Highland Surrender (29 page)

Robert cleared his throat. “You think she’d kiss you like that, brother? With you stinking and dirty from the yard?”

The men laughed. The spell was broken.

Myles’s chuckle was good-natured, but his eyes remained on her.

She bit her lip and leaned down farther still, until her lips were near his ear. “Take a bath, and I shall kiss you later.”

Then she stood up fast, nearly dumping his head in the dirt, but he sat up on his own strength. Fiona smiled and nodded at Robert and the others. “Carry on, men. Please don’t let me keep you.”

Without another glance at Myles, she turned and flounced away, hearing Robert say as she left, “Tame as a kitten, indeed.”

CHAPTER 30

E
VENING COULD NOT
come fast enough. Fiona’s declaration had shot through his chest and continued south. ’Twas only a kiss she’d promised, but her eyes spoke of more. Something in her mind had changed, and he knew one kiss, one delicious kiss, could light the wick of her desire.

Back in their chamber, he washed and dressed at a leisurely pace, hoping she might arrive and forfeit that kiss immediately. But the time passed and she did not enter. He grew impatient at the thought she meant to tease him further. He’d be late to the evening meal if he lingered any longer, and so he made his way to the great hall and found Tavish, Robert, and his mother already there, waiting and dressed in their finery.

His mother clucked over his bruised eye. “Oh, Myles. Is it painful?”

“’Tis fine, Mother.”

“Robert tells me you took some hard hits in the yard.”

Myles cast a wicked glance at his brother. “Thank you, Robert. I myself might have omitted that.”

Robert’s smile was banal. “I am ever the herald. Where is your lovely bride?”

Myles turned and looked about the hall. “I thought she would be here. She did not come to change.”

“Here she is,” his mother said, looking toward the entryway.

And there she was, indeed.

Vivienne was next to her, dressed in bold crimson, but all eyes must have been on his wife, for she entered the hall wearing a gown of palest peach, so pale one could almost not tell where her skin ended and the dress began. The kirtle beneath was ivory trimmed in lace, and swayed as she walked. She wore the emerald necklace, and his chest tightened at the sight of it. The crowd within the hall murmured their approval.

Her hair was loose, cascading down in ringlets and caught up in the front under a beaded French hood. She was a goddess. He stood a little taller knowing she belonged to him, and tonight, he’d claim her once again.

Fiona stepped onto the dais where they waited, her smile seeming shy and less certain than her appearance would suggest. She made her greetings, along with Vivienne, then looked to him, guileless and direct. She curtsied deep as if she thought to offer him a delectable view of her cleavage. “Forgive me, my lord. I have kept you waiting for too long.”

He heard a chuckle come from Vivienne and wondered at Fiona’s meaning. He extended his arm, thinking just then how he’d love to press his lips against the curve of her neck. “Such beauty is worth waiting for. Shall we dine?”

He didn’t want to dine. Food was furthest from his mind, but he needed this meal over and done with so he might take his bride upstairs and collect upon that promised kiss.

He was dressed in shades of blue, with his dark hair combed and his face clean-shaven. Tonight, he seemed the rogue, mysterious and dark. An air of danger surrounded him, something raw and predatory. And intoxicating.

Heat radiated from his torso as she accepted his arm and let him escort her to her seat. The others in the hall began to take their seats as well, and soon the hall was abuzz with the serving of the meal. Before them, servants set platters of roasted boar, mince pies, and breads warm from the ovens.

The repast smelled divine, but with her heart thumping in her throat, Fiona wondered if she could eat a bite. She felt conspicuous in her gown, for she’d sensed the stares as she’d entered, had heard the pause in conversation, but Myles had looked at her in such a way she’d felt emboldened, if only for a moment.

He looked at her that way again, saying nothing, only caressing her with his eyes until his gaze landed upon her lips and stayed. Her skin tingled from it.

At last, he raised his eyes to hers and smiled. A more seductive look, she could not imagine.

“You are beautiful.”

“So are you,” she said, then gasped at her own foolish honesty.

But he laughed, and so did she.

Sitting on the dais next to Myles, she drank her wine and toyed with her food, but mostly she observed. There was joy within these walls, a kinship she had never witnessed at Sinclair Hall. These people loved one another, and they loved Myles. She could see it in their eyes when they spoke to him, and even once or twice, she felt their warm gazes fall on her. She was becoming one of them.

An effervescent gladness bubbled up inside her breast, and she let it. For once, she did not strive to stuff it down and hide
it behind querulous words or obtuse thinking. She watched her husband chew a bite of bread, the strong line of his jaw moving in a smooth rhythm, and somehow the motion made her flush all over. She looked away and smiled at her private thoughts.

“Is something humorous?” Myles asked.

“No, my lord,” she said, smiling.

He took another tiny bite of bread, his gaze flicking over the gold and emerald at her throat. “You’re wearing your new necklace. I’m pleased to see it.”

She ran her finger over the fine metalwork. “I’m pleased to wear it.”

Her husband turned toward her a little, and she heard his soft sigh. Her heart spun at the earnestness in his expression.

“’Twas a gift, you know, Fiona,” he said softly. “Not a trade. I would spoil you, if you would let me, for no purpose other than to please you.”

“I know.”

“Then ask for something so I may prove it.”

His words stoked a fire low in her belly—no, lower, even. Not because she coveted jewels or a gown or any possessions, but simply because he offered them so readily. He had been unerringly generous to her from their first moment onward, even when she’d tested his every patience. Vivi was right. He was a good man. How could she not desire him?

“I want for little.” That was a lie. She wanted much. She wanted him. “Although, there is one thing I would ask for. Something you promised me once before.”

His eyes lit with hope.

“I need something to ride.”

His jaw went slack, and she laughed at his surprise.

“Back at Sinclair Hall, you promised me a horse of my own. Do you recall?”

He blinked once, slowly, as if to conjure up the memory. And then he smiled broadly. “Ah, yes. A horse. I do recall, and on the morrow, we shall find you one.”

Christ, she was delectable, with her pale gown and her flushed cheeks. If he did not know her better, he would think she meant to flirt, the way she fluttered her lashes and teased as though she were some sought-after courtesan. Then she’d laughed and all the candles in the room seemed to dim at her brightness. The combination was beguiling. Bewitching.

He was besotted.

He’d eaten his food. He knew he had, but even now, he could not remember a bite of it, for all he could taste in his mouth was the kiss he sought to claim.

“I have been troublesome to you,” she said. “And I am sorry for it. I had my reasons, though. And you know what they were.”

His attention narrowed to that one small word. “
Were
?”

She nodded and licked her lips. He’d kiss her here and now if she did that again.

“Yes. But now I’ve had some time to think, and wonder if perhaps I’ve been too hasty in despising you.”

No declaration of love was that, and yet from her, it felt like one. “What brought about this welcome change?”

“Does it matter?”

He regarded her a moment. “No. But I must say, I am most glad to hear of it. We must celebrate.” He whispered the last, as if they shared a secret.

She hid a smile behind her hand. “Perhaps we should.”

“Myles, a word, if you please.” Tavish ambled up and wedged himself into the chair next to him. Marietta had been sitting there, but moments ago had left to check on her husband.

“Now is the not the best of times,” Myles answered.

“It won’t take but a minute. It’s about the roof they’re needing on the gristmill. Now, I was thinking—”

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m sure you have no need of my opinion on this matter. But my lord Tavish, please do not keep my husband up too late drinking. Last night you did so and look what happened to him.” She gestured toward the black eye.

Tavish paused, looking at her in some surprise. Then he winked. “As you wish, Lady Fiona. I shall deliver him to you myself as soon as our business is complete.”

Surely, Tavish could wait with his question, but as soon as Fiona rose from her chair, he began to ramble on about the roof. Myles would listen for a moment, but no longer. Even now, he thought to stuff a roll into the fat man’s mouth and hurry after his bride. Instead, he settled for listening with half an ear and watching the way Fiona’s gown shimmered as she walked—nay, floated—toward the stairs. He had waited this long. He could wait another ten minutes.

Perhaps.

CHAPTER 31

“A
ND ONCE WE’VE
fixed the roof, the entire southwest corner could use shoring up. It’s near to crumbling.”

Tavish took a hearty gulp of wine, and Myles took advantage of the lull in his monologue.

“Your concern is duly noted, Tavish. I’ll set Benson to the task as soon as the sun is up tomorrow. We’ll have the mill up and proper before the next rainfall.” He stood before the man could take another breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other duties.”

“What other duties? It’s near to midnight.”

Myles crossed his arms and looked down at his uncle.

“Oh. Oh, of course. Well then, by all means, do not let me keep you.”

Myles bid the rest of them good night and made haste to his bedchamber. Yet even so, by the time he reached the door his arousal was undeniable. He adjusted the front of his doublet. This was it, then. Christ, if she played a game, it was the cruelest ever. But he’d seen her open smile and the flush on her cheeks. There was no mistaking her invitation. And if he had misunderstood, he’d simply cover her with kisses until they were in perfect agreement.

He paused outside the door. Anticipation, sweet as opening a gift, assailed him. For she was a gift, as was this night and all they were about to share. Myles gave a silent prayer of thanks and pressed against the door. It swung open easily and he stepped inside. The room was cast with light and shadows, for she had lit a dozen candles or more. Logs crackled in the fire. He took another step and closed the door, securing the latch. Then he turned, and the breath kicked from his lungs.

There beside the red-gold glow from the fireplace stood his bride. Tresses unbound and shining, she was an angel descended from heaven, dressed in gossamer, the sheerest bit he’d ever seen. In the breadth of his imagination, he could not envision any other woman looking so blessed and yet so sinful. Any doubts about where this evening might lead fled his mind. Tonight, she would be his.

“You are ever a surprise to me, woman. But this is my favorite thus far.” His voice was husky, even to his own ears.

She smiled, shy in spite of her wanton appearance. “Good, for I’m not certain I can best this.”

“I cannot imagine better. You are a vision.” And she was. To simply gaze on her was a joy, but to touch her would be pure bliss.

He walked close, until she was just an arm’s reach away, and still he did not lift his hands from his sides. He wanted to memorize her, to drink her in and not disturb the perfection of the moment.

Her lips parted, her pink tongue ran along them, and he nearly buckled at the knees. Oh, how he wanted her. He wanted that tongue on his lips and those pale, slender arms around his neck. But mostly, he wanted her crying in release at his touch. She was ready this time. No longer the tender miss she was on their wedding night. Now she’d had time to grow accustomed to him, to decide for herself what she wanted. And she wanted him.