When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (38 page)

When Iain dropped his own sword and
fell to the ground, looking up at the sky with his eyes shut, Marion called
out. She ran to him and fell at his knees as the battle continued around them.

He gazed at her in clear wonder and
reached out a shaking hand to touch her cheek. “Are ye real?”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled
down her face. “Yes,” she choked out.

Iain crushed her to him, and she
could feel the violent thundering of his heart and trembling of his body.

“Watch out,” Peter shouted, and
Iain jerked up, bringing her with him. He shoved her behind him, withdrew a
dagger, and killed the knight attempting to kill him. Wordlessly, he bent down,
retrieved his sword, and looked at her. “Stay by my side.”

“I will,” she replied as he pressed
through the battle, Peter beside him, until they got to the wall.

“Dunnae move from the wall. I will
nae leave ye,” he promised.

She nodded and pressed her back
against the wall, then watched in almost fascinated horror as King Edward’s
banner was raised and cheers erupted from the Scots, Edward’s knights, and even
some of her father’s. Yet the battle raged on until bodies lay thick across the
bailey, Iain defending her all the while, alongside his brother Lachlan, who
had joined him and Peter.

Finally, a trumpet sounded and
cheers rose again. Iain turned, dropped his sword, and strode toward her. As he
helped her to her feet and she looked out at the castle grounds, she saw her
father with his head hanging, kneeling before the king.

“It’s over,” she whispered.

“Aye,” Iain said. Then his brow
furrowed and he reached out to touch her bruised neck. “What did he do to you?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she
replied through her tears, and then she remembered about the Fairy Flag. Had he
flown it? Surely, there had been no need.

“Iain,” she said, “the Fairy Flag…
You didn’t fly it, did you?”

He frowned at her as several of his
men came to surround them. “Nay. I did nae even bring it. I had nae a doubt I
would triumph.” With those words, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her
deeply to the cheering of his men.

It was a long time before Marion was alone with
Iain. When daylight had dawned and silence had finally mostly descended over
the knights and Scots camped in her father’s—or what had been her
father’s—inner bailey, and Iain’s talks with King Edward and the other lairds
finally ended, Iain came for her. She’d elected to sleep in the stables rather
than in the keep in her old bedchamber. She never wanted to go in the keep that
held so many bad memories again.

Clutching Iain’s plaid around her,
she sat alone with Lachlan, their backs against a stall and the stable door
open wide. A breeze blew strands of her hair across her face, and she pushed
them away as she watched Iain approach. Her heart swelled with happiness that
he was alive, but a sadness dulled the joy. Her father was to be put to death,
and though he’d not loved her, he had been her father.

With the darkness gone, she could
clearly see myriad cuts on Iain’s face, arms, and parts of his chest. He’d
pulled his hair back and tied it at the base of his neck, making him appear
even more foreboding with the hard lines of his face and the way he’d set his
mouth in a grimace.

She searched his gaze as he neared,
and while she saw the gentleness she knew there, something else dwelled in the
blue depths. It appeared to be wariness, and the idea made her breath catch in
her throat. Whatever could be wrong?

“Brother,” Lachlan said, as if a
silent command had been given and understood. Lachlan rose quickly and departed
without a word, shutting the stable door behind him.

Marion’s heart pounded nervously as
Iain kneeled down before her. He started to reach for her hands and then
stilled, as if unsure. What was this strangeness in him?

“Will ye let me touch ye?” he
asked.

She frowned, her heart tripping in
her chest. “Why would I not? I’ve longed for nothing but you since the day I
was taken from Dunvegan.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face.
“Then ye’re nae fearful?”

“Not of your touch, but I am
worried about this strangeness between us.”

“Ah,
a ghràidh
,” he choked
out as he gently enfolded her in his arms.

She pressed her cheek to his chest
and listened to the frenzied beating of his heart. Something was troubling him
greatly. She pushed away from him until he loosened his arms so she could look
up at him.

His eyes filled with an odd
understanding and sadness. “It’s too much, then? To be held?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Is it
too much for you to hold me?”

“Of course nae!” he said, his tone
forceful. “It does nae matter to me. I want ye to ken that. All that matters is
that I have ye back alive. We’ll take what’s to come together. If”—he inhaled
sharply—“if ye have Froste’s bairn in yer belly, I’ll raise the child as my
own. I swear it. The bairn would be a part of ye, as well.”

Shock ran through her, followed
swiftly by overwhelming love. “Iain.” She grasped his hand and pressed her
cheek against it. “I didn’t think I could ever love you more than I already do,
but you’ve proven me wrong.”

“I feel the same,
a ghràidh.
I—”

She set her finger to his lips.
“Froste never joined with me, Iain.”

He brushed her hand away. “But—”

“No.” She stopped his words yet
again. She could only imagine how Froste must have taunted and lied to Iain
before they had fought. “I don’t know what he said to you, but it was a lie. He
wanted to take me, but I pointed out to him that if he did before I’d gotten my
flux and then I had a bairn, he’d not know if it was his or yours.”

A dark look of rage swept over
Iain’s face. “If he was nae already dead I’d kill him.”

Marion wrapped her arms around her
husband’s waist, and this time, when he enveloped her, it was in a crushing
embrace.

“He tried to force me right before
you came,” she said, “and I hit him with a tree branch. Then Father came to
tell Froste you’d arrived and they left me alone. When I next saw you and you
asked me what he’d done, I thought you meant had he tortured or hurt me. I
would not have said it didn’t matter had I known. I’m so sor—”

Her apology was smothered under the
hot assault of Iain’s mouth on hers. His lips parted hers in a soul-reaching
message:
mine
. And she was. Each slant of his mouth over hers demanded
an answer, and soon they were running their hands frantically over each other’s
bodies, ripping at the meager clothing between them. When his hands touched her
bare skin, he branded her with every touch, every caress down her belly and
swirl over her breasts. He kissed a path across her neck and over each
shoulder, whispering his love and need for her between each kiss. He kneaded
her back as his mouth burned a trail down her stomach to press a kiss on each
trembling leg. She wanted him to take her. She needed him inside her, to feel
him as she’d not felt him in so long.

“Iain,” she gasped as her desire
became almost unbearable with each slide of his finger into her body. When he
didn’t answer, she grasped his hair and tugged.

He gazed up at her, his eyes dazed
with his own fierce need.

“Take me!” she demanded, passion
pounding the blood through her veins to her heart.

“Gladly,
a ghràidh
,” he
growled, and in one sweeping motion, he laid her back on the straw and plunged
inside her.

Their joining was unlike anything
she had experienced before. It was raw and primitive, fueled by the
exhilaration of surviving battle and laced with a potent need to assure each
other that the connection between them could never be broken. They reached
their climax together, their screams likely putting smiles on many Scots’
faces. When their frenzied joining was over, Iain took her again, slowly and
gently. This time, they came together in calmness and gently explored each
other, bringing each other to slow, torturous climaxes. When they were both
utterly spent, they lay on Iain’s plaid and simply stared into each other’s
eyes until they fell asleep.

Hours later, Marion awoke to find
Iain was gazing at her in awe. She smiled at him. “Have you slept at all?”

“Nay.”

“Why not?”

“I was listening to yer breath and
watching yer face. Ye smile when ye sleep, and ye do this little thing with yer
lips where ye suck on the lower one.” He rolled toward her and brought her into
the cradle of his arm.

She laid her ear against his heart
and traced a finger over his ribs. “I can hear your heart beating.”

“I imagine it’s loud,” he said with
a chuckle.

She tilted her head back and looked
at him. “Why would you imagine that?”

A wistful smile pulled at the
corners of his mouth. “Because ye’ve made my heart grow, Marion. I thought I
could never open it up again but ye helped me to do so, and with as much as I
love ye, it must be a verra big thing beating in my chest now. I am verra
fortunate.”

Marion laid her palm over his
heart. “I’m the fortunate one. You’ve given me what I always wanted—to be loved
and to feel like I’m part of a family.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “We
are both fortunate, aye?”

She pressed her lips to his. “Aye,”
she replied, mimicking his burr.

“Ye’re no longer a Sassenach at
all,” he said with a chuckle.

“Nay,” she replied, grinning. “I’m
a MacLeod.”

Two months later

After supper had ended and the entertainment had
begun, Marion sat beside Iain on the dais and watched Cameron, Graham, and
Lachlan each dance a jig for the honor of being declared the champion, allowing
them to pick the maiden he wished to dance with for the rest of the night.
Cheers erupted after each man finished his jig, and when the competition came
to an end, everyone in the great hall looked to Iain to announce the winner.

He held up a hand for patience and
turned to Marion. “Who should I choose?” he whispered in her ear.

She cast a surreptitious glance
from under her lashes at each brother and then to Bridgette, who sat at the
table just below Marion. Bridgette stared at Lachlan with thinly veiled
longing. When Graham turned to give Bridgette a wink, she ripped her gaze off
Lachlan and blushed furiously at Graham. Marion sighed. Graham would think the
blush was for him, but Marion knew Bridgette’s pink cheeks were from having
been caught gaping at Lachlan, who had seemed to have done his best to avoid
Bridgette altogether upon their return from England, which told Marion he felt
something for Bridgette.

“Marion,” Iain urged softly.

She sighed again and pressed her
mouth close to his ear. “I think Bridgette likes Lachlan but feels she owes
Graham since he almost died to save her.”

“Aye, and Graham has eyes only for
Bridgette. What shall we do?” he asked in a low voice.

“Pick Cameron.”

“But was it nae plain to see that
he was the worst at the jig?”

Marion giggled. “Undoubtedly, but
we can tell them our secret to distract anyone who may wish to object.”

Iain cocked an eyebrow at her.
“We’ve a secret?”

“Aye, laird,” she purred, fairly
bursting with joy. “We’ve a bairn on the way.”

Iain’s jaw dropped open, and then
he grinned and gathered her into his arms to give her a passionate kiss.

Cheers erupted in the hall once
again.

“Who’s the winner?” Graham
demanded.

“Aye,” Lachlan added. “Which of us
has triumphed?”

“I’m certain I’m the winner,”
Cameron said, crowing with laughter.

“Nay, I’m the winner,” Iain
announced. “I’ve a bairn on the way!”

With that, Iain leaped over the
table and attempted to dance a jig, the likes of which Marion had never seen.

She laughed as she watched her
husband, secretly thinking that she was the biggest winner of them all.

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