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He didn’t wait to hear her protest. He marched off, though his steps were anything but firm and confident. The mud made him appear the complete opposite and he could almost hear her snicker.
How did he allow her her freedom, when it cost him his sanity? She was a strong, courageous and capable woman, but she was also his wife. While he didn’t wish to limit her, he also didn’t wish to live with a constant pit of worry in his stomach.
There was no telling what she would do. She was accustomed to being answerable to no one and being in charge. How could he expect her to change her ways in only a few weeks? Angus Bunnock had repeatedly warned him, after the marriage papers had been signed and sealed, that his daughter was much like him, a leader. Angus had wished Alyce had been born a male, for he confided to Lachlan that she would make a better laird than he had. And while Angus had grown angry with his daughter for failing to accept the men he had offered in marriage, he understood why she refused every one of them. But it was his duty to see her wed, while he would have much rather seen her lead.
Lachlan wiped the rain from his face in frustration. This return trip home was not going at all as he had planned. He had thought for sure they would have plenty of time to talk and settle some if not all the problems between them. It didn’t look as if that was going to happen.
They would reach home in a couple of weeks and if the weather continued as it had, it would leave them no time to spend together. There were no answers to his dilemma. It would be slow and steady steps for them both and in time…
He shook his head. She had warned that time would change nothing but then…
He smiled. Alyce truly didn’t know how charmingly persistent he could be.
They arrived at the Sinclare keep a tired, frustrated, rain-soaked troop all relieved and grateful to be home; all but one.
Rain followed them right to the front door of the keep, it serving only to help Alyce find fault with her new home. She didn’t care for the desolate moors that surrounded the village and tall keep that blended in color with the gray skies. From what she could see of the village, it looked prosperous and well tended, and she was surprised by the flurry of villagers, all with generous smiles, who braved the torrential rain to welcome the warriors home.
She was dismounting when Lachlan’s hands closed around her waist and helped her off her mare.
“Let me have the pleasure of—”
“Playing the gentlemen?” Alyce finished.
Lachlan pressed his cheek to hers and whispered, “No, just the opposite. I want the pleasure of touching you.”
His seductive whisper sent a shiver racing through her, especially since his remark conjured up visions of his hands intimately roaming her body.
“Tonight, we’ll finally have time alone,” he murmured and placed his hand in the lower curve of her back to guide her up the steps to the keep.
She got angry at her traitorous body for responding to his suggestive words and simple yet intimate touch and she lashed out at him. “I’m hungry, dirty, and tired.”
“I’ll feed you, wash you, and with gentle touches lull you to sleep,” he whispered.
She attempted to protest, though why she couldn’t say, since his offer was excitingly tempting, but he was quicker.
“You can berate me later, preferably while I’m washing you,” he teased with a smile. “Right now, prepare to meet my family.”
He pushed open the heavy wooden door and they entered the great hall. There was a bustle of activity and it took a moment for them to be noticed. Once they did, the women rushed to them.
“Thank God you’re home,” a tall, slim woman cried out.
Alyce could see the resemblance to Lachlan and knew the woman had to be his mother.
“We were worried with the weather being so bad,” a petite beauty toting a lad not yet a full year in her arms acknowledged.
“I told them you would be fine,” a red-haired beauty with startling green eyes and a babe swathed in a blanket cradled in her arms commented.
“You’ve had the babe, Zia,” Lachlan said, thrilled, and peeked at the sleeping child.
“I named her Blythe, after my mother,” Zia said proudly.
A man that Alyce reluctantly admitted to herself was handsomer than Lachlan, and definitely his brother, slipped his arm around Zia.
“Your wife looks exhausted. Introduce us so she can sit, rest, and eat.”
“My brother Artair, the only sensible one among us,” Lachlan said, both men reaching out to lock hands.
“Good to have you home,” Artair said and turned to Alyce. “Welcome to the family, Alyce.”
