Eleven
Alex could not decide whether he was wearier or more irritated as he washed up for supper, but when he was finished and Lara stopped him to sing Lena’s praises to him for how very bold Lena had been in the kitchens today with Hamish, Alex concluded that irritation had won. Lara was the sixth woman to tell him of his wife’s behavior today, and though he was pleased she was shedding her fear, it was foolish and dangerous to become too brazen. His task was to protect her, and if she went about challenging all the men who were unhappy with him, she might come across a rash man who would hurt her.
Alex dried off as he thought on Hamish. He’d allowed the man to stay at Duart because he’d not had definitive proof that Hamish had known of Archibald’s plans and Alex was not one to condemn any man on suspicion. He knew well that Hamish had grown angry and resentful at having been demoted from one of his guards to the stables, and he’d been waiting for the man’s anger to cool to see if Hamish would settle in to his new life or if Alex indeed needed to send the man away from Duart. He’d hesitated to banish him because of the man’s sister and Baldwin. They’d both suffered for what many perceived as Hamish’s betrayal, and Alex knew if he banished the man, Hamish would force the lass and lad to join him in banishment.
Alex could offer to find a husband for the lass, but Baldwin would have to depart as his father saw fit, and Alex had seen the closeness between the lass and her nephew. And besides that, Baldwin was a good lad. Greer was like a mother to Baldwin since he’d lost his own, which was why, even though he’d not seen the change he had wished for, he had hesitated to ban Hamish. Alex donned his plaid and made his way to the great hall, determined to outline very clear rules to his blossoming wife. Yet, when he entered the room and saw her standing with Donald, her head thrown back in laughter and her hand actually resting on Donald’s arm, Alex’s steps faltered. Instead of marching over to confront her and give her dictates meant to protect her from all harm, he found himself standing still and staring.
She had on a blue gown he’d not seen before, and it complemented her body in a way that stirred his blood to a boil. He had a sudden desire to stride over to her, snatch her up like a bag of wheat, and toss her over his shoulder to take her to her bedchamber where they could enjoy each other until they were both spent and near sleep. His very temporary good mood vanished in a breath, however, and frustration settled like an unshakable winter cough in his chest. He could enjoy her, and she him, but he could not give her what she wanted, what he was certain she needed. He could not hold her in her sleep and make her feel safe because he himself was a threat to her.
He clenched his teeth on a spurt of anger. He may not be able to protect her in her sleep, but he was damned sure going to do so when they were both awake. With that purpose in mind, he marched over to her. “Lena.” Her name came out as a growl, making him wince.
Donald gaped at him, and the man’s obvious disapproval did nothing to improve Alex’s worsening mood, originally brought on by that clot-heid Fardley’s inability to improve at all today. If the man kept up his training with the same lack of advancement as he had today, they would both be gaunt in less than a sennight. One meal a day was not enough to sustain a man.
“Aye, my laird?” Lena asked, her words perfectly proper but her tone challenging. Damned if her show of strength did not make him want to grin, but he dared not. He wanted her to be bold but not so much so that she endangered herself. It was a hard line to traverse, indeed.
“A word, if ye please, Wife.” He gave Donald a look, intending to convey that the man should leave, but he just crossed his arms over his chest as his mouth pulled into an amused smile.
“The training with Fardley certainly lasted all day,” Donald said in a pleasant, poking tone.
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Aye. The man is nae quick to learn from his mistakes. We’ll be at it again on the morrow.”
Donald chuckled. “That explains yer sour mood.”
“Amongst other things,” Alex admitted, holding Lena’s probing gaze. “Dunnae ye have somewhere pressing to be, Donald?”
“Och, nay,” the man responded, making Alex want to throttle him.
Alex’s patience snapped. “Be gone,” he growled, to which Donald complied with a hearty laugh.
Lena scowled at Alex, and when they were alone, she set her hands to her hips. “That was verra rude of ye.”
“Nay, it was deliberately insolent of Donald. He kenned I wished him to depart.”
“Perchance I did nae wish it,” she retorted. “Ye did actually interrupt my conversation with him.”
“And what, pray tell, were the two of ye conversing about that so amused ye?” he asked, sliding a finger down the expanse of exposed flesh on her arm.
She shivered but said, “Ye as a lad. He was telling me stories of the mischief ye found yerself in the midst of. Like the time ye wanted to see what would happen if ye stuck yer hand inside a hornet nest.”
Alex seized on his opportunity to use his own foolishness to warn her gently. “Oh aye. That was nae wise. My hand was swollen for so long that I almost lost the use of my fingers.”
“Oh!” she gasped. “Donald did nae tell me that part.”
Looking around, he found most of his clan now seated, and many staring at him and Lena. With a flourish of his hand, he bid them, “By all means, commence supper.” He then took Lena by the elbow and led her just outside the door to the great hall, wishing for discretion. Once the door closed, he spoke. “I was a bold lad, aye, but foolish. It took me some years to learn when to be bold and when to be careful.”
Lena snorted and gave him a disbelieving look. “As far as I’ve seen since my return to my family, ye are always bold.”
“I make it look so, Lena,” he said. “But I always weigh the risk of injury, and I ken well when to seek aid. And I dunnae need aid now.”
She frowned. “What do ye mean? Aid with what?”
He rolled his shoulders, seeking to ease his tension while also taking a moment to find the best words so he would not anger his wife, yet he would let her know he expected her not to engage in arguments on his behalf. “I dunnae need ye to defend me against men who are vexed with me.”
Her mouth parted, then settled into a grim line. “I see the kitchen ladies have been gossiping about this afternoon.”
“Singing yer praises is more like it,” he said.
She scowled. “They may have made it sound that way to ye, but they were gossiping.”
He sighed. “I’ll nae argue that point. Wife. I ken well that Hamish is vexed with the lot I have given him, but I have control of Hamish.”
“Do ye?” she challenged, arching her brows high.
“Aye, I do,” he snapped, not liking her tone. He needed absolute control and authority. That’s how he had led his life since the day Gillis had stripped Alex of his control. It was how he managed his ghosts in the daytime, and he could not abide less than that.
A peeved look settled on Lena’s face. “How exactly do ye have control of Hamish?” she demanded.
“I am watching him to see if he accepts his place in the clan now.”
“Then ye are nae watching carefully enough,” she bit out. Her face immediately softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. His anger had spiked, but at her touch, it vanished with a breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, the edge in her voice gone. “I dunnae mean to quarrel.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close until they were pressed together chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Her softness and smell enticed him like nothing he’d ever known. “I dunnae wish to quarrel, either,” he said, unable to resist brushing her hair away from her neck and placing what was supposed to be a chaste kiss there, but when she gave a little mewling sigh of pleasure, he lifted her off her feet and drew her into a dark corner under the stairs to deepen the kiss. Never had he abandoned the leashed restraint he maintained over himself in the daytime. Women had always been for dark, nightly pleasures, but the pleasure Lena brought to him burned bright like a torch to light his way. He wanted to take her and wrap himself around her, hold her tight, and never release her. She made his control disappear and his heart thud painfully against his ribs. It was both exhilarating and troubling. He could not forget the limits of what he could give.
Still, in this moment, with sleep now very far from his mind, he desired to feast on his wife instead of food. “Lena?”
“Aye,” she replied, her voice husky. “Let us forget supper and go to my bedchamber.”
“Ye kenned my thoughts before I voiced them,” he replied, his body already strumming with anticipation of joining with his wife.
She chuckled. “’Twas nae hard. Yer yearning for me is clear on yer face.”
He took Lena’s hand in his. As he led her out from under the steps and up the staircase, he said, “And this dunnae cause fear in ye any longer, aye?”
“Aye,” she replied. “Nae fear. Yer desire pleases me.”
“Excellent,” he said, impatience to strip his wife naked bursting within him. He stopped, slid an arm under her legs, laughing when she yelped, and swooped her up into his hold. She nestled against his chest. “Ye will be dying with pleasure verra soon, Wife.”
“Oh, ye’re a brute!” she said with a hearty laugh. “We’ll be the gossip of Duart.”
He nodded as he saw a servant at the top of the stairs pause as she descended, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I certainly hope so. I rather like the thought of the servants and my clan gossiping about how much I desire ye.”
“Alex,” Lena hissed, tapping him on the chest rapidly. “Put me down! Dunnae ye see the servant.”
“Aye, Wife. I’d be blind if I did nae,” he said. The servant was so close now that she likely had heard Lena’s question and Alex’s reply.
“My lord. My lady,” the servant said, bobbing a curtsy.
Alex stole a glance at Lena, amused to see her cheeks splotchy with color. He should take mercy on her, but…
“I twisted my ankle,” Lena blurted to the servant.
Alex chuckled. “My wife lies. She was desperate to have me alone as quickly as possible. Insisted I carry her, she did.”
Lena narrowed her eyes at him, but he ferreted her past the servant before she could reply.
“Ye really are incorrigible!” she said, as he entered her bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him.
“Aye,” he agreed, feeling altogether happy that they could share such a carefree moment. “Ye bring it out in me,” he admitted. “’Tis been years since I’ve felt so light at heart.”
She placed her hand on his chest and stroked him. “I want to bring something else out in ye, as well,” she teased, her voice a sultry caress.
“What’s that?” he asked, brushing kisses down her neck and enjoying the way she quivered at his touch.
“Last night, when we were together,” she said, her words stilted at first but growing smoother and stronger as she spoke. “I ken ye were holding back, being careful and gentle for me.” Her gaze came to his, and he could see an entreaty in the depths of her eyes. “I’m so grateful for how ye have treated me with such care since we were married, and really even before that, but I dunnae wish ye to leash yer desires with me in the bed tonight, Husband. I want ye to release the restraint ye have put on yerself.”
The notion of taking her in all the ways he could conjure made him grow rigid everywhere and filled him with gladness that none of the ways he conjured involved the need to be in control as they always had with other women. Still, he was afraid the intensity of his passion for her might scare her. “I believe if I released all my restraints and took ye in the thousands of ways I can imagine, ye’d run from the room.”
“I will nae,” she insisted. “I’m nae afraid of ye or yer touch.”
“Ye’d think me barbaric,” he assured her.
A devilish smile tugged at her lips. “With ye, I rather like barbaric.”
Perchance it was the blatant look of desire she gave him, or the way her tongue darted out of her mouth to wet first her full upper lip and then her lower, or it could have been the light touch of the fingertips she had slipped under his kilt. He was not sure which, maybe one or all three, but his hold on his restraint faltered. Claiming her lips, he crushed her to him. He wanted to drink in her smell, her taste, the very essence of her. He explored her mouth with his tongue, not having to demand anything because she gave before he could ask. Their tongues swirled and retreated before coming together again. He only broke the kiss to toss her gently on the bed. He swiftly removed his clothing, his yearning consuming him as he watched her tug off her gown and bare herself to him, no longer trying to cover herself as she had done previously.
“Ye’re a miracle,” he whispered with reverence, meaning it to the depths of his soul. She was his miracle to protect and treasure.
She opened her arms wide and beckoned him to her. When he slid his arms around her and splayed his hands over her back, she kissed his collarbone, his neck, and finally his lips. “And ye are my miracle,” she said. “Now show me yer deepest desires.”
Gently he eased her back, running his hands over the silken skin of her stomach and down to her inner thighs. He eased his hands under her buttocks to flip her to her belly. She shot up onto her knees so fast, she nearly knocked him backward with her motion. “Lena?”
She glanced back at him, panting, a wild look in her eyes. “I… Ye… It’s just that he—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, a now very familiar rage filling his chest. He could only guess what Findlay had done to her. “Dunnae fash yerself, Mo chailin chalma. I have many other desires to experience with ye.”
Hearing Alex call her his “brave one,” combined with the tenderness and concern in his eyes, and his willingness to only go where she led him was enough to instill bravery firmly back in Lena’s heart. She wanted to wipe all her old nightmares from her mind, and there was no better way than to replace the horrible memories with new, wonderful ones. Her husband was an expert wooer, whether he knew it or not. He had but to give her a kind look or a tender word, and she was like clay in his hands.
Silently, she turned and made her way back onto her belly. Her heart thumped wildly, but she was going forward into the dark, allowing Alex to shine light. “Show me,” she whispered.
Suddenly, his thighs brushed either side of her hips, the bed dipped under his weight, and the heat of his body pressed down on her. His fingers came to her back, and she fought the rigidness that came by clenching her teeth. Yet, when he started to rub her back gently, then her neck, shoulders, legs, and buttocks, every bit of tension that had consumed her slipped away. He spoke softly to her, repeating the refrain he had before: Mo chailin chalma.
She could not say how long he attended to her body, but she felt almost leaden, as if lifting an arm or leg would take more effort than she could gather. He feathered kissed down her back, trailing them along her spine, and worshiping each of her globes. When she was sure he was close to having his way, he surprised her by gently easing her onto her back and showering her front with the same attention he had shown her backside. Each kiss, touch, and caress was exquisite and loving, and stoked that same hot desire he had managed to ignite moments ago.
Soon, she was panting, writhing, and demanding he cease teasing her, and he answered by suckling on one aching nipple and then the other. He kissed his way down each of her legs in turn and worked his way back up to the juncture between her thighs to bring her so much pleasure that she could not hold back her cries of ecstasy. When he was finished, he came up to hover over her and moved to grasp her under her buttocks, but she shook her head.
“Nay,” she whispered and flipped onto her belly. “As ye were going to before.”
“Ye’re certain?” he asked, his lips pressed close to her ear. His fingers trailed over her back, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.
“I—Alex, I’ve nae ever been more certain of anything in my life.”
And then he gently cupped her hips and eased into her with care, stilling when she was positive he had to be at his hilt. She felt full in body and heart.
“Are ye fine?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “I’m wonderful.” Tears of joy came to her eyes, and Alex began to move and introduce her to exactly how beautiful and pleasurable such an act could be. As he stroked in and out of her faster and his fingers curled into her flesh to grip her tighter, her own need mounted and clawed back to the top. She cried out and sobbed at once when she found her release, and at the same time, she knew Alex had found his.
He stopped abruptly, pulling her hair back from her damp cheek. “Have I hurt ye?”
He sounded horrified, so she quickly shook her head. “Nay,” she assured him. “Ye brought me so much pleasure I could nae contain it.”
“’Tis how it should be,” he replied, kissing her shoulder and then slipping off the bed.
“Where are ye away to?” she asked when, after a brief moment, her bedchamber door squeaked as it was opened. As she flipped onto her back, the sight of her husband’s muscled back and legs greeted her. Only his manhood and buttocks were covered by the plaid wrapped around his waist.
He turned at her question and grinned, looking like a child with a secret. “Dunnae fash yerself. I’ll return verra quickly.”
She frowned. “Ye kinnae go about like that!”
“I’m nae venturing far,” he said and then shut her door before she could protest.
By the time she had untangled herself from the bed linens, used the washbasin, and managed to don her léine, he returned, this time with a mischievous look on his face.
“Come,” he said, gesturing to her.
“But I’m nae dressed!”
He chuckled. “Ye’re too dressed as it is. Besides, ye dunnae need clothing for what I have in mind.”
“I kinnae depart this—”
She did not get the rest of the sentence out. Alex swept her off her feet just as he had before, except this time he slung her over his shoulder, and gently smacked her bottom as he strode out of her bedchamber, in spite of her protests. To her embarrassment, two servants were exiting his room, and both men chuckled.
“Put me down!” she bellowed, which only elicited a cluck of the tongue from her husband.
But seconds later, he did set her down on her feet, placing a steadying hand on her elbow. She opened her mouth to tell him she did not appreciate being handled like chattel, but Freya stood before her. Lena promptly clamped her mouth shut.
Freya looked between her and Alex with amused wonder, only seeming to remember herself when Alex pointedly cleared his throat. She blinked, and color kissed her cheeks. “My laird,” she rushed out with a bob of her head. “Does the sup please ye?” she asked, sweeping a hand toward the wall behind Lena.
Lena turned around and gasped at the vast spread of food laid out on the table. Any irritation she’d been feeling disappeared as her heart squeezed in her chest.
“That will be all, Freya,” Alex said in a smooth, deep voice from behind Lena.
She heard Freya’s departing footsteps, but she was too absorbed with taking in all Alex had done in such a short amount of time that she did not turn around to bid the woman good night. Cheese, bread, mince pies, and apple tarts filled the trenchers, and a pair of goblets were brimming with wine. In the other corner of the room, along the same wall, a wooden bathing tub was filled with steaming water. As she drew nearer to it, she gaped at the flower petals floating in the water and the scent of chamomile wafting from it.
Suddenly, she felt Alex behind her, a pillar of strength and a fountain of generosity. A lump lodged in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She did not just care greatly for this man. She loved him. She’d blurted before that she could love him, but she did love him. It didn’t matter that they had not been married long. He had slipped inside her heart and staked his claim, whether he had meant to or not. He’d shown her tenderness, kindness, understanding, and patience, and he’d asked nothing in return.
She wanted to tell him of her feelings, but she feared it may be too soon, that he might not be ready to hear such a thing from her, particularly given how he still was keeping secrets from her. Beyond that, she wanted very much to think that if she told him she loved him, she might hear it in return, and she just could not say for certain that she would. There was also a frightened part of her that knew how heartbreaking it would feel if he did not reciprocate, so instead of professing her newfound love, she turned in his arms, stood on her tiptoes, cupped his face, and brushed her lips to his.
“Thank ye,” she said.
“Ye are most welcome. Are ye still vexed with me for carrying ye out of yer bedchamber?”
She shook her head. “I’d be a shrew indeed to be vexed in light of what ye have done for me. Ye are verra thoughtful.”
He suddenly looked chagrinned. “Nay. I’m greedy.”
She cocked her eyebrows in question.
He swiped a hand over his stubble. “I had a fantasy to bathe ye and with ye, but I’m famished,” he admitted ruefully. “I was hoping that if I fed ye and gave ye wine, ye’d let me have my way again.” He grinned like a naughty lad, and she simply had to chuckle.
“About being famished,” she said, seeing an opportunity to address one of the things she wanted to discuss with him.
“Aye?”
“Dunnae ye think ye are being too harsh nae allowing Fardley any food or drink while ye train in this heat?”
“Nay,” Alex answered, his tone ringing with an air of finality and authority that made her hackles rise. She swatted them down. He was used to being obeyed without question, and here she was, his new wife, questioning his decisions. She needed to go about this in a more delicate way.
She nodded, trying to recall how Bridgette had used her wiles to attain what she wanted with Lachlan, and how Marion used her feminine cunning to convince Lena’s stubborn, overbearing brother Iain to hear and accept Marion’s opinion. Lena didn’t really care to be deceptive, but in this case, she’d make an exception since Alex was foolishly endangering himself with his punishment of Fardley. He could become gravely ill training all day without eating or drinking, and if Donald’s earlier teasing words were to be believed, Fardley’s training was likely to take many days.
“I’m sure ye are correct, Husband,” she said, pitching her voice low and running her hand down Alex’s bare, chiseled chest. “Ye are wise and knowledgeable in the ways of training warriors, and ye are laird,” she added for good measure while trailing her fingertips over the defined planes of his stomach muscles down to his braies, which he must have slipped on in his own bedchamber after departing hers. She tickled a finger under the upper edge of his braies, and he hissed his pleasure, causing a sharp sensation to pulse in Lena’s belly and even lower to her core.
“I’m simply a woman,” she continued in almost a purr, relishing the sudden surge of power his obvious desire for her made her feel. “I fear for yer well-being. I heard that ye were nae taking food or drink, either, and it makes me fash so for ye. Ye dunnae wish me to fash, do ye?” She stared up at him, hoping her ruse had worked.
He caught the fingertips she’d been tracing up his stomach, and he brought them to his lips where he pressed a kiss to them. “I see what ye’re doing, and I’m pleased that ye now have the boldness to do it, amused that ye believe it would work on me, and filled with regret that I must continue to vex ye, but I kinnae alter the punishment I’ve set.”
Pursing her lips, she tugged her hand away and glared at Alex, which elicited a devastating smile from him. The man was impossible. He had the ability to make her elated and irritated at the same time. “Will ye nae ever hear my opinions and take my advice in matters of the clan?” she demanded.
“I will, but nae in matters that are to keep ye from harm.”
“How is punishing Fardley protecting me?” she demanded.
“He showed that he did nae ken how to accurately assess a situation, and he must be able to do that if he is to correctly judge my enemies, which are yers now, too. A good warrior must perceive their enemy’s actions before they make them. Regarding perceiving actions…” Alex gave Lena a look that she was sure would make most men tremble, but she’d come to know his tender side, so she stared boldly back, provoking a disgruntled sigh from him. “Dunnae forget what I told ye about trying to defend me from any who might be my enemies,” he said, his tone unyielding. “I’ll nae abide ye putting yerself at risk.”
“Is that an order?” She set her hands on her hips as her heart thumped angrily against her ribs. Findlay had ordered her about, and it hurt that Alex might do the same, even if his dictates were born out of a desire to keep her safe. But he took away her right to choose with such actions. How could he not see that?
Unmistakable irritation flickered across his face but did not linger. “I dunnae wish to order ye about, Lena, but if ye need to be commanded to do as I say, then aye, it is an edict.”
She could feel her eyes narrowing and her pulse escalating. “So, just to be clear, any time ye believe something may put me in peril, ye will give me a directive nae to do it?”
“Aye,” he immediately replied, apparently needing no time to think about it.
Men! They are so very frustrating!
“I’m nae to have the same rights as ye?” she asked on a growl as she poked him in the chest. “Ye will do as ye please while I’m to obey ye always like a well-trained hound?”
He went to catch the finger she’d poked him with, but she snatched her hand away. This time, distinct weariness settled on his features. “Everything I do,” he said slowly, “I do to keep ye safe. If that means ye are cross with me now, I regret it, even despise it, but I kinnae change my actions. I would rather die than allow harm to come to ye, so it’s verra easy to live with yer being cross. What I could nae live with would be kenning that harm came to ye because I had allowed ye to do something that put ye in danger, simply so ye would nae be vexed with me.”
“Why must ye put it that way?” she wailed, even as she curled her hands into fists. She could not stay truly angry, knowing what he did came from a desperate need to protect her, and now she could not share with him her suspicions about Greer’s treatment at her brother’s hand. She feared that if she did, he would forbid her to go to the kitchens and see Greer until it was settled. Or he might not be cautious at all, even when told of Greer’s warning. Lena sensed the situation with Greer and her brother required caution and sensible plotting. And what of the situation with Marsaili? Lena had to tell Alex what she had learned, but if he decided Marsaili was a threat to her, would he keep them apart? And what if he was really was planning on joining forces with the Steward as Marsaili believed he might be? Lena sighed. She had to know, though there was a part of her that did not want to learn anything to shatter the fragile happiness she’d discovered with Alex.
“Does that mean ye are nae so vexed with me that ye will refuse to eat and bathe with me now?” Alex asked, interrupting her musings.
She glanced from her husband, to the food, to the bath. Whatever she was going to learn, she would prefer to hear it while clean and with a full stomach. Heartbreak was likelier easy to take that way. Directly after the bath, she’d speak with him about Marsaili.
“Lena, are ye purposely nae answering me?” he asked, smirking.
“Nay, just lost in thought. Let us eat and bathe.”
He grinned and wasted no time filling them each a trencher. She watched, astonished, as the man consumed massive amounts of food and drink. She barely had five bites down before he refilled his trencher. “Ye ken, ye’re so famished because ye did nae eat all day.”
He winked at her from where he stood at the table. “I’m so famished from how ye worked my body. I need to replenish myself for what’s to come.”
“Ye’re that certain more is to come, are ye?” she replied, teasing.
“Only if ye wish it,” he said, serious. He set his trencher down, walked over to her, and kneeled in front of her, putting his hands on her knees. “I would never force ye, Lena. Ye have the right to refuse me anytime ye wish. Ye ken this, aye?”
That new love she’d discovered swelled to near bursting with her. “I ken it, Alex.”
Once they were finished eating, they slowly undressed each other. Alex slipped off her gown, exploring her body with eager hands and devouring her with hungry eyes. Despite her scars, he managed to make her feel flawless and beautiful, and she was keen to do the same for him.
Standing naked before her husband, she ran her hands along his long, strong legs from his calves to his thighs, and over his tight buttocks, up his corded back, and over his broad shoulders to come back down his chest where he captured her hands, pressed them to her sides, and then scooped her up, only to deliver her a moment later into the now-warm water. He slid in the small basin behind her, sloshing water over the side to the wood boards.
He settled her back against his chest, the springy hairs there tickling her back as his thighs pressed against hers and caged her in the protective shelter of his embrace. “May I wash ye?” he asked, his warm breath fanning the sensitive skin of her neck as his arms encircled her. Her soft body molded to his hard lean one, and she could feel the powerful beat of his heart. He’d shown her more care, concern, and tenderness than she’d ever known, and though he’d not opened up to her when she’d asked him to reveal his past, he was revealing things about himself, even though he likely did not know it. He was gallant and gentle while being fierce and ruthless when need be. She nodded. Every memory she made with him truly was replacing the bad ones she still held from her time with Findlay.
He picked up the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands. When he placed his hands on her breasts and began to massage them, hot spirals of desire shot out from her center. Once he had washed her breasts, stomach, and arms, he brought his mouth close to hers and said, “Lean forward for me, lass.”
She did as he bid, and his strong hands came to her head and carefully tilted it back, before she heard a swish and warm water sluiced over her head to trail down her neck and shoulders. He delved his hands into her hair and massaged her scalp until she felt her eyes grow heavy, and her limbs as well. Once he had rinsed the soap from her hair, he shifted her forward, reached around her to cleanse her legs, and then he rose to stand behind her.
“What are ye doing?” she asked drowsily, looking up to see him. He was magnificent—all male and all hers.
He grinned most devilishly at her. “I’m getting a wrap for ye.”
She blinked in surprise. “Do ye mean to tell me yer fantasy consisted only of washing me?”
“Nay,” he said, his voice gliding over her and making her shiver in anticipation. “I’ll show ye what else my fantasy consists of,” he teased.
And a heartbeat later, as he brought her to the height of pleasure with his tongue and then gently hefted her off her feet and took her against the wall with his arms supporting all her weight, she learned well what an imagination he had. When he was done with her, she felt deliciously exhausted.
They lay side by side on his bed, thighs pressed together and arms and hands intertwined. He’d stoked a fire to chase away the chill in the room. Shadows danced on the ceiling, and she watched them for a long while in silence, contemplating if she should raise the subject of Marsaili tonight. She feared it would break the magic spell they seemed to be under, so instead, she said, “Tell me more of yer childhood,” hoping it might lead him to feel more at ease to reveal whatever he was hiding from her.
He pulled her into the crook of his arm. “It was a rather normal childhood for a boy born to be laird,” he replied easily.
“Were ye glad ye were to be laird someday?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said slowly. “I suppose I was glad of it. I idolized my da, ye see. I wanted to be just like him—fair and honest, revered, feared, and liked. I spent most my days trying to excel at whatever task my da set before me to do, so he would be proud. It burned within me to make him so. I believe it was like that for Bridgette, too.”
“Do ye?” Lena asked, wiggling into a position where she could see his face. His strong, handsome profile made her breath catch. “What makes ye believe that?”
“Oh, she had a habit of donning braies instead of her gowns, and going sneakily about to try to hunt, even as a wee lass. She hung on Da, and when other lasses were trying to get lads’ attentions, she was begging to learn to hunt and partake in battle.”
“Yer da encouraged her, then?” Lena asked, hopeful that he had so she could point out to Alex that his father had not been overprotective of Bridgette. Then maybe Alex would see he should not be overprotective of her.
“Certainly nae,” Alex said, giving her a look as if she were daft. “He told her as a wee lass that ’twas nae her place to go off to battle and hunt, and once Da passed and I became laird, I told her the same. But Bridgette was always stubborn, and ye kinnae tell her much.” Alex smiled. “Just ask Lachlan. I’m certain my sister gives him fits.”
“Aye, I’m certain she does, as well. But Bridgette lived through all she did because she kenned how to defend herself. And she kenned that because, after a time, ye allowed her to learn to do so.”
“Allowed her?” He scoffed. “By the time I realized what the sneaky lass was up to, she already kenned well how to defend herself and hunt.”
Lena ground her teeth. This conversation had not helped her in the least to get Alex to see her point, but it did give her insight into where his fiercely protective nature came from. She leaned forward and kissed him, to which he gave an appreciate growl. “I bet ye made yer da verra proud.” Uncertainty, unmistakable as the sky darkening when the sun went down, fell across his face and cast it in shadow. Lena frowned. “Alex? Did yer da nae ever tell ye he was proud of ye?”
“He did,” Alex replied, his tone gruff and his face, which had been open with their talk moments ago, closing off. “My da was nae one to hold back praise or advice.”
“What sort of advice did he give ye?” she asked, curious but also sensing there was something important his father might have said that Alex was not revealing.
Alex yawned and stood, and when he picked up her léine from the ground, disappointment and sadness settled over her. He was going to make her sleep in her bedchamber. Considering his previous violent dream, she knew it was wise, but it still made her sad. If only he would open up to her, mayhap his secrets would not haunt him in his sleep.
He turned toward her. “A man must be braw and a laird fearless. Whereas a man could have weakness, a laird could nae.”
“All men have weaknesses,” she said.
“Aye,” he agreed, crooking his finger at her as he dangled her léine from his fingers. She slowly rose off the bed and went to him. When she stood only a hairsbreadth from him, he said, “Which is why my da also told me nae ever to show my weaknesses. Hold them here—” Alex touched his head “—and here—” he touched his heart “—for none to ken but me.”
“Perchance,” she said, unable to restrain herself, “that is why ye have nightmares.”
His face darkened. “The hour grows late, and I grow weary. Ye must depart to yer bedchamber.”
“Alex,” she said, a desperate feeling rising in her chest. “If ye would but speak of what bothers ye—”
“Nay,” he snapped, cutting her off. His eyes shone with misery. “I kinnae. I’ve told ye.”
He had. He had told her, and she knew she was asking a great deal, but now that she realized just how fully he had captured her heart, she wanted his. She did not think she’d be happy with less.
“I’ll depart as ye asked,” she said, hearing the stiffness of her voice. “but I fear the separation ye place between us now will be as a thorn in my side.” She turned away, but he caught her arm and brought her to face him once more.
“Mo chailin chalma, I am sorry.”
He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she pushed it away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, which made her own gut twist, but perchance if he felt her pain, he’d try to open up and talk of what bothered him. “I dunnae need yer apologies. I need this,” she said, placing her hand on his heart. For now, it was the closest she could venture to telling him she loved him. His eyes widened, and she wondered if he knew, if he understood that he had her love.
His large, warm palm settled over her hand. “Ye have it, Lena. More than anyone ever has.”
“I’m greedy,” she admitted, mimicking his earlier claim. “For that does nae feel enough for me when I ken ye hold secrets there.” Knowing there was nothing more she could say to compel him to confide in her, pledge his love, or even acknowledge with any sort of gladness that he had her love, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then scurried from the room.
Sleep evaded her alone in her bedchamber. She tossed and turned, her mind awhirl with thoughts of Alex and the Steward; Marsaili, her betrayal, and her problem; and Greer and her brother. She gave her pillow a hard punch to try to get comfortable, deciding that she’d send Broch to deliver a message to Iain the next morning, explaining about Marsaili and soliciting his advice. She’d have to tell Alex in the next few days, too, in case Iain decided to come here to confront Marsaili himself.
Just as she started to drift to sleep, Alex’s tortured voice reached her. The curse words he let fly singed her ears. She scrambled out of bed, threw her plaid over her shoulders, and hurried to the door of his room. She hesitated to enter the bedchamber, but she feared for him. Inside his room, it sounded like a battle was raging. She took a sharp breath and cracked the door open.
He thrashed on his bed, arms pummeling the air in front of him, as he hurled insults. “Spawn of Satan! Ye make me sick. I will rip out yer heart and watch ye die.”
And as shocking as the gruesome affront was, the mottled rage that twisted Alex’s face shocked Lena more. The moonlight streamed in his window, so she could see his face perfectly. Suddenly, he grew still and quiet—all except his breathing, which came in pants. He jerked as if touched on the face or even the chest, then gagged as if he were retching.
Tears sprang to Lena’s eyes, and a dark, disturbing memory of the first time her husband had abused her and her reaction to it hit her. Dear God above! Had Alex been abused?
Bile rose in her throat, and she had to press a palm over her mouth not to retch herself. She breathed deeply in and out, watching him.
He was proud and fierce. If he’d been abused by someone, she could not see how it affected him when he was awake. Yet every person was different, and mayhap he maintained so much control, so much force of will to contain his feelings about the abuse during the day, that at night, when he was asleep and had no way to restrain his emotions, they came out torturing him again and again.
Tears streamed down her face at the horror of the possibility. Her own experience had almost killed her, and it likely would have robbed her of every bit of joy life still had to offer had she not had her sisters-in-laws to talk to and, ultimately, Alex to heal her.
“Ginny,” he whispered, a broken sob from his chest. “Ginny. Ginny. I’m sorry, lass.”
Lena heard her own sobs, unable to control them, feeling her husband’s torment, unsure of what she knew or how to help him.
He shot bolt upright suddenly, scrambled from the bed, and went straight to the wall. He began to pound his fists into it. Lena’s heart exploded as she gaped at him. She had to do something or he’d injure himself.
“Alex!” she hissed. When he did not stop beating his fists into the walls, she called his name louder. “Alex!”
He swung around, fists up, a murderous look upon his face. “Satan’s son,” he roared, eyes wide and unseeing as he stalked toward her.
“Alex!” she screamed, one last time in the hopes to wake him, but when she realized she had not, she turned to escape the room. He caught her by the shoulder and swung her around, his hand coming up, palm open, to slap her. Fear bolted through her, as she cried out his name again.
“Alex!” a voice roared from behind her as the door banged all the way open and Donald strode in. “Release Lena!” Donald demanded, but when he didn’t Donald reared back and punched Alex in the jaw. He released her to bring his hands to his face.
Lena cried out in dismay as Alex blinked, and when his eyes opened once more, shock and horror registered at once. He looked from Donald to Lena, and Donald said simply, “Another nightmare. They’re coming much more frequently now, Alex.”
“Alex,” Lena started. She stepped toward her husband but faltered as he gave her a hard, cold look.
His hand came up in a motion for her to stop. He pointed at the door, turned his face from hers, and said, “Leave me.” It was a command born of fear and shame, she knew, but it felt like a slap to her face.
Sucking in a sob, she nodded, departed the room, and cried herself to sleep.