The Highlander’s Demand

by Wine, Mary

  There would be a larger church in the village, but no fortification was complete without a place dedicated to God. The priest was waiting for them in the doorway, his hands tucked into the wide arms of his simple robe.

  They stopped at the doorway, kneeling before the priest invited them into what was considered the House of God. In centuries past, most couples would receive the blessing of marriage at the doors, for only the completely devoted might enter the sanctuary. However, newer times brought different customs.

  Rhedyn heard footsteps behind them as the senior-ranking men of Clan Mackenzie crowded into the tiny space to witness the vows.

  She lost track of everything as the priest turned and sent her a piercing look designed to impress upon her the holy nature of the ceremony he was preparing to perform.

  Buchanan’s fingers tightened on hers, making her realize the look was for both of them. A strange sense of companionship blossomed inside her. It burned all the uncertainty away, leaving her feeling like she wasn’t alone for the first time since she’d left her father’s side. It wasn’t the look the priest gave them which gave her such a feeling. No, it rose up from the experience she’d had with Buchanan. She snuck another look at him, smiling.

  No, he wasn’t a villain.

  And she was going to marry him.

  *

  “Time to take the bride abovestairs.”

  Three cups of French wine still weren’t enough to dull the impact of those words. Rhedyn started to reach for her goblet as Fenella announced to everyone that it was time for the last part of the wedding celebration.

  The bedding.

  There was a ripple of amusement from the Retainers who were all packed onto the lower tables just waiting for the Head-of-House to appear and escort the bride away.

  Rhedyn stopped short of her goblet as she realized Buchanan was watching her. She flattened her hand on the table top and used it to push herself up.

  Courage…

  She’d chosen her path, and there was no point in hesitating.

  “Mistress,” Fenella said.

  She still wasn’t certain what to think of the Head-of-House. But there was a small smile on Fenella’s face, so there was no reason to sour the moment by holding grudges.

  Rhedyn followed her up four flights of stairs. These were wider than the ones in the north tower. The chamber at the top was grander as well.

  The laird’s chamber.

  Inside, there were two large arm chairs near the hearth. On one end of the chamber, there was the biggest bed Rhedyn had ever seen. If she lay in the center of it and stretched her arms out wide, she doubted her fingertips would reach the edges.

  “Now, there is no need to look so concerned,” Fenella said. She looked Rhedyn up and down. “Ye are no’ too young to not have been told a thing or two about what to expect on yer wedding night.”

  Rhedyn held her hands up. “I am well informed. Thank ye, Fenella.”

  A look of relief crossed the servant’s face. Rhedyn was sure she appeared just about the same, but it was short lived, for two maids who had followed them began undressing her. They knew their duties and had the dress peeled away in mere moments. Rhedyn stood still, time tormenting her with just how long they might last as she forced herself to remain in place and not dash to the bed to cover herself. There was a cluster of older women near the door, and they had a duty to attend her.

  Witnesses.

  Rhedyn might have taken comfort in their presence if her father had given his blessing to the union. These were Mackenzie women, and she doubted any of them would defend her if Buchanan decided to annul their union on the basis of there being something unhealthy about her body.

  Still, forgoing the custom would have bred rumors. The women peered at her, two of them making a full circle around her before they nodded.

  “Into bed with ye,” Fenella said at last.

  It seemed Fenella wasn’t planning to hold grudges, either. The bedding smelled of rosemary and lavender. Just as it should. The two candles burning near the headboard were made of bee wax, the soft scent of honey mixing with the herbs. The maids leaned in to tuck the thick bedding up to her chin.

  They didn’t finish too soon. The men were coming up the stairs. Their voices were raised in song as they escorted the groom to the chamber.

  “Open the door for them,” Fenella ordered one of the maids.

  The entire party of half-drunken men fell into the room in a jumble of kilts and bare knees. They had Buchanan surrounded as they sang out the last verse of the song.

  “Ye’ve had yer fun now, lads.” Buchanan tried to work his way free.

  “But ye haven’t had yers!” Alpin exclaimed.

  Buchanan didn’t fare any better than she did when it came to his clothing. His men stripped it away, leaving him fighting to keep his shirt. She looked up at the canopy above the bed as they pushed him onto his back to take his boots as well.

  “Out!” he roared at them. “The lot of ye!”

  “I do nae know if me old knees can carry me,” Graham announced as he wheezed. “I might need to sit down and rest a bit…”

  The maids giggled before Fenella snapped her fingers and sent them scurrying out the door.

  “Follow them,” Buchanan ordered his men.

  Graham limped toward the door, each step slower than the last one, as the rest of the men made a mockery of assisting the elder. He finally made it to the doorway and leaned against it as he drew in a deep breath. But he winked at Buchanan and then disappeared a moment later.

  “Just wait until the lot of ye wed,” Buchanan grumbled.

  “So, ye’ve never escorted one of yer captains to their brides?”

  Rhedyn’s question seemed to surprise him. He stiffened before he turned to look at her.

  “I’m sorry, lass.” He stumbled across the floor and grabbed the length of his kilt, holding it up to cover his lower body. “I did no’ mean to startle ye.”

  “Yer shirt linen is not that thin,” Rhedyn remarked. Her clothing was laid over one of the chairs. She looked at her smock and dismissed the longing for it.

  Buchanan moved toward her clothing, plucking the undergarment from where it sat neatly folded. He carried it to the bed. “I do nae wish to have ye feeling uneasy, Rhedyn.”

  He laid the smock on the bed and turned his back.

  What she felt was surprise. She forced her frozen fingers to release the coverlet and reach for her undergarment. The bed ropes groaned as she moved and struggled to dress. Her bare feet made a slapping sound as she crawled out of the bed. She stood for a moment as the idea of walking around in nothing but her undergarment made her think about getting back into bed.

  Fenella had timed things perfectly. The sun had set, leaving the chamber lit by a few candles. The semi-darkness offered her a haven to hide in. Buchanan had shifted back toward the wall, near a window. The shutters were firmly shut against the evening chill. In spite of the thick wood covering, the bed had thick curtains. For now, they were pushed back and secured.

  “Are ye cold?” Buchanan asked.

  “No,” Rhedyn said quickly.

  “I was going to offer to light the hearth.”

  Rhedyn looked toward the neat stack of wood and kindling just waiting for a flint stone to be used to fire it.

  “Oh…of course ye were,” Rhedyn responded. “I didn’t want ye to waste the wood. Not when the weather is so fine and warm.”

  In truth, her feet were cold and her nipples were hard beneath the fabric of her smock. But her cheeks were hot and burned hotter when she realized she was looking down her body, and Buchanan wouldn’t miss the reason why.

  Would he fondle her breasts?

  She’d heard whispers about what lovers did. Lovers, well, they spent far more time going about their marital duty because they were indulging in the pleasures of the flesh.

  Do ye want him to handle yer breasts?

  Thank God for the dim light. It allowed her to hide her red ch
eeks.

  “What are ye thinking, Rhedyn?”

  Of course he asked. She was standing there in naught but her smock and biting her lower lip like a simpleton.

  “I was just noticing the effort Fenella put forth in preparing this chamber.” She couldn’t help but glance down at the bruises still fading from her arms.

  “She has seen the error of her ways,” Buchanan replied. “Yet, I still cannot abide her actions. If ye wish to replace her, I will not argue against it.”

  Rhedyn was stunned.

  “Ye think I would deny ye the authority of the mistress of this house?” Buchanan inquired as he watched her face.

  “I really hadn’t thought about it at all,” Rhedyn answered. “Things have happened rather suddenly.”

  “Ye’ve been educated in running a large house, have ye not?”

  “Of course.”

  “So, the timing of it all matters not.” He shrugged. “Fenella has run the house since me mother died. But she’s overburdened.”

  “Aye,” Rhedyn agreed. “This is such a large stronghold, the kitchens alone are a huge task. The books should be kept by someone else.”

  “By me wife,” Buchanan said firmly as he sent her a solid look.

  For a moment, they stared at each other, and Rhedyn felt like she was suspended between heartbeats. Just waiting for the next one to commence while she held her breath.

  Waiting.

  But for what, she wasn’t entirely sure. At least, she wasn’t quite clear on just how it all should begin. Did he kiss her first, or might she initiate since they were now wed? Should she lay on her back in obedience or touch him as the maids had whispered about in the kitchens? It was really very confusing, for none of the instruction she’d been given officially matched what she’d heard being spoken about.

  “Ye were correct about how thin linen is, lass.” Buchanan suddenly switched topics. He cocked his head and grinned. “At least it’s true until ye stand in front of a flame.”

  Rhedyn jumped away from the light cast by the candle. She was suddenly tongue-tied.

  What had made her think she should wed a man such as Buchanan?

  She realized the wine must have had more of a hold on her than she’d realized, for she had been so contently conversing with him while forgetting just where she was.

  It was her wedding night.

  And he had the right to do whatever he pleased with her. She’d given him that right when she spoke her vows.

  “Why did ye marry me, lass?”

  He hadn’t moved, and was still leaning against the wall. She realized he’d selected a spot half in the shadows, to mask his larger frame.

  He didn’t have to help her feel at ease.

  Rhedyn swallowed the lump in her throat. “Because ye were right.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “On what account, Rhedyn?”

  A small ripple of pleasure traveled across her skin as he spoke her name. It was so very intimate in his bedchamber. She drew in a deep breath and shrugged. “About Rolfe Munro’s kiss not moving me.” She watched his face as her words reached his ears.

  “Are ye admitting ye kissed me back?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  She had.

  And the knowledge burned away her current nervousness. She’d made her choice. The sense of awkwardness making her worry about the fabric of her smock suddenly felt ridiculous.

  “I’m twenty-three this summer.”

  Buchanan nodded. “It’s reasonable for Rolfe Munro to be at yer father’s table. Ye are no’ a girl.”

  But she felt like she was acting like one. “Me father has no one except me and Bree. He was in no hurry to see us off to our own households.”

  Yet it would have happened soon.

  And now it had.

  Rhedyn stared at Buchanan.

  Her groom…

  For the better part of the last ten years, the topic of marriage had always been on the tip of people’s tongues. Advice, warnings, and predictions. All of it aimed toward the moment she’d stand right where she was.

  “Ye are being kind,” she said softly. “Waiting on me.”

  Buchanan straightened up. “Well, I’ve never actually shared a bed with a woman, either.”

  “Ye are no virgin,” Rhedyn declared. “No with the way ye kiss.”

  His bare feet made a soft sound against the floor as he closed the distance between them. “No. But me bed…I never brought a lass here because it would be the place I shared with my wife.”

  He stopped a pace from her. In the semidarkness of the chamber, he was almost mythical, cast in silver and darkness. It was a whimsical thought, but she decided she enjoyed it greatly.

  She flattened her hands on his chest. Her fingertips felt the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Rising up onto her toes, she aimed for his mouth. He met her more than halfway, the façade of patience shattering the moment she touched him.

  He kissed her slowly at first. Allowing her to move against him as he closed his arms around her. The embrace sent a shiver down her back as she sought a firmer connection with his mouth.

  Buchanan didn’t deny her. His hand cradled the back of her head as he tilted his own to the side so their mouths might fit together. The kiss changed, becoming demanding, but she discovered that she wanted to demand things of him, too.

  She pressed up against him, marveling at the way her body appeared to be softer so that it might mesh with his completely.

  Buchanan trailed his lips down the side of her jaw, and she gasped for breath. Her heart was hammering away, making her lightheaded. And she didn’t care a bit. All that seemed to matter was touching him. There was so much of his body she wanted to slide her hands over. He was solid, delighting her in a way she’d never realized she might find enjoyment in.

  And he seemed to find her body just as worthy of touching. He slid his hands down her sides until he closed his hands on each of her hips. She jerked, a jolt of sensation going through her lower body. It was sharp and intense, leaving behind a throbbing at the top of her sex.

  “Do ye want me to stop, lass?”

  His question made her open her eyes.

  “I will respect yer wishes.”

  She gazed sincerely at him, realizing he could be trusted in every way.

  But there was something else, too. And that glint of heat was what she truly craved. It seemed to mirror something inside her. A need she’d never realized she yearned to feed.

  “I married ye,” she said. It was as if she’d suddenly burst into flames, but instead of pain, there was a delicious pleasure to be experienced.

  His lips twitched. This grin wasn’t the sort she’d ever seen before. This was a promise, one he completed by tugging at the fabric of her smock. He pulled it up and over her head. The coolness of the room felt pleasant on her bare skin.

  “Aye, ye married me…wife.”

  Buchanan scooped her off her feet. The bedding was still pushed to one side from when she’d climbed out of it. He laid her down and ripped his shirt off in nearly the same moment. The bed rocked as he joined her on its soft surface.

  And then he was lowering himself down. Their skin felt so amazing as it connected. A sound of pure enjoyment escaped her lips. Normally, she would have tried to contain such a thing, but now, there was no controlling anything. There seemed to only be the yearning burning inside her and Buchanan; the thing she needed to satisfy her need.

  He cupped one breast, sending her arching. But not away from him, into him, and she wanted to offer herself up to his touch.

  “Ye are not timid, Rhedyn,” he muttered as his mouth hovered over her nipple.

  She locked gazes with him. “I am not.”

  He brushed his thumb across her nipple. She gasped, stunned by the intensity of the contact.

  “Never change, lass,” he muttered his last words as he bent down and licked her.

  The little nub tightened more as she withered with enjoyment. Pleasure was flowing down
her body to the top of her sex. Encased between the folds of it was a pulsing point that begged for attention.

  Buchanan appeared to know it. He smoothed his hand down her body, across her ribs, and onto her belly. She’d never realized she might enjoy a touch so much. She closed her eyes as she surrendered completely to the moment.

  But Buchanan intended to go lower.

  “What are ye doing?” she asked, opening her eyes.

  The question just sailed out of her astonishment. His fingers were resting on the curls that crowned her sex.

  “I’m planning to tease ye, wife.”

  His eyes glittered with glee, alarming her almost as much as the sight of him so close to her sex kindled a wave of anticipation.

  “Why?”

  It was the sort of question she should never have voiced. It was personal and indecent, and she looked away as she realized the deed was already done.

  Buchanan chuckled. “Look at me, Rhedyn.”

  His fingers moved, sending little prickles of delight through her. Part of her wanted to refuse, so she might maintain her sense of dignity.

  But she realized she didn’t want to have anything negative between them. In fact, the mere thought of placing a barrier between them made her snap her head back so their gazes met. What she seemed to crave at that moment was complete intimacy.

  He sent her a pleased look. “I’m going to tease ye so yer insides are hot and ready for me.”

  His words made her bite her lower lip. And he kissed her hard. It was a hungry kiss, one that showed her just how controlled he’d been before. Now, he let her feel his hunger, and she reached for his head, pushing her fingers through his hair in an attempt to hold onto him.

  “I don’t think I can stand to be any hotter, Buchanan.”

  “Ye can, I swear it.”

  He didn’t explain more, but nuzzled against her throat for a moment, teasing the delicate skin of her neck with kisses. Nothing mattered beyond experiencing the moment. She was floating, surrounded by sensations so enjoyable, there was no reason to think.

  There was only reacting.

  Buchanan pulled one taut nipple into his mouth. His fingers moved on her mons, toying with the hairs. The sensitive spot at the top of her sex that had been throbbing was now insistent with need.