Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  "On what?"

  "On how you will feel about sharing fatherhood with your brother."

  There, she'd said it. At first she had been bound and determined to tell Ian by Christmas. Then the holidays had passed. Last week they had celebrated Epiphany in Dunnane's tiny chapel. It had been time to tell him, to tell him and Harry before the swelling of her abdomen became evident.

  Ian was silent, so silent that she was afraid to look into his eyes. Holding her breath, she forced herself to look up. Surely he had known this was coming.

  She was thankful he was grinning, grinning like a boy who had just opened his first gift of the Advent season. And this wasn't a gift of a stocking or a bonnet; this was the bow, the dirk he had always wanted. "A child?" he said softly.

  She exhaled, bit down on her lower lip and smiled hesitantly. He wanted her child as much as she wanted his. She could see it in the glimmer of his dark brown eyes. "A child."

  "When?"

  She gazed down at her snow-covered boots. "Early June, I should think."

  "June?" he growled. "You mean you've known all this time, and you didn't tell me?"

  "I thought it would be better to wait until I was certain I wouldn't miscarry. That happens often, you know. Especially the first time." She paused, knowing she needed to be completely honest with him. He waited patiently for her to speak again. That was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He was such a good listener, a rarity among men.

  "And because I was a little afraid. Afraid for all of us."

  She gripped the mug. "I needed to keep the secret a little while. Keep it to myself."

  "You should have told me sooner. This changes things."

  She gazed out onto the pond and watched Harry and Isla skate past them, arms linked. They were smiling, heads bowed, whispering. "It doesn't have to."

  Ian threw back the rest of his hot cider and set the mug back on the rock. "If it is born a boy, born alive and lives until his christening, he will be named the next heir of Dunnane."

  "Dungald's place will slip," she said softly. "Harry's position will be solidified."

  "Aye."

  She looked at him over the rim of her cup, wanting to be brave, but wishing he would put his arm around her right now. Wishing he could give her the courage she knew she would need. But even though Harry knew the truth that they were lovers, out of respect for him they behaved no differently with each other in public than they had before.

  "Do you think our child will be at risk?"

  "You could be at risk."

  "I don't care about myself," she said quickly. "Only the baby."

  Standing beside her, he eased his hand around her waist; their cloaks covering his gesture. "I care for our child's safety, as well, but it is you I must protect."

  She understood.

  For a moment they stood in silence watching Isla and Harry skate round and round the pond. To watch them one would think Harry had not a care in the world.

  "I'll tell him tonight."

  "Want me to join you?"

  She shook her head, leaning back against him, cherishing his touch. "Nae. 'Tis a woman's place to tell her husband she carries another man's child."

  "He—"

  "Or she," she interrupted.

  "Or she," Ian corrected himself, "will bear Harry's name." He said the words carefully, as if they pained him.

  "Of course." She glanced up at him through a veil of lashes. "But we will know the truth."

  He tightened his grip around her waist in a hug, then lowered his arm and walked away. "Harry, 'tis getting dark! We'd best get that babe home."

  Harry waved and skated by with Isla on his arm. "One more time around," he called, as any boy would.

  Kara brushed the single tear that fell on her cheek as she watched her boy-husband skate by. She didn't know why she was crying. Happiness? Sadness?

  Mayhap both.

  * * *

  "I suppose this was to be expected," Harry said more calmly than she knew he felt.

  Kara sat across from him before the fireplace in his private bedchamber. Isla had turned in, leaving them in privacy. Kara had already dressed for bed and made them both a cup of hot chocolate.

  He ran his hand through his hair, letting it fall over one cheek. "You told him."

  She nodded, watching him.

  "A child," he said softly, almost in wonder. "A child who will bear my name."

  "As long as that's what you wish."

  He rose abruptly. "You say that as if we have any choice." He opened his arms. "As if I have a choice."

  She looked him directly in the eye. She was not ashamed; she would not be ashamed of the child she carried out of love. "This will be an heir. No one will be able to question your place at the head of the table."

  He lifted his monkey from where it slept on a pillow on his bed, and stroked the little creature. "It's not that I'm a fool. I knew it was going to happen. I just wasn't ready to hear it."

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "If anywhere along the way I could have done something differently, hurt you less..." Her voice trailed off.

  Harry stood a long moment in silence, stroking his pet. "Are you feeling well enough?" he asked then.

  "Fine. Thank you."

  "You should have another maid. Even with Isla's help you do too much."

  She smiled. "I'm strong and healthy. 'Twas the reason I was married off to the Gordons to begin with."

  He sighed. "I forget sometimes that this was not your choice either, to come here, to marry me."

  She rose and went to him, laying a hand on his slender arm. "I'm so glad I have you. So proud to call you my friend."

  His blue-eyed gaze searched hers. "You mean that when you say it, don't you?"

  She nodded.

  He smiled grimly.

  "But... Harry, I was thinking we should wait a while longer before we tell anyone else." It was up to him, of course. The child would be his in name. Never completely hers and Ian's. It would be a difficult burden to bear, but one she had known all along that she must.

  "May I ask why?"

  "The farther along I am, the better the chances the child will survive. Men rejoice upon the birth of heirs; they lose faith in miscarriages. 'Tis ridiculous, but to question the seed of a man is to question his strength." She thought a moment. "And also, I... I'd like to keep it between us, the three of us, a little longer. Our own secret." She lifted a hand as if she had no true reason. "A woman's foolishness."

  He stared out into the room for a moment. "Certainly. Whatever you wish." His gaze returned to hers.

  "Thank you," she said softly, letting her hand fall to her side.

  "For what?"

  "Understanding."

  "I'm sure I'll never truly understand. Our lives are so tangled." He stroked the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I had never realized how complicated lives could become. Nothing is as easy as I thought it would be, nor as clear."

  "Want me to read to you before you sleep?" she asked.

  "Aren't you tired? You must get enough sleep."

  "I'm not tired," she said. "Not yet."

  "Play a game of backgammon?"

  "Better yet. I'll beat you."

  He nodded, easing his monkey back onto its pillow.

  "I'll get the table, you the board. Best two out of three. Loser reads to the winner."

  "And brings the other tea in the morning!"

  He winked. "I believe you've a wager, madam."

  Chapter 23

  "Standing at the window will not bring him home," Kara said. She sat calmly at a small table before the hearth in her chamber, entering information into the household account book.

  Ian divided his time between pacing, talking gibberish to Harry's monkey and staring out the window.

  He moved away from the window. "I don't know how you sit so calmly. They should be home by now. Harry and the men should have returned."

  She lifted one shoulder. "They stopped for a draught of ale in
celebration of their victory."

  He looked at her, not cracking a smile.

  She laughed at his seriousness. "Ian, he will be all right. I doubt a sword was drawn. Alfred Gordon is a blatherskite and everyone knows it. All mouth and kilt but no stones to stand upon."

  Ian smiled broadly.

  "What?" She reached for the cup of watered wine they shared.

  "All mouth and kilt? No stones?" He chuckled. "The Countess Dunnane speaking in such common terms?"

  She made a face and returned to the column of figures at her fingertips. "I have been around you men too long. I fear my speech has become as common as yours."

  He chuckled. "In truth, it rather becomes you. I would think twice of drawing my sword in your presence."

  She shook her quill at him. "And well you should."

  He came up behind her and began to massage her shoulders. "We should have sent you to Alfred's while we men cowered here safely behind the walls of Dunnane."

  She smiled. "You flatter me only because you wish to have your way with me."

  He lifted her hair to kiss the back of her neck. "That was not my intention at all... but now that you mention it..."

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head forward, savoring the feel of his warm mouth on her neck. "Not here," she whispered. "Not now... in the light of day."

  He kissed the side of her neck, then the pulse of her throat. "Why not?" he whispered. "I have never seen you naked by the light of the sun. I try to imagine, but methinks my imagination does not do you justice."

  She felt her cheeks grow warm, but the warmth did not stop there. It radiated outward, pulsing through her limbs. She turned in her chair, lifting her arms to his shoulders.

  He knelt in front of her.

  "Ian, we shouldn't," she argued halfheartedly. "Isla might—"

  "She wouldn't dare enter without being given permission, not with me here. But to be certain, I'll lock the door."

  Her lips met his. A month ago—nae, a fortnight ago—she would never have dared do this. Not in broad daylight. But for some reason in the last few days she felt as if she were being hurled forward again, faster than she wanted to go. She had no idea what she was moving toward, but it frightened her. This game she and Ian and Harry played was dangerous and becoming more so with each day. That, with the unrest of the Gordon clan, made their lives seem volatile. Suddenly she was desperate for every moment of happiness she could secure.

  "Ian..."

  "Please," he begged, taking her hands in his to kiss her palms. "Let me touch you, see you."

  Kara already knew she was lost to him. She couldn't say no, not ever. But she still felt the need to protest. "I thought you were worried about Harry. Waiting for him."

  "What better way to pass the time?" His breath was hot, his voice husky in her ear.

  She brushed her lips against his again. "Fasten the doors," she whispered under her breath.

  He came to his feet in an instant and bolted the door to the hall, then the one that adjoined her room to Isla's.

  "Harry's, too."

  "There's no one there."

  She gave him one look and he did as she bid without further argument.

  Then she rose to meet him, her heart already beating faster, her pulse racing. "Straight to hell," she murmured as she looped her arms around his neck. "Ye know we are bound straight to hell for this."

  "As long as you go with me, hinny, I shall be content."

  He lowered his head to her bosom and she ran her fingers through his hair. She loved his hair, as dark as a crow's wing, as silky as the spun thread of a caterpillar's cocoon. It always smelled so clean, so rich with the scent of him that was his alone. At night, when he left her bed, she rested her head on the pillow where he had just lain so that she might still smell him.

  "If only we could change the past," he whispered. "If only I could make you my wife."

  "It can never be, Ian." She let her eyes drift shut. "I've let it go; so must you."

  He tugged at the ribbon that laced her woolen bodice. It fell open, revealing her breasts pressing against the thin cotton of her shift. He slid one broad hand beneath the round neckline.

  She sighed as his thumb found the nub of her nipple. His mouth met hers and he nipped at her lower lip. She swayed against him, her knees weak with the ripples of pleasure already washing over her.

  He slid her bodice over her shoulders, then the shift. Kara pulled her arms from the layers of clothing to stand naked to the waist before him.

  "You have the most beautiful breasts," he murmured, kissing one and then the other.

  "We shall see if you say the same in a few months," she teased.

  "Nae," He covered her peaked mounds with fleeting kisses. "In the years to come you will only become more beautiful in my eyes." He touched a taut nipple with the tip of his tongue and gasped softly.

  "You'll have to untie me," she said, turning slowly in his arms, presenting her back to him.

  He found the tie of her skirt and loosened it. She stepped out of the wool overskirt, then the underskirt, taking her time. His hands glanced over her bare shoulders, rubbing, kneading. Her undergarments fell in puddles at her feet. The air was cool in the room, but it only added to the pleasure of the feel of his warm hands on her bare skin.

  She kicked off her low-heeled slippers and closing her eyes, she turned on the balls of her feet to face him. Ian took a step back to watch her.

  She felt his gaze upon her as she took her time in removing the last of her clothing. She could hear his breathing as she slowly unveiled herself. She could feel his eyes burning on her flesh. She shivered, not with cold, but with pleasure at the thought of him watching her.

  "Kara," he breathed.

  Slowly she opened her eyes. He stood only a step from her, entranced. She lifted one foot and then the other, untying her stockings, rolling them off, stepping out of them. All the while, his gaze never left her.

  "This seems unfair," she said. "You still have all your clothing on."

  His husky voice caught in his throat. "We could remedy that matter easily enough."

  He began to remove his shirt, but she brushed his hands aside. "Nae, let me."

  She found the hem of his linen shirt, lifted it over his head and dropped it to the floor with her own clothing. Kara could not resist running her hands over the dark, crisp hair of his chest. She rested her cheek on his left breast to hear his heart beat for her. Then she took one male nipple between her teeth, licked, tugged.

  He groaned. "Where did you learn that?"

  "You." She stroked the width of his broad chest, running her hands down his sides over old scars. Finally her fingertips found the woolen edge of his kilt, just beneath his navel.

  He made a sound in his throat. She glanced up to see that his eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow. She drew her hand over the brown and green plaid woven by Dunnane's own weavers. He sucked in his breath.

  She smiled to herself, enjoying the weight of his manliness in the palm of her hand. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, breathing heavily.

  She slid her hand lower, over the hem, to his bare leg, then upward.

  "Witch, ye have me under your spell," he whispered in her ear.

  She took her time, cupping him in her palm, stroking. He was already hard, but grew harder with each caress. At first Kara had been timid about touching Ian, but now she enjoyed it as much as she knew he enjoyed touching her. She loved making him feel this way, and a part of her took a secret pleasure over the power she held over him in these moments.

  She stroked, fondled with one hand, then both. She kissed his bare chest, teasing his nipples.

  "Enough," he soon moaned. "Else there will be no loving for you this day."

  She threw back her head and laughed as he lifted her into his arms. She looped her arms around his neck and he carried her to the bed and set her gently upon it. He made quick work of the rest of his clothing and lay beside her on her bed. H
e took her mouth hungrily.

  "Let me look at you," he told her.

  She lay back on her pillow, luxuriating in his approval as his gaze swept over her.

  He drew his palm over her slightly rounded belly. Finally she was beginning to show her pregnancy, though it could not be noticed beneath her clothing.

  Ian rested his cheek on her swollen abdomen, caressing her lovingly. "I cannot believe you carry my child," he whispered. "I am in awe."

  She ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. "I don't know why men are so amazed by this feat. Women have been carrying babes in their wombs since the beginning of time."

  "You have not been carrying my babe since the beginning of time." He pressed a kiss to her navel.

  Kara sighed. She enjoyed quiet moments such as this with Ian, but right now it was not enough for her to just lie here. Her entire body was quivering with anticipation. She needed to touch and be touched.

  Kara stroked the hard muscles of his buttocks as he nestled his face between the valley of her breasts. Hot, tingling desire flowed through her as she rolled onto her side to face him, their bare limbs entangling. Instinctively she rocked her hips forward to meet his probing. He wanted to draw out their pleasure, but Kara wanted him now, at this moment, buried inside her. She threw her arms around his neck and parted her thighs, consumed by fire.

  "Kara, sweet Kara," he murmured, taking her with one stroke. "No matter what, I'll love ye till the end of time."

  * * *

  By the time Harry's hounds sounded the alarm, Ian and Kara were dressed again. Her hair had been brushed and returned to a presentable state. He had even gone downstairs to speak with the men before returning to Kara's chamber with a bit of meat and bread for them to share.

  The dogs could be heard in the courtyard three stories below. Ian ran to the window.

  "They're here?" Kara asked.

  He turned back for the door. "They're here."

  She stood frozen for a moment, afraid to move. "Harry, you spotted him? He's well?"

  "He's well." Ian held the door open for her. "Riding in the lead. I'm not certain because of the distance, but I believe he's grinning like a cat that just swallowed a bird."

  She smiled at him. "So perhaps our Harry is right. Our concern over his dear cousin is unfounded. A worm, not a snake in the grass."