The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

refreshments, I see. As soon as ye’ve settled in our rooms, we’ll send for a tray. At least some broth and bread, aye? Ye’ll fall ill if ye dinna eat.”

With a knowing smile, Gretna returned to stand beside Catriona. “He has this well in hand,” she observed.

“Aye. I do.” Magnus held Brenna closer, his chin jutting to a defiant tilt. “Did ye expect anything less?”

“Please dinna make a fuss,” Brenna said, wishing the floor would swallow her up. She knew she should have at least managed a bit of bread, but her nervous worries wouldn’t allow it. And something else Magnus had just said set loose even more fretting. “Ye said our rooms?”

“Aye.”

“But we’re nay wed yet.” She waited for the import of her words to sink in. He had to remember she had sworn they wouldn’t share a bed until they married. What would people think?

Understanding lit in his eyes. “The suite will be ours once we have wed. My quarters, the rooms I always use whenever I’m here at Tor Ruadh, are in the south tower next to it.” He smiled. “We are separated by a proper hallway and staircase that I am sure the servants will watch and update all in the clan regarding any sneaking about. When we unloaded the horses, I had them place my things there.”

“Am I so easily read?”

“It’s nay that I read ye easily, mo chridhe.” He turned her so he might cup her cheek in his hand. “It’s that I know how ye deserve to be treated.” He paused, his gaze locked with hers and charged with so much emotion, she felt pulled into his inner storm. “Ye awakened my heart, dear one, and I mean to awaken yers.”

He brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth, then lifted his head and smiled after a glance at the doorway. “It appears Catriona and Gretna have left us alone. A true welcoming kiss is in order.”

Before Brenna could argue, she found herself swept away and rendered dizzier and more weak-kneed than any drink had ever made her. The heat of him, his urgency and longing vibrated with a heartbeat all its own. Saints have mercy on her soul. If his kisses had such an effect, what would happen when she allowed him so much more?

Chapter Nine

“Tell me, mo chridhe…what do ye think of life here at Tor Ruadh?” She seemed happy enough, but Magnus needed to hear her say it. Learn her thoughts. Her hopes. Any remaining fears. Then he could hone his plan and coax her into completing their commitment and becoming his wife. Last night, while staring out into the darkness, he had worked out all he would say, but he needed more information to be sure.

All plotting left him as sunlight lit her face, making her even lovelier. The bright summer’s day lent a golden glow to the heavy braid she had pinned into a tight bun. Her full lips shone juicy as ripe berries.

Heaven help him, he wanted her. For all time. He needed this precious woman more than he had ever needed anyone or anything before. His determination, armed with all his planning, made a valiant surge through the beguilement of her beauty. If he expected to win her completely, he best keep his head about him.

“Well, lass?” he gently prodded.

Brenna rested her hands on the top rail of the paddock fence, her gaze following the meanderings of a tiny bird hopping across the packed dirt, scratching and pecking for bugs. “Tor Ruadh is verra nice,” she finally said. She stole a glance at him and paired it with a faint smile. “Catriona, Gretna, and Mercy are by far the kindest, most generous women I have ever been blessed to meet.”

“Then why do I sense an unspoken except at the end of yer sentence?” He loved the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she struggled to find the right words.

After a dismissive shrug, she added, “’Tis early yet. Folks could still change and show their true selves.” Her eyes tightened into a squint as though the sun blinded her. “I have experienced such before.”

“If anyone changes, I’ll have their head on a platter, ye ken?” And then a stinging worry reared its ugly head. One he didn’t wish to acknowledge. But he had learned early in life that fear could only be overcome if faced head-on. “Is it me, then, that gives ye pause?” He braced himself, hoping it wasn’t true. “I willna change toward ye, lass.” Well, that was a lie. His feelings for her changed with every rising of the sun. “Nay, I spoke in error. I do change. I care more for ye with each passing day and will do so until I’m lowered into the grave. Tell me the truth. Ye dinna wish yerself free of our promise?”

She faced him and took hold of both his hands. Her loving smile cast the weight of his worries away. “Nay, mo ghràdh. I dinna wish my freedom. Far from it, I assure ye.” The slightest frown puckered her fair brow. “It’s just that so much has happened so verra quickly. I need a little more time to know I am truly fit and ready to be yer wife. A wee bit more of yer patience is all I ask. Can ye manage that for me?”

“Aye, m’love.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “For ye—I can manage anything.” She smelled as sweet as warmed honey and tasted even better.

“Master Magnus! Master Magnus!”

With an irritated groan, Magnus ended the delicious kiss and lifted his head to seek the breathless cry.

A young maidservant holding a cloth-covered platter above her head kicked at the cluster of hens blocking her every step. “Shoo, I tell ye! This isna for ye.” She plowed through them, but the persistent birds stayed with her, their indignant clucks and flapping wings interrupting the peacefulness of the courtyard. “Get on wi’ ye now!” she cried. “I fed ye