His Headstrong Bride, page 11
“My lord, your children wish to bid you a goodnight,” Margaret said.
For a moment, as she looked at his daughters, the sour expression on Iain’s face disappeared. There was nothing warm and friendly about him but at least he seemed a little less intimidating.
“Goodnight, Elspeth, Isobel,” he said with such an air of formality that Margaret itched to slap him.
“Goodnight, sir.”
Margaret blew out a breath of relief as the girls hurried off to seek their beds. She took her seat by her husband’s side and could feel the tension emanating from him.
“Your girls are very beautiful,” she said, trying to make conversation.
“They look like their mother.”
Was that distaste in his voice? Margaret really couldn’t tell. Iain hadn’t spoken to her about his first wife and she knew that he had loved her. Perhaps it was hard for him to look at the girls because they resembled her so strongly.
“But I think there is a touch of you there also,” Margaret said with a smile. “They are bright, strong girls and very charming.”
“You think me charming?” Iain challenged.
“At this moment, no, but you can be when the mood takes you.”
Iain made a sound that reminded Margaret of a horse expressing its displeasure and turned from her to fill his goblet with wine from the pitcher on the table. She met Ailis’ eyes behind his back and shrugged in response to the question she saw there. Clearly, Iain’s behavior had not gone unnoticed by his sister-in-law. Margaret had no idea what was eating at him. She would have thought her husband would be pleased to be here, back in his brother’s house and reunited with his daughters, but he’d spent the night acting as though someone had taken his favorite sword from him. Margaret had fixed a pleasant smile on her face and managed to hold it there all night, but she was reaching a point where she could no longer pretend that all was well.
“How long do you intend to continue with this childish behavior?” Margaret hissed in his ear. “You are acting like a churlish idiot.”
The look of fury in Iain’s eye as he turned to her should have made Margaret recoil but instead, she gritted her teeth and glared straight back at him.
“You dare to speak to me like that, madam?”
“I will not stay silent when you are behaving badly,” she said, trying to suppress the quiver in her voice as Iain leaned closer.
He took hold of her arm in a tight grip, not enough to bruise, but it was a warning nonetheless.
“It is not for you to judge how I behave,” he snarled.
Margaret tried to wriggle discreetly out of his hold, but it was no use. If she pulled any harder to get away from him, she would draw attention to their argument.
“I am your wife.” Her tone was softer now as she tried to placate Iain.
“Yes, and as such you are to honor and obey me, and keep your mouth shut. Is that clear?”
As tempted as she was to ask how she was supposed to respond when he’d just told her she had to be silent, Margaret knew there was no sense in prodding him any further.
“Yes, my lord.”
Iain let go of her arm and she instinctively rubbed the part where he’d gripped her so tightly. He hadn’t hurt her, not really, but her pride was somewhat wounded.
“Good, now to our bedchamber and ready yourself for a thrashing.”
“What?” All she had done was try to correct him for the appalling way he had sat there glowering all evening. It hardly warranted a punishment. Besides, she was not yet ready to withdraw for the night. She hadn’t had a chance to spend any real time with Ailis and Alexander.
“Now!” Iain roared, his voice carrying all the way to the back of the hall so that people turned to see what was happening. “Or so help me, I’ll spank you right here.”
Not wanting to risk further humiliation, Margaret got to her feet. She managed a quick nod to her hosts before turning and fleeing from the room.
* * *
Iain’s jaw ticked, a sign of his frustration, as he tried to ignore the weight of the appraisal coming from his sister-in-law. He knew she disliked him and that he had just given her further cause to criticize him. What happened with Margaret just now was unfortunate. He hadn’t intended to yell so loudly at her, but she needed to understand that when he issued a command, it was to be followed immediately. A man in his position acquired many enemies in his lifetime and her safety might depend on her ability to obey without question. Knowing that Ailis was just itching to make some impudent remark, he turned to her, raising a brow in challenge.
“There is something you wish to say, my lady?”
He could see the glint of hatred in Ailis’ eyes. He watched as Alexander laid a hand on his wife’s arm. To the casual observer, it would look like a loving gesture, but Iain knew that his brother was trying to warn Ailis to hold her tongue. True to form, she defied her husband.
“Margaret seems unhappy with your union.”
Iain shook his head dismissively. He and Margaret had not yet settled into the marriage. They were still discovering what each other’s expectations were. She might be a little unsure of things, but he didn’t think she was unhappy.
“It is less than a week since we wed,” he retorted.
“And already you’re treating her badly,” his sister-in-law spat viciously.
“Ailis,” Alexander warned. “These things take time. People have to grow accustomed to one another.”
Iain noted that his brother did not disagree with his wife’s assessment that his behavior toward Margaret had been unkind.
“Rubbish,” Ailis replied. “I knew you were the one for me from the very beginning.”
There was no containing the scornful sound that Iain let out as he heard that nonsense. It was just like Ailis to try to rewrite history to suit herself. In fact, she had been so desperate to escape from marriage to his brother that she’d climbed out a tower window.
“I seem to recall you risked breaking your neck to avoid marrying Alexander.”
“A temporary aberration,” Ailis dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I was afraid of the depth of my feelings. To fall in love so quickly is unsettling.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Iain sneered.
“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Was that pity in her voice? As she rose to her feet and bent to kiss Alexander, Iain glared at her back. “I will leave you now, Alexander, as I am sure you have much you wish to say to your brother.”
Iain almost laughed as she gave Alexander a pointed look and he answered it with a puzzled frown.
“I believe she expects you to talk to me about my feelings for Margaret.”
Alexander shook his head.
“That is no concern of mine, Iain, but your behavior is. You are not yourself this evening.”
Iain could argue that it was so long since they’d seen each other that Alexander was in no position to comment, but he held his tongue. The truth of it was he knew he was being incredibly sullen tonight. He felt ill at ease with the domesticity of castle life. A struggle raged within him between a yearning to return to battle and a desire to discover what family life might have to offer.
“I have much on my mind,” Iain said. He had no intention of discussing his inner turmoil with his brother so, instead, changed the subject. “There is a mission I must complete.”
“What is it?” Alexander asked. “Some errand for the king?”
“No, I have a child to retrieve.”
Alexander shook his head. “Oh, Iain, don’t tell me you have some bastard out there you expect your new wife to raise.”
“No,” Iain said in a measured tone, although he wanted to rip his brother’s head off for assuming the worst about him, “the child is Margaret’s. She bore Niall MacDonnell’s baby after she married William Sinclair. The child was taken from her.”
“But you know where it is?”
“Aye, James Douglas got the information from Sinclair’s brother.”
The way Alexander raised his eyebrows told Iain that he didn’t have to explain how Sir James had gone about extracting the information.
“So where is this child?”
“She’s in Glenurquhart, at the home of Sinclair’s cousin. The king has given an order for her to be released to my care.”
Alexander nodded as he seemed to absorb this news.
“Another girl?” he said with a grin. “When do we go to get her?”
“I planned to leave tomorrow. You intend to come with me?”
The look his brother gave him told Iain it had been a daft question.
“Even if Margaret was not your wife, the child is still a MacDonnell.”
“Thank you.” Iain was truly grateful that Alexander would be at his side when he went to seek out Margaret’s daughter. “Say nothing to your wife. Margaret does not know about this.”
Alexander nodded, and Iain was grateful that he didn’t question his decision to keep his plans from the women.
“Well,” Alexander said, getting to his feet, “I will bid you goodnight. My warm and willing wife awaits me in our chambers.”
Iain scowled at his brother’s back as he swaggered off to find Ailis and took a large swig of wine. He was going to have to seek his rest soon if he wanted to be up at dawn, but he doubted that he would find his own wife warm and willing. Pouring himself another goblet of Alexander’s expensive burgundy, he sat back in his seat and made himself comfortable. For now, Margaret could wait.
Chapter Twelve
Margaret paced back and forth in the bedchamber, wondering whether Iain was going to grace her with his presence some time tonight. It was several long hours since he’d banished her to their room and, with every moment that passed, she was becoming more and more furious with him. She understood that he had been angry with her for questioning his mood but threatening to spank her and sending her away in front of everyone was not acceptable. There was a time, not so long ago, when she would have accepted it was her husband’s right to treat her as he saw fit, but things were different now. Experience had made her strong enough to stand up for herself and she was not going to sit back quietly when Iain was in the wrong. He might be a hard man with a brutal temper, but she did not fear him. His sense of honor ran too deep for him to ever really hurt a woman, especially one he was duty bound to protect.
As time moved slowly on, Margaret realized that Iain was not going to come to her. Intending to go to bed, she shrugged out of her surcote and laid it across the trunk at the foot of their bed. She reached behind her to unfasten the hooks that held her dress together and then stopped. With things left unresolved between herself and Iain, she would not be able to get to sleep. Although she knew she ran the risk of making him even angrier, she decided to go and look for him.
She passed only servants as she made her way along the corridors and down the stairs to the Great Hall. The hour was obviously later than she’d thought if everyone had gone to their beds and she wondered just how long she’d been waiting for Iain to come to her. It had certainly felt like an eternity.
The hairs on the backs of her arms stood up as she made her way through the castle. She found it a bit frightening when it was so quiet. Shadows danced on the stone floors in corridors lit by flaming torches. A slight breeze shifted the corner of one of the great tapestries that hung on the wall and Margaret shuddered. This place held many ghosts and she tried to banish thoughts of them from her mind as she carried on along the corridor.
When she reached the Great Hall, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors, which creaked in protest. She stepped into the room and whatever unfounded fears she’d felt as she’d walked through the eerily silent passageways went up in a puff of smoke as a fiery rage ignited within her. Iain was there, slumped over the laird’s table, his head resting on his arm. Unbelievably, he was fast asleep. Enraged that he was slumbering so peacefully while she’d been waiting anxiously for him, Margaret slammed the doors behind her but even the resounding thump that echoed through the hall did not wake him. Considering the man awoke every time a leaf rustled when they’d been sleeping out in the wild, she could only assume that he’d drunk himself into a stupor.
Without a doubt, the most sensible thing Margaret could do would be to retreat to her bed and face him again in the morning when they might both be in a better frame of mind. Right now, however, rational thought was fighting a losing battle with the sheer rage swelling up inside her. Footsteps echoing in the silence, Margaret crossed the hall and stepped up onto the raised platform where the laird’s table sat overlooking the room. She stopped beside him and listened to his soft snoring for a moment. It was the most peaceful she’d ever seen him. He looked almost boyish as he slept. She wanted to reach out and stroke his face. Then she remembered her anger. How dare he just lie there as though he hadn’t a care in the world, when she’d been worrying herself silly about what he would do to punish her?
She raised her hand, wanting to slap him, but then another idea took hold of her. Lifting the almost full pitcher of wine from the table, she tipped it over his head. Arms flailing, Iain woke with a start. Coughing and spluttering, he sprang to his feet. For a split second he looked confused and then cold fury settled across his harsh features. Margaret shrank back as she realized he’d drawn his dagger from his belt and was pointing it straight at her.
“What the devil are you doing, woman?” he demanded as he swept the drenched hair back from his face.
“Iain, the knife,” Margaret whispered, instinctively raising the pitcher in front of her as he came toward her.
The surprise on her husband’s face told her he had not intended to threaten her with the blade. He had simply drawn it reflexively when she disturbed him. He tossed the dagger onto the table and continued to advance on her. She still held the pewter jug up as a shield.
“What are you planning to do with that?” Iain demanded.
Before she could respond, he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her up against her chest. In one swift movement, he dropped back onto his seat and tipped her up, so she found herself face down over his lap. Disoriented, she tried to push herself off his knee, but he shoved her down, whipped up her skirts, and began to spank her with fast, furious blows. Feeling the sting almost immediately, she struggled to free herself from his viselike grip.
“Hold still or I’ll redden your arse so you’ll not sit comfortably for a month.”
The threat was a clear exaggeration, but Margaret was not about to test his ability to make her suffer. She could feel the anger radiating from her husband. His whole body seemed to be shaking and she knew he was making a huge effort to hold himself in check. The spanking hurt, but things would go worse for her if she pushed him to lose control. As blow after blow rained down, her flesh heated unbearably. Tears burned the corner of her eyes and she whimpered as Iain’s palm connected with her tender buttocks. After spending three days in the saddle, provoking him into spanking her had not been a good idea.
“Stop it!” she cried out as Iain’s palm struck her right cheek, sending fire through her flesh. “Stop, it hurts.”
To her amazement, Iain did stop. He lifted her by the waist and deposited her on the floor, so she was kneeling between his thighs.
“Perhaps you would like to demonstrate your contrition in another way.”
The intense gleam in his eye as he began to unlace the fastenings of his braies to free the enormous bulge within made Margaret uneasy. She knew what he wanted her to do and that he would not hold back. In his current mood, he would use her mouth ruthlessly, leaving her choking and crying for mercy. Although she longed to worship his cock again, she was not going to accept it like this.
“Put that thing near my mouth and I will bite it off,” she spat venomously as she struggled to her feet.
“Bite me and I’ll flay the skin right off your arse!” Iain roared into her face as he rose from his seat.
Margaret could feel her blood boiling and even in the face of his ire, she wasn’t about to back down.
“Oh, go swive an ox!”
Breathing heavily, the couple stared at each other for a moment and then, unexpectedly, Iain’s lips quirked up into a smile.
“You do not fear me,” he said as though he found such a thing impossible.
“No, I do not fear you,” Margaret agreed. Although there were, in fact, times when she as a little afraid of him, she still trusted he would not harm her. “Do you want me to fear you?”
Iain shook his head. “But I will have your respect, lass, and your obedience also.”
Margaret lowered her gaze. “You have them, my lord.”
Iain placed a finger beneath her chin and dragged her face upward until she was forced to meet his gaze.
“Do I?” he asked. “It did not seem like it earlier.”
“I was frustrated and concerned for you,” Margaret replied truthfully, “but you have my respect, Iain and I will make more of an effort to obey you.”
He made a low, humming noise as he seemed to consider her words. She hoped that he could see that she was sincere. She knew there would be times when she would challenge him, but she never wanted him to think that she did not respect him or that she was not trying to do what he told her.
“And do you still wish me to swive an ox?” he asked, pulling Margaret close and bending down so his mouth was inches from hers. “Because there is another stubborn creature I would rather fuck.”
Before she could protest that she was not the stubborn one, Iain’s lips descended on hers. He kissed her with possessive force, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his hands cupped her aching bottom. He hauled her against his muscular chest and held tight. Tasting of the sweet, sticky wine she had poured over him, he attacked her mouth with a ruthless determination to mark his ownership. Margaret sighed in contentment as she savored the fruity tang of the grapes as his tongue slid over hers. She wanted this, to feel his hunger for her.
