by Raina Wilde
“It’s about time that you joined us.” Her father stepped forward with an enormous grin on his face. “It’s time that you meet your groom.” His hand gestured behind him to where an elderly man at least three times her age stood with a goofy grin on his face. Skye’s hopes plummeted. She had been wrong to believe that these were Aiden’s furs. Wolf fur was a common gift for a wedding.
Her father turned to follow the line of his hand and his face broke into a poorly concealed look of false apology.
“My mistake,” he laughed. “Your husband is there.” Her father pointed over Skye’s shoulder into the hallway behind her, where Aiden stood with a guilty grin on his face.
Skye launched herself into his arms, eliciting cheers from the gathered crowd. As Aiden spun her in a circle she began to see the rest of his family slipping quietly into the room. When he set her down on her feet it felt as if the world still spun.
“Father, what happened?” she turned to ask the question but refused to release her grip around Aiden’s waist.
“Well, lass.” He laughed. “When The MacConaill tells you that your daughter is going to marry his son, it isn’t wise to argue, previous arrangements or no.” Aiden’s father chuckled from the other side of the room.
“I might have also agreed to increase our wool purchases this spring.” He turned and pointed at Greum and Catríona and then Aiden and Skye. “So, I need some bairns to clothe, do you hear?”
Cat nodded and gave a revealing wink to her husband. Skye squeeze Aiden even harder.
“So,” Aiden grasped Skye’s shoulders and looked into her eyes, “do you agree to marry me tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Skye faked an angry look at her father. “I have to wait until tomorrow?”
And with laughter all around, the two families gathered together to celebrate the morrow’s nuptials and a match that could not have been better suited.
THE END
Carnal Reconciliation
Deirdre MacConaill’s brothers are marrying faster than her father can keep up with, but that doesn't mean that his only daughter is ready to take the leap.
Deirdre nurses the aching wound of a long ago love that went terribly wrong several summers past. When her father informs her that she is to be married to the very man who broke her heart—and took her virginity with it—all of Deirdre’s worst fears are about to come true.
In the Scottish Highlands arranged marriages are not uncommon, but with Deirdre’s position as only daughter to the Laird of Clan MacConaill, there are few choices that suit her rank. Teirnan Laramie, Bonnet Laird and banner man to her father, is taking his position as Laird of the Laramie Estate and he needs a wife. And when the MacConaill makes a decision, you follow it.
So it comes to pass that the pair must be married, much to their joint dismay. Can Deirdre and Teirnan move forward, despite their traumatic past? Or, are they destined to fight their passion forever, never knowing the truth that tore them apart?
Carnal Reconciliation
Deirdre MacConaill cradled her sleeping nephew in her arms. His tiny hand rose to rub a rosy cheek and he released a wide-mouthed yawn.
“He’ll make a fine Laird, Cat.” She informed the woman sitting beside her. Lady Catríona had married Deirdre’s twin brother, Greum. Together, they were rapidly expanding their small family. The infant in Deirdre’s arms rolled toward his mother. His hand came to rest absentmindedly on Cat’s protruding stomach where a pair of siblings had begun to expand her body in recent months.
There was a quiet knock on the sitting room door and Deirdre’s twin entered with the telltale grin of a proud father. Before his wife could hoist herself from her seated position, Greum rushed over and joined her on the plush bench.
“How was the journey?” Cat ran her hands over her husband as if searching for hidden wounds. “Did they agree to the treaty?”
“Of course not.” Greum laughed and pulled his wife’s hands into his own, kissing her fingers lightly. “Clan McKinnon has no wish for peace while we control the best lands.” Cat sighed. “Do not worry, wife. We’ll have at least a summer of quiet while they consider a reply.”
Deirdre rubbed her nose against the face of the sleeping child, trying not to impose on the happy reunion of the young couple.
“Deir,” Greum turned to his sister with a serious expression. “Father would like to speak with you in the study. He asked that you join him immediately.”
With a sinking feeling in her stomach Deirdre deposited the bairn in her brother’s arms and hurried from the room. The Laird rarely requested formal meetings with his children. He was inclined to sharing news and discussions across the raucous long table of the dining hall, or during slow walks through the gardens. His study was reserved for serious business with his bonnet lairds or banner men.
When she arrived outside of the aforementioned room, the door stood slightly ajar. Deirdre slipped into the darkened room in silence, allowing the door to click shut behind her. Her father stood facing out the many-paned window, his hands clasped behind his back. The contemplative pose did nothing to ease the turmoil in Deirdre’s heart.
She waited for her father to turn, but he did not. With tentative steps Deirdre approached the window at the far end of the room. She came to pause shoulder to shoulder with her father, following his gaze through the window out into the bustling courtyard below. There they stood in silence until he finally spoke.
“Skye and Aiden are returning to the Laramie Estate on the morrow.” Deirdre did not understand what the journey of her younger brother and his new wife to Skye’s family home had to do with her. “The bonnet laird has been ill and we just received word that he succumbed to the sickness not two nights passed. I would like you to join them on the journey and express our sympathies at the funeral.”
“I don’t mean to be impertinent, father,” Deirdre’s brow furrowed in confusion, “but, I’m not sure that I understand why Aiden and Skye would not be sufficient to express our condolences.” While she grieved for her new sister, and the clansmen that would be affected by the loss of their landowner, Deirdre had only the most basic of aquaintances with the man who had pledged fealty to her father. His wife, that predeceased him, had been more likely to interact with the children during the long-ago summers in which the families would visit.
“Teirnan will be taking the oath to fulfill his inheritance.” Her father still had not turned to face her, an unusual occurrence for the naturally affectionate man.
Deirdre still did not understand. “Aiden can witness the pledge. Teirnan is his brother by marriage.” Never before had she been sent to witness a fealty pledge. This had always been a task for one of the Laird’s sons.
Finally, her father turned to face her. There was apprehension in his eyes that did little to ease Deirdre’s confusion.
“Teirnan is unmarried, as you know, and a bonnet laird does not do well without a wife and heir.” Deirdre’s eyes opened wide as she heard her father’s words. She could not bring herself to speak, and so he continued. “I know that you and the lad have little liking between you but, what with Skye joining us here at the castle, the Laramie lands will be needing a feminine touch once again.”
Her heart beat in her chest with aching thuds and Deirdre shook her head in open-mouthed silence.
Her father, her Laird, placed his hands upon her shoulders and drew her into his embrace. He rested his chin against her dark hair, as he had all her life, and yet this time the act did not comfort her.
“My sweet child, it is long past time that you marry. Of all the eligible men that would befit your station Teirnan is the only one that isn’t as old as your father or young as your nephew. You might not care for him now, but in time that may change.”
She felt the warm trail of the tear that slid down her cheek.
“Father, please.” The quivering words were the most that Deirdre could draw past the lump that had risen in her throat.
“I was under the impression that th
ere are many a lass who would like nothing more than to be the lad’s bride. May I ask why it is that you dislike him so?” His hand smoothed her long braid against her back.
She shook her head and leaned her forehead against his chest, using the action to hide her face from the observant man.
“I suppose that business is your own.”
She stepped away from her father and began to exit the room. There was nothing else that she could think to say and, though she could tell that her father hated to upset her it was clear that he had made up his mind.
When her hand rested on the knob she spoke one last question, directing it at the wall before her.
“Does he know?” she asked.
“His father informed him before his death.” Came the quiet response from the far side of the room.
Without another glance Deirdre exited the room. With a heavy heart she retreated to her chambers, excusing herself from supper and the night’s activities by claiming the need to pack her belongings. By the time she had unceremoniously dumped her entire life into the travelling trunks she had nothing left to occupy the night but to lay in bed until her tears gave way to sleep.
___
Deirdre barely said two words during the journey. Upon arrival at the estate she allowed Teirnan to hand her down from the carriage and then resolutely avoided him for the duration of the funeral activities. This was no mean task because her best source of distraction was to actively comfort Skye on the loss of her father. Unfortunately, the close-knit siblings were rarely found out of each other’s company.
Teirnan seemed to have taken immediate note of Deirdre’s intentions because he obliged by refraining from any direct conversations or interactions with his future bride. They were seated beside each other, as was expected of the betrothed pair, but busied themselves with their surrounding company. Thankfully, this behavior was easily excusable as respect for the funeral rites and mournful atmosphere. Even Aiden and Skye refrained from open displays of affection other than the occasional hand of support between husband and wife.
Her brother tried, only once, to address his sympathy for her predicament, knowing full well of the icy tension that had existed between his closest friend and sister for many years now. Aiden also had the unique perspective of knowing that his own wife had very nearly been forced into an arranged marriage of her own. Deirdre’s response had been short and specific. She did not now, nor would she ever, care to discuss her relationship with the man to whom she would be bound for the rest of her life.
Despite disliking the man so completely, Deirdre could not deny that she was pleased that Teirnan had been respectful enough not to share their history with her brother, even after nearly seven years. It was prosaic that the man to whom she had given her maidenhood, was now to be the husband who should have received it on their wedding night. She shoved the thought from her mind. Her past with Teirnan was a memory that she absolutely refused to revisit or repeat.
A week later, she stood beside Teirnan as he made his pledge of fealty to the Clan MacConaill. He repeated the words, to be witnessed by her brother, before joining Deirdre in the recital of their vows.
She felt numb through the entire ceremony. Even after the feast and celebrations Deirdre could barely remember the words she had said. She had tried to appear happy but knew that the observant eye could see that she had withdrawn into herself and merely playacted the role of happy bride.
When the chorus of cheers rose to a deafening pitch, she allowed herself to be ushered out of the hall, swept into the arms of her husband, and carried off into the chambers of the Laird for the consummation of their vows.
She was tired. More than just exhausted, weary. With a sigh she allowed Teirnan to carry her over the threshold. For the first time that night she allowed the plastered smile to slip from her face. As he closed the door behind them she could still hear the pounding and catcalls from the floor below.
Teirnan placed her feet gently on the floor and moved to stoke the roaring fire. The act was little more than a distraction as the servants had already ensured that their every need had been met.
“May I help you with the laces on your gown?” Teirnan’s voice was deep and soft.
Deirdre blinked. Realizing that at some point he had abandoned the fire and come to stand behind her. She swept her braid over her shoulder and bowed her head, allowing him access to the laces that spanned the entire length of her spine.
As his hands began to work with expert precision against the rope a series of images began to flash across Deirdre’s mind. Teirnan, completing the same action with shaking hands on the summer that Deirdre had traveled to the estate without her brothers. Waiting for Skye to disappear for her daily hunting excursion and slipping away to meet her devastatingly handsome brother in secret, in a small cave known only to the pair. Feigning disinterest in her lover whenever there were watchful eyes, yet being filled with a glowing anticipation for their next encounter. Stolen moments and quiet whispers professing their love for one another, before everything went wrong. That summer Deirdre had dreamt of nothing more than her own wedding night with the man she now called husband. Tonight, she could not think of any place that she would not rather be.
The final lace slipped from the dress and Deirdre allowed it to pool at her feet, leaving her only in the plain white shift that lay beneath. She stepped forward and heard Teirnan pick up the gown from the floor and place it on a chair in the corner.
“Your hair?” he asked.
She sank down into the bench in front of the dressing table. She kept her eyes lowered to her own brushes and combs that had been set out, refusing to glance into the mirror to see the man behind her.
With gentle fingers he removed the white flowers that adorned her raven hair and set them on the table. He located the pins by combing his fingers through the locks until her hair fell in waves down her back.
She felt, more than heard him step away and begin readying himself for the night. Without bothering to brush her hair, she wove it into a simple braid and slipped between the layers of the bed. Teirnan had always preferred her hair loose down her back. The braid, easily excusable as convenient maintenance, was a small rebellion on her part.
She shifted between the linens until she reached the far side of the bed and rolled to face the wall. With slow and steady breaths she mentally prepared herself for what was to come, knowing full well that the guests below would expect nothing less than immediate consummation.
The room darkened significantly as Teirnan blew out the tapers that filled the room. Lit only by the fire on the far side of the room, she felt the mattress shift as he joined her beneath the covers.
Deirdre waited anxiously for Teirnan to initiate physical contact. She stared at the wall beside her and prayed that she could disappear into it rather than face the man in her bed. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours as she agonized over the idea of Teirnan seeing or touching her naked body. The thought was laughable because he was the only man who already had an intimate knowledge of her person.
It was not until the last glow of ember flickered into blackness that Deirdre realized that the steady cadence that she had been unconsciously timing her own breath along with, was the deep rhythm of Teirnan as he slept.
The following morning Deirdre awoke in a cocoon of warmth with a gentle summer breeze floating through the window, ruffling her hair. She sighed burrowed closer to the warmth thinking that if she kept her eyes closed long enough she might be able to slip back into her pleasant dreams.
She shifted her legs and her knee grazed against something hard. With a jolt her eyes opened and she realized that her face was pressed against the hard muscle of a masculine chest. There she lay for a long moment, wrapped in warmth and the fresh, but earthy, scent that was unique to the bear-men, her cheek resting on his shoulder and his arms completely encircling her body. There was no breeze at the window, only his breath as it brushed against the hairs at the top of her head. Memori
es rushed into her brain causing her to leap away from Teirnan’s sleeping body. The sudden movement woke him with a start and his head made a resounding thud against the headboard.
Deirdre clapped a hand over her mouth and she scooted with wide eyes back to her own side of the mattress.
She watched in silence as Teirnan cursed and rolled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his head as he stumbled toward the water basin. Deirdre noted that he was wearing only the thin white covering of his longshirt. For an instant, before she forced the thought from her mind, she felt the distinct longing to know if everything that lay beneath it was just as she remembered. He splashed the cold liquid over his face before turning to encounter Deirdre’s guilty expression.
If she had expected a look of anger or frustration, she had been wrong. Instead, Teirnan turned to her with resignation and, if she was reading his face correctly, disappointment. For a moment, he looked as if he were considering something but then he shook his head and grabbed his kilt from where it hung on the wall to begin dressing.
Deirdre rarely found herself at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. Her head warred with her heart in a way that she thought she had learned to control many years ago. Despite her opinion of the man she could not deny that a small part of her had been pleased to, once more, find herself wrapped in his embrace.
With firm resolution to suppress that feminine longing, Deirdre slipped from the bed and began her own tedious morning rituals. After she donned a pale blue gown, and had pinned her hair into a loose knot at the base of her neck, Deirdre moved to stand next to her husband, where he waited by the door. Offering his arm, she hesitated before placing her hand against his sleeve. Together, they made their way down to the great hall where they were greeted by an outpouring of cheers and well wishes. Deirdre scanned the crowd for her brother and his wife before she remembered that Aiden and Skye had departed in the early morning hours. It occurred to her, as she counted the few recognizable faces, that she was effectively a stranger in her own home.
