The Groom Wore Plaid: Highland Weddings (31 page)

But he wasn’t a warrior knight—he was the chief of the Clan Duff and he had to rule his people with impartial justice—even though a cowardly worm like Gregor, who would shoot an innocent woman, didn’t deserve fairness.

But bringing the case against Gregor before the assembly
of gentlemen was the correct thing to do. It was his duty to keep the law for the clan, and his right to sentence a man for attempted murder, but even in his bloodlust, he wanted the fact to be undisputable. He wanted Gregor to confess.

And Gregor hadn’t. He’d been unable to name a witness who’d seen him within the castle before his shift in the smithy. And he hadn’t denied that he was against the uniting of the two clans. But he claimed he had not fired a musket at Maggie, that he’d never shoot a woman.

Owen wanted a confession, not a protestation of innocence, he thought, taking another swig of ale. He wanted to know that the right man paid for the crime. For years, he had watched his father hand out punishments with little care for the truth. He’d been a dictator, a man who believed in the superiority and power of his title, and thought everyone else beneath him. Owen had been determined to be different, to bring justice to his clan and display fairness.

Now he felt as if the need for revenge was eating away his humanity. He’d spent his adult life combating his emotions, dealing in logic and science because it made sense, inspired nothing but pride and wonder and satisfaction. It was disheartening to realize that underneath, he could feel bloodthirsty because of a threat to his mate, as if man had not advanced in
thousands of years, regardless of the ability to understand the planets or create new machines to aid mankind.

There was a knock on the door, and Owen turned his head. “Come in.”

Maggie entered, then leaned back against the closed door and regarded him warily. Such an expression actually disheartened him. Had he thought a threat to her life would make her confess her love and accept his protection? No, he knew her too well. She was independent, determined to have her own way even if it made no sense.

To his surprise, she hadn’t even dressed for the day, was still wearing her dressing gown. He forced his mind not to go to what lay just beneath, so close at hand. If he’d thought taking Maggie’s virginity would ease his obsession with her, he’d been completely wrong. He wanted her even more, and forcing himself to regard her dispassionately took great effort.

He arched a brow. “I thought after yesterday you would allow yourself to rest longer.”

She shook her head. “We need to have a discussion and it can’t wait.”

She approached him and stood at his side, staring out the window. He wanted to put his arm around her, but hesitated, then felt exasperated with himself. He slid his arm around her waist, and to his surprise, she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. Such
a small surrender from a woman like Maggie should have appeased him, but it didn’t.

“What is worrying you?” he asked quietly. “Gregor is confined. I promise he will never hurt you again. Is your arm sore?”

She shook her head almost impatiently. “’Twas barely a scratch. Nay, I am glad to know Gregor will pay for what he’s tried to do—not that I understand it, even now. But . . . that isn’t what I came here for. You need to know that I am with child.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that he almost didn’t understand the significance. And then he took her upper arms in his hands and stared into her face.

“With child?” he echoed, searching her eyes as if only seeing her emotions would have meaning. And then he realized a painful truth. “How can you know that? A woman has to miss her menses, and it’s only been days. Can you truly call yourself ‘late’ without waiting for a more appropriate length of time to pass?”

She sighed and shrugged off his hands. “Sometimes you exhaust me, Owen. Nay, I’ve not even missed my womanly time yet.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She put a hand on her stomach. “I dreamed of my advanced pregnancy come next spring. I know I will be having a child.”

She’d dreamed. Of course she’d dreamed, he thought. He knew better than to question her about it, whatever he felt. He wanted her as his wife; he wanted
a child—and if her belief made it happen, so much the better.

And then he could see their babe in her arms, and the surge of tenderness and love was daunting.

“Then we shall marry as quickly as possible,” he said, feeling not one bit guilty to use her beliefs to persuade her.

She watched him with suspicion. “’Twas that easy to convince ye I spoke the truth? Ye suddenly believe in my dreams?”

“What do you want me to say, Maggie? I like having the truth from you. I want no secrets between us.”

“And ye want us to marry, and this is the perfect excuse.”

“I don’t need an excuse to marry you, although it seems you do.”

She glanced away, a blush of guilt rising. “Aye, this pregnancy changes things for me. I won’t have our child a bastard, as ye said. And with Gregor now being held for the crime against me . . .’tis time to accept my fate.”

“Such a ringing, romantic endorsement of your own wedding,” he said dryly.

Her face only reddened more before she sighed. “I’m sorry, Owen. Nothing has ever been easy for us. How can ye expect me to proceed with joyous abandon? I’ve never had a dream that didn’t come true. I’m frightened for ye. But there’s a child coming, and I have to trust that I’ve been shown one path for ye, with the
chance to change it. I hope we have. I pray we have,” she added fervently.

He cupped her face with both hands. “I may not have said it before, but your concern for me moves me. Ye don’t care about my title or my lands—”

“Of course I do—they’re what will help bring peace to both our clans.”

He grimaced. “Ye know what I mean, lass. From the beginning of our betrothal, ye’ve been worried for me.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. He would marry this woman; she’d share his bed and his life. It was daunting and overwhelming and he couldn’t think about how he’d changed because of her. But he knew he wanted her. She carried their future within her. He leaned down and kissed her. She seemed stiff for a long moment, until with a low moan she sighed and leaned into him, sliding her arms about his waist.

C
HAPTER
19

I
nside her heart, Maggie knew she’d surrendered to her love of Owen weeks ago, and now she surrendered her very life to him. She would be his. If she’d hoped for an impassioned declaration of love, it had been within only a little corner of herself, a sad little corner that had to accept the fact that with an arranged marriage to a man like Owen, she had to take her blessings where she found them. She would never have a great love, but he wanted her, and she would learn to be content with that.

Because she wanted him, with a desperation that frightened her. She wanted the impossible—she wanted his love, she wanted a future with him, and she didn’t know if she could have those things.

But oh, when his kiss deepened into one of hunger, when he pulled her so close to his body that she could feel the pounding of his heart near to hers—she simply melted. Her flesh burned to experience the pleasure he’d given her just two days ago. She reveled in the feel
of his hands sliding down her back, cupping her backside, pulling her firmly against him. They kissed for a long, sweet moment, exploring and tasting. He would be her husband, the father of her child. He would have a powerful, important place in her life. She would just have to find a way to accept him for who he was, even if he couldn’t accept her the same way.

She shivered when he parted her dressing gown and it fell from her shoulders. He didn’t touch, just looked at the way the fabric skimmed her body. He lifted the nightshift over her head, leaving her bare to him in the morning light, then he put his hand on her flat belly and stared into her eyes. Was he looking for the truth? Or could he simply believe her? Her eyes misted as she prayed they would find happiness as parents.

And then he pulled off his own garments so quickly it made her smile.

“I like that smile,” he murmured. “It is all too rare.”

But her smile faded when she looked down his body, admiring the way his broad chest tapered into narrow hips. She let herself touch him, skimming her hands over smooth, hard muscles, brushing his nipples as he’d done to her. She could feel his flesh shiver as if her touch excited him. And that excited her. She let her caresses move lower, across the ridges of his stomach. As his breathing increased, she felt a powerful sense of wonder that she could affect him so. And then she clasped his erection in her hand and he shuddered. It was hard and thick and smooth, and she explored it with great interest.

“Though I’m enjoying this, lass, I won’t be able to stand it for long,” he said hoarsely. “Your touch is far too—”

Then he broke off with a gasp as she reached lower, to caress the round sacs below. He liked that, too, she realized. She would have a lifetime to learn everything about him.

She hoped. Oh, she hated that little voice of worry deep in her mind that wouldn’t leave her.

But she forgot all of that as Owen’s hands began to caress her at the same time, one hand lingered at her nipples, the other moving between her legs to slide along her newly moist flesh. As they touched each other, neither looked away, and it was incredibly moving to know unabashedly what they could make each other feel, to acknowledge, if only with their eyes, the power of their connection.

And then with a groan, Owen moved backward, pulling her with him as he sat upon the bed. He lifted her onto his lap to straddle him.

He leaned back on his elbows, his expression eager. “Guide me inside of you.”

This new position intrigued her, and though she felt awkward about how to accomplish it, she came up on her knees, took him into her hand, and slid him along the depth of her. It made her shudder, and when he suddenly took her hips in his big hands and pulled down, sheathing himself deep inside her, she gasped.

“Am I hurting ye?” he asked, his body frozen in place, but with a restrained sense of urgency as if he really wanted to be moving.

She shook her head, her awareness centered inward, on how good he felt filling her. “Can I move?”

“Please God, aye,” he ground out.

She braced her hands on his chest and leaned over to say, “I’ll conduct my own little experiment and ye can analyze the results.”

His chuckle was mixed with a groan as she lifted herself up a bit, then sank back. The friction felt so good she did it again, and soon she was enthusiastically riding him, striving to find what felt best. He caressed her breasts, and slid his fingers wickedly between her thighs, and soon she was panting, her head thrown back with exaltation as she found her ultimate pleasure. As if he’d been waiting just for her, Owen took her hips in his hands and arched to thrust himself inside her and join her in fulfillment.

Maggie collapsed forward to rest her head on his chest. She could hear the thundering of his heart gradually slow down, feeling a sense of peace steal over her as he ran his fingers gently through her hair.

“So you’re truly my betrothed now,” he murmured.

She nodded, and let her breath out on a long sigh. Silently, she sent forth another prayer that she was making the right decision, that in her selfish need to have her child legitimate, she wasn’t somehow sending Owen to his death.

Suddenly her world turned upside down as he rolled her onto her back. And then he was thrusting inside her again, a slow buildup into speed, and all she could do was go along for the ride and let him take her over the edge.

A
N
hour later, when Maggie called for Kathleen to help her dress, the maid arrived in a far more subdued manner than she’d ever shown before. Her complexion was pale, her eyes downcast, and Maggie experienced a pang of sadness and even guilt, though she’d done nothing wrong.

She put a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your brother.”

Kathleen nodded. “Thank ye, mistress.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Kathleen finally searched Maggie’s eyes as if looking for answers. At last she shook her head. “I cannot believe my brother guilty of this, but I’m content to know that the assembly will listen to his words. I will find witnesses for him.”

Maggie nodded, and when Kathleen began to unlace her gown, she debated asking about the charge of witchcraft that Gregor had made against a woman in the colonies. But what was Kathleen going to do—incriminate her brother? So Maggie said nothing.

Nine days sped by in a rush of business, from planning the wedding with Cat to working with Mrs. Robertson to learning the methods of the household. Now
that Maggie had accepted her role as mistress, she would not shirk it.

And it gave her a good reason to avoid Owen as much as she could. She was frightened of the power of her feelings for him, and felt vulnerable knowing he did not feel the same way. She couldn’t let herself openly love him, couldn’t give him that power over her. She knew that without being in love, someday he might grow bored with her, and she was afraid of how crushed she’d be to see him try to hide his disinterest. She stayed away from his bedroom, and asked the same of him. She wanted at least something of their wedding night to feel special, and if that was a renewal of exploring the pleasures of their bodies, then she would accept that.

When her family arrived the day before the ceremony, she felt some trepidation. But she’d warned her brother by letter what had been going on, so that he could provide a strong escort, and would be wary within the walls of Castle Kinlochard. Brendan; Hugh; his wife, Riona; and their mother arrived late in the evening. Maggie had a quiet supper sent to their dressing room and joined them for a talk.

Hugh ate with his usual hearty appetite, and Riona would have joined him, but she obviously saw the concerned looks Lady McCallum couldn’t hide.

Maggie ignored it all and talked with excitement about the food that would be served at the banquet afterward and the flowers she’d planned to decorate
the church with. Brendan fell asleep and Hugh carried him to his bedroom, and on his return gave Maggie a look. She was boring him to tears, she knew, but it was for the best. She was hoping Hugh hadn’t informed his wife about Gregor’s threats against Maggie.