The Highlander's Reward (11 page)

She’d have to ask Magnus if the abbot had sent any messengers. But seeing as how they only just arrived that morning themselves it seemed a little silly to ask so soon.

Lydia dressed her, fitted her braided leather belt around her waist with her eating knife and the long dagger Magnus had gifted her. She brushed her hair out until it was dry and shiny.

“Ye look beautiful, my lady.”

“Thank you. I will only need to braid my hair and then I shall be finished.”

Lydia shook her head. “His lairdship asked that ye keep your hair down.”

Arbella blanched. She’d not been in public with her hair down since she was a child. “I do not like to wear my hair down.”

She wasn’t going to do something she wasn’t comfortable
with, whether or not Magnus asked or demanded it. She made quick work of braiding her hair and then swept from the room, leaving a stunned Lydia behind. Let the woman be stunned. She was not going to play the games of her husband. Her hair was hers.

She descended the stairs carefully, holding
the gown above her booted feet, and then entered the great hall.

Court was apparently already in session. The room was filled with clansmen and at the far end of the room was Magnus, sitting in a tall-backed wooden chair. He beckoned her forward and the people parted to let her pass. She sat in the chair beside him, feeling shrunken by its massive size.

Magnus stared at her hair. “I told the woman to leave it down,” he grumbled, his burr more apparent in his irritation.

“And I told her I wanted it up.”

Magnus glowered. “She is to listen to my instructions.”

“She did. I braided it myself.” Arbella turned back to the crowd. “What is
happening?”

“’Tis Keith’s trial,” he answered before addressing the crowd. “Keith Sutherland. Ye stand trial today
for assaulting Lady Sutherland. What say ye to the charges?”

Keith stepped forward looking down at his feet in shame. Arbella caught sight of a pretty woman, a baby in her arms and another
clutching her leg. The woman was in tears. She had to be his wife.

“Guilty, my laird,” Keith said quietly.

“Ye would not defend yourself?” Magnus asked.

“I have nothing to defend. I did intentionally try to harm her.”

Arbella reached up and touched the spot on her neck where he’d nicked her. There was nothing but a tiny scab now.

“Who will defend this man?”

An older man stepped forward. “I will, my laird.”

Magnus nodded and indicated with his hand for the man to speak.

“My son has only ever been honorable to this clan and to ye, my laird. He has been loyal, and never before done something wrong. I would beg for mercy.”

“I shall consider your plea and Keith’s past record of loyalty.
Anyone else?” Magnus asked.

Arbella did not want to wait for anyone else to step forward. The man was only allowed two voices, and there was only one left.
Hers.

“I will.” Arbella stood and descended the two steps to stand in front of Keith—between the man and Magnus.

Magnus sat forward, flames almost visible from his ears. “Ye would?” he ground out.

“Aye, I would. The man was mad from the battle. He saw me only as an English person bent on harming you, my laird. I do believe he was trying to protect you.”

The crowd was stunned into silence. Arbella turned to Keith, his eyes stricken, filling with tears.

“Would you agree, Keith?”
she asked.

The man swallowed but did not answer.

“Come now, tell his lairdship that you only sought to protect him from the English,” she prodded.

Keith nodded slowly.
“’Tis true.”

Magnus grunted
, sat back and slapped his hands on his thighs.

“Consider yourself lucky, Keith. Ye’ve a champion in my wife. Only the Lord knows why, for I would have seen ye flogged. Ye shall instead
owe me a week’s wages. Dismissed.”

“Thank
ye, my laird,” Keith said. “And thank ye, my lady. My deepest apologies for having harmed ye.”

“You are forgiven. Go and join your family.”

Keith hurried to his wife and children who clung to him, crying in relief.

Magnus stepped beside her. “Ye saved a man.”

Arbella looked up at him. “I saved a family.”

“Family is important to
ye?”

“Aye.”

“Ye will fit in well then. We value family above all things. This clan is my priority. I’m glad to have married ye, Arbella.”

His words meant more to her than she thought he knew. Hearing him say that he was glad to have married her, for something other than desire, lifted her spirits,
made her heart swell with pleasure. Which also irritated her. But she thrust her irritation aside and instead smiled at her husband.

“I am famished.”

A wide grin curved his full lips. “I told Cook ye like vegetables.”

She just might melt after all…

Chapter Eleven

Arbella paced the chamber that she was to call hers and Magnus’ but which felt very much like her husband’s room alone. Everything was large, stark, uninviting.

It was cold too.

After the evening meal he’d had her escorted to their chamber where he said he would join her shortly.

She rubbed her arms in an effort to warm herself, but it did little. She suspected that her problem had more to do with nerves. This would be
the second night they would spend together in the same room. And being alone with Magnus was becoming more and more difficult.

Especially after today’s bath…

Her skin prickled at the erotic memories of his hands touching her between her thighs. His mouth on her breasts, his intense, heart-stopping kisses. She touched her lips, shivering with anticipated pleasure.

But what was she thinking?

Bedding the laird would only increase her problems. If her father was alive, he was surely on his way to the Highlands with Marmaduke in tow. The entire clan would be in jeopardy if she consummated her marriage.

Therein lay her other dilemma. She wanted to be with Magnus. As much as he’d wounded her pride by saying he only wanted to bed her, she understood he truly did have some measure of deeper feeling for her. He’d said he was glad to marry her. He’d even gone so far as to inform Cook of her preference for vegetables—and the meals placed before her were truly decadent.

Was she so selfish though as to put her own wants before that of the clan? Before innocent lives were lost?

Then again,
what if her father never came for her? What if he’d been killed in the battle and Marmaduke assumed her to be lost? She would languish in this place until she shriveled up and died, all with having denied herself the chance for happiness.

Happiness.
Was it possible to have it with Magnus? There were so many questions she didn’t have answers to. Her future appeared to be spiraling further and further from her grasp. That feeling was unsettling. She wanted the control back—what little she’d ever been allowed.

His grin, his winks, his strong demeanor, the way he touched her…all bespoke of the joy she could find in living her life with h
im.

Unless he tired of her.
Glenda had said that Scotsmen had hoards of mistresses while their wives were left to cry alone in their cold beds.

Arbella laughed. Glenda made up some terrible tales, was
it just another one? Could she trust Magnus with her heart?

“What are ye laughing at?”

She whirled around to see Magnus leaning against the doorframe. She was momentarily struck breathless. He’d shaved off his beard and stood before her with his chiseled features all the more prominent. His lips were perfectly sculpted and had her immediately thinking about his kisses. His jaw was strong, square, and a dimple set the middle. He was so handsome. She took a moment to just stare.

“I was recollecting the many truths Glenda imparted on me before I left England.”

Magnus groaned and rolled his eyes. “Many truths, ye say?”

Arbella smiled, wicked intent bubbling on the surface. “Oh, yes. I’ve decided I quite believe her.”

Her husband pushed off the door and closed it quietly. He stepped toward her, his moves purposeful, and she stood riveted, wondering what he would say or do next.

“Which
truth
had ye laughing this time around?”

She daren’t tell him about the mistresses else he
gather where her thoughts had been headed. Her cheeks flamed anyway. “The men never sleep.”

“Sometimes we dinna.”
He stopped within inches of her, reaching out to brush his fingers over her collarbone.

Without a thought, she reached up and stroked his
jawline and chin. His skin was smooth, soft yet prickly. “You shaved.”

“Aye.”

“Why?” Not that she didn’t like it. She liked it very much. Her heart beat a little faster.

“I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Aye.
My brother Ronan bet I would—” He did not finish. Instead, he took her hand that still caressed his cheek and pressed his lips to her palm.

She shivered at the small contact. As insignificant as it seemed, the touch of his lips to her palm sent her body
reeling inside.

“You are trying to distract me.”

“Aye.”

“When did Ronan return
? Did he bring your sister?” He had not been in the great hall for dinner and she looked forward to befriending Magnus’ younger sister.

“A few minutes after ye came upstairs.”
He kissed her wrist, rolling back her sleeve and kissing the inside of her forearm. “And no, he did not bring her. She is to return on the morrow with my cousins. Ye shall meet them at the nooning.”

Arbella bit her lip, hard. “Will you not tell me?”

“Tell ye what?” He tickled the flesh of her arm with his tongue, and she sighed, almost forgetting what she’d asked him.

Almost.

“The bet?”

Magnus sighed, kissed her knuckles. “He bet I would
resist marrying…a Scotswoman.”

“And
I see he won.”

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Dinna be sorry, lass. Ye saved me.”

“How?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “If not for marrying
an English lass, my beard just might have grown to my toes.”

Arbella chuckled. “Well, then,” she touched his shaved chin again, “I am glad to have helped.”

“Ye’ve helped more than ye know.”

Before she could ponder the meaning of his words he swooped down but stopped a breath away.

“May I?”

“Aye,” she said, closing her eyes
, anticipating the delicious feeling of his lips on hers.

His kiss was tender, enticing. He brushed his lips back and forth over hers, licked teasingly
and then nibbled on her lower lip. Her entire body came alive, and she curled her arms around his neck, opening her mouth for his further exploration, taking note that his beard no longer tickled her nose and cheeks. The way he touched her had her melting…boneless.

Kissing like this was only bound to take them one place—to bed. All of her doubts warred with her need, with her desires for not only contact of the flesh, but a life with Magnus which promised to be rich in adventure and warmth.

She pushed against his chest, pulling her lips from his. She met his gaze, swallowed hard, then said, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Aye?”

“If we are to…to…” She waved her hand at the bed. “I must be reassured.”

“Anything,
mo cridhe
.”

She didn’t know the meaning of the endearment he bestowed on her, but it made her feel comforted, cared for, nonetheless.

“Will you and I being married in truth harm your clan?”

“Nay, why would
ye think that? ‘Twill only give us all strength, a future. Together we will create the next Sutherland leader.”

Oh, if he only knew how
much his words lifted her heart—and overwhelmed her.

“I am afraid,” she admitted, biting her lip. “If my father were to come here, he would bring an army.”

“We shall have sufficient warning if your father comes our way. I will protect ye.”

“’Tis not me I’m worried about.”

“Ye’re worried over me?”

“
Aye, and your people.”

“They are your people too.”

“I do not wish our marriage to bring them harm.” Absently she stroked his chest.

“Do ye want me, Arbella? Do ye want me as your husband? Ye’ve not had much time to think on it. I promised I wouldna touch ye unless ye asked, and I stand by my
word. Dinna worry over me or the clan. If ye wish to be their mistress, they will stand by ye. We will find a resolution with your father should we have to.”

He made it all sound so
simple. She felt her fears abate somewhat.

“Do you want me as your wife?”

He pressed his hands to either side of her face, his gaze meeting hers. He kissed her gently on the lips, before his demeanor turned serious. “With every fiber of my being. Ye are mine, Arbella. Now and always.”

She needed no more words f
rom him. Hearing the possession in his tone, in his declaration, that was enough. She knew at that moment, they could be happy together, that their marriage could even grow into one filled with love. Her heart warmed. She did want this. She did want him. Arbella wouldn’t turn her back now. She would forge ahead, just like a warrior did in battle. Magnus would be her future.

Realizing he waited for her to respond, she did so by standing up on her tip-toes and pressing her mouth to his for a searing kiss. She gave him all she was in that kiss. Stroked her tongue over his, tasting the sweet wine he’d drunk at dinner, and the mint he must have chewed afterwards.

Magnus groaned and lifted her into the air, his lips never leaving hers.

He carried her to the bed, setting her gently upon the edge, and slowly he laid her back, settling himself lengthwise beside her.
There was no desire within her to pull back from his embrace; in fact it was exactly the opposite. She sank into the warmth of his hold.

He
explored her shoulders, her breasts, caressing gently over her nipples as he’d done before, but this time she let herself fully enjoy it. Previously, she’d always held back a little, thinking she would not give into the pleasure of his touch completely. Now, she knew they would be man and wife in truth, and she gave herself to him wholeheartedly.

She trailed her fingers over the muscled length of his arms and back, reveling in the corded
sinew as he flexed and relaxed beneath her touch.

Magnus moved to kiss her neck, teasing her flesh with his tongue and sending chills racing along her limbs. She whimpered as he sucked gently on an earlobe.

“Ye are so beautiful, Arbella,” he whispered against her ear. “I couldna have dreamed I’d be making love to an angel such as ye.”

His words had her soaring over the moon, her heart turning over in response. Magnus pulled away for a moment, gazing down at her, an appreciative smile on his face. Lord but he was arrogant. Ironically, she liked his arrogance, his knowledge of just how to please her. He trailed his finger
tips over her chest, brushing the milky tops of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell heavily with each quickened breath.

“What would ye have me do?” His voice was husky with desire
, sending frissons of pleasure along her spine.

“Kiss me…”

“Where, lass? Here?” He dipped his head to her neck, trailing his lips to the valley between her breasts.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He tugged lightly on her gown until her hardened nipple was exposed through the film of her thin shift. He captured the tip between his teeth, teasing gently. The gentle tug of his teeth and heat of his breath made her moan and arch her back.

The tingling in the pit of her stomach built, filling her womb with need. Between her thighs grew dewy and delicious sensations washed over her in waves.

He lifted up, nudging her thighs gently apart, he settled between her legs. She jumped at the contact of his engorged shaft pressed so hotly against her sex, even if they were separated by layers of clothing. Magnus groaned, his forehead falling to hers, and he captured her lips again for a thoroughly arousing kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers running through his hair. “Oh, Magnus,” she whispered against his lips.

He growled in response, dragging his lips from hers to travel down her neck and over her chest again. This time, he tugged her chemise out of the way so he could fully suckle her nipples. His mouth was hot velvet, driving her to the brink of madness. She writhed beneath him, arched her back and then writhed some more with the increased contact it brought from his erection to her core.