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Chrisdean knew that the best thing he could do was be honest with Nimue. He had hidden things from her for too long, and now was the time for him to come clean, but the vicious look that she gave him had him regretting his decision.
“We are na getting’ married,” she said. “Ye’ve asked me again and again, and every time, I’ve said na. Ye should never have written to me faither! Especially since there will be na wedding! Look what ye’ve done!”
“Aye, aye, I ken,” Chrisdean said. He didn’t want to hear any of Nimue’s scolding, and he certainly didn’t want to hear yet another rejection. “What’s done is done, lass. And noo this George Wentworth will destroy our clan.”
“Only if ye refuse to return me to me faither,” Nimue said, though there was a hesitation in her voice, a certain tone that Chrisdean hadn’t expected to hear. “And then he’ll kill me faither, too. I beg ye, Chrisdean. I beg ye . . . dinna let him kill me faither. Let me go back.”
Chrisdean almost flinched at the sound of his name coming from Nimue’s lips, surprised that she hadn’t called him ‘me Laird.’ As much as he wanted to reassure her, though, he also had to think about his clan.
“I canna do that,” he said, shaking his head. “The moment I give ye back to yer faither, Wentworth will attack our lands, and we willna be able to stop him. Our neighborin’ clans may side with us, but na one else will. We will all be doomed if I give ye back.”
Nimue blinked in surprise as she looked at Chrisdean, the shock evident on her face. She pulled back from him, her hand slipping out of his as she put some distance between them, and after a few moments of contemplation, she stood and began to walk away. Alarmed, Chrisdean jumped off the bench and followed her, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Where are ye goin’?” he asked, as Nimue pushed his hand off her.
“I’m leavin’,” she said. “Ye can try to stop me, but I ken that ye dinna wish to hurt me. So I’m leavin’. I’m goin’ home.”
“Nimue, please . . .” Chrisdean grabbed her again, and this time, Nimue didn’t try to push him off. “I need ye to listen. If ye leave, Wentworth will kill us all.”
“If I stay, he’ll kill me faither.”
Nimue sounded desperate, her voice cracking as she spoke. Chrisdean wished that there was something he could say to take that pain away, but he didn’t know what those words could be.
“Ye dinna wish to marry a man like Wentworth, surely!” Chrisdean said. “The only way to save ye, the clan, and yer faither is for us to marry.”
“Me faither—”
“Listen to me,” Chrisdean pleaded. “If ye marry me, yer faither will have na choice but to support the clan and all of Scotland. And if he does, then all of Scotland will support him. All of Scotland will be on his side. Wentworth willna dare touch him if he has such a force behind him. I promise ye, yer faither will be safe.”
For a few moments, Nimue didn’t speak. She simply stood there, glaring at Chrisdean, and he could tell that many thoughts were crossing her mind, but she shared none of them with him. He wondered what those thoughts could be; he wondered what she was going to do, what she was going to say to him, but he didn’t push her. Instead, he waited for her reply, his gaze never leaving her.
With a sigh, Nimue nodded in agreement. “Verra weel. Since it seems that I have na other choice, I will marry ye.”
It wasn’t the enthusiastic reply that Chrisdean would ideally have gotten, but it was more than he could ask for. After a few moments, once her reply had sunk in, he nodded as well, a small smile passing over his lips.
“I promise ye that I’ll try to make ye as happy as I can,” he said. “I ken that this is na what ye wanted, but I want ye to ken I will be a good husband to ye.”
Nimue gave him a small smile, one that barely tugged at the corners of her lips. Her gaze had softened, though, and with it, her tone as she spoke. “I believe ye,” she said. “It’s alright. It may na be what I had in mind as a wee lassie, but na part of my life has turned out the way I thought it would. Who kens? Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Chrisdean felt a wave of relief wash over him at Nimue’s words. Still, he didn’t allow himself to be too optimistic, as it sounded like Nimue still had her doubts. “But ye didna want to marry me,” he reminded her.
“Na, I didna,” she confirmed. “But a lass can change her mind.”
Before Chrisdean could even realize what Nimue’s words meant, she had moved closer, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. It was a gentle touch, and he responded by placing his own hand on her waist and pulling her closer.
Her only reason for trying to reject him, he noticed, was the safety of her father. Never once had she said that she didn’t want him.
Chrisdean had stopped himself from kissing her many times ever since she had told him to never kiss her again, but now it only seemed proper, he thought. She was looking at him expectantly, her red lips parted, her eyes heavy-lidded, strands of her hair falling on her bared neck. Chrisdean had no choice but to bridge the gap between them, kissing her the way he had wanted to kiss her for a long time.
Nimue moaned against his lips, a soft, barely audible sound that had him wishing he could bed her right then. His hand moved to her hip, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress, and he began to kiss a trail down her neck, nibbling on her pale skin, and then lower, down to the part of her breasts that was exposed by the neckline.
When he kissed her skin, he couldn’t help but wonder how she tasted between her legs. To lose himself inside her, he wanted to learn everything there was to know about her body. He wanted to hear her moans as he took her for the first time; Chrisdean wanted to see those beautiful eyes of hers when he first entered her. The mere thought of her taste on his lips made him dizzy with desire, and he had half a mind to drop to his knees in front of her right then and there.
He could feel his trews getting uncomfortably tight as he hardened, the soft gasps and moans that left Nimue’s lips spurring him on as he tugged her neckline just a little lower with a finger, eager to see and kiss more of her.
And just like that, Nimue pushed him back and stood. “Na here,” she said, her voice rough and laced with desire. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and the color crept onto her chest, driving Chrisdean mad with desire. “And na before the wedding.”
Before he could say anything or even compose himself, she had turned around and left, only giving him a cryptic smile before disappearing. Chrisdean watched her as she walked away, speechless, and could hardly believe that Nimue had not only agreed to the wedding, she had surrendered herself to him, allowing him to pleasure her. The only problem was that he wanted more, so much more, and he didn’t know how he could be patient until their wedding night.
Weel . . . this is a better start than I could have hoped for.
Now that the two of them had come to an agreement, the wedding would have to be soon; if not that very same day, then the next, Chrisdean thought, and the mere notion made his hands tremble and his forehead perspire. There was no going back now, he told himself.
And he didn’t think he wanted to go back at all.
