Page 30 of Highlander’s Captive Bride (Troubles of Highland Lasses #4)
A fter Conor’s departure to his chamber, Nylah was left alone at the table with his men, and her thoughts swirled. What could her husband have meant by “seeing ye soon” instead of saying a simple good evening? Possibilities swam through her mind as she ensured that each of Conor’s soldiers had a warm meal filling their bellies and a comfortable place to sleep in.
That’s when a memory of long ago crawled up from the depths of her mind and presented itself like a warning. The night of their wedding, neither Conor nor Nylah had found themselves in the bedchamber, and as such, they had not consummated their marriage. After these long years, could that be what her husband wanted of her this evening?
Nervous energy swirled through her as she stood from the table and excused herself to rest. Like most in her situation, Nylah had been a virgin on her wedding day, which remained true.
Her heart had raced within her chest the entire time she had sat so close to Conor, and it beat all the harder as she realized that she might be giving herself over to the Laird this very night. While much of the prospect warmed her with desire, facing the fact that she might have to please Conor terrified her. After all, Nylah had no idea what she was doing in that department.
As she reached the stairs that led up to her room, she saw Caitlin descending and quickly stole her attention.
“Caitlin.” Nylah’s whisper contained the urgency of a shout. “Please, I need yer assistance.”
“Of course, Me Lady. How can I help ye?”
* * *
After readying herself for Conor with the help of her dear maid, Caitlin, nerves continued to creep up Nylah’s spine as she waited for the Laird to appear in her rooms. Although Caitlin had done much to ease Nylah’s tension, her efforts to assuage her mistress’s fears did little to make Nylah relax.
Minutes ticked by as Nylah lay in her bed waiting, but after what would have been enough time for two baths, her worry increased, and she feared that something had gone wrong.
“Where is he? Och, very well then.”
Nylah gathered up her robe, sufficiently covering herself to enter the hall. Conor’s room lay at the end of the long passageway they shared, and as Nylah quickly shuffled across the floor, frustration welled within her. At his door, she knocked, hoping to find him merely distracted or nervous. At this point, she would even accept asleep.
However, it wasn’t the Laird who opened the door, but Fergus.
“Me Lady.” He bowed low.
“Hello, Fergus. Where is our Laird? I thought he would be here after his long journey.”
“Apologies, Me Lady. His Lairdship isnae here. He excused himself after dressing following his bath.”
“Thank ye, Fergus.”
Nylah turned for the door and quickly returned the way she’d come. Disappointment and anger blended together in a dangerous mixture as she approached her room alone.
As her hand reached the knob, the sound of raucous laughter echoed up the stairs. Nylah hurried to the sound, listening intently for more of the same. Sure enough, shouts and cheers from the dining hall filtered up toward her. Unable to stop herself from investigating further, Nylah made her way to the Great Hall.
There, amongst a crowd of drunken soldiers and well into his cups himself, sat Conor. Rage flared through her, and it only slightly tamped down her growing embarrassment over her misunderstanding. How could she think he’d want to be with her after just returning, or at all for that matter?
Heat flooded her cheeks as she backed up in the dark, away from the sight of her husband enjoying himself with his rowdy men. But within the black expanse of this poorly lit section of the hall, Nylah found herself backing into someone, her sharp squeak of surprise echoing through the space.
“Well, good evenin’ there, little mouse. Have ye come to play?”
The man’s rough voice carried with it the scent of too much drink, and he stumbled into her, knocking her back into the wall.
“Sir, know yer manners. I’m the Lady of this house.”
Nylah spoke with command, but fear spread gooseflesh across her arms as the drunken man’s hands boxed her in against the stone.
“Come on, now, little mouse. Play with me, won’t ye? I want to hear that squeak ye make again.”
Too fast for Nylah to outmaneuver, her assailant’s hands reached for the hem of her shift, throwing her robe open.
“Get away from me!”
Suddenly, a massive arm pulled the man back and slammed him into the opposite wall. Blinking in surprise, Nylan quickly realized Conor was standing before her and worked to catch her breath as he pinned down the other man.
There was a hard crack as Conor thrust him up against the wall, surely inches from busting the man’s skull.
“I’ll see ye take yer hands off me wife, ye jakey bastard.”
Dark fury coated Conor’s words, and an odd thrill reverberated through Nylah as she watched him come to her aid.
“I didnae ken!” the man shouted.
Another shove against the wall from Conor had the man’s teeth clacking together, and Nylah spoke up.
“Like hell, ye didnae! It was the first thing out of me mouth!”
“Tom, ye’re clearly pished, so get out of here before I lose me temper.” Conor’s voice came out in a growl.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Me Laird.”
Conor shoved the man away, and he sprinted back toward the Great Hall. But as soon as Nylah began to relax and her heart rate slowed, Conor grabbed her arm, pulling her further away from the loud dining hall, where they wouldn’t be seen or heard by his men.
“What the blazes got it in yer head to come down to a room full of men in nothing but yer shift?! Are ye mad?!”
Yanking her arm free, Nylah stared Conor down, her rage bubbling to the surface.
“Me?! This is me castle! I should be safer here than anywhere, and I was until ye and yer men returned.”
Even in the dark, Nylah could see Conor’s jaw clench and his knuckles turning white as he made a fist.
“They’re tired from war and drunk. Something that ye should ken to expect. But, of course, ye’ve been here, protected from the horrors of the world with nothing but chores and dinner to worry over.”
The hollow of her stomach felt as though it had dropped through the earth, and Nylah stamped her foot down.
“Someone had to care for these people while ye were off galavanting around, playing soldier. I’ve been here for them every day, seeing that they get what they need to live and doing me best to run a castle with nothing and nae one to prepare me for the job, so excuse me if me skills arenae up to yer liking.”
Conor stepped up to her, pressing her back up against the wall, but she wouldn’t be held there again.
“Me apologies , Conor. We’re not entertaining each other tonight, clearly, so go back to yer men.”
Nylah slid beneath Conor’s thick arm and started for the stairs, but once again, his grip stopped her.
“What did ye say?”
Conor’s voice was low, and as Nylah faced him to tell him off again, she noticed the look in his eyes. His dark gaze seemed almost hungry, and as he leaned closer to her face, Nylah wondered if he might try to kiss her.
“Aye, well, next time, ye should wait like a good wife.”
Nylah’s mouth fell open, and any desire she might have had to allow him a kiss was extinguished like a dead match.
“Next time, Me Laird, maybe I’ll find someone else.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and Nylah knew it, but it was too late now to take back the words.
Conor released her arm with a huff and took off for the hall, where his men were still drinking and shouting. “Go to bed, Nylah. We will talk in the morning.”