Highland Warrior by Connie Mason Page A

where he was sleeping or with whom, although she was quick to note that there were many attractive women at Ravenscraig, including Seana. No doubt they were eager to satisfy the laird’s sexual appetites.
    Gillian had exchanged but a few words with Ross since he had stormed from their chamber, and was surprised one night when he turned to her at the table and asked, “How are you faring, wife? You look well.”
    Startled, Gillian replied, “I am well, MacKenna.”
    “Are you ready to welcome me back into our bed?”
    Gillian’s gaze wandered past Ross to Seana, who was smirking, as if she knew something Gillian did not. “When pigs fly,” she said sweetly. “Have you tired of Seana? Mayhap I can suggest someone to take her place.”
    Though Ross appeared ready to explode, he kept his voice low. “Have you had your woman’s time yet?”
    Color slowly drained from Gillian’s face. Did he think she was carrying his baim? “Aye.”
    It was a lie she felt no guilt in telling. She had no reason to believe her woman’s time wouldn’t arrive when it was due. She peered at him through lowered lashes. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her, for he looked disappointed.
    Ross turned away to hide his frustration. He had been hoping his seed had found fertile ground in Gillian, and that motherhood would mellow her. But his firebrand was as feisty as ever, and his hopes for an heir dimmed. Mayhap he should consult with Gizela. She might have a potion that would make Gillian willing to let him make love to her. It wasn’t just heirs Ross wanted from Gillian. Nay, he desired her lush body, reveled in her response, no matter how unwillingly given; she aroused him as no other woman ever had. He had been walking around with a cock-stand since Gillian had refused him. For some unexplained reason, Ross had no desire to sate himself with another woman.
    While Ravenscraig had no shortage of attractive women willing to bed with him, he wanted none of them. No one but his fire-haired warrior woman would satisfy him.
    “What is wrong with you, lad?” Gordo asked when Ross continued to frown and shift food around on his plate. “You havena been yourself since your wedding. What has the MacKay wench done to you?”
    Ross growled at his uncle. “The wench has done naught; that is the problem.”
    “I suspected as much. ’Tis common knowledge you havena been sleeping in your own bed. Doona let the lass turn you into a milksop, Ross. If you want her, take her, but whatever you do, doona moon over her.”
    Ross’s head jerked up. “Is that what everyone is thinking? That I’m mooning over my wife?”
    “What else are we to think? We all ken you havena been the same since wedding the MacKay lass.” Gordo shook his head. “Bed her, Ross. Doona give her power over you. No one here will say you nay, and I am sure even Tearlach MacKay would agree.”
    Ross stared down at his plate in moody silence. He had no idea what was keeping him from bedding his wife, unless it was his pride. If wasn’t as if he didn’t desire Gillian. His stupid notion of wanting her to come to him willingly was just that: stupid. He turned his head to stare intently at Gillian. She flushed beneath his scrutiny and pushed herself away from the table.
    “I believe I shall retire. Good night,” Gillian said as she rose and hurried from the hall.
    “Go after her, lad,” Gordo advised. “I’m for a breath of fresh air.” He rose, stretched, and strode off.
    Ross brooded over Gordo’s unasked-for advice as he finished his second mug of ale and called for another. Damn Gillian for making him look like a besotted fool.
    Mayhap, he thought, he should beat her. Her willfulness certainly demanded punishment.
    Ross was so engrossed in his morose thoughts, he didn’t hear Seana sidle up beside him. “You look unhappy, Ross. Isna your marriage going well?” She leaned over, brushing her breasts suggestively against his shoulder. “Let me help you. I can