Margaret Mallory - The Guardian

“ ’Tis a wonder she hasn’t left ye yet,” Niall said, his eyes burning into Ian. “If ye don’t know it, there is a line of men just waiting for her to lose patience with ye.”

CHAPTER 7

Ian listened to Alex’s snoring in the next bed and watched the sky grow light through the crack in the shutters of the old cottage as he thought about the day ahead. It was an important day, for him and for the clan. After weighing the advantages and disadvantages over the two days since his return, he had decided to accept Sìleas as his true wife. He would tell her today, after the gathering at the church.

In the end, it was an easy choice. Sìleas had become the peg that held his family together. After not being here when they needed him, he would not take her away from them now. They were all very fond of her. In fact, he was a trifle concerned Niall’s feelings toward her were not entirely brotherly, but the lad was young and would get over it soon enough.

For his mother, Sìleas filled the hole in her heart left by the baby daughters she had lost. What surprised him was the closeness between Sìleas and his father. Busy as Sìleas was, Ian found her at his father’s bedside several times a day. Her presence seemed to soothe him. Although his father had never openly mourned the loss of their daughters as his mother had, perhaps he, too, had carried a wound that Sìleas healed.

If for no other reason, Ian would have kept Sìleas for the sake of his family. Added to that, she was heir to Knock Castle, a good manager, and she made his blood run hot. What more could a man ask for?

Now that he’d come home to take his place in the clan, he needed a wife. There was no good reason to upset the basket when he already had one that suited. The only objection he could claim was that he hadn’t chosen Sìleas in the first place. It would be just pigheaded to let that stop him when everything else weighed in favor of the marriage.

Now that he’d made up his mind, it was only a matter of getting Sìleas alone so he could tell her. Saving the clan from Hugh Dubh came first, of course. He would speak to her after the business at the church today.

Then he could join Sìleas in the bed upstairs.

He smiled to himself. That particular advantage had weighed heavily in favor of keeping the marriage. No more sleeping in the old cottage with Alex. And once he told Sìleas of his decision, she would stop giving him the sharp edge of her tongue.

He could think of other uses for that tongue…

“Are ye going to lie abed all morning?” Alex said, and Ian turned to find his cousin dressed and strapping on his claymore.

Ian grinned at him, feeling better than he had since returning home. He could hardly wait to see Sìl’s face when he told her. He remembered how she used to look up to him, with that glow in her eyes, as if he was the strongest and bravest person she could ever hope to meet.

When he told her, she would look at him that way again—but with a woman’s eyes. And a woman’s desire. Then he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her as he’d been wanting to. Ah, it had been years since he’d given a lass her first kiss.

And then there would be all the other firsts…

God’s blood, he’d never bedded a virgin before. He had done his best to avoid innocents up until now. It surprised him that he found the prospect of bedding a virgin… exciting. At least, this particular virgin. Sìleas would be his alone, now and forever.

“Ian,” Alex said, jarring him back to the present.

As he got out of bed, Ian grabbed his plaid to cover his throbbing erection. God’s beard, he was in pain. Tonight. Tonight, he would get to take Sìleas to bed.

But first, there was the gathering. Work before pleasure.

“I see you’re going to church prepared,” Ian said to Alex, as he strapped on his own claymore.

“I don’t wish to count on Hugh respecting the house of God without encouragement.”

Word of Ian and Alex’s arrival would have reached Hugh’s ears, and their presence was bound to make Hugh nervous. Hugh was no one’s fool. He’d know that if they were here, Connor and Duncan could not be far behind.

“How many blades are ye taking?” Ian asked, as he slipped a dirk into the side of his boot.

“I only have two dirks,” Alex said, pulling a face.

“Here,” Ian said, tossing him another. “I got extra from the house last night.”

“You’re a good man,” Alex said, catching it.

Sìleas wasn’t downstairs when they had their breakfast, but she was waiting at the gate with Ian’s mother when Ian, Alex, and Niall brought the horses to the front of the house.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine without me?” Sìleas asked his mother.

“Ye worry too much,” his mother said, patting her hand. “I’m feeling my old self again. Payton and I will manage just fine.”

Sìleas kissed his mother on the cheek and turned to where the three of them were waiting on their horses. “It’s such a fine day,” she said. “We could walk.”

“We’re riding,” Ian said.

It was true that the rain was no more than a light mist, which made it a fine day for mid-October in the Highlands. But he wanted the horses in case they needed to make a quick departure.

When Sìleas started toward Niall’s horse, Ian nudged his forward to block her way. He held out his hand. “Ride with me.”

For a moment, she looked as if she would refuse, which annoyed him. He reminded himself that she didn’t know yet of his decision. When she finally gave him her hand, he swung her up in front of him. He pulled her tight against him as he kicked his horse into a trot. When he turned to wave good-bye to his mother, she gave him an approving nod.

He’d make two women happy by his decision to make a true marriage with Sìleas.

It was hard to think with the smell of her hair in his nose and her bottom snug between his thighs. But the ride was short, so he forced his thoughts to what he would say to the men when they got there.

As they neared the church, they had to pass Dunscaith Castle, the seat of their clan chieftain. The castle was made famous by two women, both of whom—if Teàrlag was to be believed—were Duncan’s ancestors. According to the old stories, Dunscaith was built in a single night by a sea witch. It was here, too, that the great Celtic warrior queen, Scáthach, ran her legendary School for Heroes.

Ian had seen Dunscaith a thousand times before, but today he looked at it for the first time as an attacker. The castle stood on a rock island just offshore, with a gap of twenty feet between it and the main island. If the sheer rock was not enough to deter an attack by sea, the five-foot-thick curtain wall on top of it surely would.

To get into the castle, an attacker either had to come in by the sea gate on the far side, which was easily blocked, or cross the walled bridge that spanned the gap. If you made it across the bridge, the castle’s defenders could raise the drawbridge at their end of it to stop you. And if you made it past the drawbridge, you still had to fight your way up a walled flight of stairs that was too narrow for two men to go abreast swinging their swords.

“An easy castle to defend and a hard one to take,” Alex said, echoing Ian’s thoughts.

“Aye.” As they rode past, Ian narrowed his eyes at the castle’s tower. Was Hugh there now, watching them from his perch?

It was hard to bear that a greedy, honorless man held the castle where Scáthach had trained her celebrated warriors of old.

Ian could see that there was already a large gathering of people outside the church, which was no more than a stone’s throw past the bridge to the castle. The church was a humble, whitewashed building, a poor relation to the cathedrals he had seen in France.