held them out. Mairi chose to believe he merely worried whether she would appreciate the offering. She decided to ignore the intensity of his regard. God’s truth, he rarely blinked.
“I thank ye!” she muttered, quite taken aback by the gesture, perfunctory as it was. He certainly wasted no time. Or tenderness. However, he had made an effort and she would give him the credit for it.
“Coom with me,” she ordered, reaching for the strong hand she had just emptied of the blooms. She grasped it and pulled him along toward the bank of the stream, set upon making friends with the man, no matter how rough his manners.
He dropped to a sitting position, gently pulling Mairi down with him. Once seated, he glanced at the water, shot her a look of daring and began to remove his boots.
Intrigued at his unexpected hint of laddie-like behavior, she took the dare and did likewise, tossing her shoes and hose over her shoulder onto the grass. In moments, they sat side by side, bare feet slowly swishing in the cold, clear water.
“Ah, here’s a pleasure, in’t?” she commented, lying back upon the lush carpet of green behind her. “Have ye such a place near yer home? Somewhere special to ye as this one is to me?”
Though he did not answer, he reclined on one elbow, leaned over her and fixed that avid gray gaze upon her face. For a moment Mairi thought he might kiss her, but he only reached for the flowers she still held in her hand and chose one.
“Beauty,” he whispered gruffly, teasing her nose with the petals. “Here,” he said, dragging the flower across her lips. “Here,” he repeated, drawing it down her neck to the edge of her chemise that peeked above her gown. “Hiding,” he teased, trailing the small bloom across the fabric covering her breasts and stomach.
Heat flared within her. More than anything, she wished to see that smile of his. She had surprised it out of him once at the stable. Could she do it again?
“Kiss?” she murmured coyly, adopting his peculiar habit of brevity in speech.
As an answer, he simply lowered his mouth to hers. After a moment’s gentle press of his lips, he eased hers open with his tongue. She’d never been kissed so in her life. More’s the pity, Mairi thought, enjoying the sensation immensely. She quickly responded to his exploration with a foray of her own.
She met the hot, wet warmth of his mouth, tasting his heat as her own increased. Encompassed and loving it, Mairi saw no need to withdraw. They gave and took with an abandon that sent a trail of fire down her middle, a consuming blaze she could scarcely control. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as sparks danced behind her eyelids.
When he drew back, breathing as heavily as she, Mairi blinked up at him in wonder, realizing that nothing save their mouths had touched. If he could wreak that sort of havoc with only lips and tongue, whatever might he do with the rest of him? She released a heavy sigh and closed her eyes again, just imagining.
“You want me?” he asked. And sounded serious.
“Is the sky blue?” she replied wryly, eyes still shut, a silly grin stretching her lips wide. “What do ye think, ye foolish lad?”
He laughed. A strange sound, she thought. Too loud and abrupt, as if he did that rarely and it had caught him unaware.
Mairi rather liked his laughter the more because it was not planned. Because she had surprised it out of him. Surely a man could love a woman who made him laugh, especially if he had little laughter in his life.
She would provide that for him, Mairi decided on the instant. Laughter and children. Both, in abundance. She laughed, as well, delighted by the notion.
He seemed easier to be with now, more comfortable in her presence after their kiss and her bit of teasing.
For what seemed hours, they lay side by side, the fingers of her right hand interlaced with those of his left. Now and again, he would turn his head to look at her—sometimes quizzically, other times with satisfaction—but no words passed between them. She detected a ripple of uncertainty beneath his calm, as though he wished to speak of something, but held back.
What a mystery he was! Why did he not ask questions of her or tell her about himself? Mairi longed to know about the home he planned to offer her and the route they would take to reach his keep in the Midlothian.
She kept waiting for him to say something first, so that she would not seem too forward as she must have done last night. But he appeared content to simply lie there, soaking up the errant rays of sun that stole through the foliage of the leaf-laden branches overhead.
Despite her eagerness to learn more of him, there was much to be said for this silent reflection, Mairi thought to herself. Somehow she felt a kind of peace had sprung up between them so that now they might go on from here to some sort of closer communion. It could only bode well for their marriage, their getting on this well after so short a time.
She felt badly for misjudging him last evening and treating him to that wicked temper of hers. Her worst failing was to judge too quickly. He was not the first to suffer for it, but she would make amends.
Likely he had only been tired and out of sorts from the long journey. And very shy, of course. Mairi was firmly convinced that was his greatest problem. Nothing she could not alter, of course. Anyone would vouch that Mairi MacInness harbored not one shy bone in her body.
In a while he got up, replaced his boots and found her shoes and hose for her. While she donned them, he left her to fetch the basket still lashed to her mare’s saddle.
Silently, speaking only with their eyes, they ate, relishing the food and imagining each other’s thoughts.
He held out a sliver of cheese. Mairi leaned forward and accepted it, grazing the tips of his finger and thumb with her lips as she did so. The heat in that gray gaze rekindled the fire inside her his kiss had first ignited. She carefully banked it for now. There were the vows to say yet and he mustn’t think her wanton.
What a strangely intimate meal it was. Now that they had kissed, MacBain’s eyes spoke clearly of what he would rather be doing. Yet he restrained himself, as did she. She chose to believe he did so out of respect for her and applauded that, even as she regretted the rightness of his restraint.
“We should go back,” she said slowly, reluctantly, when they had finished the meal.
He nodded and began to help her gather up the cloths and cups and place them in the basket. Then he rose and offered her his hand.
The instant she gained her feet, he drew her into his arms and surrounded her with his strength. Mairi could feel the warmth of his lips brush the crown of her head.
Never had she felt so protected. And wanted, too. She could hear his heartbeat against her ear when she pressed her head comfortably against his chest. Mairi decided she could stay where she was forever and be content.
The sound of distant thunder distracted her. Puzzling. It had not rained for several days and she had seen no clouds anywhere this morn.
Suddenly he tensed, his hands grasping her shoulders as he set her away from him. When she looked up to question him, she saw how watchful he had become, how alert and still, as though expecting danger.
His nostrils flared as if seeking a particular scent. Then he looked down at her. “Do you hear?”
“Only thunder,” she replied with a shrug. “Still far away, though. It will not reach us for some time yet, but—”
He placed two fingers over her mouth. “Listen.”
Mairi obeyed, tuning her full attention to the rumbling noise. “Not thunder!” she whispered in awe, clutching his forearms. The sound did not abate or vary, but was constant and growing louder. “Hoof beats!” she cried, pushing him away, toward their mounts. “A raid! Coom, we must hurry!”
But MacBain rushed ahead of her. He leaped onto his horse and drew his sword. “Wait here!” he commanded, whirled his mount around and set off at a gallop.
Mairi