Highland Moonlight (11 page)

“All will be well, Mary.” He sounded out of breath though his tone was

reassuring.

She clung to him, fearful and trembling for some moments.

“You are not in pain?” He rested his hand over hers, cradling the

fragile evidence of the life she carried.

“Nay.” Her voice, swallowed up by reaction, sounded breathy and

weak.

“Or here?” He touched the curve of her lower back.

“Nay.”

“‘That is good.” He gave her back a soothing rub.

“How do you know?” she asked. Desperate to accept his reassurance,

her eyes sought his face.

“That is where it brings pain to a woman when she labors.”

“How would you know such things?”

His smile was reassuring, though she read concern in his frown. “I’ve

been there when my men’s wives were laboring to have their children. I’ve

even birthed one of the babes when the midwife did not arrive in time.”

He touched her cheek in a gentle caress. “Do you wish to rise from the

floor?

“Aye,” she nodded, calmed by his manner. Her legs felt weak as he

guided her to the bed. His nearness was comforting as he sat beside her

and held her against him. Her trembling eventually ceased and the cold

feeling of fear receded.

“You must rest.”

Mary nodded in agreement though, for once, she was reluctant for him

to move away. She curled on her side and he drew one of the pelts over her.

Alexander settled on the edge of the bed beside her. She found his touch

warm and reassuring as he held her hand in his. He tucked a wayward

strand of hair behind her ear.

“You are sure you feel no pain?”

“My arm.”

He turned her arm to view the bruise already forming on her elbow.

“Twill be black by morn.” He frowned.

She grimaced as she touched her hip gingerly. “Aye, there’ll be one

here as well.”

“You will not let me see that one.”

Mary studied his face intently. Following her earlier thoughts, the

concern she read in his face, the gentleness of his touch confounded her. It

was difficult, no impossible, to reconcile the man who had turned against

her that night, with the one to whom she was now wed. Of course, it was the

bairn that concerned him, she told herself. After all, the child would be his

heir.

But just once, she wished she could be certain she too, was included

in his concern.

Alexander surprised her further by remaining close throughout the

remainder of the afternoon. When she retired early after the evening meal,

he soon joined her. She found his attentiveness both comforting and

disturbing. When he pressed close to hold her in bed, she could not bring

herself to turn him aside.

“Cora said you must rest for the next three or four days,” he said. “She

will stay with you in my stead tomorrow whilst I am away. You must tell her

should you have any pain.”

She nodded.

His hand found hers and he wove his fingers through hers. “All will be

well, Mary.”

And if it was not? If they lost the bairn, what then would they have

together? The emptiness stretched like a long lonely chasm between them,

more painful to her than her distrust of her husband. It was not his duty

alone to find peace between them, but hers as well. But how was she to set

aside her fears to do it?

“Are you warm enough, Mary?” David asked.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him. “Aye.” She drew the fur-

lined hood of the cloak up over her head to protect her ears from the wind

and looked out over the loch. The blue of the water appeared almost purple

in spots from so high up. Brownish hills, dusted with snow rolled away into

the distance. Being atop the battlements gave her a sense of freedom she

had not experienced since leaving her MacPherson kin.

“Which direction is it to MacMillan lands?” she asked.

“South.” He raised a hand to point.

She focused her attention in that direction, her eyes following the

contours of the land.

“Alexander has told us of your sister. He said she is almost identical to

you.”

“Aye, ‘tis true.”

“You have never been apart from her?” David leaned against the stone

battlements and looked out over the loch as she did.

“Nay, not until four months ago.”

His dark brows drew together above a straight narrow nose. His

features were more refined than his brother’s, though no less appealing.

“Mayhap she will come to be with you when the bairn arrives.” He

turned somber gray eyes to her.

Grief rose up to smite her, bringing with it an almost physical pain.

That would never happen. Anne’s loyalty belonged with her husband now.

The past could not be changed.

Her homesickness for her MacPherson kin had been nothing

compared to this. In a castle filled with her husband’s family and clansmen,

she carried an empty ache of loneliness beneath her ribs that never eased.

She changed the subject. “Where do Alexander’s lands lie?”

“North, then west. ‘Tis only a two day ride from here.” He folded his

arms atop the stone wall. “Has he said when you’ll be leaving?”

“After the feast your father has arranged. He wishes to arrive home

before the weather grows worse.”

“‘Tis wise. ‘Twill snow soon, and the passage will be more difficult.

You must have a care for yourself and stay warm, Mary.”

“‘Twill be easier to do that now with such a fine cloak. Your father’s gift

was very generous.”

David grinned. “I must tell you ‘twas Alexander who had it made—and

the gowns.”

“Aye, I know.” She rested her cheek against the cold stone block as

she looked below to the group of men on the dock. She did not understand

why her husband could not give her the gifts himself. Did he think she

would not accept them from him?

Hearing a step behind them, she turned to see Duncan clearing the

top of the ladder.

“Alexander will not be pleased you are up here, Mary. He has been

looking for you downstairs.”

“Nay, I am not pleased.”

Her husband’s voice had her stomach plummeting. He frowned so oft

these days and was nothing like the man who had laughed and smiled with

her at Lochlan when first they had met.

“What are you doing up here?”

His clipped tone sounded harsh. She had come at David’s invitation,

but she would not cause a problem between brothers by admitting to it. “I

but wished to view the land around me, Alexander.”

“You may do that from the ground, not the battlements of the castle.”

His masculine features set in lines of displeasure as he held out his hand

to her. “Come, I will help you climb down.” His stern manner brooked no

disobedience.

Mary raised her chin. She would not allow him to cow her before the

other men. “I climbed up without assistance, Alexander. For certes I can

climb down the same way.”

His gaze settled on her face steady and intent. “We will go down

together.”

Conscious of her new brothers watching the exchange between them,

she could find no merit in refusing. If she persisted, it would only

embarrass her further.

With his large frame close behind, his arms on either side, they

climbed down together. Surrounded by his strength, his chest firm against

her shoulder blades, his thighs cupped beneath hers, feelings of

awareness trickled down her slight frame to tempt her. Her breathing grew

short and choppy.

“‘Tis dangerous, Mary. I do not want you upon anything taller than the

bench you sit upon to sup.” His breath, warm and moist against her ear,

sent shivers down her spine.

Her feet settling on solid ground, she turned and brushed up against

his solid length when he did not step back as she expected. Weakness

assaulted her limbs, and her hands came up to rest against his chest as

she leaned back against the ladder to put some space between them. Her

eyes leaped to his face.

“You are pale, Mary. Is all well with you?”

“Aye, all is well, Alexander.” The heavy beat of her heart robbed her of

breath making her voice sound breathy and weak. “You must trust that I will

not do anything to harm the bairn.”

“‘Tis not only the bairn I am concerned with, but you as well.” He

tucked a stray curl within her hood.

“Will you not kiss the lass and be done with it so the rest of us may

come down, Alexander?” Duncan called from above.

Annoyance flared in Alexander’s expression as he looked up at his two

brothers, standing above them on the ladder.

Her cheeks grew hot as his gaze dropped to her. Her eyes fastening

on the broad expanse of leather-covered chest before her, she prayed he

would not humiliate her in such a way. She did not want to be kissed

because her husband had to be goaded into it by a jest.

A scowl dark with impatience crossed his face. “When I kiss my wife,

Duncan, ‘twill be for our pleasure, not for yours.” He tucked her hand within

the bend of his arm to escort her down the tower steps.

He stood back to allow her to precede him as he swung open the door

to their chamber.

“Duncan and I have been netting salmon for the feast,” he said as he

shed his boots and stockings then moved to the basin and pitcher of water

on a table.

Mary perched on the edge of the bed and drew the long braid of blonde

hair over her shoulder.

He pulled his shirt over his head and flung it over a chair. “Come wash

my back, wife.”

She studied his expression as he held out the cloth to her. She had

thus far avoided the room when he bathed, she could not avoid it any

longer. Her mouth went dry as she looked at him. She tried not to allow her

uncertainty to show as she stepped close, but could not control the wave of

color that heated her cheeks.

His tawny eyes studied her. “Did you not help with the visitor’s baths at

your uncle’s house, Mary?”

“Nay. Aunt Agnes said men were not trustworthy when they were not

properly clothed.”

“I must agree with your aunt. It pleases me to know you have not done

this for anyone, but me.” He bent his head, exposing the nape of his neck

as she ran the cloth across the width of his shoulders. Her eyes traced the

shape of him as his back tapered downward to his hips. The more heavily

muscled areas across the ridge of his shoulders and beneath the flat slope

of his shoulder blades bulged as he moved his arms. Growing aware of the

strength and size of him in a way she never had before, her hands trembled

as she touched him. What would it be like to rub her cheek against the

smooth skin of his back and put her arms around him? They were wed, and

she had never embraced her husband. Would she ever feel free to do so?

Turning, he took the cloth from her hand and drew her close against

him. “Your touch is gentle, wife. Mayhap I should ask you to serve me at all

my baths.”

The idea seemed both exciting and terrifying. “You are not a child who

needs help with your baths, Alexander.” She avoided his gaze for fear of

what he might read in her expression.

“Nay, I am not a child, but I should like you to touch me and learn you

need not be afraid that I’m going to turn on you and do you harm.”

She focused her attention on the russet colored hair that blanketed his

chest then disappeared in a thin line beneath his trews.

His fingers smoothed her hair as his lips grazed her forehead. “I

would like very much to hold you in my arms while you sleep, Mary.”

“Is that not what you are doing when I wake each morn?”

“Aye, but ‘tis not because you want it,” he said, then sighed.

She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides for she knew

not what to do with them. With effort, she held her body stiff within the bend

of his arm. Reluctantly she admitted it was not fear of his intent that made

her so defensive, but fear of her own response to his gentleness. The

desire to give of herself made her feel vulnerable.

“What is it you would ask of me?” she asked, on a husky breath.

“If you truly want to raise the bairn within my clan and you are to stay

with me and my kin, I would ask you to think what ‘tis we are to have

together as man and wife. There’s more to marriage than being mother and

father to the bairns born from it.”

“What other things would you be meaning?” She tilted her head back

to look up at him.

“I’m speaking about moments like this one, Mary. Moments of sharing

between us, where we are not feuding agin one another.”

Fearful of acceding to the reason in his argument, she pulled away

from him and strode to the fireplace. A chill hung over the drafty room, for the

fire had nearly burnt itself out. She squatted and fed the blaze two long

slabs of peat from the wooden box beside the fireplace. “What did I do that

made you believe I was not chaste?”