by Maya Banks
But he went completely still when she touched his chin. It was just a simple touch, but it was if he’d been pressed by a hot brand. Warmth traveled down his body, alleviating the cold numb that had begun to set in.
Her lips worked up and down almost as if she were trying to say something, but then she clamped them shut and instead gave him a sad look that could only be interpreted as an apology.
Then to his utter shock, she wrapped her arms around his neck to give herself leverage, and she lifted herself out of the water just enough that she could press her lips to his.
Several things happened at once.
Her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples were hard and puckered from the cold, and he could feel the imprint on his skin. Her lips melted over his, warm and soft, and he was suddenly as heated as a man who’d been baked in the sun on the hottest summer day.
Ah but the lass was sweet. The sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted.
He gave in to the sinful urge to possess that delectable mouth and he returned her kiss in full measure. His tongue stroked over her lips, coaxing and enticing her to let him in.
She gave a breathy sigh and parted her mouth, allowing his tongue to push inside.
He liked kissing. Many a man didn’t have much patience for it. His men jested about kissing being a waste of time and was only for wooing the unwilling lasses. But if a lass was willing, they’d much rather move to the more rudimentary elements of coupling.
But to Graeme, kissing was almost as intimate as the act of lovemaking itself. It wasn’t something to be hurried or to be offered as a token to woo a reluctant lass. It was an expression of regard.
Eveline tentatively stroked her tongue over his. One quick brush against the tip of his and then she retreated, but as he deepened the kiss, she came back and soon she was exploring his mouth in the same manner he was exploring hers.
When she finally broke away, she was panting. Her cheeks were colored and her eyes glowed. She had the look of someone who’d drunk a little too much ale. And she looked up at him with such an expression that his entire body raged with arousal and sharp lust. So much so that he wanted to take her onto the riverbank and possess her with the sun warming the both of them.
She touched his lip and then touched hers, her finger lingering over her bottom one that was swollen from the force and longevity of their kiss. Then she smiled and something melted inside him.
“You’re going to freeze,” he muttered, taking note of the chill bumps that danced across her shoulders and arms.
He hauled her into his arms and carried her to the opposite bank, away from his mount. He turned and whistled and the horse obediently forded the stream.
He saw that Eveline’s clothing was folded neatly and on a nearby rock, but she also had a blanket, which was good because now that they were out of the water, she was shivering.
He put her down long enough to reach for the blanket, and then he wrapped it around her, covering her from head to toe. He even made certain her head was covered.
She stared up at him, her eyes gleaming in amusement as she tried to move. He’d swaddled her in the blanket so she couldn’t even move her arms, much less walk back to the keep.
He glanced at his horse, knowing it was the easiest way to return, but he saw her follow his gaze and noted the panic in her eyes. Her father hadn’t lied. The idea of mounting a horse terrified her.
He cupped her cheek, and she looked back up at him.
“I’ll not make you do something that frightens you, Eveline.”
She relaxed and then leaned her cheek against his palm. To his surprise, she turned just enough to kiss the inside of his hand. It was such a simple thing and yet he felt it all the way to his soul.
He reached down and lifted her into his arms. The walk to the keep wasn’t long and he’d need to put on dry clothing himself. And he liked her in his arms. It felt natural for him to be holding her thus.
As if agreeing completely, she snuggled into his embrace, turning her face into his neck.
Whistling for his horse, he set off for the keep. As he cleared the row of trees that shielded the particular spot where Eveline had chosen to take her swim, he saw Rorie sitting on the ground a short distance away. Her head was down, and as he approached, he realized she was napping. Behind her in the distance were two of his warriors on horseback conversing.
He almost laughed. Clearly Rorie was supposed to have been Eveline’s guard and she’d fallen asleep while on duty. At least his men had kept watch, though Eveline could have drowned and they never would have known. But neither did he want them looking on while she swam in the nude.
“Rorie,” he called out.
Rorie jerked upward, her eyes wide as she stared around. When her gaze finally locked on her brother and the fact that Eveline was in his arms, she scrambled to her feet.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” she demanded.
“Nothing is the matter,” Graeme said calmly. “Run ahead and prepare a fire in my chamber. Put out something for her to wear and perhaps place one of the furs from the bed by the hearth so the flames will warm it. Then instruct one of the men to return for Eveline’s clothing.”
Rorie’s brow wrinkled and she looked as though she’d argue, but Graeme sent her a dark look that suggested she wouldn’t like the consequences.
“Go,” he said again, and she took off across the meadow toward the guard’s tower.
CHAPTER 19
Eveline sighed in utter contentment as Graeme carried her through the courtyard and into the keep. She kept her eyes closed, because she was determined that nothing would ruin this moment. No stares from her clansmen. No cutting remarks. No insults.
He carried her into the keep and then up the stairs, and only then did she open her eyes as he bore her down the hall to his chamber.
Rorie was adding wood to the fire when Graeme entered the room. She scrambled up and then gestured toward the bed.
“I put a dress out for her to wear and there’s a fur warming by the fire as you requested.”
Eveline didn’t rear back so she could see Graeme’s response, but it rumbled out of his chest. She could feel the vibration, not only in her ears, but against her skin.
She loved the sound and the feel of his voice. It made her long to be able to hear, so she could do nothing but listen to him speak. He had to have the most wonderful voice in the world. Why else would it feel so delicious in her ears?
Rorie gave Eveline a small wave and a look that said, “You’re on your own” before she departed the chamber. Not that Eveline minded at all. She loved having her husband to herself when he would speak directly to her and there were no others to intrude or do things like pour ale all over Eveline.
She was quite liking the idea of Graeme as her husband, if only they could progress beyond the awkwardness wrought by her own past deceptions. She knew she must at some point, reveal herself fully to him, but when? And would it ruin any tenderness he felt toward her? Or did he in fact only feel tenderness because she was an object of pity?
It made her gut knot, because it could all go really wonderfully, but it could also go very, very wrong, and any protection she currently enjoyed because she was viewed as deficient could evaporate if the truth were known.
Graeme set her down in front of the fire, and then he held up the fur that Rorie had set out to warm. She glanced quickly up, not wanting to miss a single thing that Graeme said.
“I’ll hold up the fur and you can unwrap the blanket from you and then wrap yourself in this until you’re dry and warm enough to dress.”
She could see the discomfort in his face and it made her curious. Did he not view her as a woman? That couldn’t be the issue at all. He’d kissed her. He’d responded to her as a man does a woman. She’d seen her parents kiss. She’d seen others in her clan exchange passionate embraces. What she and Graeme had shared had certainly rocked her to her bones.
Perhaps he didn’t want to see her as a
woman. Perhaps he didn’t even want her as a wife. There was no perhaps there. It was obvious he hadn’t wanted a wife and he likely hadn’t changed his mind on that account.
But neither of them had been given a choice in the matter and in Eveline’s mind it was better to make the best of a bad situation. She liked Graeme. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she grew to like and even respect the man he was.
He’d been kind to her and he’d shown her understanding. Any man who could do that with the daughter of his most hated enemy was not an evil man.
Slowly she let the blanket fall away and Graeme hastily pressed the fur to her. She smiled and tucked it underneath her arms and then held it around her as she sat back down on the bench. Then she patted the place beside her, hoping that he, too, would take a seat and dry in front of the fire.
“I need to take off these wet clothes,” he said.
She nodded and turned, because it was obvious he was uncomfortable undressing in her presence. But she couldn’t help keeping enough of an angle so she could see him in her periphery.
She was extremely curious about her husband’s body and she wanted to see him. She’d never seen a man fully naked before.
She held her breath when he quickly stripped out of his tunic and his leggings. He turned sideways as he reached for dry clothing from the trunk at the foot of his bed.
He was … She wasn’t sure she had the words to adequately convey her awe or admiration. He had a warrior’s body, but it was … beautiful.
Thick legs, heavily muscled, as were his arms and broad shoulders. At the juncture of his legs was a dark whorl of hair and his manhood … She swallowed nervously, not wanting to be caught out staring, but she was fascinated by that particular portion of his anatomy.
She knew enough of the whole mating process to know what went where, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around how. It looked way too large to ever fit inside her, and as much as she wanted to be a true wife and consummate their marriage, she couldn’t imagine that it could be done without considerable pain and effort on her part.
Still, such a step was important if she was to be a true wife to Graeme and she wanted that. Wanted his acceptance and eventually his clan’s acceptance, if they could ever reach that point. She didn’t want to forever be the wife that Graeme Montgomery was saddled with, nothing more than a penance he had to pay for forced peace with her father’s clan.
She quickly forced her gaze forward when Graeme finished dressing, and a moment later, he settled onto the seat beside her before the fire.
She glanced up at him, not wanting to miss anything he would say, but he remained silent, his gaze focused on the flames.
Perhaps she should kiss him again. She certainly wanted to, but was nervous about how receptive he’d be now that she no longer had the element of surprise.
She licked her lips in anticipation and continued to stare up at him.
As if feeling the force of her gaze, he turned in her direction. His brown eyes glowed from the light of the fire and he seemed to study her, almost as if weighing his thoughts and words.
“I do not know what to do with you, Eveline Armstrong.”
She could feel the resignation in the way he held his body and the expression on his face. She frowned, not liking the implications of such a statement.
“I know not if what I am feeling is right and I do not like the guilt that plagues me for enjoying our kiss as I did.”
She smiled then, her heart suddenly lighter than it had been just moments before. She felt suddenly shy and would have averted her gaze, but knew it was too important to be able to see whatever he would say next.
Then she reached up to touch his chin, slowly moving her fingers over his lips. He closed his eyes, seeming to find pleasure in her touch. Before he could reopen them, she rose up to press her mouth against his.
The fur fell partially away from her body, but she paid it no heed as her lips covered the firm line of his mouth. She wanted to taste him again, to take his tongue inside again and feel it against her own.
His breath vibrated against her lips as he let out a sigh. Of resignation? Of surrender? She knew not, only that his mouth parted and his tongue stroked warmly over hers, returning her kiss in full measure.
There seemed to be no reluctance, no sign that he was fighting this strengthening emotion between them.
It was the sweetest pleasure Eveline had ever experienced. She wanted the moment to last forever, but Graeme was the first to pull away, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down at her.
Gently, he set her away from him. It felt more symbolic than a simple separation, almost as if he were erecting a visible barrier between them or that perhaps he needed the distance.
“I have matters to attend to,” he said.
Without looking at her again, he rose and walked to the doorway of their chamber. She didn’t look over her shoulder, as tempted as she was to do so. She was both elated and disheartened by the kiss and resulting reactions.
She stared down at her hands for a long moment, gathering her wildly scattered emotions. She had no experience in matters of the heart. Her one exposure to a potential husband had been disastrous and she’d vowed never to allow herself into a situation such as the one she would have found herself in with Ian McHugh. And the truth of the matter was, she hadn’t had a choice with Graeme, and it could have turned out as bad as or worse than any marriage to Ian. She’d merely been fortunate that Graeme didn’t seem intent on ill-using her and that he showed her kindness instead of vengeance.
Taking a deep breath, she stood, allowing the fur to fall away, and then she walked to the bed where Rorie had laid out a dress for her to change into. She wouldn’t allow anything to spoil today. Not spiteful clan members. Not her own doubts and misgivings or her fears over revealing the truth to Graeme.
She’d enjoyed her first kiss, her first taste of passion, and the stirrings of a desire she wanted to pursue.
Knowing that Rorie would likely be curious as to what prompted Graeme carrying her back to the keep and that she might even be concerned, Eveline headed down the stairs, determined to brave the gauntlet.
She was Graeme’s wife, whether his clan wanted to accept it or not. She’d accepted it, and if she had her way, Graeme would accept it soon as well. In time, his clan would follow suit. She had to believe that.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she sucked in a deep breath and rounded the doorway leading into the hall. She hurried toward the far end where the exit into the short corridor that housed the tiny room where Rorie liked to spend so much time was.
But the room was dark, furs drawn over the window, and Rorie was nowhere in sight. With a frown, Eveline returned to the hall, deciding to venture out of the keep where she’d hopefully discover Rorie’s whereabouts.
Where before the hall had been mostly empty save for a few women going back and forth from the kitchen, Eveline came face-to-face with a veritable crowd, or at least it seemed so with so many blocking her pathway to the courtyard.
At the forefront of the group of women—five women Eveline counted—was Kierstan, whose surly expression could only mean that this wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter.
Kierstan’s lip curled. “Whore.”
Eveline blinked in surprise. For one, it wasn’t her usual method of insult. Eveline had truly thought the lass limited in her vocabulary to a single insult.
The other women nodded, their expressions as fierce as Kierstan’s own.
“You’ll not take our laird in with your seductive wiles,” Kierstan continued. “He’s a man, and men can be swayed by a pretty face and a willing body. But you won’t be fooling us. We won’t let him forget who and what you are. You will never be welcome here, Armstrong bitch.”
Fury nearly blinded Eveline. The other women were chiming in with insults no doubt. All agreeing with Kierstan and supporting her statements. But Eveline couldn’t keep up with their mouths. The assembled women blurr
ed in her vision as she was gripped by rage.
Eveline turned to the huge fireplace in the center of the hall. A fireplace where two swords hung over the mantle. They were within reach and she doubted they were battle worthy. They looked to be more ornamental. But at the moment she cared not. One would certainly aid in her cause.
If they wanted madness, she’d give it to them.
She rushed to the fireplace, rose up on tiptoe, and yanked at the sword, praying it would come free and then praying that it didn’t weigh so much that she couldn’t even lift it.
The grip was old and worn and the blade not as thick or as large as the ones her kin carried or even those she’d seen the Montgomery warriors carry.
The sword came away without protest, and anger fueled her strength as she wobbled under the weight. She turned back to the women who now stared at her with unease.
She charged forward, holding the blade high, and bellowed, without worry over how loudly her words came forth. She cared not if the rafters rang with it. The word—the one word—that she was able to articulate billowed from her chest and squeezed out her throat with all the force she could muster.
“O-O-OUT!!”
CHAPTER 20
“Laird, come quickly! She’s gone completely mad! You must stop her before she kills someone!”
Sparring ceased all over the courtyard as the woman ran shrieking toward Graeme. Bowen stood down and Graeme lowered his sword. He held his hand out to stop the panicked babbling so he could understand what on God’s earth she was hollering about.
Murmurs rose from the warriors as in the background, emanating from the keep came an unholy sounding, “OOOUUUTTT!” More shrieks ensued and the woman in front of Graeme started her shrill exclamations all over again.
“Silence!” Graeme roared. “I cannot hear what is about!”
He advanced on the woman before him—Mary?—and tried to keep his voice calm and measured.
“What is amiss? Who are you talking about going mad and killing someone?”
“ ’Tis your wife, Laird! She’s taken a sword to the other women in the hall. You have to come quickly!”