Highlander's Prize (38 page)

Spirit was respected in the Highlands…

She forced herself to begin moving, trying to enjoy the harp’s happy melody. The Earl of Sutherland stood to greet her.

“Welcome, Clarrisa of the York family. I’m right proud to see ye arriving to become me son’s wife.”

She lowered herself, biting her lip to keep her gaze from straying to Broen. She could feel him watching her—only him, really, because everyone else was nothing but a sea of strange faces. The single empty chair at the high table was pulled back for her.

A cheer went up the moment she sat down. Norris reached over and covered her hand with his. Another cheer went through the hall before the feast began.

Since the harvest was beginning, there was an abundance of food. Vegetables and fruits were carried past on large platters. Freshly baked bread and cakes. There were the first of the squashes and plenty of greens along with berries and apples. But when a silver bowl with rare pomegranates was set in front of her and Norris, she was sure the color drained from her face.

Pomegranates were an aphrodisiac, an expensive one because they had to be brought from afar by ship. Lytge Sutherland laughed at her expression and reached for one of the ruby fruits himself. He broke it in two, revealing the plump seeds inside.

“Yer bride needs a bit of encouragement, Son,” he announced to the delight of his guests.

“Which is something I’ll no’ be needing help doing,” Norris declared.

His fellow lairds chuckled, raising their goblets before draining them. Every laird had his captain at his back to safeguard him from poison while the feast progressed.

A roasted pig went by to be placed on a table and carved. There was lamb and beef too. All of it made its way on to her plate. Asgree guarded her meal like a hawk, taking away what she picked at and returning with fresh selections to tempt her. Once the meal was well under way, the younger girls took to the aisles to begin dancing. They rose onto their toes and lifted their skirts to show off rapid motions of foot and ankle. All the while, the harps and pipes helped them keep time. More toasts were raised, and the candles burned down while the Sutherland people celebrated.

When Asgree finally tapped her on the shoulder, she was startled because she hadn’t realized how late it was growing.
Because
you
don’t want to notice…

She stood up, and a cheer went through the crowd. A good number of them wore intoxicated grins now.

“Hurry now…” Asgree muttered. “Before the men have time to cause trouble.”

“What manner of trouble?” Clarrisa asked once they’d reached the hallways.

Two of the women walking with them laughed. They were not young girls but women of experience, obviously selected to inspect her once she was stripped and ready to be put to bed to ensure she was not deformed.

“Highlanders enjoy a healthy sense of humor. They’d enjoy making Norris retrieve ye from them.”

“But he’s their laird’s son.”

“Aye,” one of the women said. “But if he cannae outwit them, he’s no’ fit to lead them.”

They all laughed, enjoying the moment. Once back inside the chamber they quickly disrobed her. Clarrisa fought the urge to cover herself with her hands.

“Come now, into bed with ye before the men show up and see more than they should.”

Asgree clapped her hands, and the women all stopped staring at her bare form. They helped cover her with the sheets while sending each other knowing smiles. The scent of rosemary filled her senses a moment before the door burst open. Lytge was leaning on his son, clearly besotted.

“There she is, Son! A royal-blooded bride for ye. The Lindsey may be crowing about how their chief was made a duke by the late king, but David Lindsey does nae have a royal-blooded bride! All he has is a title he’ll no’ pass on to his son if he ever has one.”

Norris eyed her, something in his eyes sending a tingle down her back. It wasn’t apprehension, but suspicion. His father’s retainers gained his attention when they began to pull his kilt off.

“Enough, lads… I’ll see to the matter meself.”

He might as well have saved his breath, for the men paid him no mind. His father found another set of shoulders to loop his arm over and laughed at his son trying to keep his dignity.

Norris lost; every last article of clothing was stripped from him. His father’s men winked at her before they quit the room, singing loudly in the hallway on their way down the stairs.

“The least ye might do is no’ enjoy me humiliation, lass,” Norris admonished her. He surprised her by reaching for his shirt and shrugging into it.

“Would you prefer to find me weeping?”

One of his fair eyebrows rose. “I expect it. After all, I’m a barbarian Highlander.”

“Who worries about his modesty,” she muttered demurely before laughing softly. There was nothing remotely near worry on his face; the man was completely at home in his skin. But her hands tightened on the bedding, rejection filling her thoughts. What she knew she had to do didn’t seem able to slice through what she didn’t want to do.

He frowned at her. “Ye mock me, madam.” He pulled the shirt off and let it flutter to the floor. She looked away, gaining a soft chuckle from him.

“Be careful when ye challenge a Highlander, lass.”

The bed dipped, and a chill raced across her skin. She couldn’t bear it. Yet she must.

“Now here’s the second time I’ve caught ye in bed with a woman who belongs to me without a stitch on, Norris.”

Clarrisa jumped and shrieked when Norris rolled right over her. He came up in back of her, draping a strong arm across her body as she stared across the chamber at Broen.

“By rights, this one is contracted to me,” Norris announced as he nuzzled her neck.

“But her heart belongs to me,” Broen muttered softly. “Get out of her bed.”

It was an insane thing to say but she couldn’t help smiling.

Norris groaned but rolled back over the top of her and landed on his feet. She sat up, trying to decide what to demand first.

“What… what is happening—”

Norris cupped the back of her head and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. She sputtered, abandoning her grip on the sheet to push him away. He suddenly flew back, but it was because Broen had hooked his shoulder and yanked him away from her.

Norris laughed at her. “Ye wound me with that look, Clarrisa. No’ a single lass has ever complained about me kisses.”

She opened her mouth to change that fact but was distracted by Broen. He stood there, close enough to touch, and she realized she couldn’t stand not taking the opportunity to feel him against her. She made to rise, but he sat on the bed and pulled her close before she made it onto her knees.

It was perfection, a single moment that fed every longing she’d had since they’d been torn apart. Her hands roamed over him, stroking all the places she recalled.

“Well, I’ll just see myself out…” Norris groused.

“That was the understanding,” Broen muttered against her neck. He raised his head and looked toward Norris.

“What do you mean… understanding?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper because she feared she was dreaming and might wake any moment to discover Broen a figment of her imagination.

Norris sobered, his expression becoming serious. “An agreement between friends—and make no mistake, lass, I do nae call many men me friend.”

“But it means ye will be shouldering the burden of being called a disobedient daughter, Clarrisa.” Broen was forcing his words through clenched teeth. He set her back by her biceps, his expression hard. “It’s yer choice. Ye can stay with Norris if ye desire, but to leave him, he’ll need to have a reason to renounce ye.”

A smile split her lips, joy filling her so full, there was no way to contain it, but she suddenly froze. “What of Daphne?” she forced out at last.

“She made sure I could renounce her,” Broen muttered. “By lying with Norris and making sure both his men and mine witnessed the evidence of her lost virtue.”

Norris yanked on one of his boots and snorted. “Ye have a way with women, Broen. One I do nae envy.”

“Ye took advantage of it sure enough,” Broen accused his friend.

Norris shrugged and stood now that his boots were on. He paused for a moment to buckle a pleated kilt around his waist. His staff knew their duties well, for the wool had already been laid out on a table near the door.

“I did,” he answered. “And I’ll no’ apologize either. Ye are nae the only man who finds himself pulled to a woman when he is nae expecting it.” He turned and left. Clarrisa stared at the chamber door, too shocked to speak.

“I’ll go if ye like, Clarrisa.” Broen was forcing his words past gritted teeth once more. “But I wanted ye to know I love ye enough to try and regain ye. Daphne gave herself to Norris so I could renounce her. I’d never have allowed her to do such a thing—”

“I didn’t think you would.” There was too much honor in him. He shook his head, refusing to allow her to make excuses for him.

“I wanted to steal ye away again, but Norris was correct. Stealing ye will nae end this. The prince would only insist I return ye to yer kin.”

“So he’s offering to let me make the same choice Daphne did.”

His pride was wounded, and she could see him straining against the walls closing him in. The prince: her kin and his lord. She suddenly laughed, so relieved tears streamed down her cheeks. She kicked the bedding aside and stood, no longer feeling exposed, because Broen was the man she wanted to share herself with.

“Don’t hate it. I can see in your eyes how much you detest doing this.”

He snarled something in Gaelic and stood, pulling her against him with one hard arm.

“Ye reduce me to allowing another man to help me when what I want most is to take ye away because I cannae face the future without ye.” His tone was thick with emotion, the arm binding her to him quivering. Or maybe it was her body quivering, perhaps both.

“I can bear anything if it means being with you, Broen.” He shook his head, but she cupped the sides of his face to stop him. “Do not, for neither of us can hate the circumstances of how we have come together, not if we truly love each other.”

He slowly nodded. “Because to hate our beginning is to say we would prefer never to have met. Aye, lass, I cannae say such a thing, for ye’re the other half of me.” He gently stroked her cheek, looking at her as though he’d longed for her as deeply as she had for him. “But ye are going to marry me, Clarrisa of the York family, just as soon as yer marriage to Norris is annulled due to lack of consummation.”

A wicked gleam entered his eyes as he uttered the word “consummation.”

“Well now, my fine Highlander, that will leave us time to be lovers before we must become serious about our duties as man and wife.”

“Beginning now, lass…”

He kissed her at last, and it felt as though she’d been waiting for that touch of his lips for an eternity. She slid her hands into his hair, wanting to bind him in place and assure herself that he was real. He was. His heart beat strong enough for her to feel it as the scent of his skin filled her senses. Every detail she’d struggled to hold in her memory was there for her to experience anew. It was perfect.

It was love.

***

Norris poured himself a goblet of French wine but frowned when its rich aroma filled his senses. None of the enjoyment he normally experienced came with the first sip. He set the goblet aside, trying to decide what was irritating him. Everything had proceeded as planned, yet no sense of satisfaction was arriving to allow him to slip into slumber as a happy man.

He lay back in his bed and felt cold. Frustration was nipping at him like a rash—one that needed scratching for relief, but after you gave into the urge, pain was your reward. Daphne’s face rose from his memory, sending another round of frustration through him. His cock hardened and his mood darkened further.

Why
had
she
been
so
relieved
to
leave
him?
That was what tore at him. The way she’d so easily left his bed after spending the night with him. She’d been pleasured, well and good, and still she’d walked away without so much as a longing look over her shoulder.

He was the heir to the earldom of Sutherland and a Highlander… what did she have to turn her nose up at? Norris stared into the darkness and realized he wanted to know.

A true Highlander went after what he wanted.

Mary Wine is a multipublished author in romantic suspense, fantasy, and Western romance. Now her interest in historical reenactment and costuming has inspired her to turn her pen to historical romance. She lives with her husband and sons in Southern California, where the whole family enjoys participating in historical reenactment.