Declan's Bride: A Highland Romp

by Hildie McQueen

  By the widening of her eyes and her mouth falling open, his words shocked her. “I did not think ye wouldn’t be.”

  A soft chuckle escaped him. “Is that true?”

  She exhaled and looked to the ground. “Perhaps I wondered. Ye seemed to enjoy her attentions.”

  “I did. ‘Tis flattering. But that is all.”

  Alarm crossed her features and he continued. “However, I did inform her that I vowed to be faithful to ye and would never succumb. I told her that she wasted her time.”

  “Thank ye for telling me. I know neither of us wished for this rushed marriage. But I hope that, in time, we will learn to care for one another.”

  Her words sunk in and he studied her for a moment. Of course, he wished for the same. Although he’d known her since they had been young, it was only a few times a year that he’d seen her through the years. It wasn’t until the night he’d watched her dance that he found himself attracted to her.

  “I wish the same, lass.” He took her hand and pulled her closer. Then, tipping her chin, he covered her mouth with his.

  Although she was a bit stiff at first, when he continued to kiss her, she softened and grasped his shoulders. Bolder, he pulled her plush body against his, enjoying very much the feel of her. At a soft moan, he realized it came from him and Declan broke the kiss.

  He placed his forehead against hers and their gazes locked. “Ye are mine and I am yers, Wife.”

  Dimples formed when her lips curved. The flush in her cheeks caused a stirring within his loins. This was the kindling. The beginning of what he hoped would be a strong bond with the woman he was tied to for life.

  Throughout the last meal, Declan could barely concentrate as he willed time to pass so he could be in private with Cairstine. She sat beside him and he slid looks to her. She was in conversation with his mother. They discussed going to the village to purchase fabric and such to occupy themselves during the bitter winter months.

  Although he tried to concentrate on whatever his brother said about the guards’ training, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on his wife’s throaty voice as she informed his mother about what she hoped to do to decorate her chambers.

  It was then he realized she’d not be in his room, but in her own.

  “I do believe the meat was already dead before it was placed upon yer plate.” Gordan studied his food. “Now ‘tis past recovery. I don’t think ye will even have to chew it.”

  Indeed, the meat was obliterated. He’d somehow managed to tear it to a pulp. “Hmmm,” he grunted.

  “What has ye in such a sour mood, Brother?” Gordan looked past him to Cairstine who giggled at something their mother said.

  Unsure of what he felt at the moment, Declan took his tankard and emptied it. Immediately, Cairstine motioned for a maid to refill it. The action astonished him. Obviously, she maintained an eye on him. He piled the meat into a mound and shoveled it into his mouth.

  Although her family was well to do, her bedroom back home did not compare to the room she stood in now. The chambers Cairstine had been given at the Murray keep were luxurious. The large bed was flanked by ornate night tables. On the wall opposite the bed were doors that opened to a balcony overlooking the courtyard. Another window on the wall would allow for a breeze during warmer weather.

  In front of the heart were two chairs with a small, low table between them where she could entertain.

  There was an oversized, two-door wardrobe she’d never possibly fill. And a beautifully carved trunk was centered at the foot of the bed to hold any other belongings.

  In one corner was a dressing table with a beautiful vase atop it. There was also a pair of long mirrors that allowed for the inspection of her hair and clothing. She walked in a circle, pleased with the beauty of the space.

  Although her husband’s chambers were well appointed, this room was much nicer. It said a lot that the rooms saved for the Murrays’ wives were grander than those of the men.

  However, it felt empty and lonely. She wondered how often Declan would come to seek her company or her bed. Would he leave after joining with her?

  They were expected to produce children, of course. But other than the duty as husband, would he come often?

  The adjoining door remained closed. Perhaps she would ask if they could keep it open during the night. The entire practice of separate rooms was the one thing she didn’t understand about lairds and their families.

  After an hour of brushing her hair and arranging a few of her things, a maid entered to check on her. She’d never had a personal maid. However, she and her mother did have a servant who assisted them both, when needed, as one of her duties.

  The young girl, a rather plain but friendly sort, bobbed her head. “Lady Cairstine. I am Alice, appointed by the laird’s wife to be at yer disposal. Lady Murray asked that I come and see about helping ye undress for bed.” She looked to the brush in Cairstine’s hand. “I see ye’ve already brushed yer hair out.”

  Cairstine smiled at the lass. “Nice to meet ye, Alice. Please call me Cairstine. We both know I will nay be a laird’s wife. I prefer it.”

  “As ye wish.” Alice beamed at her. “Now, let’s see about getting ye ready for bed. I am sure yer husband is anxious.”

  “Anxious? Why do ye say that?”

  “Oh.” Alice flushed. “I overstep. My mouth always gets me in trouble.”

  Cairstine waved her words away. “Tell me.”

  “I passed him on the way in. He’s frowning and pacing in the corridor.”

  She didn’t dare tell the girl the last thing Declan could be was anxious. A virgin and without knowledge of what transpired between a man and a woman up until the night before did not elicit desire. Cairstine was sure her inexperience did not entice a man in the least.

  An hour later, she tossed in the large bed for the hundredth time, it seemed. She watched the shadows of the moonlight through her window and, once again, repeated the things she planned to do to make the room more hers.

  Embroidered pillows on the chairs and some for the bed. She’d appoint a tapestry made for over the hearth and...

  There was a sound and she looked around. The door between her and Declan’s room opened and he peered in. “Are ye asleep?”

  “Nay,” Cairstine whispered. “Are ye unwell?”

  He didn’t reply, but walked in. From what she could see, he wore a light tunic that fell past his thighs.

  “Nay.” With that one word, he climbed into her bed and pulled her against him, immediately nuzzling into her hair.

  Although the feel of him was quite nice, doubts rose and Cairstine felt inept at what she should do.

  “Tell me what to do,” she whispered. “I want to please ye.”

  “Mmm.” His response was not exactly helpful. So she decided to allow herself to do as she pleased. If he was unpleased, Declan was direct enough to let her know.

  She raked her fingers through his hair as he took her mouth. She slid her other hand down his back to cup his left butt cheek.

  Urged by her actions, he pushed his tongue into her mouth and moaned. Declan’s hardness pressed between her legs and, instantly, heat exploded throughout her body.

  “Oh!” she couldn’t help exclaim at the tearing sounds of her chemise. Declan was like a man possessed. He ripped off his tunic and stared down at her before taking one breast in his hand and the other into his mouth.

  Sensations coursed through her like rivers of fire and Cairstine wrapped her legs around him. “I hoped ye’d be a passionate one,” Declan murmured and trailed his tongue around her taut nipple. “It pleases me.”

  Once again, he suckled and moved his other hand from the right breast down her side to her core. His fingers splayed her nether lips and his thumb strummed lightly at her already throbbing nub.

  She bucked into this hand. “Oh.”

  It was wonderful, almost painful in a way, how the need demanded to be quenched. At the same time, she wanted nothing more than for him to c
ontinue.

  Raking her fingernails down his back, she hesitated at his binding. But before she could warn him to be gentle, not to chance further injury, his hard sex prodded at her entrance and he nudged in slowly.

  “Relax for me,” he instructed, his voice husky and breathless.

  Letting out a breath, Cairstine thrust up to meet his plunge and both cried out at joining.

  Declan moved with grace, each drive in perfect rhythm with her upward lifts. Skin clapped against skin as they raced to reach the elusive peaking.

  He slid out of her and guided her onto her stomach. Then he pulled her hips up and she lifted to all fours. “I want to take ye from behind. Leaves me free to touch ye more.”

  Unsure what to expect, she looked over her shoulder. Declan’s hair was tussled about his face and shoulders, his eyes dark and lips parted. Every muscle of his beautiful body seemed taut and his chest glistened.

  His gaze locked to hers. He guided into her entrance and she gasped at the deep intrusion. Hands on her hips, he thrust in and pulled out over and over again. The plunges became harder and faster until Cairstine could barely breathe. His fingers slid between her legs and upon but a few strokes, Cairstine burst into pieces, her cries loud and long.

  Declan groaned loudly as his body shook with his own release.

  Finally after a long while, he pulled out and she collapsed onto the bed.

  Barely able to catch her breath, Cairstine reached for him. After a brief hesitation, he took her hand and allowed her to pull him to lie beside her. “Declan, would ye stay here with me?”

  His lips curved and he pulled the bedding coverings down. Then after she slid between them, he joined her.

  “I will have ye again,” he said, already sounding drowsy.

  But a mere minute later, Cairstine wanted to laugh at hearing a soft snore.

  “Not tonight, Husband,” she whispered and snuggled against him.

  Chapter Nine

  Horns alarmed everyone to action. From where he stood atop the keep, Declan could make out horsemen in the distance. From the looks of it, there were at last twenty, if not more. Guards rushed to their stations. Another group of men rushed to the gates, closing the large doors.

  Gordan and several of the archers climbed to the top of the gates. Additional warriors, poured from the doorway and assembled next to where Declan stood.

  Declan hurried down the steep stairs and out to the courtyard. He called up to where his brother was watching the approaching riders. “Aye, Gordan, we expecting anyone?”

  “Nay.” His brother glared down at him. “What are ye doing out here?”

  It was best to ignore the comment. A hurt warrior was better than none.

  If it came to it, He’d find the strength to fight. Anything, even death, was preferable than hiding inside with the women.

  His father came to stand next to him. After giving him a curious look, he looked up to where Gordan stood. “Do ye see any colors?”

  “It could be the McDonalds. I see yellow.” Gordan did not look down. Instead, he called out to the archers. “At the ready!”

  Even if it was the McDonalds, who they had a tenuous relationship with at best, they were prepared to defend the keep.

  The large party stopped and waited for recognition.

  “Identify yerselves,” Gordan called out, even though it was obvious.

  “The McDonald. Here to see yer laird,” someone shouted.

  Although they’d be granted entrance as it was the custom of the Highlands, there was a moment before Gordan replied. “Aye.”

  No one relaxed, the archers kept their bows at the ready as the gates were opened. Being that the laird rode in front of the advancing men flanked by just two guardsmen, it set a tone for his father. Laird Murray remained with his four guards in the center of the courtyard.

  Everyone was silent until the McDonald dismounted along with his guards. Ten guardsmen had followed the visiting laird inside. The others remained just outside the gates. They would either remain outside or be invited in.

  That decision was up to his father.

  Declan and Gordan joined their father as he greeted the older laird. The McDonald’s calculating gaze moved about the courtyard as he waited for them to approach. The man was of a tall stature and had a wide face that was overrun with a bright red beard. His eyes, a bright blue, remained flat as he looked to the Murrays.

  The visiting laird’s guardsmen remained just behind him and Declan recognized one as the McDonald’s second born, Alasdair.

  The Murray greeted the visitors first and extended his hand to Laird McDonald. “Aye Finlay.”

  Grasping the other man’s wrist, the McDonald returned the greeting. “Haven’t seen ye in a while, Craig.”

  They would not discuss the purpose of the visit. It was understood that the Murray council would meet with the visiting laird and only then would he speak. Once a meal was served and the proper courtesies were out of the way, they would then get to the business of what brought the McDonald.

  The party of two lairds, sons and personal guards walked inside where Declan’s mother, Moira and Cairstine stood in the great room. Declan’s heart swelled at noting how beautiful his wife looked. Although her expression was neutral, her cheeks colored at his inspection of her.

  His father performed introductions, first his wife, followed by Moira and, finally, he introduced Cairstine. “Cairstine is Declan’s wife. They just married recently.”

  Alasdair looked to Declan and then regarded Cairstine with more than required intensity. Declan clenched his jaw when he noted his wife looked from the man to him as if in question.

  Declan went to her and took her elbow. He guided her to a table at the front where cups had already been set out.

  They waited until the lairds sat at the table. The men would wait for the council to gather.

  “We should leave. Unless ye require anything?” his mother asked, knowing they’d be dismissed.

  “Nay, thank ye.” His father’s warm gaze met his wife’s and she smiled in return before looking to the McDonald. “Welcome to our home.”

  The man nodded and the women, including Cairstine, made their way toward the stairwell.

  Alasdair’s gaze followed Cairstine until Declan cleared his throat.

  Gordan sent him a warning look not to lose his temper, but it was too late. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, he would have knocked the idiot to the ground.

  “Yer wife is beautiful,” Alasdair said with a lift of shoulder. “I saw her once or twice in the village. She caught my attention.”

  Something about the way the man regarded his wife made him wonder if, perhaps, they’d been acquainted before. He had no question about whether or not Cairstine had been a virgin. She was.

  However, there were ways to be intimate that did not include deflowering a woman. Cairstine did not seem to take much notice of Alasdair, so perhaps it had been one-sided, with only the idiot taking notice of her.

  “What troubles ye?” Gordan spoke into his ear. “Ye’re glaring at the McDonalds.”

  Declan ensured a neutral expression. “I don’t like the son.”

  “Ye never have. Since the one time ye fought at the games.”

  “He cheated.”

  “I don’t think he did. ‘Twas that ye and he never have liked each other.”

  An hour later, the council was finally gathered and the McDonald was at ease to speak. He took a long draw from his tankard before explaining the presence of Norsemen in one of the northern villages. The Vikings had pillaged the houses, burning everything to the ground after killing most of the men. The women had either been raped or taken. The few elderly that were left behind had managed to keep the injured and bairns from dying until they were found.

  The gravity of the news brought a heavy silence as the McDonald continued. “’Tis best we prepare and ensure our people are protected through the winter months. The Norse will travel further south next time. I come
to warn ye, as our lands are side by side and we are the furthest north of this isle.”

  A fair laird who rarely punished the people with more than a few days in the dungeon, his father hated when innocents were killed for no good reason other than to steal.

  “We must plan and prepare, as ye suggest. Perhaps set up sentries to keep guard far enough north that they can warn us with plenty of time to be ready.” As always, his father displayed a keen intelligence as he continued to elaborate on what plan of action would be best.

  The discussion continued. They would bring the smaller surrounding clans into the agreement of joining forces against imminent attack. Their isle in the Hebrides, the furthest north of the isles, meant they were isolated and had to do for themselves.

  With King James imprisoned, the country had its hands full in dealing with the English.

  Alasdair spoke next. “We will ask that ye be the ones to approach Clan Lyon, as we don’t...see eye-to-eye with them at the moment.”

  Declan and Gordan waited to see what their da would say, as they were not on the best of terms with the clan either. However, the McDonalds were the largest clan and also the ones with the most enemies.

  “Aye, I agree. I will speak to the McNeil as well. ‘Tis best ye don’t go onto their lands after last winter.” His father’s bluntness made Declan want to smile. The McDonalds and McNeils had clashed over a border region and, as a result, Laird McNeil had been fatally injured.

  “Is there anyone ye can speak to?” Declan gave Alasdair a pointed look. “Or are we to be the negotiators of every agreement.”

  Alasdair’s nostrils flared. “We will more than pull our weight with a large army of warriors.”

  That was true as the McDonald could boast over eight hundred strong at least.

  The time for the evening meal came. Minstrels who’d been summoned played music as the food was served and ale poured.

  Cairstine walked into the room with Declan’s sister wearing a beautiful green gown that brought out her eyes. Her auburn tresses had been braided back with only a few loose tendrils framing her face.