Claimed by the Highland Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  She turned around, her clear green eyes meeting his face. ‘Only if you try to eat.’

  ‘I’ll eat,’ he agreed. But he couldn’t resist grazing his hand against her cheek. She reddened and touched her face, shivering slightly.

  Dougal stalked away after Ross released him, his tight anger evident within his posture. He’d been humiliated before everyone and no doubt he’d want to sulk in private. Though Bram wanted to talk to him, he understood that it wasn’t a good time.

  When Ross came forwards, his smile was so broad, it nearly split his face. ‘Bram!’ He gripped him in a hug so tight, it nearly crushed his lungs.

  The older man released him, pounding him on the back. ‘By God, it’s a miracle t’see you again.’ With a gleam in his eye, he prompted, ‘Alex, we’ll be needing a few barrels to celebrate.’ Then his gaze fell upon Nairna. ‘And you’ve brought your lass home again.’ His smile turned teasing. ‘After seven years, we all know what you’ll be doin’ tonight.’ A loud laugh erupted from the old man. ‘Next summer, I suppose we’ll be celebrating the birth of a bairn!’

  There were resounding cheers from the other men, but Bram didn’t miss the pain upon Nairna’s face, though she tried to smile.

  ‘Did you find Laren?’ Alex asked Nairna, but she shook her head.

  ‘She returned with your daughters and is preparing them for bed,’ Ross interrupted. ‘I imagine she’ll be here soon enough.’

  Frustration lined Alex’s face as he gave a brief nod. But Nairna intervened, saying, ‘Don’t trouble yourself if she’s busy with the children. I’ll be glad to meet her in the morning.’

  Alex gave a nod, but Bram saw the way his eyes drifted above stairs. There was something unreadable in his brother’s expression, almost a sense of regret, before Alex turned back to them.

  ‘Where is the mead?’ Ross reminded the chief. ‘We should drink to Bram’s return!’

  Alex managed a smile and gave the order. ‘We’ll drink tonight,’ he proclaimed, ‘and tomorrow, we’ll have a feast.’

  Though Bram understood that his brother was trying to welcome him back, the last thing he wanted was to be the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d survived captivity and come home. It was enough.

  ‘For now, I want to find a place for Nairna and I to sleep,’ Bram responded. They needed shelter, and from the look of the keep, there wasn’t much room. He didn’t want his wife sleeping on the earthen floor amid the stench of rushes. He wanted privacy from everyone else, a place where they could retreat in solitude.

  ‘I’ll find something,’ Alex agreed.

  As more and more people joined them within the keep, the noise level rose higher and the mead flowed. So many of his clansmen came to welcome him, asking questions, until Bram found himself having to repeat himself time and again.

  The crowds made him agitated, with so many people he hadn’t seen in years. Though he tried to manage it, speaking to each one, he felt himself growing more weary and less interested in food.

  ‘Here y’are, lad,’ came a voice from behind. Ross sloshed a cup of mead into his hand. ‘A long, hard drink is what you’re needing.’

  Some of the men snorted and another called out, ‘It’s not the only thing that’ll be long and hard tonight!’

  Nairna’s mouth opened in shocked surprise and she quickly looked at the ground as if she were searching for an escape.

  Bram took the drink and eyed the men. ‘Go. Away.’

  Ross raised a toast and drained his mug, laughing with the others. To their credit, they left him alone with Nairna.

  Right now, his mood was balanced on a razor’s edge. He needed to escape the crowds, to gather up the pieces of his sanity. Nairna offered him food, but he only picked at it.

  ‘You’d better eat more than that, MacKinloch,’ she ordered him. ‘You need to get your strength back.’

  ‘And what will I be needing the strength for, a ghaoil?’ he asked, taking her fingertips.

  Her face coloured and she held out a bite of fish, offering it to him. When she pushed the bite of food into his mouth, her thumb brushed against his lip.

  The soft touch brought him into a deeper awareness of her. He ignored the clan members gathering and the sounds of their conversation grew muted. He looked into Nairna’s worried green eyes and kept her fingers locked in his.

  ‘Bram, are you all right?’

  No. He was tired, irritated at having to be around so many people, and his mind couldn’t stop thinking about the night he would spend with Nairna.

  The bawdy conversation was doing nothing to alleviate the sexual hunger he felt for Nairna. He remembered the silken skin and the sweetness of her kiss. Even more, the way she’d clung to him when he’d kissed her only deepened his own arousal. He wanted to be alone with his wife right now. He wanted to explore her body, to learn the mysteries of a woman’s flesh. Unless she kept her hands off him, his control was going to break apart.

  When her hand came up to stroke his cheek, all semblance of reason snapped.

  Nairna wondered what she’d done to provoke such a response. Bram took her arm, guiding her up and away from the others. He took her to the furthest corner, away from everyone else, and pulled her into his arms.

  Behind her, she heard the sounds of cheering, the men applauding her husband.

  Bram’s gaze locked with hers and he looked as though he’d rather devour her, instead of the food they’d shared earlier. ‘Ignore them.’

  His thumbs caressed her jawline and he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. Her body responded with a shiver, though she wasn’t cold at all. Bram lowered his hands down to her shoulders, past her waist, before he brought her up against the wall.

  She forgot about all the people around them, lost within the intensity of his dark eyes. His mouth moved in to take hers and she yielded to him, sensing the caged tension. He kissed her until she couldn’t catch her breath, until she no longer heard the sounds of men celebrating.

  Her heartbeat was racing so fast, her body responding to the desire he’d conjured. And though she knew he had the right to consummate their marriage, the flutter of nerves rose up in her stomach.

  ‘Bram,’ she interrupted, turning her face to the side. ‘Not here.’ Too many were watching them and she suspected he’d forgotten where they were.

  His face was unyielding, his eyes turning to frost when he released her. ‘You have five minutes to finish what you want to eat. After that, you’re mine.’

  He left her alone while he went to speak with Alex, and in the meantime Nairna sat down, trying to collect her stray thoughts.

  He was going to take her body tonight. He would become her husband in flesh, as well as in name.

  She steadied her breathing, letting her mind drift. It might be pleasant, if Bram’s kiss was any indication. And she wasn’t a maiden who would be terrified of the joining. There was nothing that should frighten her.

  But something about Bram made her pulse quicken and her body ached in secret ways. She overheard more raucous jokes about sex, and though she knew the men meant no harm, it was making her more nervous. She couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like with Bram.

  Before she could calm herself, he returned.

  ‘Alex has found a place for us. We’ll go now and rest.’

  Rest? From the hungry look in his eyes, it seemed that sleep was the last thing on his mind.

  Breathe, she reminded herself. It’s nothing more than sharing his bed. But her nerves tightened at the thought of lying naked beneath him.

  As he led her through the crowd, the men cheered. When some of them tried to follow, Bram sent them a threatening look.

  ‘If you’re needing any advice, lad—’

  ‘I don’t.’ He pointed for the men to return. ‘Go back to your ale and leave me with my bride.’

  ‘Give her a kiss from us!’ Ross offered, making puckering noises.

  Nairna wanted nothing more than to escape their teasing. Thoug
h they meant well, she needed no more reminders about what would happen tonight.

  ‘Alex said we could sleep in one of the storage shelters,’ Bram said, leading her outside. ‘There’s no bed, I’m afraid.’

  It was better than sleeping in the keep, amid the dogs, Nairna thought.

  ‘I brought a mattress,’ she reminded him. ‘We could fetch it from the wagon, along with blankets.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Pointing to one of the wattle-and-daub huts, he told her, ‘We’ll stay here tonight and then find a place of our own in the morning.’

  Before he left her, he slid a hand around her waist. ‘Nairna, I promise it will be all right. I won’t hurt you.’ He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he turned to walk back to the wagon. She held on to her waist, feeling as though his lips had burned a mark into her skin.

  She was restless about the forthcoming night. To distract herself, she entered the grain hut. Inside, it smelled musty and damp. Sacks of barley and corn lay stacked in a corner, both food stores and seed for next year.

  The structure was rectangular, perhaps eight feet wide. It looked more suited to horses, but Nairna supposed it was better than sleeping out in the open.

  Her skin turned cold, the nervous energy rising higher. Lie still, she reminded herself. Submit to him and let him do as he pleases.

  She wasn’t afraid of lovemaking, only of disappointing Bram. Whenever Iver had shared her bed, her husband’s thoughts were distant, his movements a cold duty. And when time went on, and she still hadn’t become pregnant, there had seemed little point in the act.

  But tonight could be different. She prayed that, somehow, Bram could give her the child she wanted so desperately. Her hands moved down to her stomach, the wistful longing filling her up inside.

  When Bram returned, he set down her mattress, dumping a load of blankets atop it. He stopped to look at her, his faded tunic looking pale in the moonlight.

  Dark brown eyes stared into hers, leaving no doubt of his needs. And yet there was a tangible distance, almost as if he didn’t want her to know him, or guess at his thoughts.

  His muscles strained as he lifted several sacks of grain to block out the wind from the crevices of the shelter. As he moved, Nairna realised that, although he was thinner, there was no mistaking his strength from the hard labour he’d endured.

  She studied the reddened, raised scars encircling his throat. They revealed the mark of an iron band that must have rested around his neck. Though the abrasions were starting to heal, the scar would remain.

  After he’d finished moving the sacks of grain, Bram removed his tunic, baring his shoulders. Though he was thin, his lean muscles caught her eye. The urge to touch his skin came over her, though she suppressed it.

  Nairna turned around, trying to loosen her gown. Bram came up behind her and helped to lift the woollen garment away, leaving her dressed in her shift. Her body grew cold from the chilled air and she hugged herself to keep warm. With one hand, she unravelled the bandage from her wrist, letting the strip of cloth fall to the floor.

  With Bram so close, she couldn’t help but see the massive scarring upon his body. It was monstrous to think of what they must have done to him.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, reaching to touch the whitened skin.

  ‘It’s mostly healed.’

  That wasn’t a no. She worried about whether or not he was in pain. He might not tell her, even if he was.

  Bram’s mouth rested beside her ear, his hot breath taking her thoughts apart. She could almost feel the heat of his bare skin and it both fascinated her and frightened her. She couldn’t stop her intake of breath when his kiss grazed the line of her jaw.

  ‘I’m going to sleep with you this night, Nairna. The way I should have done, these past seven years.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Are you afraid?’ he asked. He didn’t want her to be. He wanted to hold her in his arms this night, to forget the years of torture and darkness.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Not of…being with you, but—’ Her words broke off and her face flushed. ‘We don’t really know each other. It seems strange.’ Her face turned to the ground, her cheeks red with embarrassment. ‘I’ll try not to let that interfere.’

  Her honesty was like ice water upon his desire, reminding him that she’d been with someone else before him. She knew what it was to join with a man and she spoke of it as though it were something to be endured instead of enjoyed.

  It darkened his mood even more. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  The question came out before he could stop himself. He needed to know what had happened between them.

  She shook her head slowly. But there was a sadness behind her eyes, and he sensed that her husband had not brought her pleasure within their marriage bed.

  Jealousy snarled inside him. ‘What was it like…with him?’

  She sat on the mattress and drew her knees up, holding them to her chest. ‘Bram, I don’t want to talk about those years. I’d rather forget them.’

  He exhaled slowly, feeling cruel for even bringing it up. She didn’t appear to have enjoyed her previous marriage bed. Likely she was in no hurry to repeat the experience.

  It frustrated him, because he didn’t want her to lie back and endure his affections. He wanted her breathless and willing. He wanted to taste her skin, to tempt her in ways that his imagination had conjured.

  His gaze drifted over her body, resting upon the full curves of her breasts, the swell of her hips. ‘You’re as fair as I remember, a ghaoil.’ He sat beside her and she tried to venture a smile.

  She gently touched his bared chest. At the warmth of her fingers against the scarred flesh his body responded with aching lust. She rested her cheek against his heart and he touched her hair, lifting her face to his.

  He kissed her lips softly, moving down to the sensitive part of her throat. Goose flesh erupted upon her skin, and she let out a breath of air.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he murmured.

  ‘Just nervous.’

  It seemed that the more he touched her, the more uneasy she became. He tried to kiss her again, pressing her back onto the mattress. At the touch of his hands upon her legs, she shivered, suddenly turning her face away.

  He knew he’d done something to bother her, but he didn’t understand what it was. He stroked her long legs, moving higher. Nairna’s face reddened and her shoulders trembled. She was reacting strongly to his touch and her fingers curled tightly as she felt him caress her knees.

  When he reached her inner thighs, she jerked away. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’ She clamped her knees together, clutching them as she shuddered. ‘It tickles.’

  It was the last reaction he’d expected; frankly, he didn’t know what to do now. He’d broken the mood and it was clear that she wasn’t at all aroused. Like a fumbling adolescent, he’d done everything wrong.

  Frustration and anger boiled inside and he turned away so she wouldn’t see his annoyance with himself.

  ‘Bram,’ she said, her voice filled with remorse, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react that way, but my legs are sensitive.’

  He felt the shift of the mattress as she lay down beside him. Nairna reached out to his shoulder. ‘Will you let me touch you now?’ she asked.

  He rolled over, staring at her. Her deep-brown hair, like the warmth of polished walnut, fell against her linen shift. Pale milky skin held not a single freckle from the sun and he well remembered the taste of those soft lips.

  Her hands moved over his chest and she directed him to turn onto his stomach. He felt the warmth of her lips upon his neck and a tremor brushed through him. She kissed his scars, tracing over the years of pain as if she could eradicate them with her fingers.

  A slow heat built inside him; letting her explore his skin was a different form of torture. His body was heavy with need and he couldn’t endure much more of this.

  Bram rolled over and sat up, her legs straddling his waist. He took possess
ion of her mouth, as if to show her all of the desire he’d held back over the years. The taste of her was like sunlight to his shadows and he drew her closer. She was soft, warm, and he imagined lifting her hips to impale her with his shaft.

  Her tongue tangled with his, and at her unexpected response his hands started shaking. He had caressed his way down to her bottom, and between her legs his fingers encountered moisture.

  He wanted to delve inside her, to tempt her into surrendering. But it was too soon for that.

  He could feel the control slipping away and pulled back, afraid of losing awareness. His breathing was shallow, his body rigid with need.

  Uncertain eyes met his, as though Nairna didn’t know why he’d stopped. But it was too similar to the night when he’d let his mind slip into the shadows. He didn’t trust himself to join with her, not when his mind was dominated by lust.

  He might hurt her again, when that was the last thing he wanted. For a moment, he rested his hands upon her spine, hoping to regain command of himself. But his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry for earlier,’ she whispered. ‘I never meant to offend you.’

  She misunderstood the reason why he’d stopped, but he didn’t correct her. He didn’t want to reveal how close he’d come to the edge again.

  He pulled her shift down lower, ignoring his body’s needs, and locking away the desire he longed to quench.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, reaching for him.

  He could see the hurt confusion in her eyes, but there was nothing he could say to ease her embarrassment. He couldn’t control his shaking hands, or his body’s fierce response to her.

  ‘It’s late, Nairna. Go to sleep.’ He turned away from her, wishing he could master his physical reactions.

  Staring at the empty spaces between the wooden boards, he felt the warmth of her breasts pressing against his back. Her arm moved around his waist and he shoved back the instinctive need to touch her.