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He didn’t know whether it was the kiss or the wine, or simply the fact that he was letting go of days’ worth of frustration, but the heat that coursed through him when he kissed her was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He imagined all the things he could do to her, all the pleasure that he could offer her if only she let him. He imagined kissing her neck and trailing kisses down her chest, touching her, bringing her to the edge. He wanted nothing more than to take her to his chambers and continue his exploration of her body, kissing her every inch. He wished to taste her, to hear her breathy moans and feel her legs tightening around him as he would bring her closer to her climax with every thrust of his hips until she would fall apart beneath him, and he would bear witness to her ecstasy.
Nimue seemed to have other plans.
At first, Chrisdean could feel her relax against him, but that only lasted for a brief moment before she pushed him back and moved away from him, arms wrapping protectively around herself. The look that she gave Chrisdean was full of poison, and at that moment, he knew that he had made a colossal mistake, one that perhaps she would never forgive.
“How dare ye?” Nimue asked her tone and features vicious as she stared at him. “First ye kidnap me, and noo ye force yerself on me? What’s next, hmm? The gallows? The wolves? Ye’re a fool if ye think that an unwanted kiss will shift my affections towards ye, an absolute fool.”
Chrisdean had nothing to say to her, and no matter how much he wished to apologize, no words came out of his mouth, shocked as he was. He took a step forward, his hand reaching for Nimue, but seeing her recoil made him think twice about trying to touch her.
“I dinna wish to spend another moment in yer presence,” Nimue all but growled. “And I dinna wish to be yer guest. Either send me back home or imprison me, but dinna treat me like I’m anythin’ more than a means to an end for ye. I’ll be in me chambers. Only approach me once ye have an answer for me.”
Nimue stomped her way back into the castle without another word, leaving Chrisdean behind with a bruised cheek and ego. He watched her as she walked away, and he could hardly believe that he had been foolish enough to think kissing her was a good idea.
I thought it’d show her we’re a good match. I couldna have been more wrong.
He wondered if that was the last straw, but even so, his plans hadn’t changed. He knew that Nimue was furious with him and that she would most likely be furious with him for a long time, but he was still determined to change her mind and get her to marry him. The future of his clan and of Scotland depended on it, and if she couldn’t see it, then she was a fool.
Dejected, Chrisdean made his way back to the castle, eager to go to sleep, but before he could get to the staircase, a furious Mairi blocked his way.
“What did ye do?” she asked him.
“What do ye mean?”
“I mean, I just saw Nimue run up those stairs, and she didna look like a happy bride-to-be.”
“She doesna wish to marry me,” Chrisdean said with a small shrug. “Ye were right, and I ken that, so dinna tell me that ye warned me.”
“Ach, but I did,” Mairi said. “I told ye that ye shouldna just take her by force. I told ye to go to her faither, I told ye to get to ken her first, but did ye listen? Na. Ye dinna ken the first thing about women, laddie. If ye had only approached her the way ye should have, ye’d be married to her by noo.”
“Ach, Mairi, I’m yer Laird,” Chrisdean said, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed with her. Not only had she warned him—and had been right about everything—but he could never ask Mairi to call him anything but ‘laddie,’ as that was what she had always called him. “And all I want to do is sleep and rest and wake up the morrow to figure out what to do. I dinna wish to hear how wrong I was.”
The look that Mairi gave him reminded Chrisdean so much of his mother that it almost brought him to tears right then and there, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Mairi simply nodded at him and stepped aside, letting him go to his room.
Once he was there, he fell face-first onto the bed with a groan. He knew that he would have a blinding headache the following morning, not only because of the alcohol but also because of that slap, and just that thought made him dread waking up.
How could he fix what he had managed to ruin in a few moments? How could he convince Nimue that he would be a good husband to her? He had no intention of ever hurting her, after all, and if—not if, when, he corrected himself—she would agree to marry him, he would ensure her happiness, no matter what it took. All he had to do was to convince her that he had good intentions only.
It seemed to him like too much work for a single man since he knew just how stubborn Nimue was. Perhaps Mairi would take pity on him and help him, he thought, or perhaps Nimue would listen to Brock, like everyone else did. The man was always the voice of reason.
Securing a treaty with the King himself seemed much more likely than getting Nimue to like him, though, let alone love him. Frustrated, Chrisdean rolled over on his bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until his vision began to swim.
It was a problem for another day. Nimue and her rage would have to wait.
