“Ethan told me I should come tend your wound”. Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “He said you’d be too stubborn to tend it yourself and it would fester. And he said a few other unflattering things as well, which I won’t repeat.”
She put the basket down and reached for his arm. He pulled it away.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, you’re still bleeding. Let me see it.”
“No, it’s only a scratch, Ella. Leave me be.”
She glared at him. He was acting like an insolent child, for God’s sake. “Either you remove your shirt and let me tend to that wound or I will…” A wicked idea popped into her head. “I willkissyou, Laird MacKenzie.”
She gave him a smug look and crossed her arms, amused as his eyes widened as if in fear and he begrudgingly pulled his shirt over his head, looking at her all the while as if she may decide to bite him instead. Shebit her bottom lip and gave a little sigh. It was perhaps less than flattering that the very threat of her kiss was enough to bend him to her will as if she held a dagger to his throat.
“Thank you,” she said dryly. She took hold of his arm and examined the wound. His flesh was rock hard under her hand, the skin smooth and warm, stretched taut over solid muscle. “It isn’t too deep, but it needs to be stitched.I’ll have to clean it first.” She reached for a flask of whiskey, and before he could protest, she poured some over the wound. He flinched, but did not make a sound. She took a strip of linen from her basket, soaked it in more whiskey, and dabbed the blood away. Then she took out her needle and thread, and moved to stand between his legs, where she could get the proper angle with her right hand, while not blocking the light.And, she had to admit, it may also have had a bit to do with Ethan’s words. She felt him tense, and thought his breath quickened just a little. She pressed her thigh lightly against his, a subtle gesture, but effective none-the-less. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. Hurry and be done with it.”
His voice was deeper, huskier than before.Whatwouldit take to bring him to his knees? She fought to keep her own breathing steady as she carefully stitched, trying hard not to hurt him too much. It had frightened her more than she wanted to admit to see him fight like that, to see him injured, even if not badly.To a seasoned warrior like Ceann, the wound she now stitched was probably akin to a scratch. The many scars that covered his body were testament to that. She didn’t want him to be hurt, but still, he fought beautifully, with the grace and strength of a lion. It had stirred something primitive in her blood, to see him in battle, and now, to touch his sweat dampened skin and tend his wound. It felt almost… familiar, as if she had done so before, somewhere, sometime. She finished the last stitch and bent over to bite off the thread. She heard him suck in a breath, and let it out with a slight sob. She turned to him.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, concerned.
“No”, he bit out. But his expression was tight, as if he were in pain. “Leave me…now.”
She threw him a look. “As you wish, you ungrateful… boor.Just let me bind your arm and I’ll be gone from your sight.But,” she went on, “thank you for fighting for me. Though I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that hateful man, whether you willed it or no.”
He did not reply. She dabbed more whiskey on the stitched wound, then carefully wrapped it with a linen strip. Packing up her things, she went to the opening of the tent and turned to look back.
“Good day, Laird.”
Ceann let out the breath he had been holding. Maybe it was the excitement of the battle, he didn’t know, but he had just barely held himself back from taking her,again, and that while she was plying a needle to his damned arm. The next time he just may lose this battle with his will. When she had stood between his thighs to stitch the cut, he had felt pain only in his groin.The way his body roused to hers, the mere scent of her was enough to make his heart race and his cock rock-hard. He groaned. It throbbed still.Jesu, the wound was minor, but he still wasn’t sure he would survive the night. Perhaps Ethan was right after all. Perhaps he should just take her and be done with it, to hell with the consequences. And if he was forced into marriage with her, would that be so bad? No, in truth he would gladly take her as his wife, if it should come to that.
That night, there was a wild celebration around a huge bonfire, the likes of which would have to last many of the clans until the next year. There was feasting and music and the ale and wine flowed freely. Ella, as caught up in the magic as anyone else, danced around the fire with the other young women, the thud of the drums making her own heart beat faster. They had bonfires and dancing at home too, but somehow this seemed different, better. In the flickering light, nothing seemed quite real, and everything was just a bit magical. She grabbed Mairi’s hand as she came by and they swung around, laughing, turning to dance in the other direction.Ella could feel Ceann’s eyes on her, watching her every move. She knew exactly where he stood; was so aware of him that she would have known immediately had he walked away, or come closer.He did not dance, or even speak to anyone, he just watched, arms folded across his chest in a way that clearly showed the thick muscles of his arms.He had not so much as spoken to her since she had tended his wound, but for tonight, she didn’t care. If he wanted to torture himself for awhile, let him. She was having more fun than she could remember. In such a short time, and under the strangest of circumstances, these people had become like family to her, an extended family she had never had before. And just for tonight, with the future still uncertain, she wanted to pretend to belong here.
The way she moved when she danced; it was the most tempting and erotic thing he had ever seen. He could watch her forever.
He felt a tug at his elbow and looked down to see Maggie there. “Och, Maggie, do you need something?” he asked her.
“No, I’m fine Ceann. She’s having a grand time, I’d say, Ella is.” She nodded towards the fire. “A lovely lass, and how well she fits at Tulloch, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Aye, she’s lovely.”
Maggie went on, “I think perhaps she cares for you Ceann. Do you think…”
“No, Maggie… I… No.”
“Och, Ceann lad, do you not want a love of your own? I know you’ve been hurt before, but don’t you remember the love between your mother and father? Do you not want the same for yourself?”
“I don’t want to talk about it Maggie!” he said, more harshly than he meant. Suddenly it seemed that everyone and everything was trying to throw Ella into his arms.Hell, he was tired of fighting to keep his distance. Tired of the insatiable lust that plagued him night and day, the wanting, theneeding… it was too much. He looked up again, in time to see her twirled about and spun into the waiting arms of a man she had been dancing with. The man did not waste the opportunity, but bent to kiss her before she could spin away again. Ella laughed and playfully pushed him back. Ceann gritted his teeth hard, his hands fisted at his sides. A low growl escaped his throat, barely heard over the music.Maggie smiled. She loved Ceann like her own son, had practically raisedhim, and she could see as plain as day that the laird had finally found his lady.
It was quite late when Ella and Mairi, still laughing, headed back to their tent. Mairi, as usual, was asleep almost instantly, and would not waken until the dawn. Ella did not sleep right away, but as was her custom, closed her eyes and thought through the events of the day. What a day it had been! What would have happened if Ceann had not won the fight for her? Would she really have been forced to go with McInnes? Would Ceann have let her go? She liked to think he wouldn’t have. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened to her then. Instead, she listened to the drumbeats and music, still playing so late into the night. The drumbeats were like the rhythm of a heart, pounding and throbbing wildly in the darkness. Then she thought of Ceann, the firelight dancing across his face as he watched her. He had stood there, and watched.Just watched.
***
Ethan and Iona sat together at the edge of the now dwindling crowd around the fire, talking quietly.
“This is more than I bargained for when I agreed to help”, Ethan complained. “The man is as pig-headed as… well… he just is. The woman of his dreams is right there for the taking, practically offered up on a silver platter, and what does he do? He turns away from her, again! He’s an imbecile!”
Iona smiled ruefully. “Aye, that he is… sometimes.” Her face turned serious. “But tonight… tonight the time is finally right, I feel it. Just one last little shove, Ethan, and it will all be set in motion.”
