Stealing the Bride. Mary Wine

that poured into the mug. She switched to the second mug and smiled as her nose filled with the scent of the ale. It was yeasty and tart and it drew a low rumble from her belly. Supper had been served while she was out riding the hills. That wasn’t unusual, at least not in the fact that it often happened that she was riding when the meal was placed on the tables. The fact that she was allowed to ride so freely was the unusual part. It was a freedom that Dunmore granted her, and it was a truth that most brothers were not so kind.

      “Why did ye invite the clans to bride negotiations if ye are nae in the mood to wed? As laird ye could easily avoid the matter.”

      She handed one of the mugs to him and placed her own on the front of the hearth. Moving back to the work table, she flipped cloths back to see what they covered. A broken round of bread gained approval and another plate yielded some soft goat’s milk cheese. Hayden didn’t answer her until she returned to the fireside with the food. A smile parted his lips, rewarding her for bringing along the food. She’d done the same for countless men, every day that she could recall, but her hand trembled slightly tonight. She hurried to place the plate on the stones of the hearth so that he wouldn’t see it shaking. It knocked against the hard surface and she turned to look at her ale mug to conceal her nervousness.

      It was ridiculous to be so unsteady.

      Yet she was.

      “So why did you leave them? Most men like the dowry more than the wife.”

      He took a sip from his mug, making her wait even longer for an answer from him. She suddenly understood why he was as powerful as rumor told. This was a man who danced to no one’s tune. He listened first, making sure that when he spoke, his words were the last ones that were heard. That sort of self-control she admired.

      Would he be that way in bed? Patient and slow?

      The blush returned to her cheeks and Hayden’s attention settled on the spreading stain.

      “If I were that sort of man, I’d be there and nay here. I prefer it here.”

      With her. That was a compliment. One that sent a quiver through her. A low rumble from her belly broke the tension of the moment. Hayden snorted and sat his mug aside.

      “I’ve spent too many nights nursing a mug of ale.” He picked up one of the rounds of bread and broke it. “Supping with a pretty lass is far better.”

      A ghost of a memory drifted across his face but he banished it quickly. Still, Elspeth found it heartwarming to see that he held tender feelings for his family.

      He might come to care for her ...

      She was placing the cart in front of the horse. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him and seeking out things that pleased her. His beard made it hard to see his features and she decided that it made him look far older than his years. His body was large and his shoulders coated in thick, hard muscle. She actually felt small sitting so near him.

      “Common fare but I think it better than anything I ever sampled at court.” He held out a portion of the bread that he’d slathered thickly with cheese.

      “Ye’re flattering me now.” Elspeth took the bread but Hayden slipped his hand along hers and stroked the tender skin on the inside of her wrist while she held her arm so near him. She jumped and the bread went slipping out of her grasp.

      Hayden caught it before the cheese-covered side touched the floor. He moved too quickly. She shivered because he was calmly sitting there to gain her trust. She pushed against the floor, intending to scoot back, away from his imposing presence. It was pure instinct to move and had nothing to do with thinking, only with the fact that she was suddenly keenly aware of how easy it might be for him to take what he wanted from her. There was a quiver in the pit of her belly that demanded action. So instead she stood.

      Hayden was on his feet before her skirt finished settling. The bread was gone and her breath froze in her throat.

      “I am flattering ye, lass. That’s a part of getting to know ye.”

      He reached out and cupped her chin once more. The feeling of his skin against her own was too delightful to step away from. His eyes darkened almost dangerously.

      “And I am wanting to know more of ye.” Something flickered in his eyes, a flame that was near as bright as the one in the hearth. “I’m wanting to know what ye taste like.”

      His grip tightened just a bit as he leaned forward to kiss her. The kiss was neither hard, nor soft, but a tasting one as his lips slipped across hers in a delicate motion that sent pleasure through her. It wasn’t her first kiss, but it felt more intense, deeper than the others, and maybe the knowledge that she might take him to her bed was making her body more receptive to his touch.

      Handfasting ... it was time-honored ... and there would be no need to resist the desire beginning to lick across her skin. She could simply surrender.

      Her eyes widened. Surrender was exactly what everyone wanted of her and she would not give it to them so simply.

      “I do nae like yer beard.”

      He frowned and stroked his chin full of whiskers. “Many men have beards, lass.”

      “Well, I do nae like it against my face.”