When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (22 page)

Marion’s stomach pitched to the
ground at the implications. “How many times has the flag been waved?”

“Twice,” the seer answered in a low
whispery voice.

A chill raced down Marion’s spine.
Twice!
“The flag must never be waved again!” she said, eyes wide with panic. She
could not let him risk his clan for her.

“If the danger is great, then the
laird may decide the risk is worth taking.”

Marion’s heart stuttered. “If you
see Iain waving the flag in the future, does that mean there will be danger to
the clan?”

“The need will be of the one afore the
many.”

Bridgette was right. It was utterly
annoying the way the woman spoke in riddles. “Will the clan be in danger or
not?” Marion demanded, her breath coming out in a puff of white fog.

The seer slowly cocked her silver
eyebrows. “Aye,” she cackled. “And ye will be the cause of the danger that
comes to MacLeod land.”

Icy fear twisted inside of her, and
her heart was beating so fast she pressed a hand to her chest. “Me?” She
immediately thought of Froste and her father.

The seer nodded. “Do ye want to ken
anything else?”

Even with the cool temperature of
the air, sweat moistened her palms. She trembled as images of Iain in the midst
of a great battle with her father and Froste’s men flooded her mind. The seer
had said she only knew the future up to the point she’d touched you, and that
the future could change if you changed your actions. Marion swallowed. She was
too afraid to ask anything more about herself, but she had promised Bridgette
she would convey her question.

“Bridgette would like to know if her
brother will be safe if she journeys to the MacLeod lands with me.”

“Aye. For a time.”

Marion started to breathe out a
sigh of relief, but the seer squeezed her arm and Marion’s hair on the back of
her neck suddenly prickled. The woman’s deep eyes pierced her. “She’ll take the
danger with her, and the danger will become yers.”

Suddenly, the seer pulled her gaze
away from Marion and looked past her to Archibald. “Come,” she commanded
loudly. “Let me take yer hand.”

Marion turned to see what he’d say.

He shook his head. “Nay, old woman.
I dunnae wish to learn my future. Only God should ken that.”

In this moment, Marion rather
wished she hadn’t let the seer touch her, either. She found she suddenly,
desperately wanted to leave. She thrust the cloak at the woman. “I must return
to castle,” she said.

“Oh, aye,” the seer replied. “Ye
can leave, but that will nae change what I’ve told ye.”

“Hush yer trap,” Archibald snapped.
“Come, Marion.”

This time, Marion gladly followed
Archibald, and as they started back, she didn’t try to make conversation, lost
as she was in worry about what trouble she might cause Iain’s clan.

When Archibald cleared his throat,
Marion met his hooded gaze. “Ye asked me afore how I ken what Alex’s father did
to mine…”

Marion nodded.

“Alex told me. It took him until I
was fifteen to do so, but on my fifteenth birthday, his father died and Alex
told me the story. Do ye ken, up until then, I’d imagined my father must have
done something terrible since no one would speak of it? I thought perchance he
was a traitor or a coward, but Alex told me he was verra courageous and his
father had been tormented with guilt over what had happened.”

“You must have been very glad to
learn the truth,” Marion said quietly, seeing the pain etched on Archibald’s
face and hearing the catch in his voice.

He stopped and gave her an
incredulous stare. “Glad?” His hands were fisted at his sides, his knuckles
white. “I was nae glad. I was angry that no one had been courageous enough to
disobey the mighty laird’s command to nae speak of what happened. They all let
me believe my father was a bad man, that I should be ashamed.”

Marion reached toward him to give
him a reassuring pat on the arm, but he jerked away. She licked her lips, a
nervous feeling sprouting in her belly. “I’m sure they didn’t know that you
felt ashamed of your father. They were simply following the orders of their
laird.”

He said nothing for a long moment,
but he continued to walk. Finally, when she thought he was not going to speak
on the subject again, he said, “I’m sure ye’re right.”

To her, his words sounded false and
forced, but she didn’t comment. She simply quickened her pace toward the castle
and, hopefully, Iain.

Iain muttered to himself as he strode up the path
toward where he’d been told the seer lived. When he’d returned to Alex’s hold not
long before, Iain had been exhausted, but his anger at learning where Marion
had gone had woken him right up. He couldn’t believe Marion was as foolish as
to go back to the seer’s when she knew Froste’s men could be about. It didn’t
lessen his fury that she had taken Archibald to watch over her. It increased it
because Archibald should have known better. The man was too sure of himself to
think he was so invincible that he could take Marion from the safety of the
castle.

Iain stalked up the steep
embankment, aware that he needed to get control of himself before he saw Marion
and Archibald. He took a few deep breaths and regarded the rocky cliff. As he
was considering the best way to make his way up it, Marion and Archibald
crested the hill. Iain watched, his eyes narrowing, as they descended hand in
hand. Once they were on flat ground again, Archibald didn’t let go of Marion.
He faced her and said something that Iain couldn’t hear. But even if he’d been
standing right next to them, he doubted he’d have heard Archibald’s words over
the roar of his blood in his ears.

He would keep his calm. He repeated
the thought in his head as Marion and Archibald looked his way as one.
Archibald released Marion’s hand.

“Iain!” Marion cried out,
scrambling toward him so quickly she slid, arms flailing, the last few paces to
him. He caught her around the waist to stop her forward motion. She laughed as
she peered up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold and her eyes glistening.
“How was the hunt?” she asked, touching his cheek. Her hand was warm, and Iain
suspected it was because Archibald had been holding it. Iain moved her hand
away from his face, and unmistakable hurt filled her eyes. It normally would
have given him pause, but he was livid.

“Ye kinnae be so foolish as to
think it’s safe to visit the seer when there is a verra real danger of Froste’s
men lurking around here.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed.
“You said I was safe, and that Alex had increased his guard. And you also said
that by dawn a knight would not have a hope on MacLean land, so don’t look at
me as if you’re angry.”

He stared at his wife,
disbelieving. He had said all that, but he’d not meant she was so safe that she
could go running off, and especially not without him. She was safe with him,
not Archibald. “Ye misunderstood me.”

“So I’m not safe?” she demanded,
her eyes blazing.

Iain moved his gaze to Archibald.
“Ye are safe with me, Marion. Only me. And Archibald should ken that I’d feel that
way.”

“Why are ye so churlish?” Archibald
asked in a goading voice.

“Ye think me churlish?” Iain
challenged, his temples pulsing with ire. “This is mildly annoyed, but if ye
take my wife’s hand again, I’ll show ye just how churlish I can be. Ye ken?”

“Oh, I ken,” Archibald said with a
smile directed at Marion, not Iain, which only served to make Iain angrier.
“I’ll take my leave and let ye walk yer wife back in the
safety
of only
yer company.”

Iain nodded. “That seems a wise
choice.”

Archibald laughed and looked at
Marion again. “I’d say ye have the answer to yer question,” the man said before
turning and departing.

“What question?” Iain demanded.

Raw hurt glittered in her eyes as
she stared at him. “You’re jealous,” she said, her voice coming out as a choked
whisper.

For a moment, he was too surprised
by her accusation to offer a response.
Jealous?
Him?
The woman
was daft. “I dunnae get jealous.”

“I know,” she groaned.

Confusion pricked him, and he ran a
hand across his stubble. “You seem distraught by that.”

She pressed her lips together and
glared at him. “Your keen understanding fills me with wonder,” she muttered.

He narrowed his eyes. “If anyone
should be angry, Marion, it’s me.”

A flush colored her cheeks and her
eyes flamed brighter. “You wouldn’t be angry that I went to the seer with
Archibald if you trusted me!” she snapped.

He was about to deny it when it
struck him like a hard blow. She was partially correct. He would still be angry
because she put herself in danger, and Archibald assumed too much by thinking
he could protect Marion on his own, but her accusation was true in that he
was
jealous. He became jealous every time another man looked at her or dared to
touch her. It was irrational and unlike him, but it wasn’t her. It was him.

“It’s nae because I dunnae trust
ye,” he said.

Her eyes grew wide. “Then why?
Archibald told me you were never like this with Catriona.”

He stilled at the mention of
Catriona. Marion was right, he’d never gotten angry when a man looked at
Catriona overly long or touched her to aid her, and he would not have minded
Catriona asking any of his men to accompany her somewhere for her safety. But
he had known Catriona all his life and had trusted her fully. He did not yet
really know Marion. His gut tightened as he looked at her. He wanted to know
her. God help him, he did.

He sighed. “I dunnae trust myself;
therefore, I dunnae trust ye. So I suppose ye’re right. I’m sorry.”

He expected her to become angrier
at his words, but she stepped close to him and put her small hand on his arm.
“What do you mean you don’t trust yourself?”

“I dunnae want to get close to ye,”
he admitted.

Her jaw went slack even as her body
grew rigid. She removed her hand and started to step away from him, but he
grabbed her arm and held her still.

“Let me go,” she demanded, hurt
underlying her tone.

“I kinnae.” He swallowed hard. “I
dunnae want to let ye go. Even as I fight against getting close to ye, ye’re
pulling me toward ye. Don’t ye see?”

“I am?”

Her voice held a depth of hope that
he feared he would destroy with his own demons. But he’d not lie. “Ye are,” he
replied. “I need to think on some things.”

“How long do you need to think?” she
asked, making him laugh.

He circled his arm around her waist
and tugged her close until her soft breasts pressed up against his chest. When
he inhaled, her freesia scent filled his lungs. “I kinnae say for certain.” He
didn’t know if he could ever give her what he knew she wanted, but he wasn’t
going to say so and cause her undue pain. He was struck with a thought, though,
that he could not keep from her. “Do ye trust me fully?”

“I do,” she answered without
hesitation.

“But ye were jealous, so it must
mean ye dunnae trust me.”

She quirked her mouth. “Not at all.
I trust you. It’s those women who stare at you worshipfully that I don’t
trust.”

His chest expanded with happiness
at her honesty. “That’s good. A wife should trust her husband.”

She frowned at him. “What else is
the duty of a highland wife?”

“To love her husband,” he replied,
regretting the words the minute they flew from his mouth. Marion made him lose
his control in more ways than one, it seemed.

A wary shimmer came into her eyes,
and she shifted away from him as far as she could until he stopped her. “I’m
not about to love you until you show me you can love me,” she said, her voice
breaking.

“That’s understandable,” he
replied, “but I think ye’ll nae be able to stop yerself from loving me.” He
grinned at her.

He watched as she struggled not to
smile, and when her body defeated her will and a lovely smile settled on her
lips, his body stirred at the sight. She tossed her hair back as she stared up
at him. “You think you’re that enticing?” she asked playfully.

“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice
husky with the sudden burning need for her. “I’d hazard I’m so enticing that
ye’ll let me take ye now.”

A scandalous look crossed her face.
“In broad daylight? With
danger
lurking?” Her eyes twinkled as she toyed
with him. “I would not be so bold.”

He grinned as he slid his hand
around her waist but paused when he felt a dagger sheath. He was about to ask
her where she had gotten it but decided the question could wait. He brought his
hand to her breast and cupped the delectable flesh. “But I would, Marion. I’ve
been thinking of taking ye in broad daylight since the ride here. It was all I
could do nae to pull ye off my horse yesterday and bury myself in ye.”

“Oh my,” she murmured, her chest
rising with her inhalation. “You want me that much?”

“I do,” he readily admitted. “Do ye
ken what the motto of the MacLeod clan is?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to
say I don’t.”

He traced his hand from her breast
to her lips. “It’s
hold fast
, and I’ve held fast since yesterday to the
idea of being inside ye with the woods around us. I dunnae think I can wait any
longer.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s my duty
to please you,” she said huskily. “I’ve held fast to something, as well, Iain.”

“Have ye now?” he managed to choke
out, though his heart pounded so viciously that talking seemed almost
impossible.

She nodded as she slid her hand
between their pressed bodies and found his hard staff. He groaned as she
squeezed him. “I made a vow to myself to see if I could make you a simple
fool.” She stared boldly at him.

“Well, I’d nae be one to cause ye
to break a vow ye’ve made yerself,” he said, deftly unlacing her gown and
tugging at her bodice until her breasts spilled out.

She gasped as he took her in his
mouth and tortured her until she screamed her pleasure so loudly that he
covered her mouth in a kiss so the MacLeans wouldn’t come to investigate. But
not long after, when she took the length of him in her mouth and stroked him
until he was sure he’d never have a rational thought again, it was his guttural
cry that filled the woods without a care for anything beyond making the wildly
tempting woman in his arms as happy and sated as she was making him.

When they were spent and they lay
wrapped in his plaid, he caught sight of the dagger in its sheath, which lay
beside her gown. “Where did ye get the dagger?”

“Bridgette loaned it to me so I
could defend myself. As you know, I lost my other one. And I need it for my
safety,” she said with obvious defiance. But what did she think she was
rebelling against?

He cupped her cheek. “Do ye think
I’ll take it from ye?”

Her gaze shifted about before
settling on him once more. “You took mine from me before and told Rory Mac to
not return it.”

He scowled. “Only until ye did nae
want to use it on me.”

“Well, since it was never returned
to me, how was I to know if you would truly allow me to have my own weapons?
Angus had the dagger I lost in the water made for me.”

He frowned. “Why did Angus have a
dagger made for ye?”

“Because he’s the one who taught me
to use a dagger. My father would not have done such a thing with me. He would
not have done anything with me, really. Besides scold me and punish me.” The
last words had been whispered and she glanced down.

His chest tightened, and he hooked
a finger under her chin and brought her sad gaze to his once more. “What did
Angus teach ye of the dagger?”

“He taught me to aim straight and
throw true. I could show you,” she said shyly, “if you’d like.”

“I’d like it verra much,” he
assured her as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “And we
can go hunting together when we’re back at Dunvegan.”

“You’d take me hunting with you?”
Her eyes widened with surprise.

“Aye, it would be pleasing to take
ye. Though, I’ve never hunted with a woman.”

“Never? Not even—”

“Nay,” he interrupted, realizing it
was time to return to the castle. “Nae even Catriona. Let’s dress. We can talk
as we walk back to the hold.”

They dressed quickly, and as Iain
took Marion’s hand in his when they started walking, she peered at him. “I like
that there is something we will do together that you’ve never done with anyone.
It seems as though it’s just ours.”

He thought about it and couldn’t
see how it could be a betrayal of his vow not to forget Catriona. He smiled at
Marion. “I like it, too,” he replied with a squeeze of her hand. “And when we
get to Dunvegan, I’ll have a dagger and a bow and arrows made for ye.”

She sucked in a delighted breath.
“I always dreamed that my father would one day come upon me and see how
talented I was with a dagger and the bow, and then perchance he would be filled
with such pride that he’d not even be angry that Angus had taught me. And
then,” she gushed, her words quick as she was caught up in her memories, “he
would finally find me worthy of loving.”

Her admission of her dreams was
like a dagger plunging into his gut. He stopped walking and looked at her. “Ye
are worthy of loving.” He knew damn well his words would sound false to her,
given what he’d told her before, given his own struggles. “It is nae ye but yer
father who is nae worthy.”