The Laird's Captive Wife (20 page)

‘Do you like it?’ she asked.

‘I think it’s perfect, lass. Just perfect.’ He took her hand and carried it to his lips. ‘Thank you.’

He had never used quite that tone before. It was gentle and tender and it took her unawares, like the warm touch of his fingers on hers and the imprint of his kiss on her skin. She made no attempt to withdraw her hand from his and he seemed in no hurry to relinquish it. Only when a servant appeared with a query for Ashlynn about the serving of the evening meal did he reluctantly let her go.

* * *

The atmosphere in the hall was different that evening, for once the men had recovered from their initial astonishment their mood lifted to match the cheerfulness of the surroundings. There was more laughter and good-humoured banter. Ashlynn too relaxed in the lighter atmosphere, and she was gladdened to see Ban smile. However, as time wore on the exertions of the day began to take their toll and eventually she excused herself from the gathering. This time Iain rose with her and escorted her as far as the door. For a moment the dark gaze surveyed her in concern.

‘You look tired, lass.’

‘I am,’ she admitted.

‘’Tis not to be wondered at.’ He paused. ‘Thank you for your efforts today. It has been a long time since Dark Mount looked like a home.’

There could be no mistaking the sincerity of the words or the expression in his eyes as he raised her hand to his lips. Not knowing quite what to say she remained silent, every fibre of her being alive to him. Would he take her in arms now? If he did, what then? Recalling the power of his kiss and how it had set her aflame it took but a second to know the answer to that. He surveyed her just a moment longer and relinquished her hand.

‘Goodnight. Sleep well, lass.’

In silent confusion she acknowledged that what she felt was not relief but something akin to disappointment. She bade him goodnight and turned away. He watched her until she was out of sight.

* * *

Two days later the weather changed and it snowed again overnight. By morning all the landscape was transformed. Ashlynn surveyed it for a while from the roof terrace before making her way down to the hall. Finding no sign of Iain or her brother she went outside.

The courtyard had been cleared and the snow banked high against the walls. It was bitterly cold but the wind had dropped and the ice crystals courted the sunlight like flung diamonds. Ashlynn smiled and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment. She would take a turn or two before starting work. In spite of what had gone before there was plenty to be done. Her mind moved ahead, thinking of food for the feast. She would consult the cook about that in due course…

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a large ball of snow which caught her squarely in the chest. Looking up indignantly she saw her brother some yards off regarding her with a speculative smile. In that moment he was so much the old Ban again that her heart swelled. The feeling was short-lived as another snowball caught her shoulder. Ashlynn’s eyes narrowed.

‘Just you wait!’ With a speed born of expertise she fashioned a missile and lobbed it back. Ban ducked and it skimmed his cloak but, when he turned round again, the next one hit him in the face. Spluttering, he heard her laugh.

‘My aim is still good, brother.’

‘Too good, you minx.’

Several more men had emerged from the hall and other bystanders watched with interest, among them Iain who had just emerged from the smithy hard by. Ban fired off several more shots with varying success for he was still using his left hand to avoid straining the recovering shoulder. However, he kept up the pressure. Ashlynn found herself trying to dodge Ban’s missiles while throwing her own, and her usually accurate aim became less so. A large snowball, intended for Ban’s chest, flew past and hit Iain instead. She heard several sharp intakes of breath from the onlookers and then muffled snorts of laughter. Ban guffawed. For a moment Ashlynn was still, but remorse was short-lived and mischief reasserted itself in a wide grin.

Seeing it, Iain lifted an eyebrow and strolled casually towards her. Undeceived by this apparent nonchalance, Ashlynn turned to flee. He caught her in six strides and lifted her off her feet with no more difficulty than he would have lifted a wisp of straw. Her shriek of protest went unheeded. Then he glanced down at his struggling burden with a glint in his eye that boded no good at all.

‘Throw snowballs at me, would you, lass?’

‘You don’t understand…’

‘Oh, I think I do.’

He carried her to the edge of the courtyard where the cleared snow was banked in great heaps. As she saw him grin an unwelcome suspicion dawned.

‘Iain, no!’

‘No?’

Ashlynn struggled harder. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘You know better than that, lass.’

‘You wouldn’t…’

The sentence ended on a shriek of outrage as he dropped her into the huge white drift. Roars of laughter erupted from the spectators. Then, almost as though at a signal, other missiles began to fly amid yells and curses and laughter and soon the air was thick with them. For a moment Iain surveyed the scene, grinning. Then he glanced down at Ashlynn who, almost completely engulfed, was trying unsuccessfully to extricate herself.

‘Help me out, you villain!’

‘Villain is it now?’ He shook his head. ‘Not content with an unprovoked attack you insult me into the bargain.’

Torn between laughter and frustration she moderated her tone. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. Won’t you please help me up?’

His grin widened and he surveyed her a moment longer. Then, reaching down a hand, he caught hers and hauled her out of the white mound. Covered from head to foot she was grinning herself now. He shook out her cloak and then began to brush some of the snow from her hair. As he did so a stray missile caught him round the ear. Unable to help herself Ashlynn laughed out loud. His expression was eloquent but far from stopping her amusement served only to fuel it.

‘It seems to me, wife, that you do not demonstrate the proper respect due to your lord and master. I am minded to show you the error of your ways.’ He crooked a finger. ‘Come here.’

Ashlynn backed away. ‘I shall not.’

‘Is that right?’ He advanced slowly. ‘And I thought I’d cured you of disobedience.’

The tone was decidedly ambiguous. Withal there was an expression in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before but it was definitely not to be trusted.

‘Iain?’

She backed up a few more steps but still he came on. Then, without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Ashlynn gasped and tried to resist but in a matter of seconds was thrown over a broad shoulder. Ignoring the accompanying yells of protest he carried her across the courtyard and back to the tower. When eventually he set her down again they were in the great hall.

For a moment they faced each other, she half-laughing and half-panting as she tried to draw her breath, he drinking in every detail of her. Much dishevelled now, with snow still clinging to her cloak and melted drops in her hair, she seemed to glow for the cold had brought the colour to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled with mischief yet. There was withal a most provocative smile on her lips. He drew her closer, looking down into her face with an expression that was both alarming and exciting together. Then his mouth was on hers and excitement superseded alarm and banished it as Ashlynn swayed against him, surrendering to the moment, knowing this was what she had wanted him to do. Her mouth opened beneath his and the kiss grew deeper and more intimate. Involuntarily her arms stole around his neck, her hand stroking the warm curve at the nape of his neck beneath the dark mane of hair.

The touch sent a thrill to the core of his being reawakening the hunger he had felt before, a hunger he once thought he could not know again. His hold tightened about her, lifting her off her feet, crushing her closer. He felt her mouth respond to his and tasted again its sweetness on his tongue, breathing the fresh clean scent of snow on her hair and clothes and beneath it the subtle erotic scent of the woman. He wanted her, here, now, wanted to lose himself in her completely…

A discreet cough alerted them to other presences and they surfaced, looking round to see Fergus and Dougal. Ashlynn’s cheeks turned a much deeper shade of pink. With a wry smile Iain relinquished his hold on his wife and watched her turn away toward the hearth. As the men approached Ashlynn drew in a deep breath to try and compose herself, to still the dangerous thumping of her heart. A covert glance at Iain revealed nothing of his inner thought and certainly none of the powerful emotion that gripped her now. His voice when he spoke to his men was calm, unforced. It recalled her to reality. What had occurred had begun as a bit of harmless fun and somehow gone further than either of them had intended. She smiled ruefully. It was certainly no more than that to him. Yet she had seen a side of him today that she had never dreamed existed, a side that was mischievous and playful and, she admitted, doubly attractive. When he laughed it lit his whole face and brought a warm gleam to his eyes. She realised then it was the first time she had ever seen him laugh like that.

‘If it pleases you, my lady, the new gowns are ready for your inspection.’

Ashlynn looked round to see Morag. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your gowns, my lady?’

‘Of course, I’ll come directly.’

Throwing a swift glance at the men she left them to talk, and moved quietly to the stairs. She never saw the dark gaze that followed her every step of the way.

* * *

The finished gowns exceeded her expectations in every way. They had been beautifully made and she looked at them with delight. Morag was open-mouthed to see the array of garments: chemises, bliauts, shoes, even a cloak made of good wool cloth and lined with marten fur. It was far warmer than the old one and Ashlynn knew she would be glad of it as the winter tightened its grip. She spent the next hour trying each of the garments in turn under the critical eyes of the seamstress and her assistants. Ashlynn had no fault to find. Madame’s instinct for colour and style had been unerring. The gowns fitted her figure to perfection and she could see from the women’s expressions that they became her well. Would Iain approve? She hoped he would for in truth it had been a most generous gift—generous and unexpected. The timing couldn’t have been better either. Now she would have no cause to feel ashamed before the Yuletide guests.

In the meantime she gave orders for one of the big cedar-lined chests to be brought to her chambers. It would be ideal for the safe storage of the new gowns. Having organised that, she helped Morag lay the dresses within. The servant eyed her quizzically.

‘Will you not change your gown now, my lady?’

‘Not now. Tomorrow.’

‘Ah, for the feast.’

‘Just so.’

‘I think you’ll break hearts, my lady.’

Ashlynn smiled wistfully knowing there was one heart at least that would remain for ever out of reach.

Chapter Nine

T
he Yuletide feast saw the arrival of many guests. Ashlynn had dressed with care for the occasion, donning the forest green bliaut. It was simple and elegant, set off by the soft cream chemise beneath, the combination enhancing the tawny sheen of her hair. With Morag’s help this was now neatly braided down her back with matching green ribbons. A girdle embroidered with brown and gold flowers rode her waist.

Ban, calling in a little later, surveyed her critically. Ashlynn smiled and gave him a twirl. ‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s stunning,’ he replied. Then, glancing over his shoulder, ‘What say you, my lord?’

Iain, who had just appeared in the doorway, stopped in his tracks. For a long moment he surveyed his wife in silence, his gaze missing no detail. In fact he found it hard to tear his eyes away. Ban had not overstated the case; she really was stunning. The new gowns might have cost a small fortune but, looking at the result, it had been worth every penny.

‘I think the assessment quite correct,’ he replied.

There could be no mistaking the expression of warm approval in his eyes or the way they lingered on her figure. For the first time since she had left Heslingfield Ashlynn felt as though some lost part of her had just been restored and it lifted her spirits in an instant. She laughed and swept a low curtsy.

‘I thank you, my lords.’

Ban grinned. ‘Are you ready, Ash? The guests are approaching.’

‘Yes, I just need my cloak.’

She retrieved it from the chair nearby but Iain stepped forward and relieved her of it.

‘Allow me.’

He settled the garment on her shoulders and then fastened the brooch at the front. His hand brushed the neck of her gown, a casual and lightly caressing touch that set her flesh tingling in response. Then he held out his hand.

‘Shall we?’

They descended the stairs and reached the bottom in time to see the riders clatter into the courtyard. Now that they were closer Ashlynn scanned the faces with interest. Counting the servants there were a dozen all told, ranging in age from four to forty. It took her by surprise to see the children among them but it was a pleasant discovery. How long it must have been since Dark Mount had heard children’s voices.

Before she could pursue the thought she became aware that Iain’s attention was not on them but rather on the accompanying adults, and suddenly there was tension in every line of his body. Following his gaze she saw it was fixed on a pretty dark-haired woman. The woman returned his stare for a moment or two and then allowed her male companion to help her from the saddle. Ashlynn had an impression of a burly bearded individual clad in a great fur cloak. For a moment he and Iain faced each other in silence. All around them the others were silent too, as though waiting for something. The tension was almost palpable. Then the newcomer held out his right hand. Iain stepped forward and took it in a firm clasp.

‘It has been a long time, Duncan.’

At this the others relaxed visibly. Ashlynn’s curiosity mounted. She exchanged glances with Ban and saw him raise an eyebrow. Evidently he too was at a loss. Then she turned her attention back to the little scene before them.