Charming the Shrew (24 page)

T
AYG HELD AS
tightly to his raging emotions as he held Cat in his arms. She was killing him, torturing him, daring him, and he could do nothing but help her along. She had set up this farce, and now she made it all too real. And damn her, he wanted it to be real. Never had he felt the way he did when she was in his arms. Never had he experienced desire so strong it twisted in his gut until he could barely think. Never had he wanted anyone so much—and not just physically—though that was his most pressing desire.

He looked down at her contentedly leaning against him, a smile playing over her full lips, a twinkle of happiness in her eyes. She laughed at something Niall said to one of the twins and the sound was like the grandest music he had ever heard. She turned to say something to the friar, and he felt a pull of jealousy at the hand she laid upon the man’s arm. He pulled her tightly to his side before he could stop himself, earning a surprised glare from her that quickly changed to a heated look as she lightly placed that same hand upon his cheek and kissed him.

The look that passed between them made him tremble with its openness. There was no pretense there, no calculated glance, nothing but a lass in love. The knowledge rocked him as he recognized its mate in his own heart. He loved her and not in spite of, but because of, her sharp tongue, her rapid temper, her passion, and the way he came alive in her company. She would bring that same passion to all aspects of her life, and he could imagine no less in his own.

He wanted her, and not just for this night, but for all the nights to come and the days too, for the days were as exciting in her company as he was sure the nights would be. They would be a grand match, and they would start right here, right now.

Cat laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped one arm around his waist, wriggling just a little so that her hip was close against his and the side of her breast pressed against his ribs.

Tayg’s breath caught in his throat, and he heard a chuckle from the friar.

“Shall we have a wee dram of John’s aqua vitae?” Gair asked. “’Tis the best whiskey in all of Scotland, or so he tells me.”

“Aye, ’tis. The brotherhood of Auskaird Abbey has made this for over a hundred years.” He pulled an earthen jug from his saddlebags, which rested in a corner of the room. “We have perfected the recipe to give only the finest, smoothest, most potent—” he grinned at his cousin “—whiskey in all of Scotland. The king himself requires our whiskey to be served at his table.”

“Och, you’re blowing a hot wind there, my cousin,” Gair said, “but I have tasted your brew before and I agree, ’tis a fine drink.” He pulled five small wooden cups off a shelf and handed them down to the friar. When the adults each had a cup, Lina raised hers.

“To Cat and Tayg! May they live long and happy and bring many a bonny bairn into this world!”

Tayg raised his cup. “And to our fine auld—” he looked at Gair “—and new friends who have helped us celebrate the occasion!”

“And to the king’s health!” the friar added. At an odd look from Gair he added, “Well, ’tis his whiskey we are drinking.”

Everyone laughed, saluted each other with their cups, and drank of the friar’s offering.

“’Tis fit for the king,” Cat said. “’Tis where you are heading, is it not, Friar John?”

Tayg tensed at the turn in the topic. He did not want Cat with her sharp mind putting anything together. She still did not know his true purpose for taking her to the king, and the less said about politics the better as far as he was concerned.

“Aye, lass. I am bound for the wedding between Princess Maude and the Earl of Ross’s heir. ’Tis not a sight I wish to miss.”

“We should excuse ourselves, wife,” Tayg said.

“Finish your whiskey, lad,” the friar said, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll not bore your lass here to sleep, I promise you. The doings of the king and his Highland chiefs are far from boring.”

“Aye, ’tis true, but Cat is tired from our journey and would seek our bed.” Tayg looked at Cat and noticed the pale blush stealing up the length of her lovely neck. He knew how to distract her from thoughts of kings and royal weddings. He leaned near and nuzzled her neck. “Though I daresay she is not thinking of sleep,” he said so quietly he thought only she heard, but the friar erupted in laughter.

“Aye, lad, I daresay she is not.” He winked at Cat, and Tayg had to smother that strange jealous twisting in his chest.

Cat said nothing, keeping her eyes demurely downcast when Tayg wanted to see the snap of anger there, the sharp spark of temper.

“I am tired,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

He saw challenge there, and heat. Fire sparked, but he did not think it was temper that fanned the flames, but rather something deeper, darker. Something that reached out and sang through his bones, rushed through his blood, raked over his skin. Desire pulled him to his feet, dragging Cat with him. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her away, but he was not yet healed enough to do so. He would have to satisfy himself by keeping her tucked close to him.

“We would bid you all a good night,” he said, desperately trying to control the trembling that threatened to show itself in his voice. “The meal was excellent, Lina, and we thank you most humbly for your hospitality, but we are…” He glanced down at Cat, who stood with her arm around his waist and a slightly dazed look upon her face.

“We are tired,” she finished, never taking her eyes from his.

“Oof!” Gair rubbed his ribs where Lina had apparently elbowed him. The weans snickered at their father. “I am reminded that I must need talk with you a moment, young Tayg,” he said, though his glare was at his serenely smiling wife.

Before either Tayg or Cat could cry off, Gair had let the cold wind in through the doorway as he disappeared into the night.

Tayg squeezed Cat. “I shall be but a moment…wife.” He kissed her forehead and slipped through the door into the cold.

Gair awaited him, standing near the corner of the cottage in the lee of the bitter wind.

“You need not scowl so,” he said as Tayg joined him.

“You cannot see my face in this darkness.”

“Aye, but I know where ye wish to be. I ken well what ye’re wantin’ right now.”

“Then why are we out here?” Tayg couldn’t keep the impatience from his voice. As far as he was concerned, this was his wedding night—’twas only left for him to inform the bride.

“Easy, lad. I would but counsel you to go slowly with the lass. Do not rush her. I know you are anxious, but you must woo her even as you no doubt have done these last weeks or months. Just because she is your wife now does not mean you have left behind the lass you wooed.”

“I will endeavor to go slowly,” he said. “Nights are long this time of year, and we have plenty of time.”

“Aye, lad, ’tis true. The mattress was newly stuffed on St. Aidan’s Day and still smells of fragrant heather, so ’twill be a bonny spot to pass this night. Go slowly with the lass and ye shall have all that you could wish for in a wife.”

The man’s advice was sounder than he knew. Tayg took a deep breath of the cold air and told himself that nothing must happen this night. He must not rush her. She would realize the feelings she held for him soon and that they must wed, then all would be complete. But he must give her time to come to the idea herself. The cold wind cut through the wool of his trews and whipped his hair around his face. Aye, the cold was good. He took another deep breath and felt a quiet calmness seep into him.

“Are ye ready to go in?” Gair asked.

“Aye. Thank you for your advice. I shall heed it.”

Gair hmphed, but Tayg could not tell his intention from the sound. “Let us go in where ’tis warm.”

Tayg opened the door and found everyone still gathered around the table except for Cat. She was gone. Panic raced through him.

“Where—”

“Be calm, lad,” Lina said, her smile broad in her round face. “Your bride awaits you above.” She pointed at a ladder in the far corner that led to the loft. “The weans shall sleep down here this night so you have all the privacy you need.”

Tayg’s blood quickened at the woman’s implication, and his earlier resolve vanished. He managed not to run to the ladder, but ’twas a near thing.

He wanted Cat, and he wanted her now.

C
ATRIONA TOOK HER
leave of the family amid much whispering and giggling. She climbed the ladder to the loft then stood, staring at the simple box bed pushed into the corner. An oil lamp sat on a shelf, illuminating the cozy space with its tiny flickering flame. The bed, tucked under the eaves, pulled at Catriona.

Soon Tayg would climb the ladder and join her here, in this intimate space. The thought of his long body stretched out next to hers in that bed had every nerve singing and heat gathering, curling through her until her heart raced and her breath came fast and shallow. God help her! She wanted to share that bed with him, wanted to feel his hands on her, taste his mouth again. The man was like a fine wine, making her muzzy-headed and foolish, and yet she craved another taste. ’Twas lust, she was sure, but somehow it was deeper, darker, earthier than lust. The man had invaded her thoughts, rousing disturbing desires with his kisses.

That kiss at the table had changed everything. Raw desire had poured through her, tempered by the strength of Tayg’s tenderness, his gentleness, the way he grinned afterward as if he were embarrassed at his display of feeling.

They had played their parts too well, but ’twas no longer a game. She wanted him in truth, and though she was not well versed in these things, she was certain he wanted her as well.

Heat flashed through her as it had the night by the fire in their travelers’ hut—the night he had raised a firestorm within her to rival the gale that had whistled outside.

She heard laughter from below and remembered how he had laughed along with the family at the evening meal. He was a rare man—charming and kind, funny, strong, caring, protective, more than pleasing to look upon, and even a bit jealous, if his behavior tonight could be trusted…and it could, she realized.

She trusted him. The sudden knowledge was sweet, simple, true. She trusted him as she had never trusted anyone before, with her life, with her heart. With her body.

The heat pulsing in her veins ignited to a roaring fire at the thought of the two of them twined together on the bed. He would be a passionate, tender lover, she had no doubt. And he desired her as much as she desired him.

If only…

Nay, there would be no “if onlys” tonight.

She trusted this man. She loved this man. Nothing else should matter.

The truth sank in, filling her heart with a wonder she had never before experienced. It was calmer, subtler than desire, but just as potent, just as fierce.

She loved Tayg, and the rest would work itself out somehow. They would figure out a way to help her clan. Together there was nothing they couldn’t overcome. She wished to be his bride and so she would be…if he would have her.

A moment of doubt threatened to quench her exhilaration. Would he have her? She had felt his desire, his passion in his kiss, had seen his heart in his eyes though she had only just recognized it for what it was.

She stopped her pacing and began to loosen her hair with trembling fingers. ’Twas not what she had said she wanted, to marry a bard, but he was the man her heart yearned for. She loved him, and she was certain he loved her. All else would sort itself out in time.

Tayg’s voice carried from below. Catriona’s heart leaped as fiery desire swept through her once more. She smiled. They would not be the first pair to celebrate the wedding night before the wedding.

T
AYG STOOD AT
the top of the ladder in the low-ceilinged loft. She was there, waiting for him, the light from a single oil lamp casting a golden glow over her. Her eyes were big, her hands clasped in front of her. She had loosed her hair from its braid, and it cascaded over her shoulders in dark waves.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t force his feet to close the distance between them. The need of his body warred with the logic scrambling through his head.

He wanted her and not for just this night. But would she have him once she knew he’d lied to her about who and what he was? Would she have him if she believed him an inept bard? The look on her face and the heat of her kiss downstairs told him she would. Soon though, very soon, he would have to reveal the truth to her.

But not now. Now he could only think about his beautiful Cat and what she did to him.

Slowly he moved to her, holding her gaze with his own. He could not tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He stopped in front of her and reached out to run his hand over her silky hair. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. His heart ached with the simple act of acceptance.

“You are the bonniest lass I have ever known,” he said, his voice more earnest than he intended. She opened her eyes but said nothing. “I must ask you something most serious.”

She blinked slowly, then rose on her tiptoes and placed a sweet kiss upon his lips.

“I must tell you something first,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. They stood there, silent for a moment. Catriona could not look him in the eye, did not know how to tell him.

“What is it, lass?” He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear in a gesture that both calmed her with its simple familiarity and burned her as her mind swept to other things his talented hands had…could…would…do to her.

She raised her eyes to meet his worried gaze and smiled a shy smile. “I wish to tell you…”

She stopped, unable to form the words that would leave her open to hurt from this man if he did not return her feelings.

“Aye, lass?”

Catriona chewed on her lower lip for a moment and looked away from his distracting cinnamon eyes. She must tell him. “I did not mean to…What I mean to say is…I never meant for this to…”

She glanced up at Tayg, hoping he would say something that would rescue her from her stammering. He only cocked an eyebrow at her and waited. That irritated her just enough to lend courage to her tongue.

“I never meant to fall in love with you, but I have. There, I’ve said it. I love you, Tayg.”

A huge grin burst from him, and he swept her up in his arms and swung her around before setting her back on her feet. He kept her in the circle of his arms, and she held him close. He kissed her as he had at the dinner table, and Catriona knew she had not judged his feelings wrong.

“I love you too, sweet Cat.” His kiss was like fire to tinder, catching ablaze within her and burning away all thought save the feel of his mouth upon hers.

“I know that there is much yet to learn about one another, but there will be time enough for that later. I must ask you something most serious. I have thought much about my future in these last days.”

He kissed her again until her head was spinning and she feared her knees would collapse if he did not hold her so tightly.

“I would have you be part of my future,” he said quietly, “our future. Indeed I cannot imagine any future without you.”

Catriona had never seen Tayg so serious, not even that first day when they were caught in the storm.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked, his lips still against hers, still wreaking havoc on her senses. “Cat?” He pulled away far enough to rest his forehead against hers, but no further. “Tell me you will be my wife, for I cannot bear to hear otherwise.”

She kissed him slowly, then smiled up at him. “Aye, Tayg, I will be your wife. I have given you my heart, ’tis only fitting that my body follow in its path, but do not make me wait for my wedding night.” She grinned at him. “I fear I will be naught but ashes if you do not take me to your bed this night, indeed this very moment.”

He laughed and hugged her so fiercely she feared for her ribs, but she laughed with him, sharing a happiness she had never known, had never hoped to know.

Raw need quickly burned through Tayg’s relief at her acceptance. He pulled her close and kissed her, releasing all the mixed-up feelings of the last hour, indeed of the last days.

She tasted of smoky whiskey and the subtle herbs of the meal. He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her until she was pressed firmly against the length of him. He ran his hands over her back. She moaned, low in her throat, and his blood surged, hot and needy. She pulled him as close as she could, moving against him, driving him mad. They needed each other, and he was sure they would fit together perfectly.

He kissed her again, reveling in the feel of her against him. He showered kisses over her perfect skin and down the long column of her neck. He slipped his fingers through the heavy silk of her hair. Never before had he felt this hunger, this burning need for a woman that overwhelmed all rational thought.

Catriona knew what heaven was like. The sensations running through her wherever her body and Tayg’s met could only be divinely created. Heat traveled through her veins and over her skin. Where their mouths met and danced there was fire, and somehow everything he did, every place he touched her seemed to feed the flames that threatened to overwhelm her.

Coolness surprised her, but the heat of his mouth on her bared breasts made every thought vanish until there was nothing but the feeling of his lips on her flesh, his mouth tugging at her, and somehow all of this feeding the fire low in her belly. She could feel her own moistness and wondered at the way her body seemed to know what to do when her mind was hazy and overwhelmed with sensations.

She tugged at the belt that held his plaid about his lean hips. She needed to feel his skin, taste him as he was tasting her. Needed. Wanted. She wasn’t sure how, but suddenly they were both standing in a puddle of discarded clothing, naked for each other to see.

But seeing wasn’t enough.

She heard his groan as he pulled her close, pressing her to him. She could feel him, pressed against her belly, branding her with his heat and his desire. She wanted that branding. She cared for naught except the feel of his mouth on her, his hands traveling over her body, even as she explored him with her own.

She moved her hands over his back, letting her fingers trail over the muscles his winter clothing concealed so well. She moved lower, daring to brush her palms over his buttocks, the skin there surprisingly smooth. Slowly, with her eyes closed so she could concentrate on what she was feeling, she moved her hands around, over his ribs, gentling her touch as she moved over the tender spot where he’d been injured, until her fingers threaded through the springy hair on his chest. She rubbed her breasts against his chest too, wanting to feel the coarse hair against her sensitized flesh.

“Cat.” He ground out the single strangled word as he shifted from statue-still to a man in motion.

His hands cupped her breasts, lifting them, caressing them, and then he dipped his head and tasted them again. He laid her back on the bed, kissing her until her head swam and her body yearned. He moved down her, leaving a trail of branding kisses along her neck, over her breasts, and down her belly. He kissed her inner thigh, urging her legs apart. The soft bristles of his whiskers tickled, and she gasped as he kissed her there, where the fire burned brightest, until she thought she would cry with wanting. She reached for him, pulling him to her until he lay in the cradle of her thighs. She didn’t know why, but she needed to rock against him.

Tayg stilled her hips with a hand.

“Cat.” He rose onto his elbows and framed her face with his hands. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, the most interesting, the most challenging. Her temper forced him to act. Her vulnerability pushed him to protect, a need no other woman had ever drawn forth in him. And yet he did not wish to protect on this night. He wished to make her his own.

“Are you sure you want this, sweet Cat?”

“Aye, Tayg, I do.” She moved under him, sending flames racing over his body. Her hands were on him, urging him forward. Her passion was as strong as her temper, dear God!

He kissed her and stroked into her, breaking her maidenhead in one quick thrust.

Her breath hitched and he held very still, letting her get used to the feeling of him inside her. He kissed her again, quickly fanning the flames back to a raging inferno. When she started to whimper and move beneath him he held still a moment longer, then let the force of his passion take over.

They exploded against each other, as if they had waited their entire lives for this one moment, each lost in the other and the exquisite feelings their joined bodies created. He heard his name, then heard his own voice whispering words of encouragement and endearment.

They moved with each other, against each other, over and under each other until at last he could not hold back any longer. He pinned her under him, his hands capturing hers, and stroked into her, long and fast and hard. She wrapped her legs about his waist, and a moment later a high, keening sound came from her. He released his last hold on sanity and lost himself in her.