Page 79 of Laird of Steel
The picture of him tweaking Carenza’s nose made more laughter rumble deep in his chest. The kind of laughter that bubbled up inside him only on rare occasions. Like when Hew splayed himself in the mud at the feet of a lass he was trying to impress. Or when Adam did a brilliant impression of Father James, reading scripture after polishing off a jack of ale.
He wondered how Lady Carenza would respond if he grabbed her by the nose. The idea made him laugh even harder.
He was unused to laughter. There was a reason he was called Grim Gellir. When a man was known as the greatest swordsman in Scotland, there was little time for levity.
But on occasion, when something struck him by surprise, chuckles rippled and burst forth like ale kept too long in the barrel. And this was such an occasion.
The sound made Merraid swing about. She wrongly assumed he was laughing at her. Flushing with humiliation, she planted her hands on her hips. Her brows slammed together in anger.
“ Tweak her nose’?” he repeated, tossing his head back and laughing in earnest. “Och, lass, that’s priceless!”
She saw now he wasn’t mocking her. Disarmed, she lowered her hands from her hips. Her brow smoothed, and her lips began to twitch. She couldn’t stay angry with him.
“Well,” she said, “’twas that or…’pinch her toes’.”
He roared, which made her giggle. Soon they were laughing together.
“What about ‘tie her hose’?” he suggested.
She gave him a chiding shove, which set off a new round of snickers.
“Or ‘wash her clothes’?” she offered.
He tried to stifle a laugh with the back of his hand and failed.
“Well, shite!” she spat.
“What?”
“Now I’ve forgotten the line.”
He managed to get his laughing under control. “I remember it.”
He did remember it. Because the words were sensual. And intimate. And shocking. The kind of words exchanged only between lovers.
The one I long to hold in passion’s throes.
He remembered. Because he felt that kind of longing.
But it wasn’t for his bride.
It was for the woman who made him laugh.
It was late when Merraid left the armory. But she was too rattled to do more than toss and turn on her pallet. She feigned sleep when young Swannoc and Ede, finished with their chores, climbed into the straw pallet next to her. And it was a long while before she could calm the lusty beating of her heart.
When she finally drifted off, her dreams were spiced with desire. Images of Gellir at his bath. Whispered words of seduction. Memories of his sweet and tender kiss.
The next morn she woke late. Too late to perform the ritual of hertaijiquan.It was Swannoc and Ede who jabbed her awake, telling her Lady Feiyan had a task for them in the garden.
Merraid quickly dressed and braided her hair. After the disturbing night she’d had, she was glad to be assigned work away from the keep. The second missive would be delivered to Gellir’s bride-to-be this morn. And Merraid wasn’t sure she was up to hearing the lady recite the erotic words she’d written.
An hour later, on her hands and knees in the dirt, Merraid forgot all about Lady Carenza and Sir Gellir. The sun felt pleasantly warm on her back. The soil was pleasantly cool under her fingers. There was a certain satisfaction in planting last year’s dried peas in the earth, knowing the spring rain would make them sprout and grow into new vines to feed the clan all summer long.
She used a stick to poke holes in the dirt, keeping the rows straight and the spacing even. Meanwhile, birds twittered from the forest, and Swannoc and Ede kept up a soft patter of conversation.
“I think she hates him,” Ede said, dropping a pea into the hole Merraid had made.
Swannoc covered it with soil. “What makes ye say that?”
