The Highlander's Reward (9 page)

She nodded solemnly.
“’Twas sad. We buried the bird and father forbade me from foraging again with Glenda. He did find an older woman in our village who trained me on what was poisonous and what was not.”

“’Tis a good knowledge to have.
My father taught me the basics of finding berries, apple trees and nuts, but never to dig in the ground.”

“You also know how to hunt and to eat what you kill.”

“There is that. I shall see to it that Cook prepares extra dishes without meat.”

Arbella smiled, her even, white teeth sparkling. “I should like that. I have several recipes I’d be happy to share with her as well.”

“Cook is a bit possessive of her kitchen, but I shall insist she attend ye.”

His lovely wife shook her head. “There is no need. I will let her warm up to me first.”

How had he gotten so lucky to meet a woman as generous and kind and sensual as Arbella?

Chapter Nine

Anxiety filled Arbella.
She sat before Magnus atop his mount, held securely by his strong arms. Her hands shook, her legs trembled and her lower lip was raw from biting it. Her stomach was twisted into knots and she couldn’t seem to concentrate on a single thought other than: What would Clan Sutherland think of her?

It was true that after Keith’s attack and her subsequent marriage to Magnus that the warriors tolerated her, but they were disciplined, they followed their leaders rule. Would the clan members be the same?

When they passed farmers in the fields they’d called out to their laird, studied her with hands raised to their brows. She hadn’t waved to them, not sure if she should greet them or not. She was at a complete loss as to what to do in this foreign land.

The warriors rode over the marsh and finally through the massive gates of Dunrobin. The towers were even bigger
up close, made of perfectly cut stone.

She was overwhelmed.

As they entered the courtyard, people appeared from within the keep and outbuildings. Those who’d been working stopped and turned. They stared openly, curiously at her. She didn’t sense their hostility, but neither could she sense their welcome.

Magnus reined in his horse and the great
Beast snorted and flared his nostrils. The warriors formed a half-circle behind their laird and Arbella actually felt protected. Keith was held by Ronald to the side, which drew many clan men and women’s eyes.

When Gavin approached through the crowd, she let out a held breath, relieved to see a familiar face among the dozens of strangers who studied her. Children clung behind their mother’s skirts, poking heads out, and a few bolder children stood in a group close to the horses.

“Welcome home, my laird,” Gavin said loudly, turning in a circle his arms spread wide, entreating the people to do the same.

“Welcome home!” the people shouted.

“And a great welcome to our clan to the Lady Sutherland.”

At this the people took a few moments of silence, and Arbella’s chest hurt from holding her breath. Would they welcome her or shun her?

Magnus’ hold tightened around her belly and then his hand grasped hers, his thumb stroking tenderly over her knuckles. He was soothing her, she realized, and it was working.

Various calls of welcome sounded in the crowd, some cheerful, some disgruntled
.

Magnus raised his hand to the crowd for silence. “This man here, Keith, our fellow clansman, attacked my wife.
Held a knife at her throat.”

There was only silence from the crowd and Arbella had the distinct impression that some of the people wished he’d succeeded in his intent to kill her.
She tried hard to hold her posture upright even though she wanted to sink against Magnus.

“No one harms what is mine,” Magnus said loud enough for everyone to hear, but he did not shout. He didn’t need to shout out his ire. His tone was chilling, and she shivered. She did not wish his anger to ever be pointed at her. “Prior to the noon meal, Keith will stand before me. He will stand before al
l of ye and confess his crime. I will allow two to bear witness to his character and plead for mercy. Then I will decide his punishment.”

Arbella
’s nerves were so twisted up she felt like she might vomit. The people would surely hate her now.

Magnus
turned to one of the clansmen who approached. “Where are Ronan and Heather?”

“They went to visit with your cousin Moray for a feast he’d prepared.
Promised Heather to teach her a new dance.”

Magnus grunted and
dismounted.

He may have seem
ed displeased they were not there, but Arbella was relieved. She didn’t want to have to meet them until she at least had a chance to wash her face.

Magnus reached
up to lift her down, but she didn’t want to seem like a weakling in front of his people, so she brushed his hands aside and dismounted herself, although she judged the distance a bit off, and stumbled slightly. Magnus steadied her with a hand on the small of her back.

“I would have helped ye, wife,” he murmured.

“I know, but I can get off a horse myself.”

“There are a lot of things that a body can do themselves, but they still accept the offer of one kind enough to extend it.
’Tis the way of things here. I know not how ye lived in England, but I would get used to people offering ye assistance here.”

Arbella
nodded, not knowing what else to say. She was embarrassed at having brushed aside his offer and then stumbling too. ’Twas true she’d never ridden a horse as large as Magnus’ Beast, but after riding the animal for the past couple of days she should have judged the distance to the ground better. And she should have let him lift her down. But that would have shown weakness, and even more troubling, he would have touched her. She couldn’t help his touch when they rode, but she would do all she could to avoid it when they were on solid ground. He was too tempting. His kisses too delicious.

Just remembering the way he’d swooped in and kissed her, taken possession of her mouth with his heated kiss had her body burning for more. Her knees shook and her insides quivered.
She just wanted to hide, feeling as though a million people stared daggers into her back. But she couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand and he’d think her feeble.

“I am tired,” she blurted out.

Magnus gave her an odd look. “Then we shall see ye to our chamber.”

Saint’s bones
! Things were not working out in her favor. She’d wanted to be alone, to go to her room and sleep for a week. To pretend that there was no such person as Magnus. To pretend that she didn’t
like
him. But he said
our.
They would share a room. And she would be reminded with every inhale of his scent that she liked him all too much.

“I would prefer my own chamber,” she said quietly as he placed her arm through his and led her toward the
dozen or so stairs to the keep’s main entrance.

“I know ye would, lass. But
’tis a custom within my clan that the laird and lady share a chamber. If we went against custom…” He trailed off, and she didn’t want him to finish his sentence.

It was hard enough for him to have had to marry her to keep her
safe, she wouldn’t jeopardize his reputation as a man and a leader as well. She supposed she owed him that much for saving her life twice already.

“There is no need to explain, Magnus. I understand.” She would just sleep on the floor.

They walked into the keep, and she was surprised that it smelled fresh and clean. For a bachelor, the laird kept things in good order—and she might add for a Scotsman. Glenda had told her they were all animals with piles as high as the ceiling of rubbish and breathing the air of their domain was sure to make anyone faint.

Arbella was starting to think there were a great many things Glenda had been wrong about.

Rather than going into the great hall, Magnus led her up a steep wooden stairwell to the next level. There were four rooms on this floor, and the stairs continued upward. Arbella was curious about the keep, but exploring would have to wait. She just wanted some time to let everything that had happened over the last few days sink in.

Magnus
opened one of the doors which led to a great chamber—with an even greater bed.

Her gaze was riveted on the massive four-poster. Celtic knots were carved in intricate designs into the sturdy wood. The posts and headboard were polished to a dark sheen. The coverlet and matching curtains were d
yed a deep, lush green, reminding her of the outdoors and the green within Magnus’ plaid. But beyond the beauty of the bed’s creation, she was amazed by the size. She’d never seen a bed so large. The width and length of it would swallow her whole. She turned and gazed at Magnus, deciding the bed was a perfect size for him. If he’d tried to sleep on her bed in England, his legs would be hanging off the end at the knees—and, she stifled a giggle, Glenda would have surely tossed herself from the nearest window in terror.

Magnus swept an arm out wide as he us
hered her inside. “This is our chamber.”

Arbella took in the rest of the space. Everything was massive.
As if the room had been made for a giant—except for the windows. They were slim arrow-slits, but with five of them cut into the wall there was potential for plenty of sunlight.

A long wooden table sat beneath the windows, its legs thick and carved to match the same designs as the bed. There were only two chairs—again overly large with tall backs and long armrests. Thick, plush cushions rested on the seats of both chairs. She imagined curling up in one of them, sipping a warm cup of cider.

There was no hearth, only an iron brazier, filled with wood that she hoped would be lit later. Even still, with only the small brazier, how would they keep warm when the dead of winter hit?

“Is it to your liking?”

Arbella nodded, her eyes falling on two large wooden wardrobes. One had a carving of a warrior and the other a lady. The woodwork was beautiful beyond words, but what the female piece represented sent a wave of apprehension through her.

She had no belongings.
Nothing to fill its depths.

All of her things had been left behind in Stirling.
Probably ransacked and sold.

“I have no clothes.”

“Ye’ve no need of English clothes, lass. I will have the women tend to ye, see that ye have plenty. As my wife, ye’ll wear my colors.”

Her eyes locked with his. “But I am English.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes. “I know that.”

He appeared annoyed at her heritage and that only
vexed her more. “I did not ask to come here. I did not ask for you to take me away from Stirling. I did not ask to wear your colors. I am
not
your wife, and I
never
will be.” She turned from him to face the wall of windows, her arms over her chest.

“Make no mistake, Arbella,”
Magnus said behind her. “A wife ye are, and a wife ye will be.” His voice was low, threatening and yet lined with some deeper need.

She gasped, whipped around to tell him exactly what she thought of his ridiculous words, but found herself only inches from him. He
grasped both of her cheeks and crushed his lips to hers. His kiss was possessive, hard, carnal. She was instantly hot all over. There was no fighting his demands for pleasure. As much as her mind fought against the desire careening through her, her body relished it, invited it. Her flesh tingled, reacting instinctively to his claiming her.

Magnus
slid his hands from her face, one stroking over her breast and the other roughly gripping her behind and pulling her close so she could feel the evidence of his need for her.

She moaned in the back of her throat and cursed herself for being a wanton.

His thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple and the traitorous nub of flesh puckered for more. Even her hips rolled against his, welcoming the feel of his hard length.

“Ye want me,” he growled, nipping at her lower lip. “Dinna deny it. Dinna deny me.”

Arbella could barely breathe, let alone speak. An unintelligible moan issued from her lips. There was no denying, only feeling. She stroked her hands along his muscular back and up to his sinewy shoulders before threading her fingers through his silken hair. It was softer than she imagined.

Magnus ripped his mouth from hers only to latch onto the column of her neck, licking and kissing his way to the hollow of her throat. She tilted her head back, her entire body thrilling, trembling.

She gasped with outright pleasure and surprise as he yanked her gown and chemise low enough to expose her pink nipple. The nub jutted upward, a mere inch from his lips. She couldn’t have imagined what he was going to do next, but she wanted him to continue doing it for hours. He kissed her nipple. Licked it. He breathed his hot breath over it, flicked his tongue back and forth. She whimpered, both hands in his hair tugging him away and then pulling him closer. Her back was arched, her lips partially opened. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue gently back and forth.