Highland Moonlight (16 page)

not me you have not seen that should distress you, Nessa.”

“And who would it be then, Alexander?” She flipped a cloud of dark hair

over her shoulder and turned a perfect profile to him in spirited arrogance.

He raised a mocking auburn brow. “Duncan is doing his duty on the

dance floor.”

“Duncan is always doing his duty.” She rested her hands on her hips

in challenge.

“Aye,” He agreed in a solemn tone. “It grows tiresome even for us at

times.”

She stared at him her expression reflecting surprise until he smiled. “I

did not appreciate an arrow in the leg for retrieving sheep.”

Nessa laughed. “Father spoke of what happened. The wound is

healing well, I hope.”

“Aye.”

Her eyes dropped to the area of his kilt where the heavy binding

around his thigh bulged. “‘Twas lucky the arrow did not go any further

astray,” she commented, her eyes dancing with merriment.

He laughed aloud. His eyes followed Mary’s progress as she hurried

toward them through the crowd. Would she one day feel the same? Her

steps slowed as she noticed Nessa.

Alexander stood. “Come Mary and meet my cousin, Nessa,” he said

as he motioned to her to join them. “‘Tis difficult to explain, but Nessa is a

cousin, though distant kin. She is Ian Campbell’s youngest daughter.”

Mary nodded her understanding. “‘Tis pleased I am to meet you,

Nessa.”

“And I you, Lady Mary. ‘Tis a great inconvenience for Alexander to be

injured so soon after you have wed. I am sure it has not been pleasant

caring for a wolf with a sore paw.”

A rare smile of amusement played about Mary’s features, and he

drank in the sight as her gaze wandered to him.

“He has tried to behave tamely, though I have seen him snap his teeth

in frustration at the inactivity forced upon him.”

“Aye, he would. If he does not have a sword in his hand, he is not

happy,” Nessa agreed.

“Of late I have been eager to spend my time seeking some peace,

cousin. I will be content to continue to do that, if others will allow it.”

Nessa’s brows rose, her surprise evident. “‘Twould please more than

a few lasses of our clan for their husbands to follow your lead, Alexander,”

she said earnestly. “I’d wager ‘twould take a miracle from God to work such

a change though.”

“Aye, for some,” he agreed. “And it will not come easily. Change never

comes with easy grace.”

“Nay, it does not,” Nessa agreed, her features grim. “Especially when

men have a part in it.”

The trace of bitterness in Nessa’s tone made Alexander frown. Was

the lass’s patience with Duncan finally at an end?

Nessa’s chin rose and her gaze swung toward the other end of the

hall. “I must greet your father, Alexander.”

“Aye, he will be pleased you are here.”

“If ‘tis peace you wish, ‘tis also my wish for you Alexander, and you

Lady Mary.” Nessa excused herself.

Alexander reached for one of the cloaks Mary held and draped it over

her shoulders then donned his own.

“She is more than a distant cousin.” Mary stated as they went out into

the cold night air. They walked deeper into the courtyard.

“Aye. It has been suggested a betrothal could be possible between

Nessa and Duncan.”

Her silence stretched for a long moment. “‘Twould be difficult to be

bound to a man who enjoys other lasses so very much.”

She had gone to the heart of the matter between his brother and

Nessa with unerring directness.

“I have enjoyed the lasses as well as he,” Alexander stated

deliberately and felt Mary’s hand tightened around his arm. “The difference

is I have not bragged about it.” He stopped beneath the boughs of a large

oak where a wooden bench was set against the outside wall of the fortress.

He drew Mary down on it and leaned against the stone wall behind him to

stretch out his leg. The injury didn’t pain him so much now, but his leg had

grown stiff from disuse.

“‘Tis a need like any other, Mary.” He wished he could see her

expression. “Why do you not wish to dance?” he asked when she remained

silent.

“‘Tis because of the bairn.”

“‘Tis not because it reminds you of that night?”

Mary drew the hood of her cloak over her head covering the pale gleam

of her hair. He experienced the disturbing feeling he talked with a shadow. It

was not the first time he had felt that way since they had been wed.

“Why do you blame yourself for what happened that night?”

She remained so still for such a lengthy time he began to wonder if

she had slipped away into the night. He placed an arm around her to insure

she didn’t.

“The priest said I tempted you,” she admitted softly.

The thought of the clergyman’s judgmental posturing when faced with

the grief of a frightened, hurt young lass had anger clenching in his gut. “He

does not know what he is about.”

“He is a man of the cloth, Alexander.”

“Which does not excuse him from being a fool,” he said, his voice

harsh with feeling. He tugged the hood of her cloak down and ran his

fingers through the heavy weight of her hair. “If you tempted me, ‘twas with

your spirit and your innocence. ‘Twas not through any deed.”

Her hair clung to his fingers like heavy silk and smelled of soap and

sunshine. He breathed in the scent. “Will you tell me one thing I did, if you

can, that brought you pleasure.”

Her silence stretched for a lengthy time. He felt the heat of her blush

as he caressed the curve of her cheek.

“‘Tis not proper to speak of such things, Alexander.”

He wanted to laugh aloud. So, there had been something, something

intimate, she found too embarrassing to speak about. “How else is a wife to

get what she wants if she does not demand it?”

“Men seldom agree to anything unless it serves their own purposes,

my lord,” Mary said with spirit.

“My only purpose is to serve you, dear wife.”

“When it pleases you.”

“Aye, ‘twould please me very much to serve you as a husband, Mary.”

He felt her catch her breath and smiled again.

She had begun to accept his touch with less distrust in the last week.

She was growing to enjoy these moments of sharing between them, he

was certain. “I would serve you with a kiss if ‘twould please you,” he

suggested and waited for any resistance as he raised her face to him. He

felt the conflict in her as his lips found hers. Her lips remained passive

beneath his—at first uncertain—but he persisted, and after a moment, her

lips grew soft and pliant. He tasted the contours of her lips with the tip of his

tongue, and they parted to accept him. Her tongue moved shyly to meet his

in a response new and tempting.

He wanted to groan aloud in frustration, his desire for her a burning

heat in the pit of his belly. His lips left hers to explore the safer territory of her

ear. She shivered and he breathed in the womanly scent of her.

His hand trailed down the slender column of her throat. He longed to

cup the tender weight of her breast, and barely stopped himself from doing

so. To always have her within reach yet be unable to touch, kiss, or caress

her was torture.

His hand cupped her cheek, and his lips found hers once again for

one last lingering kiss before they had to return to the hall.

Mary’s hand came to rest against his chest as she leaned against

him, her breathing as affected as his.

He drew her to her feet for it was safer to rise and walk than to sit and

feel her soft curves so close against him and not continue to touch and

caress her. He had to progress slowly with her, but God’s Blood it was

difficult!

Duncan stepped from the side entrance as they reached the door.

“Father asked that you and Mary come to the hall.” Alexander took her cloak

from her and removed his own as they passed through the crowd. At one of

the fireplaces, surrounded by clansmen, John waited for them. The heads

of all the clan families stood with him.

Mary looked small and fragile in the midst of all the men. Alexander

stepped closer to her side in a protective gesture, drawing his father’s

attention. A smile flashed across his father’s face.

Agatha stepped in to take their cloaks as his father raised a hand to

silence the merriment around them. The room quietened in a ripple starting

with those closest and moving along the walls of the room.

“We have all come together to celebrate the marriage of my oldest

son, Alexander, and to welcome into our clan my new daughter, Mary.”

John’s voice carried easily around the large room. “But we are here for

more than that alone.” He paused, his eyes moving around the room. “Mary

embraces our clan as her own and wishes to take an oath of fealty to me

and our clan. You are here to witness that oath.” He drew Mary forward.

Duncan appeared at his father’s side with a Bible and held it while John

guided her hand on it and placed his hand over hers.

“Repeat these words Mary Campbell.”

Pride swelled within him as she repeated the oath without faltering,

her eyes focused intent and sincere on his father’s face. The memory of

their wedding day intruded. Her voice had trembled, as had the rest of her

as she spoke her vows. She had not looked at him once throughout the

ceremony and she had been stiff when he kissed her to seal the vows.

But she had not been so when he had kissed her this night.

Mary sat on a chair before the fire, and ran the brush in long even

strokes through the heavy mass of pale gold hair hanging over her

shoulder. Aware of Alexander’s attention, her stomach fluttered with nerves

as she braided the thick strands into a tail then secured it with a scrap of

yellow ribbon.

Her thoughts dwelt on the kiss they had shared in the garden. Just the

memory of it made her feel weak and breathless. The tingling between her

thighs brought heat to her cheeks. Surely, it was sinful to feel this way.

“Your grandmother has spoken about coming to
Caisteal Sith
for the

bairn’s birth,” she said turning on the chair to face him.

“So has half the clan here. I fear we may not have a bed for you to lie

on to give birth nor a crumb of bread to eat afterwards.” Alexander said from

the bed.

She chuckled at his jest and tossed the braid over her shoulder.

“I had not seen my father dance in some years,” He bent the knee of

his injured leg beneath the covers and adjusted the pillow at his back

against the heavy headboard of the bed.

A smile tilted her lips. “He did not wish to dance, but felt ‘twould insult

me if he did not offer the invitation.” She rose and laid the brush on the

table.

“‘Twas clever of you to choose a tune that was not too demanding.”

“‘Twas not for him I did so, Alexander, but myself.” Her eyes wanted to

linger on his broad muscular chest and the red-cast hair covering it in

swirls. Of late, she had longed to run her hand over that thick pelt.

He drew down the layered animal skins beside him before she could

do so for herself. “You are not ill so often as before.”

“Nay, thank God!”

The dim light of the candles flickered and cast uncertain patches of

light across the bed. Mary watched the flames’ fleeting dance as she curled

on her side next to Alexander. Music muted by the thickness of the castle

walls remained discernable, though she could not distinguish the tune.

“Come closer so we might share each others warmth, Mary,” he

suggested.

She wiggled closer until her bent knees almost touched his thigh. She

jumped when he rested his hand on her leg. His touch burnt through the

thin fabric of her shift.

“Will you never put your trust in me again?” he asked, his voice quiet,

his expression serious in the dim light.

“Trust does not come easily to me anymore,” she admitted.

“I could not behave the husband, injured as I am.”

“‘Tis your leg that is hurt. There is nothing wrong with the rest of you,”

she replied in a wry tone.

His smile flashed forth showing off to perfection the deep creases in

his cheeks she found so appealing. “I would have to have your help in order

to consummate the deed. ‘Tis still painful for me to move.”

His claims sounded reasonable. Sliding closer, she lessened the

distance between them and straightened her legs.

“Will you not rest your head on my shoulder, Mary, and let me hold

you?”

She shifted closer and did as he wanted. His skin felt cool to the

touch. Mary drew the layered bedclothes up to insure his warmth, though it

was she who shivered.

He held her carefully for several moments, and her anxiety eased. She

wondered how she could want this and be afraid of it at the same time.

“‘Tis a cold bed we have lain upon these weeks past, Mary.”