Page 71 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Offering a mischievous smile, she shrugged. “Why nae? I’ve nae had the pleasure before, as the nuns didnae partake of such luxuries.”
She took a sip, spluttering as the fiery liquid went down, but its peaty, smoky flavor was not at all unpleasant.
He was grinning. “Is that tae yer liking?”
She coughed. “Aye,” her voice was croaky, but she smiled, determined not to waver. She took another sip, this time the whisky slipped down with hardly a splutter. She felt it warming her veins.
“I wished tae thank ye fer yer care. Nae only tae me, fer me cut was small and of nae consequence, but I saw how kindly ye treated the men.”
Her cheeks burned at his compliment and she lowered her eyes. This acknowledgment meant far more to her than words of admiration for her hair or her dress. When she looked up, searching his eyes, she felt a glow of happiness, basking in his approval.
“I was pleased tae be of assistance tae Eilidh. I ken ye and all the men shed blood on me behalf. I wish ye tae ken I am grateful.”
He turned his gaze away from her and stared into the fire, leaving her with a sense of loss. His voice was gruff when he replied.
“I am at yer service Lady Lyra. As I have been since our first meeting in such inauspicious circumstances on the Isle of Iona. I care fer naught but yer wellbeing.”
Those were noble words, but surely not the words of a lad who was besotted? Her heart plummeted. His concern for her, as she’d always thought, was nothing more than the performance of his duty as a warrior and a laird.
“Thank ye fer yer duty tae one who is, unwittingly, under yer protection.”
She heard him give a soft huff, and when he turned back to face her, she saw with dismay his expression had changed. He frowned, his mouth drawn in a tight line.
“Me lady, surely ye ken by now that me feelings fer ye extend far beyond duty. Dinnae ye ken I am ready tae lay down me life fer ye? Surely, by now, I have proved it tae ye?”
Something wild and strong went surging through her at his words, and she drew herself up to stand tall, meeting his burning gaze.
“So, if ‘tis nae yer duty, what causes ye tae risk yer life fer me? What is it then, me laird?”
He gazed long into her eyes and she held her breath as his eyes darkened.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
God’s hooks, she’s a difficult lass. What is she asking of me now? Isnae me duty tae her enough that she still wants tae bind me soul tae hers?
He gave a soft huff of indignation. “I dinnae ken what ye’re asking me lass. I am willing tae make ye me wife, what more is there tae say?
She turned away and he could only stand helplessly, watching the play of firelight in the gold of her hair and the soft curves of her body in that red dress. He was on fire; it was as if the very flame were leaping inside him.
Her scent of flowers was intoxicating him, and every scrap of him was slowly being consumed with wanting. When he’d watched her tending the men, he’d admired her gentleness yet, behind it, he’d glimpsed a steeliness that showed him her strength and, at the same time, her kindness.
It was only now, as his shaft thickened at the sight of her, that he became aware she was everything he would ever want, that she had wound her way into his heart and there would never be another. He wanted – no, heneeded– to make her his wife.
To hell with the clan, to hell with MacDougall, he wanted to be with this woman for the rest of his days and the devil could take the rest.
She pshawed, narrowing her eyes. “I dinnae ken what it is I wish from ye, Laird Tòrr, but what I dinnae want is tae be wed tae a man who sees me only as an obligation. Yer clan wishes tae see us wed and ye are willing tae dae their bidding.”
He reached for her hand. “Ye dinnae understand, Lyra. ‘Tis more than the clan’s wishes that makes me want tae wed wi’ ye.”
She lifted her head and thew him a haughty look. “I’ll nae accept being used as a pawn in the games ye men play fer greed and power.”
He groaned, tightening his grip on her hands, drawing her closer. Her scent filled his senses, her nearness was almost more than he could bear.
She stood close, holding her head proudly, her breasts rising and falling with every breath she took, while his body throbbed with longing. To hold her and feel her pressed close and never let her go.
His heart was hammering and he hauled in a despairing breath to steady himself. The answer he dreaded was on the tip of her tongue. She would choose to leave him and return to her own lands.
He raised a hand to brush her hair from her shoulder and cupped her chin. Her eyes shone bright in the firelight as she waited for him to speak.
