The MacAulay Bride

by Nancy Pirri

  "Don't do this," he warned. He pulled her against him and spoke softly into her ear. "You must sign or it may be years before you return to America. Remember your goal?"

  Her hand tightened on the paper, but he easily wrested it from her grip. He smoothed the parchment flat on the small table beside the bed. Brianna held her curled fist against her mouth.

  "I can't do it! I won't!"

  "My heir must remain in Scotland with me."

  Brianna was unable to believe he'd force her to give up her babe. She recalled when they'd first discussed handfasting, even though he'd warned her about it, she hadn't believed him.

  "I've changed my mind," she replied. "You'll have to look elsewhere for your brood mare." She picked up her reticule and rushed toward the door, but stopped with his next words.

  "I gather you've decided to stay in Scotland, rather then return to America. Think about this, Brianna. It will be ten years before Harry reaches twenty-one, and twelve for Jamie. If that's what you want, so be it."

  She stilled when he reached around her to open the door. She had to think quickly. After a moment, she decided in the final analysis, he couldn't possibly hold her to this heartless agreement. Could he?

  "Wait." She faced him, her back against the door. "All right."

  "You will sign?" His eyes blazed fiercely into hers.

  She nodded, knowing she had no choice.

  He left the room and returned shortly with the innkeeper. Mr. Drummond wore a quizzical expression, and Harrison an expectant look as they waited for her. Before she could think to change her mind she raced to the table, reached for the fountain pen and scribbled her signature.

  There! It was done! Closing her eyes, she held onto the sides of the table, her head hanging, all the while unable to believe she'd signed the document. She heard the door open and close, then felt big, strong hands engulf her shoulders.

  "Thank you, Brianna," Harrison whispered, his warm breath feathering her ear. "You'll be the saving of the MacAulays. The clan will be forever grateful, and I am in your debt."

  She pulled away from him, turned and stared out the window, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  He murmured, "I'll see you downstairs shortly."

  She maintained her position at the window until she heard the door close. Then she sobbed, sank to the bed and buried her head in the pillow.

  Oh, my Lord! What have I done?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Somehow, Brianna found the fortitude to go through with the handfasting without bolting. She thought about it, but each time she tried drawing her hand from Harrison's grip he kept firm possession of it. Drat it! Could the man read minds?

  She glanced down at the ring on the third finger of her left hand, stunned by the exquisite sapphire encircled with small diamonds. It had been Harrison's mother's betrothal ring. Now she waited, shaking like the proverbial sacrificial lamb, for her husband to bed her. Not only was he her handfasted husband, but her forthcoming lover, as well, the man with whom she'd decided to breed. She would succeed, she knew, and then she'd receive her reward--freedom to return to America.

  She reached out and doused the lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness. Only a bit of light filtered into the room from the street lamps outside. She frowned as she studied the room, thinking it appeared too intimate without the light. She reached out to light it, but decided against it. It would be easier facing him in the darkness.

  She threw herself back on the bed, thoroughly enjoying the pleasant, dizzy sensation drifting through her body, and the fuzzy feeling in her head. She would have consumed more of the fine champagne during their wedding supper if Harrison hadn't stopped her, saying he had no intentions of bedding a besotted bride. His desire was for her to remember every moment of their joining the morning after.

  Restlessly she rose and went to the window. It was midnight now. She pressed her nose against the glass, gasping in delight when she saw flakes of snow falling from the sky.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Harrison asked.

  She started, for she hadn't heard him enter. He held two long-stemmed glasses in one hand and a tall brown bottle in the other. Apparently, his plans had changed, if they were going to consume spirits. He placed them on the bedside table, before lighting the lamp. His silver eyes gleamed at her.

  "The snow doesn't hold a candle to your beauty."

  Brianna had no idea how to reply to the rather clichéd compliment. She smiled, silently thanking him for trying to ease her nervousness. But when he focused his gaze on her, she shivered. Raising her hands, she covered her breasts.

  Harrison looked upon his handfasted wife. Mine! No one would take her from him. She wasn't classically beautiful, but pretty in her own unique way. Her dark hair, a mere shade lighter than his own, shimmered as it cascaded in waves around her shoulders. Her eyes, reminded him of the sapphire ring he'd placed on her finger earlier that evening. They were her best feature. "Don't be embarrassed," he said.

  Slowly she lowered her hands and clasped them tightly at her waist.

  He shed his jacket and waistcoat as he approached her, dropping them carelessly to the floor. His eyes remained on hers the entire time he undressed. By the time he reached her he wore only his kilt. He grinned when Brianna's gaze traversed his body from head to toe. Let her look. Let her get to know me. "Do you like what ye see?"

  She tilted her head and nodded.

  He laughed at her stunned expression, and her uncharacteristic silence. His smile slipped when she boldly reached out and traced an index fingernail over the veins in his chest, dipping lower until she reached his waistline. Finally, she raised her eyes to his.

  "Aren't you going to finish undressing? You are...beautiful."

  Stepping close he slipped a hand behind her head. "The feeling is mutual, my darling bride. And to answer your first question, I'll undress shortly, but first, my only desire is to pleasure you."

  He lowered his head and before he touched her lips, she whispered woefully, "I'm not a true bride."

  "You are," he insisted. "Never doubt it."

  He feathered his lips across hers until he felt her go limp in his arms. Then he maneuvered her toward the bed. While he plundered her mouth, he removed her hairpins and dropped them carelessly to the floor.

  She broke away and pushed against his chest, panting.

  He smiled. "Do I take your breath away?"

  "You know you do!"

  His grin faded. "It is going to be very good between us. I plan on leaving you breathless this night, and every night to come."

  "You may certainly try," she whispered, her lips curving into a sweet smile.

  He stilled when she pressed her body fully against him and raised her arms around his neck. Groaning aloud, he wound a fist around a mass of black curls, anchoring her against his shoulder. He lowered her to the bed. He followed her, continuing his sweet assault on her mouth and rolled her beneath him.

  She pressed her hands against his shoulders. "Finish undressing."

  Saying a silent prayer of thanks for this wonderful woman, he rose, though he was reluctant to leave her even for a moment. As he crossed the room he snatched up his shirt and jacket from the floor. When he reached the armoire he hung them up. Deliberately, he faced her and removed his kilt. He grinned when Brianna focused on his groin and her mouth gaped. He knew she was astonished that he hadn't worn any drawers, but no upright-standing Scotsman would think of wearing them beneath his kilt.

  He strutted toward her. When he reached the bed he leaned across it. She fell back, giggling. Feeling like giggling himself, Harrison grinned instead like the king's fool. He crawled onto the bed and nibbled her neck. After straddling her hips, he took both of her wrists in one hand and raised them above her head.

  She writhed beneath him, laughing.

  Between nibbles, he asked, "What in the world is so funny?"

  "You!" She laughed even more. She managed to pull her hands from his gentle grip.

  "How so,
my lady wife?"

  Brianna reached up and stroked one black lock of hair off his forehead. "The way you walked over here, your 'jewels' were bobbing out in front of you. You reminded me of a prancing fancy peacock!"

  He grinned. "It's part of the mating ritual," he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of one breast. "The male species tends to show himself off to his best advantage when trying to impress a lady."

  "Yes, well, I believe your front side is quite remarkable," she said. Her eyes were focused on the area. She reached for his spectacles, but he grasped her wrist.

  "I want to see you. It seems I've waited a lifetime to make love to you, and I intend to see your every expression." He lowered his head and gently bit the side of her neck. "You taste good enough to eat," he growled. He bit harder, eliciting a surprised gasp from her.

  "You don't mean that literally, do you?"

  He just smiled as he sat back on his haunches. He trailed his hands down her body, lightly fingering her breasts, gauging her reaction. She trembled as he slid his hands down to her hips and dragged up her nightdress. Then he scooped her up with a hand beneath her back, pulled it over her head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. He laid her down gently then leaned to the side, snatching up the champagne bottle and a glass from the floor. He had wicked plans in mind for the wine. Drinking it was well down on the list.

  "What are you doing?" She reached for the hand-pieced quilt he'd pulled to the foot of the bed.

  "I'm parched." He smiled when he heard her faint sigh of disappointment. Yes, she wanted him, wanted what he could give her. He poured a full glass of liquor and drank, then offered her a taste.

  Brianna placed her lips where his had been. Sipping carefully, she met his gaze over the edge of the glass. He tilted it up too far and the golden liquid spilled down her chin, dribbled past her neck, settling between the sweet valleys of her breasts. She gasped and started to sit up. He stayed her with his hand, then flicked one peach-tinted nipple with his tongue.

  She arched her hips off the bed. "Oh, my!"

  Harrison lapped up the champagne, his tongue trailing around the outer perimeter of one magnificent breast. Soon the circles he made grew smaller and smaller, until his lips and tongue rimmed the nipple. He bit down gently and rolled the turgid flesh between his teeth.

  "Oh, God!"

  She lurched up. "Be still, sweetheart," he ordered. He yanked off his spectacles and tossed them onto the bedside table. This close he could see her very well. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? Since you have made love." He placed the bottle on the table.

  "Two years."

  Harrison groaned inside at the thought of Brianna not having been with a man for so long. His manhood hardened and throbbed with a dull ache. He viewed her glowing skin, then lowered his head and continued torturing her aroused, moisture-slicked body. Soon she was gasping and panting, her body arching as she dug her heels into the mattress. Harrison raised his head and met her eyes once more, a grin upon his lips.

  A small frown marred her brow. "Are you laughing at me?"

  "Yes, I suppose I am. I don't believe I've ever seen you at a loss for words."

  Before she could even think of a retort, Harrison slid off the end of the bed and knelt on the floor. He took her thighs in his hands, lifted and settled her long legs over his shoulders.

  "Harrison, no-o-o!" she wailed, struggling in his grip.

  His hands moved up and clasped her buttocks. Easily he tamed her struggles. Positioning her close to his parted lips he rapidly flicked his tongue over her pink nub until her low moans increased in volume.

  He placed a finger against her lips. "Hush, sweet. We don't want to wake the entire inn," he warned.

  She dug her fingers into the mattress and clenched the muslin sheet. "Why are you doing this? I won't let you. I won't!"

  Harrison held onto her squirming body and looked at her sternly. "Ah, but you will, Brianna. Do ye remember what you did to me the first night we arrived at Winterhaven?" he casually inquired.

  She scowled. "I did nothing!"

  He watched her in silence and grinned wickedly when her eyes widened in alarm. She remembered all right, and he planned on her remembering this night the rest of her life.

  "You cannot mean to...oh, my God!"

  "Ah, I see I've refreshed your memory. Have you any idea how you tormented me that evening? Any idea how difficult it was for me to keep my hands away from all the tempting places on your sweet body, knowing I didn't have the right to touch you?"

  She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut.

  "I've the right now, wife," he said. "And the only advice I have for you is to relax and enjoy it."

  He focused on her sweet core, mercilessly taking her from the brink of one delicious plateau to the next, stopping and denying her release, time and time again. After a long while he raised his head and was satisfied to see her face contorted in aroused frustration. She was beautiful and she was his to do with as he wished.

  Her litany of words broke the silence. "Oh, please, oh, please. I want you to..."

  "Go on," he encouraged, gently parting her, pressing down on her with his thumb. "Say it, Brianna." She didn't, so he barely brushed her with his thumb.

  She thrashed her head from side to side and her breathing quickened. When she was on the verge of reaching fulfillment, his fingers stopped. "Say it and you will receive what you desire."

  Her eyes shot open and she stared at him. After a long, tense moment of silence she whispered fiercely, "Damn you, I won't."

  "Ah, sweet curses," he said, laughing. "I've missed your colorful swearing of late."

  "You hate it!" Then she muffled her shriek behind her hand when his fingers moved in a quick rhythm once more.

  He paused and smiled when she gave another shriek.

  "My God," Harrison said, "Don't tell me you have actually been obeying me for a change?"

  She didn't reply.

  It was growing damned difficult to control his body's response to her. Finally, knowing she'd won by denying him the words he wanted to hear, Harrison said, "Since I cannot wait any longer, you win."

  He aroused her again to unbearable heights of pleasure with his lips and tongue. He moved her to small gasps, then long, drawn out cries as her body reached a shuddering climax. Brianna was languid, barely lucid when he slid onto the bed and positioned himself between her thighs. She cried out in delight when he slid deep inside her. He drew her into his arms and held her close, then rolled her to one side, his lips bruising hers. She loved that brutal kiss. Wanted more.

  With agonizing slow strokes he moved in and out of her body, watching her the entire time. Even as he slipped one hand between them and stroked her until she convulsed around him. When he reached his own climax, she anchored him against her, holding him until his shuddering eased. Eventually, he rolled off her, but kept her in his arms. A tear dropped onto his naked chest, startling him. He tipped up her chin and met her eyes. "Did I hurt you, sweetheart?"

  "Oh, no," she said wistfully.

  "Then why are you crying?"

  "It...it was so wonderful."

  He smiled and kissed her gently. "Yes, it was." He lowered his head to take another kiss but paused with her next words.

  "It is rather sad, and bothersome that we aren't in love, nor are we legally wed. But, this is, after all, a business arrangement and sentiment shouldn't play any part in it."

  He hugged her close. "We'll marry in the morning."

  She sat up and glared at him, clutching the sheets to her breast. "But we don't love each other!"

  "I'm willing to marry you, Brianna, if it will make you feel less..."

  "Less what?"

  "Doesn't matter." He sat up and poured another glass of champagne. Gulping it down, he coughed violently with her next whispered words.

  "Less like your whore, you mean?"

  "That's not at all what I think!" He scowled at her. "Though it is, I believe, what you feel about you
rself."

  "Hogwash!" she exclaimed.

  "Then why are you upset?"

  "Is it the truth you want?"

  He nodded and she continued, "Moments ago, as we made love, I felt helpless, and out of control. I hated the power you had over me." She kneaded the blanket against her breasts. "It was as if this love-making between us was some sort of spectacular sport and you were the spectator while I provided the entertainment. I felt you watching me until you decided not to hold yourself in check any longer."

  "Ah, but what sweet torment." He rose and moved to the window, uncaring of his state of undress.

  "Perhaps, in time, I'll tell you about..." Harrison started, as he turned to her. He smiled when he saw she'd fallen asleep. She was too perceptive. It bothered him that she'd learned him so well in such a short time. But, he was the Patriarch of Clan MacAulay, and it was important he remain in control of himself at all times. Which was the precise reason he'd been furious with himself that first night at Winterhaven.

  Of course, he'd offered to rub the liniment into her sore muscles. He had, in fact, been eager to, since he'd waited years to touch her. It wasn't her fault that just the sight of her near naked beauty had caused him to climax.

  He'd possessed mistresses over the years, and had never felt cheated when he'd denied them pleasuring him with their hands and lips. Pumping away and controlling his climax was imperative. If Brianna wasn't happy about it, well, it wasn't important. She'd agreed to their arrangement. Her job was to birth him an heir. He sighed and decided an apology of sorts was in order. That should appease her, for he hated seeing her unhappy.

  Long ago memories of his initiation into lovemaking at the hands of his father's mistress entered his mind. He'd been just fourteen. Even after all these years he still felt humiliated when he recalled how he'd so easily climaxed with the first laving of the woman's lips on his cock. She had come to him often after that, continuing to take him for months in that fashion.

  He'd enjoyed the attention at first--had been helpless to stop her. How he'd hated the power she held over him. With each subsequent encounter he'd felt less and less fulfilled. Over time he had managed to slow his mounting pleasure. But to his immense humiliation, he couldn't hold back indefinitely. The woman had been a professional, and he was falling in love with her.