next time I ask ye to release me, please do so.”

  Anger choked Alex that his man would have disobeyed Lena’s plea. “My wife,” Alex growled, “should but have to give ye a look, and ye obey it. Meet me at the shore when the sun breaks. Bring yer sword and naught else. Ye shall learn to obey a command, or I’ve nary a use for ye as one of my warriors.”

  “Alex!” Lena gasped, but he shook his head at her. He’d never want to deny her anything she desired. The realization was both a shocking burden and a welcome blessing that he could feel so much for this woman to whom he had only been wed a fortnight earlier. The connection between them was palpable to him, but in her plea for mercy—for he knew that’s what she was going to voice—he had to deny her. Fardley had failed to truly see what was happening and assess accurately how he should act. Alex had to have warriors that saw all, understood all, and reacted instinctually to the information they took in. That was the only sort of warrior worthy to guard his wife and, with God’s blessing, the children they would have someday.

  “Aye, Laird,” Fardley responded with a jerk of his head before moving to depart the great hall. Around them, the noise of the great hall rose to a dull roar, and Alex imagined much of the conversation swirled around Lena and Fardley.

  “I’m sorry,” Lena said. The tautness and shame in her tone brought Alex’s attention back to his wife and away from watching Fardley’s progress toward the door. Alex had wanted to ensure the man was not such a clot-heid as to stop to tell anyone what had occurred. Alex frowned with the realization that Lena had moved close to Broch. She stared at Alex with sorrowful eyes. “I’ll go to the bedchamber.”

  “I’ll attend to her safety,” Broch said.

  “Nay,” Alex clipped. He stared hard at Broch, wanting to ensure the man understood how things would be from this moment forward. “I ken Iain sent ye with Lena to watch over her, but as long as I am near, I’ll be defending my wife. If I’ve need of ye,” he said, even as he could tell Broch wanted to argue, “I’ll tell ye.”

  “I dunnae wish to make ye leave the celebration,” Lena said quietly.

  Alex stepped toward his wife and took her hand, relieved that she did not try to pull away. He guided her a short distance away from Broch and Marsaili before he leaned close and whispered in her hear, “I told ye before, lass, there will nae ever be a place I’m needed more than by yer side. I dunnae think ye truly kenned me, so I will try to be clearer. There is nae anywhere I’d rather be than by yer side. I wish to accompany ye to our bedchamber, unless ye dunnae wish it.”

  “But I shamed ye and myself,” she said, her astonishment evident on her face.

  He burned with anger, imagining what sort of torment of the mind and body she had lived through to believe her vulnerability was shameful. He cupped her cheek, and when she pressed her cheek against his hand, he brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips. “Nay, lass. Ye dunnae shame yerself or me. Ye are strong, and ye grow stronger every day. Pride and awe swell in my chest when I consider what ye have overcome. Will ye depart with me now to our bedchamber?” He did not voice his deepest desire—that she become his wife in full—but he was certain she knew.

  She nodded. “Aye. There is nae anywhere I’d rather be.”

  He led her out of the great hall, making sure to shield her as best he could from his people’s stares. Most of his clansmen looked quickly away with a simple glare from him, but there were a few whose gazes lingered longer than Alex liked. Those men and women would answer to him tomorrow, and he would ensure they did nothing to make Lena feel more uncomfortable or embarrassed than she already did.

  His desire for his wife mounted with each step he took toward her bedchamber, but he leashed the need and pulled it back, fearful of scaring her. He would be gentle and slow—two things he had never been in the bedchamber before. He’d never wanted tenderness, but with her, he craved it.

  After leading her into the bedchamber, he closed the door with a soft click and then turned to look at her. Her hands were tangled together at her stomach, and she was worrying her lip. Yanking his yearning back even further, he strode past her to the table on the far wall under the window and picked up the jug of wine he’d had a servant put there earlier. He’d thought Lena might need a bit of wine to ease her nerves tonight, and he saw now that his notion had been correct. Once he poured them each a glass, he closed the distance between them and offered one to her, making sure his fingers caressed her. Her gaze went straight to where they had touched.

  He slid his forefinger over the back of her hand once more. “I love the feel of yer silky skin,” he admitted.

  Her lips tugged into a smirk as she curled her hands around her wine goblet. “Dunnae try to convince me ye’ve nae ever felt a woman’s soft skin before.”

  “Of course I have,” he replied solemnly, raising his hand to run it down the slope of her cheek. “But I vow to ye it was nae ever the same.”

  “Hmph,” she said, a doubtful look on her face.

  He chuckled. He understood why she might not believe him. He could hardly comprehend himself what had blocked his mind from ever truly drinking a woman in, body and soul, except that mayhap he’d needed one particular woman. He stood soaking in all the details that made up his wife, from her russet hair to her dainty feet.

  Propelled by a burning wish to know all of her, he motioned to the bed. “Sit with me?”

  She frowned. “Is this how a seduction starts?”

  Her innocent question hit him hard. She’d never experienced passion, and she equated seduction with passion. Seduction, as he had always practiced it, was for the sole purpose of fulfilling a primitive raw need. This was different. He didn’t want to simply sate his lust with Lena.

  “Nae a seduction,” he said, his voice a low growl. “This is how a wooing starts.” He led her to the bed and pressed her gently to sit. But he did not sit beside her. He kneeled in front of her and removed one of her slippers and then the other. Her feet were narrow and perfectly formed, just like she was.

  “I want to ken ye,” he said roughly as he looked up at her to find her gazing back at him. “I want to ken ye as I have nae ever kenned a woman. Will ye let me?”

  “Why me?” she whispered.

  “I dunnae exactly ken the why of it,” he answered honestly. “But a pull to ye was there the moment I first saw ye upon yer return to yer family, and I did nae even realize it had grown so much stronger.” He set his hands to her ankles and stilled when she stiffened. He kept his gaze locked with hers to give her time to become accustomed to his touch, and he spoke to her. “Ye have endured so much, yet ye did nae break.” He slid his hands up under her skirts to her calves. She in
haled a sharp breath but did not shove him away. His blood thickened, and his heart began to pound a hard beat. “Ye feel ye are weak, and I want to show ye that ye are strong. I want to show ye the beauty of what can lie between a man and a woman.”

  Christ, he wanted to discover it himself.

  His words and the understanding they brought him left him reeling. The scars he carried had made him feel dirty and unworthy, so he’d created encounters that preserved that notion. But when he looked at Lena and thought about what she had been through, he knew she was worthy and pure. Lena gave him hope for himself, something he had not dared to have since the day he had left Gillis Stewart dead on his stable floor. Alex could not bring himself to share that, but…

  “I want to show ye the beauty because I need desperately to see that it’s there,” he admitted, exposing himself in a way he had never done before.

  Lena was astonished at his words and the feeling of freedom they swiftly brought her. His honesty took away much of her fear. “Show me,” she whispered. She leaned over and delved her hands into his thick hair. She clutched at him, feeling almost euphoric at how it did not make her shake. Her heart sped up, but only in anticipation.

  She thought she saw a satisfied light come into his eyes, but she had trouble keeping her concentration as he skimmed his hands ever so softly up each side of her thighs. Her body tingled wherever he touched her. He slowly raised her skirts and feathered reverent kisses along her thighs and all the way down her legs. A tremor coursed through her at the care he was taking, the anticipation growing within her.

  When he raised up on his knees and said, “May I remove yer clothes?” she had to swallow back a cry of happiness and nod instead. He took her hands in his and helped her to stand, then slid her gown over her shoulders, down her arms, and over her hips before letting it drop to a puddle at her feet. He guided her to step out of her gown, so he could scoop it up and tossed it out of the way. She instinctually crossed her arms over her chest, glad for the shadowy darkness of the room.

  “Nay, lass,” he commanded, his rich voice gliding over her. He took her by the wrists and moved her arms to her sides. She felt exposed and raw, aware of the scars Findlay had left on her body. Could Alex see them? As if he could read her innermost thoughts, he strode past her to the window and shoved back the covering, allowing moonlight to stream into the room.

  He came to stand before her, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. His gaze softened as he brought his finger to her belly and traced it over one of her scars. “Mo chailin chalma.”

  He slid his finger over another scar and another, repeating the same words each time until the Gaelic refrain, my brave one, filled her heart and her head, and she began to think of herself as brave and not timid. He touched her legs, her back, and her stomach, and then took her face in his hands.

  “Ye make me ache when I look upon ye,” he said. “Nae ever have I seen such beauty.”

  “I could love ye,” she blurted, overcome by emotions so strong she wanted to weep.

  “Then love me,” he invited in a husky whisper that fell to silence as his mouth sealed over hers. The warmth of his kiss curled her toes, and as the kiss went from gentle to more demanding, the blood in her veins heated and rushed to her head, her heart, and lower, making desire blossom. She trailed her hands over his hard chest to find a place to slip her hands inside his clothing. The contact of her fingers on his bare, hot skin made her gasp. He looked at her questioningly, and she knew, without a doubt, that it would take but a word from her and he would cease this.

  Gratitude made her shake as she fumbled to disrobe him. He aided her when she could not reach high enough to remove his plaid, and when his plaid and léine fell to the ground, she stilled and stepped back to admire her husband. Taut muscle and sharp planes defined his abs and chest. His legs and arms were thick and corded with a light dusting of hair upon them. She allowed her gaze to skim down his legs to his thighs and the proof of his desire for her. Her loins tightened, even as worry tried to slip into her mind. She shoved at the demons, determined to keep them away, to put the past behind her.

  “Show me the beauty, Alex,” she begged him.

  He nodded, reaching for her and tugging her to him. Their bodies collided, leaving no doubt about the strength he possessed. He kissed her deeply then, seeming to sense the fear that was trying to ebb its way into her mind, and he banished it with each swirl of his tongue around hers. When he pulled back, the look of utter need and possession he gave her stole her breath. She could do no more than stand there with her heart hammering as he traced her collarbone, then slid his hand down her chest between her breasts and low on her belly. He stroked her skin for a moment before bringing both hands to her breasts again and slowly circling each of her nipples with his fingers. The pleasure that sparked through her was astonishing in its intensity. Before she knew what was happening, her legs were trembling and she was thrashing her head as his fingers circled her nipples faster and harder in an almost frenzied motion.

  “I need more!” she gasped, almost clawing at his head in an effort to bring his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her hard, demanding, and then he broke the kiss and took her nipple in his mouth. The way he pulled her into him sent spirals of pleasure through her body and made her knees give way. She grabbed at his shoulder to steady herself, but there was no need. He swooped an arm under her legs and brought her briefly to his chest before laying her back on the bed. He came swiftly over her, his thighs on either side of hers, his arms locked beside each of hers, and his burning gaze devouring her.

  “Nae ever have I felt such things,” he said fiercely, making her heart squeeze.

  She slipped her arm out of the cage he’d made with his body and pressed her fingers to his lips. He had demons, but he’d not tell her of them, but he offered her much, told her much, with words like the ones he had just uttered. That would do, for now. If she was going to give all to him, she wanted all in return, but she’d work on getting that, just as she suspected he’d been working on bringing her to this moment.

  “Let us become new together,” she offered, sensing he needed that just as much as she did.

  His answer was to cover her mouth hungrily with his. She gave herself freely to the passion of his kiss, overjoyed that she could. He placed intimate kisses on her neck, her chest, and her belly. When his hands slid up her thighs and he began to gently part them, a moment of remembered fear grabbed hold of her and she tried to lock her legs together. He stilled his movements and found her gaze with his tender, questioning one. “I will stop if ye wish it. I would nae do anything that ye dunnae wish. But I vow to ye, if ye will trust me, ye will ken only pleasure and nae ever pain.”

  She took a sharp, fortifying breath, bringing her hands to his taut back and curling her fingers into his flesh to anchor her mind with his strength. “I trust ye,” she murmured and forced herself to open her legs.

  Slowly, he lowered himself between them and then showed her such exquisite pleasure that she cried out and moaned at the exploding, fiery sensations his tongue coaxed from her. “I kinnae take more,” she panted, but even as the words left her mouth, he rose, slipped his hands under her buttocks, and entered her with care and tenderness. The shock of having him inside her stilled her, but before her mind could go anywhere dark, he began to move, gently stroking her with his body until together they found a pace that made them as one. She melted into him, her world only as big as him at the moment, but it was all she needed. He was exactly what she needed.

  As he ratcheted the desire in her to greater heights, her impatience took hold, and she pressed her hands to his buttocks. “Faster,” she demanded, and he complied, making all her muscles tighten around him.

  Ecstasy poured over her like warm honey, and it shattered the hard shell she had so carefully built around her. And just as she turned to liquid in his arms, he tensed, the entire length of his body hardening as he growled and his hot seed rushed into her. Tears tri
ckled out of her eyes and rolled warmly down her cheeks. Alex flipped onto his back and brought her into the crook of his arm, pressing her to his chest, and she hastened to swipe the tears away, but he brushed back her hands and kissed her tears instead.

  “From this day forward, only tears of joy in our bed, aye?”

  “Aye,” she promised, warmth flooding her heart. They lay there in silence, each absorbing what had happened in their own way, Lena supposed. After a long while, when her breathing and heartbeat had returned to normal, a desire sparked inside her: she wanted to touch Alex as he had her. She wanted to explore her husband’s body and learn every part of him. She slid her hand up his chest, over his shoulder, and to his back, caressing him. When her fingers brushed over uneven skin, she frowned.

  She went to trace her finger over the skin, but Alex rolled to her at the same time he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “’Tis nae anything,” he said, answering a question she’d not even voiced yet. Scowling, because she knew an evasive, preemptory answer when she heard one, she sat up and peered over his shoulder A multitude of scars marred his back.

  “Alex!” she cried out, astonished. She reached out to touch one of them, but he was off the bed and standing before she’d gotten close enough. The man was quick.

  “’Tis an old scar,” he said, his words gruff. “Dunnae fash yerself about it.”

  “It’s more than one scar,” she retorted, shocked and amazed at her audacity to speak to her husband that way. But he made her feel she could. He was making her fall in love with him, and she’d be damned if she was going to give her heart to a man who hid himself from her. Yet, saying that to the stubborn Scot would likely make him close himself to her further.

  He shrugged. “I was lashed as an apprentice. ’Tis a common practice.”

  Was it? She hardly knew. She had not been at Dunvegan when her brothers had gone off to be apprenticed, and if there were apprentices at Dunvegan currently, she’d been so trapped in her own misery while there that she had not noticed. Still, she could not imagine her brothers lashing any man, let alone a young lad. Iain detested punishing others, as did all her brothers. Yet, she had seen Findlay and his father lash men. Alex must have apprenticed with someone horrid.