Highland Master

by Howell, Hannah

  He almost rushed from the room to go and tell her now. A part of him was suddenly terrified that she would realize his omission and leave him standing at the altar. Brett stood where he was, his brooch clutched so tightly in his hand he knew it would leave a mark.

  “I didnae tell her,” he said, stunned by his own stupidity.

  “What?”

  “I didnae tell Triona that I loved her.”

  “And yet she still said she would marry ye?”

  “Aye.” Brett slowly began to relax, his sudden fear easing away. “Aye, she did. What I said was enough for her to ken that I am nay marrying her just because I dinnae see Brenda when I am with her or because I covet her land.”

  He could not believe he had babbled on and on and never once truly told her what she meant to him. Wanting, needing, missing. Look at me, I am now a laird and I do not see a ghost when we make love. Brett had to wonder why Triona had not just punched him in the mouth.

  “Might I suggest that ye make verra sure ye say it to her on your wedding night?” Harcourt frowned. “Ye do love her, aye?”

  “Och, aye. I am fair certain she loves me, too, although I begin to wonder why she would.”

  “I but pray she hasnae thought too long on what ye didnae say that she changes her mind about this.”

  So did Brett, because he suddenly knew he had not given her very much to cling to as she took her vows. Triona had so many skills and so much strength, he forgot all too often about that vulnerability he had seen in her too many times. There had not really been any man in her life who had shown any true feelings for her. In an odd way, that could be what saved him from the consequences of his own idiocy. Triona might believe she was getting so much more than she had before, she needed to say aye. He was going to enjoy letting her know the truth about his feelings for her, letting her know just what a treasure she was in his eyes.

  “He didnae tell me that he loves me, Joan,” Triona said as her friend and Nessa helped her dress for her wedding. “Mayhap I shouldnae do this until he does tell me.”

  “Dinnae e’en think about nay doing this,” said Joan. “Of course he loves ye. He was just being an idiot of a mon. They do often think they dinnae need to say the words, that a lass ought to ken how he feels from his actions or his loving. As if men dinnae show far too many lasses their skills at loving before they pick one to wed. Ye just make certain that your mon says it tonight.”

  “And just how am I to do that?”

  “Ye could always say it first,” said Nessa, and shrugged when Triona glared at her. “Just a wee passing thought. He might be needing the wee nudge, too, to unstick the words from his gullet.”

  “If he didnae say it, then why did ye say aye when he asked ye to be his wife?” asked Joan.

  “People of our ilk dinnae marry for love, so I didnae think on it,” Triona replied.

  “Love be why ye are wedding the fool now, and dinnae try to tell me otherwise.”

  “Aye, it is why I am about to marry him despite the lack of those words. He spoke of needing me, wanting me, and missing me sorely whilst he was away from me. I felt that was far more than I have e’er been offered before. And he went out and gained hold of Gormfeurach for me, so that he could actually present me with a dower.”

  “Why does his having Gormfeurach matter?”

  “He told me he wanted to be the one to offer me a dower when he asked for my hand, that I had had two men who showed they cared only for what I could give them, and he did not want to be a third.” She frowned when Nessa and Joan just stared at her. “Ye find that a poor reason to wed with the mon?”

  “Nay, I but think he is a wonderful mon and would almost take back the talk of his idiocy. He kenned what ye needed, lass,” Joan said, and Nessa nodded in agreement. “Ye might nay have seen it, but he did. This time, and especially with this mon, ye needed to ken for certain that he actually gains nothing at all when he marries ye. I think that says quite a lot about how he feels about ye. So let us hurry and get ye ready so that ye can go and make that mon all yours.”

  It was what she wanted, Triona told herself. All that she had dreamed of since he had ridden away was Brett returning to Banuilt and making her his wife. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. Even if she never heard him speak of love, he would give her so much more of a true marriage than Boyd ever had.

  Brett watched the women lead his wife to the small shaded knoll where he waited with Harcourt and the priest. It was the area where they had once thought to put a church, but had yet to find a new priest. The old church in the village was in too much disrepair to consider using it, and he had wanted the ceremony to be somewhere other than the great hall. The marriage was being done hastily, but he had seen no reason why something could not be done to make it a little festive.

  Triona deserved it, he told himself. The people of Banuilt deserved a celebration as well. He could tell from the fields and the condition of the cottages that a lot of work had been done and a good harvest would soon be brought in. This was a good reward for all of that hard work.

  Glancing around, he had to admire the efficiency of the women at Banuilt. They had arranged a spot for the priest to stand beneath a large rowan tree, spread a white cloth upon the ground for him and Triona to kneel on, and draped other bolts of cloth on the trees all around the knoll, adding a bit of a festive air. Flower petals were strewn along the path that led to where he waited for Triona, and a lot of little girls, clean and dressed in their finest, stood along the path holding flowers in their little hands. Everyone from Banuilt appeared to have gathered around, and even the sun graced them with a warm day. Brett was not sure he could have asked for anything better.

  He wished his family could be there but hastily pushed the wish aside. Harcourt was with him, and that was enough for now. Later he would try to think of some way to get his family to come to Banuilt, perhaps put on a celebration later for the family alone. His mother would be disappointed, especially since she had been pressing him to get married, but he knew she would love Triona and forgive him his hurry.

  When Triona reached his side, he took her by the hand and sent the priest a warning look. The man had been very unhappy about being dragged to Banuilt to perform this ceremony. He had said but one unkind thing about Triona before Brett had made it clear that he would be very wise to say nothing more save for the marriage rites. Why the man was still at Gormfeurach, he did not know, but he would make sure he was not there for much longer.

  The ceremony went on without any problem, although the priest was far from pleasant. With a surprising grace, Angus appeared beside them with the old church ledger for them to sign. Once done, Brett turned to the people gathered, grinned, and kissed his new wife. The cheers of the people of Banuilt rang through the clearing, and he did not think he had ever felt so at home since he had ceased living with his parents more years ago than he cared to count.

  Everyone went down into the village, where a feast awaited them, tables were set all along the road through the village so that everyone at Banuilt could join in the celebration. There were people there from Gormfeurach as well. Toasts came from anyone who was inclined to raise his tankard. Brett caught a glimpse of Ella with her cat draped over her shoulders, telling the MacFingals—Ned and Nathan—some tale that had them both laughing.

  “Ye are smiling so widely, Brett,” said Triona. “Have I missed something?”

  “Nay.” He leaned over to brush a kiss over her mouth. “I was just thinking that it is a glorious day.”

  “Aye, it is. It is indeed. Even Father Mure couldnae spoil it.”

  He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. It was going to be difficult to wait until the evening when he could finally be alone with her. Not only did his body ache for her, but Brett now knew that he would be able to tell her with ease how much she meant to him, and had every intention of doing so. Before the night was done, Triona would know just how deeply rooted in his heart she was, and he would be sur
e to have her say what was in her heart as well. They would start the first night of their marriage with no more doubts between them.

  Triona smiled at him, leaned into his side, and the lingering worry she had nursed faded away. He had not said the words, but if he did not exactly love her now, she began to be more certain that he would soon. It was there to see in how pleased he was with their marriage, even how he teased her as they ate and drank. There may not be love there yet, but her heart told her the seeds had already begun to take root.

  Triona tried not to be nervous as she waited in the bed for the arrival of her new husband. She was wearing a delicate, lace-trimmed shift that she hoped would look alluring. Her hair was brushed out and neatly draped over her shoulders. She was clean and nicely scented, all prepared and ready for her husband to come and claim her. Triona wondered why that was making her far more nervous than she had ever been when she and Brett had been lovers.

  She pondered what Nessa had said, that she should be the first to speak of love. It was probably what would be needed to try to get Brett to be more fulsome about his own feelings, but she wondered why men had to be so difficult. He was the one who had proposed, the one who had worked so long and hard to get what he thought was needed to offer her his hand in marriage. It was a bit odd that he would then lack the stamina to tell her what was in his heart. She could not completely still the little voice that whispered that he might not actually hold her in his heart.

  The door opened and he stumbled in, pushed by his laughing brother, the MacFingals, and Aiden. Triona stared, for he was wrapped only in his plaid. If there were not so many people wandering around the manor at the moment, she suspected they would have tossed him into her bedchamber naked.

  She had not forgotten how fine he looked, but seeing him in the flesh again was a lot different from seeing him in her dreams. Triona clenched her hands into tight fists as she fought the urge to leap up, run over to him, and stroke all that smooth skin stretched taut over muscle, the few battle scars he carried only adding to the manly beauty of him.

  Before she had a chance to weaken and give in to that need, Brett was there beside her bed. He wasted no time in shedding his plaid and climbing into bed with her. A heartbeat later he was tugging off her night shift. Triona gasped with pleasure when their skin touched for the first time in far too long.

  “I was going to love ye slowly, dearling,” Brett said as he crouched over her and looked his fill at her body, “but I dinnae have the strength for any patience just yet.”

  The way her body ached, Triona decided that she did not have any patience, either. She was starved for the pleasure he could give her, for the feel of his strong body joined with hers. Not surprised to see her hand tremble, she reached out and touched him, slowly running her hand down his back.

  “I am nay feeling all that patient, either.”

  Brett kissed her and knew the first time was going to be fast and a little rough. He had to keep a tight grip on his control just to try to ready her for his possession. Kissing her, smelling the sweet scent of her passion-heated body, and hearing her soft sighs of pleasure made clinging to that control an arduous task. The way she was stroking his skin everywhere she could reach him only made it harder. Slipping his hand between her slender thighs, he found her already weeping with welcome and nearly shouted out his relief. Taking her mouth in a hungry kiss, he joined their bodies with one greedy thrust.

  Triona wrapped herself around him and reveled in his greed for her. It was a glorious feeling to know she could drive the man to such heights of need. Then her own passion swept her under its waves and she let herself go with it, savoring the sound of him crying out her name as he spilled his seed deep inside of her.

  Once he got his breath back, Brett cleaned them both off and then rejoined her in their bed. Their bed, he thought, and smiled as he pulled her into his arms. There would be no need to slip back into his own bedchamber anymore. A little matter but an important change.

  “I willnae be staying at Gormfeurach,” he said, and silently cursed himself as a coward.

  Now would be the perfect time to tell her what was in his heart. They were momentarily sated, at peace, and newly wed. Instead, he opened his mouth and out came talk of his new lands. Brett wondered if he could get Harcourt to slap him a few times until his wits returned.

  “But ye are their laird now,” she said as she raised herself up to look down at him. “Shouldnae ye be there?” She knew she should have considered that they were both lairds with responsibilities to two different lands, and living together all the time could be very difficult to do.

  “Harcourt is going to do it. I will go there now and then to see what is being done and what needs doing, but my brother has been taking care of the place since Sir John died, and he likes it. I intended to find someone anyway, as I have nay intention of sleeping away from my wife, but this is perfect. My brother now has a place of his own in most ways, and I get to stay here with ye.”

  She moved so that she straddled his body, her hair covering her in a way that gave her an odd sense of modesty. “I think it the perfect solution. And the people of Gormfeurach are already accustomed to him acting as laird, so ye are nay even asking them to suffer yet another change.”

  Brett slid his hands up beneath her hair to stroke her breasts, and enjoyed the light flush of desire that colored her cheeks. “I wanted the place mostly for ye, Triona. I couldnae bear the thought that ye would be facing yet another mon who sought to gain from marrying ye. I needed ye to ken that I had all I needed and didnae depend on any of your coin nor require any of your land.”

  Triona brushed her lips over his. “It was nay something I was concerned about, but I thank ye for doing it. Once done, I realized I may have nurtured a concern or two, and that sort of thing can be a slow poison in a marriage. Now we are equals.”

  “It will be Murray land now, too.”

  “It was ne’er really Grant land anyway. Just as this isnae really McKee land. The name was here, but nay more than that.”

  She slid down until she covered his body with hers and began to kiss his strong throat. His murmur of appreciation encouraged her sudden boldness. Triona had imagined doing things to him in her dreams that they had not done when they were lovers. She now wished to try a few of them. Perhaps, if she could get him caught up in passion’s grip, she would find the courage to tell him she loved him. If she was very lucky, he would give her the words she craved.

  It was the possibility that she would say them and he would not return them that made her hesitate to speak. Triona knew that would hurt, and she feared it could create a distance between them that would be hard to overcome. She would not wish to nurse her hurt but suspected she would, her mind constantly preying on the matter.

  As she kissed his broad chest, he combed his fingers through her hair. Triona knew he was silently encouraging her to continue her seductive play. It gave her an odd sense of power to take the reins in their lovemaking. She just prayed he would not be unpleasantly shocked, because she was going to do something to him that Joan had told her Aiden loved.

  Brett closed his eyes and savored the feel of her warm mouth on his body. The silken glide of her hair over his skin only added to his pleasure. They still needed to talk, but he was not about to interrupt her attempt to seduce him. When her small hand stroked his erection, he was not sure how long he could enjoy the game, however. His hunger for her was still too hot and greedy to allow for too much play.

  The touch of her lips on his manhood had him opening his eyes so fast they stung. He bit back a cry, terrified she would think it was disapproval. Brett struggled for control as he lightly clenched his hands in her hair and tried to subtly hold her right where she was. Then she took him into her mouth and he could no longer be a silent, appreciative lover. He watched her love him with her mouth and whispered the occasional hint about what he would like her to do. To his astonishment, she did it. Teeth gritted as he fought for the control to enj
oy her loving, he finally had to stop her.

  “Now, love,” he said as he grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up his body. “Ride me. Ride your mon.”

  As he gave her some gentle assistance in mounting him, he was thrilled to find her wet with welcome. The sight of Triona astride him, her breasts bouncing as she rode him, was, he decided, the most beautiful sight he had seen. The moment he judged her close to finding her release, he pulled her into his arms and sat up. Then he kissed her as she quickly adjusted to the slight change in position and took them both over the edge. Brett was not surprised to hear himself yell out those three words he had been having so much difficulty saying aloud.

  Triona lay sprawled over Brett’s chest after they collapsed back onto the bed as one. She fought to regain her composure, easing their bodies apart as she did so. His words of love were still ringing in her ears, but she was not sure she ought to make any mention of what he had said. It had been wondrous to hear him say he loved her, so wondrous it had sent her tumbling into her release, but she feared talking about it would lead him to say something that would spoil it all for her.

  “Triona, do ye think ye might return my feelings?” Brett asked as he combed his fingers through her hair.

  She lifted her head slightly to peer at him through her hair. “So, we can talk about what ye bellowed then, can we?”

  He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “We dinnae have to discuss it like one would the possibility of a new bull or ram, but I was rather hoping that ye would have a response.”

  Triona lightly rubbed her nose against his and smiled, suddenly so full of joy she did not know why she was able to lie there quietly in his arms. “Aye, Sir Brett Murray, I love ye.” She laughed when he hugged her almost too tightly and then kissed her. “I have for a verra long time, even though I kept reminding myself that ye would be leaving as soon as my troubles were o’er.”