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"Oh," Murine said with understanding. They'd thought she'd be upset by the delay. Smiling crookedly, she said, "'Tis all right, Dougall. We can wait."
Her words made him scowl. "'Tis no' all
right. I want to marry ye, dammit."
She blinked and then blushed at the words, but patted his hand. "And so ye shall. I'm sure the priest will show up."
"Murine, ye do no' understand," Dougall said with a frown.
"What do I not understand?" she asked with confusion.
"We will ha'e to wait." His gaze dropped over her body and his hand tightened on hers as he stressed the word wait, and Murine suddenly understood. His brothers had been with them from the start until last night, and it sounded like they hadn't intended to be away then. They probably wouldn't be left alone again. Dougall meant that the heady taste she'd had of passion last night had been all there would be until they were properly wed and he didn't like that at all.
For some reason, his distress made her much more accepting of the matter. Smiling crookedly, she squeezed his hand back. "'Tis all right. I'm sure 'twill no' be long. If we have to wait for the priest, we have to wait."
Dougall scowled at her easy acceptance and pointed out sharply, "The longer we wait, the greater the risk yer brother will find ye and prevent our marrying altogether."
Murine stiffened at that suggestion. "But he has already checked at Buchanan. Surely he will not return?"
"Ye think once he checks and finds out ye're no' at MacDonnell, Drummond or Sinclair, he will no' head right back to Buchanan?" Dougall asked solemnly. "We were in the area when ye made yer escape, and he was told we'd yet to arrive home despite the fact that we left ahead of them."
"Aye," she agreed with concern, but then brightened and pointed out, "But 'twill take a while for him to check at MacDonnell, Drummond and Sinclair. MacDonnell may be close, but Sinclair is a good distance north, and Drummond is almost as far east. On top of that, traveling with such a large party will slow him down. Surely the priest will turn up ere he can visit each place?"
"Murine, he does no' have to visit each place himself," he said solemnly. "He can set up camp and send small, fast-moving parties to each of the holds to ask after ye. He can also send out several lone men to ask at the castles along the route to see if anyone saw ye or us in our travels."
"Oh dear," Murine breathed. He didn't have to explain to her that while they had not seen anyone on their journey that did not guarantee they themselves had not been seen. In fact, it was almost a certainty that they had. At Carmichael there were always men watching the roads and the land borders of the property for trouble. Sometimes they were hidden in the branches of a tree, unseen by travelers as they kept an eye out. Sometimes they were traveling the road, but rushed their horses into the woods with their thickets to hide themselves to let the travelers pass without needing to address them. But every laird knew who crossed or passed his land. Someone would have seen the Buchanan lads travel past with a lass and a bull, and Montrose would learn that. If he hadn't already, she realized. He might have already stopped to ask those questions.
"If he doesn't know already, Montrose could find out all that he needs to as soon as tomorrow night or the morning after at the latest," Dougall said now, verifying her own thoughts.
"And then he'd return to Buchanan," she realized unhappily.
"Aye." He nodded, his expression grim. "We need to marry quickly to protect ye."
"Oh," she said weakly.
"Now, there's no need to fret overmuch," Acair said when Dougall fell silent. "Aulay has already sent several men out to find and bring back a priest. But in the meantime, ye need to stay here."
"And it might be best do ye stay inside," Conran suggested, and when she glanced to him with a frown, he added, "Just in case he sends men to scout our land and one o' them stumbles across the cottage."
"Oh. Aye." Frowning, Murine turned to her soup, scooped up a spoonful and quickly slid it into her mouth. As the men had feared, their news had affected her appetite. She was no longer hungry, but it was sounding more and more like she might need her strength back as quickly as possible. There might be trouble ahead.
She was scooping up a second spoonful of soup when the door opened. Everyone turned to look as Rory entered, his "bag o' weeds" in hand.
He raised an eyebrow at their expressions, and explained, "Aulay thought I'd best come check on Murine's wound." He glanced to Dougall and added, "And then mayhap I should stay a bit. Just in case."
Murine turned silently back to her soup, and thought, Correction, there was definitely trouble ahead. At least the Buchanans must think there would be if they believed she needed seven men guarding her here in this little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised.
Murine had been relieved and very happy when she realized that Dougall had meant it when he'd told Aulay he planned to marry her. She liked Dougall, a lot. She respected his strength and intelligence and appreciated his kindness . . . and truly, the things the man made her feel with his kisses and caresses . . . Aye, she was a lucky woman and had thought her troubles over.
Obviously, she'd been far too optimistic. Anyone with half a thought in their head would have considered the sorrow and tragedy of the last three or four years of her life, and realized it wasn't going to be that easy.
Chapter 12
Murine shifted restlessly onto her side, relieved to find she could do so without her back complaining. She was sick unto death of sleeping on her stomach, and doing so was actually giving her aches and pains she did not appreciate. Sighing, she tucked one arm under her head and peered around the dark room. When Dougall had stressed the bit about waiting, she'd thought it cute and even flattering that he seemed so distressed by the idea of not having access to bedding her until they were properly wed. Now she was finding it much less so.
They'd spent the afternoon and evening talking and laughing with his brothers and uncle, playing chess and nine-men's morris. But the whole time, Dougall had been at her side, his arm and leg occasionally brushing against hers, his chest at her back as he leaned behind her to pass something to one of the other men or to accept a drink or whatnot that one of them passed to him.
By the end of the night, all she'd been able to think about was that at least they could share a good-night kiss. He was after all going to be sleeping in the hall outside the door of the upper bedchamber, so no doubt would walk her above stairs. Surely he'd get the chance to kiss her then, she'd thought and had been craving that kiss ever since. Her body had been longing for it, crying out for the opportunity to press itself against his as his mouth explored hers.
However, that kiss had never come.
The moment she'd announced her desire to retire, Dougall had popped to his feet as if he'd been waiting forever to hear the words. However, his uncle had also risen, announcing that he'd join Dougall on the floor outside her room to help guard her in case of an attack.
Dougall had looked like he wanted to hit someone at this news. As for Murine, she'd just wanted to cry. This waiting business was utter hell.
Sighing, she rolled back onto her stomach and then turned onto her other side so that she faced the door. For a while after she'd retired there had been the sound of laughter and deep voices from below. While Dougall and his uncle had bedded down at the same time as she, the others had apparently remained awake for a while. Now there was only silence though. Everyone appeared to be sleeping except her. She was lying there restless, wide awake and thirsty.
Murine grimaced at the last thought. She'd sipped all day at the tincture-laced cider Dougall had put out for her on first rising. She would have refused it altogether and requested undosed cider except that while checking and redressing her wound, Rory had commented that his tincture appeared to be doing her good, and that she was much farther ahead in healing than he'd expected. She'd decided she would drink the vile thing, but it was a nasty brew and it had taken her all day to get it down.
Now her mouth was so dry she doubted she could spit if her life depended on it. She wouldn't even mind accepting a drink dosed with the vile tincture at this point. Hell, she'd even welcome sleeping powder being added to it. Tha
t seemed preferable to lying there wide awake and aching for Dougall. Truly, the man was like pastry, so yummy that she wanted to gorge herself on him.
Muttering under her breath, she tossed the linens and furs aside and sat up in bed, then got to her feet to cross to the door. She considered dressing first, but every last one of the men had seen her in her nightgown. Besides, she suspected Dougall would be in a similar state to her own, wide awake, restless and wanting. If so, he'd no doubt insist on fetching the drink for her anyway so that he could dose it again with the strengthening tincture. Well, she thought, unless he wanted to risk slipping into the bedchamber with her while the others slept.
Murine supposed she should be shocked at her own thoughts and loose behavior, and she was sure she would be later. But right now she kept remembering the feel of his hands on her and the taste of him as he'd kissed her and she didn't give an owl's hoot that the church said 'twas wrong to enjoy such acts. She wanted Dougall, and God had made her this way so it couldn't be a sin.
Opening the door as soundlessly as she could, Murine peered out into the hall but couldn't see a darned thing. The fire below was dying and the dim light it gave off didn't reach up here. She wasn't even sure where Dougall and Acair were lying. After a hesitation, she took a step out into the hall, stopping abruptly as she accidentally kicked someone.
"Sorry," she whispered.
When a snore was her answer, Murine grimaced. She recognized that snore from the journey to Buchanan. So much for Dougall lying out here yearning for her, she thought grimly as a second snore answered from somewhere to her right. Both men were dead to the world. Judging by the various snuffles and snores coming from below, it seemed she was the only one awake.
