The Highlander's Reward (14 page)

“Are ye all right?” Magnus leaned over and asked.

She jerked away at the warm contact of his shoulder against hers. He looked at her with confusion in his eyes.

“Aye, I simply have a lot on my mind.”

“I promised ye a wedding feast when we came to Dunrobin, I hope ye know this is not it. I was thinking that once we’ve located your family, we could plan it then.”

Why did he have to be so thoughtful? She wanted to dislike him
—it would help her focus on what was really important—but instead, she melted a little knowing that he actually thought about her and her feelings.

She smiled weakly. “Seems unfair to celebrate when I know not the sufferings of those I care about.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes but was quickly replaced by the hardening of his dark green eyes. “Aye, we shall see to those ye care about.”

Arbella realized then that he assumed by her words she did not care about him. She
opened her mouth to speak, but Heather leaned in to ask her brother a question. Arbella was thankful. She didn’t know what she would have said anyway. She couldn’t very well tell him she cared for him. Uncertainly warred within her regarding her feelings for the man. She cared to a certain degree—more than she was willing to admit.

She had to stop caring about
Laird Sutherland.

When the meal ended, she excused herself and rushed up to her chamber
. She needed some time alone to think.

Six days passed and with it Arbella’s anxiety only grew. It’d been nearly a fortnight since she’d last seen her father
. Only bad news could come now.

She’d avoided Magnus like
she avoided venison and mutton, keeping to herself during the day, not speaking during meals and making sure she pretended to be fast asleep when he approached their bedroom at night. Her body betrayed her each time he sprawled out beside her, his heat radiating off his skin. He would brush the hair from her face, kiss her neck, slide his hand over hip, and she perfected a flawless snore each time. Her nipples however hardened, aching for his touch. Her thighs quivered, and her channel grew slick with need. She had to bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep from moaning.

On the seventh morning, Magnus stormed into their chamber as she dressed. She clutched her gown to her body only wearing a chemise.

“Wife,” he snarled.

Arbella
took a step back. He looked positively mad, ferocious…and so striking. He had some sort of power over her. She felt his magnetism draw her in even when she fought against it. She wanted to kiss the snarl from his lips, to stroke his furrowed brow.

“What is it
?” she squeaked.

His gaze roved hungrily over her and he looked ready to devour her whole. Her
entire body tingled with anticipation.

He shut the door behind him and stalked toward her. When he was a foot away he stopped. “Ye’ve been avoiding me, and I intend to find out why.”

She frowned, but said nothing.

“Have ye nothing to say?”

“What would you have me say, Magnus?” Her shoulders slumped. She had no energy to fight him. “’Tis the truth.”

“Why?”

“I…” She didn’t want to spill her soul to him. “’Tis nothing.”

“’Tis something.
Ye’ve been pretending to be asleep beside me each night, even though your body shivers and trembles beneath my hand—and by the way, your fake snore is awful. Ye’ve not spoken to me during our meals, and hide during the day. Ye were not this way when ye first arrived. I may not know ye well, but I know ye enough to see that something is wrong.”

Arbella fisted her hands at her side
. “You are right. You know nothing about me. I don’t belong here.”

Magnus’
eyes skimmed the pebbled peaks of her nipples. She’d nearly forgotten that she’d held her gown up to cover her sheer chemise. Even now her body betrayed her. She yanked her gown back in front of her chest.

“Not for lack of trying, Arbella.
And ye are here now. The clan has accepted ye. I have accepted ye. Why do ye refuse to accept us?”

“I don’t want to be merely accepted!” She didn’t intend to shout, but the words burst from her before she could pull them back. “I miss my home. I miss my family. I am alone here.” The last of her words came out quietly.

Magnus stepped forward and pulled her into his embrace. She instantly curled against him, her curves fitting his stronger lines.

“I’ve had word.”

“What?” She shoved him away. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I’ve only received it right before I came to find
ye.”

“What news?”

“Your father lives. He’s been seen, but there is no word as to where he is now, only that he remains in Scotland—with the English. My scouts tell me he has been...scouring the countryside.”

She chewed her bottom lip. She knew why he would be scouring the country. He was looking for her. That meant he had no idea where she was.
It also meant her sister was still at home. Their father had left retainers to protect her but if Stewart decided to strike back at Arbella being stolen, Aliah might be his target. Arbella could not allow that to happen. “What of my sister?”

“I dinna know.”

Arbella frowned. “If my father has not yet returned home, perhaps ’tis best that we fetch her?”

“Aye, as soon as Blane returns I will have him
retrieve your sister. ’Tis best for him to do it as he can easily enter England without being found out. And I shall leave a note.”

“A note?”

“’Tis the honorable thing to do when one steals a man’s daughter—he must at least let the man know where he’s taken her. And ’twould appear I am about to house two of Baron de Mowbray’s daughters.”

Chapter Fourteen

Magnus wanted desperately to take his wife to bed.

But after relaying the news of her father’s whereabouts Arbella had yanked on her gown and swiftly exited the room in search of Lydia to help her prepare a guest room for her sister
—even though it could be a month before she arrived.

He’d not even had a chance to say one thing
, she’d rambled on so much.

He was frustrated beyond measure. The only way he knew how to get rid of his frustration—besides rutting a woman until the bed crashed against the wall—was to brawl with his men.

Donning his weapons, he headed for the fields where his men trained, his gait steady and purposeful. For the next hour, he proceeded to bash some heads together and batter some bodies until he came to his brother, Ronan.

Ronan dropped his weapons and raised his arms in the air.
“Nay, brother. I’ll not take a beating from ye.”

“Ye have no choice. I’m your laird and this is your training.”

Ronan only laughed and raised his arms higher. “Would ye harm an unarmed man?”

“What the hell is the matter with
ye? Pick up your sword.”

The men made a circle around the brothers. Some eager to see the siblings fight, others looking like they’d rather slink away.

Ronan shook his head. “I’ll not be your target, Magnus. We all know the one ye really want to wrestle is your lovely wife.” The man had the nerve to wiggle his brows.

Magnus growled low in his throat. “Ye shall
not speak of my wife in such vulgar terms.”

“Why not?
I can tell by the way ye’ve been blustering and stomping the last several days ye are frustrated. Is she prudish?” He gave Magnus a pitying look.

That was the last straw.

Magnus charged Ronan, tackling him to the ground. Ronan managed to shove him off and bound away. He hopped from foot to foot, his fists up and ready.

“Come on then. If she’ll not put out for
ye, I will.”

“Bastard!”
Magnus shouted, charging his brother again.

Ronan only laughed and side-stepped him.
Magnus turned quickly and kicked his foot out, tripping Ronan who fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Good, brother. I’d thought ye’d lost all sense and were fighting with your cock instead of your head.”

Magnus pretended to brush off his plaid, but at the last second, he thrust out and punched Ronan square in the jaw. Ronan fell backward and collapsed to the ground, rubbing his jaw.

“Ouch…”

“That’ll teach ye to say such boorish things about my wife.”

Ronan, despite his slightly swelling jawline, still smiled merrily. “I was only trying to provoke
ye. Giving ye what ye wanted—a good fight. ’Haps ye ought to take your rage upstairs and lay
her
flat,
my laird
.”

Ronan’s mocking did not go unnoticed.
With his words, Magnus realized how much he had let his wife get to him. The woman
did
frustrate him in more ways than one. He could think of nothing but spreading her thighs, hearing her sigh his name, feeling her lips on his flesh.

But beyond that, he wanted to see her smile. She hadn’t smiled since before she’d come to him about her father. She hadn’t laughed either. And it wasn’t until now that he didn’t have those things, that he realized he missed them.
He missed the fiery woman he’d married.

Mayhap now that she knew her father was safe, that woman would return.

“
Mo creach
,” he cursed. How the hell had she wiggled her way inside his heart?

He stalked away, the sound of his men’
s laughter in his ears.

By the time he’d reached the keep
, he was determined to find his wife and toss her skirts wherever she stood. He would then demand she smile and laugh and make love to him at least once a day.

He entered the great hall and scowled to see only clanswomen cleaning.

“Where is my wife?”

A few of the women startled at his harsh tone. But he couldn’t help it. His fist hurt like the devil from punching Ronan and it was all Arbella’s fault.

“She’s in the back garden, my laird,” Lydia answered, her eyes disapproving.

Magnus sucked the retort he was about spew back into his throat and instead left to go to the garden.

He found her crouched over some fall herbs plucking fragrant leaves and putting them into a basket. When she noticed his shadow hovering over her, she turned to look at him a smile curving her lips. He was almost mollified.
Almost
.

“I must speak to
ye in our chamber. ’Tis important.” And it was. He would kiss her breathless, rip her gown from her body and worship each and every curve until she screamed her pleasure.

“Right now?”

“Aye.”

She frowned and stood.
“Well, all right then.”

He offered his arm to her, and she took it. That contact was warm, so light, but it s
till thrilled him to the bones. He felt her fingers flex against his forearm. And he smiled with confidence. She was just as eager to slide against the sheets with him. He quickened his pace, then stopped, swung her against him and kissed her with all the pent up passion that he had. She melted against him, moaning into his mouth, her body trembling, breast pressed feverishly to his chest.

“I’m going to make love to ye, Arbella.
Right now.”

“Yes, please,” she whimpered, stroking her hands over his back.

He picked her up in his arms and practically ran into the keep.

But what greeted them in the great hall was
a night terror about to rain holy hell down on them… And he almost dropped her.

“Magnus,” Ina said her eyes squinted into a glare.
She wore her red hair flowing in a cloud around her shoulders, a plaid cloak over her ornate gown, and a gold belt at her hips. Riches beyond her father’s means. “Might I suggest ye put your hussy down and attend to your wife?”

Blane
had returned, and stood slightly to the side of Ina, still fully armed. His plaid looked like it needed a good washing, and his boots were caked in mud. He stared with obvious confusion between Magnus and Arbella. Heather and Ronan came into the great hall then, both held mirror expressions of dread.

“Put me down,” Arbella
said through gritted teeth.

Swallowing hard, Magnus did just that, but he kept her hand held in his. She yanked hard, but he wouldn’t let her go. He could only imagine the thoughts going through her mind. He muttered under his breath, “She is nay my wife.”

Arbella grunted and rolled her eyes. “Tell her that.”

“Ina, what are ye doing here?”

“Caught ye at a bad time?” his former betrothed said with a mock pout.

His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He swallowed hard again, not able to get the knot out of his throat. He’d never felt this way before.
’Twas awful, like he’d been caught doing something horribly wrong. Theoretically speaking, he would appear to be doing something wrong to each woman.

“Nay, but I dinna send for ye.”

“I dinna know I had to be sent for.”

“Ye should be at home with your family.
’Tis unseemly for an
unmarried
woman to visit a neighboring clan unescorted.”

“But I was escorted by Blane,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. Her glare turned toward Arbella, and Magnus had the instinctual urge to press his wife behind him and away from Ina.

Blane stepped into the middle of the room and looked at Magnus pointedly. “What is going on, brother? Ye asked me to bring Ina with me so ye could wed.”

Satan’s ballocks!
He’d forgotten that acute request…

Magnus pulled
Arbella to his side and mustered up the strength he normally expelled with each breath. For some reason this situation had really been a punch to the gut. He’d thought to deal with Ina away from here and for Arbella to never learn of his previous engagement. But now the surly woman had come to his house—at his request!—and called herself his wife to his wife.
Good Lord above, have mercy on me
…

“Lady Ina,” he started with using formality, “Meet my wife, Lady Arbella.”

A demon had nothing on Ina Ross when she didn’t get what she wanted and this was no exception. Her face turned an unflattering shade of reddish purple and as she bellowed, spittle flew from her mouth. “What?”

She charged toward them, only for Blane, Ronan and Heather to step in
her way in a show of solidarity and protection for Arbella. He was proud of his siblings at that moment, but he couldn’t praise them, he had to deal with the fired up woman gnashing her teeth and saying some pretty vile things to Arbella.

He chanced a glance at his wife and
, with surprise, saw that she did not seem fazed by the outbursts.

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ina.
I’m sure I shall remember the enjoyment of our introduction for many years to come.”

W
hile her words brought proud smiles to the Sutherland siblings’ faces, it only made Ina hurl more crude insults.

“Ye wretched whore, stealing a woman’s husband.
He may spew that we were not married, but he was promised to me—wedded and bedded as they say.”

“That is enough,” Magnus bellowed, having lost his patience now that the woman claimed to be his wife in truth already.

“Is that true?” Arbella asked Magnus accusingly, her blue eyes sparking with anger.

“Aye, is that the way of it?” Blane asked.

Ronan stepped forward, his own glare full on his face. He’d been the first one to warn Magnus this would not go over well.

“’Tis false.”
Magnus met each of their eyes, knowing they would trust his answer. He would never have slept with Ina prior to marrying her. He didn’t even
want
to marry her in the first place.

“He’s lying to
ye,” Ina spat, her gaze directed on Arbella. “He used me ill, just as he’s used ye. Ye are not even his true wife—I am.”

That appeared to be the final straw for Arbella. She nodded and lifting her skirts slightly, swept around them and headed for the stairs to their chamber. He would allow her a few minutes to cool off while he settled things here. Magnus turned his attention back to Ina and took a threatening step toward her. She straightened and squared her shoulders, jutting her chin forward.

“Ye married a weak one there, Magnus. She’s already given up on ye.”

H
e knew better. Arbella would not give up that easily. At least he hoped. Ina’s words actually wrung a bit of fear from him.

“Even ye acknowledge she’s my wife.”

“Not for long,” Ina snarled. “My father will not be happy about this.”

“I had hoped to send him a missive prior to this point.”

Ina laughed bitterly. “And what? Start a war?”

He knew the Ross would be angry but he was equally positive it would not start a war.
“Nay. I would offer ye one of my brothers.”

Ina looked from Blane to Ronan and laughed all the more. Both brothers looked like they were going to lose the contents of their stomachs.

“Ye insult me. Ye will pay for this, Magnus. Pay
dearly
.”

At that moment Gavin happened into the great hall, he just as quickly tried to retreat, but Magnus called him back.

“Would ye see that Lady Ina gets back to the Ross holding?”

“Ye will not even let me recover
from my journey?” she asked indignantly.

“I think
’tis for the best, my lady.”

“Ye’re a swine, Sutherland. Mark my
words—my father will
not
be pleased.”