31: TROUBLE LIES ELSEWHERE

THERE WERE A few moments that Lennox wished he could grab hold of so that he could slow time just for a short while.

This evening was one such occasion.

Outside, the weather was grey and gloomy, and the drizzle had increased to a steady downpour.

Indoors, the air was damp and pungent with the odor of wet wool, too many bodies pressed close, and peat smoke.

His brother’s hall was packed.

They’d just finished the wedding feast—a delicious meal of roast blood sausage, roast venison, and braised kale and onion, served with an array of breads.

Cory hadn’t been given much notice, yet he and his lads had worked miracles.

He’d even managed to find time to bake small cakes, soaked in a rich honey syrup—and when he served them to Davina and Lennox, his face beaming with pride, the bride’s response made him grin from ear to ear.

Davina had uttered a moan of pleasure as she took a bite, and as she finished the first cake, Lennox hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

Afterward, she daintily licked her fingers—and Lennox continued to stare, transfixed by her darting pink tongue.

His groin started to throb, and suddenly, all he could think about was hauling her upstairs to his chamber, leaving the rest of the hall to celebrate in their absence.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he ate his own honey cake and fed his wife another.

Davina’s gaze met his now as she licked a crumb off his thumb, and the sensual promise in her eyes made his breathing grow shallow.

“Keep looking at me like that, lass, and I shall forget myself and take ye, here and now, on the table.”

She laughed, although her gaze glinted, almost as if she dared him to.

Lennox’s already aching groin swelled further.

Curse it, he wouldn’t be able to walk in this state, let alone dance.

He’d just noticed one of the men had retrieved his Highland pipe and was readying himself to play.

Meanwhile, others were folding up the trestle tables and placing them against the walls, making space for the dancing to come.

Around them, bursts of laughter punctuated the rumble of conversation.

It was so loud in here that Davina and Lennox had to lean close to hear each other.

Not that Lennox minded though; it just gave him an excuse to reach out and touch his wife, to brush his lips over her ear.

Desperate to lower his embarrassing state of arousal, Lennox reached out and picked up his goblet before taking a sip of rich bramble wine.

His gaze then slid around the chieftain’s table, surveying his family and their guest.

Colin Campbell sat between Iver and their mother.

His cheeks flushed with wine, he appeared to be attempting to flirt with Sheena.

Lennox’s mouth curved at the sight.

His mother was around ten years Campbell’s elder, yet she was still a handsome woman.

And their age difference didn’t seem to be putting him off.

Watching them, Lennox was surprised to see his mother didn’t look vexed.

She didn’t appear overjoyed by the attention, yet judging from the way Campbell was responding to her, she hadn’t flayed him with her tongue either.

“I never expected yer father to give us his blessing,” Lennox said, leaning into his wife once more.

“Me neither,” Davina replied, her attention flicking to the opposite end of the table, where Campbell was eagerly refilling Sheena’s goblet with wine.

“There’s a change in him … although I cannot say exactly what it is.”

“I can,” Lennox replied.

“He’s a man humbled … who wishes to make amends for his mistakes. That’s why he rode after Brogan Douglas … why he brought ye his head.” He grimaced then.

“Yer father isn’t a man to do things by halves.”

“No,” she said softly.

“But then, neither are ye.”

Lennox smiled, shifting his focus back to his wife.

“Ye are happy, I think,” he noted, “to make peace with him.”

Davina nodded.

“After everything, he’s still my father.”

“He is.” Lennox took her hands, lacing his fingers through hers.

“And it’s clear he does actually love ye.”

The wail of the Highland pipe sliced through the din then as the piper began to play a lively jig.

“Come on, Lennox!” Iver shouted down the table.

Seated with his arm around his wife, the chieftain grinned at his younger brother.

“Get yer arse out onto the floor … the wedding couple has the first dance.”

Lennox stifled a groan.

Fortunately, his throbbing erection had subsided a little, thanks to shifting his focus elsewhere.

Even so, he preferred to watch others dance rather than take part.

The only time he danced was when he’d downed a skinful.

Indeed, the last occasion was at Stirling Castle months earlier when he’d been imbibing a surfeit of rich French wine.

Yet all three of his brothers were banging their pewter goblets on the tabletop now.

Kerr’s face was flushed with drink, and he looked like he was going to pitch forward, face first into the last of the honey cakes at any moment.

Next to him, Brodie’s usually dour expression had softened a little, his own gaze glazed from all the wine he’d consumed.

He flashed Lennox a lopsided, knowing smile.

All his brothers knew he didn’t dance.

Laughing, Davina rose smoothly to her feet, pulling him with her.

“Come, husband,” she said, her voice teasing.

“Let’s give them what they want.”

Their gazes met, and his grip on her hand tightened.

Aye, he wasn’t much of a dancer, but just a couple of months ago, he couldn’t have imagined this day would arrive—that he’d love anyone as fiercely as he did this woman.

Davina brought out the best in him.

Before they’d set out from Kilchurn, he’d been restless and self-absorbed.

Lost. But she’d made him take risks, made him question his motives, his desires.

He didn’t know what true honor was until he met her, but he did now.

He loved how she interacted with him.

Davina challenged him in everything—and now, she was daring him to dance with her.

“Very well, angel,” he said, favoring her with a roguish wink.

“Are ye ready to give them a show?”

Gasping, Davina collapsed on Lennox’s sweat-slicked chest.

She’d just ridden him, hard, upon the sheepskin spread out before the glowing hearth in his chamber.

Their coupling had been fierce, almost desperate, and their ragged breathing now blended with the crackling of the fire and the pattering of rain on the wall outside.

Lennox whispered an endearment in her ear, his fingertips trailing down her spine as he held her close.

Burying her face in the curve of his neck, Davina smiled.

She was a lucky woman, indeed.

As much as she’d enjoyed the wedding feast and the dancing—and as pleased as she was that her father had joined them—she’d been impatient to leave.

Every time Lennox’s gaze hooded while they were speaking, every time his knee brushed against hers under the table or his breath feathered against her ear when he leaned close to tell her something, desire arrowed through her core.

The dancing had been a diversion.

Lennox wasn’t a natural dancer, yet his lean body moved easily, and he was happy to let her teach him.

He ignored his brothers’ teasing as he fumbled through some steps.

However, each time his arm snaked around her waist, or his fingers trailed across her wrist, Davina’s breathing hitched.

The touches teased her, bringing the frustration within her to a boil.

It had been a relief when Lennox had finally led her off the dance floor and—instead of taking her back to their seats—scooped her up into his arms, heading toward the stairs.

Whooping and cheers had followed them, yet Davina hadn’t been embarrassed.

All she’d cared about was that it was a long climb up to the tower, to Lennox’s chamber, and she wanted him now.

And she’d had him.

Sighing, Davina caressed the firelit lines of his chest with her fingertips.

“This,” she said, sliding down and brushing his nipples with her lips.

“Was the best day of my life.”

“Aye,” he said huskily.

“As it was mine.”

She propped herself up on an elbow and regarded him.

“So, what happens now?”

His mouth quirked.

“Christ’s bones, ye are insatiable, wife. I’m afraid ye shall have to wait a few moments before I can swive ye again.”

She gave him a playful slap.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” she huffed.

“I meant, what will happen to us ? Will we continue living in the broch now that we’re wed?”

He inclined his head.

“What would ye prefer, love? Iver wouldn’t mind if we built a cottage in the village … but I’m equally content to reside here if ye wish it.” His expression was tender, his gaze soft.

He really did want this to be her choice.

Davina considered his words.

Part of her was eager for them to have their own household.

However, she also enjoyed the community and kinship she’d found inside the broch.

Bonnie had become a good friend, as had Cory.

“We can stay here for the moment,” she said finally, “although if Iver would one day grant ye land, we could have our own broch.”

Lennox grinned.

“I like a woman with ambition.” He reached up, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“I admit yer idea intrigues me … and I shall speak to Iver about it.” He paused, his thumb smoothing across her chin.

“And in the meantime, I shall remain with the guard. Kerr and I work well together.”

“Ye do,” she murmured.

Despite her best efforts to avoid Lennox over the past weeks, she’d often spied the two brothers together, training the men, heading out on patrol, or talking together on the wall.

Lennox got on well with Kerr and Brodie, yet she’d also noted the easy rapport between him and Iver when she’d seen them talking at mealtimes.

There had been a rift of sorts between them before, and she was pleased to see it healed.

“I’ve still got those recruits to train,” Lennox added then, his smile fading.

“The warriors of Dun Ugadale need to be fighting fit, just in case we are called to fight for the crown in the coming months.” He grimaced.

“And relations between the MacAlisters and the MacDonalds grow sourer with each passing month. We could have problems with them in the future.”

Davina nodded.

“Growing up, my father told me there’s always trouble of some sort to contend with. Peace and prosperity are hard won and easily lost.”

“Aye,” Lennox replied.

“He’s not wrong.” His thumb skimmed across her lower lip.

“But tonight, trouble lies elsewhere, lass. Tonight, all that exists is us.”