Page 61 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
He got quietly to his feet, laced his shirt and tucked it into his britches, fastened them, threw on his fur-lined tunic and his boots and made his stealthy way out of his bedchamber. Once he was out in the passage, he strode to the stone steps leading to the tower.
He needed to clear his head. Yesterday had passed in a jumble of events that had left him reeling. From the moment he’d become aware that Davina had left the castle, the horror and terror he’dexperienced when he realized she’d been abducted, to the blind rage that had overwhelmed him at the sight of MacKinnon and his men holding her captive and most terrible of all, the man’s attempt to take her life by tossing her into the water.
He’d fretted by her bedside after he’d brought her back to Kiessimul but, thankfully, after sleeping for a full day, she’d wakened seeming little the worse for the ordeal she’d been through.
And now, his passion for her had overridden everything he’d vowed to himself he would not do. Knowing Davina wanted him so badly, it had taken every scrap of his willpower to reel back his desire. He chuckled softly to himself, aware that she did not know quite what it was she actually wanted.
He could have taken her and she’d have welcomed him. Even now his shaft and his groin were aching for her.
But to have taken her maidenhead when she was so trusting and vulnerable in his bed, viewing him only as her savior, would not have sat well with him.
Standing on the battlements, he let the cold wind scour his face and tangle his hair, clearing his thoughts. He rubbed his hands together to keep the blood flowing in the frigid air.
He’d called another Clan Council meeting for two days later to alert them to the danger posed by Laird Murchadh MacKinnon, despite knowing that attending a further meeting woulddisplease them. They would have scarcely reached their homes after the previous meeting and were now being called back.
He’d given orders for extra preparations to be made by the kitchen for a feast, and dispatched two of his men to Vatersay to bring back supplies of honeyed-mead.
Good food and a surfeit of mead to drown their sorrows would soften them. Although, when they would hear what he had to say, they would be greatly displeased.
They had accepted his need to appease MacDougall, although they’d chaffed at bending to the man’s will, and they would not take kindly to learn of MacKinnon’s exploits on the island.
The peace between themselves, MacDougall and MacKinnon was as threadbare as a beggar’s britches. He had no wish to clash with the two powerful clans. Even though, through kinship, the MacLeods of Skye were bound to them as allies.
What there was between him and Murchadh MacKinnon was a personal enmity. It did not concern the Clan. He would deal with the man without consulting the Council, even if it meant bringing their wrath down on his head.
He headed back to his bedchamber to check on Davina, still assailed with doubts about his own behavior, yet with a spring in his step as he recalled her abandoned cries of passion.
Mildred was just leaving as he arrived at the door.
She smiled. “Mistress Davina is well. I have just brought her some sausages and broth and some oatbread. D’ye wish me tae send one of the maids wi’ yer supper?”
He nodded. “Thank ye.”
Mildred hurried off.
When he entered, Davina was seated by the fire. She was dressed in her blue kirtle and over-tunic, her hair was brushed and her eyes sparkled as she caught sight of him.
He bent to place a soft kiss in her hair. “I am pleased tae see ye looking so well, me sweet Davina. The blue of the kirtle makes much of the golden lights in yer eyes.”
She smiled up at him. “I thank ye fer the compliment, me laird. I am unused tae hearing such things.”
He glanced at the tray she had before her. “Please, feel free tae continue dining. I have asked Mildred tae send me supper.” He glanced at her, offering a mischievous smile. “That is, if ye dinnae object.”
She laughed at this foolishness. “I can hardly object, when this is yer bedchamber.”
The scullery maid bustled in with a platter of sausages, a bowl of broth, some cold chicken, boiled carrots and honeyed walnuts.
He took his seat beside the small table where the food had been laid.
After Davina finished her supper, she dabbed her lips with a linen napkin and wiped her fingers. She was frowning as she gazed at him. “Have ye forgotten that I promised I would tell ye the story of me early days, now that me memories have come intae me mind?”
He shook his head. “I think we had other things… on our minds, lass.” He grinned. “And very pleasurable things they were, indeed.”
Her cheeks flushed a most appealing shade of pink. He took her hand and squeezed it.
“After ye’re done wi’ yer supper are ye ready tae hear me tale?”
He nodded, taking his last mouthful of the chicken broth. He rose and took both their platters to the door and placed them outside in the passage. He placed the honeyed nuts on the table between them. He smiled as Davina at once reached for one.
