In Bed with a Highlander

When he pulled away, she was dazed and she stared at him in absolute confusion.



“Ah, lass, what you do to me,” he whispered.



She blinked rapidly as she attempted to gather herself. This was a time when she needed to be solemn and sage. Offer something about how their marriage would be strong and based on mutual respect.



But none of those things would form in her mind. Quite simply, his kisses reduced her to a blithering idiot.



“You don’t kiss the correct way,” she blurted out.



Mortified that this was all she could manage to say, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for his censure.



When she reopened them, all she saw was deep amusement. The man looked fair to laughing. Her eyes narrowed. It was obvious he needed instruction on the matter.



“And what, pray tell, is the correct way?”



“You must keep your mouth closed.”



“I see.”



She nodded to reinforce her statement. “Aye, there are no tongues involved in kissing. ’Tis undignified.”



“Undignified?”



Again she nodded. This was going better than she imagined. He was taking her instructions quite well.



“Mother Serenity told me that kisses are for the cheek or the mouth, but only in very intimate situations. And they shouldn’t last overlong. Just enough to convey the proper emotion. She never mentioned anything about a tongue. It can’t be proper for you to kiss me and stick your tongue inside my mouth.”



His lips twitched in a suspicious manner. He even put a hand to his mouth and rubbed firmly for several moments before he lowered it and said, “And your Mother Serenity is an authority on kissing, is she?”



She nodded vigorously. “Oh aye. She told me everything I needed to know for the eventuality of my marriage. She took her duty very seriously.”



“Perhaps you should instruct me personally on this kissing matter,” he said. “You could show me the way of it.”



She frowned but then remembered this was the man she was taking as her husband. In that case, she supposed it was entirely proper, and even expected, that she should offer instruction in the matter of loving. It was very decent of him to be so understanding and to offer to correct the matter immediately. Why, they were going to get along quite well.



Feeling much better about her impending nuptials, she leaned forward and pursed her lips, prepared to show him the way of it.



As soon as her lips touched his, he grasped her shoulders and hauled her even closer.



She felt swallowed up. Consumed. Like he was absorbing her very essence.



And despite her stern lecture and patient instruction, he used his tongue.



CHAPTER 12



“Wake up, my lady! ’Tis your wedding day.”



Mairin pried open her eyes and groaned at the sight of the women crowding into her small chamber. She was exhausted. Her late-night escape attempts and the time spent pacing her chamber had caught up to her. After last night’s conversation with the laird, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.



One of the women threw aside the furs covering the window, and sunlight speared through Mairin’s eyeballs with razor-sharp clarity.



Her moan was louder this time and it set off a titter of laughter through the room.



“Our mistress doesn’t sound excited to be marrying our laird.”



“Christina, is that you?” Mairin grunted out.



“Aye, lady. ’Tis I. We’re having hot water brought up for a bath.”



“I bathed last evening,” Mairin said. Perhaps it would gain her an extra hour of sleep.



“Oh, but a bath on your wedding morning is a must. We’ll wash your hair and work sweet-smelling oils into your skin. Maddie makes them herself and they smell divine. The laird will be most appreciative.”



The laird wasn’t uppermost on her mind this morning. Sleep was.



Another giggle raced around the room, and Mairin realized that once again, she’d given voice to her thoughts.



“And we’ve brought you a gown to be married in,” another of the women said.



Mairin looked over, trying to remember the name of the young woman who was beaming excitedly at her. Mary? Margaret?



“Fiona, my lady.”



Mairin sighed. “Sorry. There are so many of you.”



“I took no offense,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Now would you like to see the gown we’ve fashioned for you?”



Mairin shoved herself up to her elbow and stared through bleary eyes at the assembled women. “Gown? You sewed a gown? But I agreed to marry the laird only last evening.”



Maddie didn’t look the least bit apologetic. She smiled broadly at Mairin as they held up the gown for her to see. “Oh, we knew it was only a matter of time before he persuaded you, lass. Aren’t you glad we began sewing? It took two solid days of round-the-clock sewing, but I think you’ll be happy with the result.”



Mairin stared at the beautiful creation in front of her. Tears crowded to the surface, and she blinked to keep them at bay. “ ’Tis beautiful.” And it was. It was rich green brocade and velvet with gold-trimmed sleeves and hem. Around the bodice were intricately embroidered designs with gold threads that shone in the sunlight.



“I’ve never seen anything to rival it,” she said.



The three women beamed back at her. Then Maddie went over to the bed and yanked the covers back. “You don’t want to keep the laird waiting. The priest arrived at dawn this morning, and the laird is quite impatient to have the ceremony done.”



For the next hour, the women washed, scrubbed, and rubbed Mairin from head to toe. By the time she was done with the bath and laid out on the bed for them to work in the scented oils, Mairin was perilously close to falling into unconsciousness.



They’d washed and dried her hair and then brushed it until it crackled and shined. It fanned over her back, satiny fine. Mairin had to admit, the women knew how to make a woman feel her best on her wedding day.



“All done,” Christina announced. “ ’Tis time for the dress and then you’re off to your wedding.”



Just then a knock sounded on the door and Gannon’s voice boomed through the heavy wood.



“The laird wants to know how much longer.”



Maddie rolled her eyes and then went to yank open the door, though she kept her body between Gannon and the inside of the room so he wouldn’t look on Mairin’s nakedness.



“You tell the laird we’ll have her down as soon as we can. These things can’t be rushed! Would you have the lass not looking her best on her wedding day?”



Gannon muttered an apology and then backed away, promising he’d relay the news to the laird.



“Now then,” Maddie said as she returned to Mairin. “Let’s get this gown on you and then downstairs to the laird.”



“They’ve been at it for hours,” Ewan muttered. “What could possibly take so long?”



“They’re women,” Alaric said, as if that explained everything.



Caelen nodded and turned up his mug to drain the last of his ale.



Ewan sat in his high-backed chair and shook his head. His wedding day. There was a marked difference in this day and the day he’d wed his first wife.



He hadn’t thought of Celia except in passing for quite some time now. Some days he had difficulty conjuring the image of his young wife to mind. The years had passed, and with each year, she’d faded more from his memory.



He’d been a much younger man when he’d wed Celia. She, too, had been young. Vibrant. He remembered that much. She always had a ready smile. He’d considered her a friend. They’d been childhood playmates before training had become his life. Years later, their fathers had seen fit to ally themselves and marriage between the clans made sense.



She’d borne him a child in their second year of marriage. By the time the third year rolled around, she was dead, his keep was in ruins, and his clan nearly decimated.



Aye, their wedding day had been a joyous occasion. They’d feasted and celebrated for three days. Her face had been alight with joy, and she’d ed the entire time.



Would Mairin smile? Or would she come to their marriage with those same wounded eyes she’d had when she arrived?



“Where is she, Papa?” Crispen whispered beside him. “Do you think she changed her mind?”



Ewan turned to smile at his son. He stroked his hand over the lad’s hair in a reassuring manner. “She’s just getting dressed, son. She’ll be here. She gave her word, and as you know, she puts great store in keeping her word. Women like to look their best on their wedding day.”



“But she’s beautiful already,” Crispen protested.



“That’s true,” Ewan said. And it was. The lass wasn’t just beautiful, she was enchanting. “But they like to look extra special for just such occasions.”



“Does she have flowers? She should have flowers.”



Ewan almost laughed at the look of consternation on Crispen’s face. His son was more nervous than he. Ewan wasn’t nervous. Nay, he was just impatient and ready to have it done with.



“You don’t have flowers?” Crispen asked.



Ewan looked down at his son. Crispen looked so appalled that Ewan frowned.



“I didn’t give flowers any thoughts. But perhaps you’re right. Why don’t you go take up the matter with Cormac.”



Across the room, Cormac had evidently been listening in on the conversation. He looked as appalled as Crispen had, and he hastily took a step back. But Crispen was too fast and was immediately in front of the man, demanding that they go collect flowers for Mairin.



He shot Ewan a disgruntled look as he allowed himself to be tugged from the great hall.



“What the hell is taking them so long?” Caelen demanded. He shifted restlessly in his chair and spread out his long legs as he slouched lower. “This is a waste of a good training day.”



Ewan chuckled. “I wouldn’t consider my wedding day to be a waste of time.”



“Of course you wouldn’t,” Alaric said. “While the rest of us are out sweating, you’ll be enjoying a warm, sweet lass.”



“He’ll be sweating,” Caelen said slyly. “Just not in the way the rest of us are.”



Ewan held up his hand to staunch the bawdy talk before it caught on with the rest of the men. The last thing he needed was his prospective bride to walk in and be embarrassed to her toes.



Just then Maddie burst in, her cheeks rosy and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.



“She’s coming, laird!”



Ewan glanced over at the priest, who was enjoying a mug of ale, and motioned him up. As Mairin rounded the corner, the entire hall stood in acknowledgment of her presence.



Ewan was momentarily struck dumb. The lass wasn’t just beautiful. She was utterly magnificent. Gone was the shy, somewhat awkward young woman and in her place was a lady with all the bearing of a descendent of royalty. She looked just like the princess she was.



She swept into the room, head held high, a look of serene calm on her face. Her hair was partially pulled into a knot just above her nape and the rest hung loose to her waist.



There was such a regal air about her presence, that Ewan suddenly felt unworthy.



Crispen burst into the room holding a wad of flowers so tightly that the stems were already limp and the flowers wilting as he flopped them about. He ran to Mairin and thrust them into her hands, petals scattering to the floor.



Her expression completely changed. Gone was the super-composed, cool woman. Her eyes warmed and she smiled tenderly down at his son. She leaned down to brush a kiss across his brow.



“Thank you, Crispen. They’re absolutely beautiful.”



Something twisted in the region of Ewan’s heart.



He stepped forward until he was just behind Crispen. He reached down to frame his hands over his son’s shoulders as he stared into Mairin’s blue eyes.



“The priest is waiting, lass,” he said gruffly.



She nodded then glanced down at Crispen. “Will you come with us, Crispen? After all, you’re very much a part of this ceremony.”



Crispen puffed out his chest until Ewan thought he might burst. Then he slipped his hand into Mairin’s. Ewan reached for the other, and she handed her flowers off to Maddie before sliding her fingers through his.



It felt right. Here was his family. His son and the woman who would be mother to him. He tugged her toward the waiting priest, as his two brothers came forward to flank Ewan and Mairin.



There in the protective hold of his family, he and Mairin exchanged their vows. She never wavered. Never gave any hint that she was anything but willing. She stared the priest in the eyes and then turned to look into Ewan’s, as she recited her promise to honor and obey.



When the priest declared them married, Ewan leaned in to seal their troth with a kiss. She hesitated a mere moment and then whispered, “You will not use your tongue!”



His laughter rang out over the hall. His clan looked eagerly for the source of his laughter, but he had eyes only for his new bride.