Highland Moonlight (21 page)

impatient oath at the interruption and strode to the door to answer the

summons.

“Alexander—you are home,” a husky feminine voice came from the

open door. Slender arms slid around his neck and a supple body clothed in

a deep green surcoat molded to his tall frame. The woman, her face

obscured, drew his head down and offered him a kiss openly passionate

and inviting.

A dropping sensation struck Mary’s midriff, her legs going weak with

shock.

Alexander worked the woman’s arms from around his neck and

quickly set her aside.

“I’m sure you knew, as did the rest of the clan, that I was returning with

my wife this day, Tira,” he said dryly, his expression stony. “You will

apologize to my wife for your intrusion on our homecoming then you will

leave the castle and take yourself back to where you belong.” He grasped

the woman’s arm none too gently and brought her to stand before Mary.

Tira’s emerald green eyes surrounded by sooty lashes glared in open

hostility as they ran down Mary’s scantily clad figure. She had lush lips and

a slender nose. Her hair hung dark as night, along either side of her oval

shaped face. She easily topped Mary’s height by an intimidating measure.

Mary’s heart sank, a feeling of despair knotting beneath her ribs. The

enmity in the woman’s gaze had the hair rising on the back of her neck.

“You will beg my wife’s pardon for your intrusion, Tira.” Alexander’s

masculine features grew harsh with anger.

“I beg your pardon for intruding on your homecoming,” Tira parroted

without expression.

The woman’s insolence had Mary stiffening her spine. She raised her

chin and tried to speak with more confidence than she felt. “‘Tis of little

consequence.”

Dark color stormed the woman’s cheeks, and her eyes glittered with

anger. “He has not told you about me, has he?” the woman taunted. “‘Twas

I who filled his bed and his needs for more than half a year.”

Alexander breathed an oath. “What we had has long since passed,

Tira. This is my wife and you will show her respect or you will find yourself

banished from our village.”

The woman’s features stiffened.

“You have trespassed where you have not been invited. Do not do so

again.”

Tira tossed the thick blanket of blue-black hair over her shoulder and

her expression grew vicious as she swung back to Mary. “You will always

know ‘twas I who was with him first.”

Mary flinched inwardly, her anger rising from the fog of shock and pain

like an erupting volcano. “I am sorry for your loss, Tira,” she said with

exaggerated kindness. “‘Tis a pity such a bonnie lass would settle for being

less than a wife to any man. Mayhap you should have had more pride than

that.”

Her features flushing red, Tira took a threatening step toward her.

Alexander grasped her arm anew and marched her from the room.

Mary drew a deep breath and wrapped her arms against her waist.

Shivering with reaction, her eyes roamed about the room, all the pleasure

she had felt in her surroundings draining away. Visions of her husband and

his mistress sharing their bed had her stomach pitching, and bile rose in

her throat. What more could she be expected to endure to be wife to

Alexander Campbell?

****

reluctance. He did not relish facing Mary’s wrath after such a scene. He had

planned a different sort of homecoming, one where they could start their life

together here on more fertile ground. He no longer held out much hope for

that now. It had shriveled away the moment Tira had appeared.

His steps flagged and he drew a deep breath before opening the oak

door to their chamber. His gaze swept the room and found his wife perched

on a stool near the fire. Her hair looked like spun gold against the dark pelt

from the bed she had wrapped about her. She did not rise to rant and rage

at him as he had expected, but continued to gaze into the fire in silence.

He strode forward to stand before the fire beside her and folded his

hands behind him. The silence stretched for several minutes. He frowned,

reminded of the first weeks of their marriage. Her eyes were large and dark

in a face still pale with shock. The anger he glimpsed in her features was

all too familiar. With a sigh, he sat on the mat at her feet and leaned back

against the hearth behind him.

“I will not be taken to task for what has passed before we were wed,

Mary.”

She was silent for a moment. “Did you wish to wed her?”

“Nay, lass,” he rushed to assure her. She did not understand passion

for passion’s sake, for her own was steeped in only what she had

experienced thus far. It would do more harm than good to try to explain.

“Why did you not warn me of her?”

“It has been months since I have seen her.” He drew a deep breath.

“Tira is a widow. Her husband was one of my men. He was killed while

fighting for the Bruce. ‘Twas only a passing fancy, though she would wish it

otherwise.”

“Your father once told me if I sought to avoid my duty to you, you would

set me aside and take another. Would that not make me a passing fancy as

well?”

Alexander’s shoulders tensed with resentment. He understood why

his father would council her so, but he did not appreciate his interference.

“‘Tis not my father you are wed to, Mary. He had no right to suggest such a

thing to you.”

“He spoke the truth,” she said in a flat tone, her blue gaze intent.

It seemed she would damn him for things not done as well as those

past. “Then mayhap you should do your duty,” he snapped, his patience at

an end. He would not allow her to make him feel guilty for the past. He rose

to his feet and went to retrieve the tankard of ale he had been drinking with

his meal. The brew was bitter and warm and he set it aside then reached

for an apple slice soaked in cinnamon and honey to suck on and clear the

taste from his mouth.

His gaze swept the room as he sought to keep his attention away from

her until his temper cooled. Her movement behind him had him turning. He

watched as she donned her kirtle and the stained surcoat again. “Where

are you going, Mary?”

“To do my duty, as you bid me, my lord,” she said her tone strangely

muffled. “I am going to see the men are comfortable.”

Catching a glimpse of her tear wet cheeks, Alexander swore harshly

beneath his breath. The door clicked shut behind her.

****

where else to go. The fire had burnt low and the room, now drafty and cool,

offered little comfort. Wedging herself into the window seat and bracing her

back against the stone, she tucked her feet beneath her gown attempting to

keep them warm.

Why was it each time she thought they had reached a measure of

peace between them, something rose up to thrust them apart? Resting her

head against the back of the wooden bench, she drew a deep breath and

fought against the tears that clogged her throat and stung her eyes.

He had said he enjoyed the lasses as much as his brother. As long

as they had remained nameless, faceless entities, she had been able to

ignore the other women Alexander had known. Confronted by his mistress,

the images that had thrust into her mind, ate at her heart like a hungry wolf.

She could no longer consign such images to the back of her mind. Knowing

he had enjoyed Tira’s tall shapely body was like a knife sharp and twisting

beneath her ribs. His reminding her of her duty to him, on top of it, had been

too much.

Trying to console herself with thoughts of the tender moments they

had shared in the past weeks, did no good. She could run his household

and care for the people of his clan, she could bear his children and his

name, but the fact remained, she had never served him in the way he

wanted her to, and his mistress had.

****

pelts on the bed, he waited for Mary to return. The time passed slowly. He

would not go in search for her. It would do no good anyway; he could not

change what had been done before they were wed, and he would not

apologize for it. He had been telling himself that ever since she had left.

Moments passed, the silence of the room broken only by the crackle of

the fire and the distant moan of the wind outside the drawn shutters. The

bed felt empty without her. He moved restlessly, unable to get comfortable.

He heard Mary at the door and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He

heard the rustle as she removed her clothing and expected her to slip

beneath the pelts beside him. One of the pelts was dragged away and he

opened his eyes to spy her spreading it on the matt before the hearth and

lying down.

At first stunned, he lay still, and then anger surged at her

stubbornness. He flipped back the pelts and padded silently to the

fireplace. Squatting next to her, he grasped her arm to turn her toward him.

He swallowed back his temper with an effort and tried to use reason.

“The floor is cold and no place for you to be sleeping, Mary. If you have

no care for yourself, you should think of the bairn.” He pulled her to her feet,

but when he tried to draw her to the bed, she dug in her heels and jerked

away from him.

“I will not share a bed or a chamber with you that you have shared with

her,” she said, her body stiff. “I will have a place of my own where only

memories of what we might have together may be built.”

Studying her more closely, he read pain behind her careful

composure, and was moved to comfort her. “Tira has never been within this

chamber until this night, Mary. Everything here was chosen anew for when

we wed.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her gaze dropped to his chest.

“Come to bed,” he urged.

She moved to the bed and climbed beneath the pelts. Turning her

back to him, she curled on her side.

After a long silence, he asked, “What memories may we have with you

on one side of the bed and me on the other?”

“The only thing between us is an empty space,” she countered. “You

may fill it if you wish.”

Her willfulness stirred his impatience again, and he eyed her slender

back with a frown. He folded his arms beneath his head. He would not

bend. It was she who would have to come to him this time.

Again, silence settled between them. His hope began to flag.

Mary turned to look over her shoulder at him then rolled to face him but

her silence dragged on.

Disappointment settled like a stone in the pit of Alexander’s stomach.

Suddenly, she wiggled across the space between them and curled against

his side to rest her head on his shoulder. Relief brought a welcome release

of tension from his body and he drew a deep breath. As he slipped an arm

along her back to cradle her close, a rueful smile tugged at his lips. This

small upset had made him aware of how deep his feelings ran and how

vulnerable it made him. But as much as he disliked such a weakness, he

knew no way of preventing it.

He breathed in Mary’s sweet musky scent and fought the instant

desire to crush her to him and taste the soft fragrant skin of her neck and

shoulder. She would probably punch him if he did. He sighed.

“There is one thing I would discuss with you, Alexander.” She rose up

to look down at him, the reflective light of the fire etching her features with

pale yellow.

“Aye.”

“Should you ever betray my trust with another, now we have spoken the

vows, I will cut out your liver and serve it up to break the fast.”

Alexander started to laugh, but something in her expression strangled

the urge. Studying her features more closely, he recognized the same level,

iron hard resolve in her face she had displayed while holding a crossbow

aimed at his chest. It was no jest; she meant every word.

She was jealous of Tira. The realization shot a heady feeling of

surprise and pleasure through him. That she would attempt to rule his

actions with a threat though, had him frowning.

“‘Tis unseemly for a lass to tell her husband what he can or can not

do,” he said in a stern tone.

“You once told me a wife should tell her husband what she wants. I

am doing as you suggested.”

It was more than that, much more, but he had no desire to further the

argument. He struggled against the desire to smile like a fool for fear of

sparking another. “You have told me, and we will say no more about the

matter.”

She gave a brief nod then turned aside to lay with her back against his

side .

Long, slow minutes passed, followed only by the snap of the smoking

fire.

With frustrated desire still roiling deep inside, Alexander could not