Highland Captive

by Hannah Howell

  Mine, he thought with a sense of pride and possession that nearly made him smile. It was not something he had ever felt toward a woman before. With Aimil, however, it was important that he tie her to him in any and every way he could. It troubled him deeply that she did not seem to feel the same way as was indicated by the way she was hesitating to repeat the vows that would finalize their marriage. Looking at her, he tried desperately, yet fruitlessly, to read in her expression the reason that she faltered.

  Although she parted her lips to begin repeating the vows that would make her legally Parlan’s, a sudden rush of doubt stilled her tongue. What lay ahead could be the answer to all her dreams or a long painful nightmare. She loved him beyond what was probably sensible, but there was no guarantee that he would ever return that love. To spend a lifetime caught in the painful hold of unrequited love seemed more than anyone should be forced to bear.

  Glancing at him, she felt common sense return. There really was no choice for her. If she humiliated him now by suddenly refusing to wed him, she would undoubtedly lose all chance of gaining his love. So too there was the child. He had a right to his child, as much right as she did, and she was certain that it was not a right he would relinquish. Even if she did not wed him, she would still be tied to him through the child. Far better to take her chances, she decided. Taking a deep breath, she repeated the vows that made her forever his, something her heart had done months ago.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Are ye happy, child?”

  Aimil looked up at her father and smiled. It gladdened her heart considerably to be on good terms with her father again, but she suffered from a touch of wariness, even disbelief. At any moment she expected to see him turn away from her as he had in the past. Knowing how that could hurt her, she found herself trying to keep a distance between them. She could only hope that with time and a lessening of her wariness her distrust would vanish. The last thing she wished to do was spoil the renewal of her relationship with him.

  “Aye, Papa. He is a good man.” She thought that sounded a little trite but could not think of anything else to say.

  “Of course, ye are happy. Your voice fairly trembles with joy.”

  Grimacing, Aimil admitted to herself that it had been foolish of her to think that she could divert him by mouthing platitudes. “I am happy. He is the man I want. Aye, there are a few pebbles in our path, but they can be cleared away.”

  “That is the way to think on it. Ye are the one he wanted too, lass.”

  “Aye, because of the bairn.”

  “Wheesht, fool lass. Do ye think a man like the Black Parlan would be made to wed a lass simply because his seed had set root in her? He would stand firm and tell me to do as I will, and weel ye ken it.”

  “But honor demands...”

  “Not when ye are but a captive. Aye, if ye were the daughter of some ally he had seduced but, nay, not for a captive.”

  She was still thinking on her father’s words when Giorsal and Maggie took her up to Parlan’s chambers. His words had made a greater impression upon her than nearly anything anyone else had said. Her father saw it as only another man could have and had succinctly explained that elusive concept to her. The more she looked at it the more she wondered why she had not seen it before. She began to suspect that she had purposely avoided any logic that might inspire hope, possibly a fruitless hope.

  Whether Parlan wanted the child or not, and she was sure he did, he would not tie himself to her for life because the child rested in her womb. In her case, honor only demanded that he give her back alive when the ransom was paid. If she happened to have lost her chastity while captive and her belly swelled with his child, most would shrug. They would see it as one of the costs of being caught, perhaps even as part of the ransom. Parlan really had done what he had wanted to.

  Still mulling that over, she somewhat absently said good-night to her sister, and it was a moment before she realized that Maggie was lingering. “Is there something wrong, Maggie?”

  “Nay, everything couldnae be finer.” Maggie smiled almost radiantly. “I have been trying to talk to ye since yester morn.” She blushed faintly. “I heeded all ye said about how to go on with Malcolm. Aye, heeded it and acted upon it.”

  “And it worked, aye? Weel, that is a foolish question for ‘tis clear to see that it did by your face.”

  “Aye, it worked though leaving the candles lit and keeping my eyes open caused my poor man a blush or twa.” She giggled along with Aimil. “I willnae have to do it again. I found I didnae really need to do it the first time for I never thought it was any but my Malcolm loving me. Howbeit, the lit candle took the fear from me so that I had the courage to try the first time.”

  “I am so glad for ye, Maggie.” She kissed the maid’s cheek. “Aye, and for Malcolm. He is a good man. When are ye to be wed then?”

  “The priest said he would wed us before he left Dubhglenn. I wished to thank ye, m’lady. Thank ye with all my heart.”

  “Thank me? Whatever for? T’was Malcolm’s doing.”

  “Aye, once I was set in his arms, but t’was ye that set me there, gave me the heart to try.”

  “Weel, I think ye would have found it on your own in time, but ye are verra welcome.”

  Maggie smiled then hurried toward the door. “I will leave ye be then. ‘Tis certain I am that your man will be here soon.”

  Aimil was certain of that, too. As soon as Maggie left, Aimil nervously went to check on her appearance in the mirror. It seemed far too long since Parlan had held her. She had sensed his growing hunger as they were healing from their wounds, but he had abstained from satisfying it, even to moving her to a separate room. He had clearly felt that now that they were to be wed, now that she was no longer his hostage, and now that her family came and went from Dubhglenn as they pleased, it was time to act with a little discretion.

  It was probably for the best, but she had not liked it much and not simply because, as she had healed, she had begun to feel as eager for a taste of the passion they shared as he seemed to be. Rory had scarred her with a fear she could not seem to shake. It haunted her dreams, bringing nightmares. Although Parlan had often appeared at her bedside to ease those fears when she had come awake shaking and cold, he had been absent enough for her to know how much she needed him there, needed to be able to reach out and touch him to assure herself that she was safe, that Rory was only a chimera in her mind. Although she cursed her weakness, she could not deny it and reluctantly accepted the fact that it would be awhile before she would be free of it, that time was needed for her body, mind, and heart to forget those hours of terror and pain.

  Slipping into bed, she propped up the pillows then leaned against them to wait for Parlan. Because they had been lovers for so long and she was carrying his child, there would be no bedding ceremony. She was not at all regretful, recalling how coarse and embarrassing it could get from her sisters’ weddings. All she had to do was wait for Parlan to arrive so that they could begin the arrangement that Rory’s attack had so brutally interrupted. Suddenly yawning, she hoped Parlan did not linger in the hall too long with ale and friends or he would find his new bride sound asleep.

  Parlan took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and entered his chambers. He did not understand why he felt so uncertain, even nervous. Aimil was not a woman new to his bed, nor a virgin bride that he had to move cautiously and tenderly around. Nevertheless, he could not dislodge the feeling that he was taking a very important first step.

  Catching her yawning, he had to smile, especially when she looked so guilty. “I can see I am eagerly awaited.”

  “Sorry. It has been a long day, and I do seem to weary more easily.” She watched him undress and idly mused that she might find it easier to feel confident about him if he was not such a handsome rogue. “’Tis the bairn I am told.”

  “Ye dinnae feel ill or unduly weak?” He briefly washed up, mostly out of habit for he had bathed before the wedding.

  “Nay,
nay. There is naught that feels wrong. I just tire with more ease than I have ever done. I need to rest more often but I ken weel that that is surely for the best.” Seeing that he was already aroused as he walked to the bed and slid in beside her, she murmured, “Mayhaps I should rest now.”

  Tugging her into his arms, he met her impish smile with a fraudulent scowl. “Ye shouldnae do that.”

  “Nay? Ye have something that might interest me enough to keep me awake?”

  Hastily removing her nightgown, he held her silken body close and sighed with pleasured relief over the return of something that had been gone too long, something he had missed far more than he could have imagined. “I think I may have a thing or twa to hold your interest for a wee while.” He cupped her shapely derriere in his hands and pressed her closer.

  Feeling a familiar, delightful warmth curl through her loins, she murmured her appreciation. “I think ye just might at that, m’lord.”

  When he kissed her, she slid her arms around his neck and reveled in it. This time he would not be cutting the kiss short, leaving them both wanting more. Even as she began to succumb to her hunger for him, she was a little unsettled by the strength of it. She was not sure it was good or even wise to want him so much. That worry was soon drowned in a flood of passion, however, as his hands began to move over her in a way that revealed his own hunger.

  After being so long deprived, they needed little to bring them to the point where the joining of their bodies was a necessity. Aimil was fleetingly surprised that he seemed as lacking in control as she was. She cried out with relief when he entered her and equaled his ferocity as he lifted them both to desire’s apex. As she began to slip down from the heights his lovemaking sent her to, she clung to him, unwilling to end the unity too soon. Sensing him staring at her, she opened her eyes and smiled lazily.

  “Weel, ye were right. That did hold my interest for a wee while.” She met his grin with her own.

  “Ye are an impertinent wretch.” He withdrew from her slightly. “I was a wee bit rough. Too long without a taste of the sweetness of ye. I havenae hurt ye, have I?” His hand covered her abdomen.

  “Nay. Think of all we did before I even kenned I was with child. The bairn still grows and thrives. Aye, think of all Rory did to me yet, as Old Meg says, he couldnae shake this fruit from the tree. Ye cannae hurt the bairn with a wee bit of lovemaking. I think ye see it as rougher than it truly is. I dinnae feel as if it t’was verra rough at all.” She smiled crookedly. “So ye neednae fear that the reason for this fine wedding has been banished.”

  “Ah, I kenned that something was gnawing at ye.” He gently brushed a few wisps of hair from her face.

  “There is naught gnawing at me as ye put it.” She did not exactly wish to get into a discussion about feelings.

  “Aye, there is and there has been. Ye hesitated before ye would say the vows.”

  “Weel, ‘tis a big step to be wedded. Ye cannae tell me ye had no pause, didnae hesitate a wee bit.”

  “I didnae.” He smiled when she frowned and watched him through narrowed eyes. “Nay, truly, I didnae. I have been thinking on wedding ye from the verra first time I held ye in this bed.”

  “Ye never said a word to me about it.” She felt a spasm of doubt, yet knew that Parlan was not a man to say something simply because he thought it might please her to hear it, to give her lies to ease a worry he only sensed she had.

  “Of course I said naught to ye. I was but pondering it. My pondering might have led me to decide I didnae want ye for a wife. Then I would have had to tell ye that. Much better to say naught until I was certain.”

  Although she was not sure she liked the idea that for all the time they had been together, he had been more or less testing her, she could easily understand why he had done such a thing. A marriage was forever, and the woman he chose would be the one to bear his children, his heirs. Such a weighty matter should be well thought on. Handfast marriages were little more than a test of the suitability and fruitfulness of a match. Nevertheless, she mused a little sourly, he had taken his sweet time in deciding whether she suited him. That did seem insulting.

  “Ye find that less than flattering, do ye? T’was never my intent to deliver any insult.”

  “I ken it. I can see the sense of being certain about such an important thing.”

  “Aye, but?”

  “I didnae say but.”

  “T’was there to hear in your voice, sweeting. But?” Although he had no intention of telling her anything he did not feel, he was determined to ease the uncertainties he knew she felt.

  “Oh, God’s toenails, did ye have to take so long in deciding?” She hoped her question reflected only hurt pride.

  He forcibly restrained a laugh, knowing that would only add to her injured pride, mild as it seemed. “I didnae take as long as ye might think, dearling. Nay, truly, I didnae.” Smiling at the doubt he could read in her expression, he lightly kissed her pouting mouth. “I was but slow in telling ye. I realized I best hurry and speak before I went to the Dunmores.”

  “And returned to find I was set to escape.” She realized that had undoubtedly added to that air of wounded pride she had felt in him that night.

  “Weel, set to drown, leastwise.”

  “It was a good plan. It just went a wee bit awry.”

  “Oh, aye, just a wee bit. Dinnae divert me.” He grinned when she shot him a look of mild annoyance. “That fine feast I set before ye the day Rory attacked had a purpose.”

  “Aye, seducing me. Ye accomplished that.”

  “Weel, I willnae deny that I had thought to have me some of that as weel. I had planned the moment to ask ye to wed me.”

  She felt sorely disappointed that that opportunity had been lost even though she knew it would not have given her the words of love she craved. “Oh, and that cursed Rory ruined it.”

  “Aye, but I did speak once ye were returned to Dubhglenn.”

  “True enough, but t’was in such a manner that I was left to think that t’was naught but the bairn that prompted ye.”

  “Come now, I did tell ye there was more to it than that.”

  “Aye, in a way, but—”she put her arms about his neck and kissed him—“but kenning that ye had planned to ask me to be your wife before either of us kenned that there was a bairn soothes the sting even more. I didnae want to become a bride because ye felt a duty to wed me or because honor demanded it. Aye, or because your seed decided to take root in me.” She smiled faintly. “I didnae want ye to do something ye didnae truly wish to do for I kenned the trouble that could bring.”

  “I am not a man to do what he doesnae really wish to, m’eudail.”

  “Aye, so Papa said.”

  “Did he now?”

  “Aye, and the way he said it eased some of my worries though ‘tis a greater comfort to hear ye say it.”

  “Ah, lass, I cannae deny that I sorely want the bairn, but ‘tis a feeling stirred in most part because ‘tis ye that helped create him. I want the bairn because he is part of ye.”

  “Lass, I hold a score and eight years. For more than half of those I have kenned the pleasures of the flesh. Aye, I have had more women than I should have. ‘Tisnae a boast for I ken that ‘tis naught to be verra proud of, but ‘tis a fact. Not once, with any of them, did I think of children. Aye, my only thought was, ‘Ware, lad, ye dinnae wish your seed to root here.’ I have been as careful as a man can be and near as any man can be sure, I ken that I have no bastards.”

  “Now, with ye, I never once gave a thought to being wary, not since the first moment we made love. I didnae see the need of it, didnae want to take care. It didnae worry me when I kenned there was a chance ye could get with child. In truth, the few times I gave it any thought I felt naught but pleasure. T’was a pleasing thought.”

  “Aye, I want this bairn, but it didnae force me to wed ye. Nay, it but gave me the means to set ye before a priest even if ye didnae feel like being set there. If anyone was forced to wed, t
’was ye, Aimil, never me. Ye were the one who was given no choice nor chance.”

  She was touched by his words. It was not what she ached to hear, but it did ease some of the sting she had felt over the way the marriage had been arranged. So too did it ease some of her fears. Since he had really wanted to wed her, there was a very good chance that he was nearly as willing and as ready as she was to make the marriage a good one, firm and happy.

  “Ye cannae truly say I was forced. Aye, ye and my father decided it, but ye didnae hear me put up too much of a wail.”

  “Nay, true enough. Why didnae ye, Aimil?”

  The very last thing she wanted to tell him was exactly why she had gone along with his and her father’s dictates with little protest. “’Cause I didnae really have any complaint. I have been happy here. Ye ken it. I was never too happy with the idea of leaving and not just because Rory awaited me for I didnae ken what Rory was. I wanted to stay. Now I can.”

  He felt somewhat disappointed yet could not really say why. Love was what he sought from her yet he knew that it was unfair to demand it of her when he was not willing to give it, at least not yet. He told himself he was being contrary as he held her close. She had admitted to being happy at Dubhglenn and happy to stay. That should be enough. It was something that even being deeply in love did not necessarily promise.

  His hand returned to rest upon her slightly-swollen stomach. It was still a little difficult to believe that he would soon be a father. He also found the waiting trying. He wanted to know if he would have a son or a daughter. He wanted to know if the child would be fair like Aimil or dark as he was. He wanted to hold his child, a feeling that intensified a great deal when he felt the flutter of movement within.

  “T’will be verra difficult to wait.”