Angel of Skye

by May McGoldrick

  Andrew!

  “Why don’t you call me Andrew?”

  Stepping back, Fiona bumped into Alec as the earl released her hands.

  “I see you two have already met.” Alec’s voice snapped Fiona’s head around. Looking into her face, he thought she looked suddenly pale, unsteady on her feet. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “What’s wrong?”

  She felt Alec’s strong hands around her waist and took strength from his touch. Looking up at him, she became aware of the numerous eyes that were upon her. Waiting for an answer. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “I’m fine.”

  “You have to do a better job taking care of her, Alec,” Alexander scolded. He turned to Huntly. “Alec rushed the poor lass here from Skye in a week’s time.”

  Fiona snuggled closer to Alec as she continued to study the earl. As the nobleman exchanged words with Alec’s father, Fiona saw his gaze continually travel back to her and to Alec. She saw him glance down at Alec’s encircling arm, at his hand holding her comfortably at the waist. She wondered what could be going through this man’s mind.

  “I haven’t offered you both my congratulations, Alec,” Huntly said, his eyes darting from Fiona’s face to Alec’s. Never a smile. Not a glimmer of emotion in the man’s hard face.

  “Well, here’s your opportunity,” Alec responded seriously. He wanted the earl’s approval of their marriage, but he’d be damned if he let Huntly’s cold ways dampen Fiona’s happiness this evening. Alec knew Huntly well enough to shrug off the earl’s lack of outward emotion, but he was afraid Fiona might construe it differently.

  “You appear to be the luckiest man in Scotland, Alec.” Huntly paused, his gaze lingering once again on Fiona’s face. “I’ve only known one woman in my life whose beauty equaled the beauty of this young lady. Congratulations to you both.”

  An awkward silence fell over the group, and Huntly stood motionless, the only one unaffected by it.

  “I sincerely hope, Fiona,” he said finally, breaking the spell, “that you and I get an opportunity to get to know one another in the days ahead.”

  “Well, Andrew, you can get started right now,” Lady Elizabeth broke in. “It’s time we all sat.”

  “May I have the pleasure of sitting beside you at dinner, m’lady?” Huntly asked, offering Fiona his arm.

  “Nay!” Alexander boomed. “You court-bred fox. You’ll not be stealing my new hatched chick!”

  “Alexander!” Elizabeth scolded. “You’ll have a lifetime to sit beside our new daughter.”

  “The hell I will,” the laird said as he escorted his wife ahead of the others to the table. “Don’t you think I know my own son? We’ll be lucky if he’ll let her visit us at Easter and Christmas.”

  “Just because you were so keen in keeping me only to yourself, that doesn’t mean Alec will be like that,” Elizabeth whispered to her husband.

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” Alexander put his hands around the slender waist of his wife and pulled her affectionately to his side. “Do I have to remind you of what we did during those times that I kept you to myself?”

  Elizabeth found herself blushing as she looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Reminding is nice.”

  The laird whipped around, pulling his wife with him. “Well, that does it. I’m exhausted. I’m afraid this party will have to go on without us.”

  “Alexander!” she drawled. “We have company.”

  “The hell with them!”

  “Stop it, Alexander,” she scolded, trying to pull out of his grip.

  “Then have them serve a quick dinner,” he growled, allowing himself to be drawn to the table. “Hear me? Quick.”

  Alec, sitting down beside Fiona and Huntly, exchanged grins with his brother John at their parents’ amorous actions. Some things never changed at Benmore Castle.

  “There, you see,” the laird grumbled loudly with a wink at Fiona. “Now I’ve lost my place beside my daughter.”

  Elizabeth patted the bench next to her. “Well, you can sit right here beside me and tell me again about how your hunting went today.”

  When Alec came to her in the night, the full moon had spread its beams across the chamber floor in a carpet of blue chiffon. The heavy oaken door had swung easily on its well-greased hinges, and the warrior slipped quietly into the room, his eyes quickly finding the great bed in the lunar glow. Placing the heavy bar across the door, Alec moved to the side of the bed. Within the semidarkness of the damask curtains, pulled back in the comfortable summer weather, Alec looked longingly for Fiona.

  The bed was empty.

  “Looking for someone?” she called quietly, watching him from the window seat. Fiona hadn’t been able to go to sleep, so, wrapping the Macpherson tartan around her, she sat waiting on the window seat, gazing out at a starlit sky.

  “Not ‘someone,’” Alec said, making his way around the bed. “I’m looking for you.”

  She had hoped that he would come. She needed him; she had so many questions that she hoped he could answer. Questions about her mother. About Andrew, Lord Huntly. During dinner, she’d continued to observe the earl. He was a man of very few words when it came to his own affairs, but he’d asked many questions of Alec, of her. He’d been very interested in her upbringing, in the education she’d received at the Priory. And surprisingly, he’d been very attentive to talk about her relationship with Alec. Though his expression showed nothing, it seemed to Fiona that Lord Andrew was extremely curious about her and Alec. About how they’d met, and particularly about what their marriage plans were.

  “Why did the earl ask so many questions at dinner, Alec?” she whispered as he moved her aside and sat beside her.

  “You’re still thinking about Huntly?” he asked, trying to make himself comfortable in the limited space.

  “Aye, I am.” She stood, trying to give him enough room to get settled. But he just stretched his legs, taking over all the space she’d vacated. Fiona looked at him wide-eyed. She’d just been muscled out of her snug sanctuary. “Are you happy now?”

  “No, not yet,” Alec said as he reached and grabbed her hands. With a sharp tug, he yanked Fiona onto his lap. He shifted her weight and snuggled her against his chest. “Ah. This is much better.”

  Fiona looked up into his mischievous eyes and smiled. He definitely had a way of making her forget things.

  “You didn’t bar your door.” His words were neither a question nor an admonition. They had a note of suggestiveness that made Fiona shiver with anticipation.

  She looked at him from under lowered eyelids. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get in.”

  “A mere door will never keep me away from you, my love.” Alec’s lips sought hers, the tip of his tongue tasting the sweet fullness of her. He pulled back, gazing at her. The glow of the moon glistened in her eyes. “I’d hoped you’d be waiting for me.”

  The flowing mass of hair billowed over her shoulder, and Alec could smell the scent of jasmine in the soft cascading mane.

  “What would have happened if I’d been sleeping?” She drawled the last word as Alec’s hand gently began to roam her body. His magic fingers played wide circles on her arms and back, caressing the soft fabric against her skin beneath.

  “What do you have under this?” he asked in alluring tones, his mouth playing against her sensitive earlobes.

  Fiona shuddered in excitement at the feel of his hot breath against her neck, of his strong hands working themselves under the thick cloth of the tartan and onto the smooth silk of her nightshift. “It’s a present from your mother.”

  “Let me see it.” Alec pushed her off his lap, standing her in the open angle of his thighs. He slowly, ever so slowly, removed the tartan from her shoulder and dropped it to the floor. Pushing her hair away from her shoulder, Alec’s hands traveled down Fiona’s arms, taking hold of her hands. He gazed longingly in rapt admiration at the creation before him.

  “You are a goddess,” he whispered,
his voice husky with awe. The translucent silk of the nightgown molded itself to the sensuous lines of her perfect body. Alec leaned forward, his hands moving to Fiona’s hips. His fingers gently caressed the subtle curves of her belly, and he felt her shiver as his thumbs crossed her ribs and came to rest at the base of her firm, full breasts.

  “I have to say, this is the best present my mother has ever given me.” He held his breath as one of the shoulder straps fell off her shoulder, revealing the milky-white flesh of her breast. “I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow.”

  “Nay!” She scowled softly, pulling the strap back up. “You are not supposed to see this garment until our wedding night.”

  Alec reached up and pulled both of the straps partially down her arms before drawing her back into his lap. “I think you should know something of our parents, love. My father already had my mother pregnant with a child before they married.”

  “He did?”

  “Aye, he did.” He placed a kiss on her exposed shoulders, tasting her soft flesh. “I was born seven months after they’d wed. The families on both sides were quite impressed with my size, considering my premature status.”

  “Alec, I’m...I’m glad we are marrying before the week’s end.” She pulled open the front of his shirt and pressed her lips against the solid warmth of his skin. She lay her head on his shoulder.

  “Not as glad as I am.” He traced the edge of her gown where the tops of her breasts rose and fell with the slightest of movements.

  “But I’m afraid, too.” Fiona’s hands ceased momentarily their voyage of discovery.

  Alec drew back, gazing into her anxious eyes. “Not of me, I hope.”

  “Nay,” she answered, averting her eyes. “Of me. Of myself.”

  Gently he took her chin in his hand, drawing her eyes back to his. “How could you possibly be afraid of yourself?”

  “How could I not be afraid?” Fiona whispered. “All I know of love and marriage is what I remember of my parents. They might have carried all the love of the world for the other, but they could not be married.” She paused and let her fingers caress Alec’s face. “Perhaps those two things don’t go together.”

  “Fiona,” Alec scolded gently. “Stop living in the past.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that I might be cursed as my mother was?” She silenced him, laying her fingers tenderly on his lips. “I was an illegitimate child. Perhaps I am fated to live and love as she—”

  “I won’t let you do this, Fiona.” This time Alec took her firmly by the shoulders. “Now, you listen to me. Before I went to the Isle of Skye, before I ever met you, if someone had talked seriously to me of fate being the cause of events, I would have laughed in their face. But today I believe in it. Meeting you, seeing the porter, James…so many things have happened. The reason why I’m saying this is that I know and understand your fears. But I’m not going to let those fears hinder our happiness. What happened to your parents might have been their fate, but it was their fate, not ours. We have each other. We want each other. We love each other.”

  “But Alec, they had all these things, too.”

  “Aye, but they also had the people of two countries objecting to their marriage. They had forces beyond their control pulling them apart. We don’t have that, Fiona. We don’t.”

  She leaned her forehead against his lips and tried to accept his words.

  “Please tell me you are not afraid.”

  She looked up. “Do I hear Alec Macpherson pleading?”

  “Pleading. Begging. You can call it whatever you like. I need to know you are content. That you believe. That’s all that matters. So humor me and tell me you will not be afraid.”

  “But Alec, that’s not all.”

  “It isn’t?” He cradled her face in his great hand. “Good God, Fiona! What else is there?”

  “I still feel like a foolish, inexperienced woman.” She paused, and then blurted out her other fear. “Alec, I know nothing about being a wife! Not the first thing! I’m afraid I’ll do everything wrong.”

  A smile creased Alec’s face.

  Her hand dropped to her side, and her finger played unconsciously on the soft wool of Alec’s kilt. “Not one thing I learned at the Priory was aimed at preparing me for this!”

  “Fiona, you ran the affairs of that place with tremendous skill. Affairs at Benmore Castle and Dunvegan are no different from what you’ve been doing at the Priory.” Alec looked reassuringly into her face, working hard to ignore the heavenly pleasure of her hand on his taut thigh muscle. These were the kinds of worries it would be a pleasure to deal with.

  “Alec, the running of castles is not what has me worried,” she said softly. She felt awkward and helpless, but what words would make him understand?

  His fingers found the smooth skin of her cheek, and it was hot to his touch. Realizing that she was totally unaware of the effect her touch was having on him, he knew exactly what was worrying her. “Fiona, we already belong to each other. Everything you need to know is already inside of you.”

  “But I hardly know what to do.” Fiona stared down at the muscular forearms that held her so tenderly, at the hands that moved so expertly. “I don’t know how to please you.” Her hand waved in frustration, coming to rest on his arm.

  “Please me? I can’t believe you’ve forgotten what we shared in that tower.”

  “Oh, Alec. I will remember what happened there until the day I die. I know what I felt, but how...how can I make you feel that way?”

  “It’s easy,” Alec said as his hand caressed the sides of her breast and traveled up to her face. Encircling her face with his great hands, he whispered the words. “Just be who you are, my love. Don’t ever change.”

  Fiona could see a hint of what she thought was sorrow glistening in his deep blue eyes, and then she knew, more than anything else in this world, that she wanted him to be happy. She stood and turned in his arms until she faced him. Their gazes never wavered.

  “Alec, that’s a promise you have from me.” She leaned down, placing a kiss on his full lips before continuing softly, “but if you think that you can change the topic so easily, you are mistaken, m’lord.”

  Standing there, looking down at his handsome face, she noted the twinge of smile tugging at his lips as his eyes dropped to her breasts. She laced her hands into his hair and, grabbing a fistful, she pulled it roughly back. “Now tell me what I should do.”

  Alec’s hands reached out, softly gripping her firm thighs. Then, slowly—ever so slowly—he began to gather her night shift up from below her knees. “Use your imagination, my love. Just use your imagination.”

  Fiona shivered with excitement as Alec’s hands slid under the raised hem, moving his palms across her naked buttocks. Taking his advice to heart, she tugged open his shirt until it opened to his waist. Then, reaching down she started to pull it out of his kilt and up over his shoulders. Dropping the linen garment beside her, she let her hands travel all over his back, his shoulders, his chest, tracing the contours. Then, no longer able to stand away from him, she followed her fingers’ trail with her mouth. She took great pleasure seeing him visibly react to the effect of her mouth on his skin. Slowly, she lowered herself in front of him, and as her mouth traced a path down his stomach, she heard him take a deep breath and hold it.

  Alec’s hands reached into Fiona’s tumbling mass of hair and pulled it back. Their eyes locked.

  Fiona looked deep into the banked coals of his passion and felt her spirit lift. She placed her two hands on his thighs and slid them slowly upward. She felt his hands latch onto her hair, and as her fingers found his manhood, encircling it, she saw him close his eyes and tilt his head back. Moving closer, she reached down and, hesitantly, rubbed the warm crown of the thick shaft against her cheek. Hearing his restrained groan, she grew bolder and took him deep in her mouth.

  One moment Alec was leashing his desire, the next moment he was out of control. Within him passion surged, filling his chest with a tight
ness that constricted all breathing. His hands again grabbed her soft mane of hair, and he pulled her head back until her face looked up into his. Their eyes met, and even in the darkened room, he could see her own matching desire. Desire that permeated the space between them. Desire that hung like a glistening jewel in their locked gazes.

  His mouth descended upon her still parted lips. His tongue thrust deeply into her warmth. He tasted all she had in her. Alec’s hands cradled Fiona’s face, then moved across the slender shoulders. Gently drawing the silk shift up, he carefully lifted it over her head. Taking her hands, Alec gazed on the vision looking up at him. She slowly, wordlessly, stood up.

  In the soft moonlight, Fiona shone as if lit from within. Like a goddess of some pagan rite, she stood motionless in the luminescent glow, her lover’s human heart pounding feverishly, his soul committed, his entire being enthralled by the energy of her radiant perfection. She hid nothing from him as his eyes did homage to her resplendent beauty. His gaze traveled from her face, down along the hair that flowed over one breast, past the curves of her belly to the triangle of soft hair that graced the junction of her long legs. He looked up into her exquisite face and glistening eyes.

  Fiona reached out and touched his cheek, and Alec kissed the palm of her hand. Then, placing her arm on his shoulder, he lifted her effortlessly as he stood, moving easily to the bed and laying her gently across it.

  He looked down at her as he unfastened the belt that held his kilt. Unwrapping it, he stood naked beside the bed, and Fiona watched him, a hunger spreading like a wildfire within her. She moved restlessly against the soft sheet, wishing his weight upon her.

  Reaching down, Alec took hold of Fiona’s legs, dragging her slowly toward him until her knees dangled at the edge of the billowy mattress. She began to raise herself, but he met her halfway, taking her wrists and pushing them back, trapping them with one hand above her head. His mouth was rough as he took possession of hers, and Fiona responded with a driving passion that matched his own.

  He tore his mouth from hers, and his ardor threatened to overflow as Fiona’s leg raised and hooked around his thigh. He kissed the hollow of her throat and felt her body arch against him as his mouth suckled a hardened nipple.