Christie seemed to be enjoying the conversation of Angus and Tosh. Tosh in particular, whose laughter she seemed to find infectious. And Angus, feeling shut out of their burgeoning connection, maybe, homed his focus in on me.
I really might have had too much ale, I feared. My vision seemed slightly off-kilter. I enjoyed the light hues of Angus’s hair, I did admit to him. They caught the candlelight. I tried to excuse myself, to make my way toward Wilkie, to ask him and forgive him, but Angus blocked my way.
The room was swirled at the edges, darker now, full of people, and the noise of it was almost comfortinglyraucous, as though the gathering had found its harmony, even if I had not. Music played. People were well immersed now in their evening.
“You didn’t tell me where you’re from,” Angus persisted, leaning in closer. So close, in fact, that a drop from his drink spilled from his goblet, wetting the pillowy curves of my exposed upper breasts. Angus, noticing this, touched his finger very gently to the droplet of warm liquid, tracing a line. The touch unsettled me greatly. I flinched back from him, but I was already pressed up against the wall. Perhaps noticing my unease, he withdrew his lingering touch. Then, watching my eyes, he licked his finger.
Angus’s hand was grabbed by a larger hand, surprising him.
A looming dark figure was at my side. I recognized his scent and the energy of him before I even saw who he was; it infused me with comfort and lit me from within. Wilkie dropped Angus’s hand, which Angus then fondled with his other hand, as though it was paining him.
Wilkie looped his muscular arm around me protectively, drawing me close to his body. “Angus,” Wilkie said. “I trust you’re enjoying yourself. You must help yourself to more food and drink at the table.” His words had a suggestive thrust to them, as though behind the kind invitation there was an unyielding order.
“Wilkie,” Angus greeted him. His tone was tinged with his lingering surprise, respect, a hint of disappointment at the interruption. He took his leave, fully registering Wilkie’s unspoken dismissal.
Truly, I had never felt so relieved and elated. I couldn’t find my earlier anger or jealousy. My warriorwas here with me. And my inhibitions, as a result of the cup of ale I had imbibed, were fairly nonexistent. I was glad for his closeness now for that reason as much as any other; I wasn’t sure of what I might do.
Wilkie looked big and half-crazed in the dim lighting of the now-rowdy crowd. His eyes were not on me but on Angus for a time, and they were dark and smoldering, dangerous in intent. He held me tightly against him, perhaps forgetting himself in the very-public circumstance.
And I, too, in my loosened state forgot all restraints. My body was pushed up roughly against him, my breasts barely contained in the soft pink fabric of my dress. His thigh was pressed up against my own, delivering heat. And his mouth, parted for his heavy breath, was only inches from mine.
I only just stopped myself from pressing my mouth to his, instead standing on my tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “I missed you, warrior.”
He didn’t respond to me or even look at me, continuing his furious silence, as though attempting to contain himself and having difficulty with it.
It might have been the ale that emboldened me; I felt quietly reckless. I leaned to him again, whispering, “I want to kiss you.”
He yanked me closer to him and looked down at me fiercely.“Roses.”
I stared back at him, alarmed by his reaction.
“I’m a blithering idiot as it is, with desire for you,” he rasped at me. “Show me some mercy.”
“For me?” I asked him skeptically.
“Aye,”he said, and there was clear anger in his voice. “For you.”
I glanced over at Maisie. Her glare promised death, upsetting me. “What of the Morrisons?”
“Don’t talk of them,” he growled. Then, as though able to take no more, he whisked me out of the dark fringes of the hall and into the darker hallway without a backward glance. I had a feeling Laird Mackenzie would be less than pleased with Wilkie’s departure. But then, his other three siblings were doing their utmost to make a potential match this night; I’d witnessed at least two of them for myself.
It might have been a full moon, I wondered, since everyone was acting slightly mad, myself in particular. I was still clasped against Wilkie’s chest. As soon as we reached the staircase, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to his chambers.
And once he’d kicked the door closed behind us, slamming it, he gently set me down, next to the dying fire. He didn’t touch me. Instead, he walked over to the table, where several empty cups and bowls sat, and he upturned the entire table in one violent heave, smashing it against the wall, where several of the vessels clattered loudly against the stones and bounced to the floor. One of them shattered.
Shocked, I took a step back.
But I wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, his temper fired my desire for him even more. I trusted him, and I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Or at least I hoped it. What he might do to me with his anger, though, set my blood to a simmering boil.
He went to the bed and sat, taking off his boots and tossing them aside. Then he looked at me.
I had never seen his eyes so menacing and sparked. He crooked a finger, beckoning me. “Come here.”
Tentatively, I went to him. I stood before him.
He put his hands on my hips and pulled me between his thighs, hugging me to him and resting his head against me. There was a note of desperation in his embrace.
I ran my fingers along the strands of his thick hair, claiming him and reclaiming him. “’Tis all right,” I whispered, feeling the need to comfort him.
