When a Warrior Woos a Lass Read online

  Greer gave her a wry look. “I see ye ken about Archibald MacLean.”

  “Oh aye,” Lena said, grimness settling into her thoughts of Alex’s cousin, who’d plotted with the English in hopes of taking the MacLean lairdship from Alex. Archibald’s aspirations had almost cost Lena’s brother Graham his life.

  “Well,” Greer said, drawing the word out as if she were now reluctant to admit the rest of the tale, “when Archibald’s treachery was discovered, the laird questioned my brother to see if he kenned anything about it.”

  “Did he?” Lena demanded, finding herself angry.

  Greer shrugged. “I have my suspicions,” she said, “but I dunnae have proof, except for the fact that my brother and Archibald had shared long talks into the wee hours of the morning many a time. I suppose yer husband could nae decide my brother’s guilt for certain so he spared his life but stripped him of his status as a warrior.”

  “I see,” Lena said evenly, understanding fully now why the women kept their distance from Greer and why Lara might think that Alex would not want her befriending the woman. But if Alex had allowed the man to remain at Duart, he must not consider him a threat, unless he kept him here to watch him. Either way, it was not Greer’s fault that her brother might have been conspiring with Archibald, and Lena could not see how it was right, nor fair, to shun her because of it. The woman obviously needed a friend and quite possibly help.

  “Ye dunnae have to remain, my lady. I’ll nae shed buckets of tears if ye depart my company without a backward glance, so dunnae fash yerself.”

  At that moment, the door to the kitchens opened with a bang, and a tall, burly man with a wild, black beard and black hair strode into the room. “Greer!” he bellowed, thumping through the room, not halting until he came to stand before Lena and Greer.

  Lena automatically wrinkled her nose at the man’s stench. He reeked of horse manure. “My nooning meal is nae on our table,” he said, his sharp voice grating across Lena’s ears.

  A momentary flash of irritation appeared in Greer’s eyes, but when the man narrowed his upon her, Greer became meek in front of Lena. “I’m sorry, Brother,” she said, indicating Lena. “I was speaking with the laird’s wife and forgot the time.”

  The man turned his ferocious gaze on Lena. He raked it over Lena’s body before a hard look settled on his face. “I see the laird has done well for himself,” the man said, bitterness suffusing his tone.

  Lena stiffened but raised her chin, feeling emboldened. “If ye’re nae happy under my husband’s care, ye are always free to leave.”

  Derision etched Greer’s brother’s features. “I’m about as free as ye are,” he snapped.

  “Hamish!” Greer gasped.

  The man raised his hand as if to strike his sister, making Lena’s heartbeat speed up, but he darted his gaze to Lena, tugged his hand through his hair, and focusing on his sister once more he said, “Bring food for me and Baldwin now!”

  Baldwin! Lena pictured the young apprentice she’d met on the ship. So this crude man was his father? No wonder the boy had spoken as he had.

  Greer bobbed her head in understanding and scurried to do her brother’s bidding as he stomped his way out of the kitchens past the grim faces of the kitchen ladies. The minute the door shut, chattering erupted. But none of the women made an effort to talk with Greer.

  Lena went to her side as Greer busily put food on a platter. “Greer,” she said in a low voice, “I’d like to help.”

  As Greer hefted the platter onto her hip, she slowly turned toward Lena. “How do ye believe ye can aid me?” she demanded.

  Lena refused to let the woman’s contemptuous tone put her off. She recalled well when she was being abused feeling as if no one could help or even understand. “I could speak with Alex about yer brother’s abuse of ye.”

  “I never said my brother abused me!” Greer snapped.

  “Ye did nae have to say it,” Lena said, lowering her voice even further. She was making a great presumption with what she was about to say, but she was sure she was correct. “I recognize the signs because of the abuse I endured from my late husband.”

  Greer looked uneasily around the room before shoving her tray to the side and moving closer to Lena. “Please,” she said, a desperate urgency in her voice. “Mind yer own life and stay out of mine. Ye dunnae ken truly what ye are poking at.” Turning sharply away so that her skirts swished against Lena’s legs, Greer departed.

  Once she was gone, Marsaili came to her side. “I recognize that look,” she said quietly.

  Lena raised her eyebrows. “Aye?”

  Marsaili nodded. “’Tis the same one ye gave me a bit ago when ye were determined to aid me somehow.”

  Lena nodded absently, even as her mind turned about how to proceed. She wanted to say something to Alex in regard to both women, but the timing was not right yet. Now, she supposed, her husband had his secrets and she had hers.

  Eleven

  Alex could not decide whether he was wearier or more irritated as he washed up for supper, but when he was finished and Lara stopped him to sing Lena’s praises to him for how very bold Lena had been in the kitchens today with Hamish, Alex concluded that irritation had won. Lara was the sixth woman to tell him of his wife’s behavior today, and though he was pleased she was shedding her fear, it was foolish and dangerous to become too brazen. His task was to protect her, and if she went about challenging all the men who were unhappy with him, she might come across a rash man who would hurt her.

  Alex dried off as he thought on Hamish. He’d allowed the man to stay at Duart because he’d not had definitive proof that Hamish had known of Archibald’s plans and Alex was not one to condemn any man on suspicion. He knew well that Hamish had grown angry and resentful at having been demoted from one of his guards to the stables, and he’d been waiting for the man’s anger to cool to see if Hamish would settle in to his new life or if Alex indeed needed to send the man away from Duart. He’d hesitated to banish him because of the man’s sister and Baldwin. They’d both suffered for what many perceived as Hamish’s betrayal, and Alex knew if he banished the man, Hamish would force the lass and lad to join him in banishment.

  Alex could offer to find a husband for the lass, but Baldwin would have to depart as his father saw fit, and Alex had seen the closeness between the lass and her nephew. And besides that, Baldwin was a good lad. Greer was like a mother to Baldwin since he’d lost his own, which was why, even though he’d not seen the change he had wished for, he had hesitated to ban Hamish. Alex donned his plaid and made his way to the great hall, determined to outline very clear rules to his blossoming wife. Yet, when he entered the room and saw her standing with Donald, her head thrown back in laughter and her hand actually resting on Donald’s arm, Alex’s steps faltered. Instead of marching over to confront her and give her dictates meant to protect her from all harm, he found himself standing still and staring.

  She had on a blue gown he’d not seen before, and it complemented her body in a way that stirred his blood to a boil. He had a sudden desire to stride over to her, snatch her up like a bag of wheat, and toss her over his shoulder to take her to her bedchamber where they could enjoy each other until they were both spent and near sleep. His very temporary good mood vanished in a breath, however, and frustration settled like an unshakable winter cough in his chest. He could enjoy her, and she him, but he could not give her what she wanted, what he was certain she needed. He could not hold her in her sleep and make her feel safe because he himself was a threat to her.

  He clenched his teeth on a spurt of anger. He may not be able to protect her in her sleep, but he was damned sure going to do so when they were both awake. With that purpose in mind, he marched over to her. “Lena.” Her name came out as a growl, making him wince.

  Donald gaped at him, and the man’s obvious disapproval did nothing to improve Alex’s worsening mood, originally brought on by that clot-heid Fardley’s inability to improve at all today. If the man
kept up his training with the same lack of advancement as he had today, they would both be gaunt in less than a sennight. One meal a day was not enough to sustain a man.

  “Aye, my laird?” Lena asked, her words perfectly proper but her tone challenging. Damned if her show of strength did not make him want to grin, but he dared not. He wanted her to be bold but not so much so that she endangered herself. It was a hard line to traverse, indeed.

  “A word, if ye please, Wife.” He gave Donald a look, intending to convey that the man should leave, but he just crossed his arms over his chest as his mouth pulled into an amused smile.

  “The training with Fardley certainly lasted all day,” Donald said in a pleasant, poking tone.

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “Aye. The man is nae quick to learn from his mistakes. We’ll be at it again on the morrow.”

  Donald chuckled. “That explains yer sour mood.”

  “Amongst other things,” Alex admitted, holding Lena’s probing gaze. “Dunnae ye have somewhere pressing to be, Donald?”

  “Och, nay,” the man responded, making Alex want to throttle him.

  Alex’s patience snapped. “Be gone,” he growled, to which Donald complied with a hearty laugh.

  Lena scowled at Alex, and when they were alone, she set her hands to her hips. “That was verra rude of ye.”

  “Nay, it was deliberately insolent of Donald. He kenned I wished him to depart.”

  “Perchance I did nae wish it,” she retorted. “Ye did actually interrupt my conversation with him.”

  “And what, pray tell, were the two of ye conversing about that so amused ye?” he asked, sliding a finger down the expanse of exposed flesh on her arm.

  She shivered but said, “Ye as a lad. He was telling me stories of the mischief ye found yerself in the midst of. Like the time ye wanted to see what would happen if ye stuck yer hand inside a hornet nest.”

  Alex seized on his opportunity to use his own foolishness to warn her gently. “Oh aye. That was nae wise. My hand was swollen for so long that I almost lost the use of my fingers.”

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Donald did nae tell me that part.”

  Looking around, he found most of his clan now seated, and many staring at him and Lena. With a flourish of his hand, he bid them, “By all means, commence supper.” He then took Lena by the elbow and led her just outside the door to the great hall, wishing for discretion. Once the door closed, he spoke. “I was a bold lad, aye, but foolish. It took me some years to learn when to be bold and when to be careful.”

  Lena snorted and gave him a disbelieving look. “As far as I’ve seen since my return to my family, ye are always bold.”

  “I make it look so, Lena,” he said. “But I always weigh the risk of injury, and I ken well when to seek aid. And I dunnae need aid now.”

  She frowned. “What do ye mean? Aid with what?”

  He rolled his shoulders, seeking to ease his tension while also taking a moment to find the best words so he would not anger his wife, yet he would let her know he expected her not to engage in arguments on his behalf. “I dunnae need ye to defend me against men who are vexed with me.”

  Her mouth parted, then settled into a grim line. “I see the kitchen ladies have been gossiping about this afternoon.”

  “Singing yer praises is more like it,” he said.

  She scowled. “They may have made it sound that way to ye, but they were gossiping.”

  He sighed. “I’ll nae argue that point. Wife. I ken well that Hamish is vexed with the lot I have given him, but I have control of Hamish.”

  “Do ye?” she challenged, arching her brows high.

  “Aye, I do,” he snapped, not liking her tone. He needed absolute control and authority. That’s how he had led his life since the day Gillis had stripped Alex of his control. It was how he managed his ghosts in the daytime, and he could not abide less than that.

  A peeved look settled on Lena’s face. “How exactly do ye have control of Hamish?” she demanded.

  “I am watching him to see if he accepts his place in the clan now.”

  “Then ye are nae watching carefully enough,” she bit out. Her face immediately softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. His anger had spiked, but at her touch, it vanished with a breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, the edge in her voice gone. “I dunnae mean to quarrel.”

  He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close until they were pressed together chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Her softness and smell enticed him like nothing he’d ever known. “I dunnae wish to quarrel, either,” he said, unable to resist brushing her hair away from her neck and placing what was supposed to be a chaste kiss there, but when she gave a little mewling sigh of pleasure, he lifted her off her feet and drew her into a dark corner under the stairs to deepen the kiss. Never had he abandoned the leashed restraint he maintained over himself in the daytime. Women had always been for dark, nightly pleasures, but the pleasure Lena brought to him burned bright like a torch to light his way. He wanted to take her and wrap himself around her, hold her tight, and never release her. She made his control disappear and his heart thud painfully against his ribs. It was both exhilarating and troubling. He could not forget the limits of what he could give.

  Still, in this moment, with sleep now very far from his mind, he desired to feast on his wife instead of food. “Lena?”

  “Aye,” she replied, her voice husky. “Let us forget supper and go to my bedchamber.”

  “Ye kenned my thoughts before I voiced them,” he replied, his body already strumming with anticipation of joining with his wife.

  She chuckled. “’Twas nae hard. Yer yearning for me is clear on yer face.”

  He took Lena’s hand in his. As he led her out from under the steps and up the staircase, he said, “And this dunnae cause fear in ye any longer, aye?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “Nae fear. Yer desire pleases me.”

  “Excellent,” he said, impatience to strip his wife naked bursting within him. He stopped, slid an arm under her legs, laughing when she yelped, and swooped her up into his hold. She nestled against his chest. “Ye will be dying with pleasure verra soon, Wife.”

  “Oh, ye’re a brute!” she said with a hearty laugh. “We’ll be the gossip of Duart.”

  He nodded as he saw a servant at the top of the stairs pause as she descended, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I certainly hope so. I rather like the thought of the servants and my clan gossiping about how much I desire ye.”

  “Alex,” Lena hissed, tapping him on the chest rapidly. “Put me down! Dunnae ye see the servant.”

  “Aye, Wife. I’d be blind if I did nae,” he said. The servant was so close now that she likely had heard Lena’s question and Alex’s reply.

  “My lord. My lady,” the servant said, bobbing a curtsy.

  Alex stole a glance at Lena, amused to see her cheeks splotchy with color. He should take mercy on her, but…

  “I twisted my ankle,” Lena blurted to the servant.

  Alex chuckled. “My wife lies. She was desperate to have me alone as quickly as possible. Insisted I carry her, she did.”

  Lena narrowed her eyes at him, but he ferreted her past the servant before she could reply.

  “Ye really are incorrigible!” she said, as he entered her bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him.

  “Aye,” he agreed, feeling altogether happy that they could share such a carefree moment. “Ye bring it out in me,” he admitted. “’Tis been years since I’ve felt so light at heart.”

  She placed her hand on his chest and stroked him. “I want to bring something else out in ye, as well,” she teased, her voice a sultry caress.

  “What’s that?” he asked, brushing kisses down her neck and enjoying the way she quivered at his touch.

  “Last night, when we were together,” she said, her words stilted at first but growing smoother and stronger as she spoke. “I ken ye were holding back, being careful and gentle for me.” Her gaze came to his, and
he could see an entreaty in the depths of her eyes. “I’m so grateful for how ye have treated me with such care since we were married, and really even before that, but I dunnae wish ye to leash yer desires with me in the bed tonight, Husband. I want ye to release the restraint ye have put on yerself.”

  The notion of taking her in all the ways he could conjure made him grow rigid everywhere and filled him with gladness that none of the ways he conjured involved the need to be in control as they always had with other women. Still, he was afraid the intensity of his passion for her might scare her. “I believe if I released all my restraints and took ye in the thousands of ways I can imagine, ye’d run from the room.”

  “I will nae,” she insisted. “I’m nae afraid of ye or yer touch.”

  “Ye’d think me barbaric,” he assured her.

  A devilish smile tugged at her lips. “With ye, I rather like barbaric.”

  Perchance it was the blatant look of desire she gave him, or the way her tongue darted out of her mouth to wet first her full upper lip and then her lower, or it could have been the light touch of the fingertips she had slipped under his kilt. He was not sure which, maybe one or all three, but his hold on his restraint faltered. Claiming her lips, he crushed her to him. He wanted to drink in her smell, her taste, the very essence of her. He explored her mouth with his tongue, not having to demand anything because she gave before he could ask. Their tongues swirled and retreated before coming together again. He only broke the kiss to toss her gently on the bed. He swiftly removed his clothing, his yearning consuming him as he watched her tug off her gown and bare herself to him, no longer trying to cover herself as she had done previously.

  “Ye’re a miracle,” he whispered with reverence, meaning it to the depths of his soul. She was his miracle to protect and treasure.

  She opened her arms wide and beckoned him to her. When he slid his arms around her and splayed his hands over her back, she kissed his collarbone, his neck, and finally his lips. “And ye are my miracle,” she said. “Now show me yer deepest desires.”