The Wrong Bride

by Gayle Callen

  When she was standing, wearing only her chemise, she took the hem in her hands and met his suddenly narrowed eyes.

  “Riona—”

  She pulled it up and over her head, saw his indrawn breath as he took in her nudity by candlelight. He’d seen—or at least touched—her bare skin before, but there was something empowering about choosing to stand before him like this, unafraid.

  And then he pulled off his own shirt and pulled her to him. The press of his hot skin along hers was wondrous. She clutched his shoulders and arched her back to be even closer to him. The hair on his chest teased her nipples, but that was nothing next to the feel of his hands sliding down to cup her backside. He separated her legs to straddle him where he sat on the edge of the bed, then arched her back so that he could take one breast into his mouth. She cried out and held him against her, unable to stop moving against his hips.

  “Take me,” she whispered. “Hugh, please, don’t make me wait.”

  Her fingers fumbled between them for the buttons on his breeches. He reached to help her, and when his erection was free, she briefly took it in her hand as he’d shown her how to do. Her thighs were spread before him, and she moved forward as if to put him inside her.

  And then she found herself on her back, Hugh bracing his hands on either side of her head.

  He stared hard into her eyes, his breath coming fast. “Ye’re sure ye want to do this.”

  “We’re doing this,” she answered with no hesitation. “I just don’t know how best to—”

  “Lift your knees,” he said between clenched teeth.

  When she did, he settled between her thighs.

  “The first time—” he began.

  “—might hurt,” she finished. “I’ve been told. I don’t care. Do that part quickly.”

  She felt the hard smoothness of him slide along her wet opening, and then he was deep inside her, filling her, the pain brief and fading compared to the incredible sensation of fullness and heat and dawning passion.

  He kissed her then and she let her tongue invade his mouth as he was invading her body. For a long moment he didn’t move his hips, just kissed her and caressed her breasts until passion heated her skin. She needed more and she began to squirm beneath him to make it happen.

  And then he withdrew and slid deep inside her again, and she gasped.

  “Oh. Oh!”

  He laughed against her mouth, and they began the ancient dance of lovemaking, surging together and coming apart. Desire bubbled up ever higher, overcoming her, heating her, until all she could do was focus on the friction of their bodies, the wetness of his mouth on hers, the feel of his callused palm kneading her breast.

  The culmination swept over her in a flash of brilliant awareness, as pleasure seemed to infuse and sensitize all the way to her fingers and toes. He continued to thrust into her faster and faster, and her pleasure went on until it was almost too much. And then he groaned and found his own release, crushing her into the mattress, but oh, it was good to be beneath him, to accept all of him at last.

  “I love ye, Riona,” he said quietly against her cheek.

  And she burst into noisy tears.

  CHAPTER 21

  Hugh had never told a woman he loved her before, but he didn’t think abject sobbing was the right response. “Riona?”

  He propped himself up and tried to see her face, but she covered it with both hands and sobbed even harder.

  “You can’t love me,” she cried between her fingers.

  “Riona, talk to me.”

  He rose to his feet, and having totally forgotten about the rope around his ankles, not to mention his breeches, he almost fell over. But he had no time to deal with that. He sat down next to her, but she only curled into a ball away from him.

  “Riona, I cannot help if we don’t talk.”

  “Help?” She gave a harsh laugh that had nothing to do with amusement. “There is no help. I can’t love you, Hugh—we’re not supposed to be together. You’re my cousin’s b-betrothed and I just—just seduced you!”

  She shuddered and hugged herself, sobbing, while a terrible feeling of foreboding began in his chest and moved up to his brain. Why was she still saying this? She’d been happy—she’d helped his people, she’d helped him.

  She sat up, pulled the counterpane around her shoulders with trembling fingers, then raised her face to his. Tearstains caught the candle and gleamed; her swollen eyes were full of sorrow. His foreboding became dread.

  “I cannot have you,” she whispered with despair. “I want you; I wish I could stay here and be your wife, but any time now the truth will catch up to us. I—I keep waiting for my uncle to arrive with glee as he keeps the McCallum land, and all the dowry money, for himself.” Her head dropped and the sobs grew louder again.

  Hugh felt almost light-headed with the sudden certainty that she’d been telling the truth all along, and he hadn’t believed her. He wanted to pace, but the damned rope held him in place—the rope he’d used against her, to make her see that they belonged together. He felt like such a fool, and had no idea what to do first. Except untie the rope. He leaned down to do so.

  “Hugh, you have to believe me,” she pleaded. “But . . . no one needs to know what happened here. You can let me go. I won’t tell Cat. Some time will pass and I’ll convince her to come meet you. You’ll see, she’s w-wonderful.” She shuddered and cried some more. “And I’ve betrayed my cousin and slept with her betrothed.”

  Her last whisper was so agonized he felt as if she scratched him. He should touch her, but she was naked, and he’d seduced her—just like his father would have done. She’d been unwilling, and he’d relentlessly pursued her, even tied her into bed.

  Guilt and shame washed over him. He yanked up and buttoned his breeches, then poured himself a large goblet of the wine and swallowed it all.

  He’d thought he’d escaped the curse of his youth, the way he’d reacted to bad situations with recklessness. But when the betrothal hadn’t gone his way, he’d simply told himself he was doing the right thing, and was just as reckless, if not more so. He’d stolen an innocent woman, humiliated her, and taken her virginity, ruining her for any other man. She could be with child.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. The words were caught so high up in his throat, it was like he was choking. He found himself on his knees before her.

  “Riona.” Her name was harsh in his mouth. “My God, what I’ve done to ye.” He put his face on her bare knees. “I can’t even ask for forgiveness. I deserve none.”

  He felt her trembling hand on his head, gently soothing back his hair. Now she was comforting him! He was so disgusted with himself that he wanted to fling himself away from her sweet presence. But she’d think he blamed her, and he couldn’t do that.

  “Hugh, you were not doing this for selfish reasons,” she said at last. “You were acting on behalf of your people, when my uncle failed to follow through on his side of a good-faith bargain.”

  He sank back on his haunches to look up at her. “But if I’d have only believed ye, I could have returned ye immediately. But I was convinced that your father—your uncle—was trying to cheat me—”

  “And he was,” she said bitterly. “He was trying to ruin the contract and make it your fault. He planted me in that room to make sure you took the wrong woman. I—I don’t know what he’s said to Cat or my family about this. I’ve been gone over a month. My parents weren’t due to come home until at least October, so they won’t miss me. But Cat . . .” Her words trailed off, and her shoulders sagged.

  Cat. There was another Catriona Duff in the world, the one he was supposed to marry. Not only had he ruined Riona, he’d dishonored her cousin. He sat down on the floor with his back against the bed.

  Riona slipped down and sat beside him, the counterpane around her like a cloak. It covered her nudity, but it could not erase the images of her removing her clothes for him. She was being careful now not to touch him, but he didn’t need to to
uch her to feel the heat of her presence, the call of his passion for her that even now wouldn’t die.

  “Why did ye let me . . .” And he couldn’t finish the question.

  “Why did I make love to you?” she asked, her voice hollow. “Because . . . I was tired of resisting myself.”

  The last word was not what he’d imagined she’d say.

  “You thought I would be your wife,” she said sadly. “And then you grew to desire me just for myself. And I couldn’t resist. There was a part of me that pushed every doubt away. I just wanted to . . . feel, maybe to . . . pretend. I kept telling myself that before I left, I wanted you to know the peace of the truth about Brendan, and to begin to see your mother for the flawed woman she is, not the bearer of the guilt that should be your father’s alone. I thought I could make up for what this”—she waved a hand between them—“was going to cost you. But all it did was make me see what a good man you are, how far you’ve come on behalf of your people.”

  “A good man?” He practically choked on the words. “I have hurt ye in ways I cannot even express. And tonight, the ultimate in pain. I took what was yours to grant your husband.”

  She leaned against his arm. “And tonight, I wanted to pretend that husband was you. It was my choice, Hugh, my decision. Being here, with you and your people, taught me to stand up for what I wanted even if I make a mistake. Don’t blame yourself.”

  For endless minutes, they said nothing, just sat, barely touching each other, staring at the peat fire smoldering on the hearth.

  “What should we do now?” she asked wearily.

  He sighed. “Part of me thinks I should go after your uncle in revenge for what he allowed to happen to ye, for deliberately placing ye in the way of his enemy.”

  She stiffened. “Another war, Hugh? Because that’s what it would be.”

  But focusing on that would distract him from thinking about losing Riona, because that’s what had to happen. He’d spent weeks trying to make her fall in love with him and accept an arranged marriage, but—he was the one who’d fallen in love.

  “Revenge is what my father would go after,” he said at last. “I’ve already been proven enough like him tonight.”

  “Hugh—”

  “Nay, your kindness after everything I’ve inflicted upon ye is only making this worse. Just because I don’t think I should pursue revenge doesn’t mean we don’t deserve justice. Your uncle put ye into my hands, little caring what would happen to ye. I could have been a man like my father, for all your uncle knew or cared.”

  “All I ask is that we take our time before making a decision,” she insisted. “No one here knows about this but you and me. I am not ready to let you abandon this marriage contract.”

  He flinched. “Ye think I should inflict myself upon your cousin?”

  “I didn’t say that. I can’t even imagine it after how I’ve betrayed Cat.”

  He turned and took her by the shoulders, whispering fiercely, “This betrayal is my fault, Riona.” The counterpane sagged, and he glimpsed the top of her breast, and wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to desire her, but he still did. He always would. His traitorous body didn’t care that he’d harmed her.

  “You thought you were doing the right thing, Hugh. I knew better, and I still . . .”

  And again they were silent.

  “Riona, I need to give this serious thought. I don’t want ye harmed by people finding out that a mistake has been made.”

  “Hugh, it’s not about me but the clan—”

  “Nay, for me, it’s about you first. Promise me ye’ll speak of this to no one except me. I’m going to send Samuel to the Duff castle and see if there’s been word from your uncle.”

  She clutched his arm. “Won’t that be dangerous for him?”

  “Samuel thrives on danger,” he assured her, feeling his attempt at lightness fall flat. “I won’t make a decision until I ken what your uncle is up to. From what ye’ve said of your cousin, she won’t let your disappearance be forgotten.”

  They continued to sit silently side by side for a long time, until Riona shivered.

  “Into bed with ye,” Hugh said, rising to his feet and reaching to help her. He tucked her in.

  “Stay with me, please,” she whispered, looking up at him with wet eyes.

  He knew he shouldn’t, but the worst had already happened. So he lay down on top of the counterpane and drew her against him. It was a long time before she slept, and each little shiver of sadness in her breathing cut him anew.

  THREE days passed, and Riona couldn’t take the awkwardness anymore, and confronted Hugh in his solar before dinner. It was the first time they’d allowed themselves to be alone since that night. He hadn’t come to her bed, hadn’t spent an evening talking privately. She missed him with an ache that only grew each day.

  He stared at her as she shut the door. “Riona—”

  “I know, I know, I shouldn’t be here. But if Maggie asks me one more time what’s wrong, I will simply scream.”

  “She is persistent,” he said wryly.

  He leaned back in his leather chair and stretched, making her think of how his body looked beneath his shirt and plaid. She shivered and tried to put aside the desire that always seemed to linger just beneath the surface when she saw him . . . when she thought of him . . . maybe just all the time. “I thought I saw Samuel at the stables.”

  “Ye did. We just spoke. Come sit with me.”

  She dragged a chair near his desk, but was surprised when he took her hand and drew her to sit on his lap. She perched there uncertainly.

  “Just let me hold ye, lass.” His voice was a low rumble in her ear. “I dream about us each night.”

  She closed her eyes on a sigh. “Oh, Hugh . . .”

  She sank against his chest and huddled there, letting him caress her hair and back. He felt safe and warm—and still so forbidden. “Tell me about Samuel.”

  “Something unexpected has happened. Your uncle died of a fever several weeks ago and the news is only just now spreading through the Highlands.”

  She straightened in shock and the world suddenly seemed a different place. Her uncle had never shown anything but impatience with the women in his life, except for Cat. Perhaps her aunt would blossom now that she was no longer under his shadow. She met Hugh’s somber gaze. “What does this mean for us?”

  “Not much, I believe. The contract is binding regardless of your uncle’s death.”

  Nodding, she frowned. “My aunt will be grief-stricken, but probably for show more than anything.”

  “She has come to the Highlands with his body, along with the new earl and his sister.”

  Riona gasped. “Cat? And Owen?”

  He nodded. “I ken ye’ve missed your cousin.”

  “I have, but . . . she probably doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “We don’t know what Owen is aware of. But . . . have ye considered that soon word will spread that Owen’s sister is with him, and not here with me? Perhaps . . . they’ll think it’s Bronwyn? I’ve mentioned a sister to more than one person.”

  Her stomach gave a twist of apprehension. “Oh, Hugh,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He’d worked so hard to be a worthy chief to his people, and now they’d soon discover his dreadful mistake.

  “Stop saying that,” he ordered. “Ye’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’ve decided that we shall find a way to deal with this without revealing what we don’t want revealed.”

  “But if you just explain everything, tell the clan you were deceived by my uncle—”

  “And risk shaming you in public? Nay, I think I first need to meet with Owen.”

  A sudden pounding on the door startled them both. Riona jumped to her feet as if being caught on Hugh’s lap was the worst sin. Not compared to other things they’d done, she thought grimly.

  Hugh came around his desk and went toward the door, but it opened before he got there and several people crowded in: Dermot and Alasdair, Maggie and Lady
McCallum.

  Samuel came in last, then closed the door and stood in front of it, arms folded over his chest, looking more intimidating than Riona had ever seen him.

  Dermot led the charge. “We’ve heard news of the arrival of the new Earl of Aberfoyle—and his sister,” he added, glowering at Riona. “I’ve made it my business to learn everything about Clan Duff. The new earl only has one sister.”

  Though her fingers twisted together before her, she tried to portray a calmness she was far from feeling.

  “Aye, Samuel told me they’d arrived with their father’s body,” Hugh said.

  “But I didn’t tell anyone else,” Samuel explained calmly. “Other travelers arrived today with the news.”

  “What have ye done, Hugh?” Alasdair asked, exasperated. “Ye always did act before thinking.”

  Hugh’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and Riona could feel him keeping a rein on the worst of his temper.

  “My uncle deceived Hugh,” Riona said in a voice that only wavered a little in the face of the angry men and confused women.

  Hugh made a slashing motion with his hand. “What we discuss here goes no farther than this room, do ye understand? Dermot, have ye told anyone else how many sisters Owen has?”

  Dermot hesitated, then shook his head.

  “Then for now, Riona’s true identity is secret. I will make the decision about the information the clan will have.”

  “Fine,” Dermot said, then demanded, “Did ye ken she wasn’t your betrothed? Or did the witch go along with her family to deceive ye?”

  In two steps, Hugh had Dermot by the front of his coat and the room was in an uproar of raised voices. Lady McCallum gasped and covered her mouth, and Maggie looked like she wanted to jump between the men. Riona felt only despair that she was the cause of ruining Hugh’s relationships with his friends after he’d just mended them.