Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Lachlan shook the rain from his cloak, running a hand through his hair to dismiss the droplets that had clung to his locks as he had ridden back towards the Keep.
It was cold outside, the dark sky closing in around the walls of the Fraser abode, and he did not expect anyone to be awake by the time he got back.
In fact, he had hoped to arrive to silence, a chance to clear his head a little.
He’d been out to take care of some errand in the village across the way, managing a dispute in land between a pair of farmers who were both insistent that they had been the first to begin farming on a particular piece of hill.
Dull work, but it got him away from the Keep, and, for now, that was all he wanted.
Well, it also gave him a chance to stop by a local leatherworker for a small gift, though he had not expected to hand it out so soon.
He had told Keith to keep an eye on Innes while he was out, though he did not expect she would be up to much, given that she had still been in bed when he had left.
She must have been exhausted after what had happened the day before, but then, she did not seem exactly like the type to keep to herself, even when she would have been better off doing just that.
But, as he strode towards his chambers, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
The flickering of candlelight. And not just a single torch, which might have been carried by a maid passing through the corridors late in the evening.
No, there looked to be a handful of them set out in the small dining hall that sat next to the great welcoming space.
And, as he made his way towards it, he was surprised to find himself greeted by the very woman who had been on his mind all day.
Innes rose to her feet as he appeared in the doorway, a smile crossing her lips.
The table was laid with a modest but filling supper; bread, a few meats, some ale, and some tea.
In the middle sat a vase that had been filled with yellow and red flowers, so bright in the soft light they almost looked to be impossible.
He let his leather satchel slip from his shoulder, his cloak divested into his arms.
“What did you do all this for?” he asked, cautious. “You spend today torturing Keith, and this is how you wish to ask fer my forgiveness?”
She laughed, raising her eyebrows at him. “A wife cannae ensure that her husband is fed and sated after a long day?” she announced, cocking her head to the side. “Come. Sit. Ye’ve been away all day. You must take some rest.”
Cautiously, he made his way towards the table.
She softened her gaze as he approached, a small smile on her face; there was something slightly guarded about it, as though she imagined he might turn around and toss all this to the ground in a moment of rage.
But, instead, he took it as the peace offering it was and sank into his seat.
“Let me pour the ale for you.” She made her way around the table with an easy, soft movement, carrying herself with the confidence of any well-mannered noblewoman.
She reached for the jug and poured a generous amount into his cup, and he could not help but notice the way her fingers wrapped around the handle, imagining what they might have felt like on him instead.
She withdrew to her seat, taking a sip of her tea. Her braid was carefully arranged over one shoulder. Had she woven it with flowers, as she had on the day of the wedding? He could not tell in the dim light, the scent of the blooms filling the air.
“You were out all day,” she remarked carefully, lifting her cup to her lips. “It must have been urgent business for you to spend so much time far from the Keep.”
“Just a land dispute,” he assured her, and he glanced back towards his satchel where he had left it at the door.
He hesitated for a moment. When he had picked up the gift for her, he had imagined handing it to her the next day, once she’d had a chance to rest. But she had shown him such kindness in making sure that he had food and a warm welcome to come back to, perhaps it was time that he offered her what he had been keeping to himself.
He rose to his feet, pulling open the satchel and reaching inside. She peered past him, trying to see what it was that had so taken his attention.
“I got you something. A gift.”
She looked a little startled. Was he getting her a gift such a surprise?
He turned to her, the present clasped in his hands.
It was a book, a journal, to be precise; leather-bound and imprinted with the Fraser clan crest. When he had seen how well-loved her journal from home had been, he had seen the chance to gift her something that would make her feel a little more comfortable here, something to signify her new life under his roof.
He handed it to her, suddenly wondering if she would even like it. For a moment, he felt daft for even bringing it to her.
Why would she want another journal?
But when she lifted her gaze back to him, her eyes were shining as though she could scarcely believe what she was seeing.
“You… you got me this?”
“Aye. Fer yer drawings and notes. The one that you had from… the other one you had, it was near to falling apart.”
She traced her finger along the spine, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. It looked, at least to him, entirely genuine, one that he did not have to second-guess.
“Thank you.”
“Dinnae think too much of it,” he added gruffly, reaching for his ale and taking a long sip. “Just a small purchase fae a local maker.”
She moved towards him, casting the journal on the table beside her. Her eyes were locked on his now, and something seemed to have shifted from when he had first arrived. Something in her eyes, different from what it had been, some care and caution fallen away like drapes.
“It’s very kind of you, husband,” she remarked as she drew closer to him.
He let out a sound deep in his throat, something between a laugh and a grunt.
“Ye speak as though ye did not think me capable of such things.”
“That was not my intention,” she quickly responded.
She paused before him, and he leaned back, looking up at her.
Being so close to her, he could smell the sweetness of her skin; he could recall, with almost too much ease, the way she had sounded when his fingers were moving between her legs, when he had guided her to the release she had so clearly ached for.
And then, seeming to gather all her boldness in one motion, she slipped into his lap.
He caught his breath, his hands moving to her waist at once, catching her, holding her there.
If she were to draw any closer, he was not sure that he would be able to restrain himself, nor did he feel he wanted to.
“Careful,” he warned her, voice low. “Ye dinnae want yer Laird to lose control of himself, lass.”
She looked up at him, that deep, piercing gaze that carved away so much of what he had put up between them.
“Maybe… maybe I dinnae want you in control, my Laird," she breathed, and she ducked in closer, their faces so near to each other now he could almost taste her breath. He didn’t know if this was an offer or a warning, a threat or an urge.
Or if all she truly wanted was for him to take her, right then and there, as he should have done on their wedding night.
He slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her down to him in a rough embrace. His tongue met hers, hungry, hungrier than he had ever been. Her hands found his chest, balling into his tunic, her body moving into his with an almost painfully desirous hunger.
“Then,” he purred, as he pulled back, allowing both of them to catch their breath. “Ye shall have exactly what you want, my Lady.”
He pulled her into his arms, rising from the seat and striding to the door. The meal and the ale long forgotten, replaced by a hunger he knew he would not be able to sate with anything but her.
Innes reached for him as soon as he laid her on the bed, even the barest separation between their bodies more than she could contend with. But he did not leave her waiting long, as he moved down on top of her, sliding one hand beneath her dress as their mouths came together once more.
She had known it from the moment she had laid eyes on the journal that there was more to this man than she had ever given him credit for.
He might have thrown up this front of being commanding, cold, and crazed, but there was something in him that she could not resist. Something warm that lay beneath his frozen exterior.
And now, as he moved his hand behind her to unlace her dress, his fingers dancing with a now-practiced ease against her body, she lifted herself for him, making it easier for him to undress her entirely.
Their mouths came together hungrily, the taste of each other on their lips, the urge and the need for more.
She tugged on the leather ties that held together his tunic and tossed it aside, running her hand along his strong chest. He dipped his head low to kiss her as he pulled off the dress, letting it land in a heap next to them.
He tore away her underthings like the fabric was little more than a wisp and traced his lips down her throat, letting his teeth graze against her on the way.
She traced her fingers over the muscles of his back, watching as he parted her legs. When he looked upon her fully for the first time, the flicker of a grin rose on his lips.
“Oh, lass,” he mumbled. “You cannae imagine just how long I’ve been waiting fer this moment.”
And, with that, before she could say a word, he slung his kilt aside and drew himself into his hand. Moving atop her once more, he guided himself against her, letting her feel the fullness of him in the moment before he entered her.
Their bodies came together with a shudder of pleasure as Innes grasped his shoulders, pulling his face level with hers. There was that darkness in his eyes again, that madness. But this time, she knew that it was entirely aimed at her.
Entirely hers to contend with, to contain, to control…
He wrapped his arms around her as he began to move inside of her, letting their bodies come flush together at last. He laid his head against her neck, breathing in her scent greedily as he moved inside of her, and she tangled her legs with his to draw him even deeper into her.
She longed for this closeness, for this feeling of giving herself over to him after so long of holding back.
Though holding back did not seem like something he was capable of doing, at least not in that moment.
As he moved inside of her, something seemed to overtake him, just as he had promised her.
Her heart danced in her chest; he had warned her what might happen if he lost control, but there was still a part of her that wanted to find out exactly what that would look like.
She moved against him, her hips rising to meet his as their bodies came together.
She could feel a familiar pleasure stirring inside her now, the same that she had felt when he’d had his fingers between her legs—no, better than that, deeper, something more so.
She found her pace against him, her hands sliding down to the small of his back to show him exactly what she wanted.
“Lachlan, please…”
“Aye, beg me, Innes. Beg me to release ye.”
When she felt herself tip over the edge, a cry fell from her lips. “Lachlan!”
“I got ye, lass.”
He kissed her again, but this time, it felt like he was trying to drink up the pleasure that spilled from her mouth.
He stilled his body against hers, holding himself there for a long moment, until, at last, he moved towards his own release.
She felt the groan run through his body as he held her there, their limbs still intertwined, every part of them connected.
And he made no move to pull back, as he saw no reason for it to be over so soon. She lifted her chin slightly, looking into his eyes, and found a softness there that matched the kind that had been present when he’d given her that journal.
“What do ye do to me, lass?”
She brushed a kiss against his jaw, and he locked their lips once more.
“I am far from done with ye for the night.”
She couldn’t help but giggle as he swung her around on top of him, feeling as light as air as he drew her in.
What to make of this marriage, she wasn’t quite sure yet.
But at least she knew that this was a part that she could find some enjoyment in.