Bride For A Knight Page 0,33
he'd carried his bride inside. The rain that had dampened them in the churchyard at the burial cairns had been little more than a Highland shower. A wetting rain, aye, but not near enough for the voluminous folds of a many-elled great plaid to absorb such a huge amount of water.
A startled gasp sounded behind him and he whirled around to see Aveline hurrying toward him, her gaze fastened on the plaid-draped effigy, her feet flying all too quickly over the wet floor.
"Dia!" she cried, looking aghast. "What is - "
"Slow, lass! There's a puddle," Jamie warned too late.
"Ei-eeee!"Her foot slipped on the slick stone flags and she went flying, her arms flailing wildly. But only for the instant it took Jamie to leap forward and catch her before she could fall.
His heart pounding, he clutched her to him, cradling her in his arms and holding her head against his shoulder. "Saints o' mercy," he breathed, not wanting to think of what might have happened if he hadn't caught her. If she'd slammed down onto the hard, wet stones of the floor. Or worse, hit her head on the edge of a tomb.
"Dinna e'er run across a wet floor again," he said, well aware he was squeezing her too tightly but somehow unable to hold her gently.
She twisted to peer up at him, the movement bringing her face dangerously close to his. "I didn't know the flags were wet," she said, her soft breath warm on his neck. "I couldn't see the puddle in the dark."
Jamie frowned. "Then dinna do that, either," he warned, releasing her. "Flying about in the shadows!"
She shook out her skirts. "I wanted to see what was bothering you."
You and all your enchantments are bothering me, Jamie almost roared. Instead, he allowed himself another humph .
Then he looked at her, astounded she didn't know how perilously close he was to forgetting the wet floor and even his dripping-tartan-hung ancestor. He could ponder such mysteries later.
For now, she looked too fetching and dear for him to care about much else. Especially considering her skirts had hitched to a delightful degree, plainly exposing her slim, shapely legs and even a glimpse of pale, satiny hip. And, saints preserve him, for one heart-stopping moment, he'd caught an intimate enough flash of nakedness to know the curls betwixt her thighs looked so silky and tempting he burned to devour her whole.
"You know I shall not be taking you back to Fairmaiden tonight," he said when he trusted himself to speak. "The hall at Baldreagan should be nigh empty by the time we return and I would enjoy sitting with you in a quiet corner, perhaps before the hearth fire."
If the hall proved as private as he hoped.
And above all, if he wasn't mistaking the meaning of the flush staining her cheeks. The wonderment in her soft, wide-eyed expression and the way she kept moistening her lips.
How pliant she'd gone in his arms.
All soft and womanly.
As if she'd welcome another kiss, perhaps even some gentle stroking.
"Sorcha and I have slept at Baldreagan before," she said, watching him. "On nights when your father was restless and wished to talk."
Jamie drew a breath and let it out slowly. "Your sister's plight weighs heavy on my mind," he said, picking up the wet plaid with his free hand. "So soon as things settle and she is in better spirits, I will do what I can to find a husband for her. Perhaps - "
"My sister loved Neill," she cut in, letting him lead her from the water-stained tomb. "She truly grieves for him. I do not think she will wish to wed another."
No one will have her.
Some even whisper that losing Neill has turned her mind. The unspoken words hung between them, loud and troubling as if they echoed off the chapel walls.
Frowning, Jamie cleared his throat, seeking a solution.
"Even if she does not desire a husband," he began, hoping he'd found one,
"perhaps she will warm to the thought of a family? A marriage to a widowed clansman? One with wee bairns in need of a mother?"
To his relief, Aveline smiled. "Oh, aye, that might please her," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Do you have anyone in particular in mind?"
"Och, a cousin or two," Jamie offered, thinking of Beardie. Recently widowed and a bit of a lackwit, but left with five snot-nosed, bawling sons. Wee mischievous devils ranging in age from less than a year to seven summers if Jamie's memory served.
But even good-natured