Page 35 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

35

D uncan was there when Alison woke up in the morning. For a moment, she had thought that she had imagined or dreamt of him coming into her room in the middle of the night, but she had not.

And so their routine began. Every night, even if they had not seen each other much during the day, Duncan would come into her room, stare pointedly at her bed, and she would remind him that he had a chamber of his own with a perfectly large bed.

Duncan would then walk to the reading chair and collapse into it. Sometimes they would banter, sometimes they would not, but the next morning, he was always there to greet her when she awoke.

A week passed. Every day, Alison’s wound hurt less and less. On the tenth day, Malina was able to remove the stitches.

“Ye’ll have to be extra careful over the next few days,” the healer had warned, “since we willnae have the stitches there holdin’ everything together. But ye willnae be at risk.”

Alison had heeded that warning, and now, a little over two weeks since the stabbing, she was almost pain-free.

“Maither,” Rosie called from across the table. “Can we go to the village tomorrow? We havenae gone in ages.”

Guilt flooded Alison as she shook her head. “Nae yet, lass, but I should be able to start goin’ back next Tuesday. I think I should be healed enough by then.”

Rosie’s expression soured, but just as she opened her mouth to argue, Malina appeared in the doorway.

“I can take the little lady,” she offered, and Rosie’s face immediately lit up with pure, unbridled joy. “In fact, she can go tonight and stay with the Tomlinsons.”

“Ye cannae just show up with Rosie on their doorstep without prior notice,” Alison admonished, but Malina’s grin only widened.

“Who said it would be without prior notice?”

“I want to go!” Rosie yelled, throwing her arms up in celebration.

“Ye’ve already spoken to them?” Alison asked.

A servant came into the room at that moment and cleared the last of the dishes from the dining table.

Alison had hardly seen Duncan all day. He had not been present for breakfast or dinner. Despite her best efforts, she could not get a straight answer from anyone about where her husband was.

“Has the Laird already eaten his supper?” she asked the servant. “Did he eat it in his study?”

He did not answer her. He simply grabbed the final dish and exited the room.

Alison could have sworn that he seemed in a hurry, as though he could not wait to get away from her.

“What in the name of Heaven is goin’ on today?”

“I can answer that,” a familiar voice sounded from the doorway, and Alison whirled around to face its source.

Duncan stood at the door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wooden frame.

“What do ye say, little lady?” Malina asked Rosie. “Want to come with me to the village to see the Tomlinsons?”

Rosie shouted her agreement before pushing her chair away from the table and sprinting over to the healer.

Alison wanted to bombard her with questions, but she never got the chance. By the time she had risen from her chair, Malina and Rosie had already disappeared down the corridor, and Duncan had moved away from the door, blocking her path.

“Where are Arthur and Evander?” she asked.

The two Lairds had stayed longer than the ‘few days’ Duncan had initially stated. She had gotten rather used to Arthur’s dry, sardonic sense of humor and Evander’s amusing retorts. While she did not mind their presence in the slightest, it was odd not to see the three of them together.

However, it would be nice to finally have the castle all to themselves. Now that she was healed, there were a lot of promises her husband had to fulfill.

“They left,” Duncan said simply, offering no further explanation.

Alison walked toward him, thinking that he would move so she could step into the corridor, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to move out of her way, but the only response she received was a mysterious grin.

“Left?” she inquired. “As in they’ve returned to their castles or they’re merely out on a ride? Ye promised to explain what’s goin’ on, so can ye get on with it?”

Duncan listened to her with thinly veiled amusement.

“Evander and Arthur are returnin’ to their homes,” he explained. “And with Rosie goin’ with Malina, the final servant should be finishin’ up and headin’ out as well.”

Alison was completely baffled. Nothing he was saying made any sense. Had she not just watched one of their servants clear the table? She had seen Effie that morning, and the maid had not mentioned anything about leaving later in the day.

“What are ye jabberin’ about?” Alison demanded, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared at her husband.

“I gave them the evenin’ off,” he explained. “They’re all goin’ home to spend time with their families, and give us some time alone.”

“Ye told them all to go home?”

Duncan nodded, before finally taking a step toward her.

There had already been some distance between them, so it did not take long before his chest was pressed against hers.

“Aye, I did.” Duncan wrapped his thick, strong arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I told ye, wife. I am a patient man, and I waited until ye were healed. Durin’ that time, I’d been makin’ me own plans.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Plans?” she parroted.

He nodded his head. “Aye. Evander and Arthur have been helpin’ me make the castle more secure. We’ve been workin’ on it for the last two weeks. That way, nothin’ will ever happen to ye again.”

His eyes held hers as he spoke.

“And while we were doin’ that,” he continued, “the servants were workin’ on somethin’ else for me. Somethin’ that ye’ll finally see today.”

Butterflies fluttered in Alison’s belly as Duncan leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her mouth.

When their lips touched, lightning shot through her. She stood on her tiptoes, eager to claim more of his mouth, but their kiss was over just as quickly as it had begun.

She let out a whine of protest, and Duncan laughed.

“Dinnae worry, wife,” he purred seductively, his eyes glittering with anticipation as he looked down at her. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

He intertwined his fingers with hers and led her through the castle.

“Where are we headin’ first?” she asked.

Duncan shook his head. “Ye’ll see in a moment.”

Alison did not ask him again.

The familiar corridors rushed past her, and it did not take long for her to realize that they were following the same route they took during Rosie’s night walks.

Alison trotted to keep pace with her husband, happy to finally stretch her legs after many weeks of treating her body delicately.

They turned the corner that led to the portrait of Duncan and Lucy. But something was different.

Alison skidded to a stop and stared at the wall. She carefully examined the three paintings of the landscapes that surrounded the castle, the stuffed ram’s head, as well as the suit of armor off to the side.

The position of his and Lucy’s portrait had changed. Usually, the portrait hung in the center of the wall, with everything else spaced evenly around it. But now the painting was slightly off-center, and a new one had been hung directly beside it.

Alison could not see the subject of the new painting, as it had been covered with a curtain. She could make out the shape of it, and it was exactly the same size as the painting that hung beside it.

“What is this?” she asked, taking a step forward.

As her curiosity grew, she raised a hand to yank down the curtain, but she was stopped by Duncan. He put a hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch stopping her in her tracks.

“I’ll show ye,” he answered.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, moving her around until she stood directly between the new painting and the one of Duncan and Lucy.

With a flourish, Duncan pulled down the curtain covering the new painting. The new piece of art was revealed in a flutter of fabric, and Alison’s breath caught in her throat.

“’Tis stunnin’,” she whispered, putting one hand over her mouth as she stared at it in awe.

Her eyes scanned the canvas, taking in every minute detail. It was a painting of them—of their family.

Duncan, Alison, and Rosie in between.

It was stunning, painted with brilliant, beautiful strokes and untraditionally bright colors. It was vibrant and full of life. Alison instantly loved it so much that she felt as if her heart might burst.

“I cannae believe ye did this,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“Believe it, wife,” Duncan responded tenderly.

There was a note in his voice that she had never heard before, and she turned to look at him. A tempest of emotions raged behind his eyes.

There was a softness there, a level of affection she had never seen before. And, as always, there was desire.

That look she knew all too well. The naked yearning in his expression elicited intense shivers of need that rushed through every tender part of her body and soul.

“I thought I told ye,” Alison said, her lips curling into a sardonic grin, “I am nae yer wife. Nae yet.”

A low, dark growl rumbled in the back of Duncan’s throat.

“I think I can help with that,” he said, desire infusing each word like a promise.

He was on her in a flash, his large arms wrapping around her body and pulling her to him. His mountainous frame enveloped her entire body like a woolen blanket, his heat washing over her and driving her wild.

Their mouths crashed against each other. Just as she had in the dining hall, Alison rose on her tiptoes, craving more.

This time, however, Duncan was more than happy to oblige. Her mouth opened, and his tongue darted inside, toying with hers. She was drunk on the feel of him, on the taste of him.

It was not enough.

It had been too long since he had been on his knees before her. Alison had filled all her nights and most of her days with fantasies of what they would do to each other once she was fully healed.

She could not wait for another moment.

Her hands raked down his back, her fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. Duncan moaned into her mouth, the sound nearly driving her mad.

“I need ye,” she murmured without breaking their kiss.

Duncan groaned in response, then bent down and cupped her bottom in his massive hands.

In one swift movement, he lifted her feet off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them around his middle as he began to walk.

Her center was aligned with his thick manhood, and she ground her hips against him. It was a delicious feeling, sending rivers of need running through her.

She tugged on his long, dark hair, breaking their kiss long enough so she could look into his face.

Duncan paused, and her eyes darted around them, taking in their surroundings. They were right outside the door to his chambers, which meant they were not far from his bed. The very same bed that Duncan had promised he would ravish her in.

“Promise me,” she panted. “Promise me that ye will truly stay. That this is all real and ye willnae go away.”

“I could nay more leave ye now than I could cut off me own arm.” Duncan’s voice was raw, emotion lacing every word. “Can ye nae see it, wife? Have ye been that blind?”

Alison swallowed hard past the dam of emotions that was threatening to burst.

“Say it,” she urged.

Her voice was faint, the words little more than a whisper, but Duncan still heard them.

“I love ye,” he answered. “I am in love with ye.”