by Terry Spear
He'd envisioned making love to her, but imagining and actually experiencing were two different beasties. He couldn't conceive of anything greater than smelling her sweet lavender scent and all woman, the way she molded to his body as if they were meant to be together, the softness of her skin, and her touch. Even the way her darkened green eyes took him in, unabashedly, intrigued made him more desirous of claiming her for his own.
He thrust into her, eager to see her carrying his bairn, and knowing she was his, that she was part of the clan, now and forever, and no one would take that away.
He held on, wanting to treasure this first joining as long as he could, but for their first few times, he wanted her to enjoy every bit of the experience, and allowed himself to let go, to take delight in the release, to cherish holding her close the night through, and every night after that.
"Let me wash you." He hoped she was not too uncomfortable.
She touched his cheek and smiled up at him. "I love you."
"Aye, lass, and I you," he said, feeling it with all his heart. "My people, our people, will be celebrating our union for days."
"'Tis good they have accepted me."
"More than accepted. My sister thinks of you as her sister. Though that may be rather awkward when I am your husband."
Sorcha laughed and her lovely voice was like a summer's day, warm and welcome.
They left the bed and he washed her, careful to set the cloth aside for later, and then using another cloth he cleaned himself. Before they returned to bed, he noticed blood on the sheet. "Let me wash that out and…"
"Nay." She jerked the sheet off the bed and tossed it on the floor. "Proof we have consummated the marriage."
He smiled at her, thinking to use the cloth he'd wiped her down with and so carefully set aside. The whole sheet?
Naked and beautiful, she returned to bed, the blanket resting between the mattress and her body as she waited for him to join her.
"You dinna expect me to take the whole sheet down to show to the Daziel clan, do you?" He smiled when he said it, assuming she didn't, but would have the proof just in case.
"If you willna, I will."
He laughed and joined her in the bed, jerking the curtains closed, then settled down and took her into his arms.
"Have we done the right thing?" she asked softly, her warm breath fanning his bare chest. "What if Laird MacNeill isna happy with us marrying? What if your clan is drawn into a fight and…"
"Shhh, sleep. There will be time enough to deal with other matters. For now, I wish to hold you close and thank God I found you before the MacNeill clansmen did."
She sighed, then settling more comfortably against him, she grew quiet. For a long time, he stroked her silky hair, loving how it draped across his chest as if she claimed him, too.
A loud knocking on the chamber door, startled both of them. He hurried to leave the bed and shut the curtains. Grabbing his sword, he headed for the door.
Chapter 8
"'Tis me," Ward said, his voice dark with concern as Sorcha slipped out of Ronan's bed and was about to dress if trouble was brewing below stairs with the Montgomery party.
"The lass is missing, Ronan. I came to tell you first, before we sent out search parties. The portcullis is down, the gates locked. Her horse is in the stable, and we have checked with Elspeth, but she hasna seen the lass since Sorcha trained—"
Bare naked, Ronan opened the door. "No need to search for my wife. We are abed and wish no further disturbance unless the Montgomery clansmen decide to make trouble of one kind or another."
Sorcha climbed back into bed and pulled the blankets around her, wondering just how Ward was reacting to the news. He was so deathly quiet, she feared he thought it was all a dangerous mistake and the clan would suffer for it.
Then very quietly Ward said, "Is she asleep? I apologize for disturbing you both. Can we share the news?"
"He can take the sheet with him when he goes," Sorcha called out, settling down to sleep, hoping Ronan would close the door and come back to bed and hold her close the night through.
"We will see you in the morn to break our fast and I will wed the lass."
"And the Montgomery chief?"
"Devil take him. After how he treated her, I will deal with Laird MacNeill in my own good time. If Laird Montgomery chooses to send word that Sorcha is here, so be it."
"Congratulations are at hand, Brother. I bow to your expert handling of the situation."
"Dinna start celebrating tonight," Ronan warned. "We wish to sleep."
Ward only laughed and then Ronan shut the door. When he had set his sword down and climbed back in bed, then pulled Sorcha into his arms again, she said, "I couldna see his expression."
"Dressed like this." Ronan ran his hand over her naked back. "I should hope not."
"Was he upset?"
"Only that he disturbed us. If the grin stretching across his face was any indication, he was well pleased. Knowing him, he is off to tell Alban at once. And Elspeth who would be worried about what has happened to you."
"And everyone else who was ready to search for me."
"Aye. The word will most likely spread. I willna need to bring the bloody sheet to the great hall in the morn."
He didn't need to. She would, to ensure that Laird Montgomery, his son, and his daughter knew good and well she was not giving up her husband.
She was sound asleep when a knocking on the door woke her, and she realized that Ronan had snuffed the candles and was sleeping just as soundly.
He stirred beneath her, muttering about battles and killing whosoever was at the door.
"Do you want me to see to the matter?" she asked, still snuggling against his chest, not wanting to let him go.
He kissed the top of her head. "Nay. I dinna want you to go anywhere. Certainly not to fight my battles."
"Hand me my sgian dubh then, and I will watch your back."
He chuckled. Then he left the bed and lit a candle. "Aye, who is it and what do you want at this ungodly hour?"
"Ward told Elspeth and me the news. She was much relieved and we are all glad for the tidings. We meant to keep the news to ourselves, but a couple of men overheard us, and you know how it is. The next thing we knew, the word reached one of Laird Montgomery's men and—"
"Wait. Let me get dressed and we will talk."
"My sgian dubh," Sorcha reminded him.
He let out his breath, seized her sheathed dagger and gave it to her. Then he leaned down to kiss her. "Bolt the door after me, lass, will you?"
"Aye."
When he was dressed, he reminded her, "I need you to bolt the door. And remember to put out the candle."
"Oh, aye." She was so tired, she could sleep a fortnight. She pulled on her chemise and went to the door.
Ronan promptly pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "I will return shortly."
"And you will expect me to wake and open the door?"
He laughed. "Aye. How would it look if the laird of the clan couldna return to his bed in the middle of the night?"
"Like he had a new wife and kept disturbing her sleep."
He chuckled, then left the room, and she bolted the door. She put out the candle next to the bed, and climbed onto the mattress, and closed her eyes. And thought only of the trouble that could be going on down below. No way could she sleep.
She got back out of bed and dressed. Then with her sgian dubh secure beneath her clothes, she grabbed the candle and unbolted the door.
***
"What is the problem, Alban?" Ronan asked as he joined Ward in the great hall though he suspected that Laird Montgomery was raising the sidhe's ire over Ronan agreeing to marry Sorcha. But Ronan had already told the laird he would not wed his daughter, and he wasn't giving Sorcha up to marry the laird's son.
"Laird Montgomery is angered you wouldna wait until he left here on the morrow," Alban said.
"Once it was decided, there was no reason to delay."
"Aye, Ronan. I would have done as you have." Alban raised a brow. "'Tis done then?"
"Aye. We will wed on the morrow. But 'tis done."
Ward said, "He is coming. With respect for his position and for the reason he had come here, we hadna disarmed him or his son. Watch yourself."
"Aye." Though Ronan and his brothers were armed, they didna want to fight the man. Ronan turned to see a red-faced Laird Montgomery, his son, and two of his clansmen stalk toward them.
"You dare flaunt dallying with your mistress when we are still here?" Montgomery growled. "You dinna have the decency to wait until we leave here on the morrow?"
"She wasna ever my mistress, Laird Montgomery. And she is now my wife, by our laws, so I ask you to refrain from referring to her as anything but Lady Sorcha from now on."
"She was to be mine," the surly Abboid said, drawing his sword. He was tall, not as well muscled as the men, but wielding a sword, he could still critically wound someone if the threatened party didn't react quickly enough.
Not intending to injure the lad, Ronan drew his sword and blocked Abboid's thrust. Despite not being full-grown, the lad was skilled with the sword.
"Nay!" his father shouted, trying to intervene on his son's behalf. "Drop your weapon, Abboid! At once!"
But the hotheaded, young man ignored his father and took another stab at Ronan, who struck the lad's sword again, harder this time.
His father grabbed his son's left arm while one of the laird's men grabbed for his sword arm. Taking hold, the burly man forced Abboid to drop his sword.
"He stole my bride. You said yourself I could have her. You said!"
Ronan wanted to laugh if the situation hadn't been so serious.
And then a scream on another floor made everyone turn in that direction. "Alban, with me," Ronan said, and ran for the stairs, knowing Ward wouldn't like being left behind, but he had to watch over Laird Montgomery and the situation there.
***
Sorcha had heard the fighting downstairs and immediately had headed in that direction when Ita came around the narrow curved stairway, armed with a sgian dubh!
Had the woman gone mad?
She only heard two men fighting below stairs, thought it was not good in any event, but at least Montgomery's men were not battling it out with Daziel's.
"Ita—"
"Dinna say anything, you whore!" Ita screamed at her. "You stole him from me, you…you…nobody."
"Dinna do this." Sorcha quickly reached under her gown and grabbed her dagger. She didn't want to fight the woman. Her training for the other ladies was to give them a chance to defend themselves if need be. But she didn't want to fight the woman.
"You think you can best me—at this?" the woman said, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Nay. You will have other opportunities to wed a man. You dinna need to risk your safety this way." Sorcha understood how the woman could be crazed with wanting to right a perceived wrong. But no good would come of it. "Put your weapon away. If I died, what good would that do you? Ronan loves me and he wouldna marry you if you thought to murder me."
Sorcha believed the woman only sought revenge.
"No one will know it was me," Ita growled.
"You would have my death pinned on one of your kinsmen?" She couldn't believe the woman would do such a despicable thing. At least Ita hadn't advanced on her. Sorcha still had hope that she could talk her out of this. "You are bonny, Ita. And a chief's daughter. You—"
"Did you think you could get away with it and no' pay?" Ita ran at Sorcha, her dagger readied.
Sorcha wished she had a shield to deflect the blow. Instead, she twisted her sgian dubh around Ita's, forcing her dagger down. If she'd wanted to hurt the woman, she would have followed through by cutting her to disable her.
Instead, she didn't, which would have prevented Ita's next move. Ita tried to slice her in the side and again Sorcha countered the move and knocked Ita's dagger away. Only this time, she lunged forward, grabbing Ita's wrist, preventing her from cutting at her, slipped her foot behind Ita's leg and with her free hand, shoved her.
Ita screamed as she fell back against the stone floor and landed solidly on her arse.
She looked so stunned, Sorcha wanted to laugh, but the woman still had her dagger in hand. She tried to scramble to her feet but her shoes caught on her long leine.
Footfalls tromped up the winding stairs and Ronan bolted into the corridor first, his sword readied. Alban was right behind him.
Immediately, Ita dropped her dagger and cried out, "She tried to kill me!"
Why the witch!
"If I had wanted to, you would have been dead," Sorcha said. "Believe me."
Alban kicked Ita's dagger away from her and helped her to stand. She leaned against him as if Sorcha had injured her, or she was all of a sudden faint! Sorcha was ready to give her a reason to feel so faint.
Ronan put his arm around Sorcha and held her lightly against his body, and she realized just how tense she was. But she couldn't relax. Not until the Montgomery clan members and their chief were gone.
"Why dinna you take her downstairs and—" Ronan didn't get to finish what he was going to say when Sorcha interrupted.
"I will go with you. I wouldna want Ita to be spouting lies to the rest of you, or her da."
"'Tis as I said," Ita said, sniffling.
Sorcha scowled even further. Not only could the woman flutter her lashes at the men to catch their attention, but she even cried prettily.
Sorcha finally sheathed her sgian dubh underneath her gown as Alban got an eyeful of her bare leg. But what was she to do? She couldn't walk down the stairs to the great hall carrying her weapon.
"Go ahead of us," Ronan said to his brother.
Sorcha ground her teeth as she watched Alban help the "injured" woman to the stairs. When they had disappeared down them, Sorcha turned on Ronan. "You dinna believe her, do you?"
He smiled down at Sorcha and pulled her into his embrace. "I watched you practicing with the ladies, remember? You know how to use the dagger. I suspect if one of my men fought you, that you might even come out ahead."
"She knew how to use it better than I thought she would," Sorcha admitted, relaxing a little.
Ronan lifted her chin and studied her face. She was still scowling. She couldn't help it. The woman had tried to kill her and then said Sorcha was the one who attempted to murder her instead?
Then Ronan smiled. "Lass, I would never have believed the woman. As to her condition? As feigned as the way she attempted to solicit my favor? You are genuine." He slid his hands to her shoulders and squeezed. "You are all I have wanted since the moment I had laid eyes on you." He sighed. "Come then. If you wish it, we will go together and you can speak your mind."
When they reached the great hall, the great imposter was explaining how she had come to congratulate Sorcha and Sorcha, thinking she was trying to steal Ronan from her, pulled out her sgian dubh and threatened to kill her.
Everyone looked at Sorcha as if she had to tell her version. At this point, she didn't even want to have to. Then again, she wasn't about to let the witch have the last word.
She folded her arms and looked squarely at Ita, who straightened, not to be cowed, though she had been putting on the pretense that she was still so shaken from the incident. "If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead," Sorcha said.
Her father's face reddened as he looked at his daughter.
Ita's expression had turned to anger at hearing Sorcha's words, but she quickly recovered and pretended to be the injured party. "She lies, da." She looked up at her father with such an innocent expression, Sorcha just shook her head.
"Under the circumstances, we will be leaving now," Laird Montgomery said, giving his daughter a scathing look and then his son.
Sorcha wondered then if Abboid had been the one fighting below stairs when she heard the engagement.
"We will see you out," Ronan said, hesitating to learn if Sorcha wanted to go w
ith him.
Which she did and she was grateful that he would ask it of her.
After they saw Laird Montgomery and his kin off, the portcullis and gates were closed. Ronan and Sorcha said their good nights again to his kin, then they retired to bed.
"You were supposed to be in our chamber with the door bolted. How did the lass attack you if you were locked safely away?" Ronan asked her as he bolted the door.
"You dinna really expect me to answer that question, do you?" She began removing his belt.
"Nay. I am just thankful you were no' injured."
"And you? I heard fighting and—"
He hurried to divest her of her leine.
"Dinna attempt to distract me."
"Abboid fought me, claiming his da had promised you to him."
She sighed and helped him off with his tunic. "I am glad you didna injure him."
"And you, the lass."
"She didna take you in with her fluttering eyelashes, did she?"
He pulled off Sorcha's chemise, glanced down at the sgian dubh at her thigh, then leaned over and removed it. He swept her up in his arms and took her to bed. But this time, they only slept in the most delightful way, his arms around her, her body nestled against his and she loved it.
But she knew Montgomery would not leave things the way they were. He would send word to Laird MacNeill as to where she was and most likely, what she had done. How that would play out was something she couldn't stop worrying about.
Chapter 9
Six Weeks Later
Every day, Sorcha worried that Laird MacNeill would send someone to cause trouble with Ronan, and every day she knew her husband was concerned about the same thing.
They had just sat down to the nooning meal, and Ronan was looking worried at her, but she just smiled and patted his leg. "'Tis all right, Ronan. Everyone who has been through what I am going through had the same thing as me. Dinna worry."
But when they saw Fagen hurrying from where he'd had guard duty, everyone turned to see what the matter was.
