Page 17 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
B rodie is dull as a potato, always talkin’ of his sheep. What is she smilin’ like that for?
Oscar glared at the couple on the dance floor, whirling around in a lively reel that brought them far too close for his liking.
Maddie hadn’t ceased laughing since she and Brodie had begun the dance, though Oscar couldn’t tell if it was due to something Brodie was saying or the fact that they kept stumbling over their steps. The humor of shared embarrassment?
“I suppose she had to have one flaw,” Oscar muttered to himself.
He was as gifted a dancer as he was a lover, though he hadn’t had much opportunity to show his skills of late.
The last time he’d danced was at Hunter’s wedding, with some lass whose name and face he couldn’t remember.
Namely, because he’d been staring at Maddie the whole time, wondering how curtly she’d reject him if he asked her to dance.
“Did ye say somethin’, m’laird?” a passing councilman asked.
Oscar shot him a dark look. “Nothin’, Albany.”
“Yer bride is a fine thing, is she nae?” The councilman lingered, not taking the hint. “I doubt I’ve seen beauty like that in all me life, once ye look past the spectacles. Ye’d have thought she’d have taken them off for the day, nay?”
Oscar bristled. “And see nothin’? Aye, what a grand notion.”
“Ah... aye, of course,” the councilman mumbled, clearing his throat. “I didnae think about that. Anyway, did ye nae fancy dancin’ with her first? I was somewhat surprised to see her dancin’ with Brodie before ye.”
Of course I did, ye bastard. But I cannae dance with a lass I cannae touch! Oscar wanted to snarl in reply, his discipline fraying with every spin and twirl Maddie performed under another man’s control.
Each touch of Brodie’s hand to hers conjured a shiver of rage so intense he could’ve put his fist through the solid oak table.
Each time they moved apart then swept back in toward each other, he clenched his jaw so hard his teeth threatened to break.
Each time they looked at one another, he wanted to pluck out Brodie’s eyes.
Each time she laughed, he wanted to crush Brodie into dust.
She was mesmerizing, capturing the rapt attention of everyone in the room as if she’d cast an enchantment upon them.
She was beauty and brightness and loveliness incarnate, but not with him.
Indeed, he had never seen this version of her before, infuriated that he had been shunned from basking in her glow.
I’ve jested with her, but she’s never laughed like that...
Just then, Brodie’s fingers slipped between Maddie’s, a firm pull bringing her much closer than before. She lost her balance for a moment, caught by Brodie’s arm... and held there for longer than Oscar could ever allow.
To add insult to injury, perhaps forgetting where he was and whose wedding he was attending, Brodie leaned into Maddie’s ear. His lips moved, whispering something.
The last thread of Oscar’s tolerance snapped.
Downing what was left in his cup of spiced wine, he marched forward, his height and presence commanding the attention of the room. The musicians halted their merry tune, the dancers stopping mid-step, a few whispers of worry passing through the Great Hall.
“Enough,” he declared in a quiet, eerily calm voice.
The threat of that soft tone rippled throughout the room, the guests parting to allow Oscar through to the dance floor. Only a feeble leader needed to shout to have his intentions understood.
He approached his wife and Brodie with slow purpose, the councilman stepping away from Maddie without needing to be told. And judging by the fear on that insipid little man’s face, he wouldn’t sleep well tonight, worrying over his position on the council.
“Leave,” Oscar said softly.
Although he didn’t take his eyes off Maddie, not for a moment, the rest of the gathering understood his meaning perfectly. Their laird wanted a moment alone with his lady, and they were no longer welcome to partake.
In a steady, silent stream, the merrymakers scuttled out of the Great Hall, from the servants to the guests to the musicians.
Oscar waited, saying nothing to his bride, biding his time until the very last footsteps pattered out into the hallway, and the heavy double doors of the hall thundered back into place.
Closing the married couple off from the rest of the castle.
“It’s rather early to put an end to the festivities, don’t you think?” Maddie broke the silence first, her expression fearless, her tone carrying the faint edge of a taunt.
Oscar prowled forward, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. Still, Maddie showed no fear, matching his predatory steps with backward steps of her own, not letting him get too close.
Yet, ye had nay qualms about lettin’ Brodie closer.
Rage bubbled up afresh, traveling on a fierce current of unbridled desire, his need to possess her becoming something beyond his control. A beast he’d tried to tame that had just remembered its true nature.
A soft, maddening gasp escaped Maddie’s lips as her shoulderblades bumped against the wall, fluttering the clan tapestry that hung there.
She smiled sweetly at him. “Why have you ruined the celebrations, Laird Muir? I was just beginning to enjoy myself.”
“Dinnae test me,” he growled in reply. “Ye ken why. Ye kenned exactly what ye were doin’.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Dancing? Is that not what the musicians were here for? I didn’t realize you took umbrage with dancing, m’laird. You should have informed me sooner.”
“Be careful of the tone of yer voice, lass,” he warned, his body ablaze with need. “I’m nae amused.”
She relaxed against the wall, tilting her head as she stared up at him.
“Well, frankly, I don’t understand why you seem so cross.
I haven’t done anything wrong. I was getting to know your council, as the Lady of Muir ought to.
I was trying to enjoy myself.” She shrugged.
“And you were free to do what you wanted. I can’t be blamed for the fact that you didn’t take advantage of that, nor can I be blamed for the fact that you didn’t ask me to dance first.”
“Ye let him take ye by the hand,” Oscar rasped. “Ye let him whisper in yer ear. Tell me, what did he have to say?”
She pushed her spectacles back up to the bridge of her nose.
“He said I was beautiful, and that the color of my gown became me well. I was accepting the compliment.” She cleared her throat.
“As for him taking hold of my hands, I didn’t know he was going to do that, so I couldn’t prevent it.
Alas, I’m not a clairvoyant. I mean, I’m.
.. sorry that I didn’t react more quickly. ”
He squinted at her, wondering if he’d misheard. She wasn’t someone who apologized; instead, she talked in dizzying circles until a person forgot what it was they were annoyed about.
“I dinnae ken what ye’re up to, lass,” he said thickly, “but ye’d do well nae to antagonize me. I dinnae think ye ken how close ye came to makin’ me break both of Brodie’s arms at the wrists for touchin’ ye like that. Laughin’ with him like that.”
A flash of fire glinted in her hazel eyes, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides. He prepared for her usual style of retort, ready to hear the reasons that he was being unfair or a brute.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, teeth gritted, she replied simply, “Then you should have asked me first.”
“And ye’d have accepted?” He snorted. “Ye, who walked away from me at the altar?”
“I offered my hand and would have offered my cheek,” she said, her tone disarmingly mild. “You wouldn’t bend the rules of your wager for appearances. And if I couldn’t walk at your side, holding your arm at least, then I wanted to walk alone.”
He frowned, his brain fizzing with confusion. “All ye had to do was ask.”
“No, all I had to do was beg,” she replied. “And I wouldn’t do that in a place of God.”
Oscar moved closer, until there was no more than an inch between them. He braced his hand against the wall above her, grasping a fistful of the tapestry.
“Did ye want him to touch ye?” he whispered close to her ear, exactly where Brodie had whispered. “Did ye want to feel his hands on ye?”
Her body trembled, the vibration of it flowing into him, rousing the electricity that already crackled through his entire being.
“You shouldn’t blame me for something I couldn’t control,” she whispered back.
“You shouldn’t punish me for wanting to dance on my wedding day, when you have been avoiding me.
And no, I didn’t want to be touched—not by him . ”
Oscar’s teeth grazed his lower lip, biting down harder in the hopes that the pain would temper his blazing desire. “But ye want to be touched?”
She said nothing, her breath ragged, her arms rigid at her sides as though she didn’t trust her hands to be free. He leaned in, his body almost flush against hers, feeling in every vibration the things she wasn’t saying.
“It’s up to ye,” he murmured, his breath tracing the slender curve of her neck, desperate to kiss that smooth skin.
I willnae be the one to break.
So close that a single word would’ve skimmed his lips across that soft skin, he moved up the curve of her neck and along her jaw, teasing her with the promise of a kiss as he almost brought his cheek to her cheek.
All the while, her breath grew shallower, sawing in and out until the heave of her bosom threatened to break the promise first.
He stopped at her mouth, whispering, “Beg.”
A soft moan nearly unraveled him, her eyes closing and her neck arching as if he’d already conceded defeat.
“Beg,” he growled, no longer a request.
Hesitantly, her fists unfurled, her fingertips lightly touching the sides of his hips. As if she was deciding whether to push him away or pull him closer.
A faint murmur reached his ears, undecipherable.
“What did ye say?” he breathed, his heart pounding.
“Please,” she murmured. “I said... please.”
It was all the entreaty that he needed, as he pressed her back against the wall and kissed her with everything he possessed: a hot, fervent, frenzied crush of his lips against hers, catching her mouth over and over in a searing ebb and flow that would surely, blissfully, destroy him.
Both of them.