Page 18 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
His uncle gave a short, sharp nod, clearly disapproving of the way she’d interrupted their meeting. Gordon gave her a small bow, his expression reserved. Murdoch couldn’t blame either of them for their coolness toward Lydia. They’d both known his previous wife, after all.
To Lydia, he said, “Yer dog is with me other cousin and son, in the garden there.” He pointed. “If ye like, I can show ye the way.”
Lydia flushed a bit, clearly able to read the irritation in his tone. “I can find it. I wouldnae want to interrupt yer meetin’…”
“Ye’ve already done that.” He turned toward his uncle. “If ye will excuse me, I’d like to have a word with me betrothed while I get her to where she needs to be. In the meantime, please inform the Elders and other council members that there will be a meetin’ tomorrow, directly after the mornin’ meal.”
With that, he led her out of the room and shut the door firmly behind himself.
It was obvious she’d annoyed Murdoch, but nonetheless, Lydia could feel her own temper spiking as he politely but firmly escorted her from the room.
It wasn’t as if she’d known that particular room was his study, or that he was holding a meeting with his advisors. She’d simply been concerned with Hector, who’d disappeared while she was unpacking and trying to find the best place to put her books. She hadn’t meant to intrude.
Yes, she could have knocked first, and if she’d paused a moment before opening the door, she would most likely have heard voices and realized the room was in use. But then, if the meeting had been that important, he could have locked the door or called for a servant to escort her, instead of taking her himself.
Murdoch finally slowed down and pointed towards a door. “That door there is the fastest way to the gardens from the family wing.”
“Thank ye.” She tried to tug her arm free, but he held her fast.
“I willnae have ye bargin’ into meetings and embarrassin’ me in that manner again. I could have been meeting with any number of folk, and such behavior doesnae reflect well on either of us. I’ll nae have me betrothed, or me wife, randomly interruptin’ important gatherings.”
Lydia’s temper sparked at the rebuke, and she jerked her arm free with a hiss of anger. “Ye should have locked the door, if it was that important, Laird Lochlann.”
“Murdoch. Ye ken me given name, and I’ll thank ye to use it.”
“And so I will when ye’re nae being a temperamental boor, and trying to act more like a laird than a suitor.” She snapped back.
His scowl deepened. “I’d think the daughter of a laird, and the sister o’ one, would ken how to use proper courtesy, instead o’ barging into random rooms.”
“Youngest daughter and sister-by-marriage! And if ye’re so concerned about that, perhaps ye shouldnae have demanded arandomlass to fulfill yer need for a bride and a Lady of yer clan!” She emphasized the word, remembering how he’d said he’d take any Miss Knox. “Ye wanted a Miss Knox as yer lady, now ye will have to make do with what ye’ve chosen.”
She started to turn and walk away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back round to face him. “A younger daughter or sister ought to ken how to listen to her laird, as well as minding her tongue and her manners. A Lady of a clan should strive to do the same.”
This close, she could feel the heat of him, see the smolder in his eyes. It was oddly intriguing to think she had that much control over this Murdoch’s moods. Lydia knew quite well that the wisest course of action was to nod, look away and answer with an agreement and perhaps a soft apology.
However, she wasn’t interested in being wise. If Laird Lochlann, if Murdoch Nairn, she corrected herself, wanted to claim her as his bride, then he’d take her as she was or wed her not at all. Shewasn’t going to play the demure, timid maiden for him, or cower in the face of his temper. She might be the bairn, the protected child of her family, but she was far from weak or spineless.
Instead of an apology or agreement she smiled challengingly up into Murdoch’s face, her cheeks flushed with her own anger and daring. “Is that so, me Laird? And what if I daenae agree? What are ye going to do then? Decide nae to wed me, or…?”
She got no further than that before his hand grasped her chin, and his mouth fastened over hers in a searing kiss that drove all her words away.
10
Murdoch hadn’t meant to kiss her; hadn’t really been thinking about it at all. All he knew, in that one moment before his mouth captured hers, was that he wanted to silence her, to answer her challenge in a way that even she couldn’t defy, or deny.
Lydia Knox. She was as infuriating as she was intriguing, and she awoke feelings inside of him that he hadn’t paid any heed to in far longer than just the past two years.
She was beautiful; the flash and fire of her temper only made her moreso. Her eyes glittered like emeralds with sparks hidden in their depths. The pale luster of her skin and smooth gleam of her night-black, velvety tresses made him recall stories of the fae folk walking the moors and bewitching those who heard their soft, plaintive songs.
If she was such, then he was truly in danger of falling under her spell. Murdoch doubted that he would mind being spellbound by such a woman, be she Fair Folk or mortal.
As his lips met hers, all argument faded away in a rush of intensity and sweetness.
Her lips were as soft as the linens in which Wilma dressed Finn and tasted of wine, the sweet scone from their noon meal, and a light trace of sweat from her journey, coupled with an odd leather-and-parchment scent that imbued his senses. Her mouth opened in surprise, a soft gasp rushing between their lips as he deepened the kiss.
Yielding, honied and pliant, her mouth was intoxicating to a man who’d long been without such sweetness or softness for many a season. Murdoch had never shared such a kiss with his first wife.
They had barely ever even touched unless it was absolutely necessary and even then, their contact had been as brief as possible, full of rigid touches and words that had neither kindness nor softness to them.
