Maggie Mine Page 12

  His face pinched in annoyance. “I’m not concerned about the people below. Or giving them any kind of proof. All that concerns me is you, Maggie mine.”

  His words warmed her heart, still bruised about being forced to wed him. The “bruise” was fast fading at his tender care for her. She knew he was ready to proceed farther with this. The strain of holding back was etched on his handsome face, in the tenseness of his shoulders.

  “And I’m worried about ye.” She arched upward, again trying to bring him more inside her. “Ye doona’ take hints verra well, husband.”

  He took hold of her legs, pushed them back until her knees touched her chest. Then he spread them apart and released her. As she kept her legs raised, he bent over and suckled a breast as he’d done earlier, before he’d put his mouth to her private place.

  She moaned at the pleasure of it. Waited, held her breath.

  In the next instant, he pushed his shaft inside her, stopping when she gasped at the fullness suddenly filling her. He raised his head, looked worried and held himself rigidly still. “This will hurt, but only this first time.”

  Hurt? Aye, she remembered Abigail telling her about that when Maggie had sought her out last night with a few questions about the bedding. Already, though, her body was adjusting to the rod impaling her. She found herself squeezing him with inner muscles she hadn’t known she had. The sensation was really quite nice. Particularly when he groaned and moved the tiniest bit.

  “Aye,” she stated firmly. “Be done with it.” Again she held her breath in anticipation.

  He bent further and kissed her, while driving his rod fully into her body.

  Maggie gasped, but it was absorbed by his mouth. He didn’t move, didn’t stop kissing her either. Then suddenly the pain was only a fleeting memory. Pleasure such as she’d never experienced swirled through her and he eased back to brace himself on his hands at her sides.

  “All right now?” Even as he asked the question, he moved back and forth, never quite leaving her body.

  She smiled up at him, quivering. “Oh, aye. Verra all right.”

  His face pinched in strain and he gritted out, “I’m sorry, Maggie.” He drove faster, deeper. “I’ve wanted you for too long. I can’t… can’t….”

  Whatever he was complaining about mattered not to her at the moment. Her body ached, needed, had to have something only he could give her. She drove her hands into his hair and tugged him closer. “More! I must have more!”

  He gave a raw chuckle and as sweat covered his big body, he pounded into her. Harder, deeper yet. He shook under the strain. “God! Maggie!” The words came out more growl than anything else.

  Her hands left his hair and went to his back. She clawed at him, frantic. “Ohhh…please!”

  And then, as earlier, she felt an explosion of juices from within her. She stiffened, heart racing, even as he continued to drive over and over into her exhausted body.

  At last, his face contorted in what looked like agony. He drove deep a final time and arched backward roaring out in release. Warm juices pumped inside her. His body shook until the last drop poured from him.

  “Are ye all right?” she asked worriedly as he remained over her, his arms appearing to tremble.

  Warmth lit his eyes as he looked down at her wearily. “Aye. And you, my Maggie, are you all right?”

  She smiled, squeezing her inner muscles around his semi-hard shaft. “So that was a claiming?” she teased, enjoying the many sensations tumbling through her.

  “Aye.” He eased from her body and collapsed beside her on the rumpled bed. “Aye, now you are most definitely mine.” Still breathing hard, he closed his eyes.

  She turned her head and studied the man who had now completely changed her life forever. As much as she’d enjoyed what they’d just done, she still worried. Part of her wanted to forget how they’d come to be together like this, forget what had brought him to her. Forget that he’d left her brother behind in Tunis. But she couldn’t and a tear slid from one eye. She thought she heard him snore and mumbled to herself sadly, “If only ye hadn’t abandoned Brodie.”

  Chapter Seven

  In the limited light coming in through the small windows, Maggie watched her husband ease from the bed and sighed with pleasure. It was truly a wonderful thing to start a day seeing him walk delightfully naked around the chamber as he looked for his clothes. Even better was being woken by his hands molding over her bare breasts and snuggling her closer to him. Best of all was having him fully awaken her by showing her the benefits of being married to such a passionate lover.

  As he strode to his trunk and retrieved his braies, she smiled at Nicholas’ fine ass. “Are ye verra sure ‘tis time to go down and break yer fast?” she asked in a silky purr.

  He faced her and pulled on the braies. A crooked grin of male pride slid over his face. “You’ve become a laze-about these last few days. Made me into something of one as well.” He reached for a tunic. “’Tis time I returned my focus to my duties as lord of Middleham.”

  She pinched her mouth in a pout. “’Tisna like we’ve spent every moment in bed, my lord husband. Ye’ve practiced daily with yer men. I’ve dealt with some of the keep’s needs, too.”

  “Not every moment, but a goodly amount, wife. I’m not complaining about that.” He pulled the tunic over his finely-toned chest and spoiled the last of the view she’d been admiring.

  “Ye couldna complain. Ye got yer way with me over and over again.” Her blood heated just at the thought of some of things they’d done. Her woman’s place longed for him once again. It worried her that she felt such strong needs for him. He’d never mentioned the word love in all the time they’d spent together, but then neither had she. Did she love him? ‘Twas far too soon to tell. But she did love his body and how well he knew how to use it.

  Speaking of that… She sat up and let the bed linen slide down to her waist. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her nipples stood out hard and yearning for his mouth. Each of the last three mornings she’d been able to entice him back to bed with a heated look.

  She watched his powerful chest rise and fall in a deeply drawn-in breath as he looked in her direction. His eyes darkened. But he shook his head and didn’t walk back to the bed. She could see in his determined expression that he wouldn’t give in to his desire this morning.

  “Nay, Maggie. You cannot lure me away from my duties this morn.” He pulled on his low leather boots. “’Tis also time you returned fully to your duties as chatelaine. The staff will be expecting as much.”

  She slumped against the headboard of the big bed. She knew he spoke the truth. Yet she was reluctant to leave her new role of blushing and much-loved bride to full-fledged chatelaine. Where running the keep had been a temporary duty before, now it was her complete duty. It wasn’t an unfamiliar role since she’d run Urquhart’s keep for years. Still, now she handled the responsibilities as the wife of Middleham’s new lord. The people were still adjusting to him and now they would need to adjust to her ways even more.

  Urquhart. Just the thought of her beloved home made her heart ache and filled her with much sadness.

  “I’ve been thinking, husband,” Maggie said, fiddling with her hold on the linen. She’d been worrying over this ever since her arrival here. “Thinking mayhap we could travel back to Urquhart. Make sure Douglas is doing all right with his new duties. See if….” She swallowed the lump in her throat at the slim hope she continued to have that Brodie would return home.

  Nicholas shook his head and held himself stiffly. “Nay. I’ve too much to do here. Douglas can handle matters there. He seemed a responsible man.”

  She knew he understood she still believed he’d abandoned her brother. They hadn’t spoken of it in a long time, but the matter was something that would keep them from fully bonding. And she suspected he carried some guilt in the matter as well. She decided to try another tactic.

  “As my husband, Urquhart belongs to ye now as much as Middleham and S
pennithorne. Surely ye want to—”

  “I will not persuaded by your manipulations, wife. When I say nay, I mean it.” The firm set to his unshaven jaw warned her to drop the subject.

  He strode toward the wooden door to the bedchamber and looked back a final time. “’Tis past time you went down to break your fast and begin your day’s duties.”

  It bothered her that he was leaving her in anger. She hadn’t meant to cause a problem. She just missed her home…her old home. She missed the people there, especially her clan. A tear slid from the corner of one eye before she could blink it away.

  The tension eased from his shoulders. His expression softened as he said, “Mayhap in a month or so I will think about it. I am truly sorry for your unhappiness here.” Then he pulled open the door and hurried out before she could stop him.

  Maggie dashed at the tears now streaming down her face. “I didna say I was unhappy here,” she whispered into the room. She truly wasn’t, but she miss her family’s home.

  * * *

  Gerald thrust his wooden sword at Nicholas as they practiced in the bailey. Nicholas barely dodged the thrust and frowned in annoyance.

  “Your mind is on your pretty young bride instead of on defending yourself.” Gerald grinned in amusement. “Understandable.”

  Nicholas had endured the many amused looks sent his way since he had joined his men in training a couple of hours ago. It was true his thoughts remained half-focused on Maggie. He wasn’t sure what to do about her, about them. He’d known that soon he would need to take a wife, but she’d been forced upon him. As he’d been forced upon her. They needed to get beyond how they had come to be a couple. He felt certain they could be happy together eventually, once they learned more about one another and accepted each other’s ways. He was already proud of the manner in which she handled his people and with her ease of taking care of the keep. And he was more than happy with her in bed. God’s teeth, if she pleased him anymore in that way, he’d never survive.

  “She’s talking of wanting to go visit Urquhart,” Nicholas admitted, again feeling his frustration over the matter.

  “Fia has told me how the two of them discuss it now and then. They’re homesick, I fear.”

  “With Maggie, it’s more than that. She misses her clan, the Scottish way of life.” He understood that, but her obsession with Brodie returning was keeping her from letting go of her past. It wasn’t healthy for either her or their marriage. He frowned. “She refuses to accept that Brodie is most likely dead, too.”

  Gerald nodded. “Fia has told me so as well. She worries about your lady.” He stepped closer and said grimly, “She also admitted recently that the two of them have talked about sneaking away from here to make their way back to Urquhart. Of course, I warmed her bottom for even thinking of such nonsense.”

  Spanking Maggie for such a foolish idea appealed to Nicholas, too. But with Maggie’s stubbornness, he didn’t think even a well-warmed bottom would dissuade her from sneaking away if she set her mind on it. He’d married a most stubborn woman. He would have to watch her even more carefully.

  “How goes your search for a husband for Lady Stanhope?” Gerald asked, interrupting Nicholas’ troubled thoughts.

  His frown deepened at yet another problem he faced. Since their marriage, he hadn’t witnessed as much antagonism between the two women as before. Yet gut instinct warned him that trouble was brewing on that front. “No positive replies have been received as yet.”

  He thought about that for a second. He hadn’t actually been the one to receive the last couple of messages, which he’d been told had arrived two days ago when he’d been otherwise occupied with Maggie. Mary had accepted the messages from his returned soldiers. She’d told him of the news after the fact. Although, in truth, she hadn’t appeared sad when she’d spoken with him. Nay, there had been something unreadable in her expression at the time.

  Uneasy with that notion, he handed Gerald his practice sword. “I must go have a word with Lady Stanhope. Something bothers me.” He walked with a sense of discomfort back toward the keep.

  Nicholas walked through the large double doors into the dimly lit great hall. He stood for a second and let his eyes adjust. Half a dozen soldiers sat at a table drinking mead and nibbling on bread. Their voices were low rumbles until one apparently said something amusing and they all burst into laughter. And then his attention was drawn to women’s voices across the large space. Mary stood stiffly next to the fireplace talking heatedly with a young maid, who appeared to cower in misery. Nicholas couldn’t hear what was said, but it bothered him to see the confrontation. Where was Maggie? Why wasn’t she dealing with whatever was going on?

  “If you can’t do a better job, I will have a word with Lord Middleham about dismissing you,” Mary snapped.

  As Nicholas approached, the maid blinked back tears and her chin wobbled. “I’m trying me very best, your ladyship. But with the cut on me hand….” She held up a blood-stained, rag-wrapped hand.

  “Your own carelessness in the kitchen caused that.”

  “But—”

  “Find Lady Middleham and have her properly tend to your hand,” Nicholas said brusquely, making both women gape at him in surprise.

  The maid immediately gave him a grateful look and scurried toward the kitchens.

  Mary raised her chin, although her cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t attempting to overstep my bounds, My Lord. I was—”

  “You were being overly cruel.” He didn’t want to discuss the matter now, not when he wanted to throttle the woman for being so heartless. “I came inside to have you show me the messages received the other day. The ones you told me about. I would read them myself.”

  Her body went rigid and she paled a bit. “You doubt my word?”

  “I didn’t say as much. Only that I wish to read them myself.” He had a bad feeling in his gut about this.

  She avoided looking directly at him, glancing toward the fireplace. “I’m afraid I was so distressed by those refusals that I tossed the parchments into the fire after reading them. I’m sorry, My Lord.”

  It had not been her right to do anything with missives sent to him. He tried to hold in his anger. “Are you?” He pulled in a calming breath. “I’m thinking you are playing games, Lady Stanhope. Just as you tried to do before Maggie and I were wed.”

  Her eyes met his for an instant before she shifted her gaze away once more. But he was almost certain he’d seen hostility flashing at him. Then, as she’d often done, she softened her expression to face him again. “I admit I had hoped you would choose me for your wife. And I was gravely disappointed by King Edward ordering the two of you to wed.” She gave a quiet sigh. “I have accepted the situation now.”

  For some reason, Nicholas didn’t believe her. “I will prepare new inquiries to be sent out as soon as possible. This time, when the messages are returned, only I will receive them. The messenger will be instructed as such.”

  Her lips pressed tightly together and she nodded acknowledgment.

  Footsteps rushing in their direction interrupted them. “How dare ye speak so harshly to my staff?” Maggie snarled as she strode briskly closer, coming from the kitchens. “Ye are to leave them alone from now on!”

  Nicholas turned at the sound of his wife’s furious voice. She was in full temper, green eyes sparking with the fire of outrage, chest heaving in anger, and moving with the speed of a very determined woman. When she saw him, she slowed her steps but none of her anger left her expression. She looked past him and to the woman who had sorely tested her. He admired her grit, especially her loyalty to his people.

  “If you’re talking about that maid—” Mary began, stopping at the glower from her opposition.

  Maggie continued striding toward them, unconcerned that the dozen or so people in the great hall were now avidly watching and listening. She wore her Scottish dress today of chemise, plaid skirt, and black bodice laced tightly to her small waist. He’d already noticed she tended
to wear this whenever she felt unhappy—perhaps homesick, as Gerald had mentioned—or upset with him. He had a feeling she felt all of those things today.

  “’Twas an accident, Annie getting cut. The cook said as much.” She marched closer and stood with hands on hips. “The cook also said ye walked in as Annie was attempting to tend to the wound. That ye shoved a dirty rag at the lass, told her to wrap her hand, quit fussing over nothing, and to come help ye cleaning up in the hall.”

  Nicholas stiffened at the harshness of the action.

  “It wasn’t a bad cut. The tables needed cleaning off and since she wasn’t doing anything else—”

  “Yer a thoughtless, pitiless woman.” Maggie thrust a rag she carried at Mary. “If yer so all-fired determined to see the tables cleaned right this moment, then ye do it!”

  Mary’s eyes widened and she refused to take the rag. “I’m not a servant to be ordered around.”

  Nicholas grabbed the rag and forced it into Mary’s hand. “My own lady wife has no problem cleaning up at times. You can certainly help out.”

  Before Mary could protest, he turned his back on her and faced Maggie. “The maid? I sent her to you for tending to her cut.”

  “Abigail is seeing to it, was eager to see to it,” she said defensively. Then she nodded toward Mary. “Ye left yer training to come speak with Lady Stanhope? Not me?”

  He heard the hurt in her tone. “Are you jealous, wife?” He glanced toward the others in the room and they quickly looked away. Then he sensed Mary listening intently.

  Disgusted and wanting privacy, he took Maggie’s hand and pulled her with him to the nearest corner. She hadn’t answered his question, but he didn’t want her to worry any longer. “I have no interest at all in Lady Stanhope. I never have.”

  Relief spread over Maggie’s sweet face. “She will make any man a very puir wife.”

  “Sadly true, I’m afraid.” He touched the side of Maggie’s cheek and felt the now familiar rush of desire spread through him. She leaned into his touch. “You, on the other hand, are a most pleasing wife. Particularly in bed.”