Written In Stone

finger.
    "Bettina?" Muredach finally found his voice. He grasped her by the shoulders and set her back. "Let me look at ye, lass." Muredach couldn't believe what happened to the wee lass he'd wed.
    She had grown taller and her head now reached his breastbone. She had also filled out, the budding breasts she'd had were now full and the bodice of her gown displayed them nicely. Her waist was small and her hips softly rounded. Dark hair hung past her waist in a wild tangle of curls, while green eyes glittered with laughter, accented by long, dark lashes, and thinly arched brows. Her lips were full, pouty, and looked ready for a kiss at any moment.
    Muredach couldn't believe she'd grown into such a lovely woman, even though she had been a beautiful child. She was more than beautiful now, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Ye've grown into a beauty, lass," he said quietly.
    "Thank ye, Muredach," Bettina said, blushing.
    What am I going to do with her now ? He came home expecting to find the girl he thought of as a sister, but this woman wasn't his sister. She was his wife, and he felt a thrill skitter through his body. She was his wife, he had certain rights, and she couldn't refuse him. He inhaled deeply.
    "Oh, bloody hell," he said. "I need a bath." He stalked out of the dining hall.
    "Try a cold one," Fergus called after him, and Muredach could hear his father's laughter all the way up the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen
A Woman’s Place
     
    Bettina sat in the garden, working on one of the tapestries from the wall of the great room. The intricate needlework required very fine stitches and Bettina now had a headache from the eyestrain. She ran the needle through the fabric, pushed it back, and pricked her finger. "Oh, bloody hell," she muttered and sucked the drop of blood into her mouth.
    Muredach had just rounded the corner and burst into laughter when he heard her curse. "I think me brothers have been teachin' ye more than the sword."
    "Muredach!" Bettina grinned at him. "I've pricked me finger with the damned needle."
    "Ye best watch yer words, lass. My lady mother will take the soap to yer mouth!"
    "She blames ye anyway. She's says ye were a bad influence when first I came to be yer wife."
    "Did she?" He grinned. Bettina continued to tell him about learning the household from Maud and the sword from his brothers. Muredach heard little of it as he watched her. She had grown into the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and now her eighteenth birthday was less than a fortnight away, he was having more than brotherly thoughts about her. In fact, he'd not had a decent night's sleep since his homecoming, laying awake at night thinking about her, or waking up from dreaming about her. He'd sworn not to touch her, but she was no young lass of thirteen anymore. She was a grown woman and she was his wife. He inhaled sharply, watching the way her breasts rose and fell as she talked and gestured with her one free hand.
    "Ye seem to have enjoyed livin' here, lass," he finally said.
    "Oh, aye. 'Tis my home, Muredach. I love yer parents and brothers as if they were mine own."
    "They are yers, lass."
    "And you, Muredach? Are ye mine as well?"
    "What?"
    "When I was a wee lass ye wouldna touch me. I'm no longer a wee lass, Muredach. I am yer wife, remember?"
    "Aye, I remember. How could I forget?" He ran a hand through his hair.
    "I…" she began.
    Muredach rose suddenly. "Forgive me, lass, but I just remembered I need to, er, do something in the stables." He hurried off, leaving Bettina staring after him.
    ~ * ~
    "Maud, what is wrong with me?" Bettina entered the solar where her mother-in-law was having tea.
    "Whatever do ye mean?"
    "Is there something wrong with the way I look? Am I not the kinda woman a man would want to tup?
    Maud gasped, then chuckled. "Oh, dear. Ye are very lovely to look upon, and I imagine any man would want ye dear, for any number of reasons."
    "Then why does Muredach not desire me the way a husband should desire his wife?"
    "Sit and have some tea, dear." Maud picked up the teapot and poured a cup. "My son swore not to touch ye when ye were such a wee lass, because he was afraid of hurting ye. He being such a braw lad, and ye being so wee, and so young, he turned his mind to thinking of ye as he might a sister. Now that ye've grown, he does not know what to think of ye."
    "I want him to think o' me as his wife." Bettina sighed into her cup.
    "Do ye now? Ye are in love with him, truly?"
    "Oh, aye.