When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (25 page)

She
loved
Iain.

She stared at his strong jaw,
chiseled face, and soulful eyes. She loved her husband. He’d captured her
heart, though she’d intended not to give it to him unless he offered his own to
her. He’d taken hers so quickly, she wondered if she’d ever had hope of keeping
her heart as her own. She blinked and raised her hand to swipe at the tears at
the same time he touched his fingers to her face.

“What’s this?” he asked.

She swallowed. “I cannot help but
think of Catriona and how exhausted she must have been to desire the end of her
life. It makes my heart ache for her and for you.”

“Ah, Marion,” he said, his voice
ragged and catching on her name. “The things ye say stun and please me.”

“I want to please you,” she whispered,
aching with just how much, but not because she still worried she was unworthy.
She wanted to please him simply because she loved him.

He brushed a finger quickly across
her lips, a devilish twinkle coming to his eyes. “Ye do.”

She heated from her belly to the
juncture between her thighs at his obvious reference to what they had done
together.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand.
“If I keep standing here staring at ye and thinking on what we could be doing,
I’ll throw ye over my shoulder and leave the hall, and that certainly will win
ye little favor with the women.”

Marion giggled as Iain led her to
Bridgette’s table and then solicitously waited for her to take her seat before
excusing himself and striding back up to the dais. She watched as he strode the
few steps, the muscles of his powerful legs flexing. He settled himself, and
though Lachlan immediately started talking to him, Iain’s heated stare stayed
on her. All she could think about was that she loved him. It pounded through
her, at once thrilling and frightening.

“The MacLeod did nae want ye to sit
by him, I see,” said someone directly across from Marion. She drew her gaze
away from Iain and met the derisive flashing eyes of Fiona.

“I wanted to sit with all of you to
get to know you,” Marion replied.

“There was nae a need for that,”
Fiona snapped. “Bridgette here has talked about ye since she sat down.” Fiona
scowled at Bridgette, who met the woman’s dark look with one of her own. Marion
wanted to hug her friend for trying to help her. She offered Bridgette a smile
and then took a piece of meat off the almost-empty trencher and one of the last
two hunks of bread left on the platter before her.

Marion understood that Fiona was
angry at her because the woman had wanted to be Iain’s wife, but she also
suspected the woman was afraid of what would become of her now that Marion was
here. She had to find a way to assure Fiona that she was still an important
part of this clan.

“Tell me, Fiona, who took on the
position of mistress of the castle when your sister passed away?” Marion asked
as she took a bite of the bread, or attempted to. God’s truth, it was like
biting into a stone. Marion frowned and set the bread back on her plate.
Someone needed to teach the women in the kitchen how to properly bake bread.

“I did,” Fiona answered, her tone
defensive. “I suppose ye want to do it now?”

Marion stabbed at the meat with her
knife. Her stomach growled, but the blood leaking from the obviously
undercooked meat deterred her from trying it. She glanced swiftly around and
saw that most of the women at the table had left a good portion of their food
untouched, and Bridgette appeared to have eaten nothing. Tomorrow, Marion would
talk to Iain about what could be done. But tonight, she had to face a larger
problem.

She held Fiona’s gaze as the women
at the table shifted their eyes between the two of them. “I think Dunvegan is
possibly so large that it needs a mistress of the castle and an assistant. What
do you think?”

“I think,” Fiona said, her words
wrapped in scorn, “I dunnae need an assistant to run this castle.”

The woman was making it hard to
like her, but then again, Marion had known it would be difficult, though she’d
hoped she was wrong. “
I
need an assistant,” she said pointedly.

“Ye think ye’re strong enough to be
mistress of the castle?” Fiona demanded, her brows rising in disbelief.

Marion opened her mouth to respond,
but her words were cut off by Bridgette’s. “Marion is stronger than she looks,”
Bridgette said and gave Marion a sympathetic smile.

“I certainly hope so,” the curly
redheaded woman sitting by Fiona crowed. “Ye look as if a strong highland wind
would blow ye away,” the woman said, her hand coming to rest on her rounded
belly.

“Alanna.” Rory Mac growled at his
wife and gave Marion an apologetic look. “She’s with child,” he offered as his way,
Marion supposed, of explaining his wife’s sour mood.

Alanna glared at Rory Mac. “What
does being with child matter?”

In answer, Rory Mac dragged his
bread through the sauce in the trencher and stuffed the entire piece in his
mouth.

Marion stifled her nervous laughter
at Rory Mac’s actions and the dissension of the table in general.

“It’s good to finally meet you,
Alanna,” Marion offered.

The woman drew her russet eyebrows
upward. “Is it now?”

Marion clenched her teeth at
Alanna’s mocking tone, as most of the women at the table snickered and laughed,
save Bridgette and Elspeth. Rory Mac, with a dark look, stood abruptly and left
the table to take a seat at one occupied by only men, including Angus, who
Marion noticed was turned around watching her. Marion didn’t blame Rory Mac for
leaving. She would rather sit elsewhere, as well, but this was a battle, and if
she fled, she’d be defeated. “Yes, it is good to meet you. Iain tells me you
are cousin to Fiona and Elspeth.” When Alanna’s mouth twisted cynically, Marion
realized her error. “And of course, Catriona, when she was alive.”

“Aye,” Alanna clipped, “
and
Catriona, who was the best of
all
of us.”

Marion was more angry than hurt at
the hostility of Catriona’s sister and cousin, but being hostile in return would
solve nothing.

Beside her, Bridgette took a deep
breath, drawing Marion’s attention to her. Bridgette looked as if she could
spit fire, and Marion felt her eyes go wide.
Oh dear!

“Marion is nae weak,” Bridgette bit
out, “and she is just as good as Catriona was, ye bunch of wee petty women!”

Marion touched her friend’s arm.
“Bridgette, I can defend myself.”

Bridgette didn’t even flick her
gaze to Marion. She simply narrowed her eyes, her cheeks turning an alarming
shade of red. Belatedly, Marion recalled the men teasing Bridgette about her
temper. This must be to what they had been referring. Bridgette slapped her
palms on the table, the noise so loud and unexpected that all conversation
quieted at their table and those surrounding them. Bridgette started to rise,
but Marion grasped her arm, desperately pulling her back into her seat.

“Bridgette, please,” Marion hissed.

Bridgette waved a hand at Marion.
“Allow me to handle these witches.”

“Witches!” Fiona screeched. Marion
cringed. “Are ye calling me a witch?” the woman demanded, staring at Marion.

“No!” Marion exclaimed.

“Aye!” Bridgette fairly shouted.
“Ye act like an old ill-tempered witch! And if ye’re nae careful, yer sour
disposition will get ye banished from the clan.”

“And just who’s going to banish me?
Nae Iain. Her?” Fiona speared Marion with a dark look. “She could nae banish an
ant from its bed.”

“She’s pulled me up from the cliff
of a mountain and saved my life, and she did nae blanch when she heard the
seer’s prophecy,” Bridgette exclaimed. “She’s strong and courageous.”

“Ye met a seer?” Elspeth asked, her
brown eyes wide with curiosity.

“It was nothing,” Marion rushed
out, praying Bridgette would say no more.

“Nothing?” Bridgette exclaimed.
“The seer told Marion that Iain would fly the Fairy Flag to save her.”

Marion hastily looked over her
shoulder, praying that Iain was not listening. His eyes were trained on their
table, though conversation around him clearly continued. Thank goodness, she
didn’t think he could hear what was being said.

“If the MacLeod did nae fly the
flag to save my sister, he’ll nae fly it to save the
Sassenach
.”

Marion gritted her teeth. This was
not going well at all. “I never thought—”

“I tell ye, he’s going to fly it,”
Bridgette interrupted.

Fiona shoved back the bench that
she, Alanna, and Elspeth were sitting on, and she stood. “Iain!” she called
across the hall, her voice ringing out like a shrill whistle above the hum.

Marion froze. Aside from tackling
the woman, Marion could think of no other way to stop her from speaking.

Iain’s gaze sharpened on Fiona.
“Aye?” he answered, not even having to raise his voice as the room had fallen
into silence.

“It seems yer new wife thinks ye’re
going to fly the Fairy Flag to save her.”

Whatever Iain felt about Fiona’s
statement didn’t show on his face. His face showed nothing but mild interest.
Lachlan’s jaw, however, was hanging open.

Marion felt as if the heat of her
embarrassment would set her body to instant flames. “No,” she said, hurrying to
explain. “I didn’t. I don’t. It wasn’t me.”

“Oh, forgive me,” Fiona said
dramatically. “A seer told yer wife that ye would fly the Fairy Flag to save
her. Tell her, MacLeod. Tell her how it will never be so. Tell her that the
flag may only be flown one more time and ye would nae fly it to save her! Tell
her ye’d only risk flying it to save the clan. Tell her! Tell her how the clan
comes first, how the clan will always come first!”

Marion wanted to shrink away and
disappear. She felt two hundred pairs of eyes on her, and it was worse than anything
she’d ever felt. It was worse than years of being invisible to her father, and
then only being seen for how he could use her. And Iain, she knew, could not
let the questions go unanswered with his clansmen looking on, and she feared
his words would be like tiny cuts to her heart.

Iain cursed under his breath. He’d known something
was stirring at Marion’s table by her worried look and the angry ones around
her. As he swept his gaze across the waiting crowd, he realized he had no
choice but to answer. Something inside him tightened painfully as he settled
his gaze on Marion. If he only had himself to consider, he’d fly the flag to
save her life without hesitation. Yet he was chief of the clan, and he always
had to consider the entire clan, and Fiona knew that. He’d married Catriona
because she’d needed him, but also because the clan had wanted it. He didn’t
regret it, and he grew to love her greatly, but he always considered the clan’s
needs and desires above his own.

“Iain,” Lachlan hissed beside him.
“Ye must answer.”

Iain nodded and spoke without
taking his eyes off Marion. “Ye all ken that the flag can only be flown three
times, and on the third, it will either destroy our enemies or destroy us. And
ye all ken it’s already been flown twice.”

“Aye,” came answers from nameless
faces in the crowd.

“It was flown first when the
MacDonalds battled us,” said a woman.

“And again during the plague,” said
Lachlan.

“Aye.” Iain had to choose his next
words carefully to preserve Marion’s feelings. As he considered how to say what
he must, his heart thudded in his chest and his ears. “When the flag is flown
again, it will be for the good of the clan, as is my duty.”

He hoped Marion understood. As he
stared at her, she did not seem upset. Her face did not fall, nor her shoulders
slump, but then Marion was used to trying to appear brave. Wanting to draw all
attention away from the Fairy Flag and what he would and would not do, he
motioned for the bard to come forth and begin the entertainment.

“Ye answered well,” Lachlan said.

“I dunnae ken that I did,” he
admitted. “I answered as my duty demands.”

“Aye, brother, I ken ye did. I hope
yer wife will understand.”

Iain hoped so, as well. He glanced
toward Marion through the crowd. Fiona was saying something to her, and
whatever it was, the color had drained from Marion’s face. Iain’s gut tightened
as she stood, waved Bridgette off, and moved toward the door.

Iain stood, but Lachlan caught his
arm. “Brother—”

“What?” Iain demanded. “There is
nothing wrong with me speaking to my wife.”

“Of course nae,” Lachlan said.
“It’s just a surprise to see ye show emotion. It’s been so long.”

“My wife does strange things to
me,” Iain admitted, baffled by his own reactions to Marion.

Iain caught Marion by the waist
just as she stepped outside the great hall. The corridor was empty, so he
turned her into his arms and slid his hands around her back. When she did not
look up but stared at his chest, he sighed. “Look at me, Marion.”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his.

“Why are ye leaving supper?”

“I’m tired,” she immediately
replied, her gaze skittering away.

He hooked a finger under her chin
and turned her face back to his. “Dunnae lie to me.”

“I am tired,” she said stubbornly,
tilting her chin upward.

He brought a hand to the curve of
her back and pressed her closer. “Are ye distraught over what I said regarding
the Fairy Flag?”

“No! It’s not that. I knew how you
would answer. You don’t love me.”

Something in the way she said the
words, as if there were more to say but she feared doing so, made him go
completely still. “Do ye love me?”

Her eyes went wide. “Of course
not!” A rosy flush covered her cheeks, her neck, the top of her chest. “That
would be foolish, not to mention too soon.” She bent her head and shuffled her
feet. “It’s not as if I really know you.” Fascinated, he watched as she brought
her hand to her hair and began to spin the golden strands around her finger. “I
do
know you are kind and honorable.”

He grinned at the top of her head.

“And you are fiercely faithful and
true, and I think you may be the most courageous man I know.”

“Ye only think?” he teased, his
chest tightening with every word she spoke.

Her head came sharply up, and she
smirked at him. “I have known many courageous men.”

He frowned at her. “Ye have
known
nary a man but me.”

Her blush deepened. “There is
knowing, and then there is
knowing
. And aye,” she said in the loveliest
attempt at a Scottish burr, “ye’re the only man I’ve ever
known
, and I’m
glad of it.”

“Ye did nae answer my question,” he
said in a low tone. The need to hear her answer roared like a tempest inside of
him.

“I’ve forgotten it,” she replied,
looking utterly innocent except for the blush still on her cheeks.

“Do ye love me?”

She scrunched her nose in the most
adorable way. “I’ve no coin left,” she grumbled.

“Coin? I dunnae ken…”

“I’ve no coin to buy an indulgence,
so I cannot sin.”

He frowned. “How would ye be
sinning?”

“It would be sin to lie to you!”
she burst out.

Iain stared at the beautiful,
confusing woman before him, and he felt his caution slip. “So ye do love me?”

“Yes,” she groaned.

Something deep within him shifted.
She was his. In body. In heart. Now what of her soul?

She was his completely. He took her
by the face and covered her mouth with his, sweeping his tongue around her
sweet, welcoming caverns. He was greedy for wanting her love when he knew he
had none to give in return, but he wanted it anyway. He’d give her other
things.

A throat cleared behind him. Iain
broke the kiss and turned to see Lachlan standing there grinning and staring.
Iain glared at his brother until he finally looked away.

“Yer absence is being noted. I hate
to take ye away from yer wife”—Lachlan gave Marion an overly appreciative glance
that made Iain grit his teeth—“but ye really should stay for the rest of the
feast, as it’s in honor of yer safe return to us with yer bride.”

Iain pressed Marion’s hand to his
chest. “Join me?”

She shook her head, refusing to
meet his gaze. “I truly am tired. I’ll just retire to my chamber if it’s been
readied.”

Iain frowned. He’d hoped Marion
would have decided she wanted to sleep with him and not in different chambers.
He knew he’d offered her the chamber, but it had only been to try to please
her. He wanted her with him. “It’s nae ready,” he said, glad for it. “Ye’ll
have to sleep with me.”

Whatever she was feeling, his wife,
who usually wore her emotions on her face like clothing, simply nodded,
expressionless. “If you wish.”

“I’ll nae be long,” he promised.

She nodded and turned to leave,
disappearing around the corner as he stared after her.

“Ye watch her like a hungry man
watches a deer he intends to consume.”

Iain faced Lachlan. “She makes me
feel like there’s an insatiable hunger in me.”

“Why does that make ye frown? It
seems a good thing to me.”

Iain scrubbed a hand over the back
of his neck. “I’m nae sure I can keep my control with her.” She’d already made
him forget himself in the bedchamber, but he wasn’t going to share that.

Astonishment crossed Lachlan’s
face. “Ye’ve never lost control afore her, have ye?”

Iain turned away, not wanting
Lachlan to see the truth. He’d loved Catriona, but she’d not stirred a storm in
him as Marion did. He felt at once guilty and disturbed. What was it that
Marion did to him? He abruptly turned back to his brother. Whatever it was,
he’d not discover the answer in the great hall while his wife was upstairs. The
sooner supper was over, the sooner he could go to her and try to sort out the
knots she’d tied in him. “Come. We must get back to the feast.”

Lachlan looked as if he might
argue, so Iain brushed past him, strode into the great hall, and resumed his
seat with his other brothers. It seemed an hour had passed as he listened to
the bard, and then he sat as several of his clansmen came to speak to him.
Finally, his people started to disperse, and he stood.

“Iain,” Cameron said, “I need a
moment.”

Iain barely held in the desire to
refuse his brother’s request. Cameron had been sitting at the table with him
all evening and there had been much time to talk, but obviously he wanted a
private moment.

Iain nodded. “What is it?”

Cameron glanced around the great
hall, as if to verify they were alone. “I’ve been speaking with Raghnall and he
is certain he can build us the faster ships we discussed. He’s demanding half
the payment for them now.”

“What do ye think?” Iain inquired.
He knew what he thought they should do, but he wanted his brother to decide. It
was time that Cameron asserted himself and felt the pressures and rewards of
making decisions. As the youngest MacLeod brother, Cameron had yet to truly
find his place.

Cameron tugged on his beard. He was
the only one of them who wore one. “I think we should pay him as he requests,
but I should personally oversee the building and make sure he completes it quickly.”

Iain nodded. He was pleased with
Cameron’s decision. Faster ships were worth the money for the speed they could
bring in battle. “Very well, then. Proceed.”

Iain started to rise again, keen to
get to Marion, but Cameron went on. “Do ye want to see the drawings Raghnall
and I did?”

Cameron wore an unmistakably eager
expression that Iain could not deny, no matter how much he wanted to rush
upstairs to Marion. “Of course,” he replied, hoping Marion would stay awake for
him.

Marion awoke the next morning, when Bridgette
thoughtfully came to lend her another gown until she could have another made.
Once Bridgette had departed, Marion stared first at the indentation in the fine
feather mattress on Iain’s side of the bed and then at the pile of clothes he’d
discarded in front of the bed, the ones he’d worn yesterday. So he had slept
here but had apparently awoken and left. She sighed as she started to dress for
the day in the gown Bridgette had brought her, questions and concerns swirling
in her head. She still could not believe that she loved Iain and that she’d
foolishly told him. But she had not wanted to lie to his face, and she’d seen
no other option but to offer the truth.

She worried that her confession was
the thing that kept Iain only by her side while she was asleep, and it was
making her feel slightly queasy. Coupled with the awful things Fiona had said
to her last night, Marion wanted to climb back into bed and hide from the
world. But she’d never been a coward before, and she was not going to become
one now. After a servant came and helped Marion tie her gown, Marion went to
Catriona’s trunk, drawn once again by her curiosity.

Catriona had died so young and so
unfairly, so the niggle of jealousy Marion felt toward the woman made her feel
awful. Fiona had told her at the feast that Catriona had confessed on her
deathbed that Iain had wanted to fly the Fairy Flag to save her, but Catriona
had vowed that if he did, she’d fling herself from a cliff. The woman was
selfless. For the good of her clan, Catriona had made her husband stay his
hand.

Marion swallowed the large lump in
her throat. Iain had loved Catriona with all his heart. He’d loved her so much
he’d been willing to put the needs of the clan after his need to save his wife.
Marion’s heart twisted. He’d never love her that way. He’d said himself that
he’d never fly the flag for her, and even knowing that, she’d confessed her
feelings.

What did she do now? She glanced
around the bedchamber, feeling like an intruder and out of sorts. One of the
few places she felt truly comfortable was in a kitchen, and the kitchen here
certainly could use her help. She wondered if Iain would frown upon it as her
father had, until he realized how much better the food tasted with her
directing the staff.

She heaved a sigh as she started
for the door. She was going to have to go search out Iain and gain his
permission to make some changes in the kitchen. The prospect of locating the
husband who seemed to be avoiding her was daunting, but if she was going to get
the MacLeod women to like her, she had to start somewhere besides Fiona and
Alanna, both of whom clearly despised her.