He said nothing, but she thought he was holding his breath.
“Duncan, I love you more than I can say, more than my heart can hold. I cannot imagine a day without you by my side . . . and in my bed.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, teasing him even in this serious moment, but also telling the truth. She sobered. “If you feel even half of what I do, please say that you will be my Protector, my husband.”
Now it was she who held her breath, but the grin that spread over his beloved face took away any doubt that he would not want her.
“You will be the death of me, my warrior lass. I love you with all my heart. I would be proud to be your Protector, and prouder still to call you wife.” He pulled her close and kissed her, softly at first, and then more deeply, infusing the press of his lips, the slide of his tongue against hers, with so much longing, so much passion, a searing heat flashed through her, pooling low in her belly as a desire unlike any she had felt before nearly overwhelmed her.
“There is one condition, though,” he said against her lips, as if he’d only just thought of it. He pulled away from her just far enough to look her in the eye, leaving her breathless and unsettled. His grin was gone, replaced by a familiar serious expression.
“What?”
“I dinna want to wait. Not a single day. I have waited a long time for you, Scotia.” He ran his fingers over her cheek, then slid his hand down her neck and over her chest, letting his fingers lightly skim over her breast. Her breath hitched at his feathery touch. “I am done waiting.” The rasp in his voice, as if he fought to hold himself in check even now when he knew she was his, opened her heart so wide it ached.
She laid her palm against his cheek and lightly kissed his lips, only now noting the scrape of his whiskers against her skin. “I am done waiting, as well, Duncan, and I would say our vows right here and now, but we need the entire clan to celebrate with us.” She quirked one eyebrow at him. “I’ll not have you backing out three days hence, saying vows were not said.”
He smiled and sighed. “You are right. We need to do this before everyone. You are a Guardian, and if I am to be your Protector, we must be wed in front of the entire clan. So today, at the caves, before the sun sets again.” He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up and into his arms for another searing kiss that had them both holding so fast to the other there was no room between them.
“Ahem.”
Scotia heard the sound but did not think anything of it as she lost herself in the feel of his hard chest pressed against her breasts, the softness of Duncan’s lips, the slip of his tongue over hers, and the heat of his desire that was oh so evident.
“Ye might want to stop what you are about to do with Kenneth’s daughter, seeing as he is standing right here.”
The kiss continued until the words finally filtered through. She stopped the kiss, and they looked at each other for a moment. Laughter danced in his eyes and threatened to bubble out of her, carried into the air on sheer joy.
“Duncan, ye might want to take a step away from the lassie,” Uilliam said.
“Oh, nay,” Scotia whispered against his lips. “You do not want to do that.” She glanced down between them and laughed when Duncan’s face turned pink. She kissed him quickly and spun in his arms, keeping him behind her. She laid her hands over his where they rested around her waist and faced her father and Uilliam with a smile she had no intention of hiding. The two men were scowling at the two of them, but ranged a little behind them were a grinning Nicholas and Rowan on one side, and a grinning Jeanette and Malcolm on the other.
“I think we are caught, Scotia,” Duncan said, pulling her back so she leaned against him. “I’m afraid the only thing we can do to make this right is wed.”
Kenneth started to speak but could only bluster and cough, his face going red. Uilliam pounded him on the back, shaking his head and laughing at his friend.
“I ken she is your wayward lassie, Kenneth, but she has always been his. It just took far longer than it should have for the two of them to realize their fate. A wedding is the only way to make sure she remains his trouble for as long as they live.”
“Uncle,” Rowan said, “Scotia is a Guardian and every Guardian must have a Protector.” She leaned into Nicholas’s side, their arms looped around each other’s waist, and lay her head on his shoulder. She looked peaceful and relaxed as she had not in a very long time. “Can you think of a better, more experienced Protector for our Scotia? Indeed, I would say he has been training for the position Scotia’s whole life.”
Jeanette laughed. “Aye, that he has, but do you think Scotia will have him?”
Now it was Scotia’s face that heated with the teasing.
“Aye, I will have him,” she said, “and I shall wed with him this very day.”
“This day?” Rowan asked.
“We will not wait any longer,” Duncan said, smiling down at Scotia. “We cannot wait any longer.”
Jeanette and Rowan grinned at each other.
“It seems we are to have another wedding, cousin,” Rowan said.
“Aye, but if we are to have a wedding today,” Jeanette replied, “we must return to the caves immediately. This may be quickly done, but ’twill be done well. Peigi will need a little time to prepare a wedding meal. Scotia, you cannot get wed in trews with a sword hanging from your belt. You can wear the gown I wore to wed with Malcolm, and this time I shall do your hair.” She looked at her husband of just a few weeks. “I suppose we can give them our wee cave for the night.” The wicked smile on her face told Scotia that Jeanette and Malcolm would retire to their favorite trysting place, the grotto where she had been chosen as Guardian.
“I suppose we can,” Malcolm said with a grin that made him glow, turning him into the golden warrior Jeanette often called him.
Rowan closed the distance to Scotia and Duncan and gave her cousin a fierce hug. “You will continue to keep her out of trouble,” she said to Duncan over Scotia’s shoulder.
“I will,” he said, “though I think the worst of her troublemaking is behind her.”
Jeanette gave her a hug, too, but couldn’t seem to say anything. She kissed them both on the cheek, then managed to say, “Take good care of each other.”
“Nicholas, do you think there is any wine or whiskey in the English supplies?” Rowan asked.
“I know Sherwood had a bottle of wine last night. There is likely more.”
“Good, we will take as much as we can with us so we can properly toast these two,” she said. “I think we have all earned a celebration, and what better way to celebrate defeating the English than with the joining together of Scotia and Duncan!”
The three couples quickly gathered up the few things they had with them and headed for the caves, Nicholas and Malcolm leaving a trail of instructions behind them while Rowan and Jeanette invited everyone they passed to the wedding. Scotia and Duncan walked behind the others, arm in arm, unwilling to stop touching each other for even a moment.
Kenneth still stood mute behind them while Uilliam’s deep laughter echoed off the castle wall.
IT TOOK ALL of Duncan’s considerable patience to allow the women to postpone the ceremony long enough for everyone to arrive back at the caves from the castle, but when Scotia stepped out of the main cave and into the soft late-afternoon light he realized he had waited years for this woman, and the wait had been worth it.
Her raven hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face simply, with a few yellow summer blooms tucked into it. Her pale green eyes were huge, as if she were unsure that he would still be waiting for her, but when their eyes met, all doubt fled and she glowed with happiness.
“Please tell me everyone is gathered,” she said as she joined him. Taking his hand in hers, she leaned close. “I dinna ken how long I can wait before we are alone!”
He kissed her, gently, chastely, for he shared her impatience and dared not fan the flames of the passion that threatened to ignite between them, burning away all sense and prop
riety. “I dinna ken, either.” He put a little more distance between them, but did not let her hand free of his. “But I promised myself a long time ago that I would not . . . not until . . .” He groaned and she laughed.
“It is not easy being a man of great conscience.” She shook her head at him then looked around. “Jeanette, please God, tell me we are ready for the ceremony!”
“Come, sister, Duncan.” She waved them over to a spot near the council circle where the trees would be a green background to their vows. They had no priest to bless them, so Nicholas and Rowan stood next to Malcolm and Jeanette in front of the couple, and the rest of the clan crowded around them, nearly filling the clearing.
“Duncan of Dunlairig, will you promise always to Protect this Guardian?” Rowan asked, her voice loud enough so all could hear.
“I do promise,” he answered, giving Scotia’s hand a squeeze. “I will put her life before mine, always.”
“Will you take her to wife, keeping her safe, loving her well, all the rest of your days?” Jeanette asked.
Duncan turned to face Scotia, taking both of her hands in his and pulling her close enough so her spicy scent wrapped around him. “I promise all of that.” He drew her hands to his mouth, placing one kiss on each. He thought he heard her groan as his lips pressed against her skin, and he could not help but grin. “I promise all of that,” he repeated, just loud enough for Scotia to hear, “and so much more.”
“Scotia MacAlpin, daughter of Kenneth and Elspet, Guardian of the Targe,” Nicholas began, but Scotia did not let him get any further.
“I take this man, Duncan of Dunlairig, as my Protector, and as my husband. I promise to keep him safe and love him very, very well, all the rest of my days!”
There was a quiet whisper through the gathering as she promised to keep him safe, but Duncan’s grin grew wider.
“She is a warrior-Guardian,” he said loudly so all could hear him, but he never took his eyes off his bride, who grinned back at him, the light of her teasing adding heat to the desire that burned in her gaze. “I would have her no other way.”
Laughter rippled through the clan, then shouts of “Kiss!” began to build.
“I am not one to do as people tell me to,” Scotia said, stepping into his arms, “but just this once I think I will.” She raised up onto her toes and sealed their vows with a kiss full of promises and passion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“DO YOU NOT think we can slip away now?” Scotia sat so close to Duncan she did not even have to whisper in his ear. “I fear I will snap at someone soon if we do not!”
Duncan caught her lips with his, stoking the need within her, fanning it to a blaze. She swallowed the moan that tried to escape even as whoops and whistles wrapped around them from the gathering of their clan. Duncan grinned at her, his familiar brown eyes alight with a joy she’d never seen before. She grinned back and raised her eyebrows.
“I will snap,” she promised.
“We cannot have that,” he replied. “A bride should never snap at those celebrating her happiness.” The grin faded. “You are happy, are you not?”
“Aye, Duncan.” She cupped his cheek in her palm to the accompaniment of several happy female sighs from those sitting near them. “I am happier than I ever hoped to be. I still cannot believe that you love me after everything I have—”
He kissed her again, this time with care, as if it were another vow he made to her. “I have always loved you.”
“I think I should like you to prove your love.” She tried to keep the teasing out of her voice but was not successful.
“And I know I should like you to prove yours,” he said, taking her hand that still rested against his face and placing a soft kiss in her palm.
“So we are agreed? ’Tis time to slip away from the celebration?”
“There will be no slipping away, you two,” Peigi said.
They looked up to find the old woman standing behind them, her gnarled hands on her hips.
“’Tis not right to deprive the clan of their fun,” she said, a rosy hue in her cheeks and a twinkle in her eyes.
Scotia rolled her eyes at the old woman and was rewarded with her wheezy cackle. Duncan drew Scotia up from their seat of honor on one of the logs by the cookfire, and everyone else went silent, all eyes on the two of them. Scotia was suddenly struck dumb by the genuine happiness she saw on every face directed at the two of them . . . not just at Duncan . . . and for the first time in a very long time she felt a beloved part of the clan.
“My bride is tired,” Duncan said. Snorts and ribald retorts rattled through the crowd. “We shall take our leave—”
Kenneth stood, storm clouds in his eyes.
“Da,” Scotia said, “I am wed now, and Duncan has always taken care of me.”
“We will not leave the glen,” Duncan said, “but we may not return here for a few days.”
“Only a few days?” she teased, rousing the crowd to even louder retorts.
“Get ye away, lad!” Uilliam’s voice rose over the others. “I dinna ken how much more of this Kenneth can take!” And then the jokes and whoops shifted to her da.
“’Tis time,” she said to her husband, pulling him out of the clearing and into the forest.
SCOTIA LET DUNCAN lead her quickly away from the gathering to a small cave far enough away to give them privacy. Without words he drew her into his arms and kissed her, slowly, gently, as if he thought she might break. But that was not what she wanted. She tilted her head, threaded her fingers into his soft hair, and took control, her kiss turning greedy and demanding. He hesitated only a moment, then met her kiss for kiss, his hands roaming everywhere, pulling her tight against him. She fumbled with the broach that held his plaid at his shoulder, then went for his belt, dropping it and the plaid to the ground.
“’Tis not fair that you wear more than I,” he whispered against her throat where he kissed and nipped and nuzzled. Her laces were undone before he stopped speaking. He pushed her gown down her arms to puddle at her feet, leaving her only in her kirtle, while he still wore his tunic. She stepped back, missing the heat of him, but wanting, needing to see her husband. She pulled the string at her neckline and let the kirtle slide off.
The look of hunger in Duncan’s eyes made her smile. When he pulled his tunic over his head, her breath caught. Dark hair spread over his chest, narrowing down his stomach until . . .
He reached for her hand and pulled her a little deeper into the cave and down onto a pallet that she had not noticed. They were both breathing hard, and she found herself suddenly focused completely on the intensity of Duncan’s stare, as if he could see nothing but her. He pressed her back and settled himself over her. The feel of his chest grazing her breasts with every gasping breath they took nearly overwhelmed her senses, leaving her exquisitely aware of every touch, every breath that feathered over her face, and the look of desire, and more, that filled his eyes. All at once Duncan groaned, though she had done nothing to hurt him, and covered her mouth with his greedy, urgent kiss.
Everything disappeared in Scotia’s mind as her attention was overwhelmed by the feel of his lips against hers, the way his tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with her own, the way his fingers twined with hers, grasping her hands as if he could not bear to let them go, and the way his desire pressed against her belly, telling her more about his need of her than any words might.
And her own need answered his.
Rational thought fled, and sensation was all she knew. He rolled, settling her next to him, as he ran his hand down her arm, over her hip and waist, and up to cup her aching breast, all the while feasting on her lips. She reached down, running her own hand over his thigh, reaching around to cup his buttock, urging him closer to her, closer to her core, to her need. She moved her hand between them and trailed her fingers lightly up his length before she took him in her grip and began tormenting him with excruciatingly slow strokes. She hooked a leg over his hip, pressing him even clos
er with it. Need burned through her until she could think of nothing but Duncan, and the need to join completely with him.
And then he slid his hand between them, until he found the wetness between her legs and pressed a finger into her depths, drawing a groan of pleasure from both of them.
DUNCAN FOUGHT THE need screaming through him to complete the joining immediately. Instead he slowed his breath and slowly pulled his finger out of her slick folds, then even more slowly pressed it back inside her, again and again, achingly slow, until she was begging him with the undulations of her hips and the quick gasps of her breath to hurry his movements, to hurry her pleasure. But he did not. He reveled in the power he had to make her lose herself to the sensations he was creating within her body.
“You must cease tormenting me, Duncan.” Desire made her voice smoky and low, thickly caressing him with the promise of pleasure, with the promise of . . .
“Now, Duncan. Come to me now.”
He settled between her thighs, and then he stilled. “I love you, Scotia,” he said, waiting for her to meet his gaze so she could see the depth and the truth of his words.
She cupped his cheek in her hand, as she had earlier. “And I love you, Duncan.”
He held her gaze as he slowly buried himself within her. As he began to move within her she arched to meet him, urging him on with her hips, her hands, the sounds of pleasure that escaped her full lips.
The joining was not gentle, but then she did not seem to want it that way. She met him thrust for thrust, keening her pleasure, pulling him hard against her, into her, harder, faster, until they both leapt, their voices joining in the moment as their bodies pulsed against each other, complete and one at long last.
EPILOGUE
Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) Page 25
