To Marry A Scottish Laird (20 page)

“I’ll watch over her. Ye two go on back to what ye were doing,” Cam said at once, moving up to the bed to peer down at his wife.

“Are you sure?” Lady Annabel asked. “I do not mind sitting with her.

“Nay. Go on. I’m fine,” he assured her.

Annabel hesitated, but then nodded and began to gather her items.

Once they’d left the room, Cam peered down at Joan, then removed his weapons and plaid, lifted the furs covering his wife and slid into bed next to her. If he was going to wait and watch over her again, it was going to be from the comfort of the bed . . . and with her in his arms, he decided, and caught Joan’s arm to pull her over to rest against his chest. This time, he would be the first thing his wife saw when she woke up.

Chapter 16

J
OAN OPENED HER E
YES AND FOUND HERSEL
F
peering at her husband’s sleeping face. A smile immediately pulled at her lips. This was a sight she’d woken up to more than once during their journey to MacKay and she’d enjoyed it each time. Cam looked young and untroubled in sleep, not at all the ferocious warrior, or the laughing friend, or the seductive lover, all of which he could be by turn when awake. Campbell Sinclair had many facets, and Joan liked every one of them. There was not a side to her husband that she did not love.

And he had told her he loved her, she recalled and briefly closed her eyes at the memory. Cam loved her. The thought was a thrilling one, and made her want to squeal with glee, but she didn’t want to wake him up that way.

“Cam loves me,” she whispered with wonder. “And I love him.”

Her aunt had said as much the day they’d married, but Joan had merely shrugged off the suggestion. She supposed she hadn’t been ready to accept it, or maybe she’d been afraid to accept it because if she loved him and he didn’t love her . . . the pain that could have involved would be devastating, she knew.

Sighing, Joan opened her eyes and peered at him again, her smile slowly fading. Now she need only fear that his love would wither away once the first heat of passion died and he began to care more that she couldn’t do all those things true ladies were trained to do.

The thought was a depressing one, and she wanted to quickly push it away, but didn’t allow herself to. Instead, she started thinking of ways to avoid that. Joan didn’t want to have her marriage annulled. She did love him and she wanted to be his wife, she just had to learn to be the wife he needed and was expected to have. And surely if she practiced hard and often, if she gave it her every effort, then surely she could learn to shoot a bow and ride as well as dance and sing? She just needed time to manage that, Joan told herself. And to her mind, the best way to ensure she had that time was to ensure she kept his desire for her burning hot until she’d gained those skills.

It was a plan, at least, Joan thought grimly. An alternative to the proposed annulling of the marriage, and that was better than nothing, she decided and contemplated how best to start that.

The answer seemed obvious. They were already in bed and while Cam had his shirt on, she didn’t see any evidence of his plaid. Joan began to push down the linens and furs covering them both, pausing when she got them to her waist and could get a look at the damage she’d taken that morning.

Damn, she thought with amazement. Her side was black and blue and red all over. The bruising hadn’t fully formed yet, obviously, but she could already tell it was going to be as bad as her face had been after Toothless had finished with her. It should be less painful though. At least she hoped it would be. After the beating she’d taken, every time she’d spoken or made an expression, or unconsciously reached up to touch her face, it had ached like crazy. She shouldn’t have the same problem with her side. Well, so long as she wore loose clothes and didn’t bump up against things or touch it.

Sighing, Joan finished pushing the linens and furs down and then eased to her knees with a grimace. Moving wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t completely painless either. She could live with it though, Joan thought, and then glanced around, her eyes settling on a pot of ointment on the bedside table.

Leaning over, she picked it up and lifted it to her nose to smell it, smiling when she recognized the scent. It was a numbing salve. Her aunt must have mixed it up when Cam had brought her back. She’d probably applied it then too, Joan supposed, and wondered how long ago that had been. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t hurt to apply more.

Joan dipped her fingers in and quickly began to rub it over her side, wincing at the first touch. Oh aye, touching it would be a good thing to avoid, she thought grimly, relieved when the task was done.

Setting the small pot back on the table, Joan turned back to Cam. While his shirt was still on, his plaid was missing as she’d hoped. Even as she noted that, he murmured sleepily and rolled onto his back.

A small smile immediately claimed her lips. This position was just perfect for what she intended.

C
AM WAS HAVING
A WONDERFUL DREAM.
He and Joan were by the waterfall they’d camped by on the way north. He was lying on his back on his plaid, and Joan was bending over him, her long hair brushing across his stomach as she pushed his shirt up his chest.

“I love your body,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin as she smoothed her hands over his ribs and then his upper chest, pushing the cloth until it was gathered up under his chin and arms.

“Mmm,” she murmured, smiling, then bent to lick teasingly at his nipple. Cam smiled at her teasing and tried to slide his hands into her hair to draw her up for a kiss, but she evaded his touch and slipped further down his body, her hair dragging down his stomach again, and then gliding over his hip bone before she stopped and peered at his stirring erection.

“What have we here?” she breathed, glancing up to him with wide naughty eyes before dipping down to lash him with her tongue again, this time running it quickly over the head of his hardening cock.

Groaning, Cam reached down again, this time managing to glide his fingers into her hair, but then he stopped, merely cupping her head and gasping as she closed her hand around his shaft and squeezed gently.

Her gaze lifted to him again and she smiled solemnly, and then murmured, “I love you, Cam.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, waking himself up with his own voice and opening his eyes in time to see Joan take him into her mouth. His eyes widened incredulously as dream became reality, and then squeezed closed on a moan as she drew her mouth down his shaft. She’d asked him to teach her how to pleasure him with her mouth after he’d done it to her once on their journey and he’d tried to instruct her, but she’d always been tentative and unsure in those early efforts. This time she was a woman determined, and Cam squeezed his eyes so tightly closed he almost saw stars as she began to move her mouth up and down on him, her hair tickling his hips and thighs, her hand following her mouth’s movement, her breasts brushing his legs just above the knees.

Cam took it as long as he could stand it, but was afraid he was going to lose himself right there in her mouth, and without even having kissed her or otherwise seen to her pleasure. His conscience simply couldn’t accept that, and he rose up slightly so that he could catch her by the upper arms, and began to drag her up his body.

Joan came willingly, letting him slip from her mouth and moving up his body to straddle his hips, trapping his erection between their bodies. She raised herself, and clasped him in hand to direct him into her, but Cam caught her hand to stop her. Once she was upright, he’d seen the bruise on her side.

“What are ye doing?” he asked with a frown.

Joan paused and peered at him uncertainly. “I wanted to . . .”

Cam arched his eyebrows when she hesitated and blushed. “Lass, ye can no’ possibly want to with yer side the way it is. And yer leg,” he added, as he glanced down and noted that her actions must have started it bleeding again. Bright red blood was showing through the linen bandage wrapped around her leg.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, shifting her hips to rub herself against him.

Cam stiffened as pleasure shot through him, but then he took note of her expression. There was more determination there than pleasure, he decided grimly, and urged her off of him.

Kneeling beside him, she tried to slip her leg back over his hips, protesting, “But, I want to please you.”

Cam stilled and met her gaze. “Love, ye already please me. But ye’re no’ in any shape fer this. Yer side must be sore, and ye’ve started yer leg bleeding again. Ye need to rest and recover.”

“Nay, I’m fine,” she assured him, and reached out to wrap her hand around his still erect penis. “Let me please you, husband.”

Cam groaned, but forced her hand away. “Nay, woman. Ye need rest.”

“I need you,” she insisted, leaning up to kiss him as her hand once again found and clasped him, and slid his length.

Cam was not responding to her kiss, but he was weakening. He could feel it. He wanted to force her to stop and rest, but damned if his cock wasn’t opting for another outcome. Growling, he opened his mouth to her, then whipped his head toward the door when a knock sounded.

“Ignore it,” Joan said quietly, trying to turn his face back to hers with her free hand. “Let me finish what I started. I—eeeeee,” she ended on a squeal and released him to dive under the linens and furs as the door suddenly opened.

“What the devil!” Cam barked as his mother and father and Joan’s aunt and uncle trooped into the room one after the other, all of them grim faced.
What the devil was happening now?
he wondered with irritation. And could they not have waited until later to tell him about it?

Joan poked her head up from under the furs when Cam dropped down beside her. She peered over the edge of the material at the people who had entered, then sat up a bit with surprise. “Uncle Ross? What are you doing here?”

Ross grinned at Annabel and said, “She called me ‘Uncle.’ ”

“Aye, she calls me ‘Aunt’ most times now too,” Annabel told him with a small smile.

“Would someone care to explain why ye’ve all decided to barge in here while me wife and me are abed?” Cam snapped.

“We have important news,” his mother said apologetically.

Laird Sinclair nodded, but then scowled and said, “ ’Sides, ’tis the middle of the day, lad. What the devil are ye doing abed anyway?”

“Annabel was injured,” Cam reminded him stiffly.

“Aye, she was. That does no’ explain why ye’re lying about with her.” His eyes narrowed. “Ye were no’ trying to indulge in some houghmagandie with her when the poor lass is all bruised and beat up, were ye? She’s in no shape fer that nonsense.”

Cam scowled at his father. “Aye, I ken that! I even told her as much when she tried to have her way with me.”

Groaning, Joan pulled the furs back over her head. Well, this was embarrassing.

Cursing as he realized what he’d said, Cam growled, “Just tell us what ye came here for and go so she can rest.”

“Laird MacKay arrived this hour past with news,” Lady Sinclair murmured quietly.

“Aye?” Cam asked.

“Aye,” Ross said. “I sent one o’ me men out to search for the cloth merchant after ye all headed to Sinclair. I thought to buy material to bring with me when I collected me wife and daughters.”

“Material?” Cam asked with confusion.

“Fer gowns for Joan,” he muttered, sounding uncomfortable.

“Oh, Uncle, that’s so sweet,” Joan said, coming up from under the furs to beam at him. Much to her amazement, the man actually blushed and looked even more uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, he shrugged, and said, “I was no’ sure what ye’d like, so I picked what I thought would look best with yer coloring. The men loaded it all on a wagon and we brought it with us. They’re unloading it now.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears glazing her eyes at the kindness. Joan wished she was dressed so she could get up and hug the man.

“Surely that is no’ the news that was so important ye burst in here to tell us?” Cam asked with a frown.

“Nay,” Ross said, straightening. “On his return journey with the merchant, me man came across a fellow dead on the side o’ the road. He recognized him as a Sinclair, so—”

“No’ Douglas?” Cam interrupted sharply.

“Nay,” his father assured him at once. “ ’Twas Allistair. Douglas is fine as far as we ken.”

“Oh.” Cam sighed.

“Me man brought this Allistair back with him, along with his belongings. There was no violence to the body and he seemed to have died a natural death, so I told them to put him in a wagon and I’d return him to Sinclair when I traveled here on the morrow, and then I dealt with the merchant. But once that was done, I saw the men had left the warrior’s bag behind. I bent to pick it up and when I opened it and found it was full o’ scrolls. Since I was no’ sure who they were to or if they were urgent messages, I decided we’d best set out right away rather than wait until morn.”

Cam sighed. “Let me guess, the messages were to the families of the women Mother invited here, and we’ll be stuck with the wenches fer even longer than we’d feared.”

“But some of the girls have already left,” Joan said with a frown.

“I sent out three messengers,” Lady Sinclair explained. “Some of the lasses live closer than others, so I divided them amongst the men thinking to speed the process along. The messenger who was to deliver the scrolls to the closest families has already returned. They are the families of the girls who have already left us.”

“Oh,” Joan murmured.

“So ye came to tell us that we’ll have some o’ the women here longer than we’d hoped?” Cam asked slowly.

“Nay, we came to tell ye that the messenger was poisoned,” his father said dryly.

“Poisoned?” Cam sat up straight.

“Aye, it didn’t take but one look for Lady MacKay to determine the lad had been poisoned,” Lady Sinclair said quietly.

“His fingers were blue at the tips,” Annabel murmured when Cam and Joan glanced to her.

“Aye, poison,” Joan said, mouth tightening.

“What kind?” Cam asked.

Joan shrugged. “Ye can get a poison that’ll do that from crushed apple seeds, cherry pits, peach pits . . .”

“Laurel leaves or rotting cabbage too,” Annabel added.

“But it’s very fast acting,” Joan said with a frown.

“How fast acting?” Cam asked. “Could he have been given the poison here before he left?”

“Nay,” Joan and Annabel said together, and then Joan added, “He would be dead within minutes of eating whatever the poison was in.”

“It must have been put in his food,” Lady Sinclair murmured, and noting their expressions, explained, “I had Cook pack a bag of food and drink for each o’ the lads ere they left so they could eat in the saddle and no’ have to stop to hunt up their meals.” Grimacing, she admitted, “I was a bit eager to have the girls gone.”