Possessed by the Highlander Page 8

  “You did nothing last night, Sir Duncan. Other than being clumsy and I dare not think that deserves to be punished by being forced into an unwanted marriage.” She slid her hands down her gown, smoothing some unseen wrinkles as she said it.

  “I am not being forced into this union, Lady Marian,” he asserted. There were ways of being forced and then there were ways.

  She laughed then for only a moment or two and then peered at him. “I appreciate your chivalry and I am trying to return the favor to you by not binding you to me for the rest of your life or mine. A handfasting accomplishes what my brother and your honor demand, but with an end in sight.”

  “And at the end of our year together?” he asked, wanting to know what she thought of what was to come between them.

  “If either of us wants an end to it, it ends. If there is a child or children, you have the right to decide their fates.”

  The words were spoken with a complete lack of passion, but that lack made them all the more tense. Duncan pressed on, so that there would be no surprises between them.

  “So you will share my bed then?”

  She blushed then and Duncan was glad of it. Harlot she might have been, but she did not seem to cast her favors about freely. “If you wish it,” she whispered.

  Better to make his wishes clear now. “Mine is the only bed I wish you to share during our year together.” If the words seemed harsh, so be it. A fool he might have been for not seeing the plot going on around him, but the horns of a cuckold he would not wear for any woman.

  “I would never dishonor you so, sir.”

  “Then we are agreed. But one thing plagues me from last night.” Short glimpses of their encounter raced through his mind and he thought he remembered the taste of her mouth and the heat of her skin under his touch. “Did not anything of a…personal nature happen between us? I would like to know if it did.”

  “A few kisses. A caress here and there,” she answered as the red blush spread up higher and deeper on her cheeks. “Nothing more,” she added, unable to meet his gaze.

  Suddenly images of a woman shot through his mind, one trembling beneath his touch, touching her mouth to his as they kissed, his tongue moving deeply in her mouth, imitating the joining he wanted to happen. Heat pulsed through him as he remembered a kiss and then another and then the feel of her breasts, heavy in his hands as he thrust his hardness against her hip.

  Did he dare to kiss her and discover if the images matched the truth of her?

  Leaning in closer, he touched his mouth to hers gently. ’Twas like the scene in his memories, for she opened her mouth to his and he swept his tongue in to taste her once more. He did not touch her elsewhere, only their mouths were joined as he sampled her softness and thought on the coming night.

  When the door opened, it startled both from their thoughts, from their guilty thoughts if their reactions were any indications and from the kiss that they shared. Iain held out his hand to her and said that the priest waited outside to perform the ceremony.

  Well, the good thing was that she did not seem hesitant about sharing his bed. And she’d placed no demands on him. He should feel good about that, but it bothered him that she expected so little of him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him before they reached the door.

  “And what do you expect from me during this bonding, lady? Surely you have some demand or request of me?”

  Her expression emptied as though she’d not thought on it even in passing. Then she nodded and whispered her answer to him so that her brother could not hear it.

  “I would ask that you not beat me or my daughter, sir.”

  Such a simple statement, he could not take it in, for it spoke so much about her life these last years. He’d been correct in his assessment of her and in what he’d told Hamish. She knew not of her value having lived with the humiliation of her sins for so long that nothing else mattered in her mind.

  But when she could, she asked for nothing more than the consideration a man would give the beasts that labored for him in his fields. She asked not for happiness, nor the comforts her wealth could afford, nor anything personal to ease her way or her life…nor for love or tenderness a new bride might expect or hope for. She asked only not to be beaten.

  Duncan had been feeling sorry for himself, being lured or manipulated into this union for the purposes of others and had never actually thought about what she wanted. And now, now that she had spoken of her needs, he felt like the meanest bastard and offered her what she needed to hear this moment.

  “You have my word, Marian. I will never raise my hand against you or Ciara.”

  Reassured, she met his gaze and gifted him with a smile then and he followed them into the hall.

  Marian signed the documents when they were placed before her, not reading them though she could read Latin. She admired the way her brother accomplished things when he set his mind to a task. The contracts drawn up in just a day, bags of gold and deeds to various lands exchanged, a completed treaty establishing an alliance between their two clans, a priest called to witness the handfasting (though none was needed to do so), and even a new gown and tunic for her to wear.

  If only he’d been this efficient on that night so long ago, all of this would be unnecessary now.

  Now she sat naked under the sheets of a freshly made bed, waiting for the man she would live with and be wife to for the next year-and-a-day. There would be no actual bedding ceremony, but the priest would come to bless the bed and pronounce that any child conceived here or in the coming days was part of a legal union. Marian shivered, partly from the chill in the room and partly from what she knew was about to happen between them.

  When the door opened and Duncan walked in, followed by his man Hamish and her brother, she slid down farther under the blankets. Duncan tugged his shirt off over his head and then loosened his belt, allowing the length of plaid he wore to drop to the floor. He did not hurry as he climbed into the bed, allowing her a glimpse of his muscular back and legs before sliding under the sheets and touching her bare leg with his.

  ’Twas a reminder of the intimacy yet to happen between them. Once he sat next to her, the priest entered carrying the strips of tartan wool that had marked their joining before the witnesses in the hall. Instead of reaching across her to join hands as he had before, he placed his arm around her shoulder and held her hand. His heat surrounded her, made even more complete by the way he tucked her closer to him, his naked skin touching hers from her shoulders down to her feet.

  “You have declared yourselves husband and wife before witnesses,” he said as he tied the strips of wool around their wrists. “And you shall live as man and wife before God and his Church.”

  He dipped his fingers into a bowl carried by her brother and sprinkled it on them and on the bed around them. “May you be fruitful in this the Lord’s work and in this union.” Another dip into the holy water and this time he marked their heads and their hearts and their hands with a sign of the cross. “May this union bring forth children for the Lord’s honor and glory. May He bless you as He blesses all his faithful….”

  Marian lost track of the blessings and the holy water, but soon it was over and she sat alone, naked with her husband in a bed. Looking down at their hands, fingers entwined and wrists tied together with the plaid patterns of their clans, she waited. The heat grew between them and she would have shimmied away to give him more room but their wrists remained tied together and his arm held her close.

  “Should we take these off?” he asked before untying the plaids. He tossed them aside and then let her hand drop to the covers.

  Marian thought that the less she tried to say, the better things would be. She was certain he thought her a brainless fool when she asked him not to beat her, but it truly was smarter than saying anything else to him just then. The rest of the truth behind their union had yet to be revealed and his promise not to raise his hand to her might be his one regret.

  “Can we put out the ca
ndles?” she asked.

  He nodded wordlessly and turned over to blow out the one on the table next to the bed. Climbing out, he continued moving around the room until all the lights had been extinguished. But, the moonlight that lit the cloudless sky outside and poured in through the large glazed window in the chamber, illuminated his very masculine form before her. Marian knew some of him by feel after last night’s encounter, but her mouth went dry when faced with the raw power of his naked body.

  Surely now that they both understood their places in this arrangement, their joining would simply be to mark their promise and nothing more complex. Certain that he had the experience and knowledge to make it so, she waited for his approach.

  Duncan slid back next to her and slipped one of his arms around her again, gathering her close to him. He entwined the fingers of their right hands together, joining them more assuredly than the wool ever had. A tremble or shiver passed through her at his heat, but her body responded as it did the night before…when she never got out the word she wanted to say. But, it remembered and it prepared for his possession, even as she tried to convince herself that this joining would be nothing more than to mark their vows.

  Lifting her chin so that he could touch his mouth to hers, Duncan kissed her again, much like the two earlier kisses, simply exploring her mouth with his, readying her for more. She let him lead, opening when he teased, touching when he offered his tongue to hers, tasting and breathing in his taste and his scent.

  “Now that I remember from last night. Your mouth was hot when I kissed you then, too,” he whispered to her.

  When his other hand began to explore her skin and touched the sides of her breasts, she could not help arching toward him and his touch. His mouth became insistent, his kisses deeper and longer, making her breathless but anxious for the next one and the next one and the next. His fingers teased the tips of her breasts, rolling and squeezing them on one then the other, until they tightened into sensitive peaks that ached for more. Then he soothed them with a touch of his tongue.

  Every part of her, whether touched yet or not, ached for him. She felt a wetness gather between her legs and a throbbing deep within. ’Twas when his mouth moved from hers and took one of those taut peaks between his lips and then suckled it that the scream tore free from her.

  “Ah, Marian. Softly now,” he pleaded, but thankfully he did not stop his actions. “’Twould be unsettling to have your brother seek the reason for your cry now.”

  She promised him something, what she knew not for all pretenses of wanting or carrying out a sensible joining had fled from her. What words she spoke were the right thing, for he moved back to lick and suckle her breasts again. Although he still held her right hand in his, she reached up and, with her fingers sliding through his hair, held his head close and gave him no choice but to continue his caresses and kisses.

  She would have said yes last night. She knew now she would have said yes and, if given the chance to have him touch and tease like this, she would have begged for him to take her, there on the ground next to her cottage. She did not say it last night, but she said it now, begging for something more and he laughed and obeyed her command.

  Still using only one hand, Duncan slid it over her sweat-slicked skin on a path that led down under the sheets. Marian could not see her legs or the place between them, but she could feel it. Something like a craving grew there and as his hand moved closer, her thighs fell open for his touch. Just before his finger entered the nest of curls there, he took her mouth once more.

  Sliding one finger then two into the wet crevice there, he opened her even more and then rubbed between the folds, creating such a lovely friction and soothing it with each stroke until she thought her breath was gone from her body.

  Arching against his fingers, her body trembled until he slid one leg over her thighs trapping her legs under his so that he could continue his arousing assault there. Finally he released her hand and she slid it into his hair and pulled his mouth even closer, breathing in his own breath, sucking on his tongue when he teased hers.

  The tension within her grew with every touch, every stroke, and every kiss until she could feel the power of it begin to unfurl deep inside. When he found that small bud between her engorged folds, she keened out as her release crashed over her. With his hand still stroking her, he climbed over her, spread her legs even wider and then he positioned the head of his erection at the opening to her core.

  She watched as though outside herself as he filled her woman’s core even to her womb with one thrust.

  One thrust that pierced her maidenhead.

  One thrust that brought on his release.

  One thrust that made everything different.

  Marian watched through the fog of passion as the truth hit him and prayed he would remember his promise.

  Chapter Eight

  The sounds of the keep coming to life, though softened high up in the tower as this chamber was, wakened her and Marian pushed the hair from her face and slid back against the pillows of the bed. She could not remember sleeping so deeply before, but it had been years since she’d spent the night in such a comfortable bed as this. The events of the night before came flooding back and she looked around the chamber for any sign of Duncan.

  He was gone.

  Sunlight streamed in through her brother’s expensive glazed window, warming and invigorating her, but nothing would remove the chill in her heart from the last expression on her new husband’s face as he realized she’d come to his bed a maid and not the harlot he thought. Indeed, most men would be thankful for such a revelation. Duncan the Peacemaker was not most men.

  Marian stretched her arms and legs and thought about getting dressed, but she had no gowns here in this chamber. Only a dressing robe that lay at the foot of the bed. Duncan would be leaving this morn, her brother told her. The treaty successfully negotiated and signed, Duncan could return to his laird with the glad tidings of another peace made.

  She began to slide her legs out from under the covers when the burning in that place between them reminded her of the other bargain made and the yet uncertain outcome from it. Did she remain here, a woman joined yet not quite married? Did she go with him? Had he gone to repudiate the arrangements with her brother? If he’d bargained for the Harlot as wife, did her being a maid change it all?

  She could not abide this uncertainty, so Marian decided to find some clothing, seek out Duncan or her brother and discover what the nature of their union was to be now that he knew he’d been deceived. He’d kept his word and not struck her when he found out the truth, indeed, his reaction had been surprising.

  He’d knelt over her, staring wildly at her face as he realized that he had pushed through her maidenhead with his thrust. Withdrawing even while his seed still poured forth, he climbed off her and the bed and walked to the table. A basin and some washing cloths lay there and he used one to clean the blood and seed off himself. Turning back to her, he had approached with another cloth for her use. Confused and embarrassed at her exposure before him, she quickly wiped herself and handed him back the cloth.

  Marian had pulled the sheets back over her and watched as he grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head. Then he sat down on the chair in the corner, next to the hearth and simply stared into the darkened chamber. Marian had watched him, wary of his reaction to the truth of her condition, until she’d fallen asleep an hour or two later.

  Neither had spoken a word and she had no idea of how things stood between them. But, ’twas time to find out. With her robe wrapped tightly around her, Marian stepped from the chamber and sought out the servants. They would know where she could find her bag.

  And found herself facing her husband.

  “Come, I have clothing for you,” he said as he reached past her and opened the chamber door. Once inside, he closed it and dropped the latch. “I only just realized that you were trapped here since your bag was packed away.”

  He strived for sounding
practical and wondered if he’d been successful, for the sight of her wearing only that robe made it near impossible not to think about how she looked like and felt like beneath it. He inhaled her scent as he passed her and in that instant he could once more smell the musky aroma of her arousal as she’d fallen to pieces in his arms.

  He’d been a fool not to recognize that she was a virgin. But, truth be told, the sights and sounds of the night before when he was drunk and drugged had flooded his mind and all he wanted to was hear the wonderful sighs she made as he touched her again…and kissed her again…and…’Twas no wonder he’d spilled his seed with barely one thrust into her heat.

  Shaking himself free of the stimulating images pouring through his thoughts and focusing on the gown and tunic and stockings found in her bag, he moved across the room and placed them on the bed. If he examined his state of mind, he would confess to still being in shock over the events of these last three days and nights, but there were things to be done, and traveling to begin, so he had little time to dwell on them.

  In spite of a whole night spent sitting and trying to think this through, he found himself no closer to understanding this and all his turning and twisting of the situation in his head had yielded him nothing except more questions. The woman he thought to be a pawn in her brother’s game turned out to be a more valuable piece than anyone knew or could admit. And though he could believe she had no part in drugging him or guiding his feet to her cottage, the thin maidenhead he’d pierced so carelessly and without warning spoke of her involvement on so many other levels.

  “There is time before we leave to break your fast in the hall or I can have a tray sent up to you if you would prefer,” he offered.

  Now she wore the shocked expression, stopping with her hand out between them as she reached for her garments.

  “I was not certain of your plans,” she said in a shaky voice. “After…” She glanced at the bed, her meaning extremely clear.

  “Nothing has changed,” he answered abruptly, for what could he say? “The treaty has been signed, the requirements met on all levels and my task here is done. ’Tis time to return to my clan.”