Neacal could hardly believe how the light touch of Anna's hands at his waist, holding on while they rode, aroused him until he was near insane with it. If she but moved her hand a wee bit south, she might encounter more than she bargained for.
Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he thought back about the young ladies who had come as bride candidates. Not one of them sparked his interest as Anna did. In fact, he could hardly remember any of their faces. They were just girls… most likely girls who were terrified of him. And he didn't care. He didn't want to calm any of their fears. He didn't plan to go near them.
But with Anna, 'twas a different story. She did not fear him, and 'haps she halfway trusted him. At least, physically she did, but she still would not reveal her secrets. He would get the whole story out of her, one way or another. It might take a lot of time, which he didn't mind at all. He wanted to spend more time alone with her. That was why he hadn't forced her back to the castle.
The tavern in Acharacle popped into his mind. The Red Stag had a couple of small rooms over it, for rental. Damnation. He could think of naught but carrying her up the stairs to a private chamber. But he couldn't do that. She was a respectable woman.
Still, the kiss against the standing stone would not leave his thoughts. He had been entranced… transported to a realm where only sensation and Anna reigned. He could've happily stayed there forever, exploring every inch of her. But that was impossible—he muttered another curse—or was it? The elders wanted him to get married. Why couldn't he marry Anna? If she would have him.
He knew why he shouldn't marry her. His bride was supposed to bring an abundance of soldiers or wealth to the MacDonald clan. Anna could not do that. At least, he didn't think she could. She obviously had no money or clan or she wouldn't be a traveling minstrel. If she was a wealthy widow, she would be tucked away somewhere in a manor house with many servants waiting on her. She would not need to sing for a living. The elders would never approve of Anna as a wife for him, but what did he care? He'd been a rebel for most of his life. Why stop now?
Anna could bring something to his life he'd never expected… happiness. Though he should not even think of happiness, for he didn't deserve it, he couldn't help himself. Once he'd experienced the joy of her presence, he found he was addicted to it.
Anna's fingers pressed lightly against his stomach, completely distracting him, bringing sensations of what her soft, gentle hands would feel like running all over him. Stroking. Caressing.
Saints!
He breathed deeply and tried to dispel the excitement and lust rampaging through his veins. He had not been so keenly interested in a woman in years, if ever. And now he would marry her… if she was willing. Because of her eager kisses, he thought she would be.
Maili had married the man she chose. Neacal could've said nay and forced her to marry some old and powerful chief who wanted to be an ally, but why should he force his beloved sister to live a miserable life? He wouldn't do it to her, so why would he do it to himself? If he had to sacrifice all for the clan, 'haps being chief wasn't his destiny.
When they reached the outskirts of the village, full dark had fallen but the moon shone brightly. The torches and glow from the windows seemed welcoming. Neacal would rent two rooms for the night at the tavern. He would talk to the proprietor about allowing her to stay here for a few days, until Neacal figured out why she should wish to leave Bearach. Surely, it had something to do with the clans who were visiting. Once he'd sent them on their way, he would come back here and retrieve Anna.
In front of the tavern, he dismounted, then helped her down.
"Wait here with Dunn while I speak with the proprietor," Neacal said.
"Very well," she said, blushing and looking highly uncomfortable.
"Is aught amiss?"
"Nay." She shook her head but would not meet his gaze. Instead, she glanced around at the village.
She needed someone to protect her, someone she could rely on. Something deep within him clawed upward toward the light, grasping, yearning to be that man. His stomach knotting, he shoved the greedy sensation away and tried to appear normal.
"I'll be right back," he told her, then strode into the Red Stag Tavern and glanced around the near empty room. 'Twas late and most people had gone home. The owner, Korbin MacDonald, stood behind the bar.
"Chief MacDonald," the stocky man greeted with a friendly smile, then came forward. His brownish-gray hair and beard were a bit longer than the last time Neacal had seen him. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
Neacal shook his hand. "I'm helping a young woman. Could we rent both of your rooms for the night?"
"So happens I only have one room left, but you're welcome to it free of charge." The man winked.
Damnation, he thought Neacal wanted to entertain Anna… which, he was ashamed to realize, wasn't far from the truth. But he couldn't take advantage of her. "I'll be happy to pay for it."
"Nay, I insist. 'Tis a gift for our new chief."
"I appreciate it, but the young woman, Anna Douglas, will need to stay here for several days, perhaps a sennight or two. I'll be glad to pay."
"Well, then, the first two nights are on me." Korbin glanced toward the entrance, his eyes widening.
Neacal turned to find Anna approaching, her cowl lowered, revealing her lustrous blond hair. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. He'd wanted her to stay outside until he had things arranged.
"I'll sing in exchange for room and board," Anna said.
"Sing?" Korbin asked. "You're a minstrel, then?"
"Indeed, I am."
