The Guardian

“Teàrlag’s is a good place to meet,” she said. “I rarely see another soul on the path to her cottage.”

“I suspect Connor and Duncan are staying in the cave on the beach below her cottage,” Ian said. “That cove is a good place to hide Shaggy’s boat as well.”

“I remember that cave,” she said, turning to him. “You lads used to hide there, pretending ye were wild pirates.”

The other boys had been furious when she found them, until Ian suggested she could be the captive princess they held for ransom. At the time, being bound and gagged had seemed a small price to pay to be included in their game.

The path turned inland for the last mile, taking travelers through the valley to avoid the high sea cliffs on this stretch of the coast. Before taking the turn, Sìleas and Ian left the path to stand in a flat, grassy area at the top of the cliff.

“This is one of my favorite places,” Sìleas said.

She breathed in the brisk sea breeze as she gazed at the mountains that rose up on the other side of the inlet. Excitement tingled at her fingertips as she listened to the crash of waves far below. Like many islanders, the wildness of the sea spoke to her soul.

“Shall we see if the log is still there?” Ian asked, pointing to their right, where a goat path continued along the cliff.

“Aye, let’s.”

Ian took her hand and smiled at her as he tucked it under his plaid to keep it warm. She knew he was remembering, as she was, how he used to take her hand along this path.

“I’m no likely to step off the edge now,” she said, smiling back.

“All the same, I’ll feel better if I have a hold on ye,” he said. “The wind is strong, and it’s a long way down.”

The first part of the cliff path was wide enough for them to walk side by side between the cliff and the rock outcrop. After a short distance, the path veered around a huge boulder. It narrowed beyond that and then ended abruptly at the edge of a giant crevice that split the cliff.

“The log is still here,” Ian said, sounding pleased.

In a long-ago storm, a tree that had once clung to the edge of the cliff fell across the thirty-foot fissure, forming a bridge of sorts. The only way to continue was to cross the log as the goats did.

Sìleas sucked in her breath as she peeked over the edge. “I can’t believe you lads used to cross here, instead of going around by the main path.”

“Ach, we were foolish. ’Tis a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves,” Ian said, pulling her back. “The only time I was truly frightened, though, was when ye followed us.”

Sìleas remembered the feel of the slippery wood beneath her bare feet and the sound of the swell and crash of the waves against the rocks below. Ian had told her not to come, so she had hidden behind the boulder until all four boys had crossed over the crevice and disappeared down the path on the other side.

“It took a year off my young life when I turned around and saw ye on the log.” Ian put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side.

She had gotten halfway across the crevice before she looked down and froze.

“What made ye turn around that day?” she asked. His arm felt good around her. She couldn’t help leaning into him.

“I felt a prickle at the back of my neck.” He gave her a smile that made her stomach flutter and touched his knuckle under her chin.

Sìleas watched the water rise as another wave filled the narrow crevice, then crashed against the sheer walls. As it exploded into spray and foam, she tasted the dizzying fear that had gripped her when she stood on that log as a wee girl. That day, she had been unable to take her eyes off the rushing water thundering below her—until she heard Ian calling to her.

Don’t look down, Sìl, Look at me. Look at me!

Biting her lip, she’d torn her gaze from the swirling water to meet Ian’s eyes.

Don’t be scared, because I’m coming to get ye.

Ian had walked across the log toward her, holding her with his gaze and talking to her all the while. Even now, her body recalled the surge of relief that went through her limbs when his hand finally clasped her wrist.

I’ve got ye now. I’ll not let ye fall.

And he hadn’t.

Sìleas realized she was holding her breath and blew it out. A swell of gratitude rose in her chest for the eleven-year-old boy who had crossed the log without a moment’s hesitation to save her. Ian was always like that—fearless and decisive in a crisis. It was not the only time he had rescued her, just the most dramatic.

After that day, whenever she was in trouble, she no longer prayed to God to save her. Instead, she prayed for God to send Ian.

“Sìleas,” Ian said, bringing her attention from the lad in her memory to the man beside her. He backed her up to the boulder and braced his arms on either side of her. “I think ye owe me a kiss for scaring me half to death that day.”

Without waiting for her to agree, he lowered his head toward hers.

She couldn’t resist him and didn’t want to. Gripping the front of his plaid to steady herself, she tilted her head back to meet him. When his lips touched hers, she melted into him. The water crashing and churning below and the wind whipping the branches of the trees above echoed the tumult pulsing through her.

Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy as he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks.

“Did ye bring me to this spot thinking the memory would make me soft on ye?” she asked.

“Aye,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “Did it work?”

Beneath his vanity and that dangerous edge that seemed to make the air crackle around him, she caught glimpses of the good-hearted lad he used to be. Remembering that boy’s blind disregard for his own safety to protect her, she could almost trust him.

Yet it wasn’t the boy who had left her, but the man.

“Ye didn’t used to smell so good,” Ian said, kissing her hair. He ran his hands up her sides under her cloak, making her feel light-headed and breathless. “I like the feel of ye even better.”

It was hard to think with his hands on her and his breath in her ear. Finally, she forced herself to brace her hands against his chest.

“I paid ye the kiss,” she said. “Now it’s time we were on our way.”

“That kiss was for scaring me that day,” he said, as he brushed light kisses along her jaw. “I’m afraid ye owe me several more for getting ye off the log.”

Her heart raced as he brought his mouth back to hers. His lips were soft and warm and, once again, she turned liquid in his arms. When he ended the kiss, she peeled herself away from him, feeling flushed and confused.

“I’m verra glad I waited to collect the debt,” he said, smiling at her with the devil in his eyes.

“I am not a trinket to be played with.” Sìleas attempted to push him away, but he was as immovable as the rock at her back.

“I don’t know what ye mean by that remark.” he said, his smile gone and the edge of anger in his voice. “What makes ye think I take ye lightly?”

“Perhaps because ye ignored me and your vows for the last five years,” she said. “And don’t try to tell me ye had no women in France, for I’ll no believe it.”

“I didn’t think of ye as my wife then.” He took her chin in his hand and fixed intense blue eyes on her. “But I do now.”

“Well, I don’t.” She darted under his arm and started around the boulder, but he caught her around the waist and hauled her back.

“Ye are my wife, like it or no,” he said, towering over her. “So ye may as well like it.”

“I don’t like it,” she said. “Not one bit.”

“Ye lie, Sìl,” he said, his eyes hot on hers. “Ye like it when I kiss ye. If ye have forgotten already, I’ll have to show ye again.”

Ian pulled her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her senseless. Every argument faded under the assault on her senses. It was as if she had been starving for his kisses without knowing it. Now that she had discovered what she craved, she had to taste it, touch it. She wanted to swallow him whole, take him inside her, and never lose him.

She clung to him, unable to get close enough.

“I want to feel you,” Ian said, pushing back her cloak.

Wherever he touched, his hands burned her skin with a heat that drew her ever closer. He dropped his head and pressed his lips to where her pulse was beating madly at the base of her throat. She sucked in her breath as his hands covered her breasts.

“Ahhh,” he breathed. “Your breasts were made for my hands.”

He dipped his head lower, running his tongue in the valley between them. His lips were warm and wet on her skin. When he took her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pure lust shot through her body and down her limbs, like whiskey on an empty belly.

Her head fell back against the boulder as she let the new sensations take her. When she felt the moist warmth of Ian’s mouth on her breast, she started. He found the nipple through the cloth and flicked his tongue over it, and it felt so good she didn’t want him to stop.

When he sucked her breast into his mouth, she felt it down to her toes. She had a fleeting sense of embarrassment when she realized she had groaned aloud, but it was soon lost in the swirl of sensations Ian was pulling from her. She was panting by the time he released her breast to move up her throat with hot, wet kisses.

“Ach, I love the sounds ye make,” he said against her ear. “I want ye beneath me, Sìleas. I want to bury myself inside ye and bring ye such pleasure that ye cry out my name.”

He kissed her until her lips felt swollen. When he pulled away, cold air chilled the heated skin beneath her clothes, leaving her with a physical longing for the body that had pressed against hers. She felt stunned, disoriented, and too aware of her body. Her breasts tingled, she felt wet and achy between her legs, and her fingertips itched for the silky feel of his hair and the rough cloth of his shirt.

“See, ye do like my kisses,” Ian said, looking altogether too sure of himself. “And I promise ye, ye will like it still better when I take ye to bed.”

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “That doesn’t mean I’ll like being wed to ye.”

“It’s a verra good start,” he said, with a gleam in his eye.

“Ye are a vain man, Ian MacDonald,” she said, and turned her attention to straightening her gown.

She felt Ian go still and looked up to see his gaze fixed on something behind her. Holding a finger to his lips, he nodded in the direction of the road. She turned around and saw twenty men heading up the road toward them. Judging from the blades she could see, they were prepared for trouble—or to cause it.

At the front of the group, was none other than Hugh Dubh MacDonald.

She felt Ian’s tension in the taut muscles of his body as he leaned against her, pressing her into the boulder.

“They’re coming for Connor,” he said next to her ear, as the group started around the bend in the road.

“God, no,” she whispered. “What can we do?”

“ ’Tis quicker to Teàrlag’s along the cliff path.” He spun her around and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I must warn Connor and Duncan. Wait here, and I’ll come back for ye as soon as I can.”

“I’m going with ye,” she said. “Ye might need me.”

“No, you’re staying here. I don’t have time to argue.” He started to leave, but halted. “Damn it!”

She turned to see what had caught his attention. Four of Hugh’s men were settling themselves down at the side of the road, instead of following the others.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Hugh has remembered we used to take the goat path,” he said in a hushed voice. “He’s left these men to cut off Connor and Duncan’s escape by this route.”

When she looked up at him, Ian’s jaw was set and his eyes cold-blue steel.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand. “I can’t leave ye here now.”

CHAPTER 14

Ian stepped onto the log as if he were going up a doorstep instead of walking off a cliff. When she told him earlier that she wanted to go with him, her only thought was that she didn’t want to be separated from him. But fear gripped her belly now.

Ian stood sideways on the log and held his hand out to her. “Hold on, and we’ll cross together.”

Despite the chill in the air, her palms were sweaty. She wiped them on her cloak before reaching out to take his hand. The hand that enveloped hers was dry and warm and reassuring. Gingerly, she put one foot on the log.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Just remember not to look down,” Ian said. “We’ll be on the other side before ye know it.”

She took another step, and now both feet were on the log—and over the cliff. Although she kept her eyes fixed on Ian, she could hear the rushing water below.

“You’re doing fine,” Ian said. “I won’t let ye fall.”

She took another step.

“ ’Tis easier to keep your balance if ye move quickly,” he said, urging her along.

She took another step and another. It was getting easier. She dared to breathe again.

When she was halfway across, her foot hit a clump of moss and slipped. Though she recovered her balance almost at once, her gaze dropped to the churning water far below. Panic shot through her limbs and sweat prickled under her arms. Her feet would not move again.

“Look at me,” Ian said in a tone that said everything would be all right. “I have ye, Sìl. I have ye.”

With an effort, she wrenched her gaze from the crashing waves below to Ian’s face. His expression was confident, reassuring.

“That’s a good lass,” Ian said. “We’re nearly there.”

Step by step, she followed him, squeezing his hand until her fingers ached. An eternity later, she reached the other side, and Ian was lifting her down. The feel of solid earth beneath her feet made her light-headed with relief.

“Ye are going to owe me a hundred kisses for that,” he said, his voice hard and urgent. “We must hurry now.”

Her trial was not over, for they still had to follow the cliff path the rest of the way to Teàrlag’s cottage.

“Can ye let go?” she asked, as Ian pulled her along. “I’ve no feeling left in my fingers.”

“No.”

The path narrowed until it was a ledge barely as wide as her foot. They sidestepped over loose stones with the rock face at their backs. Beyond the toes of her shoes was nothing but air—and the gray swells and white foam far below.

Sìleas’s heart pounded in her ears as she scanned the sheer cliff below for shrubs growing out of the rock that she could grab hold of if she fell.

And then her heel slipped on the loose rock, and her foot shot out from under her. She screamed Ian’s name as she fell to her death.

She continued screaming as her feet dangled in the air.

“I’ve got ye,” Ian said, his voice strained.

She stopped screaming and looked up. Ian’s knees were bent, and he had one arm spread across the rock wall for balance; his other hand still held her wrist. His jaw was clenched, and the muscles of his neck were taut with the effort of holding her.

With a grunt, he hoisted her back up onto the path. Her knees were shaking so violently she would have fallen again if Ian was not holding her up.

“We can’t stop here,” Ian said, looking hard into her eyes. “I told ye I would not let ye fall. Ye need to trust me.”

She nodded. Ian had a firm hold on her arm; he would not let her go.

“Just a wee bit farther, love,” Ian said, coaxing her along. “I can almost see Teàrlag’s cottage now.”

Sìleas’s heart was in her mouth, but she moved with him.

“That’s a good lass. Three or four more steps is all.”

When the footpath finally opened onto the clearing behind Teàrlag’s cottage, Sìleas wanted to sink to her knees and kiss the grass.

“For that, ye owe me a good deal more than kisses,” Ian said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “Now we must find Connor and Duncan.”

They ran into Teàrlag’s cottage and found the two men sitting at her table eating stew from large wooden bowls.

“Time to run, lads,” Ian said in a dead calm voice. “Hugh and twenty armed men are coming up the road.”

Connor and Duncan were on their feet before Ian finished speaking.

“We’ll be in the cave,” Connor said, as he strapped on his claymore. “Make some noise to warn us if they start down to the beach.”

“I will,” Ian said. “Just go.”

“Sorry, Teàrlag,” Connor said over his shoulder, as he went out the door.

“Save my stew,” Duncan said, as he grabbed an oatcake. He waved it at them as he followed Connor out.

Sìleas sank into the chair that was still warm from Connor sitting in it.

“Where’s your whiskey, Teàrlag?” Ian asked.

“I’ll get it,” the old woman said.

Sìleas’s limbs felt melded to the chair as she watched the other two go about their tasks with quick, controlled movements. In a blink, Ian dumped the stew from the bowls into the pot hanging over the hearth, wiped the bowls clean with a cloth, and set them on the shelf above the table.

While Ian did that, Teàrlag unearthed a jug from beneath her mending in the basket in the corner and poured a healthy measure of it into two cups on the table.

“Drink it down,” Ian ordered Sìleas and tossed his own back.

Sìleas choked as the fiery liquid burned down her throat.

Ian wiped the cups clean, set them back on the shelf, and took the chair beside her. “Now, we are here having a nice, relaxing chat with Teàrlag.”

A moment later the door burst open and several foul-smelling men crowded into the small room. The first was Hugh Dubh.

Sìleas had not seen him this close since she was a bairn. As Hugh surveyed the tiny cottage, she was struck by how much he looked like his brother, the former chieftain, and Ragnall. He had the same square face, impressive frame, and commanding presence, but there was something dark and sinister in Hugh’s sea-mist eyes. The chieftain and Ragnall had been hard men, but they didn’t have this evil in them.

“Where are they?” Hugh demanded.

The cow on the other side of the half wall mooed in complaint as one of Hugh’s men pushed her aside and slashed at the straw with his claymore.

“If ye throw my cow off her milk, ye’ll answer to me,” Teàrlag said.

“The other three can’t be far off, if you’re here,” Hugh said to Ian. “Why don’t ye save us both a lot of trouble and tell me where my nephew is? Connor and I need to have a talk.”

“I’m sure ye already know that Alex is staying with my family,” Ian said, leaning back in his chair as if they were discussing how the fish were biting. “But I haven’t seen Connor and Duncan.”

“I have to ask myself why Ian MacDonald would be coming to see this old woman,” Hugh said, tilting his head in Teàrlag’s direction. “And the only answer that comes to me is that ye wouldn’t. So I’m guessing that you’re here because the others are hiding nearby.”

Hugh waved to his men and headed for the door. “Come along lads, let’s find them.”

“I came with my wife,” Ian said, resting his arm along the back of Sìleas’s chair. When Hugh turned around, Ian added in a low voice, “Female problems, ye know.”

Hugh raked his eyes over Sìleas, making her feel as if he could see beneath her clothes. “The lass looks fine to me.”

“There’s nothing’s wrong with her,” Teàrlag said, and all heads turned toward her.

“I knew Ian was lying,” Hugh spit out and reached for his dirk.

“ ’Tis true his wife brought him here.” Teàrlag pursed her lips and shook her head. “Sometimes a lass has a problem with her husband, though I rarely see it in a man as young as Ian.”

Ian coughed and banged the front legs of his chair to the floor.

“Teàrlag!” he said, glaring at the old seer.

“Are ye saying our lad Ian here is having trouble pleasing his pretty wife?” Hugh was grinning ear to ear.

“Nothing to fret about,” Teàrlag said, sounding as if there was plenty to worry about.

Sìleas choked back a laugh and put her hand on Ian’s leg to prevent him from rising from his chair.

“Sìleas is such a patient lass, waiting on her husband for five long years,” Teàrlag said, looking mournful. “I’m sure she’s willing to wait a wee bit longer for him to overcome his… battle injury.”

“I wasn’t injured there,” Ian shouted. “There is nothing wrong with me parts.”

Hugh and the other men roared with laughter.

“Sometimes the injury lies here,” Teàrlag said, tapping her temple with her knobby finger. “But don’t fret, I have a potion I’ll mix for ye. It works… sometimes.”

At the look of outrage on Ian’s face, Sìleas had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing.

Hugh and the other men were guffawing. The angrier Ian became, the more they believed Teàrlag’s story.

“If ye lose patience with Ian, I can find ye a new husband,” Hugh said, giving Sìleas a broad wink. “One who will be up to the task.”

The men burst into a new round of laughter.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Sìleas said, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I’m sure Ian will be right as rain soon.”

“It’s a hard rain she’s hoping for,” one of the men said, and he was rewarded with snorts and snickers.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Ian jumped to his feet and clenched his hands in front of him. “I’m ready to fight any man who says there is.”

“You’d best save your strength,” Hugh said, choking with laughter. He turned to Sìleas and added, “Don’t forget my offer.”

When Ian took a step toward Hugh, Sìleas stood up in front of him.

Ian’s breathing was harsh, and the muscles of his arms were taut beneath her fingers. It would be foolish for Ian to attack Hugh with five of his men in the room and another fifteen waiting outside.

Hugh threw his head back, letting his laughter fill the tiny room. Sìleas was certain now that he was trying to bait Ian—and he was close to succeeding.

“ ’Tis not wise to laugh at the misfortunes of others,” Teàrlag said, “especially when ye will be facing worse ones yourself.”

Hugh’s smile disappeared. “What are ye saying, old woman?”

“I see your death, Hugh Dubh MacDonald.”

Hugh’s face drained of color, and he took a step back.

Teàrlag reached into a small bowl on the shelf above the hearth and threw what looked like dried herbs on the fire, making it spit and smoke. Then her good eye rolled back into her head, and she began making an eerie high-pitched sound as she shifted from foot to foot.

“I see it clear as day,” Teàrlag said in a distant voice, as if she were speaking to them from the other side. “Ye are laid out on a long table, and the women are preparing your body for the grave.”

“Don’t say it, witch!” Hugh held his hands up as he backed up to the cottage door.

“I see your death, Hugh Dubh MacDonald,” Teàrlag called out, waving her arms. “I see your death, and no one is weeping!”

“Damn ye, woman! Ye know nothing. Ye see nothing,” Hugh shouted, then turned and left the cottage. The other men stumbled over each other in their hurry to follow him out the door.

As soon as the men had gone, Ian turned blazing eyes on the old seer. “Why did ye find it necessary to tell them lies about my manhood, Teàrlag? All the men on the island will be having a good laugh at me by this evening.”

“The women, too.” Teàrlag’s three good top teeth showed in a wide grin.

“Her story did divert them from looking for Connor and Duncan,” Sìleas said in a soft voice, as she tried to hide her own smile.

“Ah well,” Teàrlag said, waving her hand. “Ye deserve it after what ye done to Sìleas.”

“What?” Ian said, banging his fist on the table. “I’ve done nothing to deserve being humiliated.”

“Do ye not suppose the entire clan discussed how ye left Sìleas the morning after ye wed?” Teàrlag said, shaking a nobby finger at him.

Ian sat down. After a long moment, he turned to Sìleas and took her hand. “Did the women tease ye, then?”

“Oh, aye,” Sìleas said with a dry laugh. Pitching her voice high, she imitated their voices. “ ‘Can ye no keep your man at home, Sìl?’ ‘What do ye suppose is keeping Ian?’ ‘If ye had given him a child, perhaps your husband would want to come home.’ ”

Ian brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m sorry. When I was in France, I still thought of ye as a young girl who would have no use for a husband.”

If ye thought of me at all.

“Ian, go get the other lads now,” Teàrlag said, taking the bowls down from the shelf. “They haven’t finished their dinner.”

It amused Sìleas to hear Teàrlag order Ian about as if he were a boy of ten and not a man three times her size. Her amusement faded as soon as Ian had gone and Teàrlag focused her single eye on her.

“So why have ye no taken that fine-looking husband to your bed yet?” Teàrlag said. “I know it isn’t for the reason I gave that devil Hugh Dubh.”

Sìleas felt her cheeks go hot, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Give him time,” Teàrlag said, covering Sìleas’s hand with her gnarled one. “Ian has it in him to be the man ye want him to be. Do ye have that pouch I made for ye?”

Sìleas nodded.

“Ye sleep with it next to your heart?” Teàrlag asked.

She nodded again.

“Then ye know what to do, lass.”

CHAPTER 15

Ian feared for his health.

Sìleas was driving him near witless with lust. It could not be good for a man to want a woman this much without satisfaction. Collecting the kisses he said she owed him only made the torture worse.

He lay awake at night imagining her creamy skin in the moonlight. Every time he heard her voice in the next room or caught a glimpse of her across the yard, he hoped she had come to seek him out, to tell him she was ready.

He imagined her walking toward him, slowly, with her hips swaying and a sparkle in her eyes. Then she would rest the flat of her hands on his chest and say, “I’ve made up my mind. I want ye in my bed, Ian MacDonald.”

Ian shook his head and set down his hammer before he did damage to himself. Every time he backed her into a corner to steal a kiss, someone would come in and distract her. A few times he got his hand on her breast—ach, he was hard just thinking of that—but no further.

He could not take much more of this.

And he didn’t have time to waste. With Samhain just over a fortnight away, they needed to do something dramatic. He had discussed it with Connor and Duncan when he went to get them from the cave that day at Teàrlag’s. All of them agreed that the best way to sway their clansman into backing Connor was to take Knock Castle.

To justify attacking the MacKinnons, Ian needed to remove any question as to his right to Knock Castle as Sìleas’s husband. Of course, they could take the castle without a rightful claim—it was done all the time—but that would draw the Crown into the dispute. Connor and the MacDonalds didn’t need that kind of trouble on top of what they already had.

Which meant Ian needed to consummate his marriage. Bed his bride. ’Twas fortunate, indeed, that the needs of the clan matched his own precisely.

Everything was arranged. Ian had convinced his mother and Niall that taking his father out on a sail around Seal Island would do them all good. Of course, Alex had no trouble persuading Dina to disappear with him for the afternoon.

Finally, Ian would have Sìleas alone.

He found her in the kitchen. She was leaning over the worktable, pressing an oat mixture into the bottom of a flat pan. He sucked in his breath as he imagined lying on that table and having her work over him. She looked fetching with her hair pinned up, save for a few loose tendrils curling down her neck and the sides of her face.

“Smells good,” he said. The kitchen was warm and smelled of oats and honey.

She started at the sound of his voice and looked up, wide-eyed. “I didn’t hear ye come in.”

“What’s that you’re making?”

“A treat for your da,” she said with a smile. “He has a sweet tooth, ye know. And I’ll have some left over to take to Annie up the road. She’s just had a new babe.”

Ian rolled up his sleeves and came around the table to stand beside her. “I used to help my mother in the kitchen.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “I’m sure you were a verra big help to her.”

“Ach, I’m hurt ye don’t believe me,” he said. “Come, I’ll show ye how good I am.”

She raised her eyebrows, showing him she suspected he wasn’t just talking about his cooking skills.

He wasn’t.

She dipped a wooden spoon into the honey jar and dribbled honey over the oat mixture.

“Dina was supposed to be helping me.” She gave the wooden spoon a hard whack against the side of the pan. “There it’s done.”

“Ye won’t be seeing Dina this afternoon,” Ian said, taking the spoon from her to lick the honey off. “She and Alex are… keeping each other company.”

Her hands stilled, and her cheeks turned a couple of shades of red. “So that’s the way of it.”

Ian was pleased for the opportunity to warn her off Alex. “I hope Dina doesn’t expect to be the only one.”

“I hope Alex doesn’t, either.”

He laughed, then added for good measure, “Alex is not the sort of man to stay in one woman’s bed.”

“I don’t think ye are in a position to criticize Alex, when ye can hardly claim to have been living the life of a saint yourself.” Sìleas picked up the pan and slapped it down so hard the table rattled. “That helps settle the mixture. I’ll wait to cook it ’til they’re home.”

Ian leaned into her. “I’m living a monk’s life now, if that’s any comfort to ye.”

“Ach, such a sacrifice,” she said, as she moved ingredients around on the table for no purpose he could discern. “What has it been, all of a week?”

He moved behind her and took a firm hold of her hips. Ah, she felt good against him.

“A week seems a verra long time,” he said as he nuzzled her neck, “when every moment of it I’m wishing I had ye naked.”

He kissed the side of her neck and felt her pulse racing beneath his lips. She drew in a sharp breath when he pressed his throbbing erection against her buttocks.

“I’d love to lay ye back on the table here,” he said, as he ran his hands up her arms.

“Shhh! Someone might come in and hear ye.” She sounded scandalized, but she shivered at his touch.

“No one else is at home,” he said, nipping at her earlobe. “ ’Tis just you and me.”

Her breathing changed when he slipped his hands around her ribs and stroked the underside of her breasts with his thumbs.

“I’m thinking that the first time I make love to ye ought to be in our marriage bed,” he said. “But if ye say here on the table, I’m a willing man.”

Sìleas wiped her hands on her apron and made a show of pushing at his forearms. “Let me go now.”

This was no serious resistance. When Sìleas told him no and meant it, she hit him with a skillet and stood over him with a blade in her hand.

He blew on the back of her neck and was rewarded when a “mmmm” escaped her lips. Her skin was soft and creamy as fresh butter and smelled of cinnamon and honey. Needing to taste her, he ran his tongue along her skin above the edge of her gown.

He cupped the soft fullness of her breasts and had to squeeze his eyes shut against the surge of lust that filled him. Oh, God, how he wanted her.

When he found her nipples, she made a low sound in the back of her throat that drove him mad—and he was determined to hear it again. As he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, she dropped her head back against his shoulder, and her breath came fast and shallow.

He tried to catch his own breath. She was like soft wax in his hands now, hot and molding to his touch. This time she was going to let him get under her skirts, he knew it. Heaven help him, he was going to explode right here if she kept moving against him like that.

It was time to take his wife upstairs. At last. Just as he was about to lift her off her feet to carry her up, he noticed a mark on her neck.

It was a white line, barely visible. A scar.

He ran a finger over it. “What’s this from?”

She went rigid. When she tried to jerk away from him, he held her in place.

“How did ye get this?”

“ ’Tis nothing,” she said. “Let me go, I mean it now.”

He pushed the edge of her gown down an inch or two for a better look. The scar continued down her back, out of sight.

She turned around in his arms and rested her palms on his chest. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she said, “I want ye to kiss me.”

His gaze locked on her full, parted lips, and he was sorely tempted. But why was she so desperate to divert him? When she slid her hands up around his neck and leaned against him, it was damned hard to resist her.

He brushed her soft cheek with his thumb. “What is it that ye don’t want me to know?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and narrowed her eyes. Her brief game of seductress was over. A shame, that. But something here didn’t sit right with him.

Each time he had kissed her, things had gone well—very well—until the moment he began unfastening buttons or hooks. As he thought about that, it came to him that this was the first time he’d seen her with her hair up.

“Ye can cooperate or no,” he said, “but I’m going to have a look.”

Her bottom lip trembled. Saints above, what was this about? Sìleas never cried. Even when she was a child of six and her father forgot her places, leaving her to find her own way home, she hadn’t shed a tear.

He kissed the side of her face and gently turned her around.

“Don’t,” she said in a small voice, but he could tell she had given up expecting him to concede.

His fingers felt big and clumsy as he unfastened the tiny hooks. When he had them undone to her waist, he pushed the gown off her shoulders. The chemise she wore beneath it dipped low enough in the back for him to see what she was hiding.

Rage took him like a storm, pounding in his ears and making his hands shake. He reached around her to slam his fist on the table. “I’ll kill him. I swear, I will kill whoever did this to you.”

She was weeping silently, but he was so filled with violence that he was afraid to put his hands on her.

“Who did this to ye?” he asked. “Ye must tell me.”

She wiped her face with her hand. “Who do ye think? My step-da.”

“Ach, Sìl, why didn’t ye tell me?” He wanted to throw his head back and howl in his outrage. She had still been a child when Murdoc did this. “If I’d known he was hurting ye, I would have done something.”

But he should have known. He had always been her protector, and this had happened under his nose.

“When did he do this?” He strained to soften his voice, knowing anger was not what she needed from him now, but it was hard when his body still pulsed with it.

She took a shaky breath. “Mostly Murdoc didn’t trouble himself with me. As ye know, he expected my mother to give him a son who would inherit Knock Castle.”

Sìleas’s mother had lost several babes before they reached a year. And Ian had no idea how many miscarriages the poor woman had.

“After she died losing that last baby, Murdoc got it into his head that he could keep my lands by wedding me to his son Angus. He gave me no peace after that. When I told him I would never marry a MacKinnon, let alone that disgusting son of his, he tried to beat me into agreeing to it.”

Ian clenched his jaw until it ached to keep from shouting curses. Years ago, Angus MacKinnon had nearly caused a clan war by raping a woman from Ian’s mother’s clan, Clan Ranald. The matter had been settled with a hefty payment, but hard feelings remained—as did rumors of Angus’s penchant for violence.

“But ye know how stubborn I am,” Sìleas said, glancing over her shoulder to give him a bittersweet smile. “In the end, Murdoc locked me in my bedchamber and sent for Angus.”

“And that was the day I found ye?” Ian asked, though he already knew the bitter truth.

She nodded. “Murdoc didn’t know about the tunnel.”

Christ, forgive me. All this time, he had blamed Sìleas for their forced wedding. He thought she’d caused it through some girlish foolishness that had gone farther than she expected. He’d had no notion she was in serious trouble that day.

But then, he hadn’t made much effort to find out, either.

She covered her face and said in a choked whisper, “I knew ye would find me disgusting again once ye saw it.”

“God help me, Sìl, how can ye say that?” He turned her around and pulled her against his chest. “Please tell me ye don’t think so little of me.”

He held her tight and kissed her hair until she ceased to weep. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the stairs.

Sometimes words were not enough.

CHAPTER 16

Sìleas rested her head against Ian’s chest as he carried her up the stairs. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, but she felt safe nestled in his arms, and she needed to feel safe now.

Ian carried her into her bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him. As soon as he set her on her feet next to the bed, he whisked her gown over her head, leaving her standing in her chemise. She was too drained to be embarrassed. He kept one hand on her shoulder to steady her as he folded back the blankets, then he lifted her onto the bed.

With a gentleness surprising in such a big man, he brushed the hair back from her face with his fingers. The gesture reminded her of his father’s kindness that day he found them in the wood and knelt beside her, talking softly and holding her hand between his huge ones.

Beneath the dangerous, war-hardened man Ian had become, the kindness of the boy he once was lingered. He framed her face with his hands and leaned down to kiss her. She sighed as he brushed his lips over hers.

“I don’t want ye to fret,” he said in a soft voice, “but I’m coming into bed with ye.”

Her mouth went dry as he unfastened his claymore and laid it on the floor next to the bed, where it would be close at hand. She knew he did it from habit, and yet that, too, made her feel safe. No one would get past the door while Ian was here.

She watched as he took off his boots and socks and then unwound his plaid and dropped it. He was standing in just his shirt, which fell to his thighs. She stared at his powerful legs, so different from how they were when he was a boy, then brought her gaze slowly back to his face. Ian had been a lovely boy, but he was so handsome now it made her ache to look at him.

When he met her gaze and his eyes went dark, she felt a stirring deep within her. Even if what he felt for her was mostly pity, she couldn’t help reacting to his desire for her. Desire, pity, duty. If that was all that brought him to her bed and secured their marriage, he would never be content with her. At least not for long.

She drew in a shaky breath as Ian unfastened his shirt. He paused midway and dropped his hands.

He did not want her after all. The scars were too ugly.

“I’m no going to take your virginity this time, because ye are upset,” he said. “I want ye to decide to have me as your husband with a clear head and heart.”

The bed rocked as he climbed in beside her. Before she could catch her breath, he pulled her into his arms. The heat and power of him radiated through her from head to toe.

“What I am going to do,” he said with his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, “is leave ye with no doubt that I want ye.”

She swallowed. She strongly suspected his plan would involve removing the rest of her clothes.

“It’s too light” was all she could manage to get through her tight throat.

“The first time I have ye naked, I want to see ye.”

The first time. Would there be a second after he saw her back? He’d only seen a little of her scars in the kitchen. And even if the scars didn’t trouble him, would she disappoint him in other ways?

“You’re as lovely as your name, Sìleas.” He said her name, drawing out the shhh sound. “I should have known you’d grow into it, just as ye have your teeth.”

She didn’t think it was possible to draw a smile from her, but this did. “And what is wrong with my teeth?”

“Nothing at all.” He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, making her breath hitch. “I’d like to feel them on my skin.”

“Are ye joking?” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.

He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he shook his head, and her heart skipped a beat. Taking her hand, he scraped his teeth over the pad of her thumb, sending a thrill of sensation through her.

When he covered her mouth with his, she found it hard to hang onto her worries.

He’d kissed her many times now, so she thought she was prepared. But kissing lying down was turning out to be a different experience altogether. She felt overwhelmed by his closeness, by the weight of him leaning over her, pressing her into the bed.

His lips were warm and soft. When she put her palm to his face to feel the rough bristles against her palm, he made a low sound in his throat. The thrust of his tongue in her mouth sent spirals of pleasure down to her belly. Her heart was beating too fast. And that was before she felt the warmth of his hand cover her breast.

She gasped for breath when he tore his mouth away from hers.

“Ahh, ye feel good, Sìl,” he said in her ear.

He nipped at her earlobe, sending unexpected tingles through her, then kissed the side of her face. As he moved down her throat, he drew involuntary sighs from her lips. The moist warmth of his breath, his lips, his tongue on her skin, captured all her attention. But when she felt his mouth on the bare skin at the top of her breast, her eyes flew open.

When she started to sit up, Ian locked his hands around her wrists, pressed them to the bed on either side of her head, and proceeded to dissolve her resistance with endless kisses. She wasn’t aware of when he released her hands, but she had them around his neck now, urging him closer.

She groaned in disappointment when he pulled away. He gave her a warm smile that shone in his eyes.

“We’d best get this next part over with, Sìl.”

Before she knew it, he flipped her onto her stomach.

Guessing his intention, she gripped the sides of her chemise with both hands. “No, Ian. No.”

Instead of jerking her chemise up as she expected, he drew her hair to the side and started kissing her neck. His lips were so soft, she sighed without meaning to. Then he kissed her bare shoulder. Straddling her on all fours, he slowly worked his way down, rubbing firm hands over her and kissing her through the cloth of her chemise.

She had been touched so little in her life. The intimacy of the contact caused little flutters in her stomach. She started at the unexpected sensation when he nipped at her bottom through the chemise, with what felt very much like his teeth. When she rose up on her elbows to look over her shoulder, he gave her a devilish grin.

She let her head sink back to the bed. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on his hands as they slid over her hips and up and down her thighs. When he picked up her foot and kissed the bottom, it tickled and felt good at the same time. Her foot! Surely, he must care a little to do that.

He started back up her legs, but this time he was touching bare skin. She clenched her fists in her chemise again, but her fingers loosened as he kneaded the muscles of her legs.

“Your legs are tight,” he said. “Ye work too hard.”

“Mmmph.”

His strong hands felt wonderful on her sore muscles—though she tensed every time his hand strayed to the inside of her thigh.

When he nipped at her bottom again, there was no cloth between it and his teeth. But it felt so good to be touched all over, she didn’t object.

She was drifting in a liquid pool of warmth, when Ian leaned over her and said in her ear, “I have to do this.”

She felt a gush of cold air on her back. Then she heard Ian suck in his breath and felt him go still above her.

“No!” She tried to get up, but Ian held her down by her shoulders.

He was quiet for a long time. Then he said in a strained voice, “Truly, I can hardly see the scars, they are so faint.”

“You’re lying to me. Ye can’t bear to look at me.”

“No, no, it’s not that at all,” he said.

She drew in a shaky breath and rested her head on the bed again.

“It’s just that I can tell what they once looked like, what he did to ye,” he said. “And it makes me so angry, I want to kill the bastard with my bare hands.”

When she felt his lips touch her back with feather-light kisses, tears filled her eyes at his tenderness.

“I’ve been afraid Murdoc would come take me ever since your da came home injured.” She glanced at Ian over her shoulder and saw him wince as if her words cut him.

“He will no get ye now,” he said. “I won’t let him.”

“I know,” she said against the pillow.

“Thank ye for that, Sìl,” he said in a soft voice.

She hadn’t felt comfortable in her own skin since the beating. After hiding her scars for so many years, she began to feel at ease in her nakedness as Ian moved over her back with his soft, warm kisses. While he kissed her, his hands moved in circles—up and down her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts and following the lines of her waist and hips.

“Ah, Sìleas,” he said. “Ye are so beautiful. I want to touch every inch of ye.”

Gòrdan and other men had told her she was beautiful, but she had never felt it. Ian’s hands made her almost believe it. His touch was reverential and soothed her.

More, his acceptance began to heal the scar on her heart.

Five years ago, Ian’s harsh words on the day of their wedding had been like the sting of alcohol on her fresh wounds. They had deepened the scar inside her. Perhaps that was the reason only he could heal her.

Ian moved off her to lie beside her, turning her with him so that she felt the comforting heat of his body down her back and all around her. She closed her eyes, following the movement of his hand up her thigh and over the swell of her hip to her waist.

Then she felt something hard and urgent pressing against her backside—and her sense of peacefulness vanished. Her heart was beating twice as fast as before. Despite Ian’s statement that he did not intend to take her virginity—this time—she suddenly felt her vulnerability, lying naked in bed next to an aroused man.

She licked her lips. “While this has all been verra pleasant, I should get up now.”

She managed to sit up, but Ian sat up with her.

“Not yet,” Ian said with a firm hand on her hip. “Trust me.”

“I can guess what comes next,” she said and tried to wriggle away from him.

“I don’t think ye can,” he said, pulling her closer. “But I’m looking forward to showing ye.”

She turned to face him. “I know ye feel guilty for things that aren’t your fault—like your father’s lost leg and the scars on my back—and for a few things that may be your fault. But ye can’t fix them by tying yourself to me now.”

“I told ye, I won’t take it that far,” he said, cupping her face with his hand. “I know you’re not ready. Ye can trust me.”

Trust him or no, she let him coax her back down on the bed. She lay on her side again, with him behind her.

“I can smell summer heather on your skin,” he said, as he nuzzled her neck.

She held her breath as his hand moved up her belly, then let it out in a small gasp when his hand encompassed her breast. All her senses were ajar, with the heat of him surrounding her, pressed against her everywhere. His breathing grew harsh as he planted hot, wet kisses on the side of her throat. Then he held her tight against him so that her body moved with his in a slow rocking motion.

“I do want ye,” he said in her ear. “Tell me ye know that.”

“Aye.” For certain he did, but he’d likely want any woman who was pressed up against him naked in bed.

He distracted her by rubbing his thumb over her nipple. The sensations shot to somewhere deep in her belly. Then he turned her on her back and took her breast in his mouth.

Did all men know to do this? She was breathing too fast. She was arching her back, her body begging him not to stop, as the sensations ripped through her and settled in a dull ache between her legs.

She wanted to feel his skin against hers. “Can ye not take off your shirt?”

“Do ye want to kill me, lass?” he asked, but he sat up and whipped his shirt off.

When he pulled her into his arms, she clenched her teeth, savoring the delicious sensation of his hard muscles and rough chest hair against her breasts. He kissed her until she felt as if she were floating.

His tongue moved against hers as he ran his fingers in slow circles from her hip to the top of her thigh. Each time his fingers brushed the place that ached between her legs it caused a burst of sensation. She felt so sensitive there it almost hurt—and yet she nearly groaned in disappointment each time his hand moved away.

When he finally slid his fingers between her legs, the word “Aye!” came out of her mouth. Ian made a low sound in his throat and clamped his mouth over hers.

This wasn’t the slow, sensual kiss of before but greedy, demanding. While he ravished her mouth, his fingers did a magic dance between her legs. She held on to him, wanting him closer, closer still, as the silvery sensations cascaded through her.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her with eyes that were dark with blue fire. “I want to see ye find your release,” he said in a ragged voice. “Do ye know what that is?”

It was hard to concentrate with what he was doing to her with his hand, but she managed to shake her head.

“I want to give ye such pleasure that ye cry out.”

“Do ye?” she asked doubtfully. “Are ye sure?”

“Oh, aye,” he said, giving her a wicked smile that made her toes curl. “Trust me. Let me do this.”

He gave her another deep kiss. Then he was running his tongue between her breasts, circling her nipple, all the while working his magic fingers between her legs. When he took her breast into his mouth and sucked, she heard herself making high-pitched pleading sounds. Whatever he was doing, she wanted more. Sensations coursed through her until every fiber in her being was strained with tension, waiting for something, something more.

Her body felt as if she might snap in two, but Ian was relentless.

And then she burst into a thousand pieces. She heard herself cry out as her body clenched in a spasm of intense pleasure that left her shaking. Before she could catch her breath, Ian was kissing her with a need and an urgency that sent a new surge of desire pulsing through her. His hands were everywhere, squeezing, stroking, as he devoured her with his kisses.

When he rolled on top of her and urged her legs apart with his knee, she didn’t remind him of his promise. She wanted what he wanted. She wanted him inside her, to be joined with him, to be one with him.

A tear slid down the side of her face because this was Ian, the man who was always meant to be her husband. The man she wanted to be her first lover and her last. It could only be Ian. Always Ian, and no other.

When his shaft touched her center, desire surged through her like a wave crashing onto the shore. She pulled on his shoulders, urging him forward.

But he lifted his body away from hers and dropped his head to rest his forehead lightly on her breast bone. Her body was so tense that his breath prickled her damp skin.

“I’m trying hard to remember my promise,” he said.

“I want ye to forget it. Please, Ian.”

But he moved off her and dropped onto his back beside her. The air was charged with the tension between their bodies, and they were both gasping for breath.

“I just needed to stop a moment,” he said.

She turned and tentatively rested her hand on the flat of his stomach. He started at her touch, then took her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss her fingers.

He rolled to face her and laid his hand against her cheek. “Did ye like that?”

“Aye.” She flushed, feeling embarrassed.

“Ye were wonderful to watch,” he said, running his hand over her hair. “I love the sounds ye made, and the feel of ye under my hands.”

At his words, she felt the tension growing in her again. She swallowed. The intensity of his eyes on hers made it worse. When he put his hand between her legs again, her breath hitched.

Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he said, “I like that ye are hot and wet for me, Sìl. You’re a beautiful woman. You’re everything I want.”

“I don’t know what to do. Shouldn’t I…” She tried to hold on to the thought, but Ian was moving his fingers in that way that made it impossible to think of anything else.

“No love. This time is just for you,” he said, as he rolled her on her back.

Then Ian’s mouth was on hers, and she let herself be swept away by the magic.

CHAPTER 17

Ian greeted each man at the door of the church to be sure no one entered they didn’t trust.

“Father Brian, it was brave of ye to agree to let us meet here,” Ian said when the priest arrived. “But ye didn’t need to risk coming here yourself tonight.”

“I prayed over it, and God approves,” the priest said, and went inside. Ian had heard the priest had a woman, and he supposed God had approved that as well.

It was time to begin.

Ian stepped out into the night and listened. When he heard nothing but the howl of the wind, he went back inside and signaled to Connor that all was ready.

Duncan and Alex joined him at the back, where they would be the first to meet any uninvited guests, while Connor took his place at the front. Because of the church’s close proximity to Dunscaith Castle, only two candles were lit, one on either side of Connor. The men who were milling about found seats, and the room grew quiet. Although the rest of the church was in deep shadow, Ian sensed that all eyes were on Connor.

“You have come here tonight,” Connor said in a voice that filled the church, “because the MacKinnons have stolen Knock Castle from us, and ye know we must take it back.”

Several of the men shouted and raised their fists or banged their claymores on the floor.

“Ye served my father when he was chieftain,” Connor said when they grew quiet again.

“And he damned well wouldn’t have let the MacKinnons take what belongs to us!” This outburst from one of the older men was followed by a loud murmur of agreement.

“We need Knock Castle to protect our lands to the east from invaders,” Connor said. “It is a danger to all our homes not to have it in MacDonald hands.”

Ian smiled in appreciation of how simply Connor put the matter before the men. He spoke a truth they all knew, in contrast to Hugh, who lied through his teeth whether he needed to or not.

“For the clan’s protection, we must take it back,” Connor said, and again there were murmurs of approval. “The question is how to go about it without a chieftain to lead us.”

“It’s time we had a chieftain willing to fight for us,” one man shouted.

It was, but Connor was wise enough not to make that move yet.

Connor let the rumble grow before he put his hands up for silence. “Hugh has declared himself chieftain,” he said, reinforcing in their minds that Hugh had not yet been chosen by the clan. “I don’t want to put anyone in the position of going against the man who may well become our chieftain.”

There were grumblings. So far, this was going just as they hoped.

“While Hugh has refused to fight for Knock Castle, he never said that others should not.”

Connor paused to give the men time to consider this and come to the conclusion he wanted. He was good at this.

“There is one man here who has a clear right to that castle,” Connor said. “And I say that a man with a right need not wait for his chieftain to act on his behalf, if he believes he can accomplish the deed himself.”

Several men turned to peer at Ian in the shadows at the back of the church.

“And if some of his clansmen wish to lend him a hand, all the better!”

There were shouts of “Aye! Aye!”

One man stepped into the center aisle of the church and waited to speak until Connor acknowledged him with a nod.

“If ye are speaking of Ian MacDonald, he has no right to Knock Castle.”

As soon as the man opened his mouth, Ian knew it was that damned Gòrdan.

“It is Sìleas who is the heir—Sìleas, and then her child. So far as I know,” Gòrdan said, turning to look down the aisle at Ian, “the lass is no carrying Ian’s child.”

A child would make Ian’s right certain. For now, he was claiming it on behalf of Sìleas and their future children.

“Ian’s only been back a week,” Alex shouted. “Give the man some time.”

Alex’s remark caused a round of laughter and an easing of the tension that Gòrdan’s interruption had caused.

But Gòrdan wasn’t finished.

“Ian deserted her,” Gòrdan said. “If Sìleas has decided to take a different husband, no one can blame her.”

“She has done no such thing, nor will she!” Ian struggled to shake off Duncan’s arm so he could go up there and smash Gòrdan’s face in.

“All I know,” Gòrdan said, turning around again to be sure Ian didn’t miss his words, “is that a man cannot get a woman with child if she’s no sharing his bed.”

This time, Ian broke free from Duncan’s grip. He landed on Gòrdan, and the two crashed to the floor—but he only got in a few punches before Connor and Alex pulled him off. When Gòrdan sprang to his feet and tried to swing at him, Duncan caught Gòrdan from behind and held him.

“If ye haven’t bedded her yet,” Connor hissed an inch from Ian’s face, “see that ye do before we gather the men to take the castle.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ian said between his teeth, as he glared at his cousin.

“As for you, Gòrdan MacDonald,” Connor said, turning and grabbing Gòrdan by the front of his shirt. “If ye think Sìleas might choose you instead, I suggest ye keep your mouth shut and your sword sharp for the fight for her castle.”

“Sìleas is my wife,” Ian said, locking eyes with Gòrdan. “If Gòrdan wants to take her, he’ll have to kill me first.”

Ian shrugged Connor off and pushed past the others to stand at the front of the room.

“A MacDonald fights for what belongs to him,” he shouted to the gathered men. “I ask you to join me in the fight for Knock Castle for the sake of our clan. But whether ye do or not, I will take it. For I am a MacDonald, and I keep what is mine.”

Ian let his gaze travel slowly around the room, then drew his claymore and held it high. “I am Ian MacDonald, husband of Sìleas, and I Will Take Knock Castle!”

The floorboards of the church vibrated with the thumping of feet and the pounding of claymores as the men shouted with him, shaking the building with their battle cry.

“Knock Castle! Knock Castle! Knock Castle!”

CHAPTER 18

When Sìleas saw Ian and Alex coming up the path, she grabbed her cloak and ran out to meet them.

“Where have ye been?” she asked, taking Ian’s arm and smiling up at him.

Alex waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned, as if he were responsible for the change between her and Ian.

“We stayed with Connor and Duncan last night,” Ian said. “I confess we drank too much to make our way home.”

Sìleas clicked her tongue. “Well, at least you’re not lying to me about it.”

Ian halted in the middle of the path, his eyes as warm as summer on her face. “I missed ye last night.”

Alex took the hint and went on ahead toward the house.

“We need to talk,” Ian said. “Not here.”

Her heart did a little flip in her chest, knowing Ian wanted to settle things between them. She was ready. After staying awake half the night thinking about it, she had made her decision.

She felt a nervous excitement as Ian led her down the path to the small beach below the house. Hopeful. That was what she felt. When he’d taken her upstairs, he had shown her the man she knew he could be, the man she believed in.

She couldn’t fool herself into believing Ian loved her; he had other reasons for wanting to be her husband. But there was so much caring in his touch that she had reason to hope that one day he would. Even if he never did love her as she loved him, Ian had convinced her that he valued her and that he was determined to be a good husband to her from now forward.

It was too late, in any case. If she was going to leave him, she should have done it before he took her upstairs yesterday. He may have left her a virgin, but she’d lost her innocence. She longed to feel his weight on top of her again, to run her fingers over the muscles of his back, to see the stars spark against her eyelids as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

What woman in her right mind could say no to the whole cake once she’d had a taste of that? The thought of sharing a bed with Ian every night sent tingles all the way to her toes.

Sìleas smiled to herself and fingered the special stone in her pocket for luck. When they reached the beach, Ian led her to the old lean-to that was hidden in the trees above the tide line. After ducking inside, they settled themselves on the low bench in the midst of a familiar assortment of fishing nets, ropes, and scraps for mending sails.

“I meant it when I said I missed ye,” Ian said, fixing his intense blue eyes on her.

“I missed ye, too.”

“I’ll always want ye by my side,” he said. “And I don’t want to go another night without ye in my bed.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to finish.

“What I’m saying—what I’m asking, I mean—is if ye are willing to be my true wife, starting tonight.” He fumbled inside his plaid. “Here, I have something to give ye.”

He took her hand and dropped a small silver ring into it.

“I didn’t have a ring for ye the day we wed,” he said. “I want to make that right now.”

Sìleas turned it over in her palm, the traditional gift of a man to his bride. She ran her fingertip around the circle, the symbol of never-ending love. The ring was formed to resemble two ropes twisted together, intertwined as a couple’s life would be.

“I know our wedding was no what it should have been,” Ian said.

Sìleas had to laugh at that. “ ’Twas the worst day of my life.”

Ian made a face. “It couldn’t have been as bad as that.”

“It was,” she said. “Don’t ye remember that gown your mother put me in?”

Ian’s mouth twitched. “Three of ye could have fit inside it.”

“And the color!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing could have been worse.”

Though they were laughing, it was a bitter memory for both of them. Still, it made Sìleas feel better to talk about it.

“But ye did get the man ye wanted, aye?” Ian said, squeezing her shoulders and giving her a wink.

“Having the groom say his vows with the point of a dirk in his back is not what a lass dreams of when she imagines her wedding day.”

Ian’s expression turned serious. “I’ll make it all up to ye. The ring is just the start.”

Looking into Ian’s eyes was like being pulled into the sea—and she wanted to go wherever the current took her.

“I’m ready to be a good husband to ye,” he said, taking her hand. “Tell me ye want to be my wife.”

“I do.”

Ian took the ring from her hand and slipped it onto her finger.

“It looks good on ye,” he said, and raised her hand to his mouth. His lips were warm and soft on her fingers, reminding Sìleas of how they had felt on her belly.

She swallowed. “I have a gift for ye as well.”

When his eyebrows shot up, she was pleased that she had surprised him. She pulled the crystal out of her pocket and held it out for him to see. It was no bigger than her thumb and a lovely misty color that was like seeing a green sea through a thick fog.

“Do ye know what it is?” she asked.

“A wee stone?” Ian said with a grin.

“It’s a charm stone,” she said in a hushed voice. “The MacDonald Crystal.”

“I thought it was lost.” He took it gingerly between his fingers and held it up, trying to see through it. “Isn’t this the one they say was brought back from the Holy Land by Crusaders?”

“Aye. My grandmother had it.” Sìleas dropped her gaze to her hands resting in her lap. “Ye see, she didn’t like my father, and she knew my mother was weak. To keep it out of his hands, she gave it to the old seer to save for me. Teàrlag gave it to me after I came to live with your family. She says it protects the wearer.”

“Then ye must keep it.” Ian put the crystal in her hand, then closed his hand over hers.

Sìleas met his gaze and shook her head. “Ye tell me ye will protect me, and I believe ye. But who will protect you? This is my wedding gift to ye, and so ye must take it.”

It was the most precious thing she owned. By giving it to him, she was showing him that she trusted him with her life—and with her heart.

“I will guard it and you,” he said, meeting her eyes.

“Teàrlag made this pouch to keep it in.” She pulled the leather thong from her pocket. “She said words over it to enhance the strength of the crystal.”

Sìleas did not add that Teàrlag told her that if she slept with it next to her own heart first, his heart would remember hers. She hoped it was true.

When she opened the pouch for him, Ian dropped the crystal inside it. Tears stung at the back of her eyes as she reached up to put it around his neck.

She placed her hand over the pouch, where it rested over his heart.

“I can feel your heartbeat through it,” she said, looking up at him. “Keep it close and be safe for me.”

Ian gathered her in his arms. His breath was warm in her ear as he whispered, “Thank ye, Sìleas.”

They held each other for a long while.

Then Ian kissed her softly and said, “I’ll come to you tonight, then.”

“Aye. Tonight.”

Tonight. The start of their new life together.

CHAPTER 19

“Such a lovely babe Annie has,” Sìleas said, as she walked arm in arm with Beitris on their way home from their visit to the neighbors. “Niall, it was sweet of ye to come with us.”

Ian had planned to accompany them until Payton asked him to practice in the yard. It would be Payton’s first attempt to use his claymore since his injury.

“You’re looking happy today,” her mother-in-law said, and winked at her. “Maybe you’ll have a babe of your own to show off by this time next year.”

Sìleas’s heart lifted at the thought. Beitris had guessed that everything had changed between her and Ian—and was almost as happy about it as Sìleas.

When Niall gave her a searching glance, she blushed. She wasn’t about to tell Niall that she and Ian were going to start sharing a marriage bed, though he and the rest of the household would know it by morning.

“Ach, look who’s coming,” Niall said with a sour look on his face.

It was Gòrdan, and he was marching straight for them, looking like a man with something on his mind that would not keep. Sìleas took in a deep breath. She had feared they would see him, coming or going, since they had to walk past his house to get to Annie’s.

“ ’Tis best to set him straight,” Beitris said in her ear just before Gòrdan reached them.

“Beitris. Niall.” Gòrdan gave them each a brief nod. “Sìleas, may I have a word with ye? It’s important.”

“We’ll walk slow,” Beitris said to her. “Ye can catch up to us when you’re done with your chat.”

Gòrdan gave Sìleas a warm, hopeful smile that made her feel wretched. Beitris was right—’twas time to tell Gòrdan that things were settled between her and Ian. Gòrdan was a good man, and she owed him that.

“I can’t go out walking with ye anymore,” she said. “I’ve made my decision to stay with Ian.”

“Say ye don’t mean it.” His eyes were wild as he gripped her arms. “Tell me it’s not too late, that ye haven’t given yourself to him yet.”

She flushed, remembering all the things Ian had done to her. Though she was still a virgin, she had, indeed, given herself to him.

“Ian doesn’t deserve ye,” Gòrdan said. “He doesn’t love ye as I do.”

Ach, he was not making this easy. “Ian says he’s ready to be a good husband to me, and I believe him.”

“With his pretty face, Ian can have any of the lasses,” Gòrdan said, waving his arm out to the side as if there were a line of women standing there. “But you should have a man who sees ye for the special woman that ye are.”

She didn’t want to hurt him, but softening the message would not help Gòrdan accept it.

“Ian cares for me,” she said.

“Is that what he tells ye?” Gòrdan said, raising his voice. “It hurts me to see ye believe his lies.”

“Stop it, Gòrdan. I know ye are upset, but you’ve no cause to call Ian a liar.”

“You’ve always had a weakness for Ian, and it’s made ye blind,” he said, shaking his head. “What Ian values ye for is your lands.”

“No. That’s not true.”

“He’s come back to Skye to help Connor take the chieftainship.” Gòrdan’s voice was rough with emotion. “That’s all this is about.”

Icy fingers of doubt crept over her heart. “No, Ian wants to be my husband.”

“Is that why he stayed away five years?” he asked. “Ye know Ian would do anything for Connor, and Connor wants your castle back in MacDonald hands.”

“What are ye saying, Gòrdan?”

“The four of them—Connor, Ian, Alex, and Duncan—held a secret meeting last night in the church.”

A shiver of fear went up her spine. “What about? Are they going to fight Hugh?”

“Connor is a clever one. He knows it’s too soon to challenge his uncle directly,” Gòrdan said. “Instead, he has Ian—as your husband—be the one to call on the men to take Knock Castle.”

Why had no one told her of the plan to oust her stepfather from her castle? Why had Ian not told her? Instead, he’d led her to believe he’d spent the night drinking with Connor and the others.

“The four of them have it all planned out,” Gòrdan said, raising his arms. “They know how much losing Knock Castle hurt the clan’s pride. Men came last night because they are angry that Hugh has not called for an attack. They all went home believing that unlike Hugh, Connor would never turn his back while our enemies took what belongs to us.”

“Connor wouldn’t,” she said in a low voice.

“I’m telling ye,” Gòrdan said, “the whole purpose of taking Knock Castle is to rally the men into supporting Connor for the chieftainship.”

Sìleas felt like her throat was closing. Her voice came out high and tight as she asked, “Are ye saying this meeting was last night?”

“Aye.”

And Ian had come back this morning with a ring, saying he didn’t want to wait another night to be her true husband. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a sandbar with the sand sliding out from beneath her feet.

“Connor needs a man with a husband’s claim to justify the attack,” Gòrdan said. “That is the reason Ian is claiming ye now.”

In the back of her head, she heard Ian’s voice. There is nothing I would not do for Connor.

Still, she said, “That doesn’t mean Ian doesn’t care for me.”

“What Ian cares about,” Gòrdan said, “is being the hero who saved the clan by putting Connor in the chieftainship.”

His words rang true in her heart, for she knew Ian had a burning need to redeem himself.

“Just because Ian wants to help the clan doesn’t mean that’s the only reason he wants to be my husband.”

“I’m telling ye,” Gòrdan said, “Ian wants ye so he has the right to claim your lands and castle.”

“That wasn’t enough to make him want to wed me five years ago, and I was heir to Knock Castle then.” She could hear the desperation in her voice.

“That was before Flodden. Before Connor’s father and brother died. Before Hugh Dubh took the chieftainship.” Gòrdan hit each point relentlessly. “And it was before Connor had a chance at becoming chieftain.”

She shook her head because she didn’t want to believe it.

“Connor ordered Ian to take ye to bed, so he would have a husband’s right to take Knock Castle,” Gòrdan said. “I heard Connor say it.”

I’ll do whatever it takes, for the sake of the clan. There is nothing I would not do for Connor.

“Ian told Connor not to worry, he would ‘take care of it.’ ”

She felt her checks flush with mortification.

“Ye know I’ve never lied to ye,” he said.

“I won’t hear this,” she said, backing away from him.

“You’ve been a fool for Ian for five years,” Gòrdan said. “I’m begging ye, don’t be a fool for him for the rest of your life.”

The long years of waiting still hurt. And for certain, Ian had not been faithful to her while he was in France. Did a ring and a few soft words make up for that?

“For God’s sake, Sìleas, open your eyes and see the man for what he is.” Gòrdan drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “If ye change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

Her lip trembled as she watched Gòrdan turn away and walk up the path toward his home. No, she would not believe it. She knew Ian’s heart. He wouldn’t deceive her.

But as she ran toward the house, all she could remember was that Ian had not once told her he loved her.

CHAPTER 20

Ian hummed to himself as he poured the second pot of boiling water into the tub. In a wink, he stripped and tossed his dirty clothes into the corner, then settled into the steaming water with a long, satisfied sigh.

Tonight. Tonight would be the night he consummated his marriage and tied Sìleas to him for life. He wanted it all to be perfect for her. Of course, he couldn’t be sweet-smelling like Sìleas, but at least he would be clean for her. He’d bring a flask of wine up to their bedchamber and set the room ablaze with candles.

He rested his head against the back of the tub and smiled to himself, thinking of the night ahead.

Damn. Was that the front door opening? With his da asleep and everyone else gone to see the neighbors’ new babe, he expected to have the house to himself a while longer. Ach, he’d best get down to business before the women came into the kitchen to fix supper.

He sat up and scrubbed his face. After he dunked his head in the water to rinse the soap off, he felt fingers in his hair.

“Sìleas,” he said, smiling like a fool with his eyes closed and water streaming down his face.

She laid her hands on his shoulders, and he sighed as she slid them down his chest. But something was not quite right… He sat bolt upright and spun around—and discovered it wasn’t Sìleas who had her hands on him.

“Dina. What are ye doing here?”

“What’s this?” Dina snapped the cord that held the crystal over his head before he could think to grab her arm to stop her.

“Ye need to leave—ye can see I’m bathing.” He held his hand out. “Give that back to me before ye go.”

She swung it in front of him, just out of his reach, then laughed and put it around her neck. “This would be a lovely gift for ye to give me in return for what I’m going to give ye.”

“We’re not giving each other anything, Dina,” he said, losing his patience with her. “Now give that back to me.”

“You didn’t ask what I was going to give ye.” She ran her finger down the cord to where the pouch that held the crystal lay in the cleavage between her breasts.

“By the saints, Dina, what do ye think ye are doing?”

“I couldn’t help noticing ye been sleeping in the old cottage,” she said. “Seems a shame to sleep alone, when ye don’t have to.”

“I’m not interested in what ye are offering,” he said. “Now give me that and go.”

He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of the skirt of her gown and pulled. “Give it to me.”

She must have unfastened her gown already, because she stepped out of it as the damn thing came away in his hands. He looked up from the gown clenched in his fingers to see her standing in her chemise. Then, before he could say a word, the chemise was off.

Now, he was a man. He didn’t mean to look. She wasn’t the woman he wanted. But Dina did have attractive… attributes. And she was standing right in front of him stark naked. It didn’t help matters that Sìleas left him in a constant state of frustration.

Against his will, his cock sprang to life. That did not mean he intended to use it.

“I want ye to give me that back, get your clothes on, and leave the kitchen, so I can finish my bath and get dressed.”

“Come and take it.” As she intended, his eyes went to the pouch, which was lying between her naked breasts.

He looked around for the towel. Damn, he’d left it on the stool on the other side of the table. Dina must have followed his gaze, for she ran around the table, breasts bobbing, and snatched up it up.

Ach! He wanted to strangle the woman.

“If ye will not get dressed and leave, then I will.” He clenched the sides of the tub, hoisted himself up, and stepped out of the tub, streaming water. He was reaching for his clean shirt on the table when he heard a commotion behind him and turned.

Sìleas’s scream filled the small room as he saw her in the doorway. Her eyes were impossibly wide, and she was screaming as if someone had stabbed her.

“Sìleas,” Ian started for her, but then her gaze dropped to his groin and she screamed again. He’d forgotten he was naked. He grabbed his shirt from the table and covered himself. Although she was a virgin, he hadn’t expected her to get this upset by her first good look at him naked.

“It’s all right, Sìl,” he said, walking toward her.

She backed away, not with fright in her eyes, as he expected, but with such hurt that his heart felt pinched in his chest.

When her gaze moved from him to fix on something behind him, he remembered Dina. In his concern for Sìleas, he had forgotten all about that damned woman. And then he realized what this must look like to Sìleas—and why she screamed.

“Ye gave her my stone,” Sìleas said in a choked whisper.

Ian felt as if the walls of the room were crashing in on him, smothering him under their weight.

“No. No, I didn’t,” he said, as Sìleas turned and ran. “This is no what ye think!”

When he started after her, Niall took her place in the kitchen doorway, roaring, “Ye bastard!”

“Get out of my way,” Ian said, and shoved his brother aside.

Unfortunately, both his feet and the floor were wet. When Niall tackled him, he slipped and fell backward to the floor. Then his brother proceeded to pound his head and torso, all the while shouting, “How could ye do it! How could ye!”

Ian was sorely tempted to beat the living shite out of his baby brother when Alex finally pulled Niall off him.

“What took ye so long?” Ian said, as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Maybe I thought ye deserved it,” Alex said.

“I didn’t touch Dina.” Ian turned around and shouted at her. “Tell them I didn’t touch ye. Tell them!”

While his head was turned, Niall broke free from Alex’s hold and landed a blow to the side of Ian’s head that made his ears ring. He couldn’t see to block the next punch.

He woke up on the floor by the hearth, with his mother hovering over him and his head pounding like the devil.

“Where’s Sìl?” he said, starting to get up.

His mother put her hand on his chest. “Don’t move, or I’ll hit ye in the head myself.”

“Mam, I need to see Sìl. She thinks I did something I didn’t do.”

“Give her time to calm down,” his mother said. “Even then, you’ll have a hard time convincing her. I’ll tell ye, son, it didn’t look good.”

He supposed it didn’t—not with he and Dina both naked, and his cock at full mast.

“Maybe ye should let me talk to her,” his mother said.

“So ye believe me, mam?” He needed someone to believe him.

“You’re like your da,” she said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Once ye find the woman ye want, ye quit looking.” She turned as Alex came through the front door with a gush of cold air. “My sisters were no so lucky. I hope Connor and Alex don’t follow their fathers’ shameful examples.”

“What’s that you’re saying?” Alex said, as he crossed the room. Then he leaned over Ian, grinning. “So, are ye finally awake? Next time we go ’a fighting, I want your brother with us.”

“How long have I been lying here?” Ian bit back the nausea and sat up, despite his mother’s protests.

Alex shrugged. “An hour?”

“I want Dina gone from this house,” Ian said, as he stumbled to his feet.

God’s blood, his head hurt, but he had to talk to Sìleas. He held onto the walls as he went up the stairs. When he reached her bedchamber door, he tapped softly.

“Sìl.” He tapped again. “Sìleas. Let me explain. Please.”

Nothing.

He went back three times.

When she still refused to answer the fourth time, he said, “I’m coming in.”

He tried the door, but she’d pushed something against it. He rammed his shoulder against it, opening it a crack, but jarring his aching head something fierce. Hoping she didn’t have a skillet, he poked his head through the opening.

The stillness of the room sent a prickle of unease up the back of his neck. He could see now that it was the chest she’d pushed against the door. After giving the door another shove, he stepped inside.

As he stood in the middle of the empty room, his gaze moved slowly from the clothes strewn across the bed to the yellow gown that she had been wearing, which lay in a heap on the floor. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears against the silence of the room.

He turned to look for her cloak on the peg by the door, though he already knew it would be gone.

It was.

A blinding fury took hold of him as he guessed where she had gone—to the man waiting first in line to take her from him. After taking the stairs three at a time, he left the house without a word to the others.

By God, he was going to beat Gòrdan MacDonald to within an inch of his life. And then he was going to drag his wife back home—by her hair and screaming all the way, if he must.

CHAPTER 21

Sìleas stumbled several times on the rocky path in the dark, but she kept running, as if putting distance between her and what she saw in the kitchen could dull the sharpness of the pain in her chest. But no matter how fast she ran, the vision of Ian and Dina was always before her.

The two of them. Together. Naked.

Seeing her crystal hanging between Dina’s breasts was an even harder betrayal. She had denied Ian her bed. In time, she might have been able to forgive him for giving his body to yet another woman before they were sharing a marriage bed.

But the crystal was her wedding gift to him. It symbolized the gift of her heart, and Ian knew it.

The leather pouch tied to her waist slapped against her thigh as she ran along the dark path. She hoped she had stuffed enough coins in it to pay a fisherman to take her across the strait and buy a horse on the other side. Praise God she’d kept Niall’s old clothes for cleaning out the byre. If anyone asked, the fisherman would say he’d taken a lad across.

What was that?

Over her breathing, she heard something behind her. A wolf? A bear? She remembered Ian telling her never to run from a wild animal because it made you look like prey. Damn him! Would she never be free of Ian’s voice in her head?

She ignored it and ran faster.

The sound came closer the faster she ran. She screamed as the beast slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Its great weight landed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her and pinning her to the ground.

“Sìleas, stop kicking me! I’m trying to get off ye.”

“Niall?”

The great weight rolled off her, and she sat up, gasping great lungfuls of air. Her limbs felt weak and boneless in the aftermath of fright.

“Ye scared the life out of me!”

“Did I hurt ye?” Niall asked.

“No, but why did ye come after me? Ye saw what I saw in the kitchen, so ye know I won’t go back.”

“I couldn’t let ye go off alone, with no one to protect ye,” Niall said. “I’m coming with ye, wherever you’re going.”

She wanted to weep at his kindness but refused to let herself. Once she gave in to tears, she feared there would be no end to them.

“I can’t let ye come with me,” she said. “Your family would not be happy with ye for helping me get away.”

“Da is the one who sent me,” Niall said. “He heard ye climb out the window and told me to follow ye and keep ye safe. He gave me money, too.”

Dear Payton. This time, she did wipe a tear from her eye.

“Besides,” Niall said with a smile in his voice, “I didn’t want ye going to Gòrdan for help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Gòrdan,” she said, and wondered why she hadn’t even thought of going to him.

“There’s not enough right with him, either—not for you, Sìl.” Niall stood and helped her to her feet. “So, just where are we going?”

“To Stirling.”

Niall gave a long whistle. “That’s a fair distance. What do ye want to go there for?”

Sìleas started walking. “I’m going to ask the queen to help me obtain an annulment from the church. And while I’m there, I’ll also ask her help in removing my step-da from Knock Castle.”

She didn’t want to live in Knock Castle, but it was hers and she needed someplace to live.

“Asking the queen is a wee bit drastic, wouldn’t ye say?” Niall asked. “You’ve got cause to leave Ian under Highland law. That should be enough.”

“And before I know it, my chieftain will be telling me who I am to wed next,” she said. “I won’t let Hugh decide my fate, that is for certain. No, the only way to free myself is to put myself in the hands of someone more powerful. I praise God that happens to be a woman at the moment.”

“But ye won’t have to worry about Hugh for long,” Niall said. “Connor is going to be chieftain.”

“Connor wants Knock Castle in the hands of someone verra close to him,” she said. “He’ll decide I’ve no cause to leave Ian.”

“Connor is a fair man,” Niall said. “He’d let ye leave Ian so long as ye take another man in the clan—especially if the man is another close relative of his.”

She snorted. “Are ye suggesting Alex? I’m verra fond of him, but wedding Alex would be going from the frying pan into the fire.”

“Take me,” Niall said in a soft voice. “I’m as close a blood relation to Connor as either Ian or Alex.”

Sìleas felt as if her chest were caving in on itself. She stopped and turned to look into his face, though she could barely make out his features in the dark.

“Aw, Niall,” she said, reaching up to touch her fingers to his cheek, “ye can’t mean it.”

“What, do ye think I’m too young?” he said, sounding hurt. “Or is it that I’m not as good as my brother—even after what he’s done to ye?”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, though he was far too young. She rested her hand on his arm. “I grew up wishing every day I had brothers and sisters. Having you become a brother to me has been one of the great blessings of my life. Don’t ask me to give that up.”

“You’ve been a sister to me as well,” Niall said, and she could hear him fidgeting in the dark. “But… well, ye are so pretty that I believe I could overcome it.”

“I do appreciate the offer,” Sìleas said, taking his arm to hurry him down the path. “But I don’t believe I’ll want another husband for a verra, verra long time.”

“Where is she?” Ian shouted, as he pounded on Gòrdan’s door.

No candlelight shone in the window or under the door. If Gòrdan had taken Sìleas to his bed this very night, Ian would murder the devil’s spawn on the spot.

He pounded the door again until the windows rattled. “Come out and face me like a man!”

When the door swung open, Ian clenched his fists, ready to pound Gòrdan’s pretty face to a pulp. He choked back his fury when Gòrdan’s mother peered up at him from under her nightcap.

“I’ve come for my wife.”

“Sìleas?” Gòrdan’s mother clutched her nightshift about her throat. “Don’t tell me the lass has left ye. I always knew she was trouble.”

It occurred to him that Sìleas and Gòrdan would know this was the first place he’d look for them. If they weren’t here, then he would track them down—to hell, if need be.

“I must ask ye to step aside, so I can have a look about,” Ian said.

Gòrdan suddenly appeared behind his mother.

“What in God’s name do ye think ye are doing,” Gòrdan said, as he pushed his mother aside, “showing up at my door in the dark of night and threatening my mother?”

Ian slammed his fist into Gòrdan’s face, dropping him backward into the house. As he stepped inside, he picked Gòrdan up by the front of his shirt.

“I’ll ask ye but once,” Ian said an inch from Gòrdan’s nose. “Where have ye got my wife?”

“Sìleas? Is that what this is about?” Gòrdan said, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Has she finally left ye, then? Good for her.”

“Don’t try telling me ye didn’t know it,” Ian said, as he scanned the room. She was not in sight, so he released Gòrdan and crossed the room. “Where is she?” He stuck his head into the empty kitchen.

“No one’s here but the two of us,” Gòrdan’s mother said.

Ian heard her fumbling with the lamp. When the flame took hold, Ian caught the look of worry on Gòrdan’s face.

“She left in the night alone?” Gòrdan said. “What have ye done to her, man?”

A blade of fear cut into Ian’s belly. “Are ye telling me the truth, that ye don’t know where she is?”

“I swear it on my father’s grave,” Gòrdan said.

Ian swallowed. “I must find her before any harm comes to her.” At the door, he turned and said, “Will ye tell me if she comes here?”

“I will,” Gòrdan said. “But if Sìleas has chosen to leave ye, I won’t send her back.”

“Where could she have gone?” Ian ran his hands through his hair as he paced up and down the hall. He was always clearheaded in a crisis, but he couldn’t think at all.

“Let’s go up to her bedchamber and see if she left something that will tell us,” Alex said.

Ian ran up the stairs with Alex on his heels.

When he reached the bedchamber, he picked up her gown from the floor. Before he could stop himself, he held it to his face and breathed in her scent. He closed his eyes. Missing her was a physical pain, like a razor’s edge slicing into his heart.

How could she leave him?

“Take a look at this,” Alex said behind him.

Ian joined Alex at the small table where Sìleas kept the accounts. Alex had ruined her neat stacks, tossing the parchments haphazardly across the tabletop.

“Read this one,” Alex said, tapping his finger on a sheet that rested on top of the scattered parchments.

Ian’s heart sank as he read it. God in Heaven, what was Sìleas thinking? It was a letter to the queen, begging for her support in obtaining an annulment from one Ian MacDonald. She also asked for the crown’s assistance in removing her stepfather from her castle and lands.

“It looks as though this was her first attempt,” Alex said, pointing to where the ink was smudged. “I didn’t find her final version.”

“She must have taken it with her.” The realization of where she had gone struck Ian with the force of a blow to the chest. “God help me, she’s headed for Stirling.”

Ian heard light steps on the stairs and turned to see his mother in the doorway. She remained there, worrying her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Niall is gone as well.”

It took Ian a long moment to take in the meaning of his mother’s words. “Niall? Niall is with Sìleas?”

“Your da says it’s good that she’s not alone,” his mother said.

“God’s blood!” Ian stormed up and down the bedchamber, feeling like a trapped animal. “What can the two of them be thinking? Stirling is not a jaunt down the road—it’s a journey of several days. Christ above, they could be murdered along the way!”

Visions filled his head of Sìleas raped, the pair of them mercilessly beaten, and their mutilated bodies left beside the road for wild animals to feed upon.

“Niall is good with a sword,” Alex said, guessing the direction of Ian’s thoughts. “I’m sure your father taught him, same as he did you, to watch for trouble and travel unseen.”

His mother’s gaze rested on the yellow gown that was somehow still clenched in Ian’s hand, then shifted to the bed. “Niall’s old clothes that she wears to muck out the barn are gone. I washed them and left them folded on the bed for her.”

“With Sìleas dressed like a lad, the risk is no so great,” Alex said.

“Even if they do manage to reach Stirling in one piece,” Ian said, raising his hands, “the town itself is a hive of hornets.”

The untimely death of James IV at Flodden had left Scotland with a babe as king and his mother, the sister of the hated English king, as regent. Ian didn’t need the Sight to know that powerful and ruthless men would be at court vying for control of the babe and his mother.

“I’m going after them,” Ian said, starting toward the stairs. “And when I find them, I’m going to murder them myself.”

Alex caught up with him in the hall. “It won’t take us long to collect Connor and Duncan,” he said.

Ian shook his head. “No. I don’t know how long this will take, and the gathering for Samhain is only a fortnight away. The three of ye must stay here and make certain Connor is chosen chieftain.”

“We’re coming with ye.” Alex put on his cap and lifted his mantle from one of the pegs by the door. “There’s time to make it to Stirling and back, if we’re quick.”

Ian met his cousin’s sea-green eyes, which were solemn for once.

“Connor and Duncan will say the same.” Alex said.

Ian nodded his thanks and went out the door.

CHAPTER 22

Sìleas held onto Niall’s arm as they walked their horses through the crowded, cobbled streets of Stirling. Despite being exhausted and filthy after days of travel, she stared about her. She’d never been in a town of this size before.

“Can ye let go of my arm?” Niall said in a low voice. “I don’t like the way people are looking at us, with ye dressed like a lad and all.”

Sìleas snatched her hand away. In her amazement, she had forgotten her disguise.

“It looks like a palace built for the gods,” she said, looking up at Stirling Castle.

They had seen it for miles before they reached the town, perched on top of the towering rock cliffs that protected it on three sides. The side of the castle that faced the town was the only way it could be approached, and this was protected by a curtain wall and massive gatehouse.

“What if the queen isn’t here?” Niall asked. “The royal family has more than one castle, ye know.”

“Your da says that if the queen has any sense at all, this is where she’s brought the baby king,” Sìleas said. “He says not even the English can take Stirling Castle.”

They retraced their steps to a tavern at the edge of town that had guest rooms upstairs and a stable behind for their horses. After paying for the night, they took their supper in the tavern.

Sìleas had never been among so many strangers in her life. Most of the men spoke in Scots, the English spoken by Lowlanders. Although she knew some Scots, they spoke it far too quickly for her to understand much. Most wore the English style of clothes.

“Will ye stop staring at their codpieces,” Niall hissed and pushed her cap lower over her eyes. “You’re going to get us hurt—or an unpleasant invitation.”

Sìleas stifled a laugh behind her hand. She had heard that English noblemen wore a padded cloth over their private parts, but she had not truly believed it.

“I’ll need a bath before visiting the queen.” She looked down at her own clothes and sniffed. “I smell of horse, and that’s the best part.”

“I’ll ask the tavern keeper to send up water,” Niall said, getting to his feet. “It’ll cost extra.”

Sometime later, she saw a woman carrying two sloshing buckets up the stairs—the closest to a washing those stairs had gotten in a long, long while.

She and Niall followed the woman up to a small, serviceable room with a single cot. After warning Sìleas to bar the door, Niall returned to the tavern to wait while she had her bath.

Sìleas shook out the blue gown she’d stuffed in her cloth bag, pleased that in the chaos of her flight she had thought to bring her best gown for court. After spreading it out on the cot to air, she scrubbed herself clean as best she could in the small wooden tub and put on the chemise she would wear under the gown tomorrow.

When Niall returned, he insisted she take the cot. She lay with her back to him while he took his turn washing in the same water. When he was finished, he wrapped himself in his plaid on the floor in front of the door.

She blew out the candle and tried to make herself comfortable in the strange bed.

“Thanks for coming with me, Niall,” she said into the darkness. “I don’t believe I could have gotten here without ye.”

“To tell ye the truth, I’m not sure we should have come at all,” Niall said. “The town is filled with Lowlanders and worse—there are English here, starting with the queen herself. We’ve no notion what we’re getting into. Perhaps we’d best go home and solve your problems there.”

“After coming all this way, I’m going to see the queen,” Sìleas said, but she closed her eyes and prayed hard for guidance. Was Niall right? Was coming here a mistake? She had never been this far from Skye. And she felt guilty for bringing Niall with her.

Niall was silent so long that she thought he had fallen asleep, when he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we saw in the kitchen.”

“And what about that did ye find worth considering?” she asked, her voice coming out sharp.

“Well, what if Ian was just taking a bath, and Dina came in, unexpected?” Niall said, hesitation in his voice. “Ye saw the tub, and Ian dripping water.”

“Ye failed to mention that Dina was naked as well,” Sìleas said between her teeth. “And don’t try to tell me ye didn’t notice.”

“I could hardly help that, now could I? And at first I believed the same as you about what they were up to in the kitchen.” From the discomfort in Niall’s voice, she could tell he’d rather be rubbed with stinging nettles than discussing this with her. “But ye see, Dina is the sort of woman to drop her clothes without a man even asking.”

Sìleas sat up in the bed and glared down at the dark shape on the floor. “And how would ye know this, Niall MacDonald?”

“Well… Dina did it for me,” he said.

Sìleas’s mouth fell open. How dare Dina work her wiles on Niall? He was a boy still—despite being over six feet tall.

And Dina’s tendency to shed her clothes did not explain how the MacDonald Crystal ended up around her neck.

“Are ye expecting me to believe nothing happened in that kitchen?” she snapped. “Is that what happened when Dina took her clothes off for you, Niall? Nothing?”

Niall’s silence confirmed his guilt.

“Your mother would be ashamed of ye.” Sìleas lay back down and punched her pillow a few times to fluff it.

“I am not a married man,” Niall said. “And what I do with a willing woman is no concern of my mother’s.”

“Hmmph. I’m disgusted with the lot of ye,” she said, turning her back on him and pulling the blanket up to her ears.

The noise from the tavern below was all that interrupted the long silence between them, until, finally, Niall spoke again.

“If I had a wife like you, Sìl, I wouldn’t have taken what Dina offered.” Niall paused. “That’s why I keep thinking that maybe Ian didn’t do anything he shouldn’t have. Maybe ye ought to give him a chance to tell ye what happened.”

Sìleas tossed and turned on the narrow cot half the night, slapping at the bugs in the straw mattress and thinking of what Niall had said. She had such an abiding weakness for Ian MacDonald that she could almost believe anything that would absolve him.

When she felt her resolve begin to fade, she made herself remember seeing Ian in all his naked glory, his cock standing at the ready, and Dina right behind him without a stitch on—except for the pouch with Sìleas’s crystal hanging between her breasts.

Every time she managed to set aside her thoughts about Ian and Dina, she tossed and turned, worrying about meeting the queen. Was she on a fool’s errand, bringing her problem to the queen? Ach, but she was tired of men deciding what to do with her. A woman was bound to be more concerned with her than with her castle.

Even if the queen chose not to help her, what harm could there be in asking?

When Sìleas got tired of slapping at the bugs and chasing her thoughts in endless circles, she got up and lay on the hard floor a little ways from Niall. She was grateful to him for staying with her and respecting her decision, even if what she did seemed foolish to him.

By annulling her marriage to Ian, she would also sever her formal tie with Niall. That was one more loss, and a hard one. She lay listening to him breathing, knowing Niall would always be the brother of her heart. She hoped he felt the same and that she would not lose him as well.

CHAPTER 23

Sìleas paced the tiny room above the tavern, regretting with every turn that she had let Niall talk her into waiting here while he delivered her letter to the castle. At the sound of a knock, she picked up her dirk from the bed and put her ear to the door.

“Sìleas, let me in.”

It was Niall, so she slid the bolt back. “I was worried half to death. What took ye so long?”

“Don’t ye look fine, now,” Niall said, taking in her gown.

“Tell me what happened,” she said. “Will the queen see me?”

“The guards laughed at me when I told them I would wait for the queen’s answer,” Niall said, as he dropped onto the cot. “But an hour later, they gave me the message that the queen will see us this morning.”

Sìleas’s stomach suddenly felt as if she had eaten a pound of lead instead of watery porridge for breakfast. She was actually going to see the queen.

“I’ve no mirror,” she said. “Can ye help me with my hair?”

Niall’s eyes went wide, but he dutifully took the pins from her hand. After she twisted her wild waves into a coil at the back of her head, he stood behind her and attempted to pin it in place. Niall could shoot a straight arrow, but he turned out to be all thumbs when it came to hair.

“I’ll just tie it back with my ribbon,” she said when it kept falling loose after three attempts. After she finished, she turned in a circle. “Do ye think this will do for court?”

“You’re sure to be the loveliest lass there,” Niall said, giving her a wide smile.

As they walked up the steep hill through the town to the castle, unease crept up Sìleas’s spine and slowed her steps. No wonder Payton said the baby king would be safe in Stirling Castle. The gatehouse, which projected out from the curtain wall to form the castle’s fortified entrance, was enormous. Sìleas’s gaze traveled from the gatehouse’s four round towers to the equally massive square towers at the corners of the wall that faced the town.

“We can go home,” Niall said. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“We’ve come this far,” she said. “It would be discourteous to refuse the queen’s invitation—especially after I asked for it.”

They crossed the drawbridge and showed their summons to the men standing guard at the entrance between the first two round towers. After checking the seal on the letter, the guards waved them through.

Sìleas felt as if she couldn’t breathe inside the gatehouse with tons of stone above and on either side of her. As they passed through it, she saw that there was yet another set of massive round towers facing the interior of the castle. The pressure on her chest eased as they emerged into the light on the other side.

“This is where I waited yesterday,” Niall said. “It’s called the Outer Close.”

In front of them was a building made of shining pink stone that was so beautiful it took Sìleas’s breath away. The building was immense, yet graceful, with high windows and slender towers that appeared to be decorative rather than defensive. Carved figures of lions with crowns and a horned mythical creature she didn’t know were perched at intervals along the center line of its peaked roof.

A guard who had followed them pointed to an arched gate next to the building. “Go through there.”

Sìleas and Niall passed under the arch and entered the castle’s inner courtyard. The building with the decorative towers was to their right. A second large building made of the same shining stone stood opposite. Bordering the far side of the courtyard was a smaller building with stained-glass windows that must be a chapel. Servants, soldiers, and well-dressed courtiers hurried across the courtyard looking as though they knew where they were going.

“Which building do ye suppose the queen is in?” she whispered to Niall.

He shrugged and nodded toward the building with the decorative towers. “This one’s the biggest.”

When they approached the guards, the men looked Sìleas up and down as if she might be hiding a dirk beneath her skirts—which of course she was. Still, she was relieved to see that they were Highlanders.

“We’re looking for the queen,” Niall said.

“This is the Great Hall, which is only used for grand occasions.” The guard who spoke was a man of about forty, with muscular legs the size of tree trunks and laughter in his eyes. “But since the lass has such a lovely smile, I’ll let the two of ye have a wee peek.”

After glancing left and right, he opened the door and motioned them inside.

Sìleas found herself in a room that was perhaps three stories high, with five fireplaces, and a roof with heavy wooden beams that crossed to form angled arches.

“The babe James V was crowned in here not long ago,” the guard said. “ ’Tis the largest hall in all of Scotland—even larger than the one in Edinburgh Castle.”

The guard spoke with as much pride as if he’d built the hall himself.

“ ’Tis a grand sight, and I thank ye kindly for letting us see it,” Sìleas said. “But the queen is expecting us. Can ye tell us where we may find her?”

The guard opened the door and pointed across the courtyard. “She’s keeping court across the way, in what is called the King’s House.”

When Sìleas started to follow Niall out, the guard stopped her with a touch on her arm.

“Let me give ye a wee bit of advice, lass,” he said, leaning close enough for her to smell the onions on his breath. “Don’t go in there with just the lad. Wait and come back with your father and a few other men of your clan.”

“He’s my brother, and he’ll look out for me,” she said, managing a smile.

The King’s House was an impressive building, though it lacked the soaring elegance of the Great Hall. Well-dressed men and women moved along its covered wooden galleries, which served as outside corridors to the upper floors.

“We must keep our wits about us,” Niall said in her ear, as they crossed the courtyard. “If the queen is at all like her godforsaken brother, she’ll be crafty and willful.”

“That describes most of the men I know,” Sìleas said, “so I should be well prepared.”

“Watch out for the Earl of Angus, Archibald Douglas, as well.”

“The Douglas chieftain?” she asked. “Of what concern is he to us?”

“Last night while ye were washing up, I heard that the queen relies on him for advice.” Niall leaned closer. “In fact, they say she has taken the Douglas to her bed.”

Sìleas turned to stare at him. “But the king is hardly cold in his grave.”

“Aye, and she carries the dead king’s child,” Niall said in a low voice. “All the same, they say the queen is quite taken with the Douglas—and that the Douglas is quite taken with the notion of ruling Scotland.”

They had reached the entrance to the King’s House, where they were met by another set of guards, who directed them to wait inside the hall until they were called.

Sìleas was immediately glad she wore an English-style gown, which was high-waisted and closer fitting than her everyday gowns, since all the women wore them. Hers, however, was simpler and far more modest than the ones the other women were wearing. Although there was a sprinkling of Highlanders dressed in saffron linen shirts and plaids, most of the men in the hall also wore English clothes.

Sìleas crossed the room, drawn by the spectacular view through the windows on the opposite side of the hall. When she reached the windows and looked down, it appeared that the King’s House had been built on the very edge of the sheer cliffs.

“Ye can see for miles from here. Ach, that looks like Ben Lomond,” Niall said, pointing.

“I believe it is.” They both turned at the sound of a light, feminine voice behind them.

If the woman hadn’t spoken to them in English, Sìleas would have thought she was looking at a faerie queen. She had hair the color of moonbeams and sparkles in her headdress, which framed a face with lovely, delicate features. A rose-colored gown with a silvery sheen floated about her—except for the tight-fitting bodice, which had a square neck that revealed the tops of small, perfect breasts.

Faerie or no, Niall was staring with his jaw hanging open, as if enchanted.

“You are new to Court, or I would know you,” the woman said with a bright smile at Niall.

Either Niall was too enthralled to speak or his English was failing him. Sìleas’s English was poorer than his, but she managed to say, “We have just arrived.”

“Ah, you are Highlanders.” The woman let her eyes drift over Niall again. “In truth, I knew by your size—and that wild handsomeness—that you were a Highlander.”

Niall swelled like a toad at the blatant flattery.

“Welcome to Stirling,” the woman said. “My name is Lady Philippa Boynton.”

Philippa. The name was like a knife in Sìleas’s heart. Philippa was the name of the young woman Ian had told her about that fateful night they slept in the woods.

“Have ye been in Stirling long yourself?” Sìleas asked, wondering if she could truly be having the bad luck to be meeting the woman Ian had wished to marry.

“Not long this time,” the woman said, turning her sparkling eyes on Sìleas. “These days, I spend more time in London, but I have been to Stirling many times.”

“Were ye here at the castle five years ago?” Sìleas asked in a tight voice.

The woman gave a laugh that made Sìleas think of tiny bells. “Why yes, I believe I was. I stayed here for several months about that time. How did you guess?”

Ach, it was her—the woman Ian had wished to marry.

The memory of that night came back sharply—the rough ground beneath her, the chill in the air, the night sky above her. But most of all, she remembered the wistfulness in Ian’s voice as he spoke about a lady with a tinkling laugh and the grace of a faerie—and a beauty so enchanting that a young man who was not ready to marry would decide he was.

Ian had failed to mention that Philippa was English. If he had been willing to tell his father and chieftain he wished to wed an English lady, then Ian must have wanted her very badly indeed.

The faerie woman was looking at Sìleas as if she were waiting for a response. Sìleas had no recollection of the question, so she shook her head and let Lady Philippa believe she had not understood her English.

Sìleas was relieved when a young man in English livery interrupted them.

“Her Highness the Queen will see you now,” he said, giving Sìleas a slight bow. “I’ll escort you to her private parlor.”

Sìleas nodded to Lady Philippa and took Niall’s arm. As they followed the servant across the room, Niall stared at Lady Philippa over his shoulder.

The servant took them through an arched doorway, then stopped at the base of a circular stairs. “Only the lady is invited.”

“She goes nowhere without me,” Niall said.

“The audience will be in the queen’s private apartments,” the man said. “The queen and her ladies’ privacy must be respected.”

Sìleas tugged Niall to the side. “It will be all women in the queen’s apartments, so there’s nothing for ye to fret about.”

Niall didn’t look as though he liked it, but he didn’t argue when she gave him a bright smile and picked up her skirts to follow the servant up the stairs.

A short time later, Sìleas found herself in the queen’s bedchamber. Several ladies lounged on couches or on silk and brocade pillows on the floor, while the queen herself sat in a high-backed chair with her surprisingly tiny feet propped up on a stool and a ratlike dog in her lap. She was a buxom woman with beady eyes that matched her dog’s and heavy, glittering rings on every plump finger.

Standing next to her, with a hand resting on the back of her chair, was a darkly handsome man of about Ian’s age, with a well-groomed beard and hard eyes. Judging from his fine clothes and the way he held himself, Sìleas guessed this was the Earl of Angus, Archibald Douglas. She’d heard that his father had died at Flodden, making him the head of his clan—the Douglas, himself.

Sìleas’s mouth was dry as she stepped forward and made her curtsy, hoping she was doing it correctly.

“You are Sìleas MacDonald from the Isle of Skye?” the queen asked.

Sìleas had not foreseen that the queen would have no Gaelic. Her husband, though a Lowlander, had won favor with Highlanders by learning to speak Gaelic. He had been a great lover of Highland music as well.

“She may have no English,” the man Sìleas assumed was Archibald Douglas said.

“I do speak a little English,” Sìleas said.

The queen gave an impatient sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward.

Sìleas took a deep breath to calm herself, then said. “Your Highness, I’ve come a long way to ask for your help in obtaining an annulment from the church.”

While the queen scrunched her face up as if Sìleas were something her dog left behind, the Douglas looked her up and down as if she was standing in her chemise. What a rude pair these two were. As they say, Put silk on a goat and it is still a goat.

“So, you’ve found another man you wish to wed?” The queen turned to her ladies and added, “ ’Tis the usual reason.”

Sìleas felt herself color. “No, Your Highness, I have not.”

“So there’s no urgency?” the queen asked, raising her plucked eyebrows. “You’re not carrying another man’s child?”

Sìleas’s face felt burning hot. She shook her head violently this time.

The Douglas asked her in Gaelic, “So, you are a virgin?”

“That is an overly familiar question, sir,” she answered in Gaelic, meeting his gaze.

The Douglas turned to the queen and graced her with a dazzling smile. “I know it’s tedious for you to speak with someone who has such difficulty with English.”

The man made Sìleas angry enough to spit. Her English was not as bad as that.

“It doesn’t help that the lass is flustered speaking to royalty for the first time.” The Douglas spoke to the queen in a voice as smooth and slippery as melting lard. “Shall I take care of this problem for you?”

The queen flashed a sharp look at Sìleas, but she shifted her gaze away when the Douglas whispered something in her ear that made her neck flush. A moment later, he walked to the door that led outside to the gallery and flicked his hand at Sìleas, signaling for her to follow him.

Apprehension prickled at her skin as she followed him, but she didn’t want to remain with the queen, either. Once they were on the gallery—and out of the queen’s view—he held her arm against his body in a firm grip that increased her unease. She reminded herself that she was in a palace surrounded by soldiers and guards. Surely she had nothing to fear.

After passing three doors, he opened the fourth, which led into a small parlor. She was relieved to see two servants, who leapt to their feet and bowed as they entered. Sìleas glanced through the open door to her right—and her heart beat faster when she glimpsed an imposing bed with a dark wood frame and heavy crimson curtains.

“Go now,” the Douglas said.

The servants disappeared though a second door. As it closed behind them, Sìleas felt for the dirk strapped to her thigh—and cursed herself for not finding a hiding place closer to hand. She’d tried, but there was no good place to stick a dirk in this gown—and certainly not in her dainty slippers.

The Douglas poured a cup of wine from an ornate silver pitcher on the side table and took a drink. She chided herself for letting her imagination get away with her. Nothing could be more normal than a man taking a drink.

“I have some business to discuss with ye, lass,” he said, and handed her the cup. “Your letter to the queen said ye are heir to Knock Castle.”

She decided to hold her tongue until she knew where this was leading.

“I knew about ye being the heir, of course, but I’d heard ye wed a MacDonald and thought the matter settled.” Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he added, “ ’Tis my business to know such things.”

She didn’t like this man knowing so much about her. Since he’d drunk the wine, it couldn’t be poisoned, so she took a gulp. It did nothing to cure her dry throat.

“The queen will soon name me Protector of the Western Isles—which includes Skye, of course.” He leaned closer and said in a soft voice. “That means, lass, that I am a good man to know. And the better ye know me, the better off you’ll be.”

Her heart was racing. Despite her inexperience, she had a fair notion of what he was suggesting.

He pried the cup from her hand and set it on the table. “I’m sure you’ve had a hard time of it, with both the MacDonalds and the MacKinnons trying to get their hands on you and your castle,” he said. “Likely, the Macleods will have a try as well.”

When he took a step closer, she took a step back.

“I am a powerful man,” he said, resting a hand on her arm. “I can protect ye from the MacDonalds, the MacKinnons, and all the others.”

She backed up until her heels hit the wall. He was so close to her now that she could taste the wine on his breath and smell the musky odor of his skin beneath the scent he wore.

“You’re a verra lovely lass.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “And brave to come all this way, telling no one but that young lad who’s waiting for ye in the hall.”

If his intent was to make her realize just how alone she was—and how far from the protection of her clansmen—he had succeeded.

She swallowed back her fear and tried to keep her head. “I don’t suppose the queen would be pleased to see ye touching me.”

“No, I don’t suppose she would,” he said, his teeth gleaming white. “That’s why I’ll make sure she doesn’t know about us. Nothing could be easier.”

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “ ’Tis time I was leaving.”

“Come, lass, I deserve a reward for having to bed that Tudor cow.” He cupped her face and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “And don’t fret. If ye have a child, I promise I’ll claim it.”

Her mouth dropped open at this blunt statement of his intentions.

“Ye are a conniving bastard,” she hissed in his face. “Ye just want Knock Castle for yourself, same as the rest of them.”

“I can assure ye, lass,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders and pressing her against the wall, “Knock Castle is not all I want from ye.”

If she could have reached her dirk, she would have gutted him. As it was, she struggled against him, but he held her fast.

“Ye are a beauty,” he said in a husky voice, as his mouth inched closer to hers. “And I find I’m partial to pretty virgins.”

CHAPTER 24

Ian’s every nerve and muscle was taut with tension as they rode into Stirling. He had expected to find Sìleas and Niall on the road, but the pair had moved fast, damn them. After days of hard travel and worry, he felt like a hide that had been stretched and beaten on a frame.

“We’ll check all the taverns and inns,” Connor said. “They’ll be staying in one of them.”

If they had made it to Stirling. Ian’s headed pounded every time he thought of the dangers. “I’m going to the castle to look for them,” he said.

“If they haven’t gone there yet, we can still keep this quiet,” Connor said.

Fear pulsed through him. “I don’t care if I’m a laughingstock all across Scotland. I must find her quickly, before she comes to harm.”

If harm had not already found her.

“They can’t have arrived in Stirling more than half a day ahead of us,”Alex said. “Sìleas cannot walk into the palace and receive an audience with the queen. More than likely, they’ll make her wait a day or two—if they let her see the queen at all.”

Ian agreed, reluctantly, to look first in the town. After stabling their horses at the first tavern they found, they went inside—and finally had their first bit of luck.

“Take the room upstairs on the end,” the tavern keeper said, as he tucked the coins Ian gave him into the leather bag at his belt.

“Have ye seen a couple of lads, one almost as tall as me, and the other a wee thing with red hair?” Ian asked.

“Mayhap.” The tavern keeper narrowed his eyes at Ian. “Why would ye be looking for them?”

Ian’s heart beat faster. He wanted to grab the man and shake what he knew from him, but he was grateful for the tavern keeper’s unexpected protectiveness toward the wayward pair.

“My brothers had an argument with our da and ran off,” Ian said. “I’ve come to bring them home.”

“ ’Tis good you’ve come,” the man said, as he poured a cup of ale for another customer. “The big one looks like he could handle himself in a fight, but there are plenty of other dangers in Stirling, if ye know what I mean.”

Ian did. Praise God he had found them.

“Which room are they in?” Ian said, starting toward the stairs.

“The younger lad might be up there, but the tall one left some time ago.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Funny thing, he’d found himself a pretty lass and said they was going to visit the queen.”

People on the street moved out of Ian’s way as he strode toward the castle. Connor was beside him, matching him stride for stride, and the other two behind them.

“Mind your temper,” Connor said, as they drew near the gatehouse. “If ye draw your blade, twenty guards will be on ye before ye can say her name.”

They told the guards at the gatehouse they were looking for a clanswoman.

“She was with a big lad of fifteen, and she’s so high,” Ian said, holding his hand to his chin, “and has flaming red hair.”

“Couldn’t forget that lass, now could I?” one on the guards said. “Ach, she’s a fair one.”

Ian took a deep breath to keep from punching him.

“If that were my wife, ye can be sure I’d keep her home,” another said.

Ian gritted his teeth while Connor and Alex talked the guards into letting them pass, then they hurried to the King’s House. As soon as they got past another set of guards at the door, he saw Niall.

His brother’s eyes widened as Ian and the others crossed the hall to him, but he stood his ground.

“Where is she?” Ian grabbed Niall by the front of his shirt. “Tell me now.”

“A servant took her to the queen’s private parlor,” Niall said, and Ian saw the worry in his eyes. “He said men were not permitted to go there.”

Ian knew from personal experience that was a lie. The queen’s ladies sneaked men in all the time.

“I didn’t like it, but it’s only women in there, so Sìleas should be safe enough,” Niall said, but there was a question in his voice. “But she’s been gone a long while.”

Ian turned to the others. “Can ye hold the guards for a wee bit?”

“Wait, I see an easier way in.” Alex shifted his gaze across the room. “I believe that is the English lass who used to have an eye for ye.”

Ian followed Alex’s gaze to a woman with a graceful figure and a delicate, perfectly proportioned face framed by very fair tendrils.

“Are ye speaking of Lady Philippa?” Niall asked in a wistful voice.

She was, indeed, Philippa, the woman Ian had once planned to marry. It seemed a lifetime ago.

“I’d wager Philippa can get ye into the queen’s parlor in a wink, if she’s a mind to it,” Alex said, pushing Ian forward. “So make an effort to be charming.”

Philippa turned her head and blinked several times when she saw Ian walking toward her. After whispering something to the man standing next to her, she swept across the room to meet him with a smile lighting her face.

“You are as handsome as ever, Ian MacDonald,” she said, holding her gloved hand out to him. “How many other ladies’ hearts have you broken since last we met?”

“I must speak with ye alone,” Ian said, and took her by the elbow.

She glanced sideways at him and smiled as he led her into a darkened alcove. “Oh my, the ladies will be all atwitter—and green with envy.”

Ian bit back his impatience.

“I never apologized for not coming back for ye.” He owed her that—and it seemed politic to apologize before asking a favor. “I did mean to return and marry ye, but… it wasn’t possible.”

“Heavens, Ian, I couldn’t have married you,” she said, and laughed that tinkling laugh that used to enchant him. “I was one of King James’s mistresses at the time.”

Ian was stunned. He had thought her an innocent—and in love with him.

Philippa gave him a bittersweet smile. “I was doing as my family bid me. They sent me to court for that very purpose.”

“I’m sorry your family used ye so poorly. It was wrong of them.”

“Ah, Ian,” she said with a sigh. “You are gallant. I always liked that in you.”

“Since ye are here at court again, I assume the queen never discovered what ye were to the king,” Ian said, hoping she was on good terms with the queen so she could help him. “I hear she is a vindictive woman, so ye are taking a chance being here.”

“This time, it is my husband who sent me.” She leaned forward to whisper next to his ear. “He says Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, will soon have the power of the crown. That’s why he wants me to lure the Douglas into my bed.”

Ian stiffened. “Your husband asked ye to do that?”

“As if bedding the man would do us any good. Archibald Douglas is not a man to make decisions with his cock, or, alas”—she patted Ian’s chest—“with his heart.”

“Ach, ’tis a shame ye ended up with such a miserable husband.”

She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “We are of a like mind on most things.”

Ian didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides, I can take care of myself with the Douglas,” she said. “Unlike the poor virgin he has in his clutches at the moment. The girl is such an innocent, she hasn’t a chance against the likes of him.”

A prickle ran up Ian’s spine. “Tell me about this lass.”

“Apparently, she is heir to a castle the Douglas wants. This morning, I heard him convincing the queen to help the girl end her marriage—and wed her to one of his Douglas cousins.” She heaved a sigh. “I think I met her, and I fear that once the Douglas sees what a beauty she is, the cousin will not have her before he does.”

Ian gripped her arm. “Philippa, I must get to her.”

Philippa’s eyes went wide, and her hand went to her chest. “Do not tell me… No, Ian, you cannot be the husband she is trying to get rid of, are you?”

“I am,” he ground out. “I’ve come to take her home. Can ye get me inside the queen’s apartments?”

She lowered her head. “I don’t frighten easily, but the truth is that I am a bit afraid of Archibald Douglas.”

“I promise ye,” Ian said, leaning closer, “I would never tell who let me in.”

“I suppose you would not, even under torture,” she said, a faint smile returning to her lips. She held out her hand to him, “Come, we’d best hurry.”

Philippa took him up the servants’ staircase, which was hidden behind a screen. When she reached the top step, she turned to face him.

“I hope you won’t blame her if…” She paused and bit her lip. “… if you find her too late.”

Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Just tell me where to go from here.”

“The queen has given the Douglas a set of rooms for his private use, just there.” Philippa pointed to a door down the narrow back hallway.

“Be careful, Ian,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “There will be guards inside the door—and I hear that the Douglas is very good with a sword.”

CHAPTER 25

Sìleas wished to God she had never left Skye.

“If it is all the same to you, Laird Douglas…” She attempted to lean farther away from him, but she had nowhere to go. “I’ll withdraw my request for the queen’s assistance and be on my way.”

“Nonsense.” The Douglas took a loose curl at the side of her face between his fingers, pulled it straight, and smiled as he let it loose and watched it spring back. “Tell me, lass, are ye as wild as your hair?”

She didn’t like the way his eyes darkened when he said it.

“I’m a very proper lady.” If ever there was a time to stretch the truth, it was now.

“Judging from your rash decision to travel across half of Scotland with only a boy as your escort, I’m guessing ye are a wild one.”

Sìleas sucked in her breath to keep her chest from touching his as he leaned another inch closer. Sweat prickled down her back as she considered how unlikely she was to reach the dirk strapped to her thigh before he stopped her. In any case, lifting her gown seemed a foolish choice at present.

“You’ll find there are a great many benefits to being my mistress,” the Douglas said, easing his knee between her legs.

“I’m sure there are lasses who would appreciate the ‘benefits,’ but ye have nothing I want.”

She didn’t want to touch him, but when it appeared that he would not move away on his own, she pushed against his chest. He didn’t seem to notice.

“You’ll change your mind soon enough,” he said, so close his breath was hot on her face. “I know how to please a woman.”

Her heart pounded frantically in her chest as Douglas leaned toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the same prayer she prayed when she was little.

Please God, send Ian.

“ ’Tis been a long time since I’ve had a virgin,” he said in low, rough voice. “I’m looking forward to teaching ye all I know.”

She flinched as the prickle of the Douglas’s mustache grazed her upper lip.

“That is my wife you’ve got your hands on, Douglas.”

By some miracle, Ian’s voice filled the room. Hope took hold of her. Very slowly, she opened her eyes, afraid she had imagined it.

Her breath caught when she looked over Douglas’s shoulder and saw the answer to her prayer filling the doorway. With his claymore drawn and murder in his eyes, Ian looked magnificent—and more dangerous than she had ever seen him.

“If ye will step away from her now,” Ian said, “I’ll assume ye did not know she is my wife—and let ye live.”

Archibald Douglas arched his eyebrows at her. For a moment, Sìleas wondered if Ian knew he was threatening the Earl of Angus, one of the most powerful men in Scotland—and the queen’s “special” friend besides. But of course he knew.

The Douglas spun around, taking her with him. He held her against him with one arm and the hilt of his sword in the other.

“Is this the husband ye want to be rid of?” Douglas said, an amused smile twitching at his lips. “The one ye say has left ye a virgin?”

“Make no mistake, that lass is my wife.” Ian’s voice was seething with such menace that the hairs on the back of Sìleas’s neck stood up. “And she will remain so as long as there is breath in my body.”

As long as there was breath in his body. Despite her precarious position, Ian’s words sent a thrill through her.

“So you are Ian MacDonald of the Sleat MacDonalds,” the Douglas said, narrowing his eyes. “Tell me, are ye as good a fighter as they say?”

“Better,” Ian said. “Now, I asked ye verra nicely to step away from my wife. I’ll no be so polite the next time.”

It startled her when Archibald Douglas threw his head back and laughed.

“I appreciate a man who is fearless to the point of foolishness,” the Douglas said. “I’ll need men like you fighting with me when I come to the Isles to put down this latest rebellion.”

“Ye won’t live to fight another day if ye don’t release my wife,” Ian said. “My patience is gone.”

“I’ll call on ye when the time comes.” The Douglas shoved her forward. “Take your bride, Ian MacDonald of Skye.”

Ian took her wrist in a firm grasp and pulled her behind him.

“But for God’s sake,” the Douglas said, “don’t leave her a virgin another night.”

CHAPTER 26

Ian dragged Sìleas across the hall in front of the sniggering courtiers. He was practically wrenching her arm out of its socket, but she didn’t care. She wanted to weep with relief that he was here, that he’d come for her, even if it was pride that made him do it.

Without breaking his pace, Ian signaled to someone. Sìleas barely had time to glance over her shoulder, but it was easy to spot the four tall men in Highland dress surrounded by a bevy of court ladies.

A surge of guilt went through her as she realized that Connor, Duncan, and Alex had come all the way to Stirling because of her, when they were needed at home. Although the three of them clearly saw her and Ian, they made no move to follow. Niall alone ran after them.

“Praise God, ye are all right—” Niall stopped in his tracks when Ian spun around.

Ian was in a fury as she’d never seen him.

“It was a close thing.” Ian spoke between clenched teeth, and the vein in his neck was pulsing. “The Douglas had his hands on her.”

Niall turned wide eyes on her. “I should have gone with ye.”

“What ye should have done,” Ian bit out, “is never brought her to Stirling.”

Even Niall had the sense not to follow them after that. Once they were outside, Ian headed toward an arched gate next to the chapel. On the other side of the arch, he continued down a set of steep steps built into the hillside. She nearly tumbled as she followed him down to an enormous grassy expanse that was enclosed by the castle’s outer curtain wall.

Without glancing back at her, Ian proceeded to stomp across the field. She held her skirts up with her free hand and half-ran to keep up until they reached the wall. She thought surely he must stop now, but he pulled her behind him up the steps built into the side of the wall.

When he finally came to a halt at the top and turned to face her, she was gasping for breath.

“What in God’s name did ye think ye were doing?” he shouted. “Do ye know who the Douglas is?”

She saw no guards patrolling this part of the wall, which was built directly over the sheer cliff. Apparently, Ian had brought her all the way here so he could yell at her without being heard or interrupted.

“The man could have used ye and left ye murdered on the street,” Ian shouted, as he paced back and forth along the six-foot width of the wall walk, “and no one would have said a word about it.”

He halted and looked out at the horizon. “God in Heaven, Sìl, what if I wasn’t able to guess where you’d gone?” He paused, clenching his jaw. “What if I hadn’t come in time?”

Keeping his gaze fixed in front of him, he climbed up onto the ledge of the wall and sat with his legs hanging over the side.

She went to stand next to him and watched his profile.

“So why did ye come for me?” she asked.

He turned blue eyes on her that were so intense the air seemed to vibrate between them. “Because ye are my wife, whether ye like it or no.”

Her mouth went dry. Despite herself, her voice shook when she spoke. “I see. So ye have come because of your pride.”

“Is that what ye think?” he said, sounding outraged.

“Aye.” She licked her lips. “And because ye need me to justify taking Knock Castle.”

“I won’t say my pride didn’t take a beating, because it did. And I won’t say that we don’t need to take Knock Castle, because we do,” he said in a hard voice. “But that is not why I came for ye.”

She lifted her gaze from her muddy slippers to meet his angry eyes. “Then why did ye come?”

“I came because it is my responsibility to protect ye,” he said. “I cannot—I will not—fail you, my family, or my clan again. Even if ye weren’t my wife—which ye are—it’s my duty to keep ye from harm. I took on the task of being your protector long ago, and I’ll not stop now.”

Sìleas understood Ian’s need to make amends. Still, she hoped she was more than a duty, more than a wrong he needed to make right. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It was hard to ask what a woman wanted a man to tell her freely.

“Do ye care for me a little?”

“Of course I care for ye, damn it,” he said, waving his arm out to the side. “I always cared for ye, since ye were a wee thing, and ye know it.”

Like a favorite dog. A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips.

“And I want ye.” His eyes went dark, and he gave her a look that burned right through her. “I want ye so much that sometimes I can’t breathe when I look at ye.”

He turned away again and stared off at the distant mountains. After a while, he said, “When ye left me, Sìl… well, nothing mattered but getting ye back.”

Surely this was a good sign? A cause for hope? Even if Ian never came to love her as she wanted him to, he seemed to genuinely want her to be his wife now; there was no dirk at his back. He felt affection for her, desired her.

“Saints above, ye scared me half to death running off like that,” he said, his anger flashing again. “I didn’t know where ye were, or if ye were safe.”

“Niall took good care of me,” she said, feeling calmer now.

“Niall will be a man to be reckoned with one day, but he’s young,” he said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t understand the danger of men like Archibald Douglas.”

He stared into the distance for a long time before he spoke again.

“I know ye have your complaints against me, but I need to speak plainly to you,” he said. “It was wrong of ye to bring our problems here. ’Tis dangerous to draw the attention of the crown—and the Douglas. Ye can never know where it will end.”

She leaned against the ledge beside him and hugged herself against the stiff wind. “Why did ye not tell me of your plans to take Knock Castle?”

“I didn’t want ye fretting over it. Besides, we just made the plan.” His tone was sour, but at least he didn’t try to tell her that taking her family castle was none of her concern. “Now we won’t have time to take it before the chieftain is chosen at the Samhain gathering.”

“I wish Connor and the others hadn’t come,” she said.

“Bad as it was finding ye alone with the Douglas behind a locked door, it could have been worse,” Ian said. “They knew I might need them, and we’ve always been loyal to each other.”

Sìleas watched the clouds gathering around the mountains and thought about loyalty—specifically, Ian’s.

“I’m ready to hear about Dina now,” she said.

“Dina? I have nothing to say about Dina,” he said. “She has naught to do with us.”

She let the silence stretch and waited for his anger to pass.

“I wanted to be clean for ye on our wedding night,” he said, and she heard the wistfulness in his voice. “I was taking my bath, when Dina came into the kitchen with her own plans.”

“What about the crystal?” she asked. “I saw it on her.”

“Dina came up behind me and snatched it from my neck when I wasn’t expecting it.”

This admission seemed to embarrass him more than being caught naked with Dina.

He dropped down from the wall ledge to stand before her.

“I got your stone back,” he said, as he reached inside his shirt and tugged at a leather cord tied around his neck. He opened the pouch and let the crystal drop into his palm for her to see.

“I swear I did not touch her,” he said and held her gaze.

She closed his hand over the stone and wrapped her hands around his fist. “I believe ye.”

“If ye stay with me, I promise I’ll be faithful,” Ian said. “I’ll do my best to make ye happy.”

It wasn’t a pledge of undying love, but it was enough. Ian did care for her. As her husband, he would put her needs first, as a matter of honor. He would protect her with his life, if it came to it.

“If ye still want to leave me, I’ll not fight ye,” Ian said. “But these are troubled times, and ye must have a man to protect ye. If you wish to choose another husband, ye must do it quickly.”

It wouldn’t be fair to marry another man when she would always love Ian. What had made her think she could leave him?

“I made my choice a long time ago,” she said. “For me, it has always been you, Ian MacDonald.”

“Good.” Ian slid the crystal back in the pouch, tucked it inside his shirt, and grabbed her hand.

Once again, Sìleas had to run to keep up with his long strides. He kept a firm grasp on her hand and forged ahead through the castle and then into the town, as if wolves were nipping at his heels.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I don’t like the Douglas,” Ian said without breaking his pace, “but I mean to take his advice as soon as possible.”

Sìleas swallowed, remembering the Douglas’s parting words.

For God’s sake, don’t leave her a virgin another night.

CHAPTER 27

Sìleas saw Niall sitting at one of the tables as they entered the dark, noisy tavern. He stood as soon they entered.

“Stay out of trouble,” Ian said, giving Niall a pointed look as he passed him. “I’ll come find ye in the morning.”

It was barely noon.

Niall grabbed her free arm. “Is this what ye want, Sìl?”

Brave lad. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she managed a nod to reassure him.

Ian strode through the tavern with barely a glance right or left and led her up the stairs. At the last door, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

Apparently, Ian was taking no chances with the bad luck that lurked in doorways.

He kicked the door shut and set her on her feet. While he shoved a chest from the far wall in front of the door, she glanced at the bed that seemed to fill the room. When he turned and focused his heated gaze on her, she swallowed. His body seemed to pulse with a barely contained energy.

She was aware of his chest rising and falling, the muscles in his jaw working, the tension running through every fiber of him. When he took a step toward her, she had to fight not to take a step back. His desire was palpable and dark, fanned hotter by his anger—anger that stemmed from the sting to his pride as well as fear for her safety.

Without a word, he crushed her against his chest and his passion exploded. His mouth ravished hers, demanding all and holding back nothing.

There was nothing in him of the gentle lover who pressed feather-light kisses over her scarred back. This time, Ian was letting her see the untamed violence of his hunger for her.

She felt overwhelmed by the force of his need, the assault on her senses. It frightened her, and yet something deep inside her craved his raw emotion, unchecked and unbound. She wanted to drown in the stormy passion of deep kisses, to feel the writhing need of the insistent hands gripping her hips.

Ian tore his mouth away to give her hot, wet kisses along the side of her throat. Clutching her bottom, he lifted her against him so that she felt his erection, full and hard.

“I want ye so badly,” he said against her ear. “I may die right here if I can’t have ye.”

For the first time, she felt her power over him—and she liked it. She splayed her hands under his shirt and bit his lip, drawing a low groan from him.

“Well, ye can have me,” she said, and pulled him into another deep kiss.

He backed her up to the bed, and they fell across it. Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her as if he might never have the chance again. Then his hands were running over her body, rough with wanting. Her chest felt tight, as if she could not get enough air. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

His hand was on her breast, his thumb seeking the nipple. When he found it, he lowered his head to suck on her breast through the bodice of her gown. She gasped as intense sensations spiraled through her. The world was suspended as every part of her being focused on his mouth on her breast. It was a torture, but a sweet torture that left her breathless and light-headed.

He jerked at the skirt of her gown until his hand touched her bare thigh. But it was not enough.

“I need ye naked,” he said, his voice a low rasp deep in his throat. “Now.”

He rolled her to the side and began unhooking the back of her gown, while his mouth assaulted hers with scorching kisses that left her dazed and wanting. The next thing she knew, she was lifting her arms and he was pulling the gown over her head. Cool air hit her hot skin—her chemise had come off with her gown.

Before she had time to feel embarrassed, he wrapped himself around her, engulfing her in the heat of his body and his passion. The rough cloth of his shirt made her sensitive skin tingle.

Her heart beat hard with anticipation as he paused to jerk his boots off and pull his shirt over his head. When he crushed her against him again, this time it was skin to skin.

Every inch of her was alive to his touch—and his hands were everywhere, running over her body, as he kissed her hair, her face, her throat. Their nakedness increased the urgency of his already burning need. She felt it in the tension of his muscles under her hands, in the hunger of his kisses.

“Ye are mine,” he said, pausing to look at her with burning eyes. “And I’m claiming every inch of ye.”

His hair slid over her skin as he moved down her body, planting hot, wet kisses down her breastbone, to the undersides of her breasts, and on her stomach. All the while, his hands played with her nipples, sending sensations straight to the aching place between her legs.

As his mouth and tongue traveled over her belly and down her hip, a sliver of unease crept into the swirl of sensations that swamped her. Her unease grew by a giant leap when he lifted her knee and she felt the bristle of his whiskers and the wet warmth of his open mouth on the inside of her thigh.

Tension mounted inside her as his mouth drew closer and closer to her center. Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss her there. Her breathing grew shallow as he moved up, inch by inch. She was at his mercy, and she didn’t care. Wherever he was taking her, she wanted to go.

Oh God! When he kissed her there, between her legs, her body jerked—whether from shock or because she was so sensitive, she didn’t know. He groaned and tightened his hold on her thighs.

He ran his tongue over her, sending surges of pleasure through her that had her gripping the bedclothes in her fists. She tried to form the words to protest, but the sounds that came from her throat only seemed to encourage him to do more.

And the more he did, the more she never wanted him to stop.

She gripped the bedclothes tighter and held on for dear life as the tension built and built inside her. When she could stand no more, she strained against his hold.

But he was relentless. She came in pounding waves that blinded her.

Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her. His hands were fisted in her hair, his ragged breath was on her face, and his eyes were dazed, unfocused. His chest pressed down on her sensitive breasts. But what had her attention was his manhood pressing against the sensitive place his mouth had been a moment before.

Of their own volition, her hips rose to meet him. He made a guttural sound deep in his throat and surged forward—but just as she felt him start to push inside her, he halted.

His face was strained as he looked down at her, blinking as if he had stepped into the light from a dark, dark place.

He lifted himself off of her slowly, as if he were pulling himself against a rushing current, and lay beside her.

When she turned to face him, he brushed the hair back from her face. Something had changed in him. The urgency of a few moments before was banked, though she sensed it still burned hot just beneath the surface.

“I’ve never bedded a virgin before, so I don’t know how much this will hurt ye,” he said. “Are ye frightened?”

She shook her head; it was mostly true.

Her gaze dropped to his groin, and she felt her eyes go wide as she got a good look at his shaft.

“Ach, it’s bigger than I expected,” she said, unable to take her eyes from it. “Will it fit?”

He chuckled deep in his throat and lifted her chin with his fingers. “Like a glove. We were made for each other.”

She tilted her head to the side to take another look. “I’m no so sure…”

“Where’s my brave lass?” he asked, with a smile in his eyes. “Do ye want to touch me?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Come, give me your hand.”

He sucked in his breath as he ran her fingers slowly up his shaft. It was strange how it felt rock hard at the same time that the skin was silky smooth. It was wet at the top.

“See? Nothing to be afraid of,” he said, his voice strained.

When she looked up at Ian’s face, he looked in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked as she stroked up and down, more firmly this time.

“It doesn’t… pain me… exactly. But I can’t stand it long, not until after I’ve had ye the first time.”

She nodded, taking this in.

“Sit up, lass,” he said, pulling her up. Then he dropped to his knees on the floor and pulled her to the edge of the bed so that her knees were on either side of his hips.

When he enfolded her in his arms, she was acutely aware of his shaft pressing against her. He kissed her face and leaned down to kiss the side of her throat. Then he gave her a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue moving in and out, exploring her mouth. The ache between her legs grew as he moved his hips back and forth, causing his shaft to move with exquisite slowness against her.

He covered her breasts with his hands, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and fingers as he continued moving against her. She felt spineless, hardly able to sit up. His shaft slid easily because she was so wet, but Ian didn’t seem to mind.

He leaned back, and she felt the heat of his gaze on every intimate part of her. It made it hard to breathe.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low and rough.

But Ian was the beautiful one. With his eyes darkened by desire to midnight blue, his black hair, and the hardened body of a young warrior, he could enchant the faerie queen herself.

“I want ye so badly,” he said.

When he pushed her back on the bed, she was grateful because she didn’t have the strength to sit up any more. He pulled her up further on the bed and hovered over her on all fours. Her breath came in shallow gasps when he cupped the sensitive spot between her legs and started moving his fingers over her in a circular motion.

When he leaned down to take her mouth, she slid her arms around his neck. Soon she was lost in deep kisses. She pulled him against her, wanting to feel his weight on her.

The breath went out of her in a huff when the tip of his shaft pressed against her opening. On their own, her legs went round him, urging him forward.

He broke the kiss. With his eyes on hers, watching her closely, he eased forward a fraction until something inside her stopped him. Sweat broke out on his brow.

“It will hurt a bit,” he said.

“I don’t care.” She felt edgy, impatient.

“I think ye are ready,” he said, breathing hard. “Do ye think ye are? Do ye want me to wait longer?” There was a strained, pleading quality to his voice.

“I want to feel ye inside me.”

He made a strangled sound and surged forward. She felt a sharp pain, and something inside her ripped.

She must have cried out, because Ian covered her face with kisses. “Are ye all right, love?”

He called her “love.”

“I am,” she said. The sharp pain was gone, but she could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her.

“You’re so tight,” he said.

“Too tight?” she asked, panic rising in her throat. “Will it be all right?”

“Ah, ye are perfect,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ye can have no notion how good it feels.”

Then he was kissing her, and she forgot everything except him. She groaned when he began moving slowly inside her, causing exquisite new sensations. His kisses were hungry, urgent, as he moved faster and harder against her. She lifted her hips and pulled at his shoulders, wanting him closer, deeper.

So many emotions were coursing through her veins that she felt as if she might burst into tears or shatter. Joy. Love. A closeness to another human being she had never felt before. She never imagined it would feel like this, encompassed in his arms, their bodies joined and moving as one. She could not tell where she ended and he began.

“Ye feel so good, Sìl.” His words came in soft bursts. “I… I can’t wait, love.”

She held onto him as he thrust into her faster and faster. She felt the pressure building inside both him and her.

“You’re mine,” he gasped. “Mine. Mine. Forever mine.”

Forever. She had loved him forever.

“Sìleas,” he cried, as he surged against her, and she shattered in his arms. Stars sparkled against her eyelids as her body squeezed around his. She called his name as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

He collapsed over her. Though he was heavy, she welcomed the weight of him, the certainty that he was here, that he was hers.

Ian had claimed her as his at last.

In truth, she had always been his. Always.

Oh God, he was a bad man and a poor husband. For certain, he’d been too rough with her—and she a virgin. But he’d never needed a woman like that. Never. At least he had stopped himself from plunging into her and taking her hard and fast as he’d wanted to.

He should have talked to her and been gentle from the start. Ach, he probably frightened her half to death attacking her the way he did the moment the door was closed. And then he shocked her by tasting her. He smiled to himself. Nay, he couldn’t regret that part—and he was quite sure she didn’t, either.

When she found her release… there was nothing like it in this world, and probably not in the next one, either. He was still shaking from what making love to her had done to him. He was a blessed man to have a woman who could make him feel like that.

He pulled her close so that her head was resting on his chest, breathed in the scent of her hair, and started to drift off to sleep.

“I met the English lady ye wanted to wed.”

Her words jarred him from his stupor. “What?”

“Philippa,” she said in a soft voice. “She’s all that ye said she was.”

“I can’t remember what I said about her.” Why was she talking about Philippa?

In a small voice, she said, “Do ye still regret that ye were prevented from marrying her?”

“Sìl, I don’t want any woman as my wife but you.” After what had just passed between them, how could she be asking this? Women could be very hard to understand at times.

“I’ve told ye there will never be another woman,” he said, “but I cannot change the past.”

And that was the problem. Their past was precisely the reason she needed reassurance.

He rolled her onto her back and leaned over her. “Ye have no cause to be jealous of Philippa,” he said, looking into her eyes. “And it’s not just that ye are more beautiful than she is.”

“Ach, now I know ye are lying to me,” she said, making a face.

“Ye don’t know how lovely ye are.” She was beautiful with her hair all wild on the pillow and her cheeks rosy from their lovemaking.

She sucked in her breath when he leaned down and flicked his tongue over her nipple. It stood up for him, begging for more. He pressed his cock against her side so she would feel how hard she made him.

“Wedding Philippa would have been a terrible mistake,” he said.

She licked her lip and asked in a breathy voice. “Why is that?”

“Because ye are the woman who was made for me.” He rolled on top of her, pushing her legs apart. “If ye have any doubt, let me show ye again.”

CHAPTER 28

Ian winked at Sìleas and squeezed her leg under the table as he scooped up the last of his porridge. He knew he looked like a lovesick fool to the other guests, who were having breakfast or a cup of ale before going about their business for the day, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

“Ye look pretty this morning,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, either, though he knew it embarrassed her.

“Will we collect the others and leave Stirling this morning?” Sìleas asked.

He was about to suggest they could go back to bed for another hour or two first, when a man entered the tavern and scanned the crowded room. Damn, with that bushy black beard, he looked like a Douglas. Then the man’s gaze settled on Ian, and he strode through the tavern toward them. Damn again.

“The Douglas has a wedding gift for ye,” the man said, sounding more like he was delivering a threat than a felicitation.

Ian took the parchment the man handed him and broke the seal. It was a charter for Knock Castle and the surrounding lands signed by the queen, as regent.

“Give my thanks to the Douglas,” Ian said, rolling the parchment back up and sticking it inside his shirt for safekeeping. “I don’t suppose ye know if it’s the only one?”

The crown had a bad habit of giving charters for the same property to more than one clan, which tended to fuel the conflicts already burning between clans.

The man ignored his question and sat down next to him on the bench. “Donald Gallda MacDonald of Lochalsh is raising trouble again.”

Donald Gallda was leading this latest rebellion against the crown. Like his father and cousin before him, Donald sought to resurrect the MacDonalds to their former glory, when their chieftain was Lord of the Isles. After his father’s failed rebellion, Donald was taken by the king to be raised in the Lowlands, which was why Highlanders called him Donald Gallda, the Stranger.

“The days of the Lord of the Isles are long past,” the Douglas man said. “Siding with the rebellion will do you and the MacDonalds of Sleat nothing but harm.”

Ian agreed, though he wasn’t about to share his thoughts on the matter with a stranger. It had been twenty years since the Lord of the Isles had been forced to submit to the king of Scotland. Since then, the MacDonald clan had broken into several branches, each with their own chieftain, and there was no going back from that. The MacDonald’s former vassals—the Macleods, the Camerons, and the Macleans, among them—were used to their independence as well.

“I hear Donald Gallda ousted the royal garrison and took Urquhart Castle,” Ian said.

“Ach, they’re devils,” the man said. “Starting this fight on the heels of our bloody losses to the English.”

“I’ve a new bride, so the rebellion doesn’t concern me much one way or the other today,” Ian said, putting his arm around Sìleas. Would the man never leave?

“We share enemies,” the Douglas man said.

That was true, though a man would need a chart like Sìleas kept for the sheep and cows to keep track of the shifting alliances among the clans. The Macleods of Harris and Dunvegan, however, were long-standing rivals of the MacDonalds of Sleat, and they were supporting the rebellion. Lachlan Cattanach Maclean of Duart, otherwise known as Shaggy Maclean, had taken the rebel side as well—and Ian had a personal grudge against Shaggy, having spent time in his dungeon.

“If the Douglas could be certain your cousin would support the Crown,” the man said, “he could be convinced to lend a hand when Connor is ready to take the chieftainship from his uncle.”

“I’ll be sure to give Connor my best advice,” Ian said.

When the man finally got up and left, Ian blew out his breath. “I can see that taking the chieftainship from Hugh Dubh will just be the start of Connor’s troubles.”

“Aye,” Sìleas said. “But the sooner he is chieftain the better.”

“My wife is a wise woman,” Ian said, lifting her chin with his finger. “What do ye say to going back to our room?”

Ahh, her eyes were so green. And, better yet, they were telling him just what he wanted.

He was halfway off the bench when a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. Who now? Brushing the hand off, he turned to find a wild-haired man who smelled as if he’d been living rough far too long.

“I saw ye talking to one of the Douglases,” the man said, in a voice so deep the bench vibrated when he spoke.

“He was giving me a wedding gift,” Ian said, losing patience. “And if ye don’t mind, I’m taking my bride back to bed now.”

“A moment, friend,” the man said, not sounding friendly at all. “Go home and tell your chieftain that we’re counting on the MacDonalds of Sleat to fight with us against the Crown.”

God’s beard, how many men must he argue with before he could take his bride back upstairs?

“Ye don’t think the English killed enough Scots at Flodden that we must kill each other now?” Ian took a long drink of his ale and slammed his empty cup down. “All in all, your timing seems verra poor to me.”

“We must strike now, while there is no king to fight us,” the man said. “Even Lowlanders won’t follow an English woman into battle.”

“I suspect it will not be the queen, but Archibald Douglas, who will be leading them,” Ian said. “I don’t like the man, but I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. The Douglas has iron in his eyes.”

When the second man finally left them, Ian took Sìleas’s hand. “We’d best hurry.”

“Ach, they’ve come for us,” she said.

Ian turned to see Connor and the others entering the tavern. He heaved a sigh, knowing his friends had already given him more time than they ought. They could not afford to delay their departure longer. It was, however, a small comfort to see the disappointment on Sìleas’s face.

• • •

Sìleas fought to keep her eyes open as they sat around the campfire. Niall had lost the fight and was snoring with his head against a log while the others talked. The only thing that kept Sìleas awake was her rumbling stomach—and her sore behind. After one day, it felt as if she had been on that damned horse a week.

Although the men attempted to restrain their pace out of consideration for her, Sìleas felt their urgency. Samhain—and the gathering to select the new chieftain—was less than a week away. They could ill afford the days lost fetching her from Stirling. And yet, none of them uttered one word of complaint against her.

Nor would they.

Because Ian had claimed her as his wife, the others simply accepted her. She could almost feel the tight bond that connected the four men wrap around her and encompass her within their protection. It was unspoken and subtle, but she knew with utter certainty that any one of them would die to protect her.

Although she had known Connor, Alex, and Duncan when they were lads, she was coming to know them as men now. She let her gaze rest on each of them as they talked, starting with Alex, who looked like one of his marauding Viking ancestors—until he laughed, which was often. Then there was Duncan, a huge man, who could play the sweetest music you’d ever want to hear, but had a shadow of sadness in his eyes. When she asked, Ian told her Duncan had been in love with Connor’s sister, who was wed to the son of an Irish chieftain.

Finally, she turned her gaze to Connor, who looked so much like Ian they could be mistaken for each other by someone who didn’t know them well. If the men made him chieftain, it would be because he was a strong warrior and very clever. But Sìleas believed Connor would be a great chieftain because he also had the humility to listen to the wise counsel of others and felt compassion for even the lowliest members of his clan.

“I had as many men taking my measure in Stirling as I do at home on Skye,” Connor said as he turned the spit with the rabbits over the fire.

“They want to place their wager on the right horse,” Duncan said. “What worries me is that they’ll be expecting a portion of the winnings.”

“With the Crown in the hands of a babe, it’s every man for himself,” Connor said, shaking his head, “and the scavengers feeding on the weak.”

“The Douglases and the Campbells are the worst,” Alex said. “They’re like two dogs with one bone.”

“Aye, and I feel their teeth in me,” Connor said, and they all laughed.

“Ye should have put Alex to work on the queen,” Duncan said. “Then we could all have fancy titles like the Douglases.”

“Ye offend my honor,” Alex said. “I only do my duty for the clan with the pretty ones.”

After the laughter died down again, Connor said. “We’d best keep our heads down, lads. We have enemies to spare without adding more.”

The smell of the rabbits roasting finally woke Niall, who sat up and stretched. “Are they cooked yet? I’m famished.”

“I’d best serve Sìleas first,” Connor said, as he lifted the spit from the fire. “Her stomach is so loud it’s disturbing the horses.”

Her mouth watered as Connor held the spit out and Ian cut off a big slice for her with his knife. Though she enjoyed the men’s easy banter, as soon as her hunger was sated, she grew too tired to follow it.

“Your wife is going to choke to death if she keeps falling asleep with her mouth full,” Connor said.

She opened her eyes with a start to find the men all smiling at her.

“That would be a shame, after we went to the trouble of fetching her,” Duncan said.

“Goodness, Duncan, is that two jokes I heard ye make tonight?” she said, and they all laughed.

Ian handed her a flask of ale and rubbed her back as she took a drink to wash down the rabbit.

“Let’s get ye off to bed.” He set the flask aside and scooped her up in his arms.

“Night, Sìleas,” and “Sleep well,” the others called to her as Ian carried her off into the darkness beyond the firelight.

When Ian had found a secluded spot some distance from the others, he set her down and spread their blankets. She thought she would fall asleep as soon as her head hit the ground. Instead, she lay in Ian’s arms listening to the wind in the trees and the faint sound of Duncan playing a tune on his whistle.

When Ian lifted her chin and gave her a soft kiss, she opened her mouth to him and pressed against him. How she loved him.

He pulled back. “Are ye sure you’re not too tired?”

“Aye. I want ye, Ian MacDonald.” She ran her hand up his erect shaft to show him how certain she was.

It was the same each night of their return to Skye. After riding so many hours that she could barely stand, they would eat and talk with the others. Then Ian would lead her off to make their bed away from the others.

As soon as she lay down with him, her tiredness evaporated like the morning mist and they would make love half the night. What Ian did to her was a constant wonder to her, a magic she feared the faeries would envy.

By the time they reached the coast, she was in an exhausted fog of happiness. They found a distant cousin of Alex, one of the MacDonnells, who was willing to take them across the Sound of Sleat in his boat. Despite the cold, wet wind on the sea, Sìleas fell sound asleep to the rocking of the boat with Ian’s arms about her.

She awoke to an awareness of tension in Ian’s body. When she opened her eyes, she saw Knock Castle shrouded in low clouds up the coastline to the north.

“I hope ye believe I would want ye as my wife whether or not ye were heir to Knock Castle,” he said.

She ignored the grain of doubt that remained in her heart and nodded.

“But we must take it back,” he said.

She tightened her grip on Ian’s arm. Even if she had Ian with her, would she be able to live in a place that held such sorrow for her? Could it ever be cleansed of her mother’s suffering or her stepfather’s malevolence?

Could she and Ian be happy in a castle that made a ghost weep?

She understood the importance of the castle and her claim on it to the clan, but just the sight of it made her stomach tighten into knots. Knowing Murdoc and Angus were there now made her feel worse.

“They can’t see us from the castle, can they?” she asked, though it made her feel foolish.

“They’ll see the boat, but there are many boats in these waters,” Ian said. “This isn’t one they’ll know.”

Ian kept his gaze fixed on Knock Castle until it disappeared from view. “I’ll not let the man who hurt you keep your home.”

But Knock Castle had never been a true home to her.

CHAPTER 29

Shouts of greeting filled the house as soon as Ian opened the front door.

“Praise God, all of ye are safe and that ye brought her home to us,” his mother said. She hugged him and each of the other men in turn, while his father embraced Sìleas.

“Is my thick-headed son treating ye better now?” his father asked, with his arm about her shoulders. “Sometimes a man needs a good scare to clear his head.”

“Then my head must be verra clear, for she had me scared witless, da,” Ian said, laughing.

Ah, it was good to be home.

They caught up on news over dinner. Though no one was told of their departure, as happens on Skye, everyone knew of it within a day or two.

“Hugh’s supporters spread the rumor that Connor’s left for good,” his father said. “We hear from Duncan’s sister that Hugh is making promises he’s not likely to keep in order to gain support. Unfortunately, it seems to be working.”

That didn’t bode well at all. From the start, it was always going to be a challenge for Connor to take the chieftainship from his uncle, but they had counted on taking Knock Castle to swing support in Connor’s favor. Men love a victory. But it was too late now to gather men and mount an attack.

“With Samhain but two days away,” Alex said, slapping Connor on the back, “we’ll have to move quickly to let the men know you’re home and ready to take your place as chieftain.”

Time was too short. Still, there had to be a way to convince their clansmen that Connor was the right man to choose—or that Hugh was the wrong choice.

They discussed their strategies for the gathering over supper. But when they were done eating, they set aside the uncertainties ahead to celebrate coming home and the start of Ian and Sìleas’s life together.

Duncan pulled out his whistle, and the rest of them took turns singing verses to the old songs they all knew. As Sìleas sang and clapped with the others, there was a glow about her that warmed Ian’s heart.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the others. He caught his father winking at his mother and knew how pleased his parents were that matters were settled between him and Sìleas. Even Niall had come around. Although Niall had been cautious around him the day they left Stirling, his brother had warmed once he saw how happy Sìleas was.

Ian felt at peace here at home with Sìleas, his friends, and his family. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt so content.

“We’d best say our good-byes now,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “Duncan, Alex, and I will leave early in the morning—long before our pair of lovebirds are up. We’ll talk to as many men as we can before the Samhain gathering.”

“I’ll meet up with ye before the gathering,” Ian said.

“Sìleas, lass,” Duncan said in his gruff voice, “will ye be wearing that new gown ye was telling us about to the gathering?”

Ian almost fell off his chair. Duncan was a good man, making such an effort to bring Sìleas into the circle of their friendship.

“I must have been light-headed with weariness to be speaking about gowns with ye,” Sìleas said, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. “I didn’t think ye were listening to my blathering about it.”

“I don’t talk all the time like some,” Duncan said, turning to raise an eyebrow at Alex, “so I heard ye well enough. It’s green to match your eyes, am I right?”

Ian exchanged glances with Alex and Connor, who appeared to be as startled as he was by Duncan’s conversation.

“It is green,” Sìleas said, giving Duncan a huge smile. “Tell me, will ye play your whistle at the gathering?”

“Ach, this little whistle is for when I travel light,” Duncan said, patting where he kept it on a cord inside his shirt. “When Connor is made chieftain, I’ll play my pipes—and perhaps my harp as well. My sister has been keeping them for me.”

The men stood up, preparing to go to the old cottage for the night.

Sìleas rose up on her toes and kissed Duncan’s cheek. “I’ll see ye at the gathering.”

“Careful, lass,” Duncan said. “I don’t want Ian’s dirk in my back.”

“I’ll risk it,” Alex said, opening his arms to her. “Remember, ye promised me a kiss when we were on the boat.”

“What promise—” Before Ian could get the question out, Alex had lifted Sìleas off the ground and kissed her right on the mouth.

No sooner had Ian pried her loose from Alex, than Connor said, “Since we’re leaving early, I’d best get my kiss now as well.”

Connor, wise man, settled for a friendly peck on the cheek.

“I’ve had enough of ye handling my wife,” Ian said, putting his arm around Sìleas and pulling her close.

“But I didn’t get my turn,” Niall said, stepping forward.

“Ye were alone with my wife overnight and lived to tell the tale,” Ian said, lifting his hand to ward off his brother. “Ye’d best be content with that.”

After the men left for the cottage and his parents had settled into quiet conversation near the hearth, Sìleas took Ian aside.

“I want to tell Gòrdan about us,” she said. “It’s not right that he should hear of it from someone else.”

Ian nodded. “All right. I’ll take ye up there in the morning.”

“I’d rather go now and get it over with,” she said. “Do ye mind?”

Ian recalled what his brother said about a long line of men waiting for Sìleas to lose patience with him. If she was in a hurry to tell the first man in that line to stop waiting, well, that was fine with him.

“I’ll walk up with ye and wait outside,” he said. “I don’t want ye out alone.”

A short time later, Ian was leaning against a tree under a moonless sky and watching his wife rap on Gòrdan’s door.

When Gòrdan opened it, a shaft of light fell over Sìleas and across the dark yard. Ian heard their murmured voices as they talked in the doorway.

Then he heard Gòrdan’s mother shouting, “The wicked lass has left her husband for ye, hasn’t she?”

Gòrdan was patient, as always, with his mother.

“Quiet, mam. I can’t explain now,” he called to her, before he stepped outside and shut the door.

The two spoke in quiet voices a while longer, then Sìleas left Gòrdan to walk toward the tree where Ian waited. Ian felt Gòrdan’s eyes on him in the darkness.

“Be good to her,” Gòrdan called out.

“I will.”

Ian held Sìleas’s hand as they walked home along the dark path. He didn’t ask about her conversation with Gòrdan; if she wanted to speak of it, she would.

Before they reached the house, he stopped in the path and turned to her. He brushed back the hair whipping about her face, but it was too dark to see her expression.

“I never meant to shame ye by not coming home,” he said.

“I know ye didn’t,” she said.

But the truth was that he had given her feelings little thought at all, and they both knew it.

“If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t be such an arse.”

“Are ye sure?” she said with a smile in her voice.

It was like her to try to ease his conscience by making light of it. He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “I’m sorry I hurt ye. I wish we hadn’t been forced to wed back then before we were ready, so we could do it now, and do it right.”

“ ’Tis true I wasn’t ready,” Sìleas said. “But I always wanted you to be my husband in the end.”

“That’s because ye are wiser than me,” Ian said, rubbing his chin against her hair. “I hate knowing that my wife will always remember the start of our marriage as the worst day of her life. I’d do anything to change that.”

Sìleas leaned away from him, and he felt the soft touch of her fingertips graze his cheek. “Then let’s count our marriage as starting now, and not five years ago.”

Ian realized she was right for wanting to tell Gòrdan tonight, to have all that done and behind them. They were embarking on their new life together, now that they were home.

Ian held her tight against him. “I’ll try to make it up to ye every day from now on.”

CHAPTER 30

Sìleas understood why Ian was saying these things to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him when he said he wanted to make her happy—he did. But Ian had a hole inside him. Until he redeemed himself for being gone when they needed him, he could not forgive himself. That only made her love him more.

Watching him tonight, laughing and talking with his friends and family, Sìleas knew she could sit across the breakfast table from him for fifty years and never tire of it. But love was not always equal. If Ian cared for her and did his best to be a good husband, that was better than what most women got from the men they devoted their lives to—and far better than Sileas’s poor mother ever had.

The feelings between them when they made love were so powerful that she believed Ian could come to love her in the way she loved him. When he was inside her, he called her “love” and the beautiful endearment, a chuisle mo chroí, pulse of my heart.

She’d heard many a young woman tell of a man who spoke of love in the throes of passion and was gone before the babe came. Someday, Ian might say these words to her at other times—perhaps across the table or while he held a child of theirs on his knee—and she would know he meant them.

In the meantime, she would take the warm affection he gave her—and, aye, the passion in the night as well—and be glad for it.

But she would wait for that day when he gave his heart to her wholly.

Ian was glad to find the house quiet when they returned. When he opened their bedchamber door for Sìleas, the room was filled with the warm glow of a dozen lit candles. He smiled at his mother’s thoughtfulness.

He took Sìleas’s face in his hands as they stood beside the bed. When he made love to her for the first time in Stirling, his pent-up lust for her had made their coupling frantic, intense. If he were honest with himself, there was an edge of anger to his need to possess her that first time—until the wonder of it took hold of him and shook him to his soul.

On their way home to Skye, they had made love every night in the dark, under his plaid on the cold, damp ground. Each time, there was still the frantic need, the sense that there could never be time enough.

But tonight they were home, in their own bed for the first time as man and wife. Looking into her eyes, he felt an overwhelming tenderness for her.

“I want to make love to you slowly tonight.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she tilted her head back to meet him. Her lips were soft and warm. Desire stirred in him, but he could take his time to savor her. She would be here always. She was his.

He ran his hands down the slope of her back to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. When she put her arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss. For long minutes, they stood by the bed, lost in deep, lingering kisses.

She pulled away to rest her head against his chest and gave a long, contented sigh that made him smile.

“Ye have such lovely hair.” He ran his hand through the long strands, watching the colors slide over his fingers in the candlelight. It had every color of red in it, from gold to ginger to copper and wine.

“Will ye unhook my gown for me?” she asked.

As he reached around her and unfastened the hooks running down her back, it pleased him to think he would be doing this every night. He pushed the gown off her shoulder and kissed her warm, milky skin. When she leaned back to look at him, he could see tiny flecks of gold in the green of her eyes.

The desire he saw in them sent a jolt of lust through him.

“Let’s go to bed, Ian.”

He swallowed as she let her gown fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Before he could get his breath, her chemise followed it.

Apparently, his wife had decided to set a tone for the nights of their marriage. It seemed like a fine one to him. And he was pleased that she’d ceased to fret over her scars as well.

He let his gaze travel over her, from her shining mass of wavy hair, which fell over her bare shoulders and breasts like a wood nymph, to the tight curls that covered her secret place, and then down her long legs, all the way to her slender ankles and feet.

“Ach, ye are beautiful, Sìleas.”

“Your clothes now.” When he sat down on the bed and reached for his boot, she pushed him back. “I’ll do it.”

He never knew how provocative it could be to have a naked woman at his feet pulling his boots off. The glimpse of heaven she gave him had his cock standing straight. When she knelt between his legs and ran her hands up his thighs, he unfastened his belt and tossed it aside without looking to see where it fell.

He was breathing hard as her hands moved up his legs, under his long shirt. Of course, he wore nothing under it. His cock pushed up the cloth calling attention to itself.

Please, Sìl. He bit his lip to keep from begging her to touch him.

She locked eyes with him as she ran her hands up the sides of his hips. “Your shirt?”

“Aye!” He rose up enough to pull it out from under him and whipped it off.

This time, she tortured him by running her hands over the tops of his legs, along the sides of his hips, and then over his chest. Finally, she wrapped her hand around his cock.

As she moved her hand up and down his shaft, he gripped her shoulders and kissed her with all the passion he felt. It was long moments before he remembered he had meant to make love to her slowly. When she broke the kiss, it came back to him… but it was hard to hold on to the thought. Her hair brushed his thighs and belly as she kissed his chest.

When her kisses drifted lower, his mind stopped working altogether.

“Ahh!” The air went out of him when he felt the soft touch of her lips on the tip of his shaft.

“Is that how it’s done?” she asked.

He couldn’t answer, but she must have taken his groan as encouragement for she continued her efforts. They were quite good, but finally, he was able to get the words out to offer a suggestion. “Ye can use your whole mouth, love.”

Sìleas had good instincts and needed no more instruction. Ian lay back on the bed, panting. Vaguely, the thought came to him that he should stop her and make love to her properly, but he couldn’t make himself. What she was doing felt too damned good.

He came in an explosion that nearly killed him—and left him grateful. He pulled her up on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “Ah, love, that was… that was… verra, verra nice…”

He fought the weight of his eyelids, but he hadn’t slept much for close to a fortnight.

He awoke to the smell of the summer heather in her hair. When he opened his eyes, she was sitting up, leaning on one arm and watching him with a smile on her face. She looked pleased with herself.

“Tell me I didn’t sleep long.”

“No. Just a wee doze.”

Judging from the height of the candles, she was telling him the truth. Still, he must have dreamed of her, because he woke up wanting her. He rested a hand on her thigh.

“How did ye know to do that?” Thinking of her mouth on him made him harder.

“I heard the married women talking about how men liked it.”

He’d never appreciated women’s gossip before.

“They were laughing, so I wasn’t sure if they were joking.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I guess they weren’t.”

The candlelight played across her skin. Her nipples were rosy and peaked, and her eyes went dark when he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over the hardened nipple.

“I did like it,” he said.

He pulled her down into a deep kiss and slid his hand between her thighs. She was hot and wet for him. From the way she was kissing him, she didn’t want to wait.

Next time, for certain. Next time, he would take her slowly.

He did. And the time after that as well. They dozed between bouts of lovemaking.

When he awoke for the last time, the candles were gone, and the first light of dawn was coming through the window. He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her sleep. Though her tangled hair looked like a wild storm across the pillow, her face was peaceful.

Ian felt so much tenderness for her that it was like an ache inside him.

Though he’d told her in Stirling he would let her choose another man if she didn’t want him, he knew that now for the lie that it was. He could never have let her go.

He loved her. He didn’t know when it happened, but he suspected it was long before he realized it. With the back of his hand, he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Sìleas didn’t know her own value. He loved her strength, her good heart, her curiosity, and her courage. Though she didn’t like to hear it, he also loved her for her devotion to his family, for there was such goodness in it.

He liked that she said her mind and stood up for herself. And that she gave herself to him without holding back. When she was a wee thing, she trusted him to rescue her from mishaps. And now that she was a woman, she trusted him with her heart.

He would do his best to deserve it, now and always.

When he smelled porridge and heard the murmur of male voices coming from downstairs, he knew he had to get up. Still, he let himself watch Sìleas’s face and the steady rise and fall of her chest for a few moments more. It was hard to make himself leave her, even though he knew he would sleep with her again tonight—and most nights for the rest of his life.

But Ian needed to talk with his father before Connor and the others left. A suspicion too horrible to believe at first had taken root in Ian’s mind about what really happened at Flodden. He hoped his father’s memory had improved with his health.

CHAPTER 31

Sìleas hummed to herself as she washed up at the basin and dressed. How late had she slept? It was quiet downstairs, giving her hope she would find Ian alone. Her face grew warm at the thought of facing Beitris and Payton after last night. What if they had heard her through the walls?

Her limbs were so loose that her legs wobbled as she went down the stairs.