Chapter Twenty-One
Laird Morgan Gunn glanced down at his wife, sleeping in his arms. She was soft and warm, and he resented the fact that his first time watching her sleep was not in a bed after a rousing session of tupping.
He’d had so many life changes in the past few days, his head was spinning. In all the time he’d been a patient at Castle Leod it had never occurred to him that his uncle was dead.
He’d heard that Megan had been rescued by her husband and was now safe at home. The farewell the two had at the gate this morning certainly proved that Gregory would never have allowed an annulment, even if he had to defy the king.
And now he had a wife. He glanced down at the bundle of woman in his arms. His decision to marry Emma instead of leaving her behind may have been a hasty decision, but one he hadn’t regretted from the time the words came out of his mouth.
Since he was now Laird of Clan Gunn, he needed an heir. He had to secure his position as quickly as possible and producing an heir was part of that. So he’d needed a wife, and to have a wife like Emma was more than he’d ever hoped for.
Emma shifted and stirred and then settled down. He moved the blanket that had slid from her shoulder back up.
He would have no problem producing heirs with this woman. Right now, what frustrated him more than anything was being unable to have the wedding night that both he and his wife deserved in order to produce that heir.
He sighed, and this time he was the one to shift because between the slight throbbing of the healing wound in his leg, and slight throbbing in his ribs, the softness of his wife, and hardness of his cock, the ride was becoming quite difficult.
A few hours later, Gregory rode up alongside the wagon and nodded to a sleeping Emma. “Ye made a quick decision about marrying the lass to bring her along. Ye must have a lot of faith in her healing.”
Morgan grunted.
“Is that the only reason ye wanted her to come with us? Marrying her ’twas a big step.”
Morgan shrugged.
“The way ye look at her makes me think there is more going on besides healing.” Gregory’s smirk began to annoy him.
“What I do is my business.” He pulled Emma closer and once again straightened the falling plaid.
The roar of laughter coming from Gregory was enough to tighten Morgan’s muscles as if expecting a fight. Luckily Gregory pulled back, though he continued to smirk as he began to speak with one of his warriors.
Just then Emma shifted, and opened her eyes to look up at him. He didn’t want to react to those deep-hazel eyes with their long lashes, but his body was not paying attention to his mind.
“Was I asleep long?” She quickly sat up. When he groaned, she said, “I’m sorry, is yer leg troubling ye? I told ye not to ride. I’m sure yer muscles are verra sore now. Did ye take a nap? I have some medicine with me to help yer pain, which will also help ye to sleep.”
Annoyed at his wife, but entertained at the same time, he leaned forward, cupped her chin, and kissed her until she melted against him and let out a slight moan.
He drew back and studied her. “I am fine, wife. Truthfully, a tad tired, but we will be stopping for the night verra soon.”
She nodded and faced forward.
*
Once again Emma thought about the night coming.
Would Morgan expect his husbandly rights?
If so, would they have some privacy? Since he was so careful about none of the men escorting her to take care of business, she didn’t think he would embarrass her by having a wedding night in the middle of nowhere with all the men circling them.
She didn’t have a lot of time to think on it since only about a short time later, Gregory held up his hand to stop the men behind him. “We will stay here for the night.”
Once they came to a rolling stop, Morgan helped Emma out and turned to her. “If ye go to the other wagon, in front of yer trunk, are several loaves of bread. While ye pull them out, the men will fish and hunt for our supper.”
She tried to stop herself, but she did glance at his leg. “Are ye hunting, too?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Nay, lass, I doona want to stumble with a bow and arrow in my hand. I’ll get the fire started so it’s ready when the men return.”
Emma grinned back. “Well done, Laird.”
He swung her into his arms, wrapping them around her body and pulled her close, to whisper. “I will make sure we have our own private space tonight.”
She swallowed, hearing the answer to the question she wondered about earlier.
So, aye, there would be a wedding night.
She just wished she had something special to wear.
God’s toes, she would have to remove everything except her shift.
She giggled nervously. Of course, most likely that would go, too.
Emma took the opportunity to gather some greens and savory herbs she saw growing in the clearing and along its edges while Morgan built the fire, a very good one, which was blazing by the time the men returned from their hunting. Several had fish and two others had rabbits.
She began to help one of the warriors clean the fish and meat and prepare it to be cooked. He was a young lad, but the size of his muscles and height left no doubt that he could acquit himself on the battlefield.
“I appreciate yer help. Though I have to admit, I’m quite good at cooking.” He offered her a shy smile.
“I’m glad to assist you. What is yer name?”
“Kevin, my lady.”
Emma sucked in a breath at the lad’s remark. Yes, as wife to the Gunn Laird, she was now Lady Gunn. How strange that felt. It also reminded her that she would have duties besides healing when they arrived at Clyth Castle.
As she and the lad worked on preparing the meal, she thought about all she’d seen Beth do at Castle Leod.
However, Beth had been trained to be a laird’s wife from birth, just as Emma had been trained as a healer.
Born to a widow who had earned her keep by healing the sick and injured, she’d been given her knowledge by her ma.
Now she had given herself something else to worry about: being a wife and being the chatelaine of the castle.
“’Tis ready,” Kevin announced and the men all gathered around, their slices of bread filled with meat and fish. She ate the fish, along with the greens she’d gathered while waiting for the men to return with their catches.
“Why are ye eating grass, wife?” Morgan took the seat next to her where she rested against a fallen log.
“’Tis edible plants. They are good for ye.” She looked over at his meal—bread piled with fish and meat. “’Twould help yer recovery to eat more of the plants. Although meat is certainly a good meal when ye are building up yer muscles.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Yet ye kept giving me broth when I was injured.”
“No’ true. I only gave ye the broth when ye had the fever and were recovering from it.”
They continued with their meal as gloaming arrived.
Although she’d had a nap, she still felt sluggish and was anxious to seek her bed.
Then she looked over at Morgan who was speaking with Gregory, most likely about the next day’s journey.
If she asked where they were sleeping and retired now, could she be asleep before her husband joined her?
She sighed. Even if she was, he would surely awaken her. Despite her nervousness, she was interested in what would happen when things went beyond kissing.
Morgan seemed to be able to read her thoughts because he said, “Lass, ye are looking tired. I had the men set up a tent I brought with us which they put up at the edge of the clearing. Ye can wait for me there, I willna be long.”
She looked around, and despite having been in the area cooking the meal, she hadn’t noticed the tent. It did sort of blend in with the foliage, though.
Her mouth dry, she nodded and stood, brushing off her skirts. Morgan took her hand to pulled her down close and whispered in her ear. “Take off yer clothes. There is a feather bed in there, and a few wraps ye can warm yerself with.”
Emma gasped. “Take everything off?”
Morgan grinned. “Nay. Ye can leave on yer shift.” He paused. “For now.” He winked and she scurried away.