She let out a sigh. “Very well. I promise I’ll not leave the keep unless escorted by a MacKinlay warrior.”
“Thank you. It’s not that I wish to restrict your freedom. I trust ye completely. It’s for your own protection. I can’t lose you, wife. I could hardly breathe when I found that first shoe lying in the mud. I was terrified I’d never see you alive again.”
She squeezed his hand, which he’d wrapped around her waist.
“I’ll be careful,” she said before twisting around to kiss him.
He was grateful for her quick compliance on the matter, but it didn’t ease his concerns. They had spoken of her running away and meeting him on the rise, but beyond that, they had no plan. Where would they go from there? How would they live?
Starting tomorrow, he would double the daily drills and work his men into deadly weapons who could protect his wife adequately. He’d enlist more men from the village to learn to fight. The more men the better.
What men weren’t at drills should be at the smithy helping to make more weapons. As the war chief, it was his duty to protect his people. This new plan would ensure that every MacKinlay was safe on clan lands, not just his wife.
But if the English decided to come for Mari, they would get a war.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When the group made it back to Dunardry, Cam took Mari’s arm, led her straight up to their chambers, and barred the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked. It was almost time for the evening meal. Much too early to go to bed without starting talk.
Her husband didn’t seem to care. He turned her around and plucked at her laces until her gown fell down around her feet. Then he turned her so she faced him, and kissed her with a passion that bordered on desperation. Instantly, she was caught up in it. Soon she was pulling his shirt from his waistband and loosening his belt.
“I know you’re too bruised from your ordeal for me to take ye, but I need to feel you alive against me, skin to skin.”
“I’m not too sore,” she said honestly. Her leg muscles were still a bit shaky, but the rest of her was fine.
He groaned at her consent and asked her again. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I want to hear your sounds and slip into your heat. It’s battle lust. Something men go through when they’ve been scared out of their wits.”
“I’m well,” she repeated, needing to feel him for much the same reasons. She’d known what would have happened if those boys had turned her over to the English. Worse, Cam would have hunted them down and tried to get her back. It wouldn’t have mattered how many there were, or how outarmed and outmanned he was. He would have attacked in an effort to save her.
She gasped as he plunged into her. She felt his need in each firm stroke and matched his urgency, crying out when she peaked. He didn’t last much longer, and soon they had collapsed together onto the bed. His heart pounded against her ear.
She remembered the injuries to his chest and ribs and moved to give him room, but he stayed her with a gentle hand on her back. Slowly, like a snake, his arm coiled around her, pulling her tight to his body.
“I’ll never let anyone take you. Never.”
She heard the truth in his promise and made her own. Though silently spoken, it was just as true.
She vowed she would protect him with her life.
…
When Cam was rested from both rescuing and making love to his wife, he made his way to the bailey. Some of his men had remained to practice, while others had dispersed.
He couldn’t give up what was left of the day. There was no time to spare. After sending the men off to fetch the others, he picked up his sword and swung it with a frown. In the weeks he’d spent abed, he’d grown weaker. He’d have to push himself to make up the time lost.
When the men had all gathered, he broke them into two groups. Half were sent out to find ways to leave the castle without using the front gate. The more escape routes, the better.
The rest of his men were put through their paces until the late meal was served. He told them to be there before dawn the next morning, and when they complained, he told them they would stay past dark.
He heard a few of the men grumble as they left, saying they didn’t need extra training to take Baehaven Castle. Cam decided to let them go on thinking that was the cause for the extra effort. The other men didn’t know the reason Mari had been kidnapped, and he wanted to keep it that way.
He trusted his men, but a hundred pounds for a half-English lass—his wife or no—might be more temptation than a poor warrior could pass up. He’d rather not put his wife or his men through that.
He shared the news with Lach and swore Bryce and Liam to silence on the matter.
“Are you planning to run?” Lach asked when they were alone at the table.
“I want to be prepared for that possibility. If I can take her away until the danger is past, we could come back when they’ve gone.”
“Have you ever seen an English search?” Lach asked with a frown. “They leave no stone unturned. You would need to leave the lands for a long time.”
“Your wife has never needed to live rough on the land for verra long,” Bryce commented.
“I ken it well enough, but she’s a strong woman. She’ll do what needs done.” She’d managed to get from London to the wilds of northern Scotland all on her own. He frowned, thinking of the state she’d been in that day. Thin, dirty, and dressed in ratty clothing.
He liked to imagine Mari as a duchess, sitting in a parlor in pretty dresses with maids to do her bidding. Being married to Cam was not elegant or luxurious. Though he’d never once heard her complain.
“It will not be the only time,” Lach said. “They’ll come back over and over again to check to see if she is here.”
“Then each time they return, we’ll not be here.”
Cam would do whatever it took to protect his wife.
…
While Cam worked every waking hour with his men, Mari spent the days gathering and making spare clothing she could hide beyond the castle in case she needed to flee. Since the incident with the adolescent bounty hunters she had remained in the keep, guarded by one of her husband’s men when he was unavailable.
“You’ve received a letter,” Kenna said, handing her a thin envelope.
Mari used to love to get mail, though she rarely did, thanks to the duke. But now, here at Dunardry, mail addressed to her could only mean trouble.
“Who knows I’m here?” she asked as she took it. They had agreed not even to tell their brothers she was here. If anyone mentioned it to any of the many English soldiers who patrolled the lands, she would be found.