Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Who?” Arthur barked as he rushed forward, the word coming out much more forcefully than he had intended.
When he reached Marissa, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders. She was trembling like a leaf, her eyes wide with panic as they settled on him.
“He’s one of Eric’s men,” she explained.
“Are ye certain?” Freya asked, appearing at their side a moment later.
Marissa’s haunted eyes flicked to her sister as she gave her a shaky nod.
“It doesnae make sense,” Freya murmured. “Why would Eric want to kill ye? I thought he’d stopped tryin’ to pursue ye years ago?”
At the mention of a man pursuing her, Arthur pieced together who it was they were talking about.
“This Eric,” he began. “He was the one who stalked ye?”
Marissa turned her gaze back on him. A muscle ticked in her jaw as she nodded.
“Why would he send someone to kill ye if he kens ye were gettin’ married? Especially after he stopped pursuin’ ye?” Michael asked.
The question was directed at Marissa, but it wasn’t her who answered. Instead, it was Abigail’s voice, ringing loud and clear from the corridor behind them.
“Because he didnae stop pursuin’ her,” she said.
Footsteps echoed off the stone walls as she came to stand next to them. She was staring at Marissa, who seemed to be intent on not looking in her sister’s direction.
“Did he, Marissa?” Abigail pressed, her eyes flinty as she regarded her. “Do ye want to tell them now? To tell them how even when news spread about…” She paused for a moment, and a panicked look crossed Marissa’s face.
Does she ken about the farce? Does she ken that Marissa thought she’d made me up?
If she did, then Arthur could understand Marissa’s panic. They weren’t married yet. If the rest of her family found out, there was every possibility they would withdraw their support, which he knew would devastate her.
Thankfully, Abigail soldiered on, her gaze flickering pointedly to him.
“When news spread about yer courting,” she continued, “he didnae stop. He kept sendin’ ye letters and gifts, tellin’ ye that he would follow ye to the ends of the earth if that was what it took.”
“What do ye mean?” Freya asked, her voice waspish and filled with disbelief. “Ye told us that he’d stopped, that he had transferred his affections elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry that I lied,” Marissa stammered. “But things with Arthur were so new.”
Abigail snorted a laugh, confirming what Arthur had suspected—she knew about the farce. But Marissa ignored her entirely, continuing to address Freya.
“I didnae want to worry ye,” she explained. “So when his letters and gifts didnae cease after one year, I sent him one in return. I told him about the Laird I planned on marryin’. And I thought that would be enough. But the letters kept comin’.”
“Is that why ye always insisted that I be with ye when ye went to the market?” Cody asked, suddenly incredulous.
Marissa’s cheeks turned pink as she nodded.
“I didnae want to go alone,” she mumbled, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“Some of his letters proved that he was watchin’ me.
He would mention that he saw me at the market, that he saw me sendin’ letters.
So, I kenned that if ye were with me, he wouldnae act. ”
Freya’s eyebrows knitted together in concern, a hurt look flashing across her face.
“But why did ye nae tell us?” she asked. “Why did ye let us believe that he’d stopped or simply grown bored?”
“Ye had enough on yer minds. And, as long as I was with Cody or at home, he did nothin’ but write me letters.”
Anger surged through Arthur. He wondered for the briefest of moments how the woman he had come to respect and care for so deeply over the last couple of days could have been so stupid.
How could she have not told her family? Especially when someone had been following her every move.
But a quick glance at the faces around him told him that he was not the only one feeling that way. And he would not pile that onto her.
“It nay longer matters why ye didnae tell them,” he said.
Marissa’s eyes flicked to his, bright with relief as he continued speaking.
“I think we all ken by now that nae tellin’ ye all was a mistake.
But we cannae change the past. And if he tries to do anythin’ else movin’ forward…
” A dark laugh pulled itself from deep within his throat as savage delight rushed through him.
“Well, I would love to take me time showin’ him exactly what happens to people who try to take what is mine. ”
Freya and Michael both nodded. Abigail clenched her jaw, but said nothing.
After a few moments, they all agreed that they should retire to their chambers for the evening. There would be much to discuss come morning, and they could all do with a little rest.
Arthur extended his arm toward Marissa as everyone filed down the corridors that led to their chambers.
“Why did ye defend me?” Marissa asked hesitantly, once everyone had left. “I could tell by the look on yer face that ye agreed with them, that ye thought me nae tellin’ them about Eric’s continued advances was daft. But ye still defended me.”
Arthur stared at her, his arm still extended.
“Because ye’re goin’ to be me wife,” he said simply.
“And I meant what I said. What’s done cannae be undone.
And whether this Eric likes it or nae, whether yer family likes it or nae, ye are mine to protect now.
And they willnae be gettin’ to ye anytime soon.
So there was nay use harpin’ on about it. ”
She sighed, some of the tension seeming to leave her shoulders, before accepting his arm. He guided her through the empty halls toward their bedchamber, and with each step, he could feel more and more of the tension leaving her.
“Ye were goin’ to say somethin’ else,” Marissa said, just as they arrived at the door to their chambers.
The door gave a loud creak as Arthur pushed it open before stepping aside, allowing her to enter first.
“When was I goin’ to say somethin’ else?” he asked when they were tucked safely within the walls of their room, the door firmly shut behind them.
It was dim. The fire in the hearth had clearly been lit some time ago, dwindling now to a weak, dull flame. Arthur strode forward, grabbing logs from the basket beside the fireplace and adding them to it.
He focused on coaxing the fire back to life as Marissa continued to speak.
“When we were walkin’ away from the cèilidh,” she explained. “Ye were tellin’ me about Joseph and how he ended up in yer life. And ye looked like ye were goin’ to tell me somethin’ else, right before the knife came flyin’ at us.”
Arthur paused. The entire time Marissa had been speaking, he could hear her moving about the room. The swish of fabric and the rustle of her skirts conjured images of her slowly undressing.
“It is nothin’ that cannae be said another day,” he answered honestly.
He had been about to tell her something, that much was true. But it was something he had never told another living soul. And, truthfully, it was something he was too tired to delve into at that moment.
The fire gave a loud pop as the new logs caught flame, the heat and light growing before he rose to his feet. Turning to face the rest of the room, he found Marissa standing near the threshold.
The sight of her made his mouth go dry.
Marissa had shed the many layers of her dress, leaving her in nothing but the linen shift beneath. She’d tugged her hair out of her braids, leaving it wild and falling around her face.
“I still cannae believe he sent someone after me.”
Her words were hesitant, filled with all the fear Arthur was certain had been coursing through her all night. They were like cold water splashed over his desire.
“I’ll protect ye,” he said, holding her gaze and willing her to believe him. “I willnae let anyone hurt ye. I didnae let the man that Eric sent hurt ye. And if he sends a thousand, nae a single one of them will be able to harm so much as a hair on that bonnie head of yers.”
He walked forward as he spoke. With every step he took toward her, her eyes seemed to darken.
Reaching forward, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her into him. He’d meant only to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her.
But as Marissa pressed her body against his, he heard her sharp intake of breath. He felt the way she arched her back, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest.
Arthur hooked his thumb below her chin, guiding her gaze up to his. Where fear had been only a moment ago, a rampant desire was now blazing in the depths of those brown eyes.
Immediately, he hardened beneath his kilt.
Alright, ye brute. Surely ye’ll go and scare her off now.
But Marissa was not scared. Instead, her breath started coming in short, shallow gasps.
Arthur looked down and caught her nipples pebbling beneath the thin fabric of her shift.
“Remember how ye said ye wouldnae touch me until I asked,” she said, her voice low and husky.
Arthur nodded, clenching his jaw. “And I willnae,” he answered, grinding out the words as he held himself back. “Nay matter how much I might want to, kitten. Ye dinnae have to worry about that.”
Her mouth ticked up at the corner. “And what if I want ye to? What if I want ye to touch me?”
Arthur’s breath hitched.
She doesnae mean that. Someone tried to take her life tonight, and she’s nae thinkin’ clearly.
As if Marissa could read his thoughts, she stood on her tiptoes. Her small hands rested on his cheek, guiding his gaze back down to hers.
“I need ye,” she said in a voice husky with desire. “I need ye to help me forget. I need ye to help me feel alive. Can ye do that?”
He groaned. It was taking almost more strength than he possessed not to throw her on the bed. Not to ravage her.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’re sayin’,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Marissa chuckled low in her throat. “I ken exactly what I’m sayin’. And I ken exactly what I want. Ye said ye wouldnae touch me until I begged ye. So, that’s exactly what I’m doin’. Touch me. Please.”