To Marry A Scottish Laird (11 page)

“What does it matter?” he growled as he glanced down and flicked the linens and furs completely off of them both. Raising his gaze, he watched her face as his hand slid down her body.

“We’re married.” Cam growled and gripped her hip briefly, squeezing. He then shifted his hand between her thighs urging them apart, before finally finding her core.

“Ye’re me wife,” he breathed, lowering his head so that his hot breath brushed her lips as he spoke. His fingers ran lightly over her warm, wet flesh once, then again before stopping to circle the nub where the pleasure he was raising in her seemed centered.

Joan moaned and shifted restlessly, her body beginning to strain toward the release that she knew he could give her. She was tugging on his hair and shoulder, trying to bring him down for a kiss, but his mouth remained tantalizingly out of reach as he whispered, “And I’m ye’re husband.”

“Aye,” she gasped, her hips shifting and rotating now under his touch.

“Ye’ll come to Sinclair,” Cam continued, applying a little more pressure and Joan began to twist her head. He was driving her crazy; her release like his mouth was just out of reach and if he would just . . . she stopped digging her nails into his shoulder and reached instead for his staff, relieved to find it hot and hard.

Cam stiffened at her touch, and then abruptly stopped caressing her and shifted over her to settle between her legs.

Joan moaned in relief as he drove into her, even as he groaned his pleasure. Once fully in though, he paused and kissed her, a hot, wet, demanding kiss. Then he broke that off and raised his head as he began to move, pulling partway out of her again.

“God,” he growled as he sank back into her. “Ye feel so damned good, and now ye’re coming to Sinclair and I can drown in this pleasure every night.”

Cam began to move in earnest then, his body pounding into hers. Joan held on to him, her hands clutching his shoulders as he drove them both toward release, but for the first time since their first time together, she wasn’t wholly engaged in what they were doing. Some small part of her brain remained separate and wondered about the days. How pleased will he be to have a wife good only for bedding?

The thought ran around and around inside her head until Cam suddenly gasped, “Stop yer fretting.”

Startled, Joan focused on his face just as he claimed her mouth again. He thrust his tongue in rhythm with his hips, but also reached between them to caress her again and Joan’s worries retreated under the onslaught. Her passion quickly returned to a full burn and it wasn’t long before they both cried out their pleasure.

Afterward, Cam pulled up the linens and furs as he shifted to his side. He then caught Joan around the waist and pulled her back against him when she turned onto her side as well. A heartbeat later a small snore sounded by her ear and Joan realized he’d fallen asleep. Envy slid through her. She was suddenly wide awake herself, all sorts of worries crowding her mind. Most of them about how displeased Cam would be when he realized how ignorant and unprepared she was to be his wife. But she was also now fretting about what he’d said. He seemed happy that she was coming to Sinclair because he could continue to bed her, but was that the only reason? Was there nothing else about her that pleased him? And, if not, then what would her life be like when he grew bored with her? It was no better being his wife and watching him bed another than being a discarded mistress watching him move on. Actually, she thought suddenly, being the wife was worse. As a mistress she could have simply moved away and saved herself the heartache. As his wife, she couldn’t. She would be expected to bear it she was sure, and Joan wasn’t at all sure that she could do that.

“One problem at a time,” she muttered under her breath. Annabel and Annella were going to teach her to be a lady wife. She would start tomorrow, Joan decided determinedly, and learn everything she could before they left for Sinclair. That thought made her wonder how long she had before they left MacKay. No one had said, but she was sure they would stay a couple days at least. After all, she’d just met her family, just learned they existed. Aye, they would surely stay a couple days or perhaps a week ere traveling on to Sinclair, Joan assured herself as she finally drifted off to sleep.

“T
ODAY?”
J
OAN S
QUAWKED WITH ALARM,
wide eyes on her aunt.

“I know. I was hoping for more time too,” her aunt Annabel said soothingly, patting her hand where it rested on the table. “But Cam is concerned that his family will be worried about him. He says he was originally traveling with his cousins.”

“He sent them on ahead,” Joan recalled with a frown. She also recalled him telling her that he’d done so because of a tavern wench and felt a twinge of jealousy, which was just ridiculous. They hadn’t even met yet.

“Well,” her aunt continued, “I gather he told them he would follow in two days. But he said your journey here took much longer than expected?”

Joan bit her lip and nodded. “He was injured when he saved me from those bandits on the road. He slept for three days afterward, and then it took us two weeks of travel to get here.”

“Two weeks?” Annabel asked with surprise.

“Aye. We did not travel very quickly,” she muttered uncomfortably.

Annabel nodded with understanding. “Of course. He no doubt needed to take it slow while healing from such a wound.”

“Hmm,” Joan murmured, avoiding her gaze. It hadn’t really been his need to heal that had slowed them. All in all the man had healed quickly once awake. In fact, after the first couple days he’d seemed right as rain to her. Certainly, he’d not seemed to have any problem with . . . er . . . vigorous activity.

“Well, Cam is now two weeks later than he was expected. He worries his family will be fretting and fears they may send out a search party. He thought it would be better just to take you home right away and reassure everyone.”

“But—”

“Mother!” Kenna’s cry interrupted Joan and made her glance around as the young girl rushed up, dark hair flying and cheeks hectic with color. “Cook just told me he is preparing food for Joan and Cam’s journey.”

“Aye, dear, I asked him to,” Annabel said patiently. “ ’Tis a half day’s travel to Sinclair and I thought they may like to stop on the way for a picnic.”

Kenna shook her head and turned to Joan, “But ye can no’ leave. Ye just got here. We want to get to ken ye.”

“It was Cam’s decision, not Joan’s,” Annabel said gently.

“Well he can just change his mind,” Annella announced arriving at the table. “We are supposed to show her how to be a lady. We promised.”

“I know,” Annabel said unhappily. “But what can we do about it? Cam is her husband now and he has decided that—”

“Then I shall ha’e to go with her,” Annella interrupted firmly and when her mother looked as if she were about to protest, added firmly, “Father has always said a promise made is a promise to be kept, and we promised we would help her learn to be a lady.”

Annabel blinked and then a slow smile slid over her lips. “Aye, he does say that, does he not?”

“He does,” Annella said, grinning now.

“Oh, I promise too. I promise too,” Kenna said at once. “I can help. Please, Mama, can I go too?”

“Aye, you can,” Annabel said, patting her shoulder. “We shall all go. That way we can get to know Joan better and keep our promise too.”

Joan watched wide-eyed as they all smiled, then Annella warned, “Father’ll be fair froth o’er our all leaving.”

“Then he can come too,” she said lightly and stood up. “Come along, girls. We must pack quickly else Cam will leave us behind.”

Nodding, Annella turned and gave Joan a quick hug, assuring her, “We’ll be quick.”

“Do no’ let him leave without us,” Kenna added, hugging her next before rushing after her mother and older sister.

Joan stared after the trio as they bustled away, feeling just a bit dazed by it all. A lady rather than a commoner, married, and an aunt and cousins who were willing to risk the MacKay’s wrath to help her . . . and while she didn’t know him well, Joan suspected her uncle’s anger might be a thing better heard about than suffered or even seen.

Shaking her head, Joan turned to the table and picked up her goblet of cider. So this was what having family was like? The thought immediately made her feel guilty. Maggie Chartres had been her family for twenty years, in fact her only family. And she had been a wonderful woman who would have fought to the death on her behalf she was sure, but life with her had always been calm and peaceful. Even in a healing emergency her mother had remained unflappable. There had never been frantic cries, or whirlwinds of activity, or mini rebellions as the one her aunt and cousins were about to hold on her behalf. This was different. Her life was now different in many ways.

For instance, last night was the first time in her life that she’d slept in a bed rather than on a pallet on the floor, or the cold damp earth . . . and it had been heavenly. It was also the first time she’d slept in an actual bedchamber. Not a corner of the hut where there was room for her pallet, but a room that had actually been created for just the purpose of sleeping and nothing else. It was the first time she’d woken in the middle of the night to find anyone, especially a handsome, virile, naked man like Cam, picking her up out of bed and carrying her to a mound of furs on the floor where a picnic of wine, cheese and bread had waited. And it was definitely the first time she’d had a man injure himself for her honor.

Her gaze slid to the bloodstained bedsheet hanging over the upper hall railing. Cam had cut his hand and dripped the blood on the sheet as “proof of her innocence” last night after they’d finished the food and wine Kenna had fetched for them earlier. He’d then made love to her on the furs before the dying fire. Later he’d carried her to bed and made love to her again there.

It seemed to her they’d spent the better part of the night seeking pleasure, so when there had been a knock at their door in the morning, she’d merely moaned and tried to burrow back into the linens and furs. Cam had scooped her out of bed so that her aunt and uncle and the MacKay priest could collect the bloodstained sheet. Joan had been so exhausted, she’d fallen right back to sleep the moment they left and Cam set her back in bed between the upper linen and furs.

She’d woken up some time later to find him gone and the bed cold where he should have been. Joan had got up, dressed and come below to find only Lady Annabel at the trestle table waiting for her. She’d asked where Cam was and her aunt had explained he was down at the stables, saddling his mount. She’d then told her that he had decided they should leave today. Joan’s heart had seemed to drop right out of her chest at this news. She’d thought she had time, both to get to know her new aunt and uncle and their children, and to learn at least a couple necessary lessons on how ladies behaved, before leaving.

She didn’t though. They were leaving for Sinclair today . . . and she would meet Cam’s family. The thought was a daunting one. The only thing keeping her from all-out panic in that moment was that her aunt and cousins would be with her. She hoped.

Chapter 10

“
H
OW FAR ARE WE FROM
S
INCLAIR NOW?”

Cam sighed at that question from Kenna. She had asked it at least twenty times since they’d set out from MacKay that morning. She had also chattered nonstop the entire way. The girl was driving him mad.

And how the devil had he ended up saddled with the MacKay women and a retinue of soldiers for this journey anyway? It was supposed to be just him and Joan on his horse. He’d planned a leisurely ride home, exchanging kisses with his new bride, mayhap sliding his hands inside her gown to enjoy her bounty. Perhaps even easing one up under her skirt to make her moan and whimper in his lap as they rode. He’d found that thought oddly arousing, though he’d never before had any desire to try such a thing on a horse. It was more likely to see them bounced off the beast’s back than anything if he got Joan too excited and she began to writhe as she usually did when he touched her like that.

It hadn’t mattered in the end though, because when Cam had gone to saddle his mount, Ross MacKay had come out to present him with the first of many gifts, a horse for Joan. She would not need to ride with him. Cam had quickly adjusted his fantasy to suggesting they stop in a pretty little valley he knew that was on their way home. He would feed her the food and drink that Lady Annabel had promised she’d have her cook prepare, and then he would ravish his lady wife in the woods. Perhaps he’d even ravish her twice before continuing on with their journey, he’d thought, marveling at the fact that after two weeks of repeated sexual escapades, he still couldn’t get enough of the woman. If anything, he wanted her more and more.

That last fantasy had been scotched when he and Ross had returned to the keep to find out that Lady Annabel and her daughters intended to join him and Joan for the journey. They wanted to get to know Joan, they claimed, and were quite firm about it, but when Ross had begun to protest over their leaving, Lady Annabel had pulled him aside and whispered feverishly and at length about something that had eventually made the MacKay reluctantly give in. Cam had no idea what argument she’d used to sway her husband, but he’d caught the word
promise
several times and each time he’d seen the MacKay frown and slump a little more until he’d nodded in agreement.

Ross had then called Cam over and asked politely if his wife and daughters might accompany them home so that they could visit with Joan and get to know her. He would send men to guard them for the journey, and would collect them himself whenever Cam wished.

What could he say? Of course he’d agreed, and then he’d resigned himself to a half day’s ride with the women chattering away, completely oblivious to the fact that they’d ruined his hopes for seducing his bride. He’d consoled himself with the reassurance that they would reach Sinclair just shortly after the nooning and then he could leave the MacKay women to visit with his mother while he dragged Joan away to show her a waterfall not far from the keep where he would then seduce her.

While he’d waited for the women to finish their packing, Cam had sat at the trestle tables, nursing a tankard of ale and thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Joan by the waterfall.

However, he’d eventually come to realize they were taking an inordinate amount of time about their packing. He’d understood why when the servants began to carry the chests down from above stairs. It had looked like they were moving in rather than visiting, until Lady Annabel had explained that some of the chests held wedding gifts for him and Joan. Linens and such, she’d said, smiling happily.

“I am sure ’tisn’t much farther now,” Joan said soothingly, making Cam realize he hadn’t answered Kenna’s question.

“She’s right, ’tis just over this hill,” Cam said now, his gaze dropping to the woman settled on his horse before him. Joan couldn’t ride, of course. Something that hadn’t occurred to him. Or to the MacKay, obviously. So he’d had to take her up on his horse before him after all. He hadn’t minded in the least, until the first time she’d shifted before him, her little behind rubbing against his groin through their clothes. He knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose, but the woman was killing him. Every time she moved, she rubbed against him, waking the beast under his plaid and making him harden, and it seemed to him that every time the beast under his plaid finally began to deflate, she’d shift once more, stirring him all over again.

“There it is,” Lady Annabel said cheerfully, drawing Cam’s attention away from his wife’s behind and his aching erection, to the fact that they’d crested the hill and were now looking down on Sinclair Castle.

“Is it no’ beautiful, Joan?” Kenna asked excitedly. “I ha’e ever thought it the prettiest castle.”

Cam grimaced at the description. Only a female would call Sinclair beautiful and pretty. It was a damned masterpiece of fortification with an outer wall that was fifteen feet thick, was twenty-five feet high and had a wide dry moat before it filled with sharpened wooden posts to discourage getting too close. Inside that was the outer courtyard, separated from the castle itself by another moat, this one filled with water. Then came the gatehouse and towers to protect the first inner courtyard, and then the keep. There was a second inner courtyard behind the keep, of course.

Sinclair was large and a well-designed castle, but not a beautiful one to him.

“Aye, ’tis beautiful,” Joan agreed in a dismayed whisper.

Cam glanced down curiously, wondering why she seemed to sound upset. Unfortunately, all he could see was the top of her head, so he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t misheard her.

“ ’Tis big though, don’t you think?” she added weakly.

Nope, he hadn’t misheard. There was definitely dismay in her voice.

“Aye, big and beautiful,” Kenna agreed as they rode down the side of the hill.

“Is something amiss?” Cam murmured by her ear.

Joan immediately straightened before him and shook her head. “Nay. Of course not. Sinclair is lovely.”

He winced at the description, but let the subject go for now and concentrated on negotiating the trail down the hillside.

Cam wasn’t surprised when half a dozen warriors appeared on horseback, on the bridge at the outer wall. He had expected as much. Their party was big enough they would have been easily seen as they crested the hill. Well before that, probably, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder to the wagons and soldiers behind them. The riders would be sent out to see if they were friend or foe.

The riders waited until they started across the sixty foot area where the trees had been cleared away in front of the outer wall before starting forward. Cam continued forward, unconcerned. Not slowing until the two parties reached each other.

“Brother.” His younger brother, Douglas, greeted him solemnly as he reined in before him. “Ye finally decided to wander home . . . and ye brought guests,” he added, eyes narrowing on Joan where she sat in Cam’s lap. Curiosity flickered briefly across his expression and then his attention turned to the other members of the party. His eyebrows rose and respect filled his face when his gaze landed on Lady Annabel. Giving a half bow in the saddle, Douglas murmured, “Lady MacKay.”

“Good afternoon, Douglas,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Is Laird MacKay here as well?” he asked, his gaze shifting over the soldiers accompanying them.

“Nay. He could not make it right away, but he will come to collect us in a week’s time,” Annabel answered.

“A week?” Douglas asked with surprise, his narrowed eyes shifting to Cam with what he suspected was displeasure lurking in their depths.

“They are my invited guests,” he said simply, and not wholly honestly. He hadn’t exactly invited his in-laws to come home with him, though he supposed he should have thought to do so. After all, they had just been introduced to Joan and would no doubt want to get acquainted with her. And she probably would want that too. He should have thought of it and arranged it himself. He also should have thought to ask MacKay to send a messenger ahead to warn his family that he would arrive soon and was bringing company with him so that rooms could be prepared. But with everything that had happened, Cam hadn’t even considered it.

“I’ll warn Mother to prepare for more guests,” Douglas growled.

“More?” Cam asked, but his brother had already turned his horse and charged away with the other Sinclair warriors following. Frowning now, Cam urged his horse forward again, hoping to God that his mother didn’t still have a castle full of women waiting to descend on him the moment he entered. Dear God, she couldn’t have kept them there all summer, could she?

Knowing his mother as he did?
Aye, she could have
, Cam thought with a sigh.

Sinclair was huge and crammed full of people moving every which way, Joan noted, gawking about as they crossed the drawbridge into the outer courtyard. She wasn’t the only one gawking. Every person in the courtyard seemed to pause and turn to stare at them as they rode past, and every set of eyes seemed to be settled on her, in Cam’s lap. At least until they’d passed, then their curious gazes seemed to take note of Lady Annabel, her daughters and the MacKay soldiers and wagons that followed.

Uncomfortable under all those staring eyes, Joan was relieved to reach the bridge across the inner moat and ride under the gatehouse. At least until they came out in the inner courtyard and she noted almost as many people in this area, all of whom mimicked those in the outer courtyard and stopped to gawk at them as well.

“Chin up,” Cam murmured by her ear. “Ye’re Lady Sinclair now. These are yer people.”

Joan raised her chin, and tried to look serene, but it was difficult when all she wanted to do was crawl inside Cam’s plaid and hide. Especially when she noted the people spilling out of the keep and gathering on the steps. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a well-dressed couple on the top steps. The man had salt and pepper hair, at his side was a tall, long-necked woman of about Annabel’s age, her blond hair sprinkled with gray.

“Your parents?” she asked under her breath.

“Aye.”

Joan nodded and let her gaze drift over the other people on the stairs, most of whom were women. There were a couple of older women amongst them, but most were Joan’s age or younger, and every single one was pretty. Cam had said he only had one sister and Joan guessed that she was amongst the people on the stairs, but suspected the rest were not his cousins. At least, not all of them, she thought, and she remembered Cam saying that his mother had filled the castle with unattached women, hoping he’d marry one of them.

His mother was about to be terribly disappointed, Joan thought on a small sigh as Cam stopped his mount at the foot of the steps and dismounted, then reached up to lift her down. When he then turned to aid, first, Lady Annabel, and then each of her daughters, Joan glanced to her mother-in-law’s expressionless face again.

Aye, she’d be disappointed, Joan thought again, more grimly. How could she not be? Any one of the pretty women on the stairs would undoubtedly make a better wife to Cam than she would. No doubt they were all trained in whatever it was that made a woman a good wife to a noble laird. Certainly, they already had the manners and such mastered, while she did not.

“Courage,” Annabel whispered once she was on the ground. She also slipped her arm around her waist and hugged her briefly to her side.

Joan managed a smile for her aunt, appreciating the supportive gesture.

“ ’Twill be all right. Lady Sinclair is nice,” Annella whispered encouragingly, appearing at her other side and taking her hand. “She will like ye.”

“Shall we, ladies?” Cam murmured as he finished lifting Kenna off her mount and led her over to join them. He frowned briefly when he realized that there was no room for him beside Joan, then relaxed, shrugged slightly and ushered them up the stairs en masse.

“Annabel,” Lady Sinclair said, moving down a couple steps to greet them. Her previously expressionless face broke into a smile of greeting that made her absolutely beautiful and much more approachable. “What a nice surprise.”

“ ’Tis lovely to see you again, Bearnas.” Annabel smiled widely and retrieved her arm from around Joan’s waist to take the hands Lady Sinclair held out and then hug her in greeting.

“And I, you,” Bearnas Sinclair assured her and then as they stepped back from each other, she glanced to Cam and added, “Especially since ye brought me son home to me safe and sound. I was beginning to fear he’d been beset by bandits on the road.”

“I was,” Cam said, stepping up to hug his mother as Annabel moved sideways on the step to greet Laird Sinclair with a hug as well. It seemed the Sinclairs and MacKays
were
close friends, Joan thought.

“What?” Lady Sinclair pulled back from her son with alarm. “Are ye all right?”

“Aye, thanks to Joan,” Cam assured her and then turned to hold his hand out to her as he added, “She saved me life. Twice. First taking out one o’ me attackers fer me, and then watching o’er me while I lay unconscious and defenseless. She mended me, else I would no’ be standing here now.”

Forcing a nervous smile as she took his hand, Joan stepped up next to him.

“Well, ’tis definitely a pleasure to meet you then, dear,” Lady Sinclair said solemnly, looking her over. “Joan, is it?”

“Aye, Mother,” Cam said. “This is Laird and Lady MacKay’s niece, Lady Joan Sinclair.”

“Niece?” Lady Sinclair echoed and turned to Lady Annabel with surprise. “I did no’ ken ye had—” She stopped suddenly and then turned slowly back to Joan and Cam, confusion clouding her eyes. “Joan Sinclair?”

“Aye. We were married at MacKay yesterday. She is me wife,” Cam announced. A moment of silence passed where everyone seemed frozen, then one of the women on the stairs made an odd choking sound and apparently fainted. At least, the blond dropped and began to roll down the steps. Fortunately, a younger version of Cam, his brother Aiden, Joan guessed, moved to the side so that she rolled into his ankles and came to a halt.

“Thank you, son,” Lady Sinclair said on a sigh as the young man bent to scoop up the unfortunate woman. “Please take Lady Murine inside.”