The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(42)

“Soon enough. This is the west side of the isle. We’ll sail north around Duirnish and into the sea loch, and then you will be able to see the castle.”

His gaze flicked back to the men at the sails. She felt she should feel guilty for delaying him, but she didn’t. Not if it meant he would stay. “Won’t you tell me more about it?”

He sat back down with a sound that might have been a sigh. “What would you like to know?”

He crossed his arms before his chest, and the resulting bulge of muscles made all coherent thoughts fly out of her head. Her mouth went dry, the blatant display of masculine strength making her feel tingly inside. Forsooth, he was incredible. All too well she remembered the smooth, hard lines of his bare chest. Realizing she was gaping, she collected herself and asked, “Is it like Finlaggan?”

“Nay. You will notice the difference right away. Dunvegan is a defensive stronghold, virtually impenetrable.” He gave her a long look. “You will be safe there.”

She blushed. It wasn’t what she was worried about, but it pleased her that he anticipated her fears.

“The castle is built high on a rock, like Edinburgh and Stirling,” he continued, “but accessible only from the water by a sea-gate. It was built on the ruins of an old dun. My grandfather married the heiress of a Danish knight named MacRaild and took possession of the fort. He used the stones from the dun to build a high curtain wall and a new hall to replace the longhouses. I hope to add a tower house soon.”

Christina frowned. “Do all your people live at the castle? And if there is only a sea-gate, how do you move your horses?”

He smiled, and the force of it caused her heart to slam into her chest with a hard thud. The gentle curve of his wide mouth seemed to lighten his entire face, making him look years younger. His teeth flashed white in the burgeoning darkness and his eyes sparkled, not with hardness but with mirth. But most entrancing of all was the deep crater of a dimple on his left cheek.

If she thought him handsome before, it was nothing to the sheer devastation wrought by the dazzling man before her now. She felt a little dazed just looking at him. Could she really be married to this man? But the transformation went far deeper. It made him a little less intimidating—almost approachable. Less fearsome war machine and more mortal man.

If she ignored the terrifying weapons strapped to him, with his bronze sun-streaked hair blowing in the wind and his powerful body relaxed, she felt as though she had been given a glimpse of an entirely different man. A man unburdened by war and responsibility. A man capable of tenderness and emotion.

This was the knight of her dreams. She wanted him to look like this always.

“The castle is big, but not that big,” he replied, breaking her dreamlike stupor. She slammed her mouth closed, realizing she’d been gaping—again. “There is a village nearby and a steady stream of boats to take people back and forth. In the isles you will find little occasion for horses; we travel by the sea roads. The waterways are a much more efficient and faster way to move around. But I do keep a small stable of horses in the village in case the need arises.”

“Is it dangerous?”

He shook his head. “Attacks at sea are rare. Pirates travel by sea, but they usually attack on land. Once you get used to it, you will understand. We easily travel distances in a day that would take you weeks to go on land.”

It was an entirely different way of life, she realized. One she knew so little about. She felt a twinge of self-doubt, not wanting to be a disappointment to him.

Proving herself had somehow become very important. She wanted him to like her. To not be sorry for marrying her—especially given all that he’d done for her.

But even if he hadn’t wanted the alliance at first, she reminded herself, he had changed his mind. For a man without a prevaricating bone in his body, that had to mean something. He must care for her a little bit.

She wanted to make him a good wife. But her experience, such as it was, was limited at best. When her father had been imprisoned, she’d been sent to live with her widowed aunt. Her aunt had prepared her for her duties as chatelaine, of course, but with war raging around them and most men away fighting, she’d had little opportunity to observe the day-to-day interaction of married folk. But she knew all about love from her books.

She had a thought. “Will your family be there to greet us?”

All signs of his lighthearted mood vanished. The steel curtain slammed back into place with such force that she swore she could hear it. She cursed inwardly, realizing she’d erred and wishing she could call her question back.

“Nay,” he said curtly. “Though my brother should be joining us soon.”

Something about the way he said it made her want to steer well clear of that subject. “And your sons? I should like to meet them.”

It was the right thing to say. If the smile did not return to his face, she did detect a slight softening in the creases around his eyes. “Malcolm and Murdoch are being fostered on Lewis with my uncle. Both have the makings of being fierce warriors. They were at Dunvegan last month on their way to Ireland, where they will visit their mother’s family for the Twelfth Night and Yule celebrations.” He eyed her laughingly. “Malcolm is not yet three and ten, but I think he is already taller than you.”

He was teasing her. Christina couldn’t believe it. Feigning a much-put-upon sigh, she said, “I fear that is going to be a common occurrence around here. But, believe it or not, in some places I’m considered quite average height for a woman.”