The Highlander's Runaway Bride (16 page)

Magnus arrived, and he followed the man outside, where they chopped and carried in wood for the fire. Rob noticed that the man seemed very much accustomed to the task.

‘Rob, I have a question for you,' Magnus said after they finished stocking the woodpile and seeing to the cows Margaret kept in the pen behind her house.

Rob suspected he knew what the question was, but he waited on his friend. He dipped his hands in the bucket nearby and washed the dirt from his hands as he waited.

‘I want to marry your sister,' he said gruffly.

‘What does Margaret say?' Rob asked back.

‘The lass said aye.' Magnus met his gaze then and smiled. ‘I did not think she would.'

‘Because of Conall?'

‘Aye. She loved him, I ken.'

‘She did love him, Magnus, but I suspect she loves you, too.' Margaret and Conall's had been a love match, a surprise to their families.

‘Aye, she does,' he said with a laugh. ‘But marrying is a different matter, and I had my doubts. It would make her happy to have your blessing, Rob.'

‘Though neither of you need it, you have it, Magnus. I wish you both much happiness.'

‘Come inside, I want to tell her.'

Magnus led them into the cottage. Margaret and Eva were in the middle of placing bowls and cups on the table when the man ran to Margaret and lifted her from her feet.

‘He said aye, Margaret!' he said before kissing her in what Rob could only describe as a scorching fashion. The love and heat between the two was so obvious that even he could see it.

‘Mayhap this is not the best night for us to remain?' he asked, nodding at Eva.

Margaret pushed out of Magnus's arms and laughed as she smoothed her hair and her gown. ‘Nay! You will stay and eat.'

He sat next to Eva and watched as the two never quite stopped touching each other. As Magnus helped carry the stew and bread to the table, as Margaret poured ale into the cups and all through the meal, their hands were never apart for long. His own wife noticed as well, as he discovered when their own gazes met as they both looked away from a more passionate caress.

Rob was glad for them. In spite of the condition of his own marriage, he was pleased that his sister had found love again. She had been integral to the success of their opposition to their cousin when he'd seized control of the clan through betrayal and subterfuge. And she'd paid the ultimate price for her involvement—the loss of her husband, killed because of her involvement...and his.

So, if giving her his blessing or approval mattered, she had it tenfold.

The meal was filling, and the conversation good as even Eva joined in. Much of it focused on him and Margaret and then on the struggle to regain their clan and lands. She asked questions, intelligent and explicit questions, and seemed truly interested in what had happened and the how of it. And when it ended with Margaret explaining how she and Magnus had grown closer through it, Rob knew it was time to go.

‘Lady?' he said, standing and holding out his hand. ‘If you are ready, we can return to the keep and leave these two to their own company.'

‘My thanks, Margaret, for your company and counsel today. And for letting me accompany you on your visits,' Eva said. ‘And Magnus, felicitations on your upcoming marriage. May you two have every happiness.' She followed him out the door.

‘Did you walk here, lady?' he asked.

‘Aye.' Rob glanced at her face and noticed the lines of exhaustion beginning around her eyes.

‘If you speak to one of the lads in the stable, you can have a horse for your use. If you do not like the one who carried you to Glenlui, there are others you could ride.'

‘I needed to walk. It felt good to move,' she said as she looked away.

Rob took the reins and swung up on to the horse. He held his hand out to her then.

‘'Tis your choice, lady. But not now. I can see the tiredness in your face.'

‘Aye. I am tired,' she said, accepting his help.

Pulling her up, he seated her across his legs, trying to ignore the soft curves beneath his touch. Or the way she did not hold herself away from him this time.

‘We will be at the keep, and you can seek your bed in a short while,' he said, guiding the horse to the road and beginning the journey up to the keep.

His words were the last until they reached their chambers, for she nearly fell asleep against him. He held her in his arms and carried up the stairs, and she did not resist him. She must be very tired not to refuse his touch.

He reached their chambers and placed her on her feet to open the door. She lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

Rob did not recognise the chamber before him.

‘What happened here?' he asked, as his wife turned to face him.

Chapter Seventeen

‘I
thought to make it more comfortable for you,' Eva replied as Rob closed the door behind them.

Truly, she wanted to drop from exhaustion into the bed that now lay against one of the side walls rather than its original position. Placed there, it gave more room in the chamber for their trunks and even a small sitting area. Which she'd filled with two chairs claimed from a storage room below stairs after asking the steward. She would make cushions for both in the coming days.

‘No wonder you are exhausted,' he said, though she thought she might have heard a bit of approval in his voice.

‘I may have tried to do too much in one day, but I woke feeling the need to do something,' she admitted. ‘Nessa helped, as did Fergus and one or two of the servants.' He stared at her then before speaking, examining her face closely. Pointing to the chest in the corner, he asked.

‘Is that from my old chamber?'

‘'Tis,' she said, nodding and walking to it. ‘We moved your garments and cloaks from the two small trunks into this larger one.' Eva pointed out the other big change. ‘By moving the bed to there, we could put the chairs on this side of the hearth, to capture the heat on cold days.'

Her stomach felt nervous now, waiting for his reaction. What had seemed so sensible this morn now might face his displeasure. She realised now that she should have asked him before she'd made the changes.

‘I cannot believe you had enough strength to do all this, lady.' He turned around again, noticing more of the ways she'd moved or rearranged the items in the room. ‘It makes it more comfortable and gives us a place to sit.'

‘So, you do not object? I can move things back if you do not like it,' she offered.

‘Nay. Leave it as you have set it.' He walked over and sat in one of the chairs, rubbing his hands along the wooden arms of it and nodding. ‘Sit. Let me see you in your handiwork,' he said.

Eva walked to the other chair and sat down, the unexpected nervousness fluttering in her belly as she did. He seemed pleased over the changes. As she watched his face, he nodded again and smiled at her.

‘This makes the question Arabella asked me more difficult.' He stood and walked to the hearth. ‘After visiting Margaret this night, I thought I knew my own mind, but now, I am not so certain.'

‘What did Arabella ask you?' Eva clasped her hands on her lap, awaiting his reply. He strode across the chamber and crouched before her, placing his large hand over hers.

‘Why do you look as though disaster will befall you?'

‘Mayhap because it does each time someone makes a decision on my behalf?'

The words were out before she could stop them. 'Twas the truth, but what man wanted to hear that for it was a clear question of his authority. Her father would have backhanded her by now. But Rob... Eva realised that she did not fear physical harm from this man who controlled her life in a way her father never had.

‘Just so,' he said in a quiet voice before he stood and walked back to the hearth. ‘Arabella asked if we would like a cottage in the village rather than living here in the keep. With everything that has happened, I had no chance to speak to you about it.' She remembered now Arabella mentioning something about this just before going into her precipitous labour.

‘And what did you tell her?' she asked, awaiting his decision. He stared at her with wide eyes then, apparently surprised by her words. But why?

‘I told her I would discuss it with you before making a decision.' His brow raised over his left eye in question. ‘I thought you would like to have a say in this, since it affects both of us.'

A man willing to listen to a woman's, his wife's, mind on a matter under discussion was unfamiliar to her. These Mackintoshes were a strange breed. From their chief down through his men, they did things differently here than she had ever seen before. She nodded.

‘What is your view on this?' she asked.

‘At first,' he began, ‘I thought you would be happier here in the keep, with the others and Arabella near. Then, today, this night, having a meal with Margaret and Magnus in their home, I thought you might like a place in the village.' He looked at her. ‘It will be large enough to be appropriate for your status, and she will assign servants to see to your care.'

She would be happier? She might like a place? Appropriate to her status? What words were these? 'Twas almost as though he considered her more important than himself? How could that be? Her confusion must have shown on her face, for he approached once more and sat in the chair at her side.

‘I have lived here all my life and know everyone here, so the place where we live matters not to me,' he explained. ‘Here or in the village—either place would suit me.' He shifted to face her. ‘What would be your preference?'

She forced her mouth to stay closed or it would have gaped like a fish caught on a line! Her opinions and preferences never mattered before. But his interest seemed genuine, so she gave it now.

‘There is a part of me that yearns for a place of my, our, own, away from all the frenzy of the keep. But, I have only lived within one in my life and know not if I would be happy in a cottage away from it.'

‘There is something else that might influence your opinion. Since our marriage and return here, I have not yet travelled on Brodie's behalf, but I will. Although you can accompany me on some of those assignments, many times you must remain here.'

‘I may accompany you?' she asked.

Once more, her own experience was completely different from what he offered. Her mother rarely left their home, and when her father travelled for clan matters or pleasure, he left her behind—and usually brought along his leman instead. Now this man was offering a chance to do something she'd only dreamed of doing. Mackintoshes were so different than MacKays!

‘You would do that? Take me along?'

‘As I said, not always, but when it's possible and if you wish to join me...'

Eva tried not to be overwhelmed by his words and the promise in them. He'd asked her opinion and seemed sincere in his desire to know it. So...

‘All of your duties centre on your chieftain, do they not?' she asked. At his nod, she continued, ‘Then living here would be easier for you?' He nodded again, watching her in silence. ‘It would seem that remaining here would work best, then.'

‘So, you wish to live here in the keep?' he asked.

‘'Tis possible my opinion might change later, but for now, 'twould seem the right thing to do.'

‘'Twould be a waste of all your good efforts so soon after you'd done this. I will tell Arabella, or you can inform her on the morrow.'

He stood then and glanced around the chamber as though searching for something. Then he walked to the door and lifted the latch,

‘I must speak to Fergus before he retires. I will return shortly.' And then he was gone.

Eva sat in silence in the chair for a few minutes, listening to the fire crackle and considering what had happened just then.

For one thing, she believed it was the first actual conversation between them that accomplished something other than raising suspicions or mistrust.

Another thing was that they'd made a decision together. About something of importance to both of them. A decision and not an order from the man who ruled her life.

And now, just now, he'd left to give her privacy to undress and prepare for bed. Oh, he'd not said that was the reason he was leaving, but she knew it all the same. He gave her time each night to get into the bed before he entered the chamber. Some nights she pretended sleep and others she did truly sleep.

Nessa knocked and entered, seeing to removing her gown and brushing her hair, while the thoughts of the conversation just over consumed Eva. She did not remember her father ever asking her mother's counsel when making a decision. She could not remember her mother ever being bold enough to offer it.

Soon, she climbed under the bedcovers and Nessa left, extinguishing most of the candles that lit the chamber. The fire yet threw some shadows against the wall, but it would soon settle for the night, as well. Lying there, she noticed the first ache in her shoulders, back and legs. Aye, she'd done too much this day, although the results were most pleasing...

As was his reaction.

After so many confrontations and unpleasant words between them, this, this discussion and mutual agreement was a change and a welcome one at that. Is this what their future would be like? If she could finally accept it? Turning onto her side and wincing at the soreness, she thought it very well might be.

From all the things she'd heard about Rob Mackintosh from the women in his life, it might not be the marriage of fear that she'd expected after all. Though Margaret had shared some of his initial reactions to the news of the agreement reached between the Mackintosh and her own father, Eva could not blame him for them. With his habit and like of epithets and cursing, she was certain they must have been explicit. He had warned her, and Margaret had shared some of it so that Eva would not hear it elsewhere.

Now there was a chance for it to be different between them.

Her belly cramped then, reminding her of the other reason she ached so this night. Though not as bad as those she'd suffered before, these would keep her awake long into the night. Glancing across the room, she realised that Nessa had prepared a stone in the hearth but Eva had forgotten it. It would ease the pains, she knew. She'd slipped from the bed to get it when the door opened.

Rob had walked and waited for what he thought was a good amount of time before returning to the room where she would be waiting. Well, not waiting but there.

Abed.

He was not prepared for the scene before him when he pushed the door open.

She stood there between him and the fire, wearing nothing but her thin sleeping shift. The flickering light outlined the curves the gown could not hide to his sight. She bent over, reaching for something, and the enticing slope of her graceful back and arse made his hands itch to slide over the feminine form. When she stood, her braid, an unsuccessful attempt to control the riotous curls she had, swung down to just below her hip, almost an arrow pointing his attention once again to a place that he longed to caress.

The lady dropped whatever she was trying to retrieve in the hearth as she stood and met his gaze. He knew his lust showed in his eyes even while hers shone with nervousness. Not fear, though, this time.

Not fear.

That was a huge step and, even if she did not realise it, he did. Closing the door behind him, Rob stepped closer.

‘Do you need help with something?'

She blushed then, the redness rushing up her neck and into her cheeks. Pointing at the bottom of the hearth, into the area beneath the grate, she stammered a reply.

‘The large stone there,' she said, stepping back and taking her into the shadows and out of the revealing light. ‘Nessa warmed it for me.' The lady held out a piece of plaid.

Ah, he understood what this was and what it was used for. Without another word, he used one of the tools next to the fire and scooped it up, placing it carefully in the fabric and wrapped it. Holding it out to her, he watched as she could not meet his gaze then.

In spite of the courage, foolhardy though it was, that she'd shown in running away alone, he needed to remember that she was actually quite reticent about dealing with men. Her every action seemed guided by fear of men, from her father even to him. Of course, she had good cause to fear her father—he was a cold-hearted brute who used his fists to enforce his will over his daughter.

Rob waited as she climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers up around her shoulders and turning on her side. He did not miss the moan she made as she shifted her body.

‘Is it only your...?' He stumbled over the word to use. Rob did not ever remember speaking openly to a woman, other than Margaret, about a matter such as this before. It was no secret, but just not discussed.

‘Nay.' She shifted again and rustled beneath the blankets. ‘I did more this day than I have in a long time.' She shifted once more, her arse shimmying under the covers and grabbing his attention again.

Rob undressed and, after putting out the last of the candles, got into the bed. His wife did not move at all as he did. And she did not look back at him. He moved to his usual place and lay on his back, trying to ignore her nearness.

As he did each and every hour spent in a bed with her. So close and yet unavailable. Worse, unwilling. His body refused to accept the reality of their circumstances and prepared for what it wanted...and it wanted relentlessly. Relentlessly without pause since he'd first rescued her from the cave and knew she was his to claim.

Rob turned onto his side and stared at her back. Mayhap his body was remembering his decision not to claim her until she'd bled, showing she did not carry another's bastard? He'd not thought on it, for he feared she had. But now...

Now he knew she did not.

She moved once more, shifting and trying to stretch, but the moan caught his attention. Leaning up on his hand, he edged closer.

‘If you are in pain, I know a remedy,' he offered. Fighting and training often led to pain or muscle cramps. And though in his experience, what he offered her now often led to other pleasures, it did not have to.

‘Does it involve horse liniment?' she whispered back. He barked out a laugh at her question and then a few of his favourite words.

‘Am I damned forever for that? It worked, did it not? Eased the pain in your ankle and foot?'

She half turned to him then and shook her head.

‘I was not damning you for it. I was just enquiring.' There was a lightness in her tone, a bit of humour in her voice, and he smiled.

‘Nay, lady. It does not involve my sister's ointment for horses.'