‘I wished to make sure my daughters were ready to receive my unexpected guests. Curtsy to yer grandpa, lasses.’ He gave his father a half-bow, and the rest of them followed suit with curtsies. If aught, Sellie’s curtsy was lower than when she met Jack. This time he felt pride instead of surprise at her effort.
‘Well, now, my granddaughters are growing up.’ The McDonall briefly nodded at Aileen, and slowly ran his gaze over Sellie in a manner that curled the hairs on the back of Niall’s neck. ‘Come give yer grandpa a hug, lasses,’ he said, holding out his arms; but as the three of them bundled into his embrace, his smile was for Sellie.
A guid reason for Niall to butt in: ‘Introduce us to yer guests, Father.’
The McDonall chortled to his granddaughters, saying. ‘Aye, come and meet the guests lasses. I’ve brought ye a new mam.’
Chapter 15
Celestina
So this was Niall’s father. He had a likeness to his son but was coarser, his nose and cheeks fleshier. Celestina had already taken a dislike to the man, hated the way he’d looked at her, as if she were a dish of syllabub he would like to swallow. It made her spine shrink as if she were growing smaller.
‘Aye come and meet the guests lasses. I’ve brought ye a new mam,’ he crowed again, laughing as if it were a jest, making Celestina shrink even more, as if she would soon disappear leaving only her skirt and bodice in a pool on the flagstones.
In an instant she felt as if she hated the McDonall, yet in truth she could not tell why.
Mayhap it was the way he soon ignored his granddaughters, as well as Aileen and herself, then turned to Niall and, with a jerk of his head, said, ‘Have the nurse take the bairns upstairs. What needs to be said is not for young lasses ears.’
As if he hadn’t already said enough.
I’ve brought ye a new mam
Celestina had seen the way Fiona’s eyes had widened as she looked at her. Was it wrong of her to touch a finger to her lips? The little smile the youngster gave Celestina was filled with relief, and she could tell that Fiona remembered their secret and quickly took the hand she held to her as if it were a lifeline. Once Fiona moved nearer, the other two soon followed, arms winding around Celestina’s waist, fists gripping her skirts as they leaned close. She could feel their distress, for it was much like her own.
The crowd of folk the McDonall had brought in parted as Jack Grant strode through them, straight to Niall’s side, as if they were brothers, not simply comrades in arms. Niall nodded at Jack then eyed his father from under a dark lifted brow. ‘Jack Grant, my father, the McDonall. Jack is my lieutenant.’
‘A Grant? From Freuchie are ye?’
‘Aye.’ Jack answered, unawed, and gave the McDonall his shoulder. ‘The stables have been readied. Is there aught else I can do to help, captain?’ he said, amazing Celestina with his deferential manner, so different from his usual devil-may-care attitude, which made her realise he had already taken the McDonall’s measure.
‘Ye can see Sellie and the lasses safe up to the nurseries while Aileen sorts out the accommodation. Like myself, they’re not used to so many strangers about the place.’ Within a few minutes, Celestina and the bairns were on the journey upstairs to the nursery floor.
The speed of their dismissal had not stopped her noticing the tall woman with hair the same colour as Fiona’s, or the way the woman stared at the four of them as they wove through the folk crowding in behind the McDonall as if he were their lodestone.
Up in the nursery, Celestina set the two oldest, Ygraen and Beth, some tasks and Fiona, who looked about to cry any moment, she pulled into her lap on the chair Aileen usually occupied while tending to her charges. Giving the lass a cuddle, she whispered, ‘It’s all right, sweetling. Yer Pa will make things right.’
‘But Grandpa said he has brought us a new mam.’ Fiona hiccoughed, smothering a sob. ‘I want ye to be our mam.’
Celestina hugged her close and rocked her in her arms, giving her a hug and a squeeze. The lasses loved their Sellie, that was sure, and she loved them, all of them. They were the family she’d never thought to have, and they needed her. ‘That is because yer grandpa is not in on the secret yet.’
Fiona squeezed her back. ‘I willnae say aught.’
Niall
The McDonall had never done many guid turns. Ach aye, his father told himself the last arrangement had set Niall up grandly with a keep of his own. Looking back, Niall could find naught to like about it. A backhanded favour if ever there was one.
He was damned if he would ever give the McDonall another chance to ruin his life.
Unfortunately, the time wasnae right to set him straight; unlike his father, he didnae find any enjoyment in humiliating folk in front of others. Niall glanced at the red-haired lass and felt a short sharp burst of empathy, then drew it back. He saved it until later when he was certain she deserved it. He had been wrong once, and nae one could say he wasnae able to learn a lesson.
As soon as Jack had escorted Sellie and the lasses upstairs, Niall asked, ‘Is it yer intention to introduce me to my guests, McDonall?’. More importantly, he asked, ‘By the by, which one of yer followers is the priest?’ while waving Aileen over to his side.
After his father pointed out the priest, Niall smiled. The man looked pretty ordinary with nae apparent expectation of becoming a bishop. Hopefully that meant he wouldn’t object to presiding over the marriage of a Selkie. ‘Fine. Aileen will take him to his rooms. I’ve put him in Gordon’s auld apartments.’
‘Is that right? And where have ye put Gordon?’
He looked the McDonall straight in the eye. ‘Gordon? Him I hanged.’
Was it cruel of him to enjoy the look on his father’s face, slack-jawed and boggle-eyed. After not seeing him for years, he found pleasure revealing that at last he had come into his own.
‘I presume ye had guid cause?’ The McDonall asked, a strangely admiring glint in his eye.
Well, if standing up to his father made the man see his son in a different light for once, Niall had a notion that it wouldn’t be an isolated occasion. ‘As ye said about my bairns, some things are not for everyone’s ears.’
‘Ah, well, there’s time to talk later. Come and meet Nigel Snelling and his ward, Isabeau Corcoran. Her mother was French, which explains the name, but her parents were killed in a carriage accident trying to escape outlaws. She has a younger brother, and Snelling will see to him, so her husband has nae need to worry about bringing him up.’
‘And what has Snelling to gain?’ Niall grinned as if he wasnae being insulting. ‘He doesnae look like a man to do aught out the guidness of his heart.’
Snelling was one of yon folk ye could dislike even before ye had shaken his hand, and after ye did, made ye search out a basin of water to wash in, and it was difficult not to let it show. What, Niall wondered, had his father to do with this one? What did he have that his father wanted?
‘Heaps of money,’ the McDonall told him. ‘The lass is rich, plenty of silver, while the lad has the house and business. Snelling is a cousin of Corcoran, whau named them his wards. The lass is of age now, but her brother has only fourteen years under his belt.’
Niall could see it well. Snelling wanted the lass married off and far enough away that she couldn’t see how her brother was being treated. He felt sorry for the lad, and even sorrier after he’d given Snelling nae more than the tips of his fingers to shake.
As for Snelling’s other ward, the lass returned his grand bow with a minimal curtsy and half-closed eyes, as if she were frightened to look at him. She was another he sympathised with. He thought it certain the two conspirators had already confided their intent to the lass and that she wasnae over-enthused by the notion.
The feeling was mutual. That’s is why he made certain not to prolong the introductions.
The others were, as he had thought, hangers-on, parasites. On other hand, he couldn’t blame Isabeau for the duenna that hovered near her. It suited him. He had nae intention of getting
caught up in a compromising situation. It wasnae that Niall distrusted Isabeau; the lass had made her reluctance to wed him plain with that minimal curtsy; however, he wouldn’t put aught past Snelling or his father.
He had already found the lass he wanted to take as his wife and, as God was his saviour, he had nae notion what she would make of his father’s insinuations. The best he could do was make certain Aileen put Isabeau and her duenna well away from the chamber he shared with Sellie.
His heart thumped in his breast when he remembered how Sellie felt in his arms. He wasnae sure how much she had understood of his father’s interfering nonsense. He only hoped that he could reassure her when he took her in his arms tonight. He would cradle her there all night long. It was when he held her in his arms that he really felt alive.
Thankfully, the business of housing guests kept the McDonall off his back for a while. It was a task he shared with both Aileen and Jack; even so, three of his father’s men ended up with a choice of the stables or pallets in the Hall. This was his Keep, and Jack Grant his lieutenant, and even if his father had aught to say about it, he had nae intention of turning Jack out or offering his father the master’s chamber. Start as ye mean to go on, he told himself and continued to let his father ken who was the Laird of Inverbrevie.
At supper, seated in the centre of the table, he placed the McDonall on his right but Jack on his left and, since the Grant clan had more standing—a huge castle at Freuchie that put the smaller McDonall one to shame—his father made nae complaint. Snelling, as guardian of Isabeau Corcoran, was seated at one end of the table with a couple of his father’s men. Unfortunately, he still wasnae out of Niall’s sight. If there was anything guaranteed to put Niall off his meal, it was the man’s waxy white face. Isabeau and her chaperone sat at the other end of the table. It was the best he could do for her for the moment.
He did see her glance his way a time or two, but he wasnae so vain that he didnae eventually recognise it was Jack who had caught her eye.
Thanks to Jack, he was able to mire the conversation in the politics of France, Spain and England, a subject he and Jack were well versed in, and for once he was able to distract his father from the subject of the lass he had brought.
The only part of the evening that made him feel guilty was being aware that Sellie was eating her supper in the kitchen along with his daughters. He looked forward to the day Sellie could sit at the table as his wife and hostess. A swift picture slid into his mind of his father’s face on the day when he sat with them. An image that continued to stay with Niall through the rest of supper and enabled him to keep a smile fastened on his face.
The McDonall rounded off his meal with Uisge beatha and an urge to talk to his son privately, the last thing Niall wanted. ‘I’m sorry Father. It’s important that I speak with the priest.’
‘Aha, is this to do with Gordon? Do ye need to go to confession?’
Grim-faced, Niall said, ‘Nae, it’s not. But even if I needed him here so I could to go to confession, it would still be private.’
‘Aha, it’s to do with Flora. Ye feel guilty at leaving her so much to her own devices.’
Niall rolled his eyes. His father wasnae far off the mark, but that talk was for later, tomorrow. ‘As I said, it’s private. Let me escort ye up to yer chamber and make sure ye have everything ye need to be comfortable. Ye have come a long way today. Everything else can wait until the morrow.’
He also needed to be sure his father found the correct chamber and didnae stumble into the master’s. There had been a glint in the McDonall’s eye when he saw Sellie in the hall earlier. Widowed for many years, his father wasnae what he considered an auld man, and after his brother Hamish died, Niall had been surprised his father hadnae taken another wife, got more sons on her. Even if he had, though, unless Niall was dead and gone he would always be the McDonall’s heir.
Celestina
In the kitchen, naught appeared changed, if Celestina could forget the presence of Niall’s father in the Great Hall. The lasses appeared oblivious to any tension and chattered amongst themselves through supper. Aileen was not acting quite so obtuse. ‘Dinnae worry lass. Niall will make all right.’ She gave the lasses a quick glance. They were squabbling over something one of them had found. Nonetheless, she spoke in a whisper, ‘He’s a different lad from the one who wed Flora. Back then, if ye dinnae mind me saying, Niall was more naïve.’
It dawned on her as Aileen said it, that the only part of Niall’s life that seemed guileless was his belief in the stories Aileen had fed him all his life. Had Niall’s belief that she was a Selkie saved her life? She had discovered early on that Niall earned his money as a mercenary, fighting Spaniards, and wondered whether her nationality would have made any difference. Mayhap it was she who was naïve, believing everything would go smoothly now that Niall wanted her as a wife.
Part of Celestina considered seeking out the priest to clear her conscience by giving him her confession; another part hesitated. What if the priest was one who considered a full belly and a cellar full of wine more important than betraying his parishioners? The McDonall looked like a man who did not care to have aught take him by surprise.
Aileen finally lost her patience with the lasses. ‘Fiona, either put that away or give it to me,’ she snapped. ‘What would yer grandpa think to hear ye arguing like little heathens?’
Fiona spoke up. ‘It’s mine. I found it, but I’ll be guid and put it away.’
Thinking to calm the situation, Celestina suggested, ‘Since the meal is over, why not go to the nursery? Aileen can tell another of her stories. I like them. They teach me new words.’ Celestina was finding it more and more difficult to pretend she had learned to speak so quickly. It was one thing for Niall to believe in Selkie magic, but she was reluctant to push his credulity too far.
‘Can we say guidnight to Grandpa before we go to bed?’ Fiona asked. As usual, the lass would not have done well in Spain where girl children were supposed to be meek and obedient—the way she had been. Mayhap she needed to learn more than words.
It took three stories for them to fall asleep—one each, they said. Admittedly it had been a long day, trudging up and down the stairs and then all the excitement on top of that. For the lasses, meeting their grandfather was something of an occasion—one that did not happen often.
Lying alone in bed well into the night, she found herself wishing she could slip into sleep as easily as the lasses. Until the arrival of the McDonall, unanswerable thoughts had not teased her as they did now. She did not enjoy the new layer of uncertainty that kept her awake.
She missed Niall.
Missed the comfort of his arms.
His kisses.
Celestina’s last memory was of believing she would be awake all night, until she opened her eyes to the sensation of Niall’s mouth kissing the nape of her neck. Her insides folded in on themselves and melted. Instinctively, she began to roll over so that he might capture her mouth. ‘Nae.’ Niall stilled her with a hand grasping her hair, lifting it high until her neck was bared and the night air felt cool where his mouth had left its mark. ‘I want to taste you here, where you’re sweet as cherries, my bonnie lass.’
And he did, taste her turning her head to reach the spot beneath her earlobe, then the ear itself with a nibble, and the only sound she could get out was, ‘Mmmmh.’ There is naught as tender as a lover’s kisses.
He moved her shift until it rode low on her arms betwixt shoulder and elbow, and she allowed him to move her like a doll that had lost its stuffing, like a puppet without strings. Murmuring his name as he nipped her collarbone, Celestina gave up her soul to him and forgot about the lass who looked too much like his dead wife.
Tugging at the linen of her shift, Niall undressed her, sighing her name again and again, his breath shivering over her breasts, belly, and lower yet, as his mouth found the place that wept for him betwixt her thighs. Celestina’s body arched into him, a response beyond her control as he stole her b
reath, made her lungs seize until her head spun and naught mattered in the world but Niall and Celestina and what he was doing to her with fingers and mouth.
Then all thought left her as ripples floating up inside her sent a warning that her womb was about to flutter and clench as if in death throes.
Niall
Was there aught better than a warm, willing woman in his bed? He didnae think so—naught better than a warm, willing Sellie in his bed, and him a man that wasnae easy pleased. The truth of loving with Sellie was the need to be generous with her, to make sure she was pleasured and pleased before he reached for his own.
As he felt her reach the peak, he rose over her lithe, naked body, pushed her thighs wide and thrust inside her in search of the warm welcome he sensed awaited him. ‘A-a-ah, lass,’ he groaned as he filled her and felt her legs reach around his hips and hold him tight, as if she didnae want to let him go. Keeping him there by caressing his hard prick with her soft lass’s channel.
Each thrust took him higher, high enough that his head scraped the midnight sky and sent him burling down to earth with a yell of triumph escaping his throat—a sensual chorus of pleasure as Sellie joined him.
Shaking, his arms collapsed, sent him plummeting atop Sellie from his eyrie in the sky. Reacting quickly, he caught her up in his arms and rolled, a soft, sweetly scented bundle of delight that he couldn’t bear to let go.
He kissed the top of her head, smoothing back the tangle of dark hair that had formed a veil across her face. ‘Promise ye will never leave me, bonnie lass. Yer the only thing in my life that makes it worth living.’
‘I promise.’ Sellie tilted her head. He could see her eyes glistening in the dark as she planted a kiss on his bristly chin, saying, ‘Rough, manly, I like it.’
Niall brushed the back of a finger across her cheek, felt her skin grow hot at his touch. ‘Did I hurt ye, lass? Yer my precious gem, my wee aquamarine, and I wouldn’t hurt ye for the world.’
That earned her another kiss. ‘What happened? The lasses were worried. Has yer Pa fetched ye a bride? One like Flora.’
Bride From the Sea Page 12
