Highland Yule: A MacLomain and MacLauchlin Hogmanay Tale

by Sky Purington

  “’Tis hard to imagine finally...” She broke off, almost afraid if she voiced it, she would awaken from a dream.

  “But imagine ye must, lass,” Brighid insisted. “Ye must let go of the past, set aside yer fear and embrace love once more. Life is fleeting, Rona.” Emotion burned in her gaze. “Dinnae make the same mistake I did and turn from love yer whole bloody life when ‘tis ripe for the taking.”

  “Och, Auntie.” She squeezed Brighid’s hand, glad to finally hear her admit such. “Aaron then, aye?”

  Brighid eyed her for a moment, her cheeks rosier by the moment before she at long last relented. “Aye.” She sighed. “We have been so busy fighting what’s in front of us, the years fell behind.” She shook her head. “Dinnae let that happen betwixt ye and Colmac. Enjoy yer youth together.” Hope shimmered in her gaze. “Have some wee bairns for me to watch over, aye? Wee ones to love as much as I do ye.”

  “Wee bairns?” Rona murmured, thrilled at the idea of little ones running around.

  “Aye.” Brighid gave her a look that said she better answer correctly. “Ye’ll be wanting them, aye?”

  “I had thought little about it ‘til now,” she said softly.

  “’Tis telling that.”

  She looked at her aunt in question, and Brighid continued. “’Tis telling that only now I see that whimsical smile on yer face when speaking of wee bairns. ‘Tis even more telling that ye didnae think about them all the time ye were betrothed.” Her brows arched. “Yet now ye do with naught but a ring in yer palm and no solid commitment.”

  That was telling, indeed.

  “The pipes are trilling,” Brighid went on. “’Tis time to go below stairs for the ceremony.” Her aunt looked her over one last time then nodded with approval. “Ye’re a fine sight, my lass. Verra bonny.”

  “Thank ye.” She smiled at the lovely dress Brighid wore and the way she had pinned her hair back in a fashionable bun. “As are ye, Auntie.”

  “Och, nay.” She waved off the compliment. “I stopped being bonny years ago.”

  “Ye’re verra bonny and turn the lad’s heads just fine.” They stopped at the door. “Especially the one.” Rona rested her hand on Brighid’s forearm and met her aunt's eyes. “And ye’re wrong, ye know.”

  Brighid’s brows swept up. “About what?”

  “Ye’ve still plenty of years ahead,” she said. “’Twould be a shame if ye didnae cherish them the way God intended.”

  Brighid muttered under her breath, yet did not deny the possibility.

  “What of ye, my lass?” She looked from the ring to Rona. “Will ye cherish the years ahead as the good Lord intended?”

  She gazed at the ring one last time and finally came to a conclusion—one she hoped she would not regret—then gave Brighid her answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Though tempted to pace, Colmac stood in front of the fire with Tiernan and tried not to stare at the landing above. Would Rona be wearing the ring? Or had she decided against it? He could barely think straight not knowing.

  Tiernan’s amused gaze flickered from the landing to Colmac. “Ye arenae really with me, are ye?”

  “Och, my apologies.” He sipped his whisky and shook his head. “I eagerly await an answer.” He flinched at the MacLomain chieftain. “To something I probably should have spoken to ye about first.”

  “’Tis all right, friend.” Tiernan clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “Yer lass knows she has my approval.”

  “If only that were enough.” Colmac turned his attention to the fire. “There are no certainties in this.” He shook his head. “I might lose her before I have a chance to love her.”

  “Love is a risk, is it not?” Tiernan looked to the landing again. “A risk that is yers to face.”

  His heart stopped the moment he turned and locked eyes on Rona. She looked stunning in the red dress with her hair swept back. He swallowed, afraid to look at her hand, but she drew his attention that way by resting it over the other.

  “She’s wearing it,” he whispered, hardly believing his eyes. “Thank the good Lord.” He glanced from Tiernan to Rona, grinning. “She’s actually wearing it!”

  Despite his limp, Colmac bounded up the stairs, slowing just shy of her. He looked from the ring to Rona's lovely face, as Brighid peeked out from behind, her eyes merry. “Does this mean...”

  When he trailed off, almost afraid to ask, a smile blossomed on Rona’s face. “Aye, Colmac, I will marry ye.”

  “By the bloody rood,” he whooped, closing the distance. He swirled her once at the top of the stairs, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her soundly.

  Brighid eventually cleared her throat, and Rona smiled against his lips. She pulled away, her gaze so soft and dewy, he was tempted to bring her to bed now then marry her later.

  “Not to interrupt a good time,” Brighid grinned, “but I think the ceremony begins soon.”

  Adlin had entered with a clergyman, and the boisterous crowd was quieting.

  “Aye, ‘tis!” Colmac pulled Rona after him. “We dinnae want to miss this.”

  She laughed. “I think they will wait for us to get down the stairs.”

  Mayhap, but he refused to take any chances. He was finally marrying his lass and would see it done straight away. They joined several other couples in front of the clergyman and received their swaths of plaid. Adlin winked at them in passing and nodded with approval.

  “Yer former chieftain is verra gifted with foresight, aye?” He wrapped their wrists with a plaid strip that happened to consist of MacLauchlin colors.

  “Aye,” she mused. “Adlin’s always had a way about him.”

  The clergyman had just started speaking when Aaron called out. “Och, wait for us!”

  Rona’s eyes widened when Brighid and Aaron joined them. Her aunt smiled and winked. “As it happens, whilst I was giving ye advice, ye were doing the same for me, niece.”

  Rona smiled as well. “I couldnae be happier for ye both.” She looked back and forth between them. “Truly.”

  “Aye.” Aaron pulled a blushing Brighid close. “’Tis long past time.”

  “Aye.” Brighid’s eyes sparkled when she looked at him. “We just needed to stop bickering for a moment to see what was right in front of us.”

  “I always knew,” he assured. “’Twas ye who took a wee bit longer to see.”

  “Och, nay.” Brighid’s brows whipped together, and she pulled back in astonishment. “I always knew ‘twas ye who couldnae see.”

  He reeled her close again, clearly enjoying their banter. “So ye think.”

  “Aye, I do think,” she flirted, batting her lashes. “And as long as ye realize what I think is the truth of things then—”

  “Auntie!” Rona whispered.

  Brighid’s gaze went to her. “What?”

  Rona grinned. “’Tis time to get married already.”

  Indeed, the clergyman had begun the ceremony.

  Colmac faced Rona, truly amazed this day had arrived. One he had long given up on. Their gazes stayed with each other, as he said his vows first. “I, Colmac MacLauchlin take thee Rona MacLomain to be my wife as the law of the Holy Kirk says, and thereto I pledge my troth.”

  Her gaze turned moist, and she said hers in return. “I, Rona MacLomain take thee Colmac MacLauchlin to be my husband as the law of the Holy Kirk says, and thereto I pledge my troth.”

  Once all the couples had exchanged their vows, the clergyman said his final words and they were at last bonded as man and wife. Wasting no time, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, barely aware of the boisterous celebration resuming around them.

  Until Adlin’s voice rose above all and the great hall quieted down once more.

  “Whether they usually reside in the castle or not,” his eyes grazed over Colmac and Rona, “everyone who married this eve has been provided their own cottage for the night. After all,” he winked at the couples, “everyone knows the elves will be creating a ruckus so ‘tis
best ye stay cozy by a fire to keep them at bay.”

  “Och, I think they’ll be getting a wee bit more than cozy,” someone called out, invoking a round of chuckles.

  “Ye’ll know which cottage is yers by what hangs on the door,” Adlin continued. “Now hurry along my fine folk. As Hogmanay dictates, expect a knock on yer door at midnight.” He grinned at the children. “Then later ‘tis time for the wee bairns to open their gifts, aye?”

  “Aye,” they cried out.

  After they congratulated Brighid and Aaron, with embraces all around, Colmac made swift work of retrieving their cloaks, scooped Rona up and strode out of the castle.

  “Ye’re impatient,” she chastised, grinning.

  “Verra,” he agreed. She would be too if she knew what was coming. The pleasure he intended to give her again and again. All night long if he had his way.

  “There,” she exclaimed, pointing at a cottage through the driving snow. “It has our plaid tied to the front door.”

  He smiled when he spied MacLauchlin colors.

  By the time they made it in, laughing all the while, they were covered in snow. He lowered her and pulled her against him, barely noticing the crackling fire or pine and holly spread about festively.

  All he could see was her.

  “I cannae tell ye how many times I imagined this moment.” He cupped her cheek. “How I longed to make ye mine.”

  He closed his lips over hers and kissed her with all the passion he felt. With his very heart. Desperate to finally have her, and sink into her welcoming heat, he kept his lips with hers and tossed aside their cloaks. Then he cupped her backside and squeezed her against him, letting her know what to expect. How much he desired her. When she groaned in return, he grew desperate.

  He had to see her.

  Touch her.

  Taste everything she had to offer.

  Unfortunately, a knock at the door interrupted his intentions.

  “’Tis time for the first-footing,” she murmured against his lips.

  After the stroke of midnight, it was considered good luck for the New Year if the first person who crossed one’s threshold—preferably a neighbor, a family member or friend—offered a symbolic gift such as salt, bread, coal or whisky.

  In their case, it was Adlin with a wee dram or two of whisky.

  “’Tis lucky for us ye are a tall, handsome dark-haired fellow and not red-headed,” Rona grinned, “or our New Year might look verra bleak.”

  “Aye,” Adlin exclaimed, chuckling at the old superstition. “Worse yet, a red-headed lass!”

  The theory held that the Norse had ignited such beliefs. As it were, some swore Viking raiders first brought fair hair to Scotland. And if a Viking woman were first to enter, she would surely be followed by an angry Viking man.

  Adlin embraced and congratulated them both, then urged them to sit at a small table where a variety of tasty morsels and sweets had been left for their enjoyment. “I willnae keep ye long, but I promised ye I would explain everything.”

  “Aye, then.” Colmac poured them all whisky, curious. “About how the last letter got here? Mayhap who was behind it all from the beginning?”

  “’Twas yer brother behind it.” Adlin sighed and took a sip. “But ‘twas me and yer good ma who saw through his wishes.”

  “Ma?” He frowned. “She knows about all this then?”

  “Aye.” Adlin looked from Rona to Colmac. “And verra much approves of the union.”

  “She knew, aye?” Colmac said softly, sinking into a chair. He saw things so clearly now. “She knew how I felt about Rona all those years ago?”

  “From what I hear ‘tis safe to say most knew.” Adlin looked between them. “The love that blossomed betwixt ye that eve at MacLauchlin Castle was much talked about.” He winked. “Albeit in hushed tones.”

  “Och.” Rona looked at Colmac. “I didnae know we were so obvious.”

  “True love is impossible not to see,” Adlin informed. “Suffice it to say, things happened as they did. Bróccín grew ill, and he summoned me to help see through his final wishes. Yer ma was on the mend at that point, so we were together by his bedside in those final hours.”

  “’Tis all so happenstance,” Rona said. “How could he have foreseen this going as he planned? I wasnae even intending to stop at MacLauchlin Castle.”

  “I agree things were left to chance,” Adlin said. “He knew that but ‘twas his fondest hope ye would find yer way back to the castle when ye did, Rona.” A twinkle lit his eye. “Mayhap ‘twas the magic of the holiday that saw things through?”

  “Or Fate.” Colmac slipped his hand into hers. “Either way, despite the attack, I am glad ye ended up where ye did, Rona. That we were given a second chance.”

  Her gaze warmed. “Me too.”

  “Bróccín really was verra sorry in the end,” Adlin said softly. “But at peace in a way that was soothing to his soul. At peace believing the two people he loved most would find their way to each other once more.”

  Colmac bit back emotion and squeezed Rona’s hand. He could tell by the look in her eyes, that like him, she had released all anger and was at ease now. The past was in the past.

  “So ma hid the letters?” Colmac asked. “She even placed the first one by Rona’s bedside?”

  “I cannae speak to how she saw things through,” Adlin said. “But aye, she saw to the first three letters. I saw to the fourth and the ring.”

  “That is what she meant when she told me, Brighid and Aaron that Hogmanay would be a final farewell.” Rona's eyes met Colmac’s. “Because of the letters and what Bróccín hoped would happen betwixt ye and I, she knew we would be saying goodbye to yer brother in a way we never anticipated.”

  “Aye,” he replied. “So it seems.”

  “What of my dress, though?” She fingered the garment and looked at Adlin. “Where did it come from?”

  “Bróccín said ‘twas yer favorite color,” Adlin replied. “So I had one of our seamstresses prepare it in case ye arrived as we hoped ye might.”

  “But I never told Bróccín my favorite color...” she began and trailed off. Her gaze went to Colmac. “I told ye...earlier that day long ago.”

  “Aye, ye said ye wished ye had a red dress for the holiday.” He recalled the longing in her eyes. “So I suggested Bróccín might want to consider having one made for yer Hogmanay marriage.”

  “Ye thought of everything, aye?” she whispered.

  “Nay, I only though of ye, lass.”

  When their gazes lingered on one another, Adlin cleared his throat and stood. “Well, ‘tis best I leave ye two be and get back to my Mildred.” He embraced Rona then clasped Colmac’s hand. “We MacLomains are glad to welcome a strong alliance with the MacLauchlins.” He looked between them and nodded. “Might this union see yer clan grow stronger.”

  “Aye.” Colmac pulled her against him the moment Adlin was gone. “And what better way to strengthen a clan than giving it wee bairns?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heat spread through her at the hungry look in Colmac’s eyes. She could barely believe he was her husband now. That the love they had found long ago finally had a chance to flourish and grow.

  Ever so slowly, worshiping her with his gaze, he undid the sashes of her dress then lowered it over her shoulders. Nervous and excited all at once, she tensed, unsure what she should do. How she should respond.

  “’Tis all right, lass,” he said softly, evidently noticing her concern. “I will see ye well pleasured.”

  “I dinnae doubt it,” she said just as softly. Her dress pooled to the floor, leaving only her shift. “Yet I know nothing of pleasuring ye.”

  “Just being with ye brings me pleasure.” He crouched, helped her step free of the dress, and removed her shoes. His hands rode up her calves and thighs, and she struggled to breathe. “Just focus on how I make ye feel, Rona.” His eyes rose to hers. “Soon enough yer worry will fade.”

  She nodded but could not fin
d her voice to respond at the feel of his warm, weapon roughened hands on her sensitive flesh. A burning ache ignited between her thighs, and her legs grew weak. Something he seemed to realize because he stopped his slow torture, scooped her up and laid her on the bed.

  When he undressed, she could hardly hear the wind whistling through the rafters, her heart pounded so loudly. She had never seen a man nude but found she liked it. Very much. Or at least a man who looked like Colmac. Well-muscled from battle, and slightly scarred from wounds, his form appealed to her so greatly that the burning between her thighs returned with a vengeance.

  “Bloody hell,” she exclaimed, spying what hung between his legs. Long and thick, his cock was more than ready to claim her by the looks of it. Would it fit, though? That seemed an impossible feat.

  “’Tis all right,” he assured again, joining her.

  He cupped the side of her neck and kissed her softly at first before it grew more passionate. Lost in the sensation of his tongue dancing with hers, she relaxed as his hand traveled over her shoulder, down her arm, and across her stomach. Then it wandered up until he brushed the side of her breast. Shivers rushed through her, and her nipples tightened in anticipation.

  Seeming to understand what she needed, he palmed her breast through her shift and peppered kisses along her neck. As if unwrapping a treasured gift, he slowly lowered her shift and continued downward. Gooseflesh spread like wildfire and sensations heightened even more. Bracing herself, barely able to inhale, she arched when his mouth found her bare breast.

  Colmac rolled his tongue around her pebbled nipple, and her eyes fluttered closed. When he suckled it, they shot open on a moan. All the while, he worked her shift down and touched her. Featherlike on her belly causing tantalizing pleasure to fan out everywhere. Then more aggressively, making her writhe, desperate for more.

  “So bloody beautiful,” he groaned.

  His gaze swept over her, and his talented lips followed in the wake of his hand, kissing here, licking there. She was so caught up in the vivid sensations he wrung from her, she barely knew how far he had traveled until he tossed aside her shift. She thought for sure he would come back up but instead dropped kisses along her inner thigh.