The Gift: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Claire, I’m not ready to leave yet.”

  “I know. And I’m not suggesting that ye go immediately. For now it would be enough if ye just don’t set yerself against the idea.”

  He frowned. “Is this the real reason ye agreed to this betrothal?”

  She laughed. “Nay, it isn’t. Before I realized I loved Tavish, I was prepared to walk away. And Coll would have allowed it. He really does care about us. That’s why I know if ye dig in yer heels, he isn’t likely to push ye. But that’s also the reason I’m asking ye to consider what ye can do to help him and our clan.”

  His expression softened. “When ye put it that way it’s hard to say no.”

  She grinned. “Good.”

  ~ * ~

  On the day of the wedding Cassie awoke when Kenna called, “Good morning, Lady Claire,” as she bustled into the room before dawn.

  Cassie had never been one to sleep the day away, but even in her old life she’d avoided waking before sunrise at all costs. But she was becoming used to this. Much farther north than Baltimore, the sun rose later and set earlier. Tavish had told her that by the winter solstice there would be less than seven hours of daylight. So, even though the sky was still dark, she knew it wasn’t terribly early.

  She yawned and stretched. “Good morning, Kenna.” She started to get out of her cozy bed, then shivered and pulled the covers up again. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “Aye. A raw wind is blowing from the west this morning. Stay in bed until I have the fire built up. Then I’ll bring ye up a tray of food. When ye’ve finished breaking yer fast, I’ll have the water brought up fer yer bath. The chamber should be warm enough by then.”

  “Thank ye.” Cassie smiled remembering the day she’d met Kenna. The girl had said she didn’t know how to be a lady’s maid, but she had certainly learned quickly. Cassie adored her and considered her a friend. However, just as Lady Ranald had said, it’s impossible not to feel a bit of distance when interacting with someone who must address you as my lady or Lady Claire.

  She had quite enjoyed the company of Anna MacLeod, Layla Macauley, and Cathleen MacLean over the last few days. They were all close to Claire’s age. If they had been modern women, they’d likely be graduating from high school or just starting college. Marriage would be the last thing on their minds. But Anna had been married the previous spring. Layla Macauley was betrothed to Aidan MacKay, one of Anna’s brothers. And Cathleen, Laird Maclean’s youngest sister, was worried about who her brother might pick for her. She had shyly admitted that she thought Hugh was perfectly wonderful. Secretly, Cassie thought the feeling was mutual and had suggested that Tavish mention it to his father.

  All three girls, along with Lady Ranald, Lady Matheson, and Lady MacLean descended on Cassie’s chamber to help her get ready for the wedding.

  When they were through, Cassie wore a cream colored, lamb’s wool kirtle under a heavily embroidered, blue wool gown. A silk veil held on by a silver circlet, covered her intricately braided hair. A heavy plaid, woven with blue and green stripes, was wrapped around her shoulders and held on with a silver brooch.

  Just before noon, Lady Ranald chivied the other women out of the chamber. “Thank ye all for yer kind assistance. Let them know downstairs that we’re almost ready. I just want a few minutes alone with my soon-to-be good-daughter.”

  The older married women smiled knowingly. Layla and Cathleen blushed and giggled. Anna laughed and gave Cassie a hug, whispering, “My husband’s older sister did the same thing. Try not to die of embarrassment.”

  Oh. Dear. God. Until that moment, she hadn’t quite realized what was going on, but now it was clear she was going to get the sex talk from a medieval woman. It might be funny if it wasn’t so terribly embarrassing. But if nothing else, it served to make her cheeks an attractive shade of pink.

  Finally, after weeks of waiting, she stood on the steps of the keep with a bouquet of herbs in one hand and her other over Coll’s arm. Her betrothed waited for her in front of the chapel, his brother, Hugh, at his side. Cathleen MacLean, who would stand with her, walked ahead of them, parting the crowd.

  From the time she had fallen in love with Tom, she had imagined being married to him. But perhaps unlike other girls, she’d never envisioned the kind of wedding they’d have. Partially because she knew it would have been yet another thing she’d have clashed with her parents over.

  But if she’d tried, she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect wedding than this one. It didn’t matter that the sky was a leaden gray and a raw wind whipped around them or that she’d had to endure the medieval version of a sex-ed lecture moments earlier.

  Tavish—Tom—waited for her with adoration in his eyes. They were surrounded by people who loved them both and they had a lifetime ahead of them to love each other. That was all that mattered.

  They exchanged vows in front of the chapel and then went inside for the nuptial Mass that followed. When it was over, and Father Paul announced, “Sir Tavish, ye may kiss yer bride,” Cassie couldn’t imagine ever feeling happier than she did at that moment.

  “I’ll love ye forever, Cassie,” Tavish whispered after he ended the kiss. The cheers of the crowd preventing anyone else from hearing him.

  “To the moon and back, Tom,” she mouthed.

  ~ * ~

  Tavish wanted to enjoy the wedding. The feast was spectacular, he was surrounded by friends and family, and his beloved was at his side. But all he could think about was leaving it, and being with her again. Perhaps this explained why there was three days of feasting to celebrate a wedding—to give the bride and groom a chance to enjoy at least part of it.

  Finally, all the niceties had been observed. The meal was cleared. The dancing commenced. He and Claire had danced together several times and Claire had danced with the leader of each visiting clan, ending with Dougal Matheson.

  “She’s a perfectly lovely bride, Tavish,” said Dougal when he returned Claire. “And it’s clear ye adore each other. That is a blessing beyond any other. Take good care of her.”

  “Aye, Dougal. I will.”

  Dougal leaned in conspiratorially. “Then ye might want to send yer priest up to bless the bed and then disappear with her before the crowd calls for the bedding ceremony. That’s likely to be more than a wee lass who’s lived her life in an abbey can bear.”

  Tavish chuckled. “Ye’re a good man, Dougal, but I had Father Paul bless the bed earlier this evening.”

  Even though his lovely bride hadn’t actually lived such a sheltered life, he knew she wanted to avoid that kind of spectacle.

  Several days ago, she had asked, “Tavish, I know it’s been a long time, but do you remember watching Game of Thrones on television.”

  He chuckled. “Aye. When I first came here I was a little worried that life would be like that.”

  “So the wedding thing? That doesn’t happen.”

  “Surely, ye’re not afraid—”

  “Nay, not that part. Ye know, the bedding ceremony thing.”

  “Oh, that. Well, there are bedding rituals.” The horrified look on her face made him quickly add, “But not like that.”

  She still looked worried. “Like what then?”

  “The worst I’ve seen is when the wedding guests escort the couple to their chamber, a priest blesses the bed and the couple gets in bed together. More often the priest blesses the bed and the wedding guests leave before anything else happens.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to do that?”

  He laughed and pulled her into a hug. “Nay. At the very least, the bed has to be blessed, but it can be done earlier in the day.”

  She sighed, clearly relieved. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “I thought ye might. I’ve already spoken to Father Paul about it.”

  So, having arranged it ahead of time, all Tavish had to do now was escape with her. He leaned close to her ear. “Are ye ready to say goodnight?”

  A saucy grin spread across her face.
“Absolutely. But how?”

  “Just follow my lead.”

  He took her by the hand and led her towards the dancing, as if they were going to join in. He had maneuvered close to the tower stairs by the end of the song. Before the minstrels struck up another tune he called out. “Lairds, ladies, and honored guests. I hope ye are enjoying yerselves well.”

  A cheer went up.

  He grinned. “That’s good news indeed. Please continue to do so. Father Paul assured me that he blessed the bed earlier this evening, so there’s nothing left for my lady wife and I to do but say good night.”

  With that, he scooped her into his arms, making her giggle, and ducked into the stairwell. He practically ran up the stairs, with her laughing the whole way. He shoved open the door to his chamber with his shoulder, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut behind them. In a few strides, he was across the room. He lowered her to the bed and his lips descended on hers.

  Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his clothes. He pulled away from her long enough to remove them.

  She watched him from the bed, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Ye’re a fine looking man, Tavish Ranald. And while ye never left me wanting before, I believe ye’re right. Ye might have traded up a wee bit.”

  He laughed. “I aim to please.”

  “Oh, my love, so do I,” she said, her voice low and sultry. She rose from the bed. “Just watch.”

  She started by removing the veil and circlet from her head. She removed the pins, combs and ribbons holding her hair in place. Then she pulled her fingers through it, releasing the braids, allowing her hair to float around her shoulders and down her back in a dark brown cloud.

  Once her hair was free, she removed her clothes in what turned out to be an incredibly sexy, strip tease, given her medieval garments. When she was clothed in nothing but her hair, she crossed to where he stood staring at her with awe.

  She took him in her hands, stroking his length.

  He groaned. Her touch was pure heaven.

  Then she dropped to her knees, kissing him and taking him into her mouth. He ran his hands over her hair while she worked her magic. Soon he had to pull her to her feet. “My darling, girl. I adore yer touch, but I fear tonight I want ye too badly.” He captured her lips in a kiss. Her hands wandered over his chest and his roamed down her back to cup her round bottom, pulling her intimate parts close to his.

  ~ * ~

  Cassie couldn’t get enough. When he released her lips, she wanted to pull him onto the bed and let him make love to her. But instead she decided to set aside her twenty-first century self and let him take the lead. She asked, “What would ye like for me to do…Laird?”

  He gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh, sweetling, is that the game ye want to play?”

  She smiled. “Aye, Laird.”

  “Well then, kneel on the bed.”

  “Yer wish is my command,” she said, before climbing onto the bed and giving him a cheeky wink.

  Tavish simply looked at her for a moment. “Kneeling, cloaked in only yer hair, ye are the most incredibly beautiful, erotic creature I have ever seen.” He moved to stand beside her next to the bed. He leaned down to her ear and planted a kiss behind it, eliciting a shiver. “Put yer hands on yer thighs and don’t move them.”

  She smiled and did as he asked.

  He swept her hair to one side with his left hand, exposing her neck. He kissed the back of her neck once. Only his lips touched her, but at that simple touch, desire rose even higher within her.

  He kissed her again, sliding his lips up her neck before placing a soft kiss behind her ear.

  She shivered and smiled.

  He gave a low, throaty chuckle and his kisses became harder. He moved back down her neck to her shoulder. Finally touching her with more than his lips, he gripped both shoulders with his hands, massaging lightly before he kissed her right shoulder. He nipped lightly at her neck, sending another wave of delightful shivers running through her.

  She felt him smile against her neck before he kissed it again. Then he trailed his tongue up to her ear, this time sucking gently on her earlobe.

  The sensations were amazing. He had kissed her like this before and she loved it.

  Soon, his kisses became hungrier and more demanding, his hands pushing down slightly on her shoulders. It was nearly overwhelming.

  As his kisses became more intense, he threaded the fingers of his left hand into her hair closing his fist around it and pulling slightly to move her head where he wished. She was completely in his control and that was exactly where she wanted to be.

  He knelt on the bed in front of her and with his left hand still fisted in her hair, he tilted her head back, kissing up the column of her throat to her lips.

  She was lost in the sensation of his lips on hers. She raised a hand to caress his cheek.

  He turned his head slightly and nipped at the side of her hand causing her to gasp. “Where should this soft hand be, sweetling?”

  She frowned. Where should it be?

  He chuckled. “I’m glad ye’re enjoying this. What did I ask of you before we started this game?”

  Her eyes flew open and she grinned saying, “I’m sorry, Laird, I forgot,” before putting her hands back on her thighs.

  “There’s a good lass.”

  He started kissing her once more. Her neck, her shoulders, her throat, her cheeks, her eyelids, and finally her lips again. She opened to him, allowing his tongue to plunder her mouth. She leaned towards him when he pulled away, only to feel the tug of his hand in her hair reminding her that she’d given control over to him. She closed her eyes again, relaxing completely.

  Only then did he lift her off of her knees and lower her to the bed. “Lay back, sweetling.”

  She did as he asked.

  He planted kisses down her throat until he reached her breasts.

  He’d been right about them too. They were fuller, rounder, and very sensitive.

  He took one in his mouth while brushing his thumb over the other peak.

  She moaned, raising her hands to his shoulders, exploring his chiseled muscles with a feather light touch.

  He slid his hand down her body to the sensitive nub at her apex and she was lost. It had been so long. She writhed under him as he continued to stroke her.

  “Tom…please…”

  “Aye, my beautiful lass, I’ll give ye anything ye desire.” He knelt between her legs and moved his hands under her, lifting her, and joining with her in one firm stroke.

  She cried out at the brief pain, she had all but forgotten that Claire was a virgin.

  He held still within her. “Are ye all right, my love?” His voice sounded strained, as if it took his full effort to hold back.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Make love to me.”

  He sighed and began to move in her.

  She rose to meet him, becoming completely lost in the primal act, which irrevocably connected their souls again. Soon she was overcome with the shuddering waves of her climax. The muscles at her core contracted repeatedly around him and he too found his release.

  She floated back to earth feeling completely perfect…and whole again.

  Chapter 24

  The three days of feasting ended in the wee hours of the morning on the fifth day of November. Most visitors sailed that evening. Morrisons, Mathesons, and MacLeods sailed the next day.

  Cassie was kept busy helping Lady Ranald get the keep back in order for several days. But her nights were spent in the bliss of Tavish’s arms. She couldn’t imagine being happier.

  The week had been cold and gray, just like the day of the wedding, but Friday dawned bright and sunny, even if a little crisp. By midmorning, Tavish sought her out in the storage rooms where she’d been checking some inventories for his mother.

  “My darling lass, what are ye doing buried in the storage rooms on such a fine day?” He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her until she could barely think straight.

&nb
sp; When he released her lips, she just smiled up at him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well what?”

  He chuckled. “What are ye doing down here on such a fine day?”

  “Oh. I was just checking the inventories for yer mam.”

  “Ah, I see. But, ye know, if we had been married in our own time, we’d be off somewhere warm and sunny on a honeymoon.”

  “I suppose so, but as long as I’m with ye, I don’t care where we are.”

  He kissed her deeply again.

  “Still, I suspect, I could spirit ye out of the keep for the afternoon if ye were of a mind to.”

  She sighed. “I suppose I could, but yer mam needs my help.”

  His face split in a broad grin. “My mam sent me down here.”

  She laughed. “Well in that case, then aye, spirit me away.”

  They were up the stairs and out of the keep in moments. To her surprise, both Raven and Belle waited in the bailey, already saddled. A stable boy held their reins. A plaid and a leather bag, which Cassie suspected held a picnic lunch, was strapped to Raven’s saddle.

  “Rather a foregone conclusion was I?”

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I felt certain ye’d want to please yer laird.”

  She laughed. “Fair enough.” Then she noticed the mounted guardsmen who waited for them as well and sighed. “Do we really need to have guardsmen with us?”

  He whispered again, “Now ye sound like the Cassandra Calloway I remember—always trying to shake her security detail.”

  “And for the same reason. Is it really necessary? We’ve never seen another soul when out riding on the moor.”

  “Nay we haven’t. But that may be because we’ve always had guardsmen with us. We are not on good terms with the Hendersons to our north or the Camerons to our east. And both clans would welcome the coin that could be gained by kidnapping the Ranald heir or his wife.”

  “Now ye sound like Cassie’s father,” she said in a low voice.

  “Now I understand his reasons,” he answered. “But as always, they’ll give us privacy.”

  “Well then, I won’t argue.”