Free The Spellbound Bride by Theresa Meyers Page A

her arms crossed over her bared chest.
    Ian lunged for his sword.

Chapter Five
     
    Lord MacIver walked in with his drunken kinsmen in tow.
    "Hie! It seems they’ve begun without us!" A roar of drunken laugher followed.
    Ian lowered his sword and reached for the coverlet, tossing it back over the bed to cover the blood-smeared sheets, then grasped his bride about the waist pulling her close. She had yanked her clothing back into place, but her hair remained loose, begging for his touch.
    Out of instinct Ian moved his arm protectively about her shoulders.
    "There was no need for you to see to us," Ian said.
    "Aye," Lord MacIver shook his head, placing a weathered hand on his shoulder. "But tradition bids it so for a proper marriage."
    Deep down it galled him that MacIver was trying so hard to make this appear to be a proper marriage, rather than a paid contract. To him it was permanent and binding, but not a love match. His bride may not know that she was bound for France, but it mattered not. They were married and she was his. He certainly did not wish to climb into bed surrounded by her suspicious kinsmen.
    Sorcha leaned into his side, laying her hand over his heart. The touch went far deeper than his skin, vibrating through him.
    "He’s only doing it to assure our safety."
    Despite the kindness of her touch, her words slapped him. Ian pulled her away from his chest, holding her arms and looked her in the eye.
    "Does he not trust me to keep you safe?"
    A wet sheen brightened the unending blue of her eyes.
    "Nay." Ian heard the distinct tremor of sadness in her voice. "He does not trust me to keep you safe."
    The insult struck home, a precise arrow piercing his pride. He stiffened, his hand running back over the nape of his neck, his fingers running over the familiar scars, each one a painful lesson. Did he not ply trade as a mercenary? Was he not able to defend himself well enough in battle? Did his bride really think so little of his abilities? He would let her know the kind of man he was.
    He stepped forward, taking his best commander’s stance against the onslaught of her kinsmen filling the chamber. "I’ve spent plenty of years getting into a bed. I believe I can manage it fine without the lot of you looking on."
    "Well get aboot it then," shouted someone from the back of the crowd.
    "Aye!" chimed in a few more male voices.
    "Get out!" Ian roared pointing at the open door.
    An uncomfortable quiet stilled the revelers, followed by a noticeable souring of their faces and sulk to their shoulders as they shuffled out of the door. He’d made no friends with his insistence. She was his now.
    Ian gritted his teeth. Until now, he had acted the willing participant. No more. He’d have his wife, without interference from her kin.
    Her small hand touched his back.
    Ian whipped around.
    "What?" It came out harsh and abrupt.
    Shocked surprised registered on her face. She creased her brows, her lips tightening into a firm line.
    "I was going to give you my thanks—," she muttered, spurning him with a swift turn of her shoulders.
    Ian relaxed. He had not meant to snap at her. Whatever intimacy they had enjoyed for a brief moment had evaporated, leaving the room cold between them.
    He felt the fool. For whatever reason, here was a woman who could make him forget his purpose, his hard-earned lessons, his rule: never trust a woman.
    As the door scraped shut, Ian went to her. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder and thought better of it, letting it sink to his side. The less he touched her, the less he would think of climbing into the bed beside her, of her silken skin and of how her hollows would taste under the cloak of night.
    God help him. He was already becoming hard at the thought. He shook his head. He’d made his decision and wasn’t a person to change his mind easily. He wanted her to come to him out of her own desires, not because she needed the deed done. He would not let himself become subject to his need for a