boy, ye need to stop going off as ye please,” Shamus MacPherson admonished his
son. “Ye’re me son, and as sure as the Blessed Mother was pure, there are men who
would like to send ye home to me dead.”
“No doubt that’s why ye gave him a captain,” Symon supplied with a wink.
Bhaic’s eyes narrowed, and he tugged Ailis closer. “There are times a little privacy
is in order.”
Ailis watched Shamus MacPherson look at her. Really look at her. His face was wrinkled
from the harsh climate of the Highlands. His beard had gone completely white, but
his eyes were still the same brilliant shade of ocean blue. Just like his son’s.
“Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” He was the last man she’d ever expected a
compliment from. Yet it was there, in the twinkle in his eyes. He lifted a hand and
waved her off. “Go on and bid farewell to yer father.”
She lowered herself, placing one foot behind her and bending the knee to give him
deference.
She heard his captains making soft sounds of approval. Some of them were stroking
their beards in contemplation as she rose. Gaining respect from them would not be
simple.
Bhaic stepped into her path.
“Ye’ll be watched this time, Ailis.”
His tone was low enough to stay between them, but there was no mistaking the rage.
If she did miss it, all she had to do was look into his eyes to see the anger glittering
there.
The man was furious with her.
And she was going home with him.
May Day was the worst day ever to look for a husband.
* * *
“Ye scared her away,” Symon observed. “Nae exactly a good way to preserve the peace.”
“She was off in the woods with Lye Rob.”
Symon crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye know, it’s a fine good thing ye are nae
jealous of the lass.”
Bhaic growled and shoved his friend, but Symon only rocked back on his heels, regaining
his balance with a smirk. “Ye’re so busy being mad at the facts that have landed her
in yer hand, ye have forgotten to look at what a pretty little treat she is.”
“Shut yer mouth, Symon.”
Symon raised one finger instead. “On second thought…”
“The devil take ye,” Bhaic said. “I’ve got a fine memory. Mark me words, yer day is
coming, me friend. The day when a lass twists yer insides with naught more than a
look.”
His friend sobered. “It’s that intense?”
The disbelief in his friend’s tone was only a fraction of what Bhaic felt. He looked
at Ailis, his gaze running along the length of blond hair cascading down her back.
She had a pert nose and twin dimples in her cheeks. But it was her curves that made
him ache the worst. His cock began to stiffen again, hardening enough to press against
the heavy wool of his kilt. The damned thing had risen too quickly and too often at
the sight of Ailis.
Of course, she was his wife.
That fact made his lust far less unseemly, at least in theory.
But the application was going to be tricky.
His lips twitched.
He tried to fend off his amusement. There really were too many complications waiting
for them if they tried to make a go of their marriage.
But all he wanted to do was grin at the jest fate was dealing him. All of his adult
life, he’d been told chasing skirts was a sin. Now he had a wife, one the church would
agree was his for the taking, but she was the only woman in the Highlands he had no
business craving.
His enemy’s daughter.
The ghosts of his grandfather and great-grandfather were no doubt planning a nighttime
appearance to let him know what they thought about him bringing a Robertson bride
home.
Even the thought of the specters wasn’t enough to cool his passion.
But all the passion in the Highlands didn’t make for a good marriage.
* * *
“I’m drunk,” Liam Robertson declared.
Ailis studied her father for a moment. “No, ye are nae,” she corrected him gently.
“Ye never drink so much that yer wits desert ye.”
Her father
son. “Ye’re me son, and as sure as the Blessed Mother was pure, there are men who
would like to send ye home to me dead.”
“No doubt that’s why ye gave him a captain,” Symon supplied with a wink.
Bhaic’s eyes narrowed, and he tugged Ailis closer. “There are times a little privacy
is in order.”
Ailis watched Shamus MacPherson look at her. Really look at her. His face was wrinkled
from the harsh climate of the Highlands. His beard had gone completely white, but
his eyes were still the same brilliant shade of ocean blue. Just like his son’s.
“Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” He was the last man she’d ever expected a
compliment from. Yet it was there, in the twinkle in his eyes. He lifted a hand and
waved her off. “Go on and bid farewell to yer father.”
She lowered herself, placing one foot behind her and bending the knee to give him
deference.
She heard his captains making soft sounds of approval. Some of them were stroking
their beards in contemplation as she rose. Gaining respect from them would not be
simple.
Bhaic stepped into her path.
“Ye’ll be watched this time, Ailis.”
His tone was low enough to stay between them, but there was no mistaking the rage.
If she did miss it, all she had to do was look into his eyes to see the anger glittering
there.
The man was furious with her.
And she was going home with him.
May Day was the worst day ever to look for a husband.
* * *
“Ye scared her away,” Symon observed. “Nae exactly a good way to preserve the peace.”
“She was off in the woods with Lye Rob.”
Symon crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye know, it’s a fine good thing ye are nae
jealous of the lass.”
Bhaic growled and shoved his friend, but Symon only rocked back on his heels, regaining
his balance with a smirk. “Ye’re so busy being mad at the facts that have landed her
in yer hand, ye have forgotten to look at what a pretty little treat she is.”
“Shut yer mouth, Symon.”
Symon raised one finger instead. “On second thought…”
“The devil take ye,” Bhaic said. “I’ve got a fine memory. Mark me words, yer day is
coming, me friend. The day when a lass twists yer insides with naught more than a
look.”
His friend sobered. “It’s that intense?”
The disbelief in his friend’s tone was only a fraction of what Bhaic felt. He looked
at Ailis, his gaze running along the length of blond hair cascading down her back.
She had a pert nose and twin dimples in her cheeks. But it was her curves that made
him ache the worst. His cock began to stiffen again, hardening enough to press against
the heavy wool of his kilt. The damned thing had risen too quickly and too often at
the sight of Ailis.
Of course, she was his wife.
That fact made his lust far less unseemly, at least in theory.
But the application was going to be tricky.
His lips twitched.
He tried to fend off his amusement. There really were too many complications waiting
for them if they tried to make a go of their marriage.
But all he wanted to do was grin at the jest fate was dealing him. All of his adult
life, he’d been told chasing skirts was a sin. Now he had a wife, one the church would
agree was his for the taking, but she was the only woman in the Highlands he had no
business craving.
His enemy’s daughter.
The ghosts of his grandfather and great-grandfather were no doubt planning a nighttime
appearance to let him know what they thought about him bringing a Robertson bride
home.
Even the thought of the specters wasn’t enough to cool his passion.
But all the passion in the Highlands didn’t make for a good marriage.
* * *
“I’m drunk,” Liam Robertson declared.
Ailis studied her father for a moment. “No, ye are nae,” she corrected him gently.
“Ye never drink so much that yer wits desert ye.”
Her father
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