Chapter 16
The night passed in a blur of dancing, delectable desserts, and names that Margaret knew would take time for her to properly learn.
Her body was heavy with exhaustion, and her mind swirled with the events of the day.
If it weren’t for Ryan grabbing onto her elbow and whispering in her ear that it was time to retire, she was sure she’d have stayed at the cèilidh until she collapsed on her feet.
“It seems ye enjoyed yerself,” Ryan murmured as they moved through the lantern-lit corridor. “Better than yer English gatherings?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, not quite paying attention to the direction they were going.
It felt as if it were taking them longer than normal to get to her quarters. That could easily be explained, though. The time felt thicker than molasses. She couldn’t be sure whether a few minutes or a few hours had passed.
“I cannae remember the last time a celebration such as that was held in the castle,” he said, unbothered by her brief response. “It must have been years ago. Everyone must have been needin’ that.”
“I’m glad we could provide it,” Margaret said, fighting back a yawn. “I think perhaps I needed it too.”
Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment as he took them down another hallway. Margaret was certain that she hadn’t been to this part of the castle before. Was it possible they were taking a route she wasn’t aware of?
That must be it. He surely knows this castle like the back of his hand.
She kept that thought at the back of her mind, choosing not to voice her observation. It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a door she didn’t recognize that she realized her assumption was incorrect. But she couldn’t seem to get her mouth to move as she was ushered into the room.
Once Ryan let go of her, Margaret looked around. There was a large bed against the far wall and a fire roaring in the hearth. It smelled strongly of the Laird, cedarwood, and something spicy.
I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I can’t believe I let myself forget that Highlanders are usually crude. If I weren’t so tired, I could have stopped him from bringing me here and saved myself the walk I’m going to have to take back to my room.
She turned to level Ryan with the most intimidating glare she could muster. Clearly, it didn’t inspire the reaction she desired. He was smirking at her with an eyebrow lifted.
“What’s that face for, Sassenach?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“First, I’m your wife now. Use my name,” Margaret said, his smile widening only fueling her frustration. “Second, this isn’t my quarters.”
“Nay, it’s nae yer chambers, Margaret,” he said, emphasizing her name. “These are me chambers.”
“Then why are we here?” she challenged as she inwardly cursed the way her face flushed at the way her name sounded from his lips.
“Ye said it yerself already,” he said, and she was positive he was being difficult on purpose. “Ye’re me wife now. We can nay longer sleep in separate chambers. We’re married.”
“I… You…” She stuttered, taking a quick step back. The jewels adorning her neck clicked together.
“If ye’re worried about anythin’ happenin’, ye daenae need to,” he said, raising his hands as though surrendering. Then, something wicked flashed over his features. “Unless ye plan on instigatin’ somethin’.”
“Ryan—”
“I’m nae the kind of man that goes after unwillin’ partners.”
“Ryan!” she exclaimed again, that funny feeling in her stomach knocking into her.
“I’m just bein’ honest with ye,” he said easily as he dropped his hands.
“Well, I’m not comfortable sharing a room with you,” Margaret squeaked, crossing her arms over her chest to try to make herself appear more in control than she felt.
“Ye should start gettin’ comfortable with it, lass,” Ryan replied, loosening the knot holding his doublet closed. “This willnae change.”
He said something else, but Margaret’s tired mind went a little fuzzy as his chest was exposed. She swallowed hard, telling herself that he was doing this on purpose. If she were distracted, she wouldn’t be able to make her arguments.
“If you’re in charge, then you should be able to change whatever rule that says I have to sleep here,” she said, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his. Flecks of gold in his irises flashed in the firelight.
Ryan chuckled, taking a slow step toward her. Even though there was ample space between them and the room was larger than her own, Margaret thought they might as well have been shoved in a wardrobe.
“There’s nae a rule,” he said with amusement. “But I’d have to explain to me council why me wife is refusin’ to stay with me.”
“You’re a smart man,” she sniffed, every nerve in her body lighting up as he took another step closer to her. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Aye, I could,” he agreed, making a show of considering her statement. “But wouldnae it be easier just to share the room? I’m sure they’d want to hear from me wife as well, get her side of things. Do ye think ye could provide them with a convincin’ argument?”
“I…” She swallowed. He was within arm’s length of her now. “I believe I could.”
“Then, how about ye practice for me?” he proposed as he stopped directly in front of Margaret. “What would ye tell me council when they ask why ye’re opposed to sharin’ a room?”
“That…” She stopped, unable to look away from him. Something was sparking between them, a pull that she was certain was connected to the warmth in her belly. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Is that so?” he said, and she felt herself swaying into his space.
“Yes,” she said as she forced herself to take a step away. “But while I think about it, I suppose that I have no other choice.”
“Ach, so ye’re givin’ up?” Ryan said with a chuckle.
“It’s more of a tactical retreat,” Margaret said.
He didn’t hide his laugh, and she felt a sense of pride at being the source of that sound. It eased her anxieties a bit. Though, she was still nervous about sharing a bed with the man.
“Now, if you’ll turn around and give me some privacy,” she said, narrowing her eyes in his direction.
“Privacy?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. You can’t expect me to sleep in these jewels and my wedding gown, can you?”
“I suppose I cannae,” he admitted, giving her body one last sweeping look before doing as she asked and turning his back to her. “But as yer husband, I do think I have every right to see ye naked.”
“Must I accuse you of being a beast again?” she asked his back, noting the way his shoulders shook a bit of laughter.
Margaret waited a few seconds before she began the process of getting undressed. Her hands shook as she got rid of the jewelry, walking over to the table beside Ryan’s bed. As each piece came off, she laid it on the surface.
Her gown came off next. She glanced around the room before deciding to drape it over an armchair near the fire. Then, she reached around her back to remove her corset.
“Oh, come now,” she murmured under her breath as she struggled to get her fingers on the fastenings.
“Everythin’ all right over there?” Ryan asked.
She whipped her head around, making sure the Laird was still facing away from her. After confirming she still had her privacy, she went back to her task without responding though it only took a few minutes before she realized that she wouldn’t be able to get it off by herself.
“I need your help,” she said with a sigh, letting her hands fall to her sides. “But you have to behave yourself.”
“Ach, who said I willnae behave?” Ryan asked, turning around with a smirk on his face. “What do ye need me help with?”
Margaret’s palms itched as he strode across the floor to her. A strange part of her longed to reach out to him. She stamped it down, turning around and refusing to look at him.
“I can’t get this corset off by myself,” she said.
“So ye need me to help ye undress,” he hummed, his fingertips ghosting over her waist.
Before Margaret could chastise him, his hands found the ribbon that laced the corset to her form. She held her breath, waiting for him to simply rip the garment from her body. The muscles in her legs were braced, prepared to slip away from him if he tried anything uncouth.
Much to her surprise, Ryan’s strong hands were deft and delicate as he untied the fastening. Then, slowly, with care she couldn’t quite believe he possessed, he began to loosen the garment. As he worked, his knuckles brushed against her back.
Each touch sent tendrils of heat through her being. Some of them rested firmly between her legs. The sensation confused her, and she very nearly felt embarrassed by it. It wasn’t worrying, though. In fact, she found it pleasant. Perhaps she even wanted to explore it.
He mentioned something when we first met… about having me begging for him. I fear he may have been right.
“Are ye all right, lass?” Ryan asked, his voice dangerously close to her ear.
He was still steadily removing her corset. The movements he took were slow, feeling almost reverent. She didn’t think he was doing it out of respect for the garment, though. Rather, he was unwrapping her and savoring each moment.
A flush rose to her face. She attempted to reply, but when no sound came out, she was forced to nod. Ryan made a noise of amusement, making it clear to her that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“I daenae ken how ye breathe in this thing,” he said as he finally got the corset loose enough for Margaret to slip out of it.
“It wasn’t all that tight,” she said as she draped it on top of her wedding gown. “Actually, it was among the most comfortable corsets I’ve worn.”
Before she could turn around, Ryan’s hands returned to her waist, pulling her against his chest. She could feel each of his muscles and track each breath he took. Heat rolled off of him, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
“I’m nae complainin’ about ye askin’ me for help,” he said against her ear. Her chest heaved with the effort of keeping her lungs filled with air. “But ye need to be careful what ye ask of me.”
She swallowed hard, her body leaning further into his without her mind’s permission. He let it happen, encouraged it, even. His grip was tight and steady. It kept her anchored to the earth even though she felt as if she might float away.
“Wha… what do you mean?” Margaret managed to ask. Her voice was too high-pitched. The feeling in her stomach and between her legs was threatening to overtake her entire being.
“I mean to tell ye,” Ryan said, his tone dipping dangerously low. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and Margaret was unable to hide the shudder that ripped through her. “I was holdin’ back while I was takin’ off yer corset. Next time, I cannae promise that I’ll be able to control meself.”
Margaret’s breath hitched. She bit down on her bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. If the Laird was expecting an answer, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave her hips one final squeeze, a touch that felt like a promise, and let go of her. As he gave her space, her mind reeled.
Would I have even tried to stop him if he had pushed further? Or would I have simply allowed him to take whatever he wanted? Would it be so bad if I found myself wanting the same thing he did?