Bonny br**sts she had. As bonny as the rest of her. She was all soft curves and lines, pleasing to the eye. She shifted, and for a moment he thought he was caught, but she never opened her eyes. She arched just enough that the pink tips of her ni**les lifted through the water.
His mouth went dry. His c**k went rigid and strained against his trews. He curled and uncurled his fingers, unsettled by the fierce reaction she stirred within him.
He was hard and aching. Want was fierce within him. There was nothing to prevent him from charging across the room, yanking her from the tub and laying her on the bed. She was his to take. From the moment she’d set foot on his lands, she was his. Whether she married him or not.
Still, the perverse part of his nature wanted her to come to him. He wanted her to accept her fate and bind herself to him of her own accord. Aye, the taking was far more satisfying when the lass was willing. Not that he couldn’t have her willing in a matter of seconds …
A frightened gasp echoed across the room. He frowned as he stared into her open eyes. He didn’t want the lass afraid of him.
She didn’t stay afraid for long.
Sparking with outrage, she bolted to her feet. Water sloshed over the side of the wooden tub and sluiced down her body, accentuating each of those delectable curves he had just been admiring.
“How dare you!”
She stood, trembling in the water, not a stitch of clothing to obstruct a complete view of her body. Ah, she was a delectable sight, spitting fury, her br**sts thrust proudly out. Dark curls nestled at the apex of her legs, guarding the sweet mysteries that lay beneath.
And then, as if realizing she’d given him a lot more to look at by bolting to her feet, she let out a squeak and promptly dropped back into the tub. Both arms covered her chest and she hunched forward, hiding as much of herself as possible.
“Get out!” she roared.
He blinked in surprise and then grinned his appreciation of her bellow. She might be a slip of a thing, and she looked deceptively harmless, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Just ask his men, who were all understandably wary around her now.
She ordered Gannon, Diormid, and Cormac around relentlessly. At the end of the day he was treated to a list of complaints about their duties to guard—and placate—their mistress. Cormac had the idea that she should take over the training of their troops. Ewan thought she had a vicious streak and that she was merely retaliating over the fact that they’d been given the task of looking after her.
She was not above ordering around those who stumbled into her path either. And if questioned, she merely gave everyone that sweet, innocent smile and told them that according to their laird, she would soon be the mistress of the keep. Accordingly, it was their duty to take their instructions from her.
The problem was most of those instructions bordered on the absurd. She’d run everyone ragged for the last two days, and Ewan was here to tell her to cease. Father McElroy was due at any moment. One, she would give him her answer, and two, she would stop making his men look like haggard women by the end of the day.
It was shameful for warriors to whine as much as his men.
“I’ve already seen everything there is to see,” Ewan drawled.
A blush worked over her cheeks and she glared her disapproval at him.
“You shouldn’t have come in without knocking. ’Tisn’t proper.”
He lifted an eyebrow and continued to stare at her though he knew it discomfited her. The same demon that provoked her to drive his men to madness prompted him to give her a little of that back.
“You were sound asleep in the tub, lass. You weren’t going to hear an army if it passed through.”
She snorted and shook her head in denial. “I never sleep in the tub. Why, I could drown. That would be stupid, and I am never stupid, Laird.”
He grinned again but didn’t argue the fact that she had been soundly asleep when he’d entered the chamber. He cleared his throat and went on to the matter at hand.
“We need to speak, lass. ’Tis high time you give me an answer. The priest should be here at any moment. You’ve done enough mischief. ’Tis a serious matter we’ve to decide.”
“I’ll not speak to you until I’m out of the tub and dressed,” she said with a sniff.
“I could help you with the matter,” he said, without so much as flinching.
“That’s very considerate …” She ght off as she became aware of what he’d offered. Her eyes narrowed and she hugged her arms tighter around her legs. “I won’t budge until you leave this room.”
He sighed more to stifle the laughter that threatened than to show exasperation. “You have but a moment before I return. I suggest you make haste. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
He could swear she growled as he turned to walk out the door. He grinned again. She was proving to be a worthy bride and mistress to the McCabe clan. He might have expected a woman in her circumstances to be a frightened mouse, but she was as fierce as one of his warriors. He was looking forward to peeling back the many diverse layers she’d presented and getting to the woman underneath. The very beautiful, soft lass that he’d already seen glistening and wet.
Lord, but she was beautiful. And damn if he wasn’t eager to get her in front of the priest.
Mairin lunged from the tub and wrapped one of the furs tightly around her. Casting furtive glances over her shoulder, she stood in front of the fire as she hastened to dry herself enough that she could put her gown back on. It would be just like the laird to walk back in before she finished dressing.
Her hair still quite wet, she pulled her clothing on and then sat in front of the fire to dry and comb her hair. She shivered when the window fur fluttered against a particularly stiff burst of wind and the cooler air blew over her damp hair.
When the knock sounded, though she’d expected the laird, she jumped and turned to see the door open to admit him. His eyes raked over her like hot coals, and suddenly she didn’t feel a chill at all. In fact, it was decidedly warmer in her chamber now.
She stared silently, mouth dry, and, for the first time, without words. There was something different about him, and she wasn’t sure what, or that she wanted to know. He studied her—nay he wasn’t studying her. He was devouring her with his eyes. Like he was a hungry wolf closing in on a kill.
She swallowed at the image that thought invoked, and she covered her neck with her hand as if to protect her from his teeth.