Highland Lover (37 page)

Why had she never mentioned that she had a dowry so large it was absolutely astounding that there

was not a man behind every tree and shrub ready to leap out and grab her and force her to marry

him? Men snatched brides with far less for a dowry. No one would believe that he had married

Alana for anything else but the lure of her fortune. Seeking a bride with a dowry the size of Mavis’s would have been seen by most people as the act of a smart man. Taking a bride with a dowry the

size of Alana’s made him look greedy.

The hard truth was that she was far too good for him in all ways. She deserved so much better. For a

woman like Alana to marry a man like him was much akin to a princess marrying a blacksmith.

Now, just when he finally held her firmly in his grasp, he knew he had to let her go. That was the

truly honorable thing to do.

Even though Gregor knew he had already had far too much ale to drink, he lifted his tankard to his

lips and had another long draught. He had begun to drink from the moment Artan and Lucas had

left him reeling from the news of all Alana was bringing to the marriage, and it was not helping him

to overcome that shock. In truth, it was making him feel morose, and he hated morose drunks.

When he lowered his tankard, Gregor found himself staring at Alana’s breasts. They were covered

with a very fine linen, so fine he could see her nipples. He really liked Alana’s breasts, he thought and sighed. He blinked and suddenly a thick blanket was pulled over that intoxicating view. Slowly

Gregor looked up from Alana’s chest and found himself staring into her golden brown eyes. She

was glaring at him. Now, he thought, he would face all the anger she had kept hidden, anger over

the fact that her brothers had forced her to marry a peasant.

“Mayhap ye can explain to me why ye are sitting here, all alone and swilling ale on our wedding

night.”

The cold, precise tone in her voice made him wince. “There cannae be a wedding night.”

Alana wondered just how much he had drunk. Considering how long it had been since he had left

the great hall with her brothers, Gregor could have swallowed a prodigious amount of ale by now.

“Oh, I see,” she said, unable to hide her keen disappointment. “I have heard that too much drink can

soften—”

“Soften?” Gregor grabbed her hand and placed it upon the erection he had not been able to fully

shake free of since the kiss they had shared in the garden. “Nay, I am not soft. I could never drink

enough ale to suffer like that.”

She ignored that boast. “Then why do ye say there can be no wedding night?”

“Because ye are too fine a bride for a mon like me. Your brothers had a wee talk with me about

your dowry, as is right and proper. What they told me near knocked me down. Why didnae ye tell

me ye are as rich as a prince?”

Her eyes widened at the note of accusation in his voice. “I didnae tell ye because there was ne’er

any indication that ye might be interested. In me as a wife, I mean. When the mon is courting a lass

and hinting at a marriage is usually the time the talk of a dowry takes place.”

That was true, but he liked the idea of feeling the injured party more than he did just sitting there feeling sorry for himself. “Ye should have told me. ’Twas a bit of a shock, ye ken. If I had learned

about it earlier, we ne’er would have been married. Now, weel, we shall just have to leave it

unconsummated until I can think of a way to cut ye loose. Ye deserve a better mon than me, a mon

with naught but a few fine clothes and a good horse and a family that isnae the most respected in the land. Wheesht, most people think my father is a madmon. E’en we did until but a while ago.” He

shook his head and felt a little dizzy. “Nay, I cannae think what rattles in your brothers’ heads that they would think me a fit husband for ye.”

Setting down his tankard, he stood up very carefully and went over to the washbowl to douse his

head with the cold water there. He had suddenly realized that he was far too drunk to have this

conversation. Since this was his wedding night, he could not tell her to go away and that they would

talk about it all on the morrow when his head was clear. Alana was owed an explanation for why

she was alone in the bedchamber that had been chosen for them.

His body did not even soften when he let the cold water run down inside his shirt. The very last

thing he wanted to do was leave her alone tonight, or any night ever again. She obviously wore a

night rail designed to seduce a man, and smelled sweetly of roses and clean skin. He ached to taste

that soft skin again. Instead of easing, his desire for her grew even fiercer and he cursed as he

grabbed a soft drying cloth and scrubbed his face dry. He did not feel dazed by drink any longer,

but by need.

Wrong though it was, he would have to tell her to leave and that they would talk in the morning. If

she did not move out of his reach soon, he would weaken and take her into his arms. There would

be no turning back then, no doing the honorable thing and setting her free so that she could find

herself a husband to make her proud. He tossed aside the cloth, looked at her, and frowned. She had

her arms crossed over her chest and he could see one bare little foot tapping on the floor. Even

worse, she was wearing an expression that was part amusement and part that look that women gave

men when they thought they were behaving like complete idiots.

“Gregor, I do not believe, in this situation, leaving the marriage unconsummated will make any

difference at all.”

Her tone was that patient, sweet one some women used when trying to explain something to a small

child, and it set his teeth on edge. “A marriage can be set aside if it isnae consummated, although I shall have to find out exactly how one does that.”

“Did ye forget that I am nay longer a virgin? That I am, in fact, carrying your child?”

For a moment he just stared at her as the last of the ale fumes cleared from his head. He was an idiot.

He had forgotten those very important things for a little while. Shock had pushed everything from

his mind except for the fact that she was too rich a bride for a man like him. Too much ale had

assured that his wits had stayed scattered. Gregor wondered if he could bluff his way out of this

embarrassment. He prayed she was not one of those women who insisted a man openly admit that

he was being a complete fool.

“Lass,” he began, struggling to find the right words, “ye dinnae need a mon like me e’en if I was

your lover and ye carry my child. With a dowry like yours, ye could still have any mon ye wanted,

and I think ye ken it. Why, if your father e’en hinted at what would come with ye as a dowry, the

men would be lining up at the gates e’en if ye had a dozen fatherless children clinging to your

skirts.” The mere thought of never seeing the child they had created, of having some other man

raise that child, cut him to the bone, but he still felt he was doing what was best for her.

Alana studied him for a moment. There was a look of misery in his face, and so she discarded the

painful thought that he was just trying to be rid of her. He really thought that she was now too good for him because of the size of her dowry. It was time, she thought, to stop guarding her heart, to

stop holding fast to all the words she had wanted to say to him for weeks. He would not accept logic

in this, so she would have to sway him with feelings.

“But my child willnae be fatherless, will he? He has a father, a verra fine mon who makes his

mother’s blood heat with a smile.”

He felt his manhood twitch. The thing was leaning out toward her like some hound on a scent. A

simple, if very flattering compliment, and he was acting like a heedless boy facing his first lover. A flicker of laughter passed over her face and he scowled at her, almost daring her to say something.

And it was not just a smile he wanted to use to make her blood heat, he thought, and inwardly

groaned.

“Did ye not woo Mavis for her dowry?” she asked. “Ye said ye sought her out because ye had heard

of it. Why would ye think it acceptable to go after hers and yet shy away from taking mine?”

“Because next to yours, hers is a pittance, but a pittance that was good enough to live on and was

suitable for a mon like me.”

“Gregor, do ye think my sister brought naught to her marriage to Liam? Aye, she handed o’er to me

a goodly part of her dowry because Ardgleann would be hers and ’tis a rich place. Do ye fault Liam

for accepting it?”

A logical woman could be a curse, he mused. He had not only let shock and then ale scatter his

wits; he had lost them completely. There really was no way he could make all he had been thinking

sound sensible, probably not even sane. Gregor suspected he was going to have to admit that he had

been, for a little while and under the influence of strong drink, a complete idiot, and he hoped he

could find the right words to soften the blow to his pride, at least in her eyes.

“I was in shock,” he admitted. “Deeply in shock. All I could see was that ye were a verra rich

woman, one who would never had been within my reach except that fate put ye in the same

oubliette as I was. I thought the whole world would think that all I married ye for was that massive

dowry, and I couldnae stomach that.”

“Ah, pride.” She stepped closer to him and slowly put her arms around his neck.

“Aye, I was worried about my own wee monly pride, but I also didnae want the world and its

mother to think that that was the only reason I had married ye, that that was the only way ye could

get a husband.”

His ability to think clearly began to slip away fast as she brushed soft, quick kisses over his face and neck. His whole body shook with need for her. And, he thought, since the marriage really could not

be annulled, why was he hesitating?

“’Tis most kind of ye to be so concerned with my pride that ye would set me aside e’en though ye

want me.” She began to unlace his shirt. “And ye do want me, dinnae ye, Gregor?”

Grasping her by the hips, he pressed her close to his throbbing erection. “How can ye e’en need to

ask, love? Aye, I need ye like a fish needs the water to live. I need ye to face each morning with

hope and an eagerness to keep on living.” He slid his hand over her still-flat belly. “I need ye to

give me bonnie wee lasses with thick hair and golden brown eyes. Aye, I need ye, and ’tis sorry I

am that I e’er left ye in doubt of that.”

Alana was so moved by his words that she could only stare at him, the sting of tears in her eyes.

This was the most he had said about his feelings since they had met, and she was shaken by the

fierce tone of truth behind each word. He had not said he loved her, but now that lack did not sting

as much. When a man could speak so to a woman, surely he was in love or very near to it.

“I think we shall forget my plan to annul the marriage,” he growled and picked her up in his arms.

“What about our verra fine marriage bed?” she asked as she curled her arms around his neck to

steady herself as he carried her to the bed.

“We can move to it later.”

Alana opened her eyes and blinked, uncertain of where she was. Then she felt Gregor move and

heard Charlemagne jump off the bed and smiled. Now she remembered. After making love in his

bedchamber, they had hurried down the hall to the bridal chamber to make love again. Wild, greedy,

frenzied love, she thought with a smile as she felt Gregor kiss the back of her neck.

“I have been waiting for ye to wake up,” he murmured as he gently nudged her onto her back.

Gregor brushed a kiss over her lips and slid his hand down to her belly. He was eager to feel the

child they had made move inside her. He loved his two sons and would never think of them as

somehow less than this child, but the fact that he had created this one with the woman he loved and

not just because he had been careless did make it all different in some strange, unfathomable way.

Instinct told him that he did not need to worry that Alana would ignore his bastard sons for her own

child, either. He lightly kissed her belly.

“Are ye feeling weel?” he asked. “I ken that we behaved a wee bit, er, wildly and I shouldnae want

to hurt ye or our bairn.”

“Nay, ye cannae hurt the bairn that way,” she murmured as she ran her hands over his back. “I

dinnae ken much about this save for some very simple goods and bads and how to birth it, but all

we lasses are told that lovemaking cannae hurt the bairn.”

“That is a relief, for I intend to do a lot of it.”

She sighed her pleasure as he kissed his way to her breasts. Threading her fingers in his thick hair, she held him close as he kissed and suckled her. She badly wished to speak more about their future

and their feelings for each other, but she was a coward. However, she had the strongest feeling that, if she did not push just a little now, the chance would be gone, that Gregor would settle in and think all was well. If that happened, she could face months, even years without knowing what he truly felt

for her.

“I have missed ye in my bed, my sweet treasure,” he said against her stomach as he slipped his

fingers between her thighs to tease her passion to a greater height. “I had feared that, in my idiocy, I had lost ye, had killed all we had shared just when I had realized how much it meant to me.”

Wondering a little wildly if he had read her thoughts in some way and had decided to take the first

step, Alana tensed. Even though she desperately wanted to hear all he had to say, the desire he was