Ruthless (43 page)

The rest of the ceremony was over swiftly.
When the priest nodded, Magnus turned Muriele to him and kissed her
gently.

The kiss was soft and pleasant. The heat
coming from Magnus' body spread welcome warmth through her limbs,
reminding her of standing before a baking oven on a cold day. She
took a deep breath of his familiar sensual pine scent and
sighed.

Chief Angus welcomed her as his
daughter-by-law by hugging her and kissing her cheek. Graemme, too,
did the same, but his kiss was more intense. No doubt to tease his
brother? Esa hugged her and Grunda cradled her as she would a
youngling.

When she said, "You did the right thing. He
will protect you always," Muriele jolted. 'Twas Grunda's voice
she'd heard during the ceremony.

Magnus and the crowd flowed swiftly back to
the keep, for the wind flowing over Loch Naver began to turn the
day chilly. There was much laughter as everyone hurried up the
steps into the warmth of the great hall.

From the moment Magnus had put her mother's
wedding ring on her finger, she had felt a calm peace flow through
her. Lord Colban's ring looked right on Magnus' competent hands.
She shivered at the thought it might have graced Feradoch's elegant
finger before she found out what a snake he was.

Tables and benches filled the great hall.
White clothes and flowers were at every long table, silver
trenchers and goblets served the knights and guests while warriors
and archers were to use bread trenchers. Food was plentiful and
prepared with the utmost care, much as she had known at
Blackbriar.

Magnus must be pleased, also, for a soft
smile lifted the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled. The
evening flew with entertainment between each of the courses brought
to the tables. She felt a little uncertain of herself from having
partaken of so many toasts from well-wishers.

Muriele frowned as flashes of memory at her
meeting with his family several days ago. She heard herself
yelling, "Nay." Unease pricked at her mind. Why had she given in so
easily? He had left her without a word of his feelings a year ago.
Had she given up her pride to be with him? Or was her fear of Olaf
and Feradoch the prime reason?

"'Tis time for ye to go above, Muriele."

Hearing Magnus husky whisper in her ear,
panic near overcome her.

Flashes of the rapacious look on Feradoch's
face, the hate in his eyes, came back to haunt her. What if with
the scars he'd added to her flesh, Magnus found her back unsightly?
She clutched the table, her knuckles whitened. Her right hand slid
slowly toward Magnus' eating knife.

His hand covered hers and drew it away. He
gripped her chin and turned her face to him.

"Go above, wife."

She didn't want to go above. When she did, he
would follow her. Fear tightened her chest. If she displeased him,
he would turn on her.

It would be more torturous than a beating by
Feradoch.

Magnus felt her fear and patted her hand. Her
father's ring was very noticeable on his finger. She stared at it,
and somehow, it must have reassured her for her hands relaxed. He
stood and helped her to rise. When Esa and Grunda led her from the
room, he sighed with relief.

What if she had screamed "Nay!" as she had
yesterday? Or, worse yet, pulled a dagger on him in front of their
guests? It sickened him to think he would have to force Muriele to
make their marriage complete.

No one knew how much time they had before
Chief Olaf and his army arrived. In order for their wedding to be
legal, the priest must verify they had consummated their vows. If
not, Feradoch could claim prior possession to her.

Graemme came to sit beside him and grinned.
"Never have I seen ye so tense about bedding a lass, brother!"

"Ye dinna know my new wife very well." Magnus
snorted then shook his head in shame. "She has drawn a dagger on me
more than once. Ye'd be tense as well if ye had to search for
weapons afore ye bedded yer bride."

"Hm. 'Twould be a bit awkward," he admitted.
"How will ye go about it?"

"While we were being wed, Gille searched the
room and through her things. He took them to Sweyn for
safekeeping." He grunted and shook his head. "She had acquired a
veritable arsenal."

"I canna imagine the beautiful lass being
able to wield a blade," his father said.

"Get her angry or cause her to fear ye and
ye'll see for yerself."

"Surely she couldn't have concealed any on
her person before the ceremony? Ye should have naught to worry
about," Graemme said.

"Ha! She wears a blade strapped to each leg.
If she is naked, it will be easier. If not, I will hold her in my
arms and kiss her, all the while smoothing my hands over her
body."

"And if ye find nothing?" His father
asked.

"It doesn't mean she is not prepared. When
she isn't looking, I will check beneath her pillow and the floor
under the bed."

Graemme tried to smother a laugh, but it came
out more of a cough. "The night will nigh be gone by the time ye
swive her."

"Ye wouldna think it so funny if ye were in
his shoes," Angus said. "Have ye not thought the last time his
bride was to be bedded, the man rejected and shamed her? He beat
her without mercy?"

Graemme nodded. "Aye. Ye will have to go easy
with her. Ye canna let her memories cause her to fight ye."

"Well, son, you had best complete your duty
afore daylight comes." Angus patted his shoulder and smiled.

"Aye, and change yer scowl to a smile afore
ye enter yer chamber." Graemme had lost his teasing smile. His face
was serious now.

o0o

God knew he was more than ready to take
Muriele. All this long day, his loins had been afire. But it was
important he took her in the right way. If he came to her in
weakness, their marriage would begin with her having the upper
hand.

He shook his head as he ascended the
stairwell. He would be gentle, but firm. She must know from the
start she was now his property to do with as he liked. If he didn't
want her to go about with a blade strapped to her leg, then she
would not. He needed to be keep her on a tight leash or she would
never obey him.

It was unthinkable!

His hand was on the latch afore he knew it.
He pressed his lips together and opened the door. His chamber at
Clibrick was thrice the size of Kinbrace's. A peat fire burned in
the hearth giving light to half the room, the rest was in shadows.
His bed stood at the far wall between two massive windows with
wooden shutters pulled tightly closed. It was overlarge, giving
more pillows under which to hide a weapon. He did not require much
in a room other than his bed, a table with two chairs, a washstand,
and a large armchair by the hearth. He had ordered a cabinet made
to hold her clothes instead of pegs on the walls.

Muriel and Esa stood beside the bed. Esa had
her arm around Muriele's shoulder and patted it. She gave him a
stern glance.

By Lucifer's snotty nose! Did she think he
would enter and throw Muriele on the bed to have his way? Although,
that's what his tarse was begging him to do.

Grunda smiled at him. "I brought the wedding
mead yer father's Alewife made for ye." She poured a goodly amount
into two pewter goblets tooled with wedding knots. She put one hand
to hover over each goblet, threw back her head and shut her eyes.
Wind whipped through the room, though the door and shutters stood
closed. In the strange voice she used when seeing the future, she
spoke.

"Harm was done to the daughter of Ragnhild's
blood. It will be as she vowed. Clans will suffer. Fathers will
fight sons. Brothers will fight brothers. All is split asunder,
never to be as it was afore!

"Yer body will crave only yer wife from this
night hence. She will swell with yer first son within a moon's
passing. Make no mistakes in the days to come else ye will lose
all."

"Enough of yer foretelling, old woman. Yer
words are enough to shrivel even a cock made of steel. If 'tis sons
ye want me to plant, be gone with ye." His voice was harsh with
impatience.

As Grunda cackled with laughter, the strange
turbulence stopped.

"Come, Esa, we had best leave afore he
shrivels to naught but a nub."

After the women left, Magnus stared at
Muriele as if he had never seen her before. His face grew taut with
desire and his body near pulsated with the need to lie atop
her.

"The deed must be done tonight. We can
celebrate our wedding in two ways. If ye fight me, I will use
force. If ye dinna, I will be gentle as possible for one of my
size."

He stared into her eyes. Did he try to read
her thoughts?

"Ye remember when we had bed sport afore?
Never did I hurt ye and I dinna want to ever cause ye pain. When
the time comes, I will cause Feradoch to regret every harsh touch
on ye."

She watched his eyes, his face, and read
naught but honesty there. This last caused her to relax. She had no
need for the blades hid beneath her pillow and under the bed, nor
the short sword under the feather pallet. She'd hidden them afore
the ceremony.

Grunda had made her a sleeveless robe made of
the thinnest green fabric. It had no ties, no way to hold it
together except her hands. She glanced down and realized though
they were on the far side of the bed from the hearth, every line of
her body was visible to Magnus' dark eyes.

She fumbled for the opening and pulled each
side across herself, trying to be less visible. Magnus shook his
head. Slowly. Then came to put his hands atop hers. His thumbs
flicked her fingers, letting her know to let the robe go. She
did.

Her skin prickled, became sensitive. She
stiffened, not wanting him to remove the robe and demand she show
her body to him like Feradoch had done.

He sensed her thoughts, for he dropped her
hands and turned to the table. Picking up a goblet of mead in each
hand, he held one out to her. She took it, though she had downed
more wine at the table today than she ever had. With all the
different courses, it had been a long meal.

He drank, his eyes darkening to midnight as
he watched her over the rim. She gulped half of hers, wondering if
she should speak. Perhaps not, for the only word repeating in her
head was "Nay."

She doubted it would cause him to be
gentle.

Was he reading her mind? His gaze bored into
hers so intently she thought mayhap he could.

He put his cup down. She backed up, expecting
him to seize her. Instead, he took off his scarlet robe and tossed
it across the back of the armchair. He kept his gaze on her, his
movements slow.

The braids at each of his temples seemed to
make him even more commanding. He looked natural with them, like
they belonged beside his face. When had he taken off the gold chain
belt and his sword? She blinked.

Magnus didn't attempt to take off his silver
and gold tunic. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his
boots. When he lifted one leg to pull off his boot, she saw his
heavy balls resting between his thighs. Only the base of his prick
showed. She blushed, knowing the silky top was looking toward his
head and not his feet.

"Would ye refill our mead, Wife?"

Muriele hesitated. The word 'wife' had sent a
warm spot to her belly. But to do as he asked, she would have to
turn her back to him.

"Please, my wife?"

He'd tended her back in the forest. He
wouldn't be surprised at how much uglier it must now be. She filled
the cups, but before she could turn and hand his to him, the warmth
of his body near touched hers. Her belly quivered. The empty spot
between her legs contracted, craving for him to fill it. She
squeezed her legs together trying to ignore it.

Magnus hands rubbed down from her shoulders
to her fingertips, caressing her with their warmth. Pressing
himself against her back, he took her hands, crossed them beneath
her breasts with his as he wrapped her in his arms. She felt his
warm breath on her ear as he moved his head down to brush his cheek
against hers.

She twisted in his arms. Took his braids in
her hands and pulled his face down so she could feel the smoothness
of his bare skin and the soft hair framing his upper lip and chin.
'Twas like his lips were within a small frame, accenting them. They
looked very sensual today. His kiss proved soft and inviting. He
opened his mouth and gently probed her lips with his tongue. She
parted them for him to enter. The deeper the kiss, the harder she
pulled on his hair. Finally, he lifted his lips.

"Let us drink the mead and gaze out at the
loch. 'Tis beautiful in moonlight." His voice sounded harsh with
passion.

He handed her a cup, led her to the window
and opened the wooden shutter. The evening breeze blew in, but she
didn't care. It truly was a beautiful sight. Without speaking, they
drank the mead. She felt his gaze on her and wondered why he didn't
look at the water? 'Twas silly of her. He'd seen it in the
moonlight many times.

When had he taken their empty cups? While she
still stood at the window, he went over to bank the fire then came
back. He closed the shutter, and in the dim light, she watched his
shadow as he removed his tunic and dropped it.

Her breathing quickened. She wished she could
see his magnificent body. He padded softly over to her. His thumbs
lowered her robe off her shoulders and arms and let it slither down
to her feet. She took a deep breath, remembering all the nights of
lovemaking they'd enjoyed at Kinbrace.

Muriele was more than ready for him when he
began kissing her. He picked her up and coaxed her legs around his
hot body. She clung to his shoulders and her breath caught as he
lifted her buttocks and both hands started playing with her sex.
One hand squeezed her buttock while the fingers of his other
explored around her nether lips until her juices began to flow.