by Mary Wine
“Feuds have been settled for years in the Highlands by weddings,” Rolfe explained.
“That does not make it easier.”
He stroked her cheek again. “Nae.” He slid his hand into her hair and cupped her nape. It made her very aware of his strength, of the fact that he could crush her throat if he cared to. The fact that he held her like an egg made her feel cherished.
So unexpectedly tender.
He leaned down and kissed her, and she stretched up onto her toes to press herself against him. Desire began to pulse through her. Inside the chamber, she could give it free rein. It took him longer to disrobe, since all she had on was her dressing robe.
“Ye are so beautiful…” His voice was full of awe. He stood back for a moment, sweeping his eyes over her from head to toe. Words paled next to the way his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. It was the sort of compliment no words could truly express. It was there in his expression, and Katherine felt her insides tightening in response.
She liked the way he looked, too. All hard, with his member rising as need built between them. It was strange the way her senses became keener when he was near. Now, she could feel her heart accelerating and hear the way his breathing began to rasp between his teeth.
That was another compliment that might be savage, but it suited her well.
“Touch me,” he said. “Come to me because ye want to be here.”
She’d never heard him sound so needy before. It hit her in the heart as she struggled to accept that beneath his hardened exterior was a person with doubts, just like her.
“We are more alike than ye think, lass,” he explained. “For all that I appreciate ye seeing me as a man who is capable, the truth is I wonder if I will ever please me father, me clan, or anyone else in this life. And I wonder why I can nae seem to do so.”
She ended up smiling at him, moving toward him and feeling as if she was approaching the only safe haven in a storm. He cupped her shoulders, smoothing his hands down her arms. She reached down and handled his member, teasing it with soft strokes of her fingers. For a moment, they stood there, petting each other and fanning the flames of desire.
“We should make a habit of retiring early.”
He grinned at her through gritted teeth. “Aye…” he groaned.
A sense of victory went through her, for drawing that tone from him. So many times, she had writhed beneath his touch; now she wanted to prove that she was every bit as much his match.
So she slid to her knees.
“Kat.”
He didn’t get another word out before she’d opened her mouth and licked the top of his member.
He jerked, but he’d caught a handful of her hair and kept her in place as she licked him again and again before opening her mouth to seal her lips around the head of his cock.
“Christ almighty…”
He was hissing as he strained and arched, pushing his member farther into her mouth. She took it, using her tongue to stroke it as he did when he lapped her slit. It seemed to reduce him to the same state of mindless pleasure, so she continued sucking, licking, and using her hands to stroke him. His breathing became rougher, his member hardening even more. She tasted the first drop of his seed and licked it away from the slit on the top of his cock.
“Nae…” He pulled her away, tightening his grip when she tried to resume. “Ye’ll unman me.”
“You do so to me often,” she argued.
Rolfe bent down and scooped her off her knees. That quickly, control shifted between them once more. He cradled her, proving how much stronger he was, but the look in his eyes when he came down on top of her—she’d put that glitter there.
“But I’ll no’ leave ye unsatisfied, lass.”
He sank into her body. She arched and purred with pleasure, reaching up to lock her hands on his shoulders. He pulled free and thrust into her with a slow, unhurried motion that left her eager for more friction.
“Nae, never unsatisfied…” he muttered in a tight voice.
She realized he was fighting back the urge to pound her hard, taking the time to build the urgency until she was bucking beneath him, every bit as eager for a hard ride as he was.
Pleasure shook them both, like trees in a summer thunderstorm. They had no choice except to dance under the power of the wind as they shuddered and collapsed in a breathless heap.
Rolfe rolled back toward her sometime later, after they had both cooled enough to touch. Now, he folded her against him as he lay behind her, his hand cupping her breast like it was a treasure.
“When you touch me, I forget why this cannot work.”
He rose up and looked down at her. “Does that mean ye are nae going to swing that pitcher at me?”
She snorted and sent a jab at his lower belly. He curled up, faking fear.
“It would serve you right if I did.”
Rolfe left the bed, stopping to put on his shirt before he went across the bedchamber and into the outer one. He looked back at her. “I want to show ye something.”
There was a serious note in his voice. She left the bed, plucking her chemise from the floor as she went. He’d pulled something from a leather case hanging near one of the wardrobes. It was a rolled parchment that crinkled when he opened it. He kept it flat on the table by setting the pitcher on top of it.
Katherine read it through twice before she looked up at him. “My stepmother offered a dowry for me?”
“Marcus as well,” Rolfe confirmed. “Ye are quite the heiress, lass, and interestingly enough, worth more in the Highlands than in England. Yer stepmother made it a condition of this dowry that I take ye north and keep ye here.”
“But…” She walked a bit away from him, unable to stand still. “Why haven’t you told your father? It would quiet him.”
“I know.” Rolfe answered her swiftly and in a tone that made it clear he had no liking for the fact. “Yet if I did so, ye would always doubt I wanted ye for my wife no matter what ye brought me.”
She stood there stunned, feeling as though he had plunged a dagger straight through her heart. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, falling down her cheeks in hot drops.
“Oh Christ.” He looked toward the ceiling but then back at her, jumping forward to wrap her in his arms. “That was meant to please ye. I swear it.”
She wiggled against him, pushing until he released her with a frustrated snort.
“You did.”
Rolfe stared at her, trying to decide if he believed her. “Ye are weeping.”
“With joy.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in that way men often did when they were completely confounded by a woman’s logic.
Katherine smiled at him. “I didn’t think there was any possible way for you to prove such a thing.”
He nodded firmly. “I’ll tear the parchment up if ye like, Katherine.”
“No,” she responded with a wicked grin. “I cannot wait to see your father’s face when you present it to him.”
Rolfe slowly curled his lips back, offering her a menacing grin that promised William McTavish hell.
“I love you.”
His grin faded in response, his expression becoming serious. He moved toward her, folding her back into his embrace. “As I love ye, lass.”
“I am still not going to become the model of a good wife.”
He stroked the side of her cheek and locked gazes with her. “I suppose that all depends on what a man thinks a perfect wife should be. For meself, I fancy hellions.”
* * *
“And the Earl of Morton will retire from the office of regency.”
Morton glared at the man reading the list of demands from the Earls of Gowrie and Angus. But they had the king. Part of him was relieved to know the young James was locked away from the newly arrived Lennox.
&
nbsp; Lennox clearly intended to draw the king into a carnal relationship. Morton curled his lips in disgust at the idea. Men coupling with men—it turned his stomach.
He nodded. “Long live the King!”
Everyone seemed to expect more resistance from him. Morton gladly disappointed them. It was never wise to allow anyone to know too much about himself. He walked past the counselors who had answered to him for almost a decade, and didn’t care for the way they only half lowered themselves now that it was clear he was leaving.
It wasn’t until he was a day’s ride from the city that he drew his horse up and realized something.
The damned castle stank.
He drew in a second breath and let it out slowly. When he reached his estate, he was going to lay out new gardens. Anything to get outside. He’d spent too much time indoors. Scotland would have to be content with his efforts.
Of course, not everyone viewed him as a champion of Scotland. No, many saw him as a monster. They sought vengeance, now that they believed him in a position they might strike at.
Morton grinned. Let them try. For he might not be regent any longer, but he was still a Douglas.
* * *
Gordon land
Diocail pulled his horse up, raising his hand to let his retainers know he was stopping. Ahead of him was the Gordon stronghold. Half of it was dark stone, giving the place a sinister look. His horse seemed to sense it, dancing from side to side. Diocail reached down and patted the stallion’s neck soothingly.
“Wondering if they are going to welcome ye back?”
Diocail flashed a grin at his captain. Muir was a few years older than he was and had a calm demeanor that Diocail liked. The man also had a keen wit that was helpful.
The wind had whipped up, promising cooler days as summer neared its end. The breeze also carried the sound of a bell ringing. It was joined by another and then more.
“It seems they are ringing a fine welcome for ye, Laird.”
Diocail closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he let the sound seep into his soul.
“Let’s go home, lads!”
And he had every intention of making it a home. One that had everything he had never known but heard good men craved.
Home, hearth, and family.
He’d spent most of his life living for the moment when such treasures might be his. Today, he would begin building those dreams and forging them into reality. It would not be easy, especially not for a man who had only heard of a loving family. His mother had taught him of love, but she’d died a long time ago, leaving it a distant memory.
He was going to brighten that recollection and polish it, so he’d know the woman who would help him create a family when he met her. A good woman, strong like Katherine, willing to look at him with love in her eyes.
He’d find her.
Somewhere.
* * *
“I made this tart for you, dearest Father.”
Katherine made sure her accent was very English as she delivered the misshapen pastry to Laird McTavish.
William snorted before pushing it onto the floor. His hounds jumped up and immediately began to lap up the mess.
“Oh dear,” Katherine exclaimed. “Are your hands trembling? Age is such a burden. Shall I fetch you a tonic?”
“I do nae need it. Me hands are as steady as a young lad’s,” William exclaimed. “I can assure ye, me daughter Joan did nae go to her betrothed with the lack of skill that ye have.”
“Yes, I am English, after all.”
Katherine shot him a pleased smile before she left the great hall. Adwin was nearly purple with holding in his mirth. Most of the retainers had taken to making sure they were in the hall when supper was served, because Katherine would never fail to try to please her father by marriage.
“Ye’re devious, woman.” Niul spoke from where he’d been watching her from the doorway of the kitchen. “If me brother comes over that table and locks his hands around yer neck…”
“We will make quite the spectacle sprawled upon the floor,” Katherine finished.
Niul raised his mug to her. “I thought ye could nae run a house.”
Katherine shrugged. “I am learning.”
“Did ye make that tart?”
She winked at him. “I did. So I shall apologize to the hounds later.”
He grinned at her, but his attention lowered to her belly. She wasn’t very far along, but the news that she’d conceived spread fast. Even William had looked pleased by the announcement that she was breeding.
If a toad could appear in any way pleasant, that was.
“Why have you never wed?”
It really wasn’t her concern, and yet she’d decided that she liked Niul. At that moment, he offered her the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face, and it dawned on her that his smile was a shield.
“Ye may have noticed how me brother feels about being in control,” Niul said. “I am bastard born, and William plans to keep the legitimate line of this family for himself.”
She heard the lament in his voice and found herself drawn to him. “His grip has been loosened.”
Niul contemplated her for a long moment.
“I do believe my husband would welcome the news of your wedding.”
“Ye’ve convinced a woman to take ye to husband?” Rolfe asked as he came through the doorway behind her.
Niul stiffened. Rolfe didn’t miss it. For a long moment, they looked at each other.
“I would toast to yer happiness, Uncle.”
It took a moment before Niul’s lips parted in a grin. “And I will gladly pledge me sword to ye and yer father for all of me days.”
There were smiles all around the kitchen, even as the staff tried to appear as though they were not listening. Rolfe caught Katherine around her waist, settling his hands over her belly.
“There is nothing to feel yet,” she advised him softly. Her husband was obsessed with her condition, petting her belly and speaking to their unborn babe every night before he slept.
“I disagree, Kat,” her husband whispered against her ear. “I feel the love ye bring to this hall.”
“Your father seems to be moved by it.”
Rolfe snorted against her ear. “Aye. Do I want to know why his hounds are vomiting in front of the hearth?”
“I am improving,” she offered. “Last month they wouldn’t eat it at all. The maid had to scoop it up.”
“I see.” Her husband was choking on his amusement. “Planning to wear him down?”
“Precisely.”
Rolfe laughed out loud before kissing the side of her neck and releasing her. He winked before disappearing around the doorframe, his kilt pleats swaying as he went. The breeze was brisk now, fall fully upon them. All around her, the last of the harvest was waiting to be sorted and stored for winter. The kitchen was full of activity, and even with her limited skills, there was plenty of work for her to do. Ceit seemed to possess a great deal of patience when it came to tutoring her.
Katherine went to pluck an apron off a hook and tie it around her waist to return to work.
She thought she felt something flutter inside her. It was soft and yet persistent. She stood for a long moment, trying to make sense of it, and then it came again.
Tap-tap-tap.
Soft and yet undeniably there. Like a little jab on the inside of her womb.
“Are ye feeling the babe?” Ceit asked excitedly. The Head of House wiped her hands on her apron and hurried over to lay her hand against Katherine’s belly.
“I think…perhaps I did.” And her voice was filled with the wonder of it. She’d known she was with child, had known the moment she began being sick every morning within moments of opening her eyes. Yet now, it was suddenly so much more real as she felt the little poking motion onc
e again, laughing with joy.
“If ye feel it already, it’s a strong babe for certain,” Ceit exclaimed with her eyes sparkling. “Like his mother.”
Katherine realized that at last, her need for strength had somehow merged with her gender. It was true she could not turn a loaf of bread very well or seem to get the proportions correct on a tart, but as the months passed, she swelled round and large, and when her labor came, pushing her babe into the world was just another challenge she was ready to face. Fear was not something she allowed to spoil the experience.
Her son came into the world howling, his body pink and all of his limbs waving in fury at being forced from her womb. Katherine laughed through the pain, happily cradling her son as he gulped air for the first time. The pain was more a welcome for her child than a misery to be endured. Every contraction brought her closer to meeting her child, so she smiled when they began and gritted her teeth as they intensified. She sweated and groaned when at last she felt the baby leaving her womb, bearing down as the midwife ordered her to.
And then, there was only the excitement of meeting her son. They wiped him clean, soothing him as he opened his eyes and looked for her. There was a small army of women in the chamber who swaddled the baby and cleaned away the evidence of birth, wiping her down with damp cloths before they gave her a clean smock to wear.
She was sitting on the edge of their bed when Rolfe was let into the chamber at last.
He rushed toward her, his face lit with excitement.
William was right on his heels. The old goat even appeared to be grinning.
“No’ a single scream,” her father-in-law commended her. “Ye are fearless, lass, and as strong as a Valkyrie.”
“What do ye expect from a hellion?” Rolfe asked his father in a hushed tone. He was cradling his son, looking awkward as he tried to make certain he wasn’t hurting the infant. Ceit corrected his arms, a happy smile on her lips.
“A grandson,” William answered. “And so ye have delivered one to the McTavish.”
Happiness shimmered in his eyes. Rolfe allowed him to hold the baby.
It seemed she’d found her place after all, for it certainly took a hellion to bring together the McTavish laird and his son.
