Written In Stone

I've been in love with him since the night of our wedding."
    "Well, then ye hafta be actin' like a wife to him."
    "I doona know how."
    "Sit closer, dear. I know something that will work and if it does not, then my son is addled."
    ~ * ~
    Muredach stayed away from the castle all day. He rode his horse to some of the outlying areas to check on the people living on the lands, to see how they fared. His clan had taken care of the crofters since the beginning. They were hard-working people and kept the land producing enough for all to eat, all year long. He spent time speaking with the men about the crops, the coming winter, and their families. Then he rode into town to check on some supplies he'd ordered. Business concluded, Muredach had nothing else to do to keep him away from the castle, so he went to the river for a swim. Anything to try to get his mind off Bettina and the way she looked at him that afternoon.
    No longer a wee lass, indeed! He could see that very well. She needn't point it out as if he were blind. Oh, no, he was not blind. Definitely not blind. He had been watching her since he'd gotten home, sneaking around so she wouldn't know, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her. It was making keeping his hands off her all the more difficult, but he just couldn't stay away from her completely. He couldn't get the thought that she was his wife out of his mind if he tried, and he had tried. He wanted to think of her as a wee lass, that little bit of a girl, the child that had been brought to him to wife. But try as he might, the image of that little girl faded into the image of the woman she was now, and that's who he saw every time he thought of her. He ached for her, dreamed of her, and woke up drenched in sweat because of her. Now, she was bringing it to his attention that she was his wife.
    She couldn't possibly know what she was saying, couldn't possibly know what she was asking of him. As much as he wanted her, as much as he needed her, he knew he couldn't take her the way he wanted to. She couldn't know the need she ignited within him, the desire he felt every time he looked upon her. She was like throwing oil on a fire she ignited him so. There was nothing he could do to quench the heat within him, and he'd tried.
    His hand was a sad replacement for the wet heat he knew her body held, but even the slight, temporary relief his hand brought wasn't enough to slake his need of her. He didn't know how much longer he could live in the same household with her before ravishing her like a heathen. He knew he would not be able to hold out forever, no matter how strong his will. He could not continue seeing her day after day and not touch her. The desire to take her into his arms, seal his mouth over hers, and consume her, was overwhelming. He swore loudly, deciding he would have to leave again. MacKenzie was always in need of men, and he could rejoin the regiment. Spend the rest of his life somewhere else, even if it meant being at sea, leaning over the railing, puking his guts up.
    "Oh, bloody hell," he sighed.
    Why did she have to be so innocent? She had been living with his family, as much a member of it as he himself. His parents doted on her as they would if she was their own flesh and blood daughter. His brothers thought on her as a sister, but she was his wife, and a woman grown at that. He knew if he kept up this line of thinking, he would talk himself into going straight to her chamber, locking the door behind him, and not giving her a choice. He'd exercise his rights as her husband. Damn it! How did his brothers stand being around her all of the time without…
    Thinking of his brothers, had they noticed how beautiful Bettina was now? How full her breasts? How sensuous her mouth? How rounded her behind had become? Did they see the beauty of her face, her soul? Did they lust after her? Was that the reason they taught her to fight and ride? Did they keep her in the lists under the guise of teaching her so they could be close to her? Perhaps touch her arm? Her shoulder? Brush innocently against her full bosom? Muredach shook his head. How could they not notice? Had one of them touched her? Kissed her? Had one of them been waiting for his return to see if he would want her, hoping he wouldn't? If one of them had so much as… he caught his dark thought before it could fully form and squashed it with a loud sigh.
    "Yer talking like an addlepate," he said aloud.
    "What?" Crinan asked as Muredach entered the