Highland Wedding (7 page)

“I ken it. Life and work and all get in the way. T’will take a wee bit of time to get used to it though.”

She trembled when he gently removed her gown, then rather callously tossed it away. When he pulled her body close to his she moaned softly. The feel of their skin touching set her blood running hot. She smoothed her hands over his broad back, loving the feel of smooth skin stretched tautly over firm muscle.

When he kissed her, she clung to him. Her lips parted willingly when his tongue nudged at them, begging for entry. Daringly she parried the thrust of his tongue. His soft growl was so clearly one of approval that she grew even more bold. She quickly discovered that joining in the lovemaking was very exciting. When Iain suddenly pulled away she stared up at him a little groggily, astounded at the power of a mere kiss.

“Ye are a verra fast learner, lass,” he rasped as he fought to retain some control over the desire she stirred in him.

“And is that good?” she asked in a husky whisper, moving her hands slowly over his slim hips.

“Ye willnae hear me complain,” he murmured against her throat as his stroking hands sought her breasts.

“How nice,” she managed to say before she found it impossible to talk clearly.

A little saner than he had been the first time, Iain was able to appreciate the desire he stirred in her. He was able to fully realize what a passionate woman she was, unrestrained and more than willing to give as well as take. Simply thinking of all he
could teach her for their mutual enjoyment sent his passions soaring. She was a treasure and he knew he had only begun to discover her full worth as a lover.

Islaen cried out softly when his tongue flicked over the aching tip of her breast. She bore the teasing strokes of his tongue for as long as she could, then buried her hands in his thick hair and pressed his face closer, silently urging him to end his game. When he finally answered her plea, drawing the swollen tip of her breast deep into his mouth, her soft cry of delight held a note of relief. Her body arched against his as each draw upon her breast seemed to send heat straight to her loins.

She welcomed the touch of his hand when it slid between her thighs. It was not really enough, however, even though she suddenly realized that his skilled touch could bring her body the release it ached for. Islaen sought to break the control she sensed he exercised, her hands moving over him in an impassioned search for a place where her touch would end that control. A small part of her passion-fogged mind expressed shock over her wantonness but she easily ignored it.

Iain shuddered and groaned when her long delicate fingers trailed up his inner thigh, then curled slowly around his engorged manhood. He buried his face in her breasts and trembled as she stroked him, but knew he had waited too long to enjoy her touch. Pulling her hand away a moment later, he drove into her. Feeling her body shudder beneath him he gritted his teeth and gathered up a few shreds of his tattered control, holding himself still as he looked down at her.

“Did I hurt ye, lass?” he rasped, drawing in a shaky breath as her gaze met his and he saw how passion made the gold in her lovely eyes sparkle, the brown turning nearly black and accentuating the golden flecks.

“Nay,” she replied on a husky sigh, her hands sliding down his back to cup his taut, smooth buttocks. “Can ye feel it?” she whispered, hoping he would not guess the reason for her query.

“It?”

“The sponge.”

“Oh. Nay. Ye did put one in, didnae ye?”

“Oh, aye, ’tis there.” Wrapping her legs around his waist, she arched her body even as her hands pushed against his backside forcing him deeper. “Now?”

It took Iain a moment to catch his breath. “Nay, not even now. All I can feel is the moist, tight welcome of ye.”

“And ’tis verra welcome ye are, Sir MacLagan.”

“’Tis verra glad I am to hear it, wee Islaen, for I think I shall often be tirling at the pin.”

“Knock and the door shall open,” she whispered and her last word ended on a soft gasp for he began to move.

For just a little while their movements were slow, each of them savoring the feel of the joining of their bodies. Neither of them really had the patience for such leisurely lovemaking, however. Iain’s movements soon grew fiercer and Islaen welcomed the change, her body greedy for the release that hovered just beyond her each.

Iain was only able to watch the first glow of her release transform her face before her inner shudders forced him to join her in the fall into passion’s abyss. When he felt her body greedily accept the gift of his passion he clung tightly to her and felt a brief but strong touch of sorrow for the fact that the seed he poured into her welcoming body was
denied any chance of taking root. It seemed unspeakably unfair that God should make him desire children, then show him how easily and horribly that desire could bring about death.

Determinedly he shook away that thought and simply enjoyed the feel of a soft, willing woman beneath him. Catalina had always made him feel little better than a rapist, nothing he did raising her response above that of a grudgingly endured duty. Islaen gave freely of her passion, turned to fire beneath him, and he reveled in it. She even likes the aftertime, he mused with an inner self-satisfied smile, as he felt her body move beneath his, her hands moving over him in a sign of lethargic satisfaction.

When Iain finally moved off of her, Islaen eluded his attempt to pull her close. Mumbling something vague about a need to wash up, she slid out of bed, cursing the fact that she had nothing at hand to slip on. Moving quickly and blushing deeply, she hurried behind the screen and extracted the sponge, then washed up.

She felt confident that he would make love to her again before morning. Although he had said he had felt nothing she had to make sure. Being so new to the game she was sure he would accept the excuse that she had forgotten to replace it after washing up and would give her another chance. She prayed that he would not notice for she did not know what to do if he did.

Before dashing back to the bed she took careful note of how the sponge looked after use. She doubted he would go so far in assuring himself that she obeyed his demands but she would take no chances. Every time they made love she would make sure that everything indicated that she had obeyed him. So too did she pray that she did not take too long to accomplish what she planned, for she did not want to have to bear the strain of such deception for too long.

Taking a deep breath, she hurried back to bed. She colored deeply when she saw that Iain watched her every step. Slipping beneath the covers she saw him grin, then he reached for her and she pressed her flushed face against his chest.

“Ye bounce,” he murmured, a tremor of laughter in his voice as he nuzzled her thick hair. “’Tis lovely to watch,” he said when she groaned softly. “So lovely I am sore tempted to ask ye to run about the room a few times so that I might just watch.”

“Och, ye wouldnae,” she gasped, lifting her head to stare at him, not sure if he was teasing her or not.

“Weel, I will wait until ye arenae so shy about your nakedness. ’Tis a lovely shape ye have, lass. Ye should be proud of it.”

“Ye are muckle bonnie yourself, Iain.”

“I have no more nor less than any other mon.”

“Mayhaps but ’tis put together most pleasingly.”

“Weel, if ye are pleased ’tis all that matters.”

“Ye really dinnae see it, do ye.”

“See what?” He idly began to trace the gentle curves of her body with his hands.

“How the women look at ye. They wouldnae eye an ugly mon so eagerly nor invite him so boldly.”

“Weel, I have ne’er thought myself ugly. I have little interest in whores, lass. They can tempt when a mon has naught in his bed, but I have more than enough for any mon now. I think t’will take near all my strength to handle ye.”

Smiling with unconscious seductiveness, Islaen rubbed her body lightly against his,
an invitation he was quick to answer. Her passion was checked slightly when he entered her but when he said nothing, seemed to notice nothing, she was quickly caught in her desire for him again. She did not think of it again until she laid sprawled beneath his sated body enjoying the tingle his lovemaking induced in her.

“Do ye need to go, er, wash up?” he asked as he slowly eased the intimacy of their embrace.

It was hard not to cheer with relief at this proof that he had noticed no change. “It willnae hurt if I wait a wee while, will it?”

“Nay,” he answered and turned onto his back, pulling her into his arms and smiling at the way she cuddled up to him.

“Good. I am feeling too nicely weary to trouble with it.”

“Ah, weel, and here was I eager to see ye bounce again.”

“Ye are a rogue.”

“Aye, mayhaps.”

“Anither time.”

“Aye, we have years.” He suddenly thought of Duncan MacLennon as he spoke and inwardly grimaced.

Islaen heard an odd note in his voice but instinct told her she would find out nothing if she asked about it. Suddenly she recalled him speaking of a man set upon killing him and she pressed closer to him. She was going to have to do something, she decided firmly, to remove that shadow from their lives.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure neither Ronald nor Lord Fraser was watching, Islaen hurried to a secluded corner. With a relieved sigh she sat down upon the chest there. It was not as out of sight of the others in the hall as she would have liked but she prayed it was enough of a hiding place to give her some respite from the two men who seemed so determined to pursue her. She was growing very tired of their constant fawning and rather bold attentions, attentions not at all curbed by her marriage.

Searching the hall for some sight of her husband, she scowled when she finally espied him. It was not only Ronald and Lord Fraser who ignored the sanctified boundaries of marriage. As far as she was concerned too many women did too. Lady Constance never failed to corner Iain whenever they came to the hall or any other place the woman could find him. She was not the only one either, Islaen thought crossly, just the most persistent.

“Her husband will soon arrive.”

Islaen jumped, then frowned at Alexander as he sat down beside her. “Ye startled me. Her husband is coming here?”

“Aye and our fair whore will become as demure as a nun.”

“Does it really fool the mon? ’Tis sure he must hear talk of how she behaves when he isnae about.”

“He hears but seems to care little as long as she behaves when he is near. He acts no better when out of her sight.”

“Is that why ye now avoid her, because her husband soon comes?”

“Aye, the mon sore hates me. He would challenge me but isnae as good with a sword as he thinks. I have no wish to kill a mon simply because his wife is a whore. Ye need not fear that Iain will e’er pay her invites heed. He doesnae like her.”

“I hadnae realized that that mattered,” she drawled and Alexander grinned.

“With most men, nay, not much. Iain prefers to at least like the woman. In that he was e’er a bit different from his brothers.”

“Aye? I ken little of his kin.”

“Weel, Tavis, ere he found Storm, just cared that they were somewhat clean and nay too hard to look upon.”

“Most important,” she murmured sarcastically and he laughed softly.

“Now, Sholto is a rogue. Mayhaps e’en more so than Tavis was. He can charm most any lass and I am sure the men in France, where he has gone to fight, would as lief he came home.”

“And the men here hope he stays there.”

Alexander laughed and nodded. “Aye, most like. They all want what Tavis has found, though, lass.”

“A Sassanach lass?” she said pertly and met his grin with one of her own then grew serious. “Ye are sure of that?”

“Verra. Each has said as much at least once. Sholto still searches. Ah, but Iain, now he has had the dream scarred by that bitch Catalina.”

“Many a woman has died upon her childbed.”

“True. Sad but true. But did they curse and accuse their man with every birth pain and with their dying breath?”

“Is that what she did?”

“Aye. His guilt was added to because he didnae love her though he was willing to try. She ne’er was. She loved another, treated Iain’s every touch or soft word as if it were poison, a torment she had to bear out of duty to her family. She e’en made Tavis feel guilty for t’was his romp with another MacBroth lass whom he cast aside that brought about the wedding. Katerine MacBroth was and still is a whore but they had hoped Tavis would wed her. Iain’s wedding Catalina soothed those disappointed hopes and strengthened an old alliance. I think Iain paid a high cost, though, mayhaps too high.”

“Ye would think such things would show people that arranging or forcing marriages is not right. It only brings grief.”

“Is that how ye feel about yours?”

“Nay but there are some odd twists to this arranged mating. I ken I willnae surprise ye by saying I wanted Iain.” She blushed slightly when he grinned. “It wasnae me he objected to but taking any lass as wife. Weel, I feel certain ye ken all of that.”

“Aye, ye have a rough road ahead of ye, lass,” he said quietly and, seeing the direction of her gaze, added, “but ’tis not other women ye need fash yourself o’er. None of the MacLagans are saints, ’tis true, but they dinnae take their vows lightly.”

Islaen tried very hard to remember that assurance. The fact that Iain was never absent from their bed, not even when, to her extreme disappontment, she had her woman’s time, was also reassuring. Most nights they even retired to their chambers at the same time. There was also the fact that he was never really out of her sight. Nevertheless, she found it a trial to watch how the women flirted with him. She was heartily relieved when her father told her of the plans to leave for home.

“T’will be soon?”

“Aye, lass, there is but a little business to finish. Do ye grow weary of court?”

“Aye, verra weary,” she muttered as she watched a fulsome woman give Iain a blatantly inviting smile.

“Aye, that is a nuisance and ye have one or twa sniffing at your heels. Do they give ye much trouble?”

“Nay, neither the ones after me nor the ones hunting him. They but grow verra tiresome.”

“And ye have enough problems, eh?”

“I am not unhappy, Fither.”

“But are ye happy?”

“Aye.”

“Weel, I have caught ye looking wistful a time or twa.”

“Wistful isnae the same.”

“Islaen, lass, I ask ye to speak honestly with me. I wanted ye wed, aye, but I wanted ye happy too.”

“Fither, I am happy. Aye, I willnae lie and say naught is wrong. There are problems. The mon’s been most honest with me. I ken weel what might lay ahead. Aye, I may feel muckle sad at times, e’en hurt, but I will tell ye true, Fither, t’will be naught to what I would feel an I ne’er had the mon. I wanted him and I have what I wanted. Now, if there is to be some bitter with the sweet, ’tis what I chose so I will swallow it and nay complain. Weel, not too much,” she added with a half smile.

He laughed softly and briefly hugged her. “I ken what ye mean, lass. My prayers are with ye.”

Islaen was glad of her father’s prayers but she soon wished she had accepted the silent offer he had made to help rid her of the unwanted attentions of Ronald MacDubh and Lord Fraser. She found herself neatly cornered by Ronald after an evening meal and looked around for some assistance in ridding herself of him but saw none. Iain was deep in conversation with the king and none of her kin was near enough to really see her or notice that she was trying to secure their attention. She resigned herself to trying to diplomatically get away from him, but it was getting harder and harder to be polite. While she did not want to insult the king’s godson she was beginning to think that it would be the only way to stop his attentions. Polite refusals of his rather blatant bid for her favours were not working.

“I find it hard to believe your husband would leave ye unattended for so long.”

“He has business with the king,” she said a little testily, trying to avoid his attempts to pin her against the wall.

“And so he leaves his bonnie wife all alone with naught to do. I could help ye pass the time,” he murmured huskily as he finally succeeded in getting her trapped between him and the wall.

Shock held Islaen still for a moment. She could not believe the man meant to kiss her or more right there in the crowded hall, yet it was clear that that was exactly what he meant to do. When he pressed his body close to hers, she shivered with revulsion and prepared to shove him away only to have him yanked free of her.

She saw that her rescuer was Alexander and was a little disappointed. It also surprised her that such a beautiful man could look so hard and threatening. Alexander held a now frightened Ronald by the back of the neck of his jupon and Islaen’s eyes widened a little when she saw that Ronald’s feet were several inches off the floor.

“I believe the lass has made it verra clear that she doesnae wish ye to help her pass the time.”

“Rescuing my wife?”

Islaen wondered how Iain had reached her side so quickly, then realized that he was not as unawares of where she was and what she was doing as she had thought.

“I wasnae sure that ye had seen that she was in need of it.”

“I could have managed,” she said defensively but neither man paid her any heed.

“I saw. The king wishes to speak to that.” Iain nodded towards Ronald.

Although she would not have thought it possible, Ronald went even paler and Alexander smiled coldly as he dragged the younger man off. She peered around Iain and watched the king signal Alexander and Ronald to follow him. It then came to Islaen’s attention that everyone was avidly watching them and she blushed deeply.

Iain stared at her and fought to control his anger before he spoke. Despite the whispered slurs of some of the women he knew Islaen had done nothing to draw Ronald’s attentions nor to make the man think they would be welcome. Many times he had wanted to step in when he saw the man or any other pursuing Islaen but he had held back. He believed it was best if she learned how to handle such matters on her own.

When Ronald had cornered her, Iain had not hesitated an instant. Even as he had leapt to his feet he had informed the king almost casually that he was going to kill his godson. Iain knew he would have, too, if not for Alexander’s presence. He could not help but wonder if Alexander had sensed it, and that was why the man had been that one step ahead of him. Such was Iain’s rage that he could not be sure he would even have given
Ronald a chance to defend himself.

That rage bothered him. He realized he was failing in keeping a distance between himself and Islaen but he could see no way to do more than he was already doing. The girl was a witch, he decided crossly, effortlessly pulling him closer to her, bewitching him without seeming to even try. It was a dangerous bewitchment for he could see no way to successfully fight it.

Troubled by that thought his voice was almost accusing as he said, “Ye should have told me he was growing so troublesome.”

Hearing that accusation in his voice, Islaen grew angry. She saw no reason for her to be scolded just because some fool did not know how to heed a no. It struck her as being the very height of unfairness.

“I have been managing the fool verra weel on my own, thank ye,” she snapped.

“Oh, aye, so weel that he traps ye against the wall and paws ye with half a hall full of people looking on.”

Her hands clenching into fists, she glared at him. “He didnae paw me and I was just about to push the oaf away. The hall full of people werenae paying me any heed either, not until ye and Alexander made it all such a grand show. Aye and ’tis a fine show ye give them now as ye stand here and curse at me for what was none of my doing, nor my fault. Weel, I shallnae abide it. Nay, by God’s beard, I willnae.”

She kicked him firmly in the shins. His hissed curse of pain was music to her ears as she strode away. She headed straight for their chambers deciding she had had more than enough of the court and of men in particular.

Just about to follow his wife, Iain was confronted by her father who drawled, “Roused her temper, did ye?”

Still a little stunned by the quickness and strength of her anger, Iain said calmly, “A wee difference of opinion is all.”

“Of course,” Alaistair murmured. “I would wait a wee while ere ye go to her. Let her finish her bath.”

“She had a bath this morning,” Iain growled, not sure he appreciated the man telling him how to handle his wife.

“The lass always has a bath when she’s in a temper. She will be more pliable afterwards.”

Islaen paused in brushing her drying hair when Iain entered their chambers. Although she had not gone to their chambers expecting him to run after her, she did wonder why he had stayed away. Her bath had soothed her temper some but she found that she still felt somewhat insulted. He had acted as if she had welcomed Ronald’s loathsome attentions.

Iain saw her glance at him, then look away. Seeing her seated upon the bed, her luxurious hair hanging free and her slim legs well exposed by the simple shift she wore, he felt his lust stir but fought it. He owed her an apology and he did not need anyone’s advice to tell him it would be best to give her one before he tried anything else.

When he started to undress and snuff the candles, she put her brush aside and crawled beneath the covers, her back to him. Iain mused that he would probably not be able to do anything else anyways until he soothed her sense of insult. It occurred to him that it was a perfect opportunity to put some distance between them. All he had to do was
nothing or possibly worse, demand his husbandly rights without even the faintest murmur of apology. Sighing as he crawled into bed beside her, he knew he would do neither if only because he did not want to be reduced to asserting his husbandly rights, he wanted them to make love.

When his arm slipped around her waist, Islaen tensed. She knew he could easily stir her passion despite her continued outrage but hoped that he would not.

“Islaen,” he murmured, kissing the back of her neck and feeling her tremble at his touch.

That sign of her susceptibility to his touch pleased him. She was clearly not one of those who could give or withhold her passion as she willed. If he wanted to, he could make love to her, taste her passion and not offer a word of apology. For reasons he did not really understand, that made it far easier to give her the apology she both wanted and deserved.

“Islaen, I am sorry. I was angry that he would dare paw ye, but he was taken out of reach of my anger so I turned it upon ye. I ken weel that ye didnae encourage the fool.”

Turning to face him, she said quietly, “Ye didnae really have to say it, ye ken.”

“Aye, I ken it. T’was why it was so easy to say, daft as that sounds.”

She laughed softly, then teased, “Ye said it because ye mean to do some pawing yourself, eh?”

“Pawing?” he growled in mock outrage and briefly tussled playfully with her as he removed her shift. “I ne’er paw.”

“And what do ye call it then?”

“Stroking.”

“Wheesht, there isnae a muckle lot of difference.”

“Nay? Weel, let me show ye. By morning ye will ken the difference weel, lass.”

Stretching langorously, Islaen watched her husband dress. He had fulfilled his threat, she thought with a softly lecherous smile. She knew well the difference between pawing and stroking as well as the subtleties of most any other sort of touch anyone wished to mention. When he came to give her a brief kiss, she twined her arms about his neck and persuaded him to give her a longer, fuller one.