Highland Moonlight (18 page)

turned her back to the light and lifted her hair over her shoulder.

Aware of his intent, Mary attempted to twist away.

“I must see, Mary.” Never before had he used such a tone, nor looked

at her with such fierceness. She suddenly knew what he looked like on the

battlefield with the blood lust riding him.

His fingers found the flat ridges where each lash had fallen laying

open her skin, ten of them, because Collin had not wanted to damage her

worth over much. Mary suddenly felt sick with shame and jerked away. She

sought the shadows to pull the shift up and cover herself.

“Mary—” He squeezed her shoulder. “I did not know he would punish

you in such a way.”

The regret she heard in his voice brought an ache to her throat. “What

did you expect that he would do?”

“I expected he would focus his rage upon me, not you.”

“You are speaking of a man who looks at his women folk as property

to barter, Alexander. You damaged my value. Had I not left that night, he

would have sold me to whomever he could, just to see your claim denied.”

For a moment, Bearach McDonald came to mind and a tremor worked its

way through her limbs. “Had it not been for the nuns, I might have died. I

was sick with fever for nearly a fortnight and ‘twas more than a month that

every breath I drew did not bring me pain.” She allowed him to draw her

close again. His hand stroked her back with soothing caresses as he

rested his chin atop her head.

****

Alexander’s ribs as he continued to hold her. After a time, Mary fell asleep.

But even with her head resting on his shoulder and her body pressed

against his side, he could not relax.

He had behaved dishonorably toward her and to himself, as well. He

had been so hungry for her. Seeing family, a future in her had made him too

eager and Collin MacLachlan had—He could no longer blame Collin for his

actions. Nor could he make excuses. He should have guarded her against

Bearach MacDonald, not forced the issue and taken her. He could have

taken her away from the castle, an action that would have caused some

uproar, but would have kept her safe, until they wed. He could have taken

her into his confidence that night instead of rushing to seal their connection.

Her pride had been ground into the dirt before his men and her

father’s. She had been brutally beaten, and atop it all, the priest had

drummed into her a sense of shame and responsibility for what had

happened. It was a miracle she would even allow him to touch her.

Her response to him earlier came to mind. Even though she had

allowed him to caress her so intimately, he had sensed her reservations.

She had been so innocently sensuous it had set him aflame. He had gone

too far too quickly. It would be better to ease her into their marriage bed a

little at a time and make her as hungry for him as he was for her.

His thought turned to Collin. Rage as hot as a smith’s forge flared

within him. If ever the MacLachlan chief came within striking distance, he

would pay for what he had done. It would not be clan to clan, but man to

man. The scars marring Mary’s back could not be erased, but Collin would

beg her forgiveness if he had to beat it out of him.

The group rode in single file along the narrow rutted path. Mary caught

a glimpse of Alexander and Duncan in the lead now and then when the

column curved along the trail. Alexander had placed her in the center of the

troop so she could more easily be protected should their company be

attacked.

They had traveled the distance of three leagues when snow began to

fall. It came down in large fat flakes that powdered the men’s fur robes and

bare heads. They looked like great hulking bears atop their horses’ backs.

Mary arranged the dark tartan shawl beneath her cloak to cover the

lower half of her face then drew the hood of her cloak over her head. The

leather gloves David had given her, as a parting gift, were fur lined and

protected her hands. She felt reasonably warm though the wind whipped

the flakes about in a wild dance and made visibility difficult.

When they stopped, she was stiff from the hours on horseback and

welcomed Alexander’s help as she dismounted.

“How do you fare, Mary?” he asked, his amber gaze running up and

down her bundled form.

“I am faring well, Alexander,” she replied at once from behind her

tartan mask.

“‘Tis good. Should your hands and feet become chilled you must send

Gabe to me at once. I do not fancy a wife without her fingers or toes.”

“The highland clime I am used to is colder than this. You forget I have

been raised farther north with my MacPherson kin.”

He guided her close to the meager fire Derek had started. The men

parted to make room for her and Alexander. Offered a ration of bread,

cheese, and meat by one of the men, she tucked into the food hungrily.

Noticing her husband’s attention, she paused to offer him a questioning

look.

“‘Tis better than the first journey we made together despite the

weather, eh lass,” he observed.

“Aye,” she agreed, remembering the long ride from Lochlan and how

sick she had been.

After the meal, Mary wandered behind some brush, away from the

men, to see to her personal needs. Stepping from the yew bush’s cover,

she found Alexander leaning back beneath the sheltering boughs of a large

hemlock a short distance away.

He grasped her wrist and drew her between his feet to rest against

him. She found herself enveloped in the warmth beneath his robes as he

folded them around her.

“You look chilled, lass.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “‘Twould suit me to wear trews as you have.”

“Then you would be lowering them instead of raising them.”

She shivered then snuggled closer to the heat he exuded. The call of

nature had forced her to readjust the layers of clothing she wore and

exposed her most tender spots to the icy air.

“Would you have me rub some warmth into the parts that have grown

cold?” Alexander asked, laughter in his tone.

Mary poked him in the ribs in warning, but was at once reminded of

how his hands had felt on her bare skin.

Her head finding a place within the hollow of his shoulder, she rested

against him more heavily and slipped her arms around his waist.

“Have you finally found a use for your husband, lass?” he teased

huskily.

“Aye.” Mary tilted her head back to look up at him. “To keep my feet

warm at night,” she retorted.

“And what about the rest of you?” he asked, his gaze intent.

She pressed close again, cutting off his view of her hot face. His

fingers cupped her head.

“That too,” she finally admitted.

Alexander gave her a gentle squeeze and murmured, “Stubborn.”

That he was trying to make amends for what he had done was plain.

Though his eyes often rested on her in the evenings, he had not tried to

press her into intimacy again, but seemed content to hold her within their

marriage bed.

He had become curious about her family. The darkness made it

easier to talk about the MacPherson kin she had lived with, before Collin

had betrothed her. Sharing such knowledge with him made her feel

vulnerable, yet she could not withhold things from him, he was her

husband. Each time she did so, she felt guilty.

She drew back to look up at him. “How much longer before we reach

your land?”

He turned her to walk back to the company of men. “Tomorrow, by

midday.”

“I am anxious to see my new home.”

“The castle is not finished yet, but our chambers will be secure.”

She smiled. “‘Twill be no worse than sleeping on a cold stone floor

upon a reed pallet.”

“Nay, lass. We’ll share a bed bigger than the one at Lorne.”

The snow fell more heavily as the afternoon wore on. Mary was chilled

by the time they stopped for the night. They sought shelter against a stone

outcropping at the base of one of the hills that hugged the loch. The natural

depression folded around the group, blocking off the worst of the wind and

snow.

She watched with interest as the men broke into groups to organize

the camp without an order being spoken. The horses were loosed to be fed

grain close by, while some of the men gathered wood for a fire. Duncan

unwrapped peat from the packhorses to feed the blaze while Alexander

hung one of the water bags on a low-lying branch for all to use. The rest of

the bags remained on the horse carrying them allowing their body heat to

keep the liquid from freezing.

Two of the men passed bread, meat, and cheese around. The cold

kept the group from socializing for very long after the meal. Alexander

posted the watch. The rest of the company retired to wrap themselves in the

thick animal skin robes to keep warm.

Using a saddle for a pillow, Alexander folded his robes around her

and drew a thick pelt up over their heads to seal out the cold. “I do not like

being unable to feel you against me, Mary,” he grumbled after a moments

silence.

“‘Twould be too cold if you could,” she replied.

He opened his robes and drew her within the folds of wool and fur. He

wedged his knee between her thighs and hugged her close against him.

Mary turned her hot cheek against the coolness of the saddle. His

thigh pressed against her intimately through the layers of their clothing

sparking a sensation of pleasure she found wickedly tempting.

“How does your leg fare?” she asked.

“‘Tis stiff, but will do,” he answered. “How fares the bairn?”

“I have not felt him move today. ‘Tis a comfort when he does.”

“Do not fret, lass. You are young and hearty and the bairn will be

strong.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She wiggled around until her back rested against his chest and drew

his arm around her waist.

****

legs beneath hers. He breathed in the soft scent of soap and flowers

lingering in her hair. He found her innocence a torment for she had no idea

what she did to him as she wiggled back against him. Visions of how many

ways their bodies might fit together ran through his mind to make his

discomfort worse. He speculated for every time he wanted her, and did not

have her, he perhaps paid atonement for what he had done. As his need

gnawed and burnt deep within the pit of his belly, he wondered if the end of

his penance was anywhere in sight.

****

while the weather remained clear. They continued down the valley close to

the loch. By midmorning, they rode into a wooded copse and stopped to eat

a hasty meal of bread and cheese.

Mary found a place to settle against a large oak. Alexander and

Duncan joined her there. Duncan passed her a tied cloth. She opened it,

and then smiled as she offered him some of the dried apples he had given

her.

He shook his head. “‘Tis for you, little sister.”

His gaze went to Alexander. “Do you mean to share the tidings about

the bairn with the rest of the clan?” he asked.

“They already know, Duncan,” Alexander said as he accepted some of

Mary’s apples.

“Do you not wish to strut about like a proud cock crowing about it as

the other men do about theirs?” he asked.

Alexander’s gaze settled on Mary.

“Tis your first born, Alexander,” Duncan reminded.

“Do you wish to share the tidings?” she asked, her voice soft.

He gave her a wry smile.

Warmth and pleasure curled up inside her. “They will know soon in

any case,” she reminded him. “Twill be best such news comes from you.”

Alexander’s smile brought an airless feeling beneath her ribs.

“I will try not to crow too loudly,” he teased.

She found him so appealing in that moment she could not hold back a

smile. She wanted to lean against him and feel his arms about her. The

heat of a blush stormed her cheeks. She rose to her feet and excused

herself.

****

watched Mary slip discreetly behind some nearby brush.

“Mayhap.” Alexander rubbed his thigh for it had begun to ache. “‘Tis a

double-edged sword I find myself astride. And the worst part is knowing ‘tis

my own fault I am there.”

Duncan chuckled. “Mayhap you are making atonement for your sins.”

He got to his feet and stretched. “She is a sweet-natured lass.”

For the first time Alexander saw a question in Duncan’s eyes as he

looked down at him. “Aye, sweet-natured and too precious to be sacrificed

to the likes of Bearach MacDonald.”

Duncan’s features hardened. “‘Twas in my thoughts there had to be