Page 107 of When A Laird Loves A Lady
It was a long time before Marion was alone withIain. When daylight had dawned and silence had finally mostly descended overthe knights and Scots camped in her father’s—or what had been herfather’s—inner bailey, and Iain’s talks with King Edward and the other lairdsfinally ended, Iain came for her. She’d elected to sleep in the stables ratherthan in the keep in her old bedchamber. She never wanted to go in the keep thatheld so many bad memories again.
Clutching Iain’s plaid around her,she sat alone with Lachlan, their backs against a stall and the stable dooropen wide. A breeze blew strands of her hair across her face, and she pushedthem away as she watched Iain approach. Her heart swelled with happiness thathe was alive, but a sadness dulled the joy. Her father was to be put to death,and though he’d not loved her, he had been her father.
With the darkness gone, she couldclearly see myriad cuts on Iain’s face, arms, and parts of his chest. He’dpulled his hair back and tied it at the base of his neck, making him appeareven more foreboding with the hard lines of his face and the way he’d set hismouth in a grimace.
She searched his gaze as he neared,and while she saw the gentleness she knew there, something else dwelled in theblue depths. It appeared to be wariness, and the idea made her breath catch inher throat. Whatever could be wrong?
“Brother,” Lachlan said, as if asilent command had been given and understood. Lachlan rose quickly and departedwithout a word, shutting the stable door behind him.
Marion’s heart pounded nervously asIain kneeled down before her. He started to reach for her hands and thenstilled, as if unsure. What was this strangeness in him?
“Will ye let me touch ye?” heasked.
She frowned, her heart tripping inher chest. “Why would I not? I’ve longed for nothing but you since the day Iwas taken from Dunvegan.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face.“Then ye’re nae fearful?”
“Not of your touch, but I amworried about this strangeness between us.”
“Ah,a ghràidh,” he chokedout as he gently enfolded her in his arms.
She pressed her cheek to his chestand listened to the frenzied beating of his heart. Something was troubling himgreatly. She pushed away from him until he loosened his arms so she could lookup at him.
His eyes filled with an oddunderstanding and sadness. “It’s too much, then? To be held?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Is ittoo much for you to hold me?”
“Of course nae!” he said, his toneforceful. “It does nae matter to me. I want ye to ken that. All that matters isthat I have ye back alive. We’ll take what’s to come together. If”—he inhaledsharply—“if ye have Froste’s bairn in yer belly, I’ll raise the child as myown. I swear it. The bairn would be a part of ye, as well.”
Shock ran through her, followedswiftly by overwhelming love. “Iain.” She grasped his hand and pressed hercheek against it. “I didn’t think I could ever love you more than I already do,but you’ve proven me wrong.”
“I feel the same,a ghràidh.I—”
She set her finger to his lips.“Froste never joined with me, Iain.”
He brushed her hand away. “But—”
“No.” She stopped his words yetagain. She could only imagine how Froste must have taunted and lied to Iainbefore they had fought. “I don’t know what he said to you, but it was a lie. Hewanted to take me, but I pointed out to him that if he did before I’d gotten myflux and then I had a bairn, he’d not know if it was his or yours.”
A dark look of rage swept overIain’s face. “If he was nae already dead I’d kill him.”
Marion wrapped her arms around herhusband’s waist, and this time, when he enveloped her, it was in a crushingembrace.
“He tried to force me right beforeyou came,” she said, “and I hit him with a tree branch. Then Father came totell Froste you’d arrived and they left me alone. When I next saw you and youasked me what he’d done, I thought you meant had he tortured or hurt me. Iwould not have said it didn’t matter had I known. I’m so sor—”
Her apology was smothered under thehot assault of Iain’s mouth on hers. His lips parted hers in a soul-reachingmessage:mine. And she was. Each slant of his mouth over hers demandedan answer, and soon they were running their hands frantically over each other’sbodies, ripping at the meager clothing between them. When his hands touched herbare skin, he branded her with every touch, every caress down her belly andswirl over her breasts. He kissed a path across her neck and over eachshoulder, whispering his love and need for her between each kiss. He kneadedher back as his mouth burned a trail down her stomach to press a kiss on eachtrembling leg. She wanted him to take her. She needed him inside her, to feelhim as she’d not felt him in so long.
“Iain,” she gasped as her desirebecame almost unbearable with each slide of his finger into her body. When hedidn’t answer, she grasped his hair and tugged.
He gazed up at her, his eyes dazedwith his own fierce need.
“Take me!” she demanded, passionpounding the blood through her veins to her heart.
“Gladly,a ghràidh,” hegrowled, and in one sweeping motion, he laid her back on the straw and plungedinside her.
Their joining was unlike anythingshe had experienced before. It was raw and primitive, fueled by theexhilaration of surviving battle and laced with a potent need to assure eachother that the connection between them could never be broken. They reachedtheir climax together, their screams likely putting smiles on many Scots’faces. When their frenzied joining was over, Iain took her again, slowly andgently. This time, they came together in calmness and gently explored eachother, bringing each other to slow, torturous climaxes. When they were bothutterly spent, they lay on Iain’s plaid and simply stared into each other’seyes until they fell asleep.
Hours later, Marion awoke to findIain was gazing at her in awe. She smiled at him. “Have you slept at all?”
