Chapter Nine #2
“Ye will.” Cullen kneed his horse forward.
The snickering behind him sent his temper to boiling.
He didn’t care if he’d started it, the idea that any lass might be so hard to handle didn’t sit well with him.
His brother was right. Marrying up with Bronwyn would settle a great many scores.
His aching back found it a fine idea. Besides, beneath his teasing exterior was a son who had been raised with the same sense of duty that Brodick had.
Marrying for the benefit of the McJames people was his future.
’Twas not just any bride he needed. Bronwyn McQuade was, in fact, a fine choice to be contemplating.
Now if he could only manage a way to getting close enough to the lass without getting his neck stretched on a rope by her father and brothers. That was the real trick. Not taming her.
There wasn’t a lass alive that was too strong to resist his charm. It might be a wee bit of fun to pursue the stubborn lass just to see how fast she succumbed to his touch.
The bells didn’t ring upon his return.
Brodick had ordered that custom stopped when his father died.
He didn’t feel worthy of the bells announcing his return until he proved his worth as the new Lord of Sterling.
’Twas not something that could be done in the three short years he’d held his title.
He rode through the open gate with pride tonight.
All the discomforts of the last five weeks dissipated as he looked over the peace of the courtyard.
Men walked the walls, the fires were burning evenly and all of its inhabitants slept in ease.
That was the duty of the McJames.
The sword on his back was never too heavy. But he was glad to be home again. Swinging his leg off the back of his horse, he gave the animal a firm pat before letting a stable lad take the reins. The youth looked stunned for a moment, hesitating because Brodick normally cared for his own steed.
“Do a good job of rubbing him down, lad, and I’ll see a reward to ye.”
A smile parted the boy’s face. “I’ll be like his mother.”
Men began spilling through the open gate, their voices cheerful. Lights began to flicker in the tower as wives and families roused. He looked up toward the chamber his wife slept in but saw no hint of light in the window.
That didn’t discourage him.
All it did was unleash a wicked desire to wake her up.
He stopped halfway up the steps. Inside he caught a whiff of sweet lavender from the candles.
A deeper breath gave him a hint of what his body smelled like.
Turning around he moved toward the bathing room.
The erection standing at attention behind his kilt would just have to wait until he removed the stench of horse and sweat.
His wife had a pretty nose that he had no desire to see wrinkled.
The kitchen was already lit up, Bythe and her helpers smiling with welcome. Several retainers had made their way to their families, joy spilling into the darker corridors.
“Bythe, I’ve need o’ a bath and I dinnae care if it’s cold as a spinster.”
“Aye, my lord. It will be chilly, the fires are low.” She wrung her hands, looking about nervously.
“No matter, ’tis no reason to fret. Send the water.”
One of the maids scurried into the bath room with a candle.
She touched the flame to the wicks of the candles mounted on the walls, bringing them to life.
With a hasty lowering of her head, she departed.
Water began splashing down the trough and into the tub.
It gurgled, making a happy sound, and Brodick shed his clothing, grateful to be back in civilized surroundings.
He was thirty-four years old and happy to relinquish the desire to ride through the night to the younger men who still considered it gallant.
He preferred his home.
Sitting down in the tub, he reached for the soap.
It was a common bar, milled on his own land without any feminine perfume scents added.
There was only a scent of beeswax. He applied it to his skin with brisk strokes, his thoughts centered on completing his task so he might get on with what he was truly craving.
His bed with his wife in it.
He was slightly disappointed that she had not come down to greet him, but shrugged it off. Her chamber was above floors and she was most likely still slumbering away, unaware that he’d returned. He suddenly understood why his father had the bells rung when he entered the courtyard.
It suddenly seemed like a fine tradition.
“Toweling, my lord.”
Ginny spoke from the doorway, her head looking at the floor. She kept her sight on the hem of her skirt as she entered and left the neat linen on a stool.
“If my wife awakes, send her to me.”
The maid swallowed roughly. Brodick froze, turning his attention to the girl, but she was scurrying out of the room as if he were Satan. He frowned, but dismissed the maid. The only woman he had to struggle to understand was his wife.
Now that was a task he was looking forward to.
His wife’s chamber was too cold. Brodick frowned, his wet hair feeling the chill when he entered it.
There wasn’t a speck of light from anywhere inside the chamber.
His suspicions rose as he cast a look at the fireplace.
There was nothing there; even the scent of smoke was missing from the room telling him that a fire had not been burning for many days, possibly weeks.
The curtains on the windows were open as well.
They should have been drawn at night to keep the fire heat from seeping past the glass.
But having them open allowed moonlight and light from the walls to penetrate into the dark room.
He’d expect such if a room was unoccupied.
Icy fingers closed around his heart. It was the sort of feeling he’d only experienced a few times in his life.
Dread choked him as he moved toward the bed, trying to see through the blackness.
The bed curtains were drawn all the way around the bed, only a mere few inches open at the foot of the bed. Inside, there was naught but darkness.
Had she fled back to her father?
Jerking one curtain aside, he reached into the bed and found a small lump. His breath expelled from his lungs in a rush of relief. His knees actually wobbled and he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. His wife moved, stirring as her bed was rocked.
“What does the mistress require?”
His wife looked at the bed curtains, confusion marring her face. Her words didn’t make sense.
“Don’t ye mean the queen? When I attended yer English court, I dinnae recall her ladies calling her mistress.”
“My lord?”
Anne stared at the large shape and trembled. Joy rushed through her. She reached out to touch him, needing the reassurance of feeling his warm skin. It felt as if it had been forever since he left.
“I believe I instructed ye to call me Brodick when in our bed.”
He moved before her fingers made contact with him.
The bed rocked, sending the curtains swaying like they were on a ship at sea.
His large form looked huge in the darkness but his voice had been tender and welcoming.
She sighed when his arms wrapped around her, hauling her up against him in a solid embrace that made her shiver.
She had dreamed of his arms around her.
“Brodick.” She lightly stroked his shoulders, shaking with happiness. He groaned softly.
“Say that again.”
Tracing a path up his neck she toyed with the locks of his hair. It was wet and curling.
“Welcome home, Brodick”
His mouth sought hers, taking a firm kiss. She slid her hands back to his shoulders. His lips pressed hers open, lingering over her mouth like a fine whiskey. He didn’t rush but tasted her gently.
“What are you sleeping in?”
Her fingers tried to hold him close but he pulled away to look at her.
“Are ye wearing that surcoat in bed?” His hands ran over her shoulders, trying to discover exactly what she was covered in.
“It keeps me warm when you are away.”
His hands stopped investigating her clothing. He framed her face gently, leaning back close until she felt his breath on her moist lips.
“Ah lass, ye’ll turn my head with flattery like that.” He opened the surcoat, working the buttons quickly, even in the dark. He pushed the garment over her shoulders, lifting her up to get at the tail of her chemise.
“Ye’ve no need o’ it now. I promise to keep ye very warm.”
His kiss blocked out whatever she might have thought to reply. His large body pressed her back into the bed. Anne reached for him, frantic to be touched. The solitude of the last month felt like an eternity. Brodick was warm and solid. Everything she craved.
She kissed him back. Her tongue boldly seeking his, his tongue tangling deep inside her mouth, stroking and gliding against hers.
Her hands twisted in his hair, combing through the wet strands.
Even that touch flooded her with sweet sensation.
Each breath she drew brought his scent deep into her lungs, further confirming that she was no longer alone.
She wasn’t cold either.
Her blood began heating, melting away the chill that had encased her.
The skin that had felt nothing but cold for so long suddenly flickered with heat so intense it was like fever.
Her feet slid along his calves, their legs entwining.
The flow of heat entered her belly, swirling into her passage.
One warm hand cupped a breast, firmly grasping it.
“I’ve missed ye.” Husky and needy, his voice was pure delight. His thumb brushed over the puckered point of her nipple. A soft grunt left his lips.
“I think ye’ve missed me, too.”
“I have.”