The Highlander's Reward (12 page)

He took her mouth back in a hungry kiss and she met his tongue thrust for thrust
, feeding her own hunger. She instinctively spread her thighs wide, her knees bending upward to hug his hips. Blood pounded a hypnotic rhythm through her veins, making her shake, her knees tremble. She couldn’t believe this was happening and that she was enjoying every moment of it. Savoring it. Passion and need overwhelmed her.

Magnus swept his hands from each of her
ankles up her thighs, leaving shivers in his wake as he exposed her skin to the air, bunching her skirts up around her hips. He leaned up on his elbows, and gazed into her eyes.

His face was a storm cloud of desire and intensity.

“Are ye sure about this? I dinna think I can hold back much longer.”

In answer to his question she raised her hips. “I am sure.”

“Och, lass, ye are driving me to madness…”

Emboldened by his words, she trailed her fingers down his back and hooked her thumbs into his kilt, skimming the flesh of his waist.

Magnus hopped from the bed, leaving her cold, and she realized her womanhood was completely exposed. She closed her legs, and thrust down her skirts, but not before he’d seen her legs spread wide. His eyes darkened, and the look he gave her made her want to spread her thighs again, though she didn’t.

He undressed quickly, and she watched, unable to look away. She’d seen him nude before, but she’d been shy about it, not examined him. When he exposed his erection to her, thick and hard with need, she blanched. How was
that
going to fit inside her? ’Twould surely be like a tree being shoved into a rabbit hole.

She squeezed her thighs tightly together, a little apprehension setting in.

“Dinna be afeared, lass.” Magnus walked toward her, his erection coming closer and closer.

“I am not…afraid. I am discouraged.”

He frowned. “Discouraged?”

“I do not think we will fit together.”

He chuckled. “’Twill fit just fine, and I swear, ye’ll enjoy it, at least after…”

“After what?”

“I’m sure Glenda mentioned what will happen?” He lay down beside her, his hands distracting her as he raised her skirts once more up to her hips. His fingers brushed feather-like over her belly.

Arbella sucked in her breath, enjoying the delicious tendrils that wrapped around her belly and settled in her core.

“Aye.”

“Good,” he breathed against her ear as he leaned in to kiss the spot just below.

“Aye…” She was losing her train of thought again, only wanting to savor the moment.

He kissed her again, lingeringly, lazily. All of her defenses melted along with any remaining resistance. She threaded her fingers through his hair, leaning up to bring him closer and deepen their kiss.

Magnus growled low in his throat, massaging her breasts.

“’Tis time we undressed ye, wife,” he said in husky tones.

She nodded, sitting up. Magnus shook his head.

“Let me,
mo cridhe
.”

He slowly slid the gown
up over her waist, her breasts, taking the time to kiss her belly, her ribs. He slid the fabric over her head and along her arms, kissing each of her inner elbows. When that was done, he removed her chemise, tossing both items to the floor. He sat back on his heels, his gaze roving over her nude body. She shivered, partly from cold and partly from the way his eyes devoured her whole.

“Ye are even more beautiful than I imagined.”

A nervous smile covered her lips. “Thank you.”

“Nay, thank
ye.” Magnus trailed his fingers over her bared shoulders, down her chest, cupping each breast. He leaned forward and gently suckled her nipple, while laying her back against the bed.

He loomed over her, his size massive and powerful, his muscles flexing with
each movement. He smoothly parted her legs with his knee, settling his body between her thighs. She sucked in her breath at the jolt of pleasure the contact made, even better without their clothes separating them. Arbella spread her legs a little wider, liking how his hard member settled against the cleft of her thighs. She lifted her hips, trying to get a little closer.

“Och, lass, if ye keep that up, ‘twill
be over before it begins.”

Arbella grinned, happy to know she could have just as much effect on Magnus as he had on her. “I like it,” she answered.

“Oh, I like it, too,” he said, his voice strangled.

He reached his fingers between their bodies, and she bucked her hips as his thumb brushed over the sensitive nub at her core.

“Ye are so wet already,” he murmured, his finger sliding inside her.

Arbella’s head rolled from side to side. She’d not thought the pleasure could be more than what it already was.
She’d been wrong…so wrong. And Glenda was wrong too. Her entire body felt alive with heady, enchanting pleasure. She was drowning in it. A delicious pressure built within her, radiating from her core and down her thighs. She spread her legs wider, rocked her hips in time with the strokes of Magnus’ fingers inside her, over her, around her, everywhere.

She gasped for breath, her heart beating so rapidly it might explode.

And then she felt as though she exploded as a downpour of fiery sensations burst within her center. She cried out, clutching onto Magnus’ shoulders as the waves took over.

“Arbella,” he growled against her ear before he kissed her savagely.

She kissed him back with as much intensity as she could muster, greedily accepting whatever pleasure he would give her. She felt him probe her core once more, only this time his invasion was not as pleasant. His thick shaft pressed against her, then he surged forward, breaking the barrier of her virginity. She cried out again, only this time in pain. He sank all the way inside her. Stretching her uncomfortably. She pushed against him, moved her hips in an effort to get away from him.

“Shh…lass.
Dinna move. ‘Twill only last a minute.”

She hoped it only lasted a minute a
nd that he would get off of her. Glenda had been right.

Before she could think more ill of her husband, he nibbled at her lips, whispered soft words of encouragement, talked of her beauty, of his desire for her. He kissed her neck, sucked at her earlobe and then laved at her nipples. The pain dissipated and once again she found herself writhing beneath him, his invasion
a bewildering welcome. Pressure once more began to build in her core.

“Is it better?” he asked.

“Much.” She opened her eyes to see him gazing down at her, his lips wet from their kiss, his eyes full of concern. She felt such a surge of emotion then it nearly brought her to tears. “Much,” she repeated.

He smiled slowly, a wicked grin. “How does this feel?” He slid slowly out of her and pushed gently back inside.

Decadent sensations reverberated from her center outward. “Oh, my,” she breathed.

Magnus gave an arrogant chuckle. “Indeed.”

He took her mouth again, his tongue snaking inside to duel with hers, thrusting just as his body did to her. Arbella wrapped her legs up around his hips, finding he sank deeper and her own feelings of pleasure intensified.

That same ecstasy that had built before renewed. Her eyes widened, her nails found anchor in Magnus’ shoulders and she arched her back, as he thrust again and again. She cried out once more in release, only this time the sensations were strengthened by Magnus’ erotic moans and quickened pace of his pumping hips. He too cried out, his head thrown back as he drove briskly inside her. He shuddered above her, between her
thighs. When his climax subsided, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing as rapid and just as jagged as her own.

“Ye are now officially my wife. No one can take
ye from me,” he said, kissing her with possessive passion.

Chapter
Twelve

The following morning, Arbella woke up, stretching like a lazy cat. She had surprisingly stayed quite warm during the night, sleeping in Magnus’ arms. She was still warm, and a little sore. They’d made love two more times during the night, each time better than the first.

She’d woken briefly when Magnus rose, but it’d still been dark, and she was so exhausted she didn’t even remember falling back asleep. The clan would no doubt think her a lazy wench. She did not want them to think that. Today she would start officially as the
Lady of Dunrobin. She would prove to the clan she was useful, and a good mistress.

Regretfully, she climbed from
the bed to find a fresh gown laid out for her on one of the chairs, a fresh basin of water on the table. Splashing the water on her face, she was pleasantly surprised to find it was scented with roses. She finished cleaning herself up, brushed out her hair, braided it, then dressed. Her vision caught on the sheets. The center was tinged with a few smears of blood. Not as much as what Magnus had done to the sheets at the abbey. But it was evidence that she’d lost her maidenhead.

She was truly married now.

Not wanting the maids to see it, she stripped off the sheet and buried it inside Magnus’ chest. She would remove it later. Find a hearth where she could burn it.

As she was about to leave the room a timid knock sounded at the door. Arbella opened the door to find Lydia in the hallway.

“Good morn to ye, my lady. I see ye’ve dressed. I came up to see if ye were in need of me.”

Arbella smiled.
“My thanks, Lydia. I am indeed in need of your help. Could you take me to the kitchens?”

“Are ye not going to break your fast? The laird has seen that a suitable breakfast was made for
ye. ’Tis to be served whenever ye are ready.”

Not wanting to disappoint her husband who’d gone to the trouble to see to her needs, Arbella acquiesced to being led to the great hall to eat.

“When I finish, I would like you to show me the various rooms in this keep and the gardens. I should like to get to know my new home and the clan.”

Lydia agreed.

When Arbella sat down at the table, her stomach growled loudly, and she was pleasantly surprised to find a pear pastry along with a warm glass of milk waiting for her. She smiled as she stared down at the scrumptious breakfast. Magnus truly did have her best interests at heart. She greedily devoured the delicious pastry, licking the juicy, sugary stickiness from her fingers. She finished by gulping down the milk. If she wasn’t careful, she might end up rounder than a pear.

“I see ye approve of my choice of breakfast.”
Magnus walked into the great hall, a confident smile curving his lips.

Arbella
enjoyed watching him walk. He swaggered toward her, sensuality in every move. Her heartbeat quickened and her stomach flipped. Flashes of what they’d done the night before played in her mind and she felt her cheeks heat.

“I enjoyed it very
much.”

Magnus bent down and kissed her hard. She was taken ab
ack by his show of affection, but then when his tongue touched hers, she no longer cared, only wanted to kiss him back.

“Ye had a bit of sugar on your lips, I thought I’d help,” he teased as he pulled back.

“Thank you, husband.”

“My pleasure.”
He gazed at her as if he too remembered everything that happened the night before.

Arbella clenched her thighs tight and bit her lip. She felt bare in front of him. Which only made her wonder what it would be like if he laid her on the table and…

“I have to work with my men today and answer a few missives that came while I was away. Will ye be all right?”

“Aye.
Lydia is going to show me about the castle.”

“Good.” He pressed another kiss to her lips. “I shall see
ye at the nooning then.”

Arbella couldn’t help but smile whimsically, before catching herself. She was acting like a fawning girl. But she couldn’t help it. Magnus made her feel things inside she’d never dreamed of
experiencing.

She couldn’t wait until the nooning.

And that, she realized, was a big problem. Just yesterday, she’d been planning on leaving the man. She’d not sent word home regarding her father, and she’d yet to hear anything from Magnus concerning the matter. She frowned. The man had bewitched her. ’Twas not good. She could not forget about her family. What would happen to Aliah if their father had been killed?

She shuddered to think of anything down that road.

Arbella stood and went in search of her husband. She needed answers. She exited the great hall doors and descended the stairs into the inner bailey. Clansmen went about their daily duties, but her husband was not in sight.

Where would he be working with his men?

She put her hand to her forehead to block the sun and looked up at the tower walls. They were well guarded, but the gate doors were open. Perhaps he worked with his men in the field. She was headed in that direction when someone stopped her.

“My lady, can I help
ye?”

She turned to find Keith’s woman rushing toward her.

Arbella took a step back, surprised by the woman’s haste.

The Scotswoman held up her hands shaking them in a gesture meant to discourage Arbella from thinking she meant her harm. “My lady, I
see ye headed towards the gate. ’Tis dangerous out there.”

Arbella tilted her head. “I was looking for the laird.”
Obviously, Keith’s wife was afraid she’d get lost or hurt, maybe even killed, beyond the walls.

The woman nodded. “The men practice in the fields.”

“Thank you.” Arbella turned and headed toward the gate once more.

The woman skirted in front of her shaking her head.
“’Tis not a good idea, my lady. When the men are practicing, we stay inside, ’tis not safe.”

Arbella tapped her foot, getting slightly annoyed. “I do not plan to get stuck in the middle of thei
r sparring. I simply need a word with him. What is your name?”

“Ula, my lady.”

“Ula, why are you trying to keep me from my husband?”

Ula’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “I would never, my lady.”

“Then stand aside.”

Ula bowed her head and stepped to the side. She mumbled something and then hurried away.

Arbella rolled her eyes. Did the woman think she was daft? She may like pretending to wield a sword but she would not intentionally put herself in harm’s way.

She hurried toward the gate and made it through only to feel herself flying backwards.

She fell flat on her bottom, bouncing hard on the ground. Wide-eyed she saw that a guard had rushed her and hurled her backward.

“How dare you!” she shouted, standing and brushing her skirts. She took a menacing step toward the guard only to see it was Gavin. “What is the meaning of this?”

“My lady, my apologies.” He bowed before her, a humorous sight for a man so large with knees bared.

“Explain yourself. Why is everyone trying to keep me from seeing the laird?” Her suspicions were duly raised.

“Come, I will show ye.”

Gavin
abruptly turned and headed toward one of the towers. Arbella had to take long strides to keep up with him. They entered the tower and she was surprised by how dark it was inside, only splinters of light showing from the arrow slits. They climbed the circular wooden stairs until her thighs burned and then went through a door, the sunlight momentarily blinding her.

She took a moment until her eyes adjusted. Two clansmen bowed their heads to her, and then put their eyes back on the landscape. Gavin motioned her over to the side of the battlements. The walls came up above her head, but only to her shoulders
at each crenellation. He pointed for her to look over the side.

For an instant she was dizzy at how high up they were,
then she saw the warriors. Her heart skipped a beat. She had nearly walked into a battle.

The men fought a battle—against each other. Arrows were flying, swords were clashing, pikes were being thrown, horses were charging. Her hand floated to her throat and she swallowed. She spotted Magnus in the center of it all, dominating the fight. Even if he seemed to conquer each of his conquests, his life was still in danger!

“What are they doing?” she asked, stunned by how weak her voice sounded. She was normally able to keep a stoic countenance.

“They are fighting, my lady.”

She turned an exasperated glare at Gavin. “Obviously. But why? This must stop!”

The warrior had the nerve to laugh at her.

“’Tis not funny! I order you to go and help your laird.”

Gavin only laughed harder. She seethed, was ready to rip the dagger Magnus gave her from her belt and whack him with it.

“My lady, I must once more issue my apologies. The men, ’tis only a mock battle. We do this often, keeps us on our toes.”

“What?” She turned a hurried gaze back toward the battle. Men stood on the sides, while others continued to fight.

“When a man is said to have been killed he must stand to the side. But ’tis every bit as dangerous as a battle. If ye’d walked out those gates, ye may have been hit with an arrow or a flying pike, or even trampled by a horse. The men are used to focusing on spots without people in them to shoot, and ye’d have just walked right into it.”

She nodded, still dumfounded by what she saw below and the fact that she could have just been killed. Ula had tried to warn her, but no one wanted to argue with the lady of the clan, especially if she ordered the woman to stand down. But she could have told her. Then again, would Arbella
have listened? Most likely not. She envisioned that she knew most things. If Ula had told her the men fought a mock battle she would have imagined the trainings she saw her father’s men do in England. “When will the men finish?”

“In about an hour.”

She would have to wait until then to speak with Magnus. But she would not wait longer than that. He would have to make time for her questions before he sought out his desk to reply to the missives he’d received while away.

Arbella descended the stairs of the tower feeling more like she did not belong here than before. They were so different
from her, fighting dangerous battles and not seeing anything wrong with it. She had a lot to learn.

Rather than waiting an hour in the bailey for Magnus to stroll in, she went in search of Lydia. At least she could begin learning what she needed to about the castle.

Lydia was waiting for her in the great hall.

“My lady, are ye well?” she looked concerned.

Arbella flicked her gaze around the great hall to see a few clanswomen staring at her from the sides of their eyes—Ula among them. Mortification dug deep, and her cheeks heated.

“I am fine. I would have you show me the castle and gardens.”

Lydia nodded and clucked her tongue to the women who continued sweeping the floors and wiping down surfaces.

“I will introduce
ye to Cook first. She’s eager to meet ye.”

Arbella warmed at the thought of someone keen to meet her. They walked out of the back of the keep through a small door and down a flight of stairs to an attached outbuilding. Inside it was warm. A huge stone heart
h sat on the far wall roasting chickens on spits. Large cauldrons boiled and popped. Bread and pies sat on stones baking.

Several women chopped vegetables and some kneaded more dough. They all looked bedraggled, but happy. In fact they were singing a melody in Gaelic.
As soon as they spotted her, they stopped singing, and starting wiping their hands on their aprons.

“My lady,” an older woman said rushing forward to curtsey. “I am Agn
es, the cook.”

“Pleased to meet you, Agn
es. Thank you so much for the delicious pear pastry this morning, it was heavenly.”

The woman nodded and looked her up and down.
“Ye dinna look at all like a waif. Quite a few curves on ye.”