Taming a Highland Devil Read Free

mistresses to his solar.” Her demeanor seemed to soften with this statement. The wrinkles at her eyes smoothed. Her brow became less furrowed. “Not every woman enjoys her conjugal duties.”
    The direction of their conversation soured his stomach twofold. For one, he no longer wished to hear the grim tales of his sire’s marriage bed, and for another, he refused to take a wife who didn’t enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. He crossed his solar and kissed Mam’s forehead, feeling a great deal more sympathy for her than he ever had before.
    “Dinnae look at me like I’m a leper. Think ye there is another reason men and women of nobility retain separate sleeping quarters?” She crossed her arms, refusing his compassion. “I’m not alone in my thinking.”
    “’Tis enough. Ye’ve spoken your peace.” He guided her toward the door. “I’ll heed your advice as I make my decision.”
    “Verra well,” Mam conceded with an audible exhale. “Sleep well, son.”
    Once he was free of Mam and her opinions, he sent for the younger Mackay and nursed a goblet of gooseberry wine while he awaited her arrival. He considered himself a good judge of character, especially when it came to women, but he wasn’t choosing a maid for the evening. He was choosing a mate for life.
    Of course, he wanted someone to share his bed with ardent enthusiasm, but he also wanted his wife to possess other qualities—intelligence, tolerance, devotion. S’truth, he wanted a woman who could help him carry the burdens his brothers had left him. Not that his blood kin were burdens, there were just so damned many of them. Unfortunately, the legitimate bairns were all lasses. He wanted sons as much as Mam did, but he also wanted to be around long enough to watch them grow.
    Ian Mackay had already urged Magnus to schedule a meeting with the leaders of their warbands. The man was bloodthirsty and eager to avenge his father, but Magnus intended to avoid a war with Clan Ross at all costs.
    A knock at the door pulled him out of his musings.
    “Enter,” he commanded and set his goblet atop the side table.
    When Lady Vanna stepped inside his chamber and closed the door, his body responded to her beauty like a flame to a charred wick. She was stunning with silken black hair, lush lips and flawless skin, and he had nary a doubt the body hidden beneath her pale yellow robe would be tight and firm with her youth.
    His bollocks tingled with expectancy. His cock swelled to stone. He squirmed in the chair and wished he’d gratified himself while he’d awaited her audience. If the lass turned out to be a virgin, he’d already decided he wouldn’t take her maidenhood lest he marry her.
    “Ye sent for me, m’laird.” She reached for the ties binding her robe. “Would ye like me in the bed?”
    “Patience, little bit.” Magnus smiled and gestured toward the cushioned hassock in front of him. He welcomed her eagerness, but he would know her mind before he explored her body.
    She floated gracefully across his solar then settled atop a round footstool and crossed her hands atop her knees. Her fine-boned frame and long, slender neck added to the perfection of her pose. Everything about her demeanor was measured, practiced, refined, down to the arc in her wrists.
    He suspected she’d been taught submission, but the boldness of her gaze as she held his stare told him she resisted such obedience. Still and all, she held her tongue and awaited his instruction. ’Twas good she knew her place, yet didn’t fear him.
    “Tell me, Lady Vanna, do ye know your letters?”
    Her chin raised a half inch. “I’m well-read. I also have a mind for numbers. And I speak four different languages.”
    “Ye were schooled abroad?” He handed her a goblet of watered wine, hoping to loosen her rigid stance as well as her tongue.
    “Nay.” She didn’t elaborate, nor did she accept his offering.
    “Then your father hired tutors?”
    One of her eyes narrowed, be it ever so