Belonging to a Highlander

by K. M. Patterson

  Catriona smiled and reached over to take Hugh's hand, which he hardly noticed as lost in thought as he was. It made her happy to know that her joy was important to him.

  Hugh had kept to his word and escorted her on a brief walk in the courtyard before the sun set, yet had hardly said two words the entire time. She'd had to crane her neck at an uncomfortable angle to see past the tall shoulders of warriors surrounding her if she wanted any sort of view, but the fresh air and fading sun had been enough to turn her spirits. She had even avoided trying to sneak a look toward her garden, knowing what that sight would do to her. She believed Hugh and his promises to restore the place.

  His meeting in the forest with his men who awaited more scouts to return for their fallen had turned up nothing but news that there would be nothing left to collect before long if they didn’t stop the scavengers of the forest.

  Catriona blankly continued on, ready to retire before her husband. At last she gave up and left the table, dropping an unnoticed kiss to his temple on her way around him. Mayhap he would follow, she hoped. Mayhap she could get his mind off his vexing that was getting them nowhere. Solace was what their budding relationship needed, not these threats plaguing them.

  Catriona left the hall behind. At the entrance to the passage to the bedchambers she cast one look behind to see Hugh still at the table and Alaric joining him. She sighed and continued on. He obviously would not be coming to her any time soon.

  She turned down the corridor to her chamber and stopped short, her feet suddenly rooted to the floor. The last few steps leading to her chamber loomed ahead in absolute darkness before the turn at the end of the passageway.

  Where were the torches? Why hadn't someone lit them?

  "Hello?" she called lightly.

  She reached out to touch the cool stone wall as she leaned around, the cold stinging her fingertips. Catriona jerked back, her heart picking up rhythm.

  "Is someone there?" she called out.

  No one answered.

  Not one sound came from the corridor. Only the muted sounds from below met her ears.

  Then the thought that this could very well be another threat on her life started her feet running in the opposite direction. Catriona picked up her skirts and rushed back the way she had come.

  The torches were always lit.

  Reason tried to work on her. It could be that someone had forgotten their duty in lighting them, or a gust from shutters left open above had blown out the flames.

  She wouldn’t be taking a chance on reason, though. Not with what happened at the loch still being so recent.

  She would fetch Alaric, or someone. One of Jamie's men. It didn’t matter who.

  Catriona was almost back to the end of the passage leading out into the hall when she turned the corner right into Gillie. They both bounced back with the sudden impact.

  He reached out to steady her first.

  "What's wrong, Cat?" he asked with concern knitting his brow, his icy blue eyes bright with fear. He glanced sharply over her shoulder, to the dark recesses of the passageway behind her.

  It struck her then, that she must look a bundle of nerves, and probably for a silly reason.

  Catriona took a step back and smoothed at her dress, trying to regain some composure.

  "The torches have no been lit on the way to my chambers, and I was going to fetch someone to light them for me." The rapid rise and fall to her chest began to recede.

  Gillie smiled disarmingly. "Come, let me aid you." He turned at the waist, taking one of the torches from the wall there, and with his other hand gently gripped her elbow to steer her back toward the corridor leading up to her quarters. "I'm sure someone forgot, 'tis all."

  Catriona forced a smile. "As am I."

  They reached the darkened passage quickly, and Gillie stepped ahead. "Stay put a moment, cousin," he said, leaving her in the glow of another torch and went to light the rest.

  A wash of relief flooded Catriona when light spilled out of the darkened passage, one torch at a time lighting the way. She took small steps as the light ahead grew brighter.

  Gillie stepped around the corner with a smile. "There now, see. All done. I checked your chamber. 'Tis weel and brightly lit." He hooked his thumbs in his wide belt, too wide for such a skinny frame, and twisted his lips at her in a haughty way.

  Catriona thumped him in the chest with a fist. "Try to no look so smug." She leaned in and gave him a hug. "What would I do withoot you?" Catriona asked, then reached up on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. "Good night." She stepped around him for her chamber door.

  "I could never figure oot what bothered you so aboot the dark. The fire—" Gillie reached up and adjusted a torch before he dropped his gaze to Catriona when she turned to face him. "I get your fear of fire." He shrugged and examined the torch again. "With what happened to your mother and all. You can'na abide the dark, but you abhor the firelight." He made a face of puzzlement and returned his eyes to Catriona's. "What gives you comfort, Cat?"

  Catriona swallowed the small lump that had risen in her throat at the mention of her mother. "Sunlight," she answered, simply.

  Gillie nodded. "Sleep weel, then. Await the sun's rise." He tapped the wall. "I'll check these later, make sure they do'na go oot again." He paused. "Or that they do'na get knocked to the floor and start a blaze. 'Twould burn the whole keep to the ground."

  Catriona stiffened. "Why would such a thing happen?"

  The look he gave her, so uncharacteristically Gillie, shocked her for a brief flash of a moment. The look was gone almost before she registered its presence.

  "You never ken when someone might be careless," he said. He offered a slight nod, a disarming smile, and turned on his heel to whistle his way back into the hall.

  Catriona turned for her chamber and shut herself in. She didn’t go to sleep though. Thoughts of her marriage, Hugh's worry, the threats against her, and Tamsin's absence kept her up. She stared into the brazier as she fingered the ends of her hair.

  Gillie's words came back to her on a wave of confusion. He had seemed so strange. To her recollection, he had never mentioned what had happened to her mother, never questioned her fears, though he had been her confidant through her childhood and she had told him all those things before.

  The tips of her fingers found the scar on the underside of her wrist, and she absently traced the raised outline.

  She was so lost in thought, she did not hear her chamber door open.

  "Catriona."

  Hugh's voice startled her, and she turned to him.

  He frowned at her. "Is everything all right?"

  She paused and stared at Hugh as he closed the door and then the gap separating them. He was so close now she had to lift her head to keep their stare locked. She started to lie as to not worry him even more, but decided against it.

  "Nothing is," she answered, then stifled a shaky breath. "Have I ever mentioned how my mother perished?" She shook her head and looked down to her wrist before dropping her hand and placing her arms behind her back, out of view. "Never mind, I ken I no have. I mentioned the incident to Bess recently."

  Hugh crossed to the chair near the brazier and dropped into the seat, lifting his arms to her, and she came to sit on his lap, leaning back into his chest. She let him hold her like that, relishing his warm strength, discontent with the idea of relinquishing his touch now that she had it again after so long.

  "Before I reached my seventh year, my mother and I lived in a cottage on my father's lands. He had tried to convince my mother to come live with him in the keep, but his lady wife had only recently passed and my mother refused to suffer either of us to any more scorn from the clan." She went on to tell him of the night of the fire, that her father had pulled her out of the blaze first, that her mother had perished.

  She told him all her fears, of the scar she bore from the incident, but when she came to what had happened tonight—about the torches and Gillie's cryptic words—she stopped short.<
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  Hugh didn’t need any more reason to be fearful for her or to shorten the leash on her freedom even one more notch. She was silly to think unlit torches meant anything anyway. Very few people knew her fear of fire.

  Catriona reached up to cup his jaw in her palm. She planted a sweet kiss to his lips. "Nothing is all right for me," she said on a whisper-soft voice.

  "It shall be, lass. Give time a chance to right these things."

  "Time is exactly what we do'na have." Her fingers roamed up, to touch his hair, fingering a dark lock before her fingertips fell to his shoulder.

  Hugh took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, then gave them a squeeze as he offered a reassuring smile. "I've sent more men in search of Tamsin. She shall be found, but until that day comes, you must retain your faith that she is alive and weel. Neither Alaric nor I can imagine why McAlison would wish her harm. She is too much a boon to him alive."

  Catriona's shoulders fell. Though his words were reassuring, Tamsin was not what bothered her tonight. "What of us? We were at odds for days. Where are we in all this now?"

  Hugh reached and tilted her chin up so she met his stare. "We are right here in this moment. We are newly married, neither of us ready for the challenge marriage is, but we each chose a path and somehow those paths collided. I believe we are exactly where we are meant to be." He gathered her hand in his, encasing her fingers in strength and warmth, bringing them to rest over his heart. "I would'na have wedded you if I did no want to. You are my wife, no some woman who shares my bed from time to time." He cast a scathing look across the bedchamber to her bed and then back to her. As though to say she was doing exactly that at present and he liked it not at all. His eyes searched hers. "The others before you were and are meaningless, I hope you ken that. You are different to me."

  Catriona couldn’t help the spreading smile, and she leaned forward to wrap her arms around Hugh's neck. She wanted to love him, she wanted to tell him so, but the words would not roll off her tongue, were not so ready on her lips.

  "Aye, we shall get through this. Together," she said. Catriona kissed him slowly, hesitantly at first, but his nearness alone awakened something frighteningly strong within her. "Kiss me, Hugh. I want you to taste me. I like being oot of your bed as little as you do."

  He growled against her mouth. Then his ardent desire for her broke free and he ravished her lips, thrust his tongue into her mouth, devoured her. She gave into her hunger for him, too.

  When she thought he had all but kissed the breath from her lungs, Catriona pulled back, panting hard. "When can we do that again, highlander?" She slanted a glance at her bed between half lowered lids, glad the barriers were down between them once again and loving was a possibility.

  Hugh looked thoughtful a moment, then chuckled darkly and clucked his tongue. "Oh, surely no today."

  "Why?" she asked with dismay. "The wound on your side?"

  "Nay. 'Tis a Wednesday," he mocked teasingly. Hugh stood quickly, lifting her against his body, his arms wrapped under her backside so that her breasts came flush with his face when he lifted her, forcing her to throw her arms around his neck.

  Hugh kissed her hair. "You have been gone from my bed far longer than I care for. For all your complaining aboot me deserting the marriage bed, when I did'na, you have been oot of it yourself. We shall rectify that this night, now that our injuries are no in the way." He turned with her in his arms and kissed her as he crossed the chamber.

  Hugh carried her into his bedchamber, shut the door with his foot, and took his wife to his bed where she belonged. In his arms, in his keeping, in the safe circle of his embrace.

  Catriona was relieved at his insistence she share his chamber, regardless of her fears. He crushed her against his body as he carried her to the bed, dropping on top of her, her back hitting the mattress softly.

  She kissed him for all she was worth as he nestled her on his large bed, but the warmth of his body faded away as he took a step back to look down on her in a loving gaze filled with unsated desires and denied passion. His look was almost too hot and consuming to behold.

  Hugh chuckled, and then in one fluid motion jerked his tunic over his head. He crawled over her and dragged her back into his embrace. A husky chuckle left Catriona's lips at her husband's obvious delight to make love to her again, as though she had denied him for some tedious overlong period.

  She chuckled, for it had been but a matter of days.

  The touch of his lips to hers was so soft the kiss was almost like a feather, a bare touch to tickle her senses, to make her lips tingle with wanting. Hugh knew exactly what he was doing. His lips were hot against hers, soft and dry, moving delicately, creating a devouring need.

  He left a trail of kisses from her lips to her cheek, to her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts and back up.

  A consuming want rose in her, strong and determined. The hunger she had for Hugh welled so, making her restless, and an erratic feeling soared to clash with her desires. As though, if she did not have Hugh this very moment, she might explode. She wanted to feel him against her again, to feel his lips crush against hers. She wanted him deep inside her.

  Before Catriona knew what she was doing, she reached up and pulled Hugh's head to hers and kissed him. Allowing primitive urges to take control, she took his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged as he had hers before, urging him to open his mouth to her.

  Lord, but his mouth tasted sweet, like honeyed ale. She pulled his lip between hers, sucking until Hugh growled at her and took over her mouth.

  Her tongue darted at his, and his lips moved with hers, creating beautifully exquisite feelings. He was slow and sensual in returning her kiss, masterfully igniting a flame and fanning the heat building between them.

  "Dia, woman." He rose over her, gathering her in his arms once again, kissing her thoroughly. His mouth moved down over her neck, to the soft mounds of her breasts rising above her gown, the stubble on his jaw causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms and a sound to escape her throat.

  Catriona giggled at the sensation, gasping as his teeth pinching at her throat caused her nipples to go hard. Her body bucked, and her breasts thrust into the air. She felt his hand go to the top of her gown, cupping a plump mound in a needful squeeze. Trembling fingers worked to roughly pull her gown below her breasts. One sharp yank and a rip of material caused her to gasp, but the ripped gown was a bare memory a moment later as he caused another giggle.

  Hugh briefly lifted his head, his eyes gone dark and heavy. "'Tis nothing here to giggle aboot, lass. You aught no tempt a mon so, for remember, I only promised to be gentle the first time."

  Hugh's hand came to one peak, his fingers grazing the aching bud, and Catriona cried out. Warm lips closed over the tip of her breast, and she squirmed between the bed and her husband's body. One large thigh slipped between her splayed legs, his fingers briefly, teasingly, finding her heat.

  He buried his head in her neck, purposefully tickling her delicate skin with his unshaven jaw until she indeed laughed, but Hugh then turned to her ear and nibbled until she squirmed under him. Catriona gasped at the new sensation, her hands tracing over his shoulders first, her nails scraping his skin, and then she clawed at the bedding.

  With his thumb, he made small, inciting circles through her clothing around the petals of her sex. He was slow and precise about each tantalizing caress, making her squirm all the more. He made her whimper with need as he brought her all the way to the point of breaking, then stopped.

  She tossed her head against the mattress and sought any purchase to hold on to as she came apart inside.

  "Hugh," she said urgently.

  "No yet, lass." He rose to his knees over her legs and ran his hands over her gown to hike up the bottom until he completely exposed her.

  Catriona watched with breathless amazement the shattered look consuming Hugh when he looked on her. His eyes, already heavy with lust, filled with feverish warmth she could swear she felt the heat
from.

  She ached for him like never before, a pulsing throb turned torturous as he continued to gaze at her without touching her again.

  She was about to plead with him when at last his fingertips came to her skin and he reverently touched her thighs, pushed them apart, and then he shuttered again. The scorching head of his shaft grazed her thigh and caused her to flinch, causing a sharp intake of breath. Catriona arched her neck back at the sensation. She was ready for him, aching for him.

  "Now, Hugh," she pleaded.

  A curse left his lips as he came back up her body, one of his thighs resting between hers. He touched her then, and Catriona nearly came off the bed with the shock of his warm finger entering her moist sheath. Her neck arched again, her head bent back.

  Hugh sank his fingers into her hair and pulled her into him as he continued to stroke her, kissing her with the same tempo until she could no longer restrain herself. With one hand she held on to Hugh, and with the other she gripped at the bedding. A thousand shattering waves rolled over her. Her body rocked against his hand, and her mouth locked with his. He swallowed her desperate cries of ecstasy.

  When she thought she had fallen into a chasm of ceaseless delectation, Hugh left her body completely and quickly divested himself of his trews. He returned to her and moved between her legs to position himself. With one push he was inside her, the silken warmth of her body spreading over the head of his shaft, stretching to accommodate his girth.

  Catriona cried out again as sheer pleasure hit her, bursting and shattering. She wrapped her legs around his body and hung on to him, let wild abandon take over. Her hips surged up to meet his.

  "Lass, what you do to me," Hugh breathed against her neck. "I can'na get enough of you.

  He plunged deep, slammed into her, exciting a bottomless hunger in her blood. Her need for him was not sated yet. Never would be, she instinctively knew.