Read Online When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) by Julie Johnstone - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Johnstone
Ads: Link
hot and hard against her back. The blue-eyed,
black-hairedchief apparently had no need for a wife with an opinion or a
backbone. She turned to eye Iain MacLeod, laird of the MacLeod clan, and he
didn’t even shift his gaze toward her, simply kept it unmoving and steely on
the guard.
She studied him for a moment. He
was not handsome in the style of a traditional Englishman. His dark hair grazed
his shoulders and a shadow of stubble covered his square jaw. He did not look a
bit refined, but rather tough and sinewy, as if he could kill a man with one
blow. And his looks were not deceiving: he was a warrior, as she’d seen with
her own two eyes.
Angus was the tallest man she’d
ever known, but Iain was taller—and certainly leaner .
Angus liked his ale, and as he was an expert brewer, he drank plenty of it and
had a bit of a gut. By the feel of Iain’s hard stomach against her back, he
must not drink much ale. She faced forward once more. God’s truth, leaning
against Iain was like leaning against a boulder. The thickly corded arm wrapped
around her middle made her feel alternately safe and trapped. And his large
hands… She stole a glance as he spoke to the guards. His hand was spread flat
on her belly, which suddenly fluttered as her cheeks heated. It was indecent
the way he was holding her, yet she did think he might have been trying to
protect her; however, if they were going to be married, she’d have to make him
understand she could protect herself. Angus had taught her to, after all.
The sudden groaning of the
Newcastle gates as they opened jerked her thoughts back to the present. As soon
as they passed through and were far enough away from the guards, Rory Mac
startled her when he moved his horse up beside her and Iain, and addressed her.
“How does a privileged baron’s daughter ken anything about the healing arts?”
The question didn’t anger her, even
if it was a little offensive that the Scot thought her pampered and spoiled.
She could see why it would seem odd to him, though. “My mother knew the art of
healing and taught me a small bit before she died. The rest I learned from an
older woman who lives just outside my golden castle walls.” She couldn’t help
but add the last part.
Behind her, she could hear Iain’s
low laugh, which filled her with gladness. So her future husband had a sense of
humor. That was a good start. Encouraged, she continued. “When I got weary of
being pampered by my loving father, I decided to help others he loved to pamper
with regular beatings.” She raised her eyebrows at Rory Mac, certain she had
made herself clear and daring him to ask her more.
“Ye’re bold for a Sassenach.” His
tone carried just a hint of surprise.
“Well, I am half-Scottish, so maybe
my boldness comes from that bloodline,” she offered as a sort of olive branch
of friendship.
“Aye.” He beamed. “I’m sure ye’re
correct.” With that, Rory Mac moved the horse carrying Neil and him ahead of
her and Iain.
Iain’s hand moved against her belly,
his fingers brushing perilously close to the underside of her breasts. Her body
shuddered. “Ye did good, Marion.”
Heat consumed her chest and belly
and made her shift as it spread through her. Was the need for his respect
making her feel so strange? “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Ye’re welcome. Now, quit yer
wiggling,” he demanded, his warm breath fanning her earlobe.
The pleasure of seconds ago
disappeared. He barked orders much as her father always had. “Then loosen your
hold,” she snapped.
“Why?” he teased gently. “Does my
touch light a fire of want within ye?”
“A fire?” she asked, her voice
shaking. ’Twas true that the way the man went from cold to hot in his tone made
her thoughts tumble over one another. And his fingers… They brushed back and
forth over her ribs, making her heart pound so fast she was having trouble
controlling her breathing. Suddenly ,
his fingers stilled and pressed into her flesh
black-hairedchief apparently had no need for a wife with an opinion or a
backbone. She turned to eye Iain MacLeod, laird of the MacLeod clan, and he
didn’t even shift his gaze toward her, simply kept it unmoving and steely on
the guard.
She studied him for a moment. He
was not handsome in the style of a traditional Englishman. His dark hair grazed
his shoulders and a shadow of stubble covered his square jaw. He did not look a
bit refined, but rather tough and sinewy, as if he could kill a man with one
blow. And his looks were not deceiving: he was a warrior, as she’d seen with
her own two eyes.
Angus was the tallest man she’d
ever known, but Iain was taller—and certainly leaner .
Angus liked his ale, and as he was an expert brewer, he drank plenty of it and
had a bit of a gut. By the feel of Iain’s hard stomach against her back, he
must not drink much ale. She faced forward once more. God’s truth, leaning
against Iain was like leaning against a boulder. The thickly corded arm wrapped
around her middle made her feel alternately safe and trapped. And his large
hands… She stole a glance as he spoke to the guards. His hand was spread flat
on her belly, which suddenly fluttered as her cheeks heated. It was indecent
the way he was holding her, yet she did think he might have been trying to
protect her; however, if they were going to be married, she’d have to make him
understand she could protect herself. Angus had taught her to, after all.
The sudden groaning of the
Newcastle gates as they opened jerked her thoughts back to the present. As soon
as they passed through and were far enough away from the guards, Rory Mac
startled her when he moved his horse up beside her and Iain, and addressed her.
“How does a privileged baron’s daughter ken anything about the healing arts?”
The question didn’t anger her, even
if it was a little offensive that the Scot thought her pampered and spoiled.
She could see why it would seem odd to him, though. “My mother knew the art of
healing and taught me a small bit before she died. The rest I learned from an
older woman who lives just outside my golden castle walls.” She couldn’t help
but add the last part.
Behind her, she could hear Iain’s
low laugh, which filled her with gladness. So her future husband had a sense of
humor. That was a good start. Encouraged, she continued. “When I got weary of
being pampered by my loving father, I decided to help others he loved to pamper
with regular beatings.” She raised her eyebrows at Rory Mac, certain she had
made herself clear and daring him to ask her more.
“Ye’re bold for a Sassenach.” His
tone carried just a hint of surprise.
“Well, I am half-Scottish, so maybe
my boldness comes from that bloodline,” she offered as a sort of olive branch
of friendship.
“Aye.” He beamed. “I’m sure ye’re
correct.” With that, Rory Mac moved the horse carrying Neil and him ahead of
her and Iain.
Iain’s hand moved against her belly,
his fingers brushing perilously close to the underside of her breasts. Her body
shuddered. “Ye did good, Marion.”
Heat consumed her chest and belly
and made her shift as it spread through her. Was the need for his respect
making her feel so strange? “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Ye’re welcome. Now, quit yer
wiggling,” he demanded, his warm breath fanning her earlobe.
The pleasure of seconds ago
disappeared. He barked orders much as her father always had. “Then loosen your
hold,” she snapped.
“Why?” he teased gently. “Does my
touch light a fire of want within ye?”
“A fire?” she asked, her voice
shaking. ’Twas true that the way the man went from cold to hot in his tone made
her thoughts tumble over one another. And his fingers… They brushed back and
forth over her ribs, making her heart pound so fast she was having trouble
controlling her breathing. Suddenly ,
his fingers stilled and pressed into her flesh
Similar Books
