The MacKinnon's Bride (29 page)

Caught up within their exhilaration, Page
blinked away the sting of tears. Iain’s laughter at his son’s
excitement made her heart swell. What must it feel like to be so
loved? Jesu! To love so much in return?

So constricted was her chest suddenly, Page
could scarce take a breath. In profile, Iain MacKinnon’s smile was
stunning, but when he suddenly turned to look at her and winked,
she thought her heart would leap from her breast.

“
What d’ ye think, lass?”
he asked her.

Page swallowed, and shook her head, unable
to respond with her heart so firmly entrenched within her
throat.

“
Och, lass,” he said, and
maneuvered his mount nearer. Gripping Malcom’s legs, he leaned as
far toward her as he was able with his wriggling son seated high
atop his shoulders. “Dinna look so glum,” he bade her, smiling.
“They’ll no’ bite, mo chridhe.”

Page wasn’t so certain. She lifted a brow,
telling him so without words.

He chuckled and turned to Angus, “Stay wi’
her, Angus,” he commanded.

The two shared an indecipherable look,
making Page feel as though she’d missed something of import. She
tried to recall what Iain had said, and couldn’t. Auld Angus
nodded, and Page watched, still contemplating their silent
exchange, as Iain rode to the fore of his men.

Angus watched him as well, she noted, his
expression one of astonished bemusement. “My heart, you say?” the
old man said to Iain, and shook his head. He cast her a meaningful
glance, his lips curving softly as he turned away.

His heart, what? Did it ail him? Page
wondered.

Though she could scarce share Angus’s mirth,
she couldn’t suppress her own smile at the obvious clamor father
and son elicited merely with their presence. She never would have
guessed by the casual ease with which they all treated each other
on the journey home, nor by the way they seemed so inclined to
quarrel amongst themselves. While it was apparent they respected
the MacKinnon and yielded to him always, they were unafraid to
voice their convictions and stand apart. Seeing the furor over his
return, it was more than evident these people truly valued their
laird, and she couldn’t help but consider the differences between
Iain and her father.

Her father’s men walked behind him always,
skulking shadows ready to snatch his mantle lest it fall to the
ground. But when they thought there were no ears about to hear
them, they disparaged him to one another. Page had never blamed
them. So oft they voiced the very sentiments she wished she had
nerve enough to express.

“
Wait until you see her!”
Broc said, drawing up beside her.

“
Who?” Page asked with a
wistful sigh, her eyes still drinking in the sight of Iain riding
with his son perched high upon his shoulders. She had the deepest
yearning suddenly to be at his side, to see the smile of pleasure
he wore upon his face, to know what it felt like to be cherished as
he seemed to be.

Jesu, but she did know. He’d given her the
briefest taste of it while she was in his arms, and she wanted to
be there again.

“
Merry Bells,” Broc
clarified, and Page blinked, trying to determine what in God’s
creation he was speaking of.

“
She’s a verra smart dog,”
he said, and Page choked upon a giggle. She concealed her amusement
with a discreet clearing of her throat. She turned and found Angus
smiling to himself. Jesu, but she thought she knew precisely what
brought such a devilish turn to the old man’s lips. Broc, dear God,
was relentless in the telling of his dog tales! In truth, if she
hadn’t begun to like the behemoth so blessed much, she might have
choked him long ere now for his incessant rambling over the
beast!

He sat there, scratching his head, and
searching the crowd.

“
There she is!” he said
suddenly, spying the dog, and then decreed, “Watch
this!”

Page watched as he bade her. Following his
gaze, she located the black and white spotted dog standing beside a
young child who was busily scratching her back. Broc gave a
whistle, and the dog’s ears perked at once. And then she suddenly
came flying.

“
Watch this!” Broc
demanded of her, turning to be sure she was watching. She gave him
a smile and nod, and he turned again to watch his dog. Only, Merry
Bells had been quicker than Broc had obviously anticipated. Just as
he turned to await the animal, Merry Bells leapt high into the air.
Behemoth and beast met face-to-face, and Page heard the sickening
crack as Broc’s nose was broken by the impact of his dog’s snout
against his face. She gasped in alarm as both Broc and his animal
fell yelping backward.

She reined in at once to the sound of
startled curses, and Angus’s great peal of laughter. Slipping from
her mount, she hurried to inspect the fallen pair. Merry Bells, for
her part, seemed startled but unharmed. The dog rolled at once from
atop Broc and scurried away, tail between her legs. Broc, his face
flush with embarrassment, and his nose bleeding, simply lay upon
the ground, stupefied.

Page took pity upon him and kept her mirth
bridled. Without hesitation, she lifted her gown and ripped a strip
from her already tattered hem and then pressed it to Broc’s
bleeding nostril. She was scarce aware of the crowd that gathered,
some laughing, most suddenly too curious over her presence amongst
them to do anything more than stare at the pair of them, Broc
sprawled before her upon the ground, and her ministering to his
wounds.

“
Well, now, damn me to
hell!” someone shouted. “Broc’s got himself a woman!”

“
Broc’s got himself a
woman?” another echoed, and the crowd suddenly began to close in
about them.

“
I’ll be hanged!” someone
decreed, laughter in his voice. “No wonder puir Merry Bells just
aboot took your nose off, ye cheatin’ whoreson! Ho! But damned if I
can blame ye! She’s a damn sight bonnier than Merry
Bells!”

Merry Bells sidled into the circle at that
moment, shimmying under legs to reach her master. She came wagging
her tail behind her, casting a black-eyed glance in Page’s
direction, before scurrying over to Broc. The dog lapped his face
hesitantly at first, and then eagerly, whining. Tail perking and
wagging, she seemed to forget everything but her precious master in
that moment.

“
Looks to me like Broc’ll
be sharing his bed wi’ two bitches tonight!”

Another round of bawdy laughter followed
that remark, and Page’s cheeks flamed.

All of a sudden the gathering parted as Iain
MacKinnon came toward her, his look dark and his stride
purposeful.

Without a word, he bent low. Casting angry
glances at his men, he snatched her up by the waist and tossed her
unceremoniously over his shoulders. “She’ll damn well no’ be
sharing Broc’s bed!” he declared to one and all, and then marched
away, with Page clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

A hush fell over them all.

Openmouthed stares followed them.

Page’s cheeks burned hotter.

“
While I certainly am
grateful for the deliverance,” she remarked rather flippantly,
pounding him once on the back for emphasis, “you might have gone
about this with a little more civility!”

Aye, he might have, Iain acknowledged, but
he’d lost his composure watching her with Broc. Och, but it wasn’t
so much that she’d tended him so solicitously—aye, but it was! And
still he might have dealt with it had the talk not turned toward
bedding Broc! The image had wholly unsettled him, and he’d found
himself handing Malcom into Glenna’s capable arms and marching
toward them. He’d be damned if he’d let them mistake who she
was.

She was his.

He wasn’t certain, precisely, at which
moment he’d decided such a thing—whether it was in the instant
after their loving, or after seeing her ride companionably beside
Broc all afternoon, speaking low and laughing softly as would two
lovers together. Never in his life had he felt such a stab of
covetousness. Like some jealous beau, he’d had a difficult time
keeping himself from maneuvering his mount betwixt the two, and
commanding Broc away from her. Amazing, in such short time she’d
managed to win Broc’s favor—the others, as well, with the exception
of a few. He could tell by the way they looked upon her, and in the
small ways they tried to shield her. He couldn’t believe how
vehemently Broc had come to her defense.

Damn, but mayhap it was simply in watching
her ride with his son that he came to the decision. He’d watched
her smooth the hair back from Malcom’s face as she listened to him
speak... like a mother with her beloved child, and his heart had
thundered within his breast to see it. In that instant he’d wanted
to snatch her up into his arms and love her madly.

Damned if he understood why he felt so.

He only knew that he wanted her.

And this moment, he wanted her badly enough
not to care what anyone thought of his manners.

Damn propriety! Damn everyone!

Malcom was home. Aye, and it was his son
they wished to see this moment, not him. He knew Glenna would watch
him well; she loved Malcom as though he were her own. And Glenna
was the closest thing to a grandparent Malcom would ever know. They
needed time to reac-quaint themselves.

He, on the other hand, needed something else
entirely.

Something only Page could give him.

Ignoring her protests and her threats, he
bore her without a word into his home, and up the stairwell to his
chamber.

“
Put me down!” she
demanded. “I am perfectly capable of making my way upon my own two
feet, thank you!”

“
Of a certainty, ye can,
lass.”

But he didn’t stop, and she shrieked in
outrage. “Put me down!” she demanded. “Everyone is watching!”

“
Are they really?” he
asked with little concern.

She actually growled at that, and Iain had
to suppress a hearty chuckle at her fierce expression of
frustration.

“
Put me down, I tell you!
Now! You overbearing brute!”

“
Of a certainty, I shall,”
Iain said amenably, though he continued to carry her up the steps,
disregarding her request until he was within his chamber, and
managed to kick the door closed.

Only then did he put her down and release
her.

chapter 25

The instant her feet touched the wooden
floor, Page scurried across the room, too outraged to care that she
might stumble over some misplaced object within the gloomy confines
of the room. She went as far as she dared, and then whirled upon
him, her hands going to her hips as she glared at him through the
shadows. She tried to focus upon his imposing form standing so
forbiddingly before the only door.

“
Sweet Jesu!” she
exclaimed, when she still could not see him clearly enough. “Have
you no tapers?”

Lord, but she couldn’t recall when she’d
been so humiliated! And then at once she reconsidered. Of course
she could! No other moment in her life would ever pain her more
than the instant she’d discovered her father’s treachery. Be that
as it may, Iain MacKinnon’s rude conduct came mightily close!

“
We dinna keep servants to
anticipate our every whim,” he answered calmly. “We do for
ourselves, lass. If the room is dark and cold, I beg your
pardon.”

Page had to clamp her lips together to keep
from lashing out a response to his unjust insinuation—that she
would have had servants to coddle her. Indeed! If her father could
scarce trouble himself to name her, he certainly hadn’t been any
more inclined to see to her comforts!

On the contrary, he’d worked her tirelessly,
and the common coarseness of her hands bespoke as much. She
clenched her fists at her sides, and gritted her teeth in renewed
anger at the reminder of her father and his heartless
disowning.

“
No servants?” she
answered flippantly. “What a pity. Ah, well, I shall find myself
quite at home anyway,” she answered truthfully.

“
I shall see to it,” he
promised, his words a seething whisper.

There was a moment of taut silence as he
pushed away from the door and moved through the shadows. Page
followed him with her eyes.

When at last her vision adjusted to the
gloom, she watched as he finally lit a taper. Its flame thrust
immediately upward and remained steady and true, brightening the
chamber. It was a large room by most any standard—large enough to
make it appear utterly barren despite the massive bed that occupied
its space. The bed itself was strewn with furs, but the rest of the
room was completely devoid of anything that would give it warmth.
Nothing upon the walls, nothing upon the floors.

In the center of the room stood a small
brazier, its pith blackened and unused. It, along with the bed,
remained the only evidence the room was in use at all, for the
chamber was impeccable and uncluttered—appeared abandoned even. A
hasty glance about revealed a single window at her back, curiously
barred. Through the rashly placed wooden slats, thin rays of
sunlight sluiced into the musty confines of the stone-walled
chamber.

At once her gaze was drawn back toward the
soft flicker of the taper within Iain’s hands. Its glow illuminated
his hard masculine features fully, and she shuddered at the way his
gold- flecked eyes watched her so intently.

Was he awaiting her reaction to this place
he’d brought her? Did he intend to imprison her here? Jesu, but why
should he? She had no place to run to, she thought morosely.