The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(85)

Meg’s eyes twinkled. “What other uses did you have in mind?”

He reached his finger down and stroked the side of her face with such love and adoration in his gaze that it made Christina’s heart squeeze with longing. Bending down, he whispered in her ear. Whatever he said caused his pretty bride to blush to her roots, but there was no mistaking the look of sensual anticipation in her gaze.

What do you want from me?

Tor’s strangely intense question, uttered right before he’d kissed her, had haunted her. But now she knew the answer: This was what she wanted.

Perhaps she should be happy with what she had. Tor had done so much for her. He’d rescued her from a horrible situation and given her his name, a home, and most importantly a sense of safety and security. He’d given her passion, and she knew that eventually he’d give her children. He’d protect her with his life—as he would any of his clansmen—because he would think it his duty to do so. He treated her if not with tenderness then at least with consideration. After what had happened in the woods, she knew that no matter how hard she pushed him, he would never strike her. He was in control, commanding, honorable, steadfast, and solid as a rock—by any measure a warrior and a leader to admire.

All this, yet it wasn’t enough. Not when she looked at the couple now seated beside her. What did she want from him? She wanted everything. She wanted tender looks, fierce kisses, loving smiles, and long nights together beside the hearth. She wanted laughter and companionship, intimacy and a man who valued her—not as a pretty plaything, but as a person.

She wanted his heart.

For he already held hers in the palm of his big iron fist.

I love him. The truth was so obvious that she wondered how she hadn’t realized it before. She loved his solid strength, his confidence, his decisiveness, his innate fairness, and even his gruff manner. She knew she could always count on him. He was an important chief, heralded as the greatest warrior of his age, but he always treated her with respect, listening to her opinions.

And if she’d had any doubt, the utter devastation she’d felt upon witnessing that kiss took it away. From the moment he’d rescued her from ravishment at Finlaggan to the kiss they’d shared in the forest, he’d claimed a piece of her heart. Now it was his.

If he wanted it.

It was late when Tor strode through the sea-gate. His gaze fastened immediately on the man standing in the courtyard, waiting for him. The prodigal had returned.

Colyne had brought word earlier from his henchman Murdoch of their arrival. Tor would have come right away, but he’d been helping the guard ready for the journey. Tomorrow they would leave for the Cuillen Mountains to begin the last—and most intense—phase of training. What some called Perdition. It wasn’t much of an exaggeration. But nothing brought a team together like shared suffering.

Tor had been waiting for this moment for a long time. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Torquil watched him approach uncertainly, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Tor drew back his fist and slammed it into his brother’s jaw. Torquil’s head snapped back, and he let out a pained grunt.

God’s blood, that felt good!

Massaging his jaw with his hand, Torquil eyed him warily, as if expecting another blow. Tor hadn’t decided yet.

“It’s good to see you, too, Chief.”

“Chief? Convenient for you to remember now,” Tor said icily. Rain pelted him in the face. “Is there a reason you are standing outside and not in the Hall?”

Torquil looked uncomfortable. “I’d ask for a moment alone first, if you don’t mind.”

He did, but his brother seemed unusually earnest. “Leave us,” Tor said to the other guardsmen. When they’d retreated, he said, “Now, explain.”

Torquil gave him an uncertain look, trying to gauge his mood. He should have known better. Tor gave nothing away. Finally, his brother shrugged. “I knew you’d be angry.”

An understatement, and Torquil bloody well knew it. “And you thought I’d be less angry standing outside in the rain?”

Torquil squared his shoulders and met his gaze, steel to steel. “I didn’t want to upset her. Good thing, after that greeting.” He rubbed his bruised jaw for effect.

It took Tor a moment to realize what he meant. “So I’m out here freezing my bollocks off so your abducted bride doesn’t have her tender feelings hurt?” he asked incredulously. His brother had gone daft.

The muscle in Torquil’s jaw jumped. He locked his jaw and nodded. “The lass is not to blame for what happened. It is I alone who deserve your wrath, so do what you will, but I’ll not have my wife forced to witness it—or to get the wrong first impression of you.”

Tor’s gaze narrowed. “And what impression is that?”

A wry smile lifted his brother’s mouth. “You can be a little terrifying on the rare occasions you lose your temper.”

Not all that rare since he’d met Christine, Tor thought. He arched a brow. “Only a little?”

Torquil grinned. “Meg doesn’t know you like I do. She might think you truly mean to lop off my head or other parts she’s grown particularly fond of.”

“She’d be right.” Tor had already had a report from Murdoch, his captain and henchman, but he would hear his brother’s explanation before deciding his fate. “Give me one good reason why I should not put you in irons and toss you into the dungeon right now. You knew exactly what kind of trouble this marriage could bring down upon all our heads and still you defied me.” He took a step closer, clenching his fists at his side, his fury rising. Torquil might find this amusing, but what he’d done could have jeopardized years of struggle and forced them into war. “How could you do something so damned foolish? So damned irresponsible? Do you have any idea what I had to agree to, to prevent Nicolson from attacking?”