Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (13 page)

Daniel nodded solemnly. The MacPhersons had been threatening war for the past days if the cattle they accused the MacLaurins of stealing was not returned. “Laird MacPherson is as stubborn as an ox. I’ve told him many times that he is accusing the wrong clan of this deed, yet still he disbelieves me. Christ’s Bones! I’ve even given him proof that it could not have been any of our clansmen, but his mind is set and there is no bending it.”

“Well, if ‘tis war he’s set upon, he’ll find us not so easy to overcome. For ours is the most secure and well-built fortress in all the Highlands,” Murray replied.

“Aye, I’ve no worries on that score. And I’ve sent extra men with my father-in-law to escort him past all danger of ambush. The MacPhersons are well known for their stealth and they might attack our visitors out of spite.”

Anxious to get back to his bride, Daniel scanned the dais. She was not there. Worried that she might be speaking with one of his clansmen, he searched the hall. He’d deliberately not introduced her to the men who’d met with him at the high table earlier for fear that they would let slip the troubles the clan was having with their neighbors. There was no reason to distress his bride over a situation that he hoped to resolve without bloodshed.

At last, his eyes settled on her. She looked troubled—and
she was leaving.
Daniel’s brows slammed together. With a hurried excuse to his lieutenant, he rushed to follow. Unfortunately, he was frustrated in his attempt to reach her, as he was stopped repeatedly on his way to the entry by his clansmen, each wanting to either congratulate him or question him about the MacPhersons.

*

Maryn yanked open the heavy door to the keep and a gust of bitter cold wind crashed against her, reminding her she had no cloak. ‘Twas, she assumed, with her other belongings in the laird’s chamber, wherever that may be. She dared not take the time to search out that room, so, a mad dash to the stables, ‘twould be. ‘Twould not be the first time she’d kept warm with a horse blanket, and no doubt ‘twould not be the last.

As Maryn approached the stable, she heard the unmistakable, all-too familiar sound of Fia’s snorts and whinnies, followed by a sharp splintering sound as hoof met wood.
Oh, my. She’ll wreck the stall if I don’t get her calmed down in time.
Maryn hastened her step into a near run and flew through the doorway toward her mare, calling out to her at the same time, “Fia, I’m here! All is well!”

The marshal rushed up to her, cap in hand, “Blessed be, m’lady. I’ve done all I know to do to calm this lovely beast,—”

Maryn began to croon low and reached out her hand toward the shifting and restless mare, nodding and casting a quick eye to the marshal.

“—but still she balks. She’s a beauty and I worry she’ll cause herself harm if you cannot ease her.”

“All will be well, Marshal, but ‘tis best for you and your stablemen to leave me here with her. She will take longer to ease with strangers about, I trow.”

Already the mare had calmed enough to allow Maryn to stroke her face, but the tension still reflected in her quivering muscular neck and shoulders made plain that she was not yet completely soothed.

Maryn continued to croon to Fia for the next moments, and in that time, as Fia settled, so too, did Maryn. The harried departure from her home, the continuous fretting, the forced marriage to an almost-stranger, the burden of her guilt and remorse, all weighed upon her in the still and quiet of the stable and seemed, all at once, too heavy to bear. She began to weep. Though she was more than a little sure that ‘twas the fatigue that made her so fragile, still she allowed herself the release. For release it was. ‘Twas not long before the spent tears and bone-weariness made her eyelids droop and her head nod. Overcome by the need to rest awhile—just a moment or two, she promised herself—she moved inside the stall next to Fia and curled up in the corner with a horse blanket wrapped around herself. Before her cheek met the new straw, before her eyes closed, before she could even manage a soft goodnight to Fia, she fell into the blissful, black, warm cocooning void of unconscious sleep.

*

Daniel rushed upstairs, hoping to find his bride in their bedchamber. She was not there. He trotted back down and stood in the entryway. It was then that he felt the bitter draft. Had she left the keep? Alarmed, as she wore no cloak, Daniel rushed outside. Standing on the steps, he looked in all directions but found the courtyard empty. Where would she have gone?

Mayhap the chapel to light a candle and say a prayer? He headed there first.

But the chapel was empty as well.

Where else should he look for her? The distant whinny of a horse reminded him of her attachment to her mare and he struck out in the direction of the stables. “Maryn!” he called as he neared the animal’s stall. Silence. She was not in here, either, it seemed. Stymied once more, Daniel leaned against the stall door and stared blankly into the distance. Mayhap she was in another of the bedchambers in the keep.

Just as he was turning to leave, the mare stepped to the side and he at last caught sight of his bride. Curled in a tight ball under a horse blanket in the back corner, she was fast asleep. Even from this distance, he could hear her teeth chattering from the cold.

Daniel squeezed past the snorting mare and gently lifted his bride into his arms. She weighed so little, surely not much more than his mail armor.

“
Laird Giant,
” she mumbled, snuggling further into the warmth.

Daniel smiled. ‘Twas the amusing epithet she’d given to him when she was but a bairn.

A violent tremor passed through her and his smile dropped into a frown of concern.

“C-c-cold!” she whimpered.

Bundling her more closely against his chest, he rushed back to the keep. After taking the stairs two at a time to the upper chambers, he called to a passing servant to fetch warmed wine as quickly as possible.

When he got Maryn into their bedchamber, he placed her in the chair by the fire and stoked the embers to bring the flames up higher. While he prepared the blaze, the maid brought in the drink and set it on the table next to the chair.

“Should I help m’lady remove her gown, Laird?”

“That will not be necessary, Guilda.”

With a nod and a quick, concerned look at her mistress, the maid departed.

Once the fire was at a level to Daniel’s satisfaction, he returned to the chair and lifted Maryn into his arms. Settling her on his lap, he held her close, trying to absorb as much of the cold as he was able.

After a short time, he lifted the cup of warmed wine to his bride’s lips. “Here, Maryn, drink this down. ‘Twill warm you.”

She did not awaken.

Sighing, Daniel placed the cup back on the table. ‘Twas clear she’d been weeping, for her cheeks were streaked with dried tears and her dark lashes were spiked with them. He wondered again what had upset her so. His lips thinned. If one of his clansmen was fool enough to let slip to her the MacPherson’s threat of attack, he’d sentence the man to nine months hard labor.

Once her shivers subsided, he rose with her still in his arms and walked to the bed. With care, he placed her on the woolen covering before bending to the task of unlacing the ties at her side that held her gown in place. He drew the heavy velvet down and away from her in slow increments, until, finally, only her sheer undergarment remained.

Daniel’s blood pulsed, his gaze riveted. Jutting against the fine material of her chemise, two rosy peaks teased. His cock lengthened, grew heavy as he imagined weighing those sweetly-curving mounds in his hands, feeling the texture of their tightened crests against his tongue.

As if she’d read his lust-filled thoughts, his bride rolled to her side, covering her breasts with her arm.

Clamping his eyes shut, Daniel gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn away.
Arrghh!
He must surely be the lowest base-born lecher for even contemplating doing such things to his virginal bride while she so soundly, so innocently, slumbered. He’d promised his father-in-law that he’d treat her gently, and he would do no less. ‘Twas clear to him now that she was exhausted from all the events of the past days, else surely she would have awakened as he carried her, or spoke to the maid, or undressed her—especially as he undressed her. But, she had not, and that could only mean that she was in desperate need of rest, not further exercise.

He sighed. ‘Twould be many long hours of waiting for tomorrow night, when they would at last consummate their union. He turned and gazed upon her sleeping form once more. But for this night he would at least have the pleasure of holding her in his arms.

Quickly undressing down to his braies, Daniel lay down next to his lovely bride and rolled onto his side. With an arm around her middle, he pressed her against him, holding her close. She fit so perfectly there, as if they were two sides of the same coin. On the cusp of that thought, she wriggled in her sleep, nudging his still turgid arousal. Daniel sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth as cold sweat formed on his skin. With a groan of delighted agony, he buried his face in the silken mass of dark bronze tresses and breathed deeply of its fragrance. Wild honeysuckle.

Carnal visions ran through his mind as he held her. Of cupping her full breasts in his hands, causing their rosy peaks to stiffen as he teased them with his fingertips through the thin material of her chemise. Of pleasuring that other peak between her thighs in the same way until he felt the dampness, the proof of her own desire for him, seeping through the warm silk. What would her face, her form, reveal when she gained her utmost pleasure for the first time? His manhood jerked against her buttocks and a groan erupted from his throat.

Blood of Christ! It took the effort of a saint, but he managed to roll to his other side and leave her be. He must turn his mind to other matters or he’d be forced to take a swim in the cold loch. So, he began a mental list of all his warriors. In alphabetical order. Backwards.

It took several hours, but at last he succumbed to sleep. And dreamed of slingshots, honeysuckle, and warm, willing woman.

*

Maryn awoke late the next morn. Disoriented, she searched the chamber for clues to where she was and how she’d come to be there. As she wakened more fully, she began piecing together the events of the previous eve. She’d gone to the stables to calm her troubled mare. After soothing her pet, she’d succumbed to her own fears and worries and allowed the tears to flow unchecked until exhaustion had overtaken her and she’d fallen asleep in the stall with Fia. She’d had a dream about being a bairn caught in an ice storm and a red-haired giant had saved her.

Hmmm. A red-haired giant….

Daniel must have brought her here.
After
finding her asleep under a smelly horse blanket. Heat shot into her cheeks. He must truly think her daft now. Groaning, she tossed the woolen bed covering over her head.

After another moment of wallowing in the depths of humiliation, she slid the covering from her face and scanned the room once more.
So, this is the laird’s bedchamber.
Her gaze landed on the hearth. The tiles beneath it were beautifully made and there was a large chair made of dark wood positioned just outside of them. A flash-memory of warmth, of comfort, as if arms enfolded her, made her spring up in alarm. Her horrified gaze flew to the pillow next to hers and her stomach did an instant flip-flop. There, dead center, a head-shaped indention marred its plane.
He
must have slept in the same bed with her!

A cold draft chilled her skin and she made a grab for the woolen bed covering, but her hand froze mid-flight. She dropped her gaze to her torso.
Ohmygod.
She wore only her chemise. Her very
transparent
chemise. The one her mother had worn on her own wedding night. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. She had forgotten she’d put the thing on prior to the ceremony. It had been put away in a chest as part of her trousseau and she thought it fitting that she wear it for her own new husband.

On the cusp of that thought, came another, more troubling one: Had he bedded her while she
slumbered?

Nay, surely not. She had none of the soreness that her maid—who’d been given the information by their cook—had said she would feel after the first time. Maryn anxiously studied the bed linens. There was no blood, either. She breathed a great sigh of relief, convinced that naught more than slumber had occurred in this bed the night before.

Maryn rose at last and strolled to the window. The sun was high in the sky. It must be quite late in the morn. Her stomach growled. And she was famished. Thinking this would be a good time to acquaint herself with the kitchen staff, she began her morning ablutions.

She had just finished dressing and braiding her hair when Daniel opened the door and strolled inside. Maryn turned at the sound and, seeing her husband, became inordinately shy. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Good morn to you, husband.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel smiled at her. “Good morn, Maryn. By the youthful bloom on your cheeks, I surmise you must have slept well. Did you?”

She nodded. “Aye, quite well.” Nervously clearing her throat, she continued, “And you as well?”

“Aye. Tho’ I’m sure I shall sleep even more soundly this eve,” he said obliquely as he moved to stand directly in front of her. Then he lifted her chin with the curve of his fingers and kissed her. Softly, gently at first. Only taking light sips, as if her lips held some sweet nectar he craved.