Chapter 11
The morning light pried Magnus from a sleep so deep he hadn’t even dreamt.
The dryness of his mouth reminded him of the fever and before he so much as opened his eyes, he assessed the feel of his body.
He wasn’t sweaty or hot like he had been, so he could safely assume the fever had passed.
When his eyes opened, the first thing he did was raise the affected arm into the air.
His bandaged fist curled and uncurled, testing the pain of the cut and the strength of his arm.
The cut still stung, but it felt like the strength had returned.
It seemed the worst of the poisoning was over.
And then he became acutely aware of something warm and soft lying next to him on the other side.
Peering down, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of a head of blonde hair curled into his ribs.
Hannah was starting to stir and he watched in silence, unable to believe that she was… cuddling him.
Her eyes lifted to him and if he hadn’t already been breathless, he would have then.
Even on their wedding day, Hannah had never been so beautiful.
Sleep clung to her every detail, the way her eyes were bright but unfocused and half-lidded, her hair messy, her tongue licking the corners of her mouth from thirst. And his eyes stayed focused on her mouth then, unable to shake the urge to wet her mouth for her.
He was willing to try to, even if his own mouth was dry.
“Good morning,” she said softly, sleepiness making her voice a little raspy.
His hand rested on her cheek as he pulled her closer with the arm that was already wrapped around her. “Morning, bonnie,” he murmured before crashing his lips into hers.
It was as though his mouth literally watered at the feel of her, the tender morning kiss turning into something more heated and wetter within just a few moments. Magnus absently wondered if she had any idea the effect she had on him, how the slightest graze of her lips made him feel almost primal.
The need pulling at his senses only grew stronger as she kissed him back with fervor, her plush lips crashing against his in a perfect rhythm.
She was draped over his bare torso as they kissed, the shape of her gently pressed into his firm body.
He held back a groan of joy as his hands traveled from the middle of her back to the dip of her waist and then to her wide hips.
When she pulled back to take a breath, her lips swollen and her eyes gleaming with lust, Magnus didn’t waste the opportunity to dip his head and kiss her neck.
Hannah moaned under the attention of his tongue as he grazed along her pulse.
The desire for more burned bright in him, but he truly meant to be a man of his word.
He wouldn’t take her in carnal desires until she asked for him.
“Magnus,” she murmured as he sucked the skin of her shoulder, his teeth nipping at the skin.
His pulse raced at the sound of his name on her lips in that breathy, needy tone.
It took all the self-restraint he had not to roll over on top of her and give her everything he had to give, in the most primal of ways.
His hand gripped at her hip, his thumb brushing along the jut of the bone underneath—and she shivered at the touch.
And Magnus began to wonder just how much longer he could keep his word.
Knock. Knock.
He cursed under his breath at the interruption, his lips pulling back from her shoulder. His eyes a mixture of annoyance and lust. “What is it?” he snapped in the direction of the door.
“M’Laird, breakfast is served and yer horse is ready. Shall I help ye get dressed?” a servant called inside.
“I can dress myself,” he called back. He laid his forehead against her shoulder and took a deep breath before calling. “We will be down shortly. Make sure someone is sent to help Lady Black dress. But give us a few minutes before they come in.”
The footsteps grew distant and Magnus sighed, closing his eyes as he steadied himself. It had been a long time, maybe never, that he had been so moved by his own damn desire like an untried lad. They had to get moving so there was no time to give into temptation even if he wanted to.
When he sat up, he saw a questioning look on Hannah’s face. “Where are we going?” she asked, the word ‘we’ was rather pointed. He didn’t blame her, as she hadn’t any reason to truly trust him yet—even if they were starting to desire one another.
“To the village. It’s good for us to go ahead and forge good relationships with the people of the clan. They need to properly meet their Lady as well,” he explained simply, though there was a slight tightness to his voice from the unspent desire still simmering in his flesh.
His gaze met hers and he saw a flash of defiance cross her face and he had to stop himself from scoffing in amusement.
Of course she would fight him on it, even though she likely wanted to go, because he hadn’t asked.
“Dear wife,” he purred, putting an arm around her waist. “Would ye like to go with me to town today?”
Her cheeks burned and her eyes darted away from him. “Very well, it’s not like I have anything else to do.”
Magnus held in a laugh and he felt his heart flutter, a sensation that was wholly new to him.
Was he getting fond of his little bride?
He had always wanted to possess her, to have her… But finding her demeanor adorable was bewildering to him. “Verra good. Ye can use the dressing room. I’ll ready myself out here,” he said and nodded toward the formal dressing room door.
Hannah stood from the bed and he watched with heated eyes as she sauntered across the wooden floor, watching the slight flow of her shift hanging on her curves with each step. Magnus had to resist the urge to groan again.
After he collected himself and dressed in breeches, a loose shirt, a tartan sash, and a cloak, he headed out of the castle; though not before letting the staff know to pack the breakfast for them to take with them.
He needed to get moving, in need of distraction that wasn’t just him and Hannah alone in a room together.
He petted his stallion as he waited, muttering to himself that he wasn’t this weak of a man and to get ahold of himself.
When the door opened again, he turned to see Hannah heading toward him.
How was it that she always seemed to render him breathless?
She was a sight to behold as she walked his way, the crisp morning air turning her cheeks pink, contrasting sharply to the paleness of her skin and the silver scar on her face.
She wore a thick woolen dress in a navy shade that should have been dull on anyone, but on her, the blue was dark yet vibrant in a way that made her pale eyes look even bluer.
And he found himself marveling at her hair, many tiny braids woven and pulled back to the base of her head where it joined one larger braid; it was impressive the servants had done that in such a short amount of time.
Before him was a proper Scottish Lady that he got to call his wife, and his heart tugged at the notion.
“I thought we were having breakfast?” she asked as she came to a stop just a stride away.
A servant handed him a small bundle that he placed inside the saddlebag. “I had them pack it. I thought it best to get moving,” he explained casually; which wasn’t a lie. But neither was it the entire truth.
He gestured for her to come nearer and when she did, he took hold of her waist and lifted her onto the saddle, eliciting a soft gasp from her that did things to his mind and his body despite his efforts.
When he swung up behind her in a fluid motion, and his chest was brought to her back, he held in a swear.
It was starting to grate on him how weak he was for her this morning.
Perhaps it was the simple fact that he had woken up with her in his arms and that somehow imprinted her on the forefront of his mind for the entire day.
It had to be, as the Laird who had spent a great deal of his life on the back of a warhorse, was distracted by how warm and soft the Lady in front of him was.
And she smelled of rosehips and lavender, completely overwhelming his every thought.
He tightened one arm around her waist and kept her tight against him while the other grabbed the reins and nudged the horse into motion. And while they rode toward the castle gates, he couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be a long, long day.