Page 22 of The Highlander’s Untamed Lady

Evander stood and looked out over the sad mess of dark earth and errant weeds. “Aye, a few farmers grow them in Ireland and have found success there with similar circumstances. They grow under the ground where the earth is warmer. The potato is made of a white flesh that softens when boiled. It’s quite good and verra hearty. I know a man who will be selling me the seeds, and I have a farmer willing to take on the risk of growing them. We will have food.”

“How have I—” She looked away. “I afforded you the funds to purchase the seeds with my dowry,” she surmised.

“Aye, ye did. I couldna use the money from yer original dowry to buy seeds when my people were starving. They needed food.” He took her shoulders in his hands and met her beautiful blue eyes. “When yer da doubled the price to come get ye, I knew it would provide me with the opportunity to obtain the seeds. The food I buy this season will last this season. The potatoes I grow will last a lifetime. We’ll no’ ever go hungry again.”

Before she could give voice to the anger glinting in her eyes, he continued. “I’m telling ye this for two reasons – the first is that I want ye to understand I dinna want to steal ye from England. That’s no’ how I wanted to obtain a wife. I wanted to get to know ye, to let ye choose me, for ye to come willingly here. Diana, I dinna have a choice. I only hoped that once ye came here, ye’d fall in love with the people as I do, and ye’d love the land. And some day ye might love me.”

The ire in her gaze softened.

His hands trailed down her arms to find her hands, warm beneath the thick cloak and mantle. “I know ye see yerself as abducted, as forced into this. I know it dinna start well. But I see ye as the savior to our people. I see ye as my wife. And I dinna think there ever could be so beautiful a woman to me in the entire world as ye.”

He released her hands and gently cradled her face. Her cheeks were cold under his fingertips, and her eyes sparkled with something deep and far more open than anything he’d seen from her yet.

She glanced down at his mouth and his heartbeat kicked. No. Not yet.

“Was that the second thing?” she whispered.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Aye, but I have more. There will be a feast tonight, and I would be honored to have ye at my side.” His voice was deep with desire. God, he wanted her so bad. For as much as he denied her, he denied himself too.

She put her warm hands over his, holding them in place. “When will the seeds arrive?” She leaned closer into him and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Evander’s pulse rushed in his ears, but he pulled his hands from her face, disallowing himself lest he want too badly what was not ready to be given. “As soon as I can pay for it, and one of my scouts informed me the coin yer father promised will arrive sometime tomorrow.”

The food had gone first, even though there’d been plenty of it. Far more than Diana had seen since her arrival at Castle Leod, as if it had all been stored away for such an occasion. Ale flowed freely and the Mackenzie clan was quickly becoming drunk.

Diana was on her third glass of wine, a private stock held by Evander.

Evander.

The man was a curious one. She put the cup to her lips in preparation to drink and paused, reveling in the cool press of metal to her skin. He spoke to Camden, who sat on his other side, his eyes crinkling with delight. She liked it when he smiled. It was genuine and good-natured. She made him smile thus, and every time she did, a warm flutter of victory tickled inside her stomach.

The marriage had been unwanted on her part, of course. But speaking with Evander in the field earlier made her realize it hadn’t worked out as he’d wanted either. He had anticipated his own wedding day with a woman who wanted to wed him, one he’d selected based on love and consideration.

Despite their circumstances, he had been unendingly patient with her and tender.

Evander turned from Camden and those deep green eyes, burdened with an emotion he never seemed to fully conceal, found hers. Her heart leapt at the immediate connection.

“Are ye enjoying yerself?” Evander asked.

Diana nodded, for she had been enjoying herself very much. The music, the tales spun by a wandering bard, the food, the wine. The company. “It’s all been wondrous, but I confess I’m growing tired. I hoped you might…” Her blood roared in her ears so loudly, she could barely think to say the words aloud. “I hoped you might be willing to see me to my room.”

Evander studied her a long moment before gracing her with a smile. “Anything for my lovely wife.”

He’d scraped the whiskers from his face for the feast and his chin appeared silky smooth, his lips full and vulnerably bare without the frame of dark hair surrounding it. He’d done the same when they’d wed. When he’d kissed her.

An eager warmth spread through her body with more efficiency than the wine. Evander rose first and held his hand for her to join him. Diana swallowed and stood. Agnes had done beautiful work to the gown, restoring the beadwork and adding extra fabric at the hem to replace what had been tattered over the years. She’d even altered the gown to accommodate Diana’s frame. No longer did the dress hang on her as it had before. Now it hugged her body.

Evander put his hand gently to her lower back. The whole world melted away except for the simple pressure of his hot touch against her. A slow, steady pounding of warmth hummed between her legs at the place she swore no man would ever touch again.

Because this was so very different. Evander was so very different.

Several cheers bellowed at their early departure, a couple of them in Gaelic, which she was only beginning to learn, but a couple in English for her to understand their bawdiness. Evander turned to their audience and handled their jeers with the same ease he had through the past few weeks, with a smile and an easy, deflecting joke. Never once alluding to her inability to perform her wifely duties, or suggesting her faults.

Together they made their way into the empty hall where the path to her room dragged on for longer than ever before. The heat between her legs increased as she walked, as if the friction of her fast pace intensified it. She ran her tongue over her lips, teasing the newfound sensitivity there. She wanted her husband’s hands on her face, his mouth on hers, his fingers skimming over the tightly fitted dress.

Finally, after a lifetime of a walk through the castle, they arrived at her door. She spun toward him, almost bumping into his chest, awkward in her eagerness. “Will you see me inside?”

He was so close, the delicate spicy scent of him prickled her awareness and made her almost moan with want of his kiss. Her gaze slid to his lips, pink from the chilled air, but she knew them to be warm. And soft.