Page 58 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Pulling her cloak tighter she slipped across and swung open the heavy timber door to find Ewan standing there. Her heart jumped at the sight of his smiling face.
He stepped inside, exclaiming against the cold. “God’s blood, Tyra. Ye’ll catch yer death, it is freezing in here. ‘Tis colder than the North Sea.” He rubbed his hands together. “What are ye daein’ here? Ye should be sharing me chamber. Have ye forgotten we are husband and wife now?”
She chuckled. “I daresay the servants anticipated I would sleep wi’ ye and that’s why there’s nay fire lit or candles in this chamber.”
“Then what are ye daein’ here, lass? I came in search of ye, thinking by now, ye’d be done speaking wi’ yer braither and his wife.”
“Truth tae tell, I wasnae sure where I belonged now.”
He took her hand and she felt the usual jolt of heat coursing through her veins. “Ye’ll sleep in me chamber from now on. ’Tis the place ye belong as me wife,” he said, his eyes dark and his tone possessive.
As he led her out of the room and into the hall that led to his chambers, she could not help but feel a flutter of anticipation in her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ewan escorted her along the passageway to his door where he lifted the latch and pushed it open. He turned to her, catching her arm as she was about to enter and seized hold of her. They stared intensely into each other’s eyes and she gasped as he drew her close, placed a hands at her waist and a hand behind her legs and lifted her.
Then, he pushed the door closed with his shoulder and strode into the chamber and across to the fire where he planted her on her feet by the fire, holding her steady for a few moments as she regained her balance. Their eyes were still locked. Waiting on a small table beside the hearth was an ewer of mead and an enormous, silver, loving-cup.
While she stood there, tingling from head to toe, her head spinning with delight, he filled it and, holding one side, passed it to her to drink her fill.
“I hold the cup and keep watch over ye as ye drink,” he said, husky-voiced, “’Tis me pledge tae ye Lady Tyra Mackenzie, and me life tae keep ye safe.”
Scarcely able to breathe, she bent her head and sipped the honeyed liquor while he retained his grip on the other handle, waiting.
Looking up, she smiled, licking the sweetness from her lips, conscious of his eyes on her mouth. When she met his eyes, they had gone from ice-blue to the darkest indigo.
He moved closer so that she breathed in his scent of soap and pinewood and leather and he bent and drank while she clasped her handle. When he lowered the cup again, she smiled up at him, her heart beating fast.
“And I keep watch over ye too, Ewan Mackenzie of Eilean Donan. Ye’re me husband now and mine tae care fer.”
His hand lingered on hers and their eyes met. And there was the connection again that had pulsed between them as they held each other’s gaze in the banqueting hall before the handfasting ceremony. It stretched like a magic cord, joining them, growing in strength, its steadfast pull gaining power with every beat of her heart.
He placed the cup on the table. “Thank ye fer sharing that with me,” he said simply.
“Thankye.” She smiled. “It is a most honorable tradition.”
As he moved towards the bed he asked “Did yer meeting wi’ Edmund and Annora go well?”
She followed him to the bed, aware that the closeness they’d shared with the loving cup was gone. Ewan sounded business-like, almost aloof.
“Aye. I believe they are convinced our marriage is genuine. That is, as genuine as it can be without the consummation that is required tae make it legal.”
He nodded. “We’ll speak about this, I promise. But I’m exhausted now. It has been a long day and I must rise early. There is much I must attend tae. I didnae complete therèiteach, I must ensure it is ready fer yer braither’s signature.”
She nodded. She’d not push him.
“Have ye decided how we are tae deal with the problem of the sheets smeared with blood?”
He gave a short laugh. “The merest specks of blood will satisfy the demands of the Council. A tiny prick of me finger after we waken on the morrow will suffice.”
It was a relief to know that the problem was one that could be readily overcome.
Ewan rose to his feet, yawning. “’Tis time we laid down our heads.” He unbuttoned his velvet jacket, tugged it off, and flung it recklessly over one of the chairs by the table. Then he began unbuckling his belt.
Looking on in sudden dismay, Tyra caught her breath.
“What are ye…?”
