Page 94 of When a Laird Takes a Lady
“Aye,” he acknowledged. “But what of de Lourdes’s talk of a new lover? Of his higher calling to serve justice?”
Isabail sighed. “The man jumped to his death. He was not of right mind. And we’ve chased down every other clue. Ana’s traveling merchant bought the necklace from a man matching Daniel’s description near Lochurkie last November.”
“And what of the man I spied the night of the poisonings?”
“We’ve spoken to all five of my guests at Lochurkie that night, and none are a match to the man you saw in the corridor leading to the kitchens.”
“Someone else must have been there. Someone we’ve forgotten.”
Isabail slid her soapy hands up his arms, admiring the ropy sinews that cradled her with such tenderness. “I am as vexed as you that we’ve no proof to offer the king of your innocence. But, in time, the truth will come to light. Have faith.”
He gently squeezed her breasts, sending a wave of sweet longing through her body. Her head rolled back, giving him access to the sensitive cords of her neck—and he obliged by lowering his hot mouth to her damp skin. “For the moment, I’m willing to put aside the hunt,” he murmured. “MacPherson is gone, my people are back in their homes, and my boot steps once again echo through the passageways of Dunstoras. Thanks to the new lady of the keep.”
Isabail pressed her rump against the rigid length of her husband and gave a little wiggle. “I am, of course, pleased that the king awarded me this lovely keep,” she said, closing her eyes and imagining him sinking deep inside her. “But I welcome the day when we can publicly announce our wedding and you can take your rightful place as laird.”
He nibbled his way up the side of her neck.
“So long as we are together and the name you whisper in the throes of passion is mine, I am content.” He slipped a hand under her knees, and with one powerful push, stood up in the tub. Water splashed and dripped. Stepping over the edge and leaving a wet trail of footprints on the floor, Aiden carried her to the huge platform bed. “For now.”
As he lowered her to the sheets and then slid his wet body along hers, Isabail smiled.
He was not truly content—he was merely biding his time. Aiden MacCurran was a Highland chief, full of pride, courage, and raw determination. He would not rest until he cleared his name and redeemed the honor of his clan. Which was fine with her.
But tonight, they would forget all that... for a moment or two.
“Well, my dearest husband,” she said throatily. “All this talk of passion and contentment has piqued my curiosity. Perhaps you want to show me what truly happens when a laird takes a lady.”
