Highland Moonlight (23 page)

freckles adorning her upturned nose, lent her features an elfish charm that

had Mary smiling at her reassuringly.

“Aye. You may bring me some bread and cheese and dried apples for

the noon meal,” she said.

The girl’s expression grew anxious at the prospect of leaving her post.

“If my lord wishes me to remain in my chamber, I will do so, Grace,”

she promised with a sigh. She had allowed her temper to dictate her

actions and she had only herself to blame for the consequences.

Being confined had given her some time to rest and to think. Knowing

he had deceived her, still hurt, no matter what reason he gave for the

deception. Did he not understand that every time he sought to manipulate

her it made her doubt him? Yet, he said he had done it to ease her distrust.

The way he had held her hand around him, his tawny gaze hot with anger

and desire, stole her breath every time she thought about it.

She settled before the fire with her sewing things as she awaited

Grace’s return from the kitchen. She smoothed the wrinkles from the shirt

she stitched. The russet cloth would go well with Alexander’s auburn hair

and tawny eyes. She straightened the laces picturing the fabric stretched

across the muscular width of his shoulders and chest.

She noticed, with surprise, how often of late her thoughts dwelt on her

husband’s body. His nudity at night as they lay in bed together had become

more disturbing. There had been times she had wanted to press back

against him and align her body to his. She wanted, but did not understand

what it was she wanted. She often felt hot and restless, but did not know

why. How could she crave the feel of his hands on her body, the brush of his

bare skin against hers, yet wish to avoid the joining of their flesh? Or did

she?

Memories of how close they had come to mating after the feast at

Lorne brought a fine mist of sweat to her brow and a heated ache to

intimate areas of her body. She rose to dampen a cloth and hold it to her hot

cheeks. It was sinful to feel this way; it had to be.

They had more between them than the bairn now, she felt certain. If

she allowed Alexander to use her body to serve his needs, would it

strengthen the bond? She prayed it would. Perhaps, the small glimmer of

affection she sometimes spied when he looked at her, would grow to more

if she gave him what he wanted.

Grace returned with her food, but Mary felt too restless to do anything,

but nibble at it.

The day dragged on. For every stitch she made, her emotions swung

between uncertainty and excitement, hope and dread.

Alexander came to their chamber before the evening meal. Mary

watched him surreptitiously from her seat on the bed as he went to stand at

the fireplace and brace a booted foot on the hearth.

She freed her hair from the braid and drew it over her shoulder to

smooth the heavy mass into soft waves with a comb. She became aware of

his interest as he moved to hang his sword on the bedpost. She grew still

as he plucked a long silvery strand from her shoulder and smoothed it into

place in a possessive gesture.

“Will there be anythin’ else you’ll be needing, m’lady?” Grace asked as

she finished filling the pot at the fireplace with water.

“I will help with Lady Mary’s bath this eventide, Grace. She will not

need you again this night,” he said.

Mary looked up at him. The steadiness of his pale amber gaze brought

the heat of a blush to her face and an airless feeling beneath her ribs.

Raising his hand, he caressed the curve of her cheek with calloused

fingers.

The door clicked shut behind the girl and silence settled between

them.

“I could not overlook your taking me to task before the men, Mary,” he

said.

Her gaze dropped to the pelt beneath her and she ran her fingers over

the soft fur. “I could not overlook your deception either.”

She avoided looking at him, for if she gazed into those amber depths

she would forgive him his trickery. She could not continue doing that without

an end to them. “Good can never come of anything, but the truth, Alexander.”

He folded his hands behind him. “Tis true I chose such a path, but

‘twas because I thought to end your distrust of me.” His gaze moved over

her face. “Once you began to care for my wounds and touch me without

hesitation, I could not tell you and see you withdraw from me again.”

Her anger melted away beneath the weight of his confession. The

realization came to her that her wariness had been in itself a punishment to

him.

“I am told, ‘tis making up that is the best thing that comes from fighting

with one’s wife,” he said as he sat down beside her.

“Who told you that?”

“‘Twas Derrick. He has been wed for some time and thinks he knows

a thing or two about lasses.”

“Does he, now,” she said, her brows raised, her heart growing lighter

with his teasing.

“Nay. He is as big a fool as the rest of us.”

She laughed then grew thoughtful. “Have you been seeking anyone

else’s council about us besides Duncan and Derrick?”

He shook his head.

“Mayhap you should have asked a woman’s advice instead,” she said.

“Who would you suggest I ask, lass?”

“Me.”

He studied her for a long silent moment. “How do I earn your trust,

Mary?”

“By always placing truth before all else, and by dealing with me with as

much respect and honor as you would one of your men.”

Alexander nodded. He lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “I once traded

my honor and another’s for something I thought more important. I have

since learned to regret it quite bitterly.”

He looked so gravely serious Mary found she was holding her breath

as she waited for him to continue.

“Would you have left with me, had I asked you to do so the night of

Anne’s betrothal?” he asked.

She was silent as she thought about the question. She had loved him

so she had given her body to him. She would not have denied him that

either, had he asked. But would it ease his guilt and regret to know that, or

would it only make it worse?

“Who’s to know what might have been, Alexander? Thinking back will

not make it so. ‘Tis better to look forward than play what if with what has

already passed.”

The men had gathered in the great hall by the time Alexander guided

Mary downstairs for the evening meal. He had already braced himself for a

round of jests. The opportunity for the men to taunt him was too ripe to

ignore. At his place at the table sat a metal helmet and shield, and he

studied them with some interest.

“‘Tis to offer you protection should your lady be angered during the

meal, Alexander,” Tobias said. The cluster of men nearby broke into grins of

mischief.

Alexander smiled, seeing the humor in the gesture. “‘Tis grateful I am

for the thought, Tobias, but what of the rest of you?”

“They are so well trained they have no need of such protection,

Alexander,” Mary assured him. “‘Twas truly quick they were to take cover this

morn.”

Tobias laughed aloud as did several of the others. “Mayhap after we

sup you may give us all instruction in the use of such weaponry, m’lady,”

Tobias suggested, his blue eyes alight with humor beneath thick gray

brows.

“‘Twill be my honor, Tobias,” she said with a nod. “Though ‘twas not a

good choice of weapon and I fear my temper affected my aim.”

The men’s laughter became a roar, and even Alexander had to join in.

“I am truly sorry for my show of anger earlier,” she apologized in a

quieter moment when they were seated. “‘Tis a fault for which I have often

been chastised.”

“‘Tis a sin we have all been guilty of, Lady Mary,” Gabriel said from

down the table.

Alexander frowned at the quick way the man came to her defense and

the smile with which she graced him. More than one of the men seemed

taken with his wife, including his brother. Their interest tweaked a jealousy

that had never troubled him before.

“‘Tis sorry I am if my behavior caused you embarrassment before your

men, Alexander,” she offered quietly.

“A bit of spirit in a lass does no harm,” he said with a shrug. He ran a

hand down her back to her hip.

He could not seem to keep his hands from roaming whenever she

was near. It was a relief that she no longer pulled away or avoided his

touch, but it also bred a hunger for more that taunted and teased him

beyond measure.

Would she accept him soon? Her eagerness to seek peace between

them offered a measure of encouragement. If she wouldn’t, what then

would he do?

His gaze returned to her face to find her attention focused on one of

the men as he spoke. Mary’s presence at the table at mealtime had been

unobtrusive, until this morn. The men had begun to take more care with the

language they used and the ribald humor they sometimes shared.

His gaze traveled around the great hall. Of late, the floors had been

swept each day and the rushes changed. The food was more lightly

seasoned and cooked while it was fresher. Even Fergus had voiced

approval of the changes in the running of the castle she had made.

Just as the meal was being served a metallic clanging sounded from

outside. Alexander froze in the midst of filling the trencher before him, as did

the other men. Pandemonium broke out as everyone surged to their feet at

once then rushed for the doors.

“Stay in the castle, Mary,” he ordered.

“Fire-Fire in the village!” came a cry from atop the battlements.

The men crowded forward as they drew their swords. Alexander

spared only a moment to prepare himself. Whatever threat lay beyond the

gates, he would strike it down. He nodded and the heavy bars were lifted. In

a wave, the men rushed forward, parting the gate and swarming up the

hillside to the village. The thatched roof of one hut was aflame, but no

enemy was visible.

The villagers had already begun to battle the blaze, filling every

available vessel with water from the well and slapping at the burning thatch

with wet cloths. The houses were built close together and the sparks rising

on the cold December air threatened to set them all aflame.

“Take the villagers in hand,” Alexander yelled to Duncan, “I’ll be back.”

He sheathed his sword then gathered a group of six men. They raced back

down the hill to the castle.

It took precious moments to harness horses to two carts in the stable

and load the barrels of water used there. The quick pace of the horses over

the rutted path made the carts movements bone jarring despite the weight it

carried. He barely had time to pull the horses to a stop when men ran

forward to dip the water from the barrels and rush away again to throw it on

the blaze and douse the small sparks peppering the other roofs. The water

was soon gone and he pulled away to return for more.

In his absence, a row of torches had been stuck in the ground from the

loch to the top of the rise. In the light they provided, servants from the castle

stood ready with buckets. They formed lines from the water to the road

above. He pulled the horses to a halt. Vessels already filled were passed

up the line to empty into the barrels.

He spied his wife in the blaze of a torch where she stood in line with

the others hefting the heavy buckets of water. His stomach clenched in

concern. He swore and passed the reins to one of the men.

“Mary!” His voice carried across the distance, his tone sharp as he

leaped from his seat. He bound down the hill to her. “What are you about

here, lass?”

“‘Tis my place to be here, Alexander,” she answered.

“‘Tis your place to carry my son and take care while you’re about it! The

buckets are too heavy, Mary. ‘Tis a danger to you and the bairn.” He

softened his tone mindful of the servants. “‘Twould be a help if you would

ready your things to care for the injured. There will be burns to see to.”

He motioned to a man to take her place in line and grasped her arm to

help her up the slippery bank.

“How does the battle go?” she asked.

“With enough water, we will save the village.”

They topped the rise and she pulled away from him to go back to the

castle. He ran to jump aboard the cart as it lurched forward to travel the

distance back up the hill.

The men had managed to beat out the smaller fires, but the larger one

still blazed. Duncan and two other clansmen had armed themselves with

pollarms and were trying to break loose the burning thatch with the spears.

If they could encourage it to fall into the protective walls of the hut, it would

contain it.