Return Of The Highlanders: The Guardian Part 10

The conversation had somehow gone awry. The problem was that there was too much conversation altogether. If he could just get her into bed again, he could make her forget whatever nonsense she was fussing about.

He stood up and pulled her against him.

"I am sorry if I can't find the right words, but ye feel so good," he murmured against her hair, "and ye smell so good, I cannot think."

She gasped when he cupped her breast. Finally, she seemed at a loss for words.

"We are going to bed eventually, Sil," he said against her ear. "Don't make me wait. I want ye badly."

She shoved him away. "There's nothing special about wanting to take me to bed, Ian MacDonald." Flinging her arm to the side, she said, "Half the men in the clan could say that. At least, I don't think many would refuse if I made the offer."

Blood pounded in his ears. "If ye offered? If ye offered!"

"Ye wanting me in bed is not a good enough reason for me." She stomped across the room. At the door, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, "You're not good enough for me."

She slammed the door so hard her pretty rocks on the windowsill bounced.

He was more than a wee bit annoyed himself. If she offered. How could she say such a thing?

He grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulled it over his head as he crossed the room in three long strides, and took off after her down the stairs. "You are the one who wanted to be married to me in the first place. Ye can't deny it."

"Just stay away from me," she shouted back. "Or I swear, I'll stick a dirk in ye."

"You planned the whole thing because ye wanted to be away from your step-da," he bellowed, as he followed her through the hall and into the kitchen. "And I wasn't supposed to have any say over it, was I? Everyone would get what they wanted-but me."

They were in the kitchen now, with the worktable between them. When he reached around the side to get a hold of her nightshift, she grabbed a skillet from the table and swung it at his head.

"Now that I want ye to be a true wife, ye change your mind," he shouted. "Just what did ye think you were getting into? Did ye no expect a husband to want ye in his bed?"

"Perhaps I did expect it-a year ago. Or a month ago," she shouted back. "Or a few days ago, when ye finally decided to bless us with your presence."

"I am prepared to be your husband now," Ian said, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, thank ye." She rolled her eyes and patted her chest. "My heart is all aflutter over it."

"You picked me, and like it or no, I am your husband," he said. "And I don't want to ever again hear my wife talking about other men and what they'd do if ye offered."

That was when she caught him on the side of the head with the skillet.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, ye hit me!" He doubled over holding his head. It hurt like h.e.l.l.

Sileas looked as shocked by what she'd done as he was. He decided that if she were in a forgiving mood, so was he.

"Come, la.s.s, this is no way to start our married life."

"No, it isn't," she said in a shaky voice.

He noticed that she had a kitchen knife in her other hand now and reached for it. "Put the blade down, Sil, and come to bed."

That was when she hit him the second time.

He woke up on the floor with Sileas standing over him, the kitchen blade still in her hand. Judging from the fire in her eyes, she was debating just where to stick it into him.

"I think you're safe from the beast without having to use my best kitchen knife on him."

At the sound of his mother's voice, Ian risked taking his eyes off Sileas long enough to see his mother standing in the doorway in her nightshift and cap. Her long, black and gray braid hung over her shoulder, and her hands were planted on her hips.

Ian rolled out of the way as the knife fell from Sileas's hand, and it clattered to the floor where he had been lying. Sileas opened her mouth as if she were trying to form a reply to his mother, then she clamped her hand over her mouth and ran from the room.

"Thanks, mam," Ian said as he got to his feet. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings and make sense of what just happened. One minute, he was kissing Sileas in bed, and the next she was trying to kill him.

"And just what did ye think ye were doing?" his mother asked.

"Me?" he asked, thumping his chest. "Sileas was the one attempting to murder me in your kitchen."

"Ach, even half drunk as ye are, I expect ye could get away from a wee la.s.s like Sileas." His mother waved a dismissive hand. "Now, are ye going to tell me how it is that sweet la.s.s was chasing ye around the kitchen with a knife?"

"This is no something I'm going to discuss with my mother." He picked the knife and skillet up from the floor and banged them on the table.

Niall appeared in the doorway behind his mother. "What's he done to Sileas? If he's hurt her, I'll kill him."

Ian sighed and picked up the skillet again, in case he needed to defend himself.

"This is none of your business," his mother said in a sharp voice. "Go back to bed. I'll deal with Ian."

Niall stood clenching his fists and glaring at Ian for a long moment before he obeyed his mother. When the door finally closed behind Niall, Ian set the skillet down. It was all so ridiculous, that a smile tugged at his lips. "Ye will deal with me, will ye, mam? Aren't I a wee bit big for that?"

"I have some advice to give ye," she said, "and you'd best listen if ye don't want to lose your wife."

Heaving a sigh, Ian followed his mother into the hall and took a seat by the hearth. His head still pounded from the skillet. The la.s.s had a good arm.

"You've hardly spoken to Sileas since ye came home, and then ye go to her room demanding rights as a husband," his mother said, shaking her head.

"Mam, can you no respect my privacy? This is between Sileas and me."

His mother waved her hand again. "What did ye do, jump on the poor la.s.s?"

"No, mam. I didn't jump on her," Ian said, keeping his voice calm with effort. "But she is my wife."

"What kind of fool did I raise?" his mother said, tilting her head up as if beseeching Heaven.

"Ye made me marry her, and now ye are telling me I cannot act like a husband?"

"Ye know verra well that there are all kinds of marriages," his mother said, pointing her finger at him. "If ye want a happy one, you'll take my advice."

He thought of Alex's parents, who had been warring for as long as he'd known them. "All right, mam. Tell me what ye think I ought to do."

"Ye broke her heart and hurt her pride," his mother said. "So now ye must seek her forgiveness and earn her trust."

"And how am I to do that?"

"Talk with her, spend time with her," his mother said. "Make her see that ye value her."

"I do value her," he said.

"I'm no sure she understood that when ye burst into her bedchamber in the middle of the night demanding your rights."

"I told ye, it wasn't like that."

"Sileas knows ye were forced to wed her," his mother said, leaning forward. "So what ye must do is convince her that if ye could have any woman in the world, she is the one you'd choose."

He still wanted Sil after she hit him in the head with a skillet-twice. Surely, that counted for something.

But would he choose Sileas above any other woman? A week ago, he would not have believed it possible. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Sileas had a father who thought more of his dogs than he did of his daughter, and then she got a step-da who was worse," his mother said. "The la.s.s needs a man who sees her worth and loves her. She deserves that. If you can't give her that, then perhaps ye should step aside."

Ian had always been fond of Sileas. But he knew his mother was talking about something more than fondness. She was talking about what she and his father had.

His mother stood up and took his face in her hands. "I planned on the two of ye marrying long before that day your da and uncle caught ye sleeping in the woods with her."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps ye should have told me."

"It would have done no good," she said, and kissed his forehead. "Ye and Sileas were made for each other. Just don't ruin it by doing something else foolish."

CHAPTER 10.

As soon as Ian sat down at the table to join his brother and Alex for breakfast, Niall jumped to his feet, sending his spoon clattering to the floor. After giving Ian a murderous look, he stormed across the room and out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Nothing quiet about this family," Alex said, his mouth twitching. He stretched his arms in a dramatic yawn. "A fearful noise woke me last night."

"I'm warning ye, Alex, not another word," Ian said.

"I take it that the wedding night did not go as well as ye hoped," Alex said. "Do ye need me to give ye pointers, cuz?"

Ian started to lunge across the table, but he checked himself when Alex shot him a warning glance.

"Good morning, Sileas," Alex called out.

"Is it?" Sileas said in a clipped tone. Ignoring the empty place beside Ian, she walked around to the far side of the table and sat next to Alex.

Alex raised an eyebrow at Ian and commenced to shovel porridge into his mouth.

Ian cleared his throat. "Morning, Sil."

She pressed her lips into a tight line and set to stirring her porridge with a good deal of vigor. For the next several minutes, the only sound in the room was the sc.r.a.pe of spoons in bowls. For all the attention Sileas gave her porridge, she didn't appear to be eating much.

Finally, she set down her spoon. Looking past Ian as if he weren't there, she said, "Where is Niall?"

Ian cleared his throat again. "I believe he went out for some fresh air." He tried desperately to think of something else to say to her.

"Some fresh air would do ye good as well," Alex said to her. "You're looking peaked. How about I take ye out fishing today and let the sea breeze put the color back in your cheeks?"

When Ian kicked him, Alex lifted the finger resting against his cheek to signal that Ian should be patient.

Sileas narrowed her eyes, considering. Then she said, "I'd like that verra much. I haven't been fishing in years."

"Meet me on the beach in an hour, and I'll show ye how it's done," Alex said.

What the h.e.l.l was Alex up to?

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Dina came in, wiping her hands on her ap.r.o.n. "Are ye finished?" With a sly smile for Alex, she added, "Or will ye be wanting more?"

"Can ye see to Payton's breakfast, Dina?" Sileas said, as she got to her feet. "I have some things to attend to. And then I'm going fishing."

Without waiting for Dina to respond-or sparing a glance for Ian-Sileas left them and disappeared up the stairs.

The icy wind froze Sileas's cheeks and made her eyes water. Despite Alex's smooth, sure strokes with the oars, their little boat bobbed in the choppy water.

Sileas's emotions were as wild as the sea today. She was furious with Ian for sneaking into her bed without even asking her. After keeping her waiting for five long years, he had expected her to be grateful-grateful!-that he had decided to "accept the situation."

She was not a "situation."

Ian's kisses had sent an unfamiliar storm of emotions raging inside her. She was so hungry for Ian's affection, and the desire he stirred in her was so overwhelming, that she had almost lost herself to it. But she knew that for him it was only a physical need. Ian wanted her, but for the wrong reason-or at least not for the reasons she needed.

"You're not afraid of a wee bit of weather, are ye?" Alex called out, grinning.

Sileas shook her head. Like him, she was an islander and as comfortable on the sea as on land. "All the same, I'd say it's a poor day for fishing."

"Well, ye don't believe I brought ye out here for the fishing, do ye?" Alex said.

She shook her head again and watched as he skillfully maneuvered the boat around some rocks to a sheltered cove, where the sea was quieter.

" 'Tis time we had ourselves a talk." He rested his oars and leaned forward. "You and I have some scheming to do."

She pushed back the hair whipping across her face. "Scheming?"

"Aye, scheming," Alex said, and waggled his eyebrows. "Now, you and I both know that ye love Ian and always have."

"Ye don't know my feelings."