Part 11 (1/2)
”Oh, Abby,” he whispered, closing his mouth over hers.
She was trembling. He hoped it was from pa.s.sion and not fear. He knew it couldn't be from the cold. He was hotter than if he'd been standing in the midst of a pile of kindling.
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He kissed and caressed her until both their breaths were coming in gasps. Then Abigail tore her mouth from his.
”Did you hear something?”
”Nay,” he said, trying to recapture her mouth.
”It's a thumping noise, Miles.”
”That's the blood pounding in your ears. 'Tis pa.s.sion, Abby.”
She eluded his lips. ”Those are fists pounding on your gates, bucko. It isn't pa.s.sion, it's company.”
Miles lifted his head and frowned. ”d.a.m.n.”
Abigail froze. ”Bad guys?”
Miles looked down at her grimly. ”Knocking? Doubtful, my love. Enemies generally prefer a sneak attack.”
”Then who could it be?” she asked, reaching for her tunic.
”My b.l.o.o.d.y sire, most likely.” Why Rhys had chosen this precise mo-ment for a visit . . . Miles growled. ”I'm going to kill him for the inter-ruption.”
Her smile started in her eyes. ”I really like you a lot.”
He kissed her again, for good measure, then tore himself away and rose. He donned his tunic and waited while Abigail did the same.
”We may as well go let him in,” he grumbled. ”He'll pound all day if we don't.”
”What are you going to tell him about me?” she asked. She looked very worried.
He shrugged. ”We'll tell them you're from Michigan.”
”Don't I have to be some kind of royalty to marry you?” she asked. She was starting to wheeze again.
Miles gathered her close. ”As I'm hardly royalty myself, nay, you needn't be. But we can make you such, if you like.” He pulled back and grinned at her. ”What shall you be? Princess of Freezing Bluff?”
”I don't know why you think this is so funny,” she said, her teeth chattering.
Miles laughed and kissed her. ” 'Tis merely my sire, Abby. He will love you because you are you. We'll tell him you're from Michigan, which is a very long way away, and that you have no family nearby. You were out, 75 lost your way, and wound up at my hall. That's truth enough for the mo-ment. We'll worry about the rest later.”
”If you say so.”
”Trust me. Now, let's go let the irritating old man in.”
He hadn't taken ten steps when the front door burst open and not only his father, but his father and all four of his brothers burst into the hall, swords drawn, looking for all the world as if they'd expected a battle.
Rhys pulled up short and gaped. Robin, Nicholas, Montgomery, and John all did the same, piling up behind their father and almost sending him sprawling. Once the armored group of five regained their collective balance, a hush descended.
”So, 'tis as the abbot said,” Robin whispered, in disbelief. ”He did find a wench daft enough to wed him.”
Rhys silenced his eldest son with an elbow to the ribs, then looked at Miles a.s.sessingly.
”I a.s.sumed I would come and find you overrun by ruffians, since you sent back your guardsmen.”
”Nay, I am well,” Miles said, fighting his smile.
Rhys nodded. ”I can see why you wanted the hall to yourself.”
”Aye,” Miles agreed, ”I daresay you can.”
”Saints, she's fetching,” Montgomery and John said together.
Miles scowled. His younger brothers were twins, and randy ones at that. He put an arm possessively around his wife.
”Aye, she is,” he growled. ”And she wed me”
”Poor girl,” Robin said, with a regretful shake of his head. ”Mont-gomery, go fetch Mother and the girls so they can offer Miles's bride some well-needed comfort. I've no doubt she's had a very trying day.”
Miles growled at Robin. His eldest brother sent a nasty grin back his way. Miles turned his attention back to his sire. He watched his father chew on the facts for a moment or two and come to a decision. Rhys resheathed his sword and crossed the hall. He took Abigail's hand and raised it to his lips.
”Well met, daughter,” he said, with a gentle smile. ”My son smiles,
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so I must a.s.sume you have made him do so. Now, how does he sit with you? Tolerably well?”
”Oh,” Abigail said faintly. ”I think he's wonderful.”
Miles beamed at his father. ”She has excellent taste, Papa, don't you think?”
Rhys laughed. ”Saints, Miles, here I thought I would find you shut up in this pile of stones like a hermit, and now I find I've interrupted the post-nuptial festivities.”
”Aye,” Miles said, remembering why he'd been irritated with his sire. ”You timing is, as usual, very poor.”
He would have said quite a bit more, but he didn't have the chance, for his mother, sisters, sister-in-law, and numerous nieces and nephews had entered the hall, along with the abbot, several people who weren't family but thought they were, and an army of servants. Miles groaned. Where was he going to put all these souls? And where was he going to find privacy with Abigail?
”Peachy,” he muttered to Abigail, then threw his father a very dis-gruntled look. He received a wink and a hearty laugh in return. Miles scowled and turned to watch his mother come toward him. He had the feeling, much to his further disgruntlement, that once the introductions were made, it would be the last he would see of his wife for quite some time.
ABBY STAGGERED UNDER the onslaught of people. Once Miles's mother had entered the room, chaos erupted. If her beauty hadn't been enough to do it, the way she herded the men into work parties certainly would have. She was followed by at least two dozen people who were dressed very nicely, and at least a dozen who Abby surmised must be servants. Miles's mother came to her immediately.
”I'm Gwen,” she said, ”and I can see why Miles kept you a secret, for he would have been fighting his brothers to have you.”