The Highlander's Triumph (24 page)

Despite the possibility that English soldiers could attack, the men celebrated with great reverie that evening. They were going home for a much needed
reprieve, one of their leaders had been wed in a love match—not too heard of. And besides, as one of the guards pointed out, the English were so damn loud, they’d likely hear them clinking down the road in enough time to sober up, or at the very least, ambush the bastards.

Mariana’s face hurt, she’d
been smiling so much, nonstop. The men had done toast after toast, for a happy marriage, down to enough bawdy well-wishes, her face had also long since burnt to a crisp blush. Having imbibed in more than her share of wine and whisky, she needed to excuse.

“Brandon, I need a moment of privacy.”

He glanced up at her, merriment dancing around his eyes.

“I shall come with
ye.” He leapt to his feet and grasped her hand in his.

“I assure you, I’m in no need of assistance in this matter.”

“Ah, a moment to relieve yourself, why didna ye say so?” He leaned in close, his lips touching her ear. “I thought ye meant for me to follow…so I might kiss ye behind the tree.”

Mariana rolled her eyes, walked away, her hand slipping slowly from his.

“I’m still going to accompany ye. Dinna want any stray wanderers making off with my wife.”

His wife.
She loved the sound of that.

After making use of a private spot behind a bush, she exited the trees to see Brandon leaning his back against
and oak, his arms folded in front of him. His eyes were lowered, and she almost thought him to be asleep standing, until her smiled at her.

“We’re alone once more.”

She looked about her, noting the way the forest was trying for spring.

“That we are.”

“I like to be alone with ye.”

Mariana sauntered forward. Brandon opened his arms and she easily stepped into his embrace.

“I dinna think anyone will bother us for a time,” Brandon said seductively against her ear.

A tingle of awareness shot its way through her. “Are you certain?”

“Verra certain.” This time, he skimmed his teeth over her earlobe, and then pressed his lips to that sensitive spot below her ear.

“Then we’d best make use of the time,” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, aye.” Brandon drawled out his words as his mouth dragged over the length of her neck to her shoulder.

Every inch he touched, and every inch he didn’t, was suddenly hot, achy with need. Her nipples hardened, thighs quivered, and between them grew damp. Desire for him was potent, as it always was. Mariana didn’t think she’d ever get used to it, for with each kiss, each look he swung her
way, she shuddered all the more, as though it were the first time.

“Brandon,” she crooned, pulling his mouth to hers. She kissed him feverishly, hoping to show him how much she desired him, wanted him.

“Och, woman,” he growled, his hands skimming over her backside. He cupped her buttocks tight and tugged her against him, his hardened shaft pressing urgently against her middle.

Brandon tore his mouth away from hers, tugging at her gown until one nipple popped out. Must have been what he
wanted, as his hot, velvet mouth flattened irresistibly to her sensitive flesh. His tongue was ceaseless, glorious torture.

Mariana threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging him away only to push him back. Her hips surged forward to meet his, grinding incessantly, until her breaths came in gasps.

“Mmm,” she moaned.

“I canna stop, love, I canna.”
He lifted her into the air.

“Don’t.” She wrapped her legs around him, and with her good arm, yanked her skirts up around her hips.

“Oh, have mercy,” he murmured against her lips as his hands came into contact with her naked flesh.

“No mercy.” Mariana laughed seductively. “Take me, now.”

Brandon growled, fiddled with his plaid, and seconds later was plunging hotly up into her. They both cried out as their bodies connected, as the stress of the world melted away and the heat of their passion united.

“Don’t stop,” she demanded.
“Don’t ever stop.”

“Never.”
Brandon held her hips tight in his grasp, guiding her body as he drove in and out with fiery purpose.

She pressed a flurry of kisses over his face, before pulling his lower lip into her mouth with her teeth. Never had she made love with such urgency, such ferocity.

Driving his tongue into her mouth, laying claim to what she offered, Brandon twirled them in a circle and pressed her back up against a tree. One hand on her hip and the other bracing himself on the trunk, he continued to surge into her. Decadent sensations whipped through her, and both of their erotic cries sounded through the trees.

Without warning, Mariana’s muscles seized as a
potent release took hold, bursting from inside out in wave after delicious wave. Brandon’s pace increased, only heightening her pleasure. He called out her name, dropped his forehead into the crook of her neck and shuddered against her.

They stayed like that, motionless, connected, breathing in each other’s scents for what seemed like hours, until finally, Mariana said, “I think my legs are going numb.”

Brandon laughed, and pulled her away from the tree, setting her on her feet. He righted her gown and fixed his plaid. “Are ye up for another drink of wine?”

“And then maybe some more privacy…”

“Och, lass, ye’re a dream come true. Marriage to me suits ye,” he grinned lopsidedly, and winked.

Oui
, marriage to her Highlander suited her perfectly.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ten months later…

“M
y lady, ye must lie down. Rest.”

Mariana shook her head, glad for once her stubbornness could be put to good use.

There was no way on God’s green earth she was going to give birth to this child without her husband present.

“My lady, please. ’
Tis not safe.”

Mariana whirled around. “Not safe?” she said with a near hysterical laugh. “What is not
safe, is my husband’s life. He promised he would return when the time came.”

“Aye, but how was he to know ye’d be going to the childbed
a week early?”

Mariana just glowered, and stalked as much as a woman heavy with child and experiencing labor pains could, to the nearest window.

She threw back the shutters, and glared out at the moon and stars and their reflections in the water. Nearing midnight, she was still not tired. And she was definitely not getting into that bed until Brandon returned.

After getting married, they’d traveled
to Brandon’s home—Castle Girnigoe, so far north, Mariana swore they’d forever be frozen. However much she’d believed spring would never come, it finally did, in abundance, and flourish. The most beautiful place she’d ever seen.

Mariana was
welcomed to Girnigoe with open arms, and had immediately befriended his mother, becoming quite close, in fact. Beatrice was like a mother to her now and had been good company over the past several months that Brandon had been gone. As had Julianna, surprisingly. She’d apologized for her earlier suspicions. They had a lot on common recently, which helped in pushing them closer together. Both of their husbands were gone to war, and they were both with child. Julianna had probably already given birth to her babe.

W
ith the English having returned to Scottish soil, the Bruce had called the Sinclair warriors to arms. News came to her every few weeks or so. He and his men had prevailed at the Battle of Falkirk, though the English had been victorious. Thankfully, all of his kin had also lived. They’d regrouped and struck hard again.

T
he last news she’d had was that he would have returned by now. Two days late he was, and for at least a day, she’d been forcing her body to hold in the babe, a feat in itself.

The door opened, and Mariana whirled around, expecting to see Brandon filling the expanse, but another more terrifying man did.
The priest. Dressed in flowing black robes, the same steel cross. Obviously, the man had found something that fit.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to put her hands on her hips, but her hips had been swallowed by her belly, so she dropped them back to her sides.
She’d not seen him since the kirk.

“I’ve come to pray for
ye and the bairn.”

“Why?”

“’Tis custom.”

“Custom for who and what reason?”

“For a mother and her bairn,” he said with exasperation.

“Where is my husband?”

The man shrugged and let himself into the room, coming to stand in front of her. He gazed down at her swollen belly. A shudder of fear passed through her.

“How did they find you?” she
asked, her instincts on high alert.

“I came to return this.” He held out his hand, fingers slowly curling back to reveal her ring.

“Keep it,” she said, tersely.

The priest raised a brow. “Why, my lady?”

“It means naught to me. I don’t want it back.”

He gave a curt nod and put it in a pouch at his side.

“Do ye wish to confess?”

“What?”
Mariana frowned. “You came here to return the ring. Nothing more. I don’t want it, so you can leave.” She whirled around.

“My lady, I am here to comfort
ye, as a man of God does.”

“But you are only succeeding in annoying me. Now go away.”

“If ye do not wish to confess, I cannot absolve ye of your sins and if I cannot absolve ye of your sins, they may be passed onto your unborn child.”

Mariana groaned and turned back to the oversized priest. He wasn’t fat by any means, but built of solid muscle, and she wished to throw his bulk right out the window.

“Fine, I shall confess. I stole a platter of sweet breads and a bowl of almonds from the kitchen. Hid them in my wardrobe and snacked on them the entire day today.”

“My lady!” gasped the maid. They’d all told her she couldn’t eat while in labor, else she might wretch.

Well, she was damned hungry.

The priest chuckled.
“Anything else?”

“No,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“All right, then.” He stepped closer, marked a cross on her forehead. “Ye are free of sin.” His hand pressed to her belly. “And so are ye.”

A pain clutched around her middle, and Mariana doubled over. The priest jumped back from her, and she watched his feet scurry over toward the door. Fast for a large man. He excused himself from the room, leaving her bent over in pain.

“Please come to the bed, my lady. Ye dinna have to undress, yet, if it doesna suit yet.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll sit by the window.”

“Fine, but at least let me put a blanket over your lap.”

Brandon’s servants were bossy. Well, not all of them, just the one assigned to her. She would have a serious talk with the woman when this was all over and done with.

The pains in her belly were coming quicker, and she rubbed her hands over her back and front to soothe herself. There was only so much she could do to keep the babe from coming. In truth, she didn’t think her willpower had as much to with it as her praying and bargaining did. Brandon had to be here to witness the birth of their miracle baby.

She’d been certain that she was barren.
Would have bet her life on it. But several months into their marriage, her woman’s cycle ceased and she began eating like a horse. She never experienced the sickness most women complained of, and instead of being tired she was full of energy. A miracle, all of it.

And for that reason, Brandon had to be here. It wouldn’t be right to bring in this gift of a child without him.

Another pain caused her to cry out. This baby was coming, no matter what she did.

The door creaked open again, an
d this time Beatrice tiptoed in, the blue of her eyes the same as Brandon’s.

“How are ye feeling, lass?” she asked. “Why are ye not abed?”

“I am fine,” she lied. “Just enjoying a bit of the night view.”

Beatrice raised a brow. The woman’s grey hair was pulled in a loose braid, and though she was nearing sixty, her face had few wrinkles. She dressed in plaid of brighter hues than most of those in the cla
n, colors that matched Brandon—deep yellows, greens and blues. The same plaid Mariana herself was wearing now.

“Then ye saw.”

“Saw what?”

“Me.” Brandon’s voice boomed across the room.

“Brandon!” Mariana shrieked and jumped up to greet him, but the move proved to be too much. She slumped back into the chair and clutched at her belly.

The pain was intense and with it came a great pressure between her thighs. Brandon rushed forward, his hand on her belly. Are ye all right?

“I think I need to lie down now,” she said, panting between words.

Bran
don scooped her up and carried her to the bed, lying her down as gently as if she were made of glass and weighed no more than a feather—unlike the great sow she felt like.

“You’re late,” she murmured as he pressed his lips to hers.

“Ye’re early.”

She chuckled. “We waited—
“ But her words were cut short by another pain and more pressure.

“We must undress her,” Beatrice said. “Get
the midwife,” she ordered the maid.

Brandon moved to leave, but Mariana clutched his hand. “Don’t leave me.”

“Ye want me to stay? Men dinna—“

“Stay,” she cut him off.

Brandon nodded, went around the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. “As ye wish, my love.”

The midwife arrived and less than an hour later, Brandon and Mariana held their little miracles i
n their arms. A boy, Brandon after his father and a girl they named Mari.

Later that night, as they each held a bundle of pink, soundly sleeping
baby, Brandon gazed at her, a smile of victory on his lips.

“Ye know, wife, I thought myself triumphant over Longshanks when I stole ye away. But now I have two more reasons to
rejoice.”

Mariana reached out and stroked the back of her finger
s over Brandon’s stubbled cheek, pure joy filling her heart. “I think ’twas me who did the stealing.”

Her husband shook his head.
“Nay, wife.” He pressed a kiss to each babe’s forehead and then one to her lips. “We
found
each other.”

Mariana leaned onto Brandon’s shoulder and gazed up into his eyes.
“Finders keepers?”

“
Aye, forever.” He sent a slow wink her way, and Mariana’s stomach fluttered.

“I love you
so very much,” she whispered.

“I love
ye, too, my sweet.”

Brandon brushed his lips over her forehead, then her mouth.
They fell asleep, leaning against one another, all they ever needed, right there with them.

“T
he End”

If you enjoyed
THE HIGHLANDER’S TRIUMPH
, please spread the word by leaving a review on the site where you purchased your copy, or a reader site such as Goodreads or Shelfari! I love to hear from readers too, so drop me a line at
[email protected]
OR visit me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/elizaknightauthor
. I’m also on Twitter: @ElizaKnight
Many thanks!