Page 13 of A Sinful Night with a Scot (Bound by a Highland Curse: The Morgan’s Clan Stories #8)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T hey were already halfway through dinner, and still, Keane could not keep his eyes off his wife. He hadn’t been able to do so since he had walked into her bedchamber earlier.

The last three days, he, his men, and Elsie had trudged across country in all weathers, not caring a wit about their appearance. Elsie had had no choice. It wasn’t like she had been given time to pack. She had nothing other than the dress he had snatched her in.

After a bath and fresh clothes, she had, indeed, looked a lot better when they had journeyed to the cave, but nothing could have prepared him for what he walked into later that evening. With a desire to tear that necklace off her, and sink his teeth into her long slender throat, followed swiftly by the urge to bury his face in the bosoms that burst from the top of her corset, his groin had ached, and his manhood had hardened instantly.

It was only as they were approaching the great hall, sensing Elsie’s terror, that he had pulled away from the fantasy of what he wanted to do to her, and remembered who he was. He was her husband, her supposed protector, the man who would kill anyone who tried to harm her. She was his now, whether she liked it or not.

Feeling her tremors and hearing her fearful thoughts, he had pulled her in closer. She had no need to be afraid. He would never let anyone harm her. Not ever. But at the hearth, panic had rushed through him, her thought piercing his mind like a knife when Michael was about to hand her the stone.

I should smash this stone intae the hearth after what I have been put through.

Watching her with bated breath as she had taken it from the councilman, time had seemed to move unnaturally slowly. Waiting. Watching. Worrying. It wasn’t just the effort he had put into carefully carving her name. It was the fact that he had carved her name at all.

Alisdair was not surprised earlier when he had confessed how he was beginning to feel about her, but afterward, when he had admitted he was afraid, his closest companion had leaned forward and looked in his eyes and had had the nerve to suggest that Keane might feel something akin to love.

He did not, of course. And so, he had denied it again. However, afterward, as he readied himself for the feast, he wondered if it could be true. Surely not.

One cannae fall in love with another over a period o’ three days.

Ye were watching her fer weeks.

I am attracted tae her, certainly. She arouses me, as she might any other man, with her stunning beauty. But love? Nay.

She had certainly aroused him the second he had walked into her bedchamber, but as he stood at the hearth, waiting to see what she would do, the stone held in her hands, Keane had felt something far deeper. Something he couldn’t explain, and, at the time, he had been too busy panicking to examine it.

Alisdair had said it was kind of him to carve Elsie’s name on the stone, but it had been more for him than kindness, and only in that heart stopping moment, did he realize how much more. And when relief had flooded through him when she placed the stone on the hearth, the bubbling fire in his stomach he had been suppressing for three days, had finally overtook him and he had kissed her. A breathtaking, tender kiss that sent heat rushing through his veins.

Since then, his eyes had hardly left from gazing at her, turning away only to speak to Alisdair or Michael as they conversed. Elsie flitted soft glances his way, the blush dancing on her cheeks, gripping him on each occasion she noted that he had not yet turned his eyes away.

At one point, she had leaned toward him, the corner of her mouth dancing as her eyes sparkled.

“Ye ken, there are many other people in this room.”

Keane moved his mouth close to her ear, his lips brushing her skin when his voice rumbled from his throat. “Aye, but I dinnae want any one o’ them the way I want ye.”

He watched her skin pebble, and the pulse in her slender throat quicken. Her swift intake of breath was like music to his ears as he pulled away from her with a satisfied smirk.

Later, he led her from the high table, toward the middle of the room, where others were already gleefully dancing and enjoying the celebrations. Slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close, his eyes fixed on hers, his lips curled as he said, “I dinnae imagine ye can move too much in such a dress.”

Elsie jutted out her chin, taking his words as a challenge. “Try me,” she replied.

Her response delighted Keane, and he beamed down at her. “Very well.” And hearing her delighted gasp as he swiftly spun her around the floor, his heart pounded as light laughter trickled from her lips.

Ye cannae fall in love with this lass.

But while his mind battled for his sanity, his heart seemed to have other ideas, for it thumped in his chest as he twirled her around the room, her skin glowing and her eyes soft and sparkling with unspoken laughter. At one point, eliciting a squeal of delight from her throat, he lifted her completely off her feet, like he was lifting air itself.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, whatever was happening between them felt magical, just like it had earlier in the cave at the waterfall. He had denied that feeling at the time, pushing it down, not wanting to allow it to overcome him. Now, however, he felt powerless to stop it.

The music slowed as the dance came to an end, and tenderly, he lowered her again until her feet were once more on the stone floor beneath them. When they finally came to a stop, he grinned down at her. “Told ye, ye wouldnae be able tae move in that dress.”

Breathlessly, she gazed up at him with her lips parted. Her tongue slipped out and swiped across the bottom lip, and Keane shuddered, his eyes pinned there, his groin aching at such a simple gesture.

Her eyes widened in surprise at his reaction. “What is it?”

His brows hitched on his forehead as he regarded her, and then, he realized.

She’s so innocent, she daesnae even ken what she’s doing.

Somehow, that aroused him even more, and slowly shaking his head, but not moving his attention from her lips, he breathed. “Naething.”

They were on the way back to the table when Kenna, his mistress, sauntered in their direction. She was a pretty woman, her oval face defined by a jutting jaw line and high cheekbones, with full lips that had explored his body many times. The blonde braid hung sexily over one shoulder, draping over her full and pert breasts, the soft skin of which glistened and bounced as she moved.

Keane immediately glanced back to Elsie to see if she had noticed, but it was too late. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth had fallen open, clearly shocked at Kenna’s brazen approach.

“Me laird,” Kenna purred, her eyes glancing over Keane’s shoulder at Elsie, who remained a step behind him. “Perhaps ye will need a late supper tonight.”

“At least ye can wait fer his wife tae leave the room before making proposals, lass,” Elsie said calmly, stepping forward and standing at Keane’s side, but he could see her face reddening with anger.

Swiftly, Keane jerked his head at Kenna, who nodded, smiled, and slipped away as sultrily as she had approached. He then turned to Elsie, while trying to define what he felt. He was riled that she had spoken for him. No one did that. Not ever. They were not that brave or that stupid. But while his jaw pulsed, his teeth clenching and unclenching, her evident jealousy also aroused him, and he couldn’t help but feel satisfied at that.

“Ye are jealous,” he snarled.

“Indeed, I am nae,” she turned toward him. “I am appalled. How can ye let this woman approach ye in front o’ me on this night, especially?” she ranted. “How dare she be so disrespectful, and how dare ye allow it? It is humiliating.”

She had a point, but it was lost as his anger grew by her tone, and the way in which she had railed him. No one else would dare even consider it. She was playing a dangerous game, whether she knew it or not. Taking a firm grip on her arm, he pulled her in close while hearing the gasp flying from her mouth.

With his lips at her ear, he growled, “Dae ye remember what ye told me on the night I decided nae tae kill ye? The night I told ye I’d spare yer life, but marry ye instead?”

Elsie’s breaths were rapid, a light panting escaping from her lips, making those soft breasts rise and fall at a great pace.

“Ye told me ye had one condition fer our marriage,” he hissed. “Dae ye remember?”

Elsie nodded quickly, a high-pitched sound caught in her throat.

“Good. Then, if I cannae bed ye, I need tae get me relief somewhere else. I am a man with needs, and I will fulfill them. With or without ye.”

When he released his grip, Elsie took a quick step back, her brow furrowed, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. Evidently, there were words she wanted to say, but she was struggling to find them. Finally, she looked at him and, with great effort, lifted her chin.

“Fine. I understand yer needs,” she said, her voice unsteady. “But if ye must…, at least have the decency nae tae speak tae yer mistresses in front o’ me.”

She then turned and made her way back to the table, leaving him standing there in the wake of her words. While he ought to have been satisfied, he felt something very different. Something that, in fact, jolted his very being. Instead of feeling victorious that he had lauded it over her, her words had stabbed him like a knife to the heart.

He had played his hand, determined, in his own way, to let her know that if she wanted him, she only needed to say. The intention was to tease her, to feed off her jealousy, and show her what he was certain she wanted. But Elsie had called his bluff. Instead of eliciting arousal and drawing her closer to him, he had angered her and pushed her even further away.

Michael now engaged her in conversation at the high table, and with her perfect smile pinned back in place, one might imagine their conversation had never occurred. Innocent she might be, but Elsie was also intuitively clever and resourceful, with the ability to maintain her dignity.

Their time in the cave reignited his thoughts, and Keane recalled her expression when speaking about her father. That same humiliation had danced in her eyes only moments before.

Ye are a fool, Keane. What about the sacred vow? What the hell are ye doing?

I’m protecting mesel’.

Ye made an oath. An oath in a sacred place tae treat her better. Is this ye keeping yer word?

As rational as his mind was, it was also logical, and seemed to have no reply for his heart. Because there was no reply that justified his actions. He had to do better, as difficult as that might be. He had been a good man once.

But can I be that man again?

Apparently, neither his mind nor his heart had the answer to that question.

Eventually, he joined Elsie and Michael at the table. Once he had settled beside her, he gazed down at her hand, sitting lightly on her lap. Reaching over, he took hold of it, wrapping his large fingers around hers.

Elsie spun her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face. She didn’t speak, but then, she didn’t need to.

What is he doing? I should pull away.

Nae. Let him hold ye. Look at his eyes. Surely, he is trying tae ask fer forgiveness. He’s just too proud tae put it intae words.

But does he deserve me forgiveness?

Her mind went quiet for a few seconds, clearly considering that question.

Perhaps nae, but how will ye tolerate being here if ye dinnae give it? Maybe if he hadnae have been right, if yer werenae jealous, forgiving him would be easier. But he was right, wasnae he? It wasnae just that woman’s brazen approach. It was the fact that ye dinnae want tae share him with another.

A slow smile crept to Keane’s lips as he listened to her thoughts. All the things she dared not say out loud. Nevertheless, he had already deduced that she was attracted to him. He didn’t need to read her mind to tell him that.

It had been evident in the soft moments they had shared, the fleeting, yet lingering glances, her breathlessness, the throbbing pulse in that beautiful slender throat. All the signs, in her innocence, that she wasn’t even aware she was giving him. It was that knowledge that had driven him to tease her earlier, but not only had he failed, he had clearly taken it a step too far.

Elsie eventually gave him something akin to a smile but not quite, and then turned back to Michael, returning to the conversation he had interrupted. He listened as Michael spoke to her about the history of the clan, and how far the lands spread. The councilman then encouraged her to talk about herself.

“Dae ye have braithers or sisters, me lady?” Michael said.

Elsie shook her head. “I am an only child.” That same sadness in the cave tinged her voice again. “Much tae me faither’s chagrin.”

“I dinnae understand,” Michael said, sounding confused.

But Alisdair arriving at Keane’s side distracted him from Elsie’s reply. It didn’t matter, though. He already knew what she was going to say.

“Well, me friend,” Alisdair grinned, “a fine turnout fer yer special night.”

“Indeed,” Keane said. “As expected.”

“Naething less fer our esteemed laird,” Alisdair declared dramatically with a smirk.

Keane cocked an eyebrow and lifted the corner of his mouth. “This night was fer Elsie, ye idiot.”

“Och, aye. Yer beloved new wife. And what an impression she has made.” Alisdair looked out into the room at all those gathered, joyfully continuing the celebrations. “I couldnae help but notice how proud ye yersel’ looked at yer grand entrance. The two o’ ye were a picture o’ the perfect noble couple.”

Keane gave his companion a sideways glance, his eyes narrowed, regarding him skeptically. “Ye’re playing a dangerous game, me friend.”

Alisdair smirked as he looked him directly in the eyes. “Nay, Keane. I think that is ye.” He lowered his voice. “When I feel fer a woman, I make certain she kens it. That way, I dinnae lose her, or worse, play with her heart.”

Keane scowled at Alisdair. “I’m nae playing.”

“Aye, but daes she ken that?” Alisdair said, jerking his head past Keane’s shoulder.

Quite some time later when Keane noticed Elsie stifling a yawn.

“Ye are exhausted,” he said. “It is time that ye retire.”

Elsie didn’t argue, and nodding, she pushed her chair from the table. “I am. If ye dinnae mind, I will.”

Keane swiftly stood and pulled her chair further back. “I’ll join ye.”

Panic flashed across her face at his words, and Keane couldn’t hide his smile. Bending to her ear once more, he murmured. “Dinnae worry. Ye have ye own chamber. Remember?”

An expression he struggled to read flashed across her face, part relief, part something else. And then, she managed a weak smile. Bidding goodnight to Michael and Alisdair, he led her through the great hall, those they passed, bowing and murmuring good night greetings.

The corridor was far quieter. Even more silent, given that neither of them said a word all the way to their bedchamber doors. When Elsie came to a stop, her hand resting on the door handle, Keane stood beside her.

“Goodnight, Elsie,” he said, bending down and lightly brushing her cheek with his lips.

“Goodnight,” she breathed.

A second later, she had stepped inside her room and closed the door. For a long moment, Keane stood and stared at it. He had no idea why. It wasn’t as though he expected her to fling it open and beg him to join her. She would eventually, he would make certain of that, but not tonight.

Once inside his own room, he stripped quickly and climbed into bed, the soft mattress bending to support his muscular frame. He was utterly exhausted, and no sooner had he closed his eyes, than sleep swept over him.

The bars of the cage were unyielding, no matter how many times Keane pulled them back and forth, his screams echoing around the filthy dungeon.

“Let him go! Let him go, ye bastard!”

Kneeling outside the cell, bleeding, bruised and battered, his father looked weary, worn down, and hanging on to life by a thread. The sight before him terrified Keane, for his father had never looked so beaten, and he feared he would not suffer another session of agony and survive.

After their capture, Laird Gunn had brought him and his father to some stronghold. Keane had no idea where they were, for he had been knocked unconscious in the ambush. When he woke, he found himself locked in the very same cell he now occupied. In fact, he had not yet left it. He wished he could say the same for his father.

Laird Gunn had dragged Hamilton out of his cell every day, and had tortured him for hours, delighted that Keane had been able to hear his piercing screams of agony. It had now been four days, and by his father’s dreadful appearance, it was evident he would not be able to take much more of Gunn’s evilness.

Keane had screamed for the laird to take him in his father’s place, but Gunn had only laughed in his face. “I dinnae need tae tak’ ye,” he scowled. “Ye’re suffering too, fer I ken ye can hear yer faither’s screams.”

There was no reason for the torture. The laird was not making any attempt to elicit information from Hamilton, for his father had told him so when Keane had asked on the first day. But Laird Gunn was a sick and twisted man, who clearly took great pleasure out of making his father suffer. Keane had watched his eyes light up on the many occasions he had struck him. The sound of Hamilton’s cries electrifying the laird with delight.

That day, Laird Gunn dragged Hamilton from his cell, but instead of taking him away, as he had done for so many days before, he struck him in the face with the hilt of his dirk, and threw him on the ground, right in front of Keane.

“While I have enjoyed me time with ye,” the laird declared, “I am afraid I have other business tae attend tae, and thus, our time together has come tae an end.”

Blood dripped from the gash on Hamilton’s face, while Keane looked at his father in despair. They had to get out of there. But then, the very familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed, the metallic slicing sound vibrating across the air, caught Keane’s attention, and his eyes flew up to look at Laird Gunn, who now held the sword firmly in his hand.

“Nay! Nay!” Keane screamed.