"Oh, Dougall," Murine breathed, easing to her knees and crawling on them to the end of the bed, leaving the linens and furs behind.
"Aye?" he asked, looking her over one more time for any signs of weariness before drawing closer to the bed.
"Ye ha'e the most beautiful chest," she murmured.
He couldn't help noticing, though, that it wasn't his chest that held her attention. She was looking farther south than that. He wasn't terribly surprised. This was probably the first time she'd got a good look at a male body. Dougall was quite sure she'd caught a glimpse here and there so had had some idea what to expect to see on her wedding night. It was difficult not to in the close confines of a castle where there was precious little privacy. But he was quite sure she'd never had one she could inspect more thoroughly, as she was doing now, staring at his suddenly growing member. His cock obviously thought itself a flower and her eyes the sun, Dougall acknowledged and sighed to himself. He really didn't want to chance bedding her again and perhaps doing her harm.
Spotting her hand moving toward him, Dougall shifted out of reach and moved to sit on the bedside instead. Murine immediately followed, settling next to him.
"We ha'e to be careful," he lectured solemnly.
She nodded at once though he suspected she wasn't paying him much attention. At least not his words.
Catching her chin in hand he raised it and said, "We must go slow and gentle to protect against rubbing ye raw."
"Aye, Dougall," Murine whispered solemnly and rested her head on his chest as sweet as ye please while her hand drifted down his stomach toward his groin. He held his breath until it stopped on his leg without touching him, then let his breath out slowly. For a minute he'd feared she'd agree and then race headlong into it. Murine had a distressing tendency to do that, he noticed. She'd rushed in and saved Saidh and Jo when their lives had been under threat, she'd rushed upstairs and packed a bag to flee her brother at Danvries and she'd rushed--
Dougall's thoughts died as a soft snore reached his ears. Stiffening, he tucked his head down to stare at the top of Murine's head, then twisted slightly to get a look at her face. He didn't know whether to be relieved or groan with despair when he saw that she was sleeping against his chest like . . . well, like someone who was recovering from a terrible wound and in need of sleep for healing.
Shaking his head, Dougall eased out from beside her and guided her to lie on the bed on her stomach. He then gently tugged the linens and furs up to cover her to her waist before straightening. It was only then he realized he hadn't put her bandages back on. He didn't want to risk irritating the wound by covering her fully with the furs, but she might catch a chill without it.
More of Rory's numbing salve would do the trick, he decided and grabbed it off the bedside table where he'd left it earlier. He took some out of the jar and rubbed it between his hands briefly to warm it, then spread it gently over her wound. Once satisfied she wouldn't suffer any pain, he tugged the linens up to cover her and straightened. Then he just stood there staring down at her. Murine Carmichael. Soon to be Murine Buchanan. She was going to be his wife, he thought with a grin.
Chapter 11
Dougall heard the horses as they entered the clearing around the cottage. Blinking his eyes open, he straightened away from where he'd been leaning against the headboard of the bed and slid his feet to the floor. He had been awake most of the night, first to watch over Murine, and then fretting about his brothers when they hadn't returned by nightfall. He wasn't sure what time he'd given up and sat in the bed next to Murine, but he'd fallen asleep sitting up. Judging from the light drifting through the cracks in the shutters, it was mid to late morning now. Standing, he quickly crossed the cottage to the door and slid out to greet his brothers with a scowl.
"What the devil took ye so long?" he snapped as they reined in and began to dismount.
"Danvries was at Buchanan," Conran announced as if that said it all, and in a way it did. It certainly excused any delay in their returning.
"Did he see ye?" Dougall asked with a frown, accepting the bag Conran unhitched from his saddle and handed to him.
"Nay," Conran assured him. "The men on the wall saw us approaching. One o' them rode out to warn us off. We camped in the woods until he and his party left this morning and then continued on to the castle."
"Good thing we did too," Alick put in, unhitching a bag from his own saddle and approaching. "Aulay had told him that we hadn't returned yet. He would ha'e recognized the lie and demanded to ken where ye and Murine were had we ridden in while he was there."
"Which is why Aulay had the men watch for us and sent someone to warn us off," Geordie pointed out dryly, joining them with a bag of his own. Turning his attention to Dougall, he added, "Aulay told him that Saidh had married the MacDonnell. Danvries said he would check there next, but to send word when we returned if Murine was with us."
Dougall snorted at the thought. They'd send word to Danvries when hell froze over. He didn't even intend to send word that they were married once the deed was done. As far as he was concerned, Danvries was no longer a part of Murine's life. She was his now.
"Is Murine awake yet?" Alick asked, clutching his bag. "We brought her dresses."
"She was still asleep when I came out," Dougall murmured and then glanced from bag to bag. "If Alick's bag has dresses, what is in the other two?"
"Dresses," Geordie and Conran said as one. When Dougall goggled from them to the large sacks, Conran shrugged and said, "Well we didn't know what Murine would like. We decided to just bring them all and let her choose."
"What about the bread and cheese and wine ye were supposed to fetch back?" Dougall asked with disbelief. It was a rare day indeed that his brothers forgot about their bellies. "We can hunt up meat, but ye'll soon grow tired o' a diet o' meat alone."
"It's all coming," Conran said soothingly. "A cart is following with all of that."
"And the rest of the dresses," Geordie put in with amusement. When Dougall peered at him blankly, he shrugged and pointed out, "Well, between those Saidh left behind and Mother's wardrobe, there were a lot of gowns. We couldn't carry them all ourselves and the food too."
"We rode most of the way with the wagon, but trotted ahead once we got close to the cottage so that Murine could dress before the men get here with the cart and help carry everything in," Alick added, moving past him toward the cottage.
"Has the lass woke up at all for more than a minute or so, or has she slept through our absence?" Conran asked, following when Dougall hurried after Alick.
"She woke," Dougall said at once. "We ate, played chess and . . . other games," he finished vaguely.
"Well, that's good to hear," Conran said.
Dougall merely grunted and hurried into the cottage. He glanced around then until he spotted Alick by the bedside peering down at a still sleeping Murine.
"She looks better," he announced in a loud whisper. "She has some color in her cheeks now."
"Aye," Dougall murmured, pausing beside the younger man and smiling as he noted that Alick was right. "The exercise appears to be doing her some good."
"Walking to the table, sitting up fer a game or two, and walking back to the bed is hardly exercise," Conran said with amusement as he joined them at her bedside.
Dougall didn't think he moved a muscle at Conran's words, but he must have flinched, or done something else to give himself away, because in the next moment Conran was sucking in a sharp breath.
"Never say it!" he cried with dismay. "No' with the lass so wounded and ailing?"
"What?" Dougall asked with feigned innocence.
"Ye did!" Conran accused. "Ye dirty devil! Could ye no' at least ha'e given her the time to heal first?"
"What did he do?" Alick asked with concern.
"He tupped our Murine," Geordie said dryly, apparently able to follow what Alick couldn't.
"He didn't," Alick said at once. "She would no' ha'e let him. They're no' married yet."
> "Mayhap she was still sleeping," Conran snarled, and staggered back several steps when Dougall hauled off and slammed a fist into his face. The moment he regained his balance, Conran charged Dougall. And then all hell broke loose.
It was a crash that woke Murine. Blinking her eyes open, she winced as various aches and pains struck her. Most were from sleeping, unmoving, on her stomach for days on end. But the worst pain came from the wound on her back. She needed more of Rory's numbing salve.
Murine barely had that thought when another crash caught her attention. Frowning, she twisted her head to peer around, and then paused, her eyes widening incredulously at she stared at the four men rolling around on the cottage floor, fists flying as they crashed into various pieces of furniture. Chairs went tumbling as they rolled toward the fire, then they headed the other way sending the trestle table toppling.
"What the devil," she muttered and eased to her hands and knees, then shifted to sit on the bed to stare at them. And that's all she did; stare. Murine had no idea what to do about a situation like this. Life at Carmichael had never been this . . . well . . . rowdy. Her brothers had never fought in the castle. They'd never really fought, period. If they had a disagreement, their father made them take it to the yard and had them wrestle each other and every other soldier in the castle until they'd worked out their anger. They never would have rolled around, crashing into furniture and breaking it. Her mother would have snatched them all bald had they tried it. Including her father. It wasn't that her mother had ruled her father. She hadn't; he had definitely been the leader in the couple. But she did rule the house, and with an iron fist. This sort of behavior would not have been acceptable.
Although, Murine admitted as she watched the men tumble back toward the chairs by the fireplace again, it was rather entertaining to watch. Or would be if you didn't happen to care for one of them very much and the others quite a lot, and didn't want to see any of them hurt. Honestly, they were like to kill themselves with this nonsense, she thought, and then glanced to the door when someone pounded at it. Her gaze swung to the men again, but they didn't appear to have heard the pounding over their own curses and the racket they were making, so Murine heaved a sigh and slid off the bed. She was most relieved to find the shakiness of the day before completely gone as she crossed the floor. Truly, it had been quite unsettling to feel so weak. Worse even than the fainting business that now seemed to be cleared up, she thought as she opened the door to Niels Buchanan.
"Er . . . Lady Carmichael." Niels's gaze slid uncertainly over her nightgown before fixing on her face and staying determinedly there.
"My apologies for my state of dress. I fear I have nothing to wear," Murine murmured, fighting to keep from covering herself up with her hands. Really, while she knew it was wholly inappropriate to answer the door as she was, it was not as if she had a dress to wear. Besides, the nightgown with its high collar and long sleeves covered more than her gowns would have anyway. Unfortunately, telling herself that didn't prevent the blush that she could feel blooming on her skin.
"Did me brothers no' give ye the dresses?" Niels asked with a frown as an older man stepped into view behind him.
"Dresses?" Murine asked with interest.
"Aye." The older man nodded. "They rode ahead with them so Dougall could give them to ye and see ye dressed ere we arrived. So ye would no' feel uncomfortable around all us men."
"Oh," Murine murmured and turned to glance to Dougall and the three brothers she knew best as another crash sounded. They'd slammed into one of the chests stationed around the room, she saw, and watched the foursome roll toward the bed as she explained, "I just woke up to find them like this. I guess they forgot about the dresses."
The older man stepped up beside Niels and peered into the room at the brothers. Shaking his head, he said, "Ye'll ha'e to forgive me nephews. They're good lads most o' the time, but can be idiots on occasion."
"Nephews?" Murine asked with surprise, turning back to the man.
"Aye. I'm Acair Buchanan. Youngest brother of the father to these lads," he announced, waving toward the pile of men rolling around the floor, cursing up a storm and fists still flying. "I was away when ye arrived at Buchanan with the lads. So when I heard Dougall was fixing to marry ye, I decided to travel out with Niels here to deliver the supplies and meet ye."
"Oh, how nice," Murine said sincerely. "'Tis lovely to meet Dougall's family."
"Soon to be yer family too, lass," Acair said solemnly.
"Aye." Murine smiled as she said that. She had family again. Or would once she and Dougall married.
"I think I see the sacks the lads brought," Acair said gently, prompting her out of her silence. "Two o' 'em at least. Lying just there by the bed."
Murine turned to glance back into the room and this time spotted them at once. They were lying on the floor next to the bed as he'd said. It was a wonder she hadn't tripped over them on the way to the door. Not that she would have stopped to see what was in them with someone pounding at the door.
"Ye'd best let Niels get them, lass," Acair said, catching her arm to stop her when she started away from the door to fetch the bags. "The lads might knock ye down if ye try yerself."
"Oh. All right," Murine murmured as Niels immediately started to make his way through the room, managing to avoid the rolling mass of male fury by dodging this way and that a time or two. Niels grabbed both bags by the bed, turned to head back to the door, then dodged to the right to avoid his brothers again and apparently spotted the third bag and sidestepped to grab it too before hustling to the door.
"Here ye go," he said, sounding a tad breathless as he held out the sacks.
"Thank ye." She smiled at him as she took the bags, surprised at how heavy they were. They must be crammed full of gowns to be so heavy, she thought with a frown, then glanced into the cottage and eyed the stairs. "I'll just go above stairs and change--"
"Here." Acair took the bags Niels had just given her. Holding them in one hand, he took her elbow in the other. "I'd best escort ye, lass, so those fools do no' take ye out on yer way by." Glancing to Niels he suggested, "Why do ye no' start getting buckets o' water from the well. I'm thinking we'll need at least four."
Niels nodded and rushed outside.
Before Murine could ask what the water was for, Acair began to usher her across the room to the stairs, and she was loath to distract him. Crossing the room was something like a dance. Acair rushed her the first couple of steps, paused and drew her to an abrupt halt to avoid flailing legs as the men flew past, then hurried her two steps to the left and forward before pausing again as Alick flew past them to crash against the far wall and tumble to the floor. They watched the youngest Buchanan shake himself, pull himself to his feet and then dive back into the battle, then the uncle hustled her the last few steps to the stairs.
They were able to move more slowly then, but, much to her dismay, Murine found herself already a little out of breath by that point. It was a reminder that she was still recovering from her injury. This was only her second time out of bed.
Noticing her winded state, rather than send her on her way, Acair took the bags she carried and urged her ahead of him up the stairs, saying, "I'll see these up there for ye. Take yer time with the stairs. Ye're still recovering."
"Thank ye," Murine repeated and started up the stairs, moving as quickly as she could, which wasn't quick at all. By the time she reached the top, all she wanted was to sit down . . . and some cool air. Not necessarily in that order. Her heart was racing; she was out of breath and even sweating from the small effort it had taken to mount the stairs, which just seemed pitiful to her.
Acair stepped onto the landing and moved around her to open the door to the upper room. He walked in, set the sacks on the large bed, then turned, bowed to her and headed for the door, saying, "While ye change, I'll help Niels fetch more water. I'm thinking it might take more than the four buckets I originally thought to douse the fire in me nephews' bellies."
/> Murine opened her mouth to thank him yet again, but he held up his hand to stop her.
"Lass, do ye thank me again, I'll be insulted. Ye're soon to be family, and this was little enough to do fer ye. Take yer time up here. I ken from experience me nephews are slow to cool once their temper is up. It may take as many as eight trips to the well to sort them out."
Murine smiled faintly, and nodded as she watched him close the door, then moved the few steps necessary to reach the bed and sank to sit on the side of it. Good Lord, she was pathetic, Murine thought, pressing a hand to her chest as she waited for her heart to stop pounding so fiercely. It was going as wild as it had the day before under the influence of Dougall's caresses. The only difference was that then she hadn't wanted to stop. Her heart could have pounded its way out of her chest and she'd not have wanted to stop. It had all felt so good.
Murine shivered at the memory, and then crossed to the window and opened the shutters to find some fresh air. The cottage was warm thanks to the fire below, but it was positively stifling up here and she was already sweating from mounting the stairs.
A dark, gray day met her once the shutters opened, but Murine didn't care. She merely tipped her head up, leaned out a bit and sucked in the cool, refreshing air. Then she leaned on the window ledge to allow the air to rush over her for a moment more. Once her heartbeat had stopped its mad racing and she felt a little less sweaty, Murine started to turn back to the room, but paused as she spotted a bit of cloth caught in a crack between a couple of the stones on the rock ledge. Curious, she managed to tug it out of the spot where it had been wedged so that she could examine it. It was still damp from the rainstorm they'd apparently had. She must have slept through that, Murine thought. She hadn't heard a sound.
Turning the cloth over in her hand, she started back to the bed. The cloth was thick, expensive and jagged as if it had got caught in the crevice and torn off. It was not worn and frayed as if it had been there for ages. She could only guess that one of Dougall's brothers must have sat on the ledge to get fresh air, and torn his tartan when he got back up. Although it didn't match the tartans that she'd seen Dougall's brothers wear, nor Dougall's either. The bit of cloth was made with yellow, green and red threads. Dougall was wearing a blue and green tartan from the same material Aulay and Niels had been wearing at Buchanan. The others had tartans made with blue and red and black threads. Different batches of cloths she guessed. But then, mayhap one of them had changed their tartan after arriving here. She hadn't really noted what the boys were wearing as they'd rolled around on the floor.