Fiona couldn’t quite believe she had posed such an audacious question. “Pardon me?”
“Ye’re marrying my brother and I am thrilled about that because I love ye and I have always wanted a sister. He clearly loves ye, but I haven’t heard ye say that ye love him.”
“Anna, I—I don’t know him very well.”
“Aye ye do, and I can tell ye like him, but do ye love him.”
“Sweetling, ye’re old enough to be married yerself. Ye know love isn’t always a part of noble marriages.”
“Aye, but no one is forcing ye into this. Ye have a choice. He can annoy the life out of me, but he is my brother and I do love him. He deserves a wife who loves him too.”
Anna was deadly serious and, by all the saints, she was right. Fiona had said it to herself. She wanted to be loved and she wanted to love him, but did she? Was she being selfish? “Honestly, pet, I don’t think I know what it means to love someone like that.”
“Well that’s silly, of course ye do. Love isn’t that hard to figure out. Ye love Morag don’t ye?”
“That’s not the same thing at all. Morag is a horse, a pet.”
“Aye, she is and ye love her, but someday she will die. When that happens, ye will be very sad but ye will get another horse. Ye love me too don’t ye?”
Fiona laughed. “Aye, Anna, I love ye.”
“How would ye feel if something happened to me? What if I died, or worse, married someone who lived far, far, away?”
Fiona laughed again. “A marriage, at least one that yer brother would arrange for ye, wouldn’t be worse than death, Anna.”
“Still how would ye feel if I were gone?”
Fiona sobered. “I would miss ye terribly.”
Anna smiled and hugged her. “I’d miss ye too. Now, what if something happened to Eoin? What if ye couldn’t marry him and he was gone from ye forever? What if ye did marry him and, God forbid, he passed away?” Fiona’s heart ached instantly at the thought. “Would ye replace him quickly as ye would Morag?”
“Nay, of course not.”
“Would ye miss him terribly as ye would me, or would it be much worse than that?”
Tears welled in Fiona’s eyes. Losing Eoin would be devastating. “It would kill me.”
Anna’s face split into a grin and she hugged her again. “Then, I think ye know what it means to love a spouse, and I think it is clear that ye love my brother that way.”
This knowledge gave Fiona a confidence that she hadn’t realized she lacked. Tomorrow she would stand in front of Naomh-dùn’s church with Eoin as he vowed to love and honor her as long as she lived. Now she knew she would make the same vow to him, wholeheartedly, without reservation. She would marry the man whose life she had saved, the man who she had dreamed about for years, the man who she loved with all of her heart.
Thirteen
Eoin had been tense until the day of the wedding. He wasn’t worried about marrying Fiona, far from it. It couldn’t happen soon enough. He only feared that something would happen to prevent it. He imagined Bram Sutherland arriving with both the ransom and the betrothal contract and stealing her away. Although he wanted his men to find Alec MacNicol, he worried about that as well. As her brother and laird he could stop this wedding too.
At last the day arrived when he would finally be able to marry the woman he loved. He waited on the steps of the church with Father Tomas as she walked through his gathered clansmen. As not a single member of her clan was present, there was no one to give her away. However, Anna, who would stand with Fiona, insisted on walking beside her to the church.
As was traditional, they exchanged their vows in front of the doors of the church. Afterward, Eoin and Fiona followed Father Tomas inside where he said the wedding Mass. Finally, after Father Tomas gave the couple the final blessing, he smiled kindly and announced, “Ye may kiss yer bride, Laird MacKay.”
His bride. The beautiful lass with black hair and laughing blue eyes, was truly his. He kissed her with joy. He lifted her to his lips, gave her a scorching, soul stirring kiss and spun her around on the altar, to the delight of his cheering clan. When he broke the kiss, he still held her to him with her feet dangling. She laughed. “Ye can put me down, Eoin.”
“Not yet, my love, I’m not ready.”
“When do ye suppose ye’ll be ready?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a year or two.”
She laughed again. “Put me down, ye brute. We have a feast waiting.”
He put her down, but didn’t let her venture much beyond his fingertips throughout the celebration. They feasted and danced well into the evening, but he wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. Finally, he could wait no longer. They had just finished a dance and she collapsed against him, out of breath and laughing. He scooped her into his arms, calling out to Father Tomas, “Father, I’ll be needing yer services one more time tonight.”
Whoops and yells of approval went up from the clan as he carried her to the stairs. She buried her face against his chest, blushing at the ribald comments tossed out by clansmen who were well into their cups. Father Tomas led them to Eoin’s chamber, blessed the bed and the couple, wishing them a long and fruitful marriage, and was gone.
“Fiona, my precious lass, I am truly the most blessed man on earth.” He kissed her before lowering her feet to the ground. For the first time since he had met her, she seemed shy and uncertain. “Is something wrong, love?”
“Nay, I just—I just—well I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
He chuckled. “My darling bride, ye don’t have to do anything.” He removed his plaid before capturing her lips again, gently at first but then more demanding. He stroked her softly as he removed her garments, never taking his lips from hers. She moaned at each increasingly intimate caress. When her clothes lay in a puddle at her feet, he lifted her again and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before he broke the kiss. With full creamy breasts, a narrow waist and softly curving hips, she was exquisite. “Ye’re perfectly beautiful, Fiona.”
She looked momentarily stunned, as if she hadn’t realized until that moment that she was naked. Before she had time to think about it, he removed his own clothes and slipped into bed beside her. He kissed her eyelids, then the tip of her nose, causing her to grin. He cupped a plump breast in one hand, while lifting her hair with the other and nibbling behind her ear. She giggled. He trailed kisses down her neck until he reached her other breast, taking the rosy nipple into his mouth and suckling lightly.
She ran her fingers through his hair, sighing, “Eoin.”
As he kissed and suckled first one breast, then the other, he slid his hand down her side. She flinched and giggled when he reached her waist. “Are ye ticklish, lass?”
“Aye,” she whispered, blushing.
“Well, sweetling, I know a place ye might find delightfully ticklish.” He slipped his hand between her legs, stroking the sensitive nub at their apex.
She gasped and stiffened for a moment, but almost instantly gave in to the new sensation.
“That’s it, love. Relax and let it take ye.” He continued kissing and suckling her breasts.
She closed her eyes and arched into his touch.
He slipped one finger into her tight passage. She began to moan and pant. He stopped his tender assault for a moment and her eyes flew open. “Eoin, I—”
“Wheesht, lass.” He captured her mouth with his and began stroking her again. This time he slipped two fingers inside.
She gasped at the intrusion but again curved closer, seeking…something.
When she began to tremble and he knew she was on the edge of her climax, he eased himself between her legs. He removed his fingers and pushed his manhood just barely into her. He needed her so badly he ached, but knew he had to proceed slowly. He continued to rub her sensitive spot until she arched against him, shuddering and crying out his name. Only then, as her muscles contracted around him, did he breach her maidenhead. She gave one sharp cr
y of pain and he stilled.
Fourteen
Fiona had been lost in his kisses, his touch. Both served to lull her into pure sensation. He did things with his hand and his mouth that were surely wicked, but she didn’t care. She had the feeling she was about to soar over the edge of a cliff when he stopped. No, don’t stop. She wanted more. She wanted to go over that cliff.
She nearly begged for more, but didn’t have to. He gave her what she yearned for. She trembled from the heat building inside her, then once again was hurtling toward the cliff when waves of pleasure crashed over her. She called his name. “Eoin.” Then a piercing pain cut through her ecstasy. She cried out again and he stopped. He didn’t move a muscle for a moment and the pain began to recede as quickly as it had come.
He was kissing and stroking her again. It felt wonderful. Just as before, she wanted more but he held himself still in her. This would not do. She began to twist and writhe below him. He groaned as if in great pain. “Eoin, what’s wrong?”
“Ah lass, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt ye more.”
“Ye aren’t hurting me, love. I want ye to—to—move.” She arched against him again.
“Oh Fiona…” he began to move slowly within her. She felt that tension building again. She countered his movements, lost once again in the intense sensations. Then, as it had moments ago, wave after wave of delight shuddered through her. In her rapture, she was only vaguely aware that Eoin’s body stiffened, he cried out and his warm seed filled her. She couldn’t think; she could barely breathe.
As she drifted slowly back to reality, he carefully withdrew from her and lay on his side, pulling her close. “I’m sorry I hurt ye, lass. It is always that way the first time, but I promise it won’t hurt again.”
“Eoin, the pain only lasted an instant. The rest was…well it was…I can’t describe it. Is it like that for everyone?”
He chuckled, “If they do it right.”
“It’s glad I am ye know how to do it right.”
He laughed outright. “My darling Fiona, ye delight me.”
She snuggled next to him. “I think it’s fair to say ye delight me too.”
~ * ~
She woke the next morning to find him propped on one arm, observing her. “Good morning, love.”
“Good morning, Eoin. What are ye doing?”
“Until just now, watching ye sleep.”
“Well that can’t have been very stimulating entertainment.”
“Ah, my sweet little bride, ye have no idea. It gives me ideas about all the very wicked things I could do to ye, but sadly, they will have to wait.”
“I think I like yer wicked ideas, why do we need to wait?”
He kissed her soundly. “I’m glad ye’re an eager bride, but I’m afraid ye might find yerself a little sore this morning. It is probably better to wait, at least until tonight. We have a lifetime ahead of us.”
She thought he was being a tad over-cautious until she rose from the bed. She was slightly uncomfortable, but moving around helped relieve the ache. She retrieved her plaid from where he had dropped it on the floor the night before, wrapping it around her shoulders. She wanted to wash. There was a washstand in one corner, but no screen. After all they had done together the night before, she knew it was foolish, but the idea of washing in front of him made her feel inexplicably shy.
He still lay on the bed watching her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Fiona. Not ever, about anything. Something is bothering ye. Please tell me what it is.”
“It’s silly, but, well, I was wondering if I could have some privacy to wash up.”
“Ahh. Feeling a bit shy, are ye?” He climbed out of bed, gloriously naked, and crossed to where she stood. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, deeply and passionately. Her hands went around his neck. Why did every sensible thought fly right out of her head when he kissed her? He broke the kiss and she sighed. She had dropped the plaid.
“It seems ye aren’t so shy when I’m kissing ye. Maybe we can be a little wicked this morning after all. Come with me, my love.” He took her hand, pulling her toward the washstand. He poured water from the pitcher into the bowl, dipped a piece of linen in the water and turned back to her.
“Ye aren’t going to kiss me while I wash.”
“Nay. I’m going to kiss ye while I wash ye.”
She gasped in horror, but his lips were on hers before she could protest. His tongue danced with hers, and then he suckled on her lower lip. Meanwhile, he rubbed the damp cloth on her back and down her arms. He turned from her for a moment to rinse the cloth, before starting again. He trailed kisses down her throat and across her collarbone while he slowly washed each breast, under her arms and her belly. Then after rinsing the cloth again, he kissed the moisture from her breasts, while with great care, he washed between her legs. She ran her fingers through his hair, lost in his caresses and not caring one whit that he was performing such intimate ablutions on her.
When he finished, he washed himself quickly before turning to face her. She seemed befuddled. He grinned. “Fiona, love, the next time ye’re feeling a bit shy, just let me know. I’ll be happy to take care of it for ye.”
She couldn’t suppress a giggle. He scooped her up and nuzzled her neck to make her giggle more. “Now that ye’re clean, shall I put yer clothes on ye, or can ye manage to do that in front of me yerself without dying of embarrassment?”
She slapped playfully at him. “Put me down, ye big eejit.”
“As ye wish, my lady.” He grinned and dropped her on the bed.
~ * ~
When they were finally dressed, they made their way down to the great hall. Anna practically ran to meet them, followed by Peggy, Marcas’ wife. Anna hugged them both enthusiastically, wishing them good morning, while Peggy watched, smiling indulgently. “Good morning, my lady, Laird.”
“Good morning Peggy,” they answered in unison.
“My lady, I know ye lost yer dear mother a number of years ago. I’m sure she is smiling down on ye this morning—ye’re a radiant bride. I would be honored if ye would allow me to tie on yer brèid in her stead.”
Fiona smiled and nodded, moved beyond words. A brèid, or kertch was a square of pure white linen, folded in half and worn by married women in the Highlands as a visible sign of their status. Every bit as important as a wedding ring to Highlanders, it was a symbol of the Holy Trinity, under whose care the bride would walk. Traditionally, a woman’s mother tied it on her the morning after she was married, asking for the blessings of the Holy Trinity on the young bride.
Peggy placed the kertch on Fiona, passing the ends under her hair and tying them on top of her head. “May the blessings of the Holy Trinity be on ye, and protect ye from all evil. May ye have health and strength and peace, and may ye live a life that is pleasing to God. As ye began yer married life blessed by God’s Holy Church, may ye continue to trust in Him, and may He always hear the prayers ye hold in yer heart.” Peggy kissed her cheek.
Then Anna hugged her again and kissed her. “I’m so glad ye have become my sister. Someday,” she glanced at her brother, “a very long time from now,” he rolled his eyes, “will ye tie my kertch on me?”
“Of course I will, Anna.”
Anna grinned before flitting off to the table, and Eoin muttered under his breath, “The problem will be finding someone to marry the little hellion.”
~ * ~
Traditionally clans feasted for three days to celebrate a wedding, but Fiona had argued against that. After all, it had only been several months since the old laird MacKay had passed away. For all she knew, her own brother had been recently killed.
On the other hand, Eoin argued that to do otherwise might send the wrong message. “People might think we aren’t thrilled about the prospect of marriage. I, for one, am overjoyed. I would feast for weeks.” At Fiona’s skeptical look he added, “My clan will want to celebrate this, love. Let’s
not disappoint them.”
Fiona finally agreed and the feasts were planned. Now, the second evening of feasting had started. It was barely underway when one of Eoin’s guardsmen entered the keep, looking travel weary. He spoke to Eoin in a low urgent voice. Eoin nodded. “Thank ye, Keir. We’ll prepare for him.”
“What is it, Eoin?”
He took both of her hands in his. “Fiona, when I heard that yer brother was missing, I couldn’t just stand by. I needed to discover what had happened; I owed ye that. I sent men to search and they have found him, alive.”
“Oh, thank God. Thank ye, ye don’t know what this means to me. What happened? Where is he?”
“Apparently he was attacked by outlaws on Ross land, very near the border of MacNicol and MacKay land. He was almost home. The two Munro warriors who were with him were killed and he was beaten badly and left for dead. An old crofter and his wife found him, barely alive, and have been caring for him since. They didn’t know who he was. Apparently he didn’t know who he was for a while. He was unconscious for days. It’s a wonder he survived.”
“How did yer men find him?”
“It was only by the Grace of God. They had searched the whole way between here and where he was last known to be on Munro land, but found no sign of him. They had given up hope and were returning home. They stopped briefly at the same croft to rest and water their horses.”
“I have to go to him.”
“He is on his way here, love. My men are bringing him. Keir rode ahead to let us know. But, Fiona, he is still very ill.”
Dread gripped her heart. “If he was so very ill, why did they take the chance of moving him?”
“I don’t know, sweetling. We’ll find out, but what’s done is done. See that yer old chamber is made ready for him. I’ll speak with Tearsag and make certain she has everything she might need at her disposal to care for him.”
Highland Revenge (Fated Hearts Book 1) Page 8
