Highland Jewel (The House of Pendray Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  “We’re a mile or two closer than the last time ye asked. Ye seem excited to see the place yer father was billeted.”

  Smiling broadly, she looked askance at him. “Oh, aye. ’Tis the only reason.”

  Gray snorted, but Garnet took it in good part. It augured well that she was looking forward to their wedding night. He’d been aroused since he’d seen her puffing and panting at the top of the steep path from the beach, her face flushed with excitement. He completely understood Captain Pendray’s reaction years ago and relished his upcoming role in a tryst at the Drovers’ Inn. Whatever had taken place there between Jewel’s parents had apparently been significant enough to bind them to each other and help them endure the long months apart that followed.

  He and Jewel had already survived a cruel separation and he never wanted to undergo that torment again. She’d become essential to his happiness, but he worried about Edinburgh. She would miss her family, and, if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t overly fond of the town. His wife’s ordeal had begun in Edinburgh—hardly a happy memory. Michael and Donald might still be in prison. If the fugitives had been recaptured, there’d be a trial, and the inevitable barbaric punishments. He willed away the gruesome recollection of Richard Cameron’s head on the Netherbow Port.

  However, Edinburgh was the one place he was likely to find a suitable position. Money from the sale of the emeralds wouldn’t sustain them forever.

  Jewel clearly enjoyed Beatris’ company. The Guthrie girls were delightful. Quinn would help them, as would Vermeer. They didn’t know anyone else in Scotland’s capital, except for the Camerons, a family he intended to avoid like the plague. Maggie was a different story. He’d promised to return her emerald, and he was a man of his word.

  Gray and the Highlanders set up their camp in fields outside Stonehyve. Garnet and his bride rode on to the inn, after Jock managed to corral Aristotle. The puppy whined at being separated from Jewel. “He considers himself yer champion,” Garnet quipped.

  Her eyes sparkled. “Nay. That’s yer job.”

  A stable boy took the reins as they dismounted in front of the inn. “Ye gentlemen lodgin’ with us, are ye?”

  Jewel giggled as she removed her cap. “I must be the first woman to arrive dressed like a man.”

  The lad apologized, blushing fiercely.

  “Dinna fash,” Garnet told him, not wanting to waste time explaining Jewel had changed into the male outfit after the hand-fasting ceremony. “My wife finds it easier to ride in…”

  “We’re newly-weds,” Jewel blurted out, her blush matching the youth’s. “I changed after the ceremony in Kinneff.”

  The lad thrust the reins back into Garnet’s hands. “Wait, sir, if ye please. I’ll tell the landlord to prepare the bridal chamber.”

  Garnet put his arm around Jewel’s shoulder as the lad rushed into the inn. “How do ye like the sound of that, Mrs. Barclay?” he quipped.

  She leaned into him, looking up at the weather-beaten sign over the door. “I can scarce believe the place is still here, never mind that they have a bridal chamber.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank ye for agreeing to this.”

  He held her close. “I canna think of a better place for our first joining.”

  The portly landlord bustled out of the inn, pausing when he saw Jewel’s outfit.

  The stable boy came to their rescue as he took back the reins. “The lady prefers to wear trouzes when she rides,” he explained to his master before leading the horses to the stable.

  Scraping fingernails through the stubble of a thick red beard, the innkeeper ushered them into the foyer. “Er…aye…well…come in…come in. Mitchell’s the name. ’Tisna very often we get newly-weds. Just tied the knot today, Thomas tells me.”

  “Aye,” Jewel replied. “We chose your inn because my father was billeted here years ago.”

  Mitchell arched bushy red eyebrows. “Billeted, ye say?”

  While Garnet loved his wife’s wide-eyed enthusiasm, he suspected she may have opened the proverbial Pandora’s box. “I suppose ye’ve had many a soldier stay here over the years.”

  “Nay, only the Sassenach officers of Cromwell’s cursed army. I was just a lad, but there were some right goings on, according to my father.”

  Garnet tried to steer the conversation away from the goings-on. “Yer father was the landlord in those days?”

  “My Da said the whores flocked here like moths to the flame.”

  Jewel bristled. “I can assure ye, Mr. Mitchell, my mother was no whore.”

  The innkeeper chuckled. “If ye say so.”

  Fearing his wife was rapidly losing interest in staying at the Drovers’, Garnet leaned close to her ear. “’Tis dusk already and I dinna want to spend my wedding night in a tent.”

  “I’ll need yer name, sir,” Mitchell said flatly, dipping his quill in ink.

  “Barclay, from Blairgowrie.”

  “And the lady’s yer wife, ye said.”

  Garnet tightened his grip on his bride’s hand—to no avail.

  “I am indeed his wife, sir. Jewel Pendray Barclay, from Ayrshire.”

  Mitchell looked up and scratched his bald head. “Pendray? I recollect that name.”

  Garnet grasped at the glimmer of hope. “He was a Welsh officer who later married Hannah Kincaid.”

  The innkeeper slapped his palm against his sweaty forehead. “Of course. Why did ye nay say so?” he gushed, his broad smile revealing three chins. “I remember Da talking about the only Welshmon who stayed here at that time. He thought it strange in an English army. And ye say he wed Hannah Kincaid. The Hannah Kincaid? This is why ye married in Kinneff—but I didna ken a national heroine stayed at my inn. I’ll spread the word. Good for business.”

  Glad as he was they’d resolved the matter, Garnet didn’t want to stand around reminiscing much longer. “Ye mentioned a bridal chamber.”

  Mitchell winked. “Aye. Follow me.”

  “Wonderful,” Garnet declared as Mitchell lit their way into a spacious chamber that boasted large windows and a bed big enough for two.

  “Aye,” Jewel echoed, trying to keep the disappointment out of her reply. “Thank ye.”

  “Would ye like supper brought up to the chamber?” the smiling innkeeper asked, setting the candle lantern on the armoire. “We’ve a nice bit o’ fresh fish to offer—local.”

  “Aye,” Garnet agreed. “In an hour or two.”

  “I’ll send Thomas up with it later,” came the reply as Mitchell bowed his way out.

  Garnet removed his plaid, put his arms around Jewel’s waist and gathered her to his body. “No need to be nervous,” he assured her, touching his forehead to hers.

  She regretted misleading him. “’Tisna that I’m nervous. I ken I’m being silly, but Papa has jested often enough about his billet here being basically a cupboard with barely enough room to move.”

  “We can ask for the wee chamber, if ye wish.”

  She smiled, eyeing the bed. “Nay, this is a grand chamber. Mr. Mitchell will be miffed if we refuse it.”

  He chuckled. “’Twas a jest, lovely lass. I’ve nay intention of making sweet love to my wife for the first time in a cupboard.”

  Warmth blossomed in a private place and wanton anticipation spread through her body. The lovemaking she craved would be sweet—her husband a patient teacher. She put her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. “I dinna ken exactly what happened here between my parents, but my father is an honorable man who wouldn’t have…”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “I suspect the Drovers’ Inn was a place of magical beginnings for yer parents, as it will be for us. We are pledged to each other and I will have ye this night, Jewel.”

  “’Tis what I desire,” she breathed in reply.

  He moved his hands to her hips and made a space between them. “We’re both dressed in male clothing. Why not make a game of disrobing?”

  Her nipples tingled when he fixed his gaze on her brea
sts. “A game?”

  “Dinna take this the wrong way, but I’ve ne’er dealt with removing shirts and trouzes.”

  Jealousy raised its ugly head. “Ye’ve undressed women before,” she murmured, appalled she’d even uttered her thoughts out loud. Every maiden accepted men were creatures of lust who likely didn’t come virgin to their marriage bed.

  He tilted her chin to his gaze, his blue eyes narrowed. “Listen well. I’ve pleasured lasses, and they’ve pleasured me, but I’ve ne’er joined my body to a woman’s and filled her with my seed. I wanted to savor that joy with my bride.”

  Her heart swelled. Their union would be as memorable an experience for him. She cupped his face in her hands and pressed her mons to his hard male part. “Darling mon,” she whispered.

  He winked. “Boots first.”

  Garnet didn’t truly expect his wife to remove his boots, but she bade him sit on the bed, lifted one foot and straddled his leg.

  “Ye think I dinna ken how to do this, but ye forget I have two brothers.”

  Propped up on his elbows, he considered her enticing bottom as she struggled to pull off his boot. He began to wish he’d simply undressed her. At this rate he’d spill too soon. The pleasurable ache at his groin was already turning into urgent need.

  “Now ye,” she declared when the second boot came off.

  They changed places and he straddled her outstretched leg, resisting the urge to hazard a backward glance. Instead, he conjured a vision of ripe breasts thrust out as she in turn propped herself up on the bed. The first boot came off easily. His shaft bucked when she unexpectedly put her bare foot on his arse and pushed as he eased off the second boot. “Minx,” he scolded.

  “What’s next?” she asked, green eyes sparkling like a bairn playing a forbidden game.

  “Ye take off my doublet, then I’ll remove yers.”

  She came to her knees on the bed. “Come closer.”

  Tongue wedged between her teeth, she slowly peeled the top of his great kilt off his shoulders. He touched the tip of his tongue to hers as she unfastened the hooks of his doublet, then sucked in a breath when she opened the garment and stared at his shirt. “Ye’re hot,” she whispered, laying a hand on the linen plastered to his skin.

  “’Tis a warm day,” he replied lamely, though the fire inside had naught to do with the weather.

  Never removing her hand from his chest, she watched intently as he eased the doublet off his body and threw it to the floor. It was tempting to hurry things along by loosening the belt of his great kilt and letting it fall to join the doublet, but he’d begun the game and she might be alarmed by his size. He had to remind himself—and his shaft—he was a patient man.

  He pushed the bone fasteners of her jerkin through the loops, one by one, and helped her pull slender arms from the sleeves. Dark nipples pouting at the fabric of the shirt aroused him further. Yet, he was ridiculously disappointed he wouldn’t get the chance to unwind the bindings she’d told him about. He’d dreamt of it often enough.

  “Now yer shirt,” she said in a husky voice that echoed in his heart.

  “Together,” he replied, untying the laces at his throat.

  She loosened hers.

  He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  She did the same, then put both hands on his chest. “I have to confess, I’ve seen ye stripped to the waist before—at the pump in the yard. I was impressed.”

  Her words scarcely penetrated his euphoria as he stared at perfect breasts that would fill his big hands. “I ne’er saw anything so beautiful,” he rasped, licking his lips. “Can I taste ye?”

  Euphoria

  Jewel had never considered that her nipples were connected to every other part of her body. Intense cravings spiralled from her breasts down her spine, up her thighs and thence to her womb as Garnet suckled like a contented child. Her mother had been open about what happens between a man and a woman when they mate, wanting her daughter to be prepared. As she held her breast to Garnet’s lips, cradling him in the crook of her arm, Jewel realized she hadn’t truly understood the power of desire.

  When her husband took her hand and pressed it to his hard male part, she surrendered to the rightness of the alchemy between them. It was often said women who enjoyed sexual congress were whores. Jewel thanked God for her mother’s assurances such nonsense wasn’t true. “Can I take off yer kilt?” she murmured into his hair.

  “Aye,” he rasped in reply, coming to his knees on the bed.

  The air chilled her wet nipples, but she abandoned the notion to insist he begin suckling again when he unfastened the belt around his waist. The great kilt fell away from his body.

  Propped up on her elbows, she stared open-mouthed at well-muscled thighs, powerful hips, and a thick lance jutting from a nest of black curls. The cravings intensified when Garnet placed her hand back on the root of his manhood, but she faltered. Such a member couldn’t possibly…

  He curled his hand around hers and moved it to the tip. Her apprehension grew as his maleness swelled and darkened further, but a compulsion to continue moving her hand up and down on him held her in its thrall.

  “I feel yer heat already,” he whispered, cupping his hand over her most private place. “Let’s get ye out of these trouzes.”

  Her heart fluttered when she suddenly found herself on her feet, the trouzes being eased off her hips. He helped her step out of the garment and she stood naked, nervous but excited as he raked his gaze over her.

  “Dinna be afraid,” he said. “I’ll make ye ready.”

  She had no notion what he meant until he lifted her onto the bed, draped her legs over his shoulders, and put his mouth on her most intimate place.

  Having her breasts suckled was arousing. Garnet’s hungry feasting between her legs carried her into a world of indescribable pleasure. He watched her, a gleam of satisfaction in his blue eyes.

  “Garnet,” she panted.

  He lifted his head. “Aye, lass, let it come.”

  She moaned throatily when he parted her flesh with his thumbs and dipped his tongue into her opening. In and out…teasing…sweet torture. Something was indeed building.

  “Squeeze yer nipples,” he rasped.

  She obeyed without a second thought—hadn’t she already learned her nipples were connected…

  …The capacity for rational thought fled as ecstasy quickly overtook her and she was soaring, breathless, in light so bright she had to close her eyes. The pleasure went on and on, wave after wave as Garnet suckled.

  A little voice in her head intruded—something was missing, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him…

  The doubt was silenced and her need fulfilled when Garnet’s manhood slowly slid inside her and he kissed her hungrily. She’d expected pain, but was aware of none. Her mind and heart surrendered to the euphoria of letting him breathe for her, filling her starved lungs with air and her needy body with his maleness. The tiny muscles of her sheath gripped him as he moved within. “I’ll never let ye go,” she whispered.

  Garnet’s rational mind knew his seed would soon erupt inside his wife; it was a cataclysm he craved. Yet, he held back, gritting his teeth against the inevitable, because then his happy shaft would curl up outside her body. He wanted to stay inside her forever.

  Slowly, he told himself, go slowly.

  That notion flew away like dandelion seeds when she matched his rhythm, stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust. Faster and higher they soared together. The earlier thrill of her first release would pale in comparison if they climaxed together now. This was unfamiliar territory and he prayed his cock would do the job right.

  His sac tightened, stoking the flames. His shaft felt like it had swollen to ten times its normal size. Afraid he might hurt her, he made a supreme effort to slow down, but she urged him on. “Dinna stop now,” she pleaded, squeezing his male nipples.

  He became a man possessed, a frantic wild creature, thrusting and thrusting. Rapture seized
him as his seed rushed from his body. “Christus,” he shouted, for some lunatic reason reverting to Dutch.

  Jewel was screaming her delight so loudly, it was unlikely she heard.

  A thousand vague thoughts swirled in Jewel’s head, but the certainty she was ecstatically happy superseded them all. Her sheath agreed, pulsing of its own volition on her husband, still buried deep inside her. She’d joined her body to a man’s and enjoyed every moment of it.

  “I love ye,” she murmured, tracing her fingers through the sheen on his back.

  She thought he might have passed out after expending so much energy bringing her to rapture, but he stirred.

  “As I love ye,” he replied, his breath warm on her neck.

  He lifted his head and she saw happiness mirrored in his eyes. She tousled his wayward locks. “Ye look exhausted.”

  He put his hands on her bottom and lifted her on top of him as he turned onto his back. “’Tis serious business satisfying a beautiful woman. I assume ye are satisfied?” he asked with a sly smile.

  “Aye,” she admitted. “They likely heard me screaming in the kitchens.” She tightened her grip without success as his manhood slipped from her body to nestle at her opening.

  “’Tis a lost cause, darling,” he rasped. “Ye took every bit of me I had to give. After supper we’ll have another go.”

  They lay together for long minutes, her head resting on his shoulder. She marveled that she felt completely at ease lying naked on top of a man, savoring the warmth of his skin, the rugged contours of his body, so different from her own.

  He sifted his fingers through her hair. “I’ve dreamt of waking of a morning wrapped in these tresses,” he confessed.

  “Then ye shall,” she replied lazily.

  “Ye ken, Jewel,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, “if a man and a woman still love each other after the lovemaking, ’tis a sure sign they’re meant to be together.”