Despite Ewan’s intention to spare a moment to speak with Mairin—he wasn’t entirely sure about what—the day passed in a blur of activity. He’d thought to gauge her mood and offer reassurance that Duncan Cameron’s men had been dispatched. Aye, she’d feel better and more secure, and she damn sure wouldn’t doubt his ability to protect her or his keep any longer.
An incident with his men prevented Ewan from dining with Mairin, and by the time he trudged up the stairs to his chamber, he was tired, but at least he was clean after a dip in the loch.
He nudged the door open to see that she was already abed, her soft, even breathing signaling her slumber. He started forward, intent on waking her, when h saw that once again, Crispen was snuggled against her. He sighed. Tomorrow he would make it a point to tell her that Crispen was to sleep in his own chambers across the hall.
He never got the chance to make his point. From the moment Mairin awoke, he never seemed to gain the opportunity to speak with her. Toward afternoon, he grew impatient and issued a direct summons for her to appear before him.
When it went unanswered, he sent Cormac to fetch her, since Diormid was guarding her. Cormac returned with the news that Mairin was visiting the cottages of the other women and would speak to her laird later.
Ewan scowled, and Cormac seemed uncomfortable telling his laird that his bride had refused him.
Clearly they were going to have to discuss matters far more important than where his son slept. Namely, the idea that she had the right to refuse a direct order from Ewan.
He made it a point to eat dinner with Mairin that evening. She looked tired and nervous. Her gaze kept darting toward him when she thought he wasn’t looking, as though she feared him lunging across the table and hauling her to his chamber.
He sighed. He supposed it wasn’t an unreasonable fear given what had occurred on their wedding day. Some of his irritation fell away. The lass was skittish. It was up to him to allay her fears and soothe her worries.
Protection was something he could readily offer. His loyalty to the woman he called wife would be unwavering. She’d never want for anything he could provide as long as he lived. Those were things that the warrior in him readily embraced. But things like tenderness and understanding? Sweet words meant to soothe away worries? The mere idea appalled him beyond measure.
His thoughts must have been expressed on his face because Mairin sent him a startled look and then she immediately rose and excused herself from the table. Without waiting for his permission to leave, she murmured something to Crispen. The lad stuffed his mouth full of food and hastily shoved away from the table. He took her hand and they left the hall in the direction of the stairs.
Ewan’s eyes narrowed as he realized just what it was she was doing. She was purposely taking Crispen into their bed in an effort to avoid Ewan. If he weren’t so annoyed, he might have been impressed by her craftiness.
He himself pushed away from the table and rose with a nod to Caelen. He’d rather go off to war than go up those stairs and face a situation with his new wife that he had no inkling of how to resolve.
A good start would be to issue a stern lecture on obeying his orders. After that, he would simply command her to cease being so skittish around him.
Feeling confident about his plan of action, he went up to his chamber and opened the door. Mairin whipped around, surprise written in her eyes.
“Is there something you need, Laird?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Can I not retire to my own chamber?”
She flushed and gathered ng pen to her skirts. “Aye, of course. You don’t usually come to bed so early. That is, I hadn’t expected you to …”
She trailed off, her blush deepening. She pressed her lips firmly together as if refusing to say another word.
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “I hadn’t realized you were so familiar with my sleep habits, lass.”
Her blush disappeared and she glared her displeasure.
Determined to set her straight on several issues, he crooked his finger at Crispen, and when he grudgingly separated himself from Mairin and approached his father, Ewan put his hands on Crispen’s shoulders.
“Tonight you’ll sleep in your own chamber.”
When Mairin would have protested, he silenced her with a stern look. Crispen also wanted to argue, but he was too disciplined for that. Most of the time.
“Aye, Papa. May I kiss Mama good night?”
Ewan smiled. “Of course.”
Crispen hurried back over to Mairin and allowed her to sweep him into a hug. She kissed the top of his head and then squeezed him tight. Crispen returned and stood solemnly in front of Ewan.
“Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, son.”
Ewan waited until his son had left the room before turning back to Mairin. Her chin went up and defiance sparked in her eyes. She was preparing for battle. The thought amused him but he smothered the smile that threatened. It was God’s truth, he’d smiled more since her arrival than he had in his life.
“When I issue you a summons, I expect you to heed it,” he said. “I expect—nay, I demand—obedience. I won’t accept defiance from you.”
Her mouth took on a pinched look. At first he thought he’d frightened her again, but on second look, he saw she was furious.
“Even when your demands are ridiculous?” she asked with a sniff.
He raised an eyebrow at that. “My asking you to present yourself to me is ridiculous? I had matters to discuss with you. My time is valuable.”
She opened her mouth and then promptly shut it again. But she muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch.
“Now that we have that matter resolved, while I appreciate your devotion to my son, he has his own chamber that he shares with other children of the keep.”
“He should sleep with his mother and father,” she blurted.
“Aye, there will be times when that is indeed the case,” Ewan agreed. “But right after our marriage is not one of them.”
“I fail to see what being newly married has to do with it,” she muttered.
He sighed and tried to rein in his impatience. The lass was going to be the death of him.
“ ’Tis hard to bed my wife if my son is sharing the bed with us,” he drawled.
She looked away and twisted her hands in front of her. “If ’tis all the same to you, I’d rather not have you … bed me.”
“And how do you plan to become pregnant, lass?”