The Highlander’s Challenge (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  Uncle Brien looked up when two pairs of footsteps crossed over into his domain. His eyes were wide when Duncan walked up to the desk.

  “I found it. Both of them. We can marry now.”

  “Oh?” Brien looked surprised. He leaned back, his customary detachment dropping down over his features. “Tell me.”

  Alina stood back, making herself less noticeable, knowing that her uncle would not wish her to know the secrets Duncan uncovered about his past. She did not need to worry about it: as Duncan talked, Uncle Brien grew more and more attentive. When Duncan described her, Alina saw Uncle blink rapidly. He lifted a kerchief and cuffed away a stray tear with some irritation.

  Alina felt her own heart contract. Uncle Brien had truly loved Lady Benoite. It was worse than sad that he had never found the courage to ask for her hand in person: it was a tragedy.

  When they had finished the account, her uncle looked up at them.

  “You came, no doubt, to have my answer. The one to the question you did ask.”

  Duncan nodded. He licked his lips nervously, smiling at Uncle Brien.

  “Well, it is yes to the first question: that is the pearl mislaid. Yes to the second. And to the very first question, which I think was a matter of weddings, and hands of my great-niece and some such...my answer is also yes. You may. With all my blessing.”

  Alina looked at Duncan, who looked back at her. She felt her throat close with emotion. She smiled at her uncle and, when he smiled back, she saw something of the boyish, idealistic youth who had sent them on this quest, who had loved lady Benoite with all his heart and lost her to uncertainty.

  “Thank you, Uncle Brien,” she whispered.

  “Thank you,” Duncan said.

  “Well, then,” Uncle Brien said after a long moment. “Off with you. I'm busy. And now I have a wedding to think about, too.”

  Alina laughed. Duncan grinned. Looking at each other, they took hands and walked briskly out into the late afternoon sunshine, shining in the hallway outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  WEDDING IN THE FORTRESS

  WEDDING IN THE FORTRESS

  Alina looked at the face in the mirror. She took a deep breath. Long black hair brushed to a curtain of satin by her face, her brow wreathed in orange blossom, the face was pale and ethereal, with deep dark eyes and dark red lips with their classic Gaulish pout.

  Is that really me?

  She huffed a laugh. It was – of course it was – but it seemed so unlikely! The figure in the mirror gave a slightly nervous grin. She wore a long straight dress of imported silk, its bodice coming to a point and encircled with a kirtle of silver. The skirt flowed out from below the kirtle, its voluminous folds shining like light on water as it fell from her tall, slender form.

  “What?” A teasing voice asked from behind her. Alina looked over her shoulder in the mirror to see Amabel, obviously pregnant now, standing behind her. She was grinning.

  “I just...” Alina trailed off. She could not find the words.

  “You look so beautiful, my beautiful sister,” Amabel said gently. She stroked her shoulder, the satiny cloth changing its play of light as her fingers indented the long tube-sleeve.

  Alina swallowed hard. “As do you, dear.”

  Amabel laughed. Dressed in a long russet velvet gown, the color of deep claret, bronze lace trimming the skirt, she did look lovely. “I don't think anyone will be looking anywhere but at you,” Amabel smiled.

  “Nonsense,” Alina snorted. “I can think of someone.”

  Amabel blushed.

  They were interrupted by the sound of feet. Chrissie burst in. Dressed in a pale blue gown, her hair arranged on her head in a style that almost managed to tame her curls, she was flushed and smiling.

  “I found the bouquet!” she said happily. “We can have hyacinth.”

  Alina swallowed hard. They were her favorites – harbingers of springtime, the brightest colors in winter. She turned to Chrissie.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Her voice wobbled dangerously.

  “Not at all,” Chrissie said, leaning up to kiss her cousin on her porcelain cheek. The cheek beneath Alina's lips was smooth and warm, flushed with exertion. “Heath helped me...he knows where they grow, how to grow them indoors in winter.”

  “No, he didn't,” a voice said from the corridor. All three of them turned round abruptly.

  “Heath, no!”

  “You're not allowed in here!”

  The women all chorused it, and Heath, laughing, moved off along the corridor.

  A moment later, as the three women made final adjustments to their gowns, Alina frowning as she moved the kirtle to allow the skirt to lie to best advantage, they heard footsteps in the corridor.

  “Niece?”

  Alina turned. Uncle Brien was waiting in the hallway, an uncertain grin on his face. Dressed in a long green cloak and gray tunic, he looked elegant, his long white hair brushed until it was shining.

  “Uncle.”

  She gave him a dazzling smile and took his arm and together they walked from the room.

  I have often argued with this man, Alina thought, contemplating Brien as they descended the staircase at Dunkeld. However, I am fonder of him than I would ever have imagined.

  They walked down the hallway and through the courtyard and out to where the chapel was built. Then they entered. All Alina's thoughts poured together into a focus on the man standing at the front of the small chapel, the light pouring down on him from the roundel above the altar.

  Tall, the light striking on his golden brown hair, Duncan wore the forest green cloak of Dunkeld draped from his wide, strong shoulders. He turned and looked at her as the congregation hushed. He smiled.

  Alina bit her lip. The love in that smile hit her like a blow, astounding her with its depth and intensity.

  She smiled back.

  I love you, Duncan MacConnoway. I love you with all my heart.

  The ceremony was brief, conducted by the priest resident at Dunkeld. Alina's Latin was polished and Duncan's less so, and he gave her a rueful grin as he stumbled on the phrases. She smiled back and their hands met, sending a spark tingling down her arm.

  Then, before either of them could realize it, the ceremony was over. The priest blessed them. They could kiss.

  Duncan turned to Alina and slowly lifted the gauzy veil. He leaned towards her.

  Their lips met.

  The kiss was intense, but chaste at once. A blend of passion, longing, and the purest flame of love that made Alina feel as though her whole body was melting, ignited by the flame of that love.

  She looked up into his eyes and he looked into hers.

  A world of love and longing shone in his gaze and, hers, looking up at him, reflected it. I know now, Alina thought hazily, as they turned to face the congregation, that stories are not just for children. True love does exist, and you find it in the most unexpected places.

  Together, hand in hand, they walked down the aisle, the cheers and congratulations raining down as they, laughing and crying, walked out of the chapel and into the pale sunshine beyond.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A WONDROUS NIGHT

  A WONDROUS NIGHT

  The banquet had passed as a hazy blur. Alina, sitting beside Duncan, had been too tired, too elated, to eat much. She had smiled at the jokes and laughed at Amabel and Broderick's stories. As she started to tire, Duncan had gently led her away into the courtyard beyond.

  In the courtyard, their lips met. Alina felt a slow, trembling heat start to fill her. She was wife to Duncan now. Now they could be all they had always longed to. Her body pressed against his and through the satiny gown she could feel every hard contour of him, pressing against her form.

  Under the bright, chiseled winter starlight, they kissed. Again and again. With each kiss, Alina felt her body melt a little further, reach new places of longing.

  “Duncan?” she breathed. Her lips were bruised with loving, her fingers in his hair.
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  “Yes?”

  “Can we..?” She looked around. For she and Duncan to sneak away from the banquet, without the raucous ceremony of putting them to bed, would have been unthinkable. Yet, it was exactly what she wanted. This was their love, their expression of their union. She did not wish it to be a thing others would share.

  “Yes.”

  “Duncan?” Alina smiled up at him incredulously. He was grinning a dangerous, giddy grin, his tawny eyes warm. She could hardly believe he would agree to something monumental so lightly.

  “What?” he asked. He shrugged. “What if we go up now? They can hardly stop us! And in the morning they will simply be too happy to share in our joy to even think to reprimand us.”

  Alina looked up into his eyes. She was almost as tall as him, perhaps an inch or two apart. She grinned as recklessly as he had.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her long arms twined around his neck, dipping his head to hers for another kiss.

  They smiled and, hand in hand, they walked as quietly as they could from the courtyard to the inner hallway.

  They raced up the stairs to where the bedchamber had been prepared for them. Alina breathed in the scent of rosemary and fresh rushes, the warmth of logs in the grate. Then all her senses were overwhelmed as Duncan leaned against the door, closing it behind him. His mouth descended onto hers, his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close.

  Alina felt his tongue slide between her lips, probing her mouth with an urgency he never had before. She let him explore her mouth and leaned against him, her arms encircling his body, holding him against her.

  His lean muscled chest pressed against her breasts and she loved the sensation, wanting more. Still kissing, they walked back towards the bed. He broke the kiss a moment, looking down into her eyes.

  “Alina?”

  His eyes were reckless, his voice thick with longing. Alina felt the joy of feeling so desired seep into her, making her whole body glow with warmth.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He swallowed hard and, very gently, drew the silk of her sleeve down, letting the neck of her dress slide past her shoulder. He kissed the exposed skin and Alina gasped as his hot lips seemed to scald her even as he made such gentle lapping, nipping motions that she felt tickled.

  His fingers undid the fastening of her gown, working slowly as he kissed each inch of skin as it appeared. First the cleft between her collarbones, then the line of her breastbone. Then, at last, when the dress slid to her waist, he stood back.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder, just looking at her. Her long dark hair hung around her body, the skin pale in the candlelight.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  Alina smiled. His words, the look in his eyes, made her womb stir inside her, filling her with the strangest sensation that was joy and longing all rolled into one.

  “You're not exactly an eyesore yourself,” she said, almost before she could stop the words from leaving her mouth. He had shed his tunic at some point, and the firelight played over his rippling muscles, painting shadows on the gleam of skin and the clefts and tendons on his upper arms.

  He looked at her with a surprised laugh.

  “Thank you, my wife,” he said, voice thick with sincerity.

  She bit her lip. It was true. He was everything she had ever imagined and all the things she could not have imagined.

  Feeling bold, she walked across the room towards him, letting her hand rest on his warm, muscled shoulder.

  He shivered as she ran a hand down his body.

  “Oh, lass,” he said, voice raw. “You make me want you so much.”

  Alina smiled up at him. “I hope so.”

  He stared at her again, and laughed. “My. I am the luckiest man in the world.”

  She leaned against him, her body warmed by his skin, and felt the strange wonder of his skin against her own, the warmth against her breast, as they kissed.

  He led her to the bed and there they lay down together, side by side.

  He propped himself up on one elbow, hand tracing her smooth waist.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, awed.

  Alina felt her whole body shiver under his tender glances.

  Duncan could not stop looking at Alina. She was, beyond a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was like flawless alabaster, her hair a silk cloak. Her face, with those deep eyes a man could drown in. Her body was...I don't think even poets know the words, he thought, as he looked at her, drinking in every curve.

  She was tall and slim, her breasts high and plushly full, her nipples pink and firm. Her waist was deep carved; her long legs pressed together, just hiding and revealing a pink cleft.

  Duncan felt his whole body taut. He did not want to do anything but look, yet the rest of him was aching, shivering, and full with need. He leaned in and kissed her again, feeling his body quiver as it touched hers.

  “Lass,” he whispered into her hair.

  She nestled closer and his body overwhelmed all else.

  He smiled and moved down her, reaching her breasts. He looked at them, so perfect, pointed and tipped in palest rose. He could not believe skin was as warm and soft as the skin he touched. He leaned in and sampled one, letting his lips clamp around her nipple, feeling it tense under his tongue.

  “Oh!”

  Her moan of delight fired him even more, so he teased it gently, plying his tongue across the hardened tip. She moved beneath him seemingly unsure whether to lie there or move away, and sat up slowly.

  “I've no hurt you, have I, lass?”

  Alina's eyes opened. The pupils were round, her eyes black in the darkened room. “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured. “Not even slightly.”

  He chuckled, feeling her pleasure fill him with greater pleasure. He moved to her other breast, taking that between his lips and then, slowly, let his hand wander to rest on her belly. He felt her shiver and waited a moment, then moved down.

  When he reached the parting of her thighs she made a small sound. He looked up at her, but her eyes were closed, her mouth curved in a look that looked pleased. He smiled too, and moved lower down.

  When his hand slid into the warm cleft between her thighs he had to bite his lip to stop himself crying out aloud. He could not believe how ready she was! He could not resist moving down lower still and, gently, extending his tongue.

  When he licked her there, she tensed and cried out. He smiled, knowing it to be an expression of longing – he already knew some of her lexicon of sounds. He repeated his act, lapping the cleft of warm, moist skin and feeling the experience fire him to greater and greater longing as she moaned and bucked.

  When he finally rose up and moved over her, her eyes opened once in drowsy delight.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes...”

  The whisper was all he needed. Moving down, adjusting his weight, he found her opening and slid into her. He met resistance and waited, then pushed more gently. She moaned, a sound of pain, and he stopped, against all desire to carry on. His body was screaming, each nerve straining, as if wild horses tugged him. He looked at her face.

  “Well?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  He moved then. Moved and moved and moved. He was a body, drawn to the fullest, most exquisite place of longing, quivering on the peak of something that would transport him to another world, if only he moved within this warmth, and moved...

  “Oh...” he was gasping, shuddering, shaking, so near to climax that he thought he might explode. However, he did not want to reach it...not yet. He pulled back, and went more slowly, moving and moving and …

  “Oh. Oh!” Alina was crying out now, her body shuddering as they moved together, slick with perspiration. As he opened his eyes she gave a sudden, shuddering cry and gasped, then lay very still. He smiled. She was smiling.

  He moved then, letting his own climax build and build inside him, lifting him up and up and...When he reached it, it broke like a wave
on the ocean, thrilling through his blood like fire. He gasped and groaned, pumping in her as his body took over, going through the motions while his mind, floating in paradise, knew nothing.

  Later, as he lay on her chest, and then beside her, cradling her in his arms, his body still inside hers, he leaned over and kissed her. Her face was wet with tears but she was smiling.

  “Alina,” he whispered, stroking damp tendrils off her brow. “My best love.”

  “Duncan,” she whispered. She had no words. She wrapped her arms around him and together they fell into a deep, happy sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  NEW LIFE

  NEW LIFE

  Alina stood in the corner of the great chamber at Dunkeld. The fire was banked to roaring, making her sweat in her long velvet gown.

  “Here is the Vervain, mistress.”

  “Thank you,” Alina said briefly to Blaire, as she brought in a bowl of steaming tincture. It was the best rinse for wounds she knew. Blaire left it where Alina directed and then Alina walked over to where Amabel laid, brow slick with sweat, looking up.

  “You are well?” Alina asked. She could see her sister was in some pain, though she looked calm – every time a contraction passed through her, she tensed, her face stiffening, and then relaxed.

  “I am,” Amabel whispered. “I am glad you're here.” She reached out and held Alina's wrist, fingers gripping the slender form of it.

  “As am I,” Alina said. She looked into her sister's eyes and grinned. “It's bad enough having to live with Mistress MacFarlane as it is, without having her in here now.”

  Both sisters laughed. The old midwife was not allowed in under Alina's strict rules of the bedchamber – both girls had lost their mother in childbirth and the thought of trusting anyone except each other was something they could not think of.