by Alisa Adams
Tavia looked up guiltily. As far as Maureen was concerned, any dalliance between the Laird and her daughter had ended weeks ago. Her dark eyes glittered with anger as she glared at Tavia, and it looked for a moment as though she would strike her, although she had never done so before.
Suddenly something inside Tavia snapped. She knew who she loved and wanted, and he wanted her too. They were young, free, and made for each other, and she realized the only thing stopping them from being together was their own unwillingness to confront the obstacles in front of them.
“Mammy,” she said calmly, “Blair and I are going to be wed.”
Blair had stood up behind Tavia and put his hands on her shoulders.
“We are, Mistress Donald,” he confirmed. “I love Tavvy and she loves me, and we will marry with or without your blessing, but we would much rather you gave us your approval.”
All the fight went out of Maureen and she sat heavily on a kitchen chair and sighed. “Let me tell ye somethin’, Tavvy. Yer faither’s sister aye had ideas above her station,” Maureen said sadly. “She didnae aim as high as a laird but she polished her manners an’ changed the way she talked, then she merrit a gentleman farmer. She loved him, but she was that bonnie she could hae won ony man she liked. But David Mearns wis a nasty bit o’ work. He listened tae a rumor that she had been unfaithful—it wisnae true, mind, but he wanted tae believe it because she wisnae gein’ him ony babbies. He needed her oot o’ the way so he could wed again, ye see.
“He beat her black an’ blue an’ she died the next day. He wis hanged, but that didnae bring poor Mhairi back.” Her voice was bitter but resigned. Then she looked Tavia in the eye. “That is the reason yer faither doesnae want ye tae marry the Laird. That is why he lost his faith in God. This a’ happened jist afore ye came tae us, so ye came tae us jist at the right time, Tavvy.”
Tavia sat down, shocked to the core. “Why did I not know this?” she asked in disbelief. “Why did he not tell me?”
“Because he did not want you to be afraid of all men,” Blair suggested. “Is that not right, Mistress Donald?”
Maureen nodded silently.
“Because there are more good men than bad,” he went on, “and I promise, Mistress Donald, I am a good man. I would never hurt Tavvy. I would rather cut my hand off than harm a hair on her head.”
“And how do we know you mean that?” asked Archie from behind him. “Fine words, but some men would do anything to get a woman into the marriage bed—or any other bed, for that matter.” His face and voice were grim.
“Because Tavvy knows I would do anything for her,” Blair said evenly. “You trust her, do you not?”
“And I will marry Blair,” Tavia said defiantly. Her cheeks were flushed and her hazel eyes dark with determination. “But I do not want to have to choose between my parents and my husband.”
Archie gazed thoughtfully at both of them for a moment, then suddenly Blair snapped. “Bring me a Bible,” he growled. “And I will show you how much I want to marry Tavia.”
Maureen scurried off to get one, then put it down on the table at Blair’s right hand.
He placed it on the book, and Tavia laughed inwardly as she saw that his hand almost covered it. As always, she was amazed at his sheer size; he was a very big man, a man whom she knew would defend her to the death.
“I, Blair Colin Patterson, swear on the blood of Christ that I will never harm Tavia Donald in any way, by word or deed, and may God strike me down dead if I break my oath.”
Maureen and Tavia crossed themselves, but the two men stood glaring at each other like two stags fighting over a doe. Finally Archie sighed and sat down. He looked at Maureen, who nodded slightly.
“You have our blessing,” Archie said at last. He shook Blair’s hand wordlessly, kissed Tavia on the cheek, then left. Blair hugged Maureen tightly and she coughed as he tightened his embrace. “Stop!” she choked. “Ye’re breakin’ ma ribs, ya big galoot!”
Blair let go of her immediately and stepped back, looking shocked. “I am so sorry, Mistress. I do not know my own strength.”
Maureen laughed. “‘Twid take mair than a wee thing like yersel tae hurt me!” She laughed.
Tavia looked him up and down, seeing a square-jawed, bristly, six-foot-two package of solid muscle. “You are the biggest wee thing I have ever seen!” she laughed.
Maureen poured them some ale, then left to see to a customer.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered, looking lovingly into her eyes.
“And so do you,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair back behind his ear. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, and she gazed at him.
He sighed. “I must get back,” he said sadly. “Come with me.”
“I have to—” she began, but she was interrupted.
“Gan wi’ him, Tavvy,” Maureen said, smiling. She rejoiced to see her daughter looking so happy as she sat holding the hand of the man she loved, gazing at him as if she could not look away. “Ye will only daydream a’ day onyway. Shoo, the baith o’ye!”
Blair needed no second bidding. He scooped Tavia into his arms and lifted her onto his big horse, then leaped up behind her, giving a triumphant whoop as they rode away. Maureen looked after them fondly. Unlike Archie, she had no doubts.
Tavia felt as though her whole being was one great bubble of joy. She was riding in front of Blair, the outside of her thighs pressed to the inside of his, and his hands were gripping the reins, but at the same time his arms were around her, holding her against him. From time to time he would press kisses into the angle of her neck and shoulder, and murmur endearments into her ear. She could have stayed in the saddle with him all day.
At last they got to the castle. Patterson Castle overlooked the village of Auchnasaig like a sentinel, due to its location on top of a steep-sided hill. The slope was so precipitous that the castle could only be approached from the shallower slope behind it, meaning that defense was much easier, since it could only be attacked from one side. The road leading up to it had many loops and twists to lessen the angle of the climb, and although it was less than a mile away from the village as the crow flies, it took them almost an hour to reach it.
Although she had been there many times, Tavia was always amazed by its sheer size. It was a round structure, with six circular walls fitting one inside the other, each crenellated and pierced by loopholes that archers could fire through. The main entrance led into a circular courtyard which ran all around the castle, and here stood the stables, extended for a few hundred yards along the inner wall. The outermost wall was thick and high, and had a portcullis and a huge thick oak gate in it.
Blair dismounted and helped her down, but instead of letting her go he drew her into a long, tender, lingering kiss which made her whole body tremble. At that moment she would have surrendered to him, here in the straw of the stable floor with the horses looking on, but there were too many stable hands about. They were all fascinated by the sight of their Laird embroiled in a passionate kiss with this lovely young woman, and stood watching avidly.
When he drew away from Tavia, Blair looked around at all of them. “Seen enough?” he asked, but his mouth had twitched into a smile. “Never seen a man kissing his beloved before?”
They stood, dumbstruck, as the couple walked away, but in ten minutes it was all over the castle.
Tavia and Catriona looked at one another as if each had seen a ghost. They were not identical by any means, but there was no mistaking the striking family resemblance between them. They could have been sisters.
“My God!” Catriona said in disbelief as she put her hand over her mouth in shock. “You look just like Gavina!” She walked forward, up close to Tavia, then stopped a few feet away and touched her cheek. “The same wee freckles,” she laughed softly. “What is your name?”
“Tavia Donald,” Tavia replied, smiling, “but you can call me Tavvy.”
“Catriona,” the other woman said, returning the smile. She held out he
r arms. “May I hug you?”
Tavia said nothing, but gathered Catriona gently into her arms. She felt the huge bulge of the unborn child against her and wondered how long it would be before she herself became pregnant.
They embraced each other for a moment, but when they drew apart, Catriona held onto Tavia’s hand as they walked into the dining room. There was a huge spread of delectable food there, but Catriona took one look at it and turned away.
“I cannot eat,” she groaned. “If I do, I will be sick.”
“I have prepared a bedroom,” Blair said. “Perhaps you would like to rest?”
Catriona nodded gratefully and Blair called a maid to show them the way. Alan and Camden went with them. Camden, a mischievous little red-haired boy, had gone to sleep with his mother.
Tavia was both surprised and saddened at Catriona’s sudden departure, as they were just introduced to one another only moments ago.
“Is she well?” Blair asked anxiously when Alan came downstairs.
“She is exhausted, nothing more,” Alan replied.
Tavia frowned. She was sure that there was more to Catriona’s condition than met the eye.
The two men fell to drinking whisky and ale, comparing their common interests of hunting and bemoaning the state of agricultural prospects in the Highlands, a favorite gripe of most farmers.
After an hour, they heard a sudden scream from upstairs and Camden came hurtling downstairs, his eyes wide with fright. “There is something wrong with Mammy!” he cried. “She’s sick! She has a sore stomach!”
Tavia ran upstairs as fast as her legs would carry her. Camden clung to Alan’s legs making it impossible to follow her, but Blair bent down and picked him up.
“Shhh…” he said soothingly. “Mammy will be fine. Tavvy is a healer and she is looking after her.”
The little boy was crying bitterly and clung to Blair. He felt warm, and his skin was so soft, his hair so downy; there was nothing yet of the man he would become. All of a sudden Blair felt a wave of tenderness sweep over him as he reflected that this must be what it felt like to have a child of his own, a little being who was utterly dependent on him. Blair felt strong suddenly. This must be what all fathers feel like, he thought in wonder.
There were a great many blood curdling screams coming from the birthing room. Camden had been taken away to a distant bedroom and a maid assigned to look after him. The men waited silently, and Blair had to stop Alan from overindulging in his best single malt whisky. After one particularly horrific scream, Blair winced and asked, “Is it always like this?”
Alan nodded and sighed. “It was the last time,” he said wearily. “I wanted to be in the room with her but the midwife had two guards take me away. She said she had seen too many fathers fainting!”
He laughed sheepishly, and at that moment they heard a heartrending newborn cry from upstairs. The birth was over, and a new life had begun.
16
Sleeping and Talking
The baby was a huge healthy boy, and looked very indignant about being dragged out of his warm, dark, and peaceful home. Tavia cut the cord, wrapped him in a blanket, and placed the little screaming bundle onto his mother’s stomach. She delivered the afterbirth then allowed Alan to go in.
Blair was waiting a little way along the corridor, his arms folded, appearing to be deep in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
He jumped, then laughed ruefully. “You, me, and our future baby,” he admitted. Then his expression changed to one of concern. “Is it always like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “Always. But we have not yet married, so do not speak about conceiving a baby!” She laughed.
“I hate to think of you going through all that pain,” he said, frowning before gathering her into his arms. “I cannot bear the thought of it.”
She sighed. “Neither can I, but it has to be done!”
“You women are so brave,” he said softly. “We men never realize how much.”
Tavia yawned. “I am so tired,” she whispered.
Blair looked outside. The sky was pitch black and studded with stars; it was the very middle of the night.
“Would you like to come to my bed?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Just to sleep and keep each other warm.”
She nodded. “I would love to,” she said. “And if your hands should wander a little I will not care too much.”
“You are wicked!” he laughed.
“I know,” she whispered. “But please do not tell anyone!”
He took her hand, and it seemed as if they walked for miles. She had been in his bedroom many times before, of course, but not in this intimate situation.
The room was paneled in dark ebony, and the four-poster bed was hung with a stark white canopy and coverlets without any embellishment of embroidery or lace. The only color in the room came from the bright hangings of hunting scenes, with horses and dogs chasing stags and does across the sparse Highland grass. However, there were gorgeous plaster mouldings on the ceiling, and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung from the central rosette. Three candelabras held six candles each, but Blair lit the candles on only one of them, and the room was suffused with a soft light.
They stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment.
“I do not have a nightgown with me,” she said shyly.
“I only have one,” he replied. “But I hardly ever wear it. Borrow it if you wish.”
She thought for a second.
“Or you could do without,” he whispered.
“I am sure that is sinful,” Tavia said mischievously. “It sounds sinful.”
He grinned. “All the best things are.” He turned her around and began to unlace the back of her dress slowly, as if he were opening a precious gift. She made no resistance, but submitted to his ministrations meekly, as if she had no will of her own.
He ran his fingertips over her shoulders, then down her spine, and she shivered in delight, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh.
He laughed softly. “Are you cold, Tavvy?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Not cold, M’Laird.”
He turned her around and her dress fell around her feet. Her pert breasts sprang free, and he gave a sigh of satisfaction as he looked at them. “How beautiful,” he whispered, as he cupped them in his hands and teased the nipples with his thumbs. “You are so lovely.” He stood back to admire her and felt his body clench with desire. She had a tiny waist, and her womanly hips flared out from it in a delightful curve that led to the long shapely columns of her thighs, with a little bush of fair hair marking her most secret place.
She was a small woman, but every inch of her was gorgeous. “Do you trust me?” he asked, looking into her soft hazel eyes. “Do you trust me not to force myself on you? You can still sleep elsewhere.”
“Yes, I do trust you,” she replied, her voice a husky whisper. “And I will sleep here, with you, so that we can be near each other.”
Blair went over to the bed and drew back the bedclothes for her. The sheets were icy cold and she shivered, but she warmed up as she saw him undress. Everything about him was so much bigger than she had imagined, from the width of his shoulders, to the size of his broad chest, to the toned muscles of his upper arms, and especially his hugely powerful thighs. She tried not to look at his aroused manhood, and fortunately he moved to get into bed beside her.
“You are cold,” he murmured.
“I am,” Tavia agreed. He pulled her close and they lay together, skin to skin, sharing their body heat with each other. He began to rub her arms and legs briskly till she was warm and tingling, then kissed her lips, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers, at the same time rubbing his body against hers. She could hear him breathe heavily as he became more passionate, but she was not afraid. He had given her his word, and that was enough. She trusted him absolutely.
Blair felt as frustrated as he was aroused, sinc
e he knew that he would never be able to take this encounter to its ultimate fulfillment. He caressed her breasts, kissing and licking her nipples, then he nibbled and kissed her all the way down to her navel.
She lay back and arched her hips up to him instinctively, hoping that he would do what he had done last time, but this time he did something different, using flicking movements of his tongue to bring her to a shattering climax. She was stunned, having never imagined that such an experience was possible. Every nerve ending in her body was alive and too sensitive to his touch so that when he ran his hands down her thighs she shivered with delight.
He watched the wonder in her eyes as she came back down to Earth, then rolled her sideways into his arms. “Are you warm now, Tavvy?” he asked. She nodded, burying her face in the soft nest between his shoulder and neck.
She sighed in satisfaction as her eyes drifted closed, and a few moments later so did his.
When she woke up the next morning, Tavia did not quite realize where she was, then she turned her head and saw him smiling at her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
“I have no idea,” she murmured, smiling. “I cannot remember a thing since last night.”
“I have to go out,” he whispered. “I received a message that one of the mares is foaling and for some strange reason my help is needed, but I would much rather stay here with you.”
“I also have things to do,” she said reluctantly. “I need to see if the baby is all right, then I have to go home.”
“Now that I am officially your betrothed,” he said, smiling and kissing her hand, “I reserve the right to see you whenever I please, so I will come down this afternoon.”
“I am so glad,” she replied softly, then her tone became brisk. “I have to go and see the new mammy.”
