“Do ye think they’re watching the keep or us specifically?”
“I canna guess because I just dinna ken. I canna imagine anyone scouting Dunbeath to prepare an attack. Nay one has done that since yer Kerr grandfather arrived with De Soules and the Gunns to take yer mama from yer da. Nae a Kerr nor a Gunn rode home that day. Since then, nay one has dared.”
“We’re a powerful clan on our own, but with the Sutherlands and Mackays at our side, nay one dares. But mayhap they’re counting on it being more than a day’s ride to our families on either side of our borders.”
“Saoirse, nay one is moving an army large enough to defeat this clan without the Sutherlands or Mackays noticing. Only the Gunns might allow someone to cross their land to reach here. Except for the Gunns, everyone west of Dunbeath is family. The Mackays, the MacLeods of Assynt, and us Mackenzies arenae threats, and we wouldnae allow any who are to draw this close. It makes me think this isnae aboot the Sinclairs or Dunbeath. This is aboot me.”
“But who wishes ye that much harm? Is it the Mathesons?”
“That’s ma best guess. Word could have spread aboot why Seamus and I ended the betrothal. We didna announce it, but people arenae fools. People kenned aboot what happened that night. That isnae a piece of gossip most people would keep to themselves.” Magnus’s jaw clenched.
“Magnus, I ken ye regret things aboot that night, but I wouldnae have done aught different from what ye did. She deserved it.”
“And if that’s the reason someone’s trying to kill me?” Magnus shook his head. “I dinna regret nae marrying her. I wouldnae be here with ye if I had. But I dinna want to die before I get to be a husband to ye.”
Saoirse slid her hands up his chest, then wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes. “I’d say ye were vera much ma husband a little while ago. Mayhap ye’d like that chance again right now.”
Magnus peered into Saoirse’s dark chocolate eyes, her eagerness contagious. He slid his hands over her backside and drew her closer. “Are ye sore,mo chridhe?”
Saoirse shook her head. “I thought I might be. I’m just—achy.” She didn’t know how better to describe the yearning she felt physically for her husband. Their passionate and erotic coupling played in her mind on a loop. The memory left her wishing to explore what else they could share. Her body longed for the still strange but oh so satisfying feel of Magnus buried within her.
“I canna leave ma wife in such a state.”
Magnus squeezed her backside before yanking at the laces along her back while Saoirse unfastened the brooch at his shoulder. She dropped the piece of jewelry into his sporran before attacking his belt. She whipped it from his waist, letting it drop to the floor as they both toed off their shoes. She caught his Mackenzie plaid as it unraveled. She glanced at it as she tossed it onto the foot of the bed; the pattern registering for the first time.
“Saoirse?”
“I’m nae a Sinclair anymore. I’m a Mackenzie. I willna wear ma plaid anymore.” Saoirse looked up at Magnus, the gravity of the bittersweet moment settling over her. “But I dinna have a new one either.”
Magnus drew her over to a chair before the fireplace and sat down. He settled her onto his lap. “Ye will always be a Sinclair. That willna ever end. Everything aboot ye—yer compassion, yer morals, yer hard work, yer sense of family and duty—makes ye a Sinclair, and marriage canna end that. But I welcome ye into Clan Mackenzie. I’d like ye to wear ma plaid, but if ye arenae ready, I willna ask it of ye.”
“I want to, but I dinna have one. I canna wear yers. I’ll drown, and I ken Auntie Siùsan doesnae have one.”
“Nay, she doesnae. And even if she did, I wouldnae wish ye to wear it. It would be a remnant of days better left in the past, better left forgotten. I ken mine are too big for ye, but I have more than one with me. If ye wish to wear our clan’s pattern, then we can surely have someone cut it down to fit ye as an arisaid.”
“Our clan.” Saoirse let that idea roll around in her head. She’d considered her duties once she returned with Magnus, but she hadn’t considered that she would no longer claim Sinclair as her name or her clan. When her gaze met Magnus’s, she realized she made him nervous. “I like that idea. I’m proud to be a Mackenzie now. I just have to get used to it.”
“I’m proud ye’re ma wife,mo chridhe. It’s warm these days, so ye dinna need an arisaid. If ye wish to wait until we arrive home, ye could have one made for yer size.”
“Home.” That was another jarring notion. She’d imagined the Mackenzie keep being her home, but now that her move was imminent and certain, she had a bout of nerves. She’d traveled many places with her family, visiting their extended relatives. But she’d always known she would return to Dunbeath, her chamber she shared with her sisters, and the comfort of home. “Will yer clan welcome me into yer home? Will Caroline?”
“Of course. Saoirse, ye’ve been to Eilean Donan before, and ye ken Caroline.”
“I was a guest. It’ll be different when I arrive and dinna intend to leave.”
“I think it will thrill them that ye’re ma wife. They couldnae ask for anyone better to join the clan.”
Magnus pulled down Saoirse’s right sleeve and kissed along her shoulder and over her collarbone. His hand slid beneath the neckline to cup her breast. She leaned forward, snaring his mouth in a kiss that made him fear leaking. Saoirse yanked her arms free from her gown and pushed it and her chemise to her waist once she untied the ribbons at her shoulders. Magnus lifted her breasts to his mouth, alternating suckling them. His tongue flicked her nipples as they puckered. She slipped her hands beneath his leine and over his shoulders. She relished the heat he emanated, especially knowing it wasn’t from illness. He was a like the blazing sun during a summer day’s zenith. Everything about him warmed her.
“Magnus, I admit I’m nervous aboot leaving here and joining a new clan. But I ken I want to be by yer side for the rest of ma life. Ma want is stronger than ma fear.”
“I will help ye adjust. I willna abandon ye to Caroline and assume ye will be the best of friends immediately. I willna leave Caroline to introduce ye to our clan.” Magnus grinned and nipped at her earlobe. “Mayhap I wish to show off that I have the bonniest bride in all the lands.”
Magnus stood from the chair, then carried Saoirse to the bed. He placed her on her feet, so she could push her chemise and kirtle to the floor while he removed his leine. Their hands roamed over one another as they pressed their bodies together. Saoirse gripped his shoulders as she eased back onto the bed, drawing him with her. She settled against the pillows and opened her arms and legs to welcome his body against hers again, but Magnus shifted and crawled down the bed until he could rest his shoulders between her thighs.
He kissed along the inside of each leg before sliding a finger into her sheath. Her hips came off the bed of their own accord, but it brought her mons to his mouth. He kissed each fold where her leg met her hip. Then he flattened his tongue and pressed it against her pearl. He brought his lips around it and sucked. He watched Saoirse’s eyes drift closed as she clenched her hands around the bedding. His tongue and fingers soon alternated working her sheath and button until she writhed. He chuckled when she grabbed a fistful of hair and pressed his face to her just before she climaxed. She stifled her moan, not allowing herself to cry out like she had in the cave. But he saw the flush climb up her neck and into her cheeks. He watched her labored breathing. And he tasted her.
“Magnus, hold me.” Saoirse’s request was so soft he nearly didn’t hear. But he would oblige his bride with whatever she wished, especially if it meant he could be close to her. He shifted until she could wrap her arms and legs around him. He slid his arms beneath her shoulders and embraced her. “Ye willna crush me. Please dinna hold back.”
