“The healer willna hurt you. What is it this time, Gizela?”
“Shall I change the bandage on your hand, laird?”
Ross flexed his hand. “ Nay, ’tis fine.”
The old crone stared intently at Gillian. “ ’The laird has been waiting a long time for the flame to arrive.”
“I doona ken,” Gillian replied.
Gizela pointed a bony finger at Ross. “The laird kens.” She smiled vacantly. “Enjoy your punishment, Gillian, lass.” Then she ambled off.
“What is she talking about, MacKenna?” Gillian wanted to know. Ross shrugged. “Gizela rarely makes sense.”
“Why will I enjoy being punished?”
“That I
can
answer. You will enjoy your punishment because I will make it enjoyable for you.”
Gillian narrowed her eyes. “You’re not talking about hurting me, are you?”
Ross snorted. “Hardly” He prodded her up the stairs.
“Ross, I’d like a word with you before you retire,” a voice called from behind them.
Ross turned his head. “Gordo, canna this wait until tomorrow?”
“Nay, lad, it canna.”
“Verra well.” He turned to Gillian. “I willna be long, lass.”
“Take your time,” Gillian replied.
Gillian hurried up the stairs to the solar. She could well imagine the kind of punishment Ross had in mind, and wanted to be in bed and asleep before he arrived. Alice was waiting to help her undress. While Alice folded and put away her mistress’s clothing, Gillian washed and put on a clean shift. Then she dismissed Alice and climbed into bed.
Her plan almost worked. She was hovering on the verge of sleep when Ross entered the chamber. He advanced toward the bed and stared down at her.
“You can stop pretending, wife. I know you are awake.”
Gillian lifted her eyelids sleepily “I thought you were meeting with your uncle.”
Ross tossed back the covers and pulled her from bed. “Gordo told me Sinclairs have been spotted on Ravenscraig land. What mischief have you been plotting with Angus Sinclair?”
Gillian wrenched her arm free. “Give me some credit, MacKenna. While I doona think this truce between our clans will last, I doona wish to see another of my loved ones fall beneath a MacKenna sword. I planned naught with Angus. I am your wife.”
Ross searched her face so long, Gillian began to fidget beneath his intense scrutiny. Suddenly his face softened and he pulled her against him.
“You are right. You
are
my wife, and I intend to have you, lass. Doona try to fight me. Gizela had the right of it.” His mouth hovered scant inches from hers; she could almost taste him. “I can feel your flame scorching me. I must conquer it before it consumes me.”
“Am I the flame?” Gillian asked.
He ran his fingers through her hair, holding the bright strands out for her inspection. “What do you think?”
“I think Gizela is mad, and you along with her. Release me. I am tired and in no mood to be conquered.”
Ross grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised it to meet his mouth. “We are wed; if I am in the mood to conquer, you
will
be conquered.”
Immediately Gillian twisted free. “Our vows have been consummated; we doona need to do
that
again.”
Angry heat shimmered through Ross. “Are you suggesting that we forgo marital relations for the duration of our marriage?”
“Aye, that would be my preference.”
Gillian looked so hopeful Ross nearly laughed aloud. “What about heirs? Am I to be denied children of my own?”
“A man like you must have countless bairns running about the countryside.”
Ross’s dark brows lowered. “I have sired no illegitimate bairns.”
“I suggest you sire a son with one of your lemans and claim him as your heir,” Gillian shot back.
Ross couldn’t remember when a woman had had him as bewildered as his MacKay wife. Gillian seemed
to hate all things MacKenna, especially the MacKenna
laird.
Did she dislike him because he had made her respond to his loving against her will? Ross wondered. Though she had burned in his arms, she seemed to resent his ability to arouse a response in her.
“You try my patience, Gillian,” Ross bit out. “Am I going to have to force you to perform your wifely duties?”
Gillian’s chin shot up. “I willna do so willingly. I hate you!”
Grasping her arms, Ross shoved her backward. She landed on the bed hard. Surprisingly, he made no move toward her. He towered above her, glaring, his body drawn as tight as a bowstring.
“Verra well, wife, have it your way. I find no pleasure in forcing women, especially women who claim to hate me. While you enjoy your cold bed, you can rest assured that mine will be neither cold nor empty.”
He stormed from the chamber before Gillian had time to register his words, decipher what they meant and how they would affect her. Did she truly not care with whom Ross slept? How did she feel about other women bearing his children? A frisson of something akin to jealousy swept through her. But how could that be? There was no reason for her to be jealous of the MacKenna. She hated him, didn’t she?
One thing was sure:
Gillian hated the way Ross made her feel, the way her body responded to his. Naught had hurt her pride more than surrendering her body to Ross. Was she the last MacKay left with the courage to stand up to the MacKenna?
In the following days, Gillian took on some of the duties of the mistress of the keep and found them not too onerous. She had begun to feel a wee bit more comfortable in the MacKenna stronghold, thanks largely to Hanna and Alice. Donald and some of the others did not warm to her, but it mattered not. She wasn’t trying to make friends. She was just waiting for the day the truce was broken and she could return home.
Gillian was pleased as well as surprised when she learned she was still allowed to ride each day. Her favorite mare, Silver, had arrived, and she tried to exercise the beastie every day. Gillian did notice, however, that she was never allowed to ride out alone. One of Ross’s kinsmen always trailed behind her. Obviously Ross was taking pains to stop another chance encounter with Angus.
Gillian saw Ross rarely, the exception being at the evening meal. She had no idea where he was sleeping or with whom, although she was quick to note that there were many attractive women at Ravenscraig, including Seana. No doubt they were eager to satisfy the laird’s sexual appetites.
Gillian had exchanged but a few words with Ross since he had stormed from their chamber, and was surprised one night when he turned to her at the table and asked, “How are you faring, wife? You look well.”
Startled, Gillian replied, “I
am
well, MacKenna.”
“Are you ready to welcome me back into our bed?”
Gillian’s gaze wandered past Ross to Seana, who was smirking, as if she knew something Gillian did not. “When pigs fly,” she said sweetly. “Have you tired of Seana? Mayhap I can suggest someone to take her place.”
Though Ross appeared ready to explode, he kept his voice low. “Have you had your woman’s time yet?”
Color slowly drained from Gillian’s face. Did he think she was carrying his baim? “Aye.”
It was a lie she felt no guilt in telling. She had no reason to believe her woman’s time wouldn’t arrive when it was due. She peered at him through lowered lashes. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her, for he looked disappointed.
Ross turned away to hide his frustration. He had been hoping his seed had found fertile ground in Gillian, and that motherhood would mellow her. But his firebrand was as feisty as ever, and his hopes for an heir dimmed. Mayhap he should consult with Gizela. She might have a potion that would make Gillian willing to let him make love to her. It wasn’t just heirs Ross wanted from Gillian. Nay, he desired her lush body, reveled in her response, no matter how unwillingly given; she aroused him as no other woman ever had. He had been walking around with a cock-stand since Gillian had refused him. For some unexplained reason, Ross had no desire to sate himself with another woman.
While Ravenscraig had no shortage of attractive women willing to bed with him, he wanted none of them. No one but his fire-haired warrior woman would satisfy him.
“What is wrong with you, lad?” Gordo asked when Ross continued to frown and shift food around on his plate. “You havena been yourself since your wedding. What has the MacKay wench done to you?”
Ross growled at his uncle. “The wench has done naught; that is the problem.”
“I suspected as much. ’Tis common knowledge you havena been sleeping in your own bed. Doona let the lass turn you into a milksop, Ross. If you want her, take her, but whatever you do, doona moon over her.”
Ross’s head jerked up. “Is that what everyone is thinking? That I’m mooning over my wife?”
“What else are we to think? We all ken you havena been the same since wedding the MacKay lass.” Gordo shook his head. “Bed her, Ross. Doona give her power over you. No one here will say you nay, and I am sure even Tearlach MacKay would agree.”
Ross stared down at his plate in moody silence. He had no idea what was keeping him from bedding his wife, unless it was his pride. If wasn’t as if he didn’t desire Gillian. His stupid notion of wanting her to come to him willingly was just that: stupid. He turned his head to stare intently at Gillian. She flushed beneath his scrutiny and pushed herself away from the table.
“I believe I shall retire. Good night,” Gillian said as she rose and hurried from the hall.
“Go after her, lad,” Gordo advised. “I’m for a breath of fresh air.” He rose, stretched, and strode off.
Ross brooded over Gordo’s unasked-for advice as he finished his second mug of ale and called for another. Damn Gillian for making him look like a besotted fool.
Mayhap, he thought, he
should
beat her. Her willfulness certainly demanded punishment.
Ross was so engrossed in his morose thoughts, he didn’t hear Seana sidle up beside him. “You look unhappy, Ross. Isna your marriage going well?” She leaned over, brushing her breasts suggestively against his shoulder. “Let me help you. I can make you smile again.”
Without waiting for an invitation, she plopped into his lap and wound her arms around his neck. “Do you nae remember how good we were together?”
“Are you trying to make Niall jealous?” Ross asked.
“Niall isna half the man you are. I doona belong to him. I am yours for the taking, Ross.”
“Take her, MacKenna; you deserve each other.” It was his wife’s furious voice.
Ross jumped to his feet, spilling Seana on the floor. “Gillian, I thought you had retired for the night.”
“I forgot my shawl,” Gillian said, retrieving the garment from the back of her chair, where she had left it. “I hope you both enjoy your evening.” She slanted Seana a contemptuous glance and walked away.
“Damn you!” Ross gritted from between clenched teeth as he started after her.
Seana reached up and grasped his leg, stopping him in his tracks. “The MacKay lass hates you. Doona make a fool of yourself over her, Ross.”
Ross shook his leg free and lifted Seana to her feet. “No one, man or woman, makes a fool of Ross MacKenna.” So saying, he took off after Gillian.
“Ross,” Seana cried, “doona go to her!”
He paid her no heed.
“ ’Tis no use, lass,” Gizela told Seana. “Accept it. You have no power over the laird. He belongs to the MacKay lass. ’Tis the way of it, and there is naught you can do to change the hand of fate. The flame hasna won yet, and there is heartache to come, but I have seen the laird’s future, and you have no place in it.”
Seana gave Gizela a vicious shove. “Where did you come from, old woman? Go away. You know naught.”
Spinning on her heel, she flounced off.
Ross was in a foul mood when he entered the solar and stormed into the bedchamber. Knowing that his kinsmen thought him a besotted fool made his blood boil. He had a wife, and she had damn well better begin acting like one. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Alice disrobing Gillian. Wearing naught but her shift, Gillian tried to hide herself behind her maid.
“Leave us!” Ross barked.
“Nay doona go!” Gillian cried with equal fervor.
“Alice,” Ross warned when Alice wavered.
Turning, Alice fled. Gillian reached for her chamber robe. Ross tore it from her fingers and tossed it aside.
“What do you want, MacKenna?”
“I should think that would be obvious. My kinsmen believe I am a besotted fool, that I am weak for letting you deny me my marital rights.”
She backed away from him. “I doona think you are besotted with me—far from it. I think you are wise to realize we doona suit.”
His face set in determined lines, Ross reached for her, bringing her against him. “I have been too indulgent with you. I was wrong to deny myself what I wanted.”