Highland Bride

by Colleen French

Kara rose up and dug her knees into the feather tick. His broad hands settled on her hips, guiding her. He was so hot and hard, pressed against her woman's mound. She was becoming wet again, aching for him.

  She slid over him, sucking in her breath at the sudden burst of sensation. He moaned. She pressed her palms to his, sliding his hands upward over his head, stretching over him.

  Again and again she rose and fell to a rhythm that was theirs alone.

  He called her name. He murmured sweet words in Gaelic, words she didn't know. Fire spread through her loins, and again she rose on the tide that only Ian could create.

  Kara tried to hold back. She tried to drift on the waves, but she couldn't. She rose, then crashed down, lost to the surges of ecstasy she knew well, but could never get enough of.

  Ian crashed just behind her, calling her name, driving upward.

  Kara fell flat upon his chest, panting, laughing. She covered his chest with kisses.

  "Ah, Kara," he breathed. "I will never have enough of you." He slid his hand over the small of her back in a gentle caress. "I do not know what I have done to deserve you, but I am thankful."

  She slid off him, onto her side, and cuddled against him. He held her tightly in his arms and kissed her mouth, the tip of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows.

  They were quiet for a moment, basking in the warmth of their lovemaking, of their love. When Ian spoke it was softly, seriously. "Do you think we need to consider the idea of leaving this place?"

  He had never mentioned such an option before. She had thought it out of the question. It was out of the question. She opened her eyes to gaze into his. "I canna leave him," she whispered.

  He closed his eyes with a groan, unable to hold her gaze. "I do not think I can either, not now. Not yet."

  "Not now," she echoed.

  He drew the blanket over them. "What if you become with child?"

  She wondered if he felt her stiffen in his arms. Did he know? How could he? Only she knew... and perhaps Isla. But the girl had not mentioned it. Of course he couldn't know. He was only speculating.

  She wondered if she should tell him now. Aye, perhaps now was better.

  Kara inhaled, gathering her thoughts, trying to arrange her words in her head. She had already practiced what she would say to Ian, but now the words escaped her.

  "Ian, I—"

  Harry's door creaked open. It happened so quickly that neither she nor Ian had time to react. And react? React how? There was no place to run. No place to hide.

  "Kara? Kara, are you awake?" Harry said, shuffling barefoot into her room. He held his hand to his stomach. "Kara, my belly hurts something fierce. Do ye think—"

  He halted in midsentence, his gaze falling upon her bed, upon her and Ian lying in each other's arms.

  Chapter 21

  "Harry!" Ian released Kara and slid out of bed in one motion.

  "W-what...? H-how...?" Harry stammered, staring at them. The fire on the hearth cast dim yellow light across his young face, glistening on the tears in his blue eyes.

  Tears sprang into Kara's eyes. She couldn't stand to see him hurt like this, not by those he loved. Not by her and Ian. "Harry—"

  "Nae," he snapped, surprising her with the depth of his anger. He held up one hand to halt her. "Do not speak."

  Ian had started across the room for him, unclothed, but stopped.

  "Do not say a word," Harry whispered harshly. "Either of you." He clasped his head with both hands as if in pain. "I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't stand it."

  He turned away from them, walked back through his doorway, and slammed the door shut. Hard.

  Kara looked at Ian. All along she had known there was a possibility that Harry would discover them, but somehow she had convinced herself it wouldn't happen. Somehow she could not believe it had happened.

  "Ah, hell," Ian muttered.

  She slid across the bed to sit on its edge, dragging the woolen counterpane with her. Her hair fell in tangled waves over her shoulders. She felt vile. Evil. She had no regret for loving Ian. She only regretted that she had not been able to prevent Harry from finding out. She had never wanted to hurt him; she had never wanted to fall in love with Ian. It had just happened.

  "I should go to him," she said softly.

  Ian picked up his clothing and walked to the hearth. "Nae. This is between us, Harry and me." He dressed slowly.

  She stared at him. "Between only Harry and you? I think not." She stood, taking the blanket with her. Suddenly the room was cold. Frigid. She found her night rail and slipped into it, returning the blanket to the bed. "I was certainly as much a participant as you."

  "But Kara—"

  "He is my husband," she whispered loudly.

  "Shhh." He brought a finger to his lips. "You do not want to wake Isla or the baby."

  She yanked the ribbon tie of her night rail, covering herself fully. "I will not allow you to take responsibility for this. At least not any more than I."

  He sat on the edge of a chair to put on his boots. He suddenly seemed tired, older than he had when he had entered her bedchamber. "Kara, we must stay calm."

  "I am calm," she snapped.

  "We must be careful what we say. What we do. We still must protect Harry. Remember, he has greater enemies than you and I, than this."

  Who did he mean? Dungald? Other clansmen who wanted Harry's power, even a portion of it? When clan lords fell, she knew authority and land were often divided. There were so many who could profit from the young earl's demise. A scandal like this could weaken him, cause him to lose the ground he had gained.

  Kara's hand instinctively found her abdomen. Ian said they must protect Harry, but he didn't know who else he must protect. Only she knew they must also safeguard her secret, her babe. Her heart beat faster, but she forced herself to remain calm. This was no time for female hysterics. "What do you think Harry will do?"

  Ian ran his fingers through his silky hair, which had now dried. His voice was edged with guilt, sadness.

  Kara ached to the very pit of her stomach, not just for Harry, but for Ian, too. For herself. For all of them.

  "I don't know what my brother will do. Nothing rash, I think. He's matured a great deal in the last months. But just to be safe," he said carefully, "I think you should pack something."

  "Pack something?" Did he mean what she thought he meant? Did he think she would flee? Abandon him, abandon them both? She padded barefoot to the hearth to stand in front of him. He suddenly seemed so large again, as large as he had seemed when she'd first come to Dunnane. Imposing, even. "Pack something for what?"

  "In case I must send you off."

  "Send me? You are not sending me anywhere, Ian Munroe! Do you think I'm a parcel that can be sent off?"

  He rose. "This is my fault. I should have gone from here when I had the opportunity. This never should have happened," he said miserably.

  She turned away, her back to him. She didn't want to quarrel with Ian. But they were of equal blame and she wanted her share. "You never had an opportunity," she said softly. She sniffed to fight her tears.

  Everything was crumbling around her. She could hear the mortar cracking; she could feel the thunder of the stones as they fell. "Ye never had a chance with me, Ian Munroe. Not from the first time I laid eyes on ye."

  He walked up behind her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "What is important is that we stay calm now."

  She nodded. "Let's both go in and speak with him."

  Ian rested his cheek on her shoulder, slipping one hand around her waist. "Nae."

  "Ian, I don't want you to do this alone."

  "Actually, I think we should respect his wishes and leave him be," he said. "For tonight."

  She turned in his arms to face him, studying his dark eyes.

  "Let him try to get some sleep," he explained. "The excitement of the day, all the ale he drank. He's not thinking clearly and I suspect he knows it. He needs sleep. Time to think."

  "And
what if tomorrow he orders your hanging?" She smoothed his cheek. "I think maybe it is you who should go, tonight, now."

  He gazed into her eyes, speaking fiercely. "Nae. I will not abandon my brother. Not ever."

  Her lower lip trembled. How could a woman not love such a man? "He won't have you hanged, you know. He loves you too much."

  He grasped both her arms. "Are ye certain ye'd not rather leave the walls of the castle, just for tonight? I know a place where you would be safe down in the village. A woman who would—"

  She pressed a finger to his lips. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together." She smiled sadly. "Now go to your chambers. Try to sleep a little."

  He brushed his lips against hers. "Good night, my love."

  She watched him walk toward the door, hugging herself for comfort as much as warmth. "Good night."

  "Leave him tonight. I'll come in the morning. All will not seem so desperate in the morning. It never does."

  She turned away as he closed the door behind himself, praying silently that he was right.

  * * *

  Kara had not thought she could possibly sleep a wink. After Ian left her, she stood for the longest time beside Harry's door, listening. She heard him crying, then silence as he drifted off to sleep. For a time she debated whether she should go in, even though she and Ian had agreed she would not. In the end, she chose to respect Harry's wishes and leave him alone.

  Cold, she had climbed into bed. Dawn would be upon them soon. She closed her eyes for only a moment, and the next thing she knew, she was opening them again. Her bedchamber was bathed in sunlight and Isla was moving about her chamber, humming to herself.

  "Finally, you're awake. I was wondering if you were dead, my lady."

  Kara climbed out of bed, still in her night rail. "Where's Harry?" She walked toward his closed door. "Is he still abed?"

  "Nae." Isla frowned, picking up one of Kara's shifts to fold. "Up long ago. I think he went hunting with his new hawk."

  She looked at Isla. "Did Ian go?"

  The girl halted, watching Kara carefully. "I don't know, mistress." She halted in midfold. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

  Tears welled in Kara's eyes and she walked to the window to look down into the courtyard, then out over the rolling hills. The lush green of the meadows was beginning to brown. Cool weather was blowing out of the mountains, carrying the winds of winter. "You heard nothing last night?"

  Isla came to her mistress. "Nae. The babe slept all night. I never woke till she fussed for her breakfast this morning."

  Kara leaned on the stone sill and closed her eyes, fighting her tears. She felt so helpless, so blessedly guilty. "Harry knows," she said softly.

  Kara heard Isla suck in her breath.

  "My lady," the maid breathed in horror. "He found you and Master Ian abed?"

  She could only nod, unable to find her voice.

  "What did he say?"

  "Nothing," she whispered.

  Isla took a step toward her and wrapped her thin arms around Kara's shoulders from behind.

  "Oh, Isla, what am I going to do?" she whispered, turning so that her tears fell on her serving girl's shoulder. "I'm going to have a baby."

  "And not his lordship's, I suppose?"

  Again, Kara could do nothing but shake her head.

  "And now the calf be out of her pen so there's no convincing the earl it's his?"

  Kara had to laugh. Isla had such a way with words. "Out of its pen and running wild, I fear."

  Isla lifted the hem of her clean apron and wiped at Kara's eyes. "There, there, now, mistress. Cryin' will do no good but make you ugly."

  Again Kara had to smile.

  "And where is Master Ian?"

  Feeling better, Kara took a step back. "I don't know. Long gone from here, if he has any sense."

  The girl studied her, hands on her hips. "But the big old bear doesn't, does he?"

  Kara ran a hand through her hair and walked to the pitcher of fresh water Isla had brought for her. She poured some into a china basin and splashed it on her face. "Not a bit of sense."

  "Going to be your hero, eh? Swing by his neck for ye?" Isla handed her a small linen hand towel.

  "Harry would not do that."

  "Nae. He would not," the girl agreed firmly. "He loves his brother too much, loves you both. That I know."

  "But how?" Kara rubbed the rough fabric against her wet face. "How can you know?"

  "Because I know what he tells me. How he looks at you both. His heart is nothing but goodness, my lady."

  Kara felt her lower lip tremble and tears fill her eyes again.

  "Now, now," Isla said. "Don't be startin' that again. Tell me what ye want to do and we'll do it. You always been a woman of action. If ye want to pack your bag and go, I'll lower ye from the tower by my own hair."

  Kara would have laughed, but she knew Isla was serious. She was fortunate to have someone so devoted to her. "I will not run," she said. "Neither of us will run. We would not abandon him."

  Isla opened her arms. "So there ye have it. Neither of ye will abandon his lordship. Ye take it from there."

  Kara set down the towel, feeling calmer. "Would ye find Ian for me? Find out if he's here or gone with Harry."

  Isla opened the door. "I'll find him, and a draught of tea for ye as well. Ye'll have tea and biscuits."

  Kara held her stomach. "I couldn't possibly eat."

  "Ye'll eat anyway."

  Isla was not out of the room more than a minute when she entered again. "Told ye I'd find him." She stepped back to allow Ian passage. "Be back with your breakfast, my lady."

  Ian stood at the door even after Isla was gone. He had changed his clothing and was wearing a green and brown leine chroich, brown stockings, and boots. His hair was combed neatly and tied back with a leather band. He smelled of shaving soap.

  "Where is he?"

  "Slipped out before I could catch him," Ian said quietly.

  "Alone?"

  He hesitated, as if debating whether to tell her the truth. "With Dungald."

  She lifted her hand to her mouth. "You don't think Harry would have—"

  "Nae," he cut her off. "I do not think he would have told Dungald. He doesn't care for his cousin. He doesn't trust him, and wisely so. I think he went hunting, as Isla said. To get his mind off this."

  She sat back on the edge of her bed. "But still, he went alone with him." She took a long breath. "I wish he hadn't."

  "I wish he hadn't either."

  In the last months Dungald had shown himself to be no true threat, and yet Kara saw him as one anyway. "Do ye think ye should ride after him?"

  "I sent a patrol, just to scout, not necessarily to check on his lordship." His gaze met hers. "But the man I sent—"

  "He'll keep an eye out for him. Perhaps run into him."

  Ian nodded. "I think it's the best we can do... considering."

  She stared at her hands in her lap. "So now what do we do?"

  "There's nothing we can do." His hands hung at his sides. "Nothing but wait for his lordship's return."

  * * *

  All day Kara tried to keep busy. She visited the dairy and oversaw a thorough cleaning. She helped Cook with an inventory of the kitchen cellar. She ordered spinners to begin making blankets for Christmas gifts for families who lived in the village of Dunnane. She even began stitching a baby gown, thinking that anyone who noticed would think it was for Isla's baby. Only she and Isla would know the truth.

  Midday passed, and though Kara had a meal prepared, Harry did not return home. She began to worry. What if he had fallen from his horse and been injured? What if Dungald had killed him and was now trying to cover the crime? Would he return to say the Earl of Dunnane had met with a terrible accident? Had the cattle reivers attacked and murdered the boy?

  By the time the sun began to set Kara was half-crazy with worry. She was just lighting candles about the great room, ordering bread and cheese and ale for the Gordon men prese
nt, when she heard the bark of Harry's hounds—the announcement he had returned.

  She met him at the yett. Alone, he walked slowly up the stone walk, carrying a string of doves. He held them out for her as he passed, avoiding her gaze. "I brought home something for the table. If it's too late we can—"

  "Nae," she said, taking the day's kill from him. "Cook can have them plucked and roasting in no time. I waited for you. I've not yet eaten."

  He stepped into the entrance hall, out of sight of the yett's guard. She followed.

  "I think I'll bathe and then come down to eat," he said quietly.

  "I'll call for a bath."

  His blond hair fell forward over his face. "Would... would you send Isla?" he asked.

  She could not hide the pain in her voice. Pain not for herself, but for him. "You don't want me to attend you?"

  "You see to the meal. I'll be down directly." He turned away from her, his voice small. "Just send Isla... please?"

  Kara found Isla in the kitchen, baby Meggie on her hip. "He wants you," she whispered in her servant's ear. "Order bathwater."

  Isla touched her breast. "He wants me?"

  Kara laid the doves on the worktable—the same table upon which she and Ian had shared a meal of bread and cheese the first week she had arrived. She was amazed how much older she felt now. Since that night she had known such happiness, such sadness.

  "He's always found you easy to talk to," Kara said softly, not wanting to share the conversation with the cooks in the kitchen. She took the baby from Isla's arms.

  "What do I say?"

  Kara's gaze met Isla's. "Be honest. It's what he expects from you. It's what he deserves."

  Isla gave her mistress a squeeze of her hand and hurried out of the kitchen. "I'll be back directly."

  Kara turned to watch her go. "I'll wait in the hall," she said. "Hurry back."

  * * *

  Harry sat on the edge of his bed, the same bed he had once shared with Kara. He smoothed the counterpane, fighting the tears that threatened to spill again now that he was alone.

  He hadn't known. How had he not known?

  His wife. His brother.

  Fool. How could he not have known?

  How could she not have loved him? How could any woman not love Ian? Strong, silent, brave Ian. And handsome, he was so damned handsome and virile.