Highlander's Portrait

by C. A. Szarek

  “Oh, sweetie, you look gorgeous,” she whispered as she surveyed the beautiful, intricately beaded dress on Fiona’s perfect petite figure.

  The neckline was modest, but somehow fitting, and the pearled pattern over the bodice must’ve taken some poor seamstress forever. It had puffy sleeves and yards of fabric flowing to the floor with a pretty lacy overlay that would make Kate jealous.

  Eoin’s sister had insisted she be there when she dressed, and Ashlyn couldn’t refuse. She’d told them all she’d help however she could.

  “Thank ye.” The bride-to-be twirled, beaming, her dimple a beacon to her happiness.

  The large mirror sat at-the-ready, and Fiona faced it, studying her reflection. Her cheeks were bright, and her ebony locks had been braided up, with pink and white flowers woven in like a natural tiara.

  She was so lovely it was going to take Kenneth’s breath away.

  It was a good thing Ashlyn’s own attire was again green, but this time a darker hue. Her eyes might as well have been the same color, she was so jealous of her lover’s sister.

  She could taste the envy, it was so thick, and even though that made her feel guilty as hell, she couldn’t seem to shake it.

  Unfortunately, it ruined her ability to appreciate the pretty gown Maegan had found for her to wear, too. It wasn’t as fine as the bride’s, of course, but it had tiny little silver flowers sewn into the sheer long sleeves, and along the low neckline. Like Fiona’s green dress, it gave Ashlyn awesome cleavage, and the corseted bodice made her waist look tiny.

  Maybe Kate was on to something with the corset thing.

  Her bestie’s smile floated into her head, making Ashlyn sigh. She missed Kate, but had to admit since she’d started sleeping with Eoin, she’d rarely worried about what was going on in the future.

  Great, ‘cause yeah, I need more guilt.

  Kate would probably be frantic by now. It’d been over three weeks. Then again, did time pass the same here and there?

  Ashlyn frowned.

  “Somethin’ wrong, Ash?” Fiona asked.

  She jerked. Forced a smile. “No, of course not.” The girl had taken to using her nickname, too. She preferred when her brother said it, despite the similar charming brogue.

  “Do ye like my hair? How does it look? Peg and Maegan did it fer me.”

  “You’re flawless, honey. Kenneth is going to faint when he sees you.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “I hope he doesna.”

  “It’ll be perfect, kiddo. No worries.”

  She let out and audible breath and seemed to look at Ashlyn for the first time. “Ye look lovely, as well. My brother will love ye in tha’ gown.”

  Ashlyn’s heart skipped. Eoin and love…in the same sentence was too much to hope for. “Are you ready to go down?” she managed. Needed a distraction.

  The girl’s blue eyes darted around the room as if she expected to be ambushed at any moment. But they were alone. Nessie had stepped out when Ashlyn arrived.

  “May I ask ye somethin’?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  Fiona stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “I need ta know…” Her alabaster complexion flamed red to her ears and it dawned on her what the girl was trying to say.

  “Wedding night jitters?”

  She nodded. “I tried ta ask Nessie, but she wouldna tell me. Isna proper, she said. When I was a lassie, she wouldna even talk ta me abou’ my bleedin’ ‘til it started.”

  Of course she wouldn’t discuss it.

  Ashlyn fought her irritation at the well-meaning but ridiculous housekeeper. Womanly secrets shouldn’t be kept from other women. “Tell me what you…know.”

  She averted her gaze and shifted on her feet. “Kissin’ is…good.” Fiona’s cheeks lit up rosier. “Kenneth has touched me...down there. I’ve touched him, as well…”

  Her tummy fluttered. Why did she have to get stuck with the sex-ed lesson? Ashlyn sucked back a sigh.

  You adore this girl, that’s why.

  It was 1755, and as proven by Nessie’s refusal, this kind of thing just wasn’t discussed. Fiona deserved to be told what sex with her husband would be like.

  “Do you know the mechanics of sex…intercourse?”

  Their eyes met. “Aye. The man goes inta tha woman.”

  “Right. And you’ve never done that before?”

  Fiona shook her head.

  “Okay.” She blew out a breath. “The first time will…hurt. You may bleed afterward, but the more you do it, the better it’ll feel, and there won’t be pain. Only pleasure.”

  The girl’s eyes widened with her every word. “Kenneth willna hurt me.”

  “He won’t do it on purpose, sweetie. The first time for a woman…just hurts.”

  “Wha’ abou’ tha first time fer a lad?”

  “Kenneth’s a virgin?” Ashlyn didn’t mean to sound so surprised—and she did, even to her own ears—but when Fiona nodded, she liked the kid even more. “The good news is your first time won’t likely last too long, so hopefully it won’t hurt too much.” She groaned when Fiona asked what that meant.

  She kept firing questions, and Ashlyn did her best to be open and honest. Fiona knew babies resulted from, ‘lovin’,’ as she’d termed it, and the girl revealed she also knew what happened when a man orgasmed.

  Eoin would’ve killed Kenneth on the spot.

  She was open in what they’d done together, and had also had an orgasm, although she hadn’t known what it was called until Ashlyn told her.

  Even though it was all for educational purposes, talking about sex made her obsess over how Eoin touched and kissed her, how he moved inside her, and what it felt like when she climaxed. Desire teased below the surface of her skin and Ashlyn squeezed her thighs tight, glad her gown was full.

  She tried not to fidget, and reminded herself the conversation was about Fiona and Kenneth, not her and her laird. “Believe me, when you get the hang of it, sex is awesome, and you’ll learn to please each other without effort.”

  “I want tha’. I love him,” Fiona whispered, her expression soft and sweet.

  “I know, and that makes all the difference.”

  “‘Tis like tha’ fer ye an’ my brother, isna?”

  Ashlyn flushed to her toes and swallowed. It is for me. She couldn’t say it; even though she was confident her conversation with his sister was under a cone of silence. Plus, she didn’t really want to admit she and Eoin were lovers; they weren’t married.

  It was wrong in the majority of eighteenth century eyes, even though men could sleep around as much as they wanted. Women could not. Hypocrites. One of the many plights of being a woman in the past.

  “Ye love my brother.”

  Her head nodded of its own accord and she cursed. But when she finally had the guts to look at Fiona, the girl was beaming.

  “I knew it ta be true. He loves ye, too.” She darted forward and wrapped her arms around Ashlyn.

  She hugged her back, blinking tears away she didn’t want her to see. Ashlyn didn’t have the heart to contradict her, since Fiona had looked so happy about it. Nor could she acknowledge how her whole body lit up at the prospect.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Even if Ashlyn was lucky enough for Eoin to love her, the result would be the same as if he didn’t.

  Her heart, shattered into a million pieces the day he brought her home.

  ****

  His little pest was so gorgeous she glowed with it. Evidently she was so excited to exchange vows, Fiona couldn’t seem to be solemn in front of the Sassenach priest. She fairly bounced as she stood next to Kenneth MacDonald, her arm looped in the lad’s.

  Not proper at all, and yet it made Eoin want to grin, despite the subtle noises of disapproval Nessie was making from the second row of seats in the MacLeod chapel. The housekeeper would have to deal, as Ashlyn would say.

  His lover stood by his side, staring at the young couple with an unreadable expression.


  He’d expected her to smile, in the very least, but she was stoic.

  Was she upset about something? She’d pressed for this wedding, after all. Seeing his sister happy had made it all worth it, though.

  Eoin studied Ashlyn’s profile. His lover. His love, though he’d never called her such aloud. He really should.

  I love her.

  Emotion smacked him in the face and he shifted in his boots. He did love the lass from the future. Angus’ words haunted him and he pushed them away. Tried to focus on the now. Ashlyn at his side, with her slender hands on the back of the pew in front of her as she stood to witness the wedding.

  She was breathtaking in the dark green gown, and her breasts were displayed prominently enough that he wanted to growl at all his kinsmen—not to mention the MacDonalds present—if they dared to look at her.

  Her hair was loose today, falling in thick waves down her back, and he wanted to sweep the golden locks off her shoulders to lay a line of kisses along her neck. Perhaps taste the soft skin behind the shell of her ear, too.

  How was he going to survive hours upon hours of a wedding feast without covering her, or worse—having to keep his hands to himself?

  As laird, it wasn’t likely he’d be able to sneak to his rooms early with her. He had to be a proper host, especially since his guests were Clan MacDonald. He’d be stuck in the hall all evening. Watching Ashlyn and unable to have her.

  Eoin swallowed a gulp as his manhood twitched against the wool of his plaid. He needed to forget about making love to Ashlyn for now and concentrate on his sister exchanging vows with the lad she loved.

  He’d have his love all to himself later that night, when they retired—even if it’d be much later than he’d like.

  Kenneth took Fiona’s fingers in his as the Sassenach instructed, then the priest wrapped a strip of MacDonald plaid around their joined hands. Both lad and lass repeated the vows as instructed, grinning at each other as if they were alone in the room.

  His heart jumped, and Eoin imagined Ashlyn up on that dais, clad in his mother’s dress. Her hand would be in his and the plaid wrapped around them would be MacLeod hues, not MacDonald.

  With a silent curse, he shook the image away. He’d made her a vow. Wouldn’t break it.

  That morning, Angus had asked if Eoin had made a decision about accompanying her to the future.

  He hadn’t.

  Had he?

  Hadn’t talked to his lass about it, either, with all the wedding preparations of the last two days. Would she think he was mad? Or would she accept his love and agree they were fated?

  His heart wanted one thing, but practicalities still needed to be handled. He’d not named an heir, but it would have to be his cousin Jamie, and Angus would approve.

  Eoin had sat for the small painting yesterday.

  Sulwen MacInnes had completed it in hours due to the size. If the renowned artist had thought the requested dimensions were unusual, he hadn’t said. The image was now framed and mounted in his ledger room, next to a larger one of his father.

  He was ready, for the most part. Could he do it?

  Walk away from his clan? His century? For his Ashlyn?

  He loved her. Did that change anything?

  Aye.

  That changed everything.

  Clapping and joyful exclamations tugged him out of his head.

  The ceremony was over, and the Sassenach priest announced his little pest was now someone’s wife. Fiona MacDonald.

  He’d missed the salute, but that was probably for the best. He’d not want instinct to run his new brother through to ruin the day.

  Both newlyweds beamed, his sister’s dimple on display as they faced their families, and Eoin couldn’t help but feel proud that he and his grandfather had raised such a beauty. She’d never be demure, but she was gorgeous.

  They looked at each other, a fleeting thing that melted into a stare, and the lad pulled Fiona to his side. The move made Eoin’s gut ache, for more than one reason. He felt the same way about Ashlyn.

  His little sister looked all grown up on the lad’s arm, and Kenneth, too, looked older somehow than he had just days before in the solar where he’d begged for Fiona’s hand.

  Now he had it.

  Poor wretch.

  Eoin snorted.

  “What is it?” Ashlyn asked.

  He caught curiosity in her brown eyes and smirked. “Just occurred ta me, I didna warn tha lad what a handful my sister is.”

  His love grinned. “Oh well, they’re married now. No take-backs.”

  He’d never heard the odd phrasing before, but he understood her meaning. The expression on her face was lighter than it’d been during the ceremony, and it stole his breath. He couldn’t look away. Needed to touch her, too. “Are ye well, lass?”

  “Of course. This is Fiona’s day, and I’m so happy for her. Kenneth, too. They love each other.” Something lurked in those deep brown eyes, but it was gone so fast he told himself he might’ve been seeing things.

  Eoin caressed her cheek. “Well, my sister is a vision taday, no doub’, but so are ye.”

  Ashlyn’s cheeks brightened, but she didn’t look away.

  In the background, he was vaguely aware of the newlyweds leaving the chapel and both families starting to file out.

  He didn’t move. Stared at the lass who held his heart in her small hands. And she didn’t even know it. “Ashlyn—”

  “We should go,” she whispered. “Everyone’s gone…”

  Eoin tugged his eyes away from hers.

  They were indeed alone.

  How did that happen?

  Even the Sassenach priest was nowhere to be found.

  “The feast…”

  “‘Twill be there in moments.” He gathered her close and dipped his head down, giving her a chance to slip away.

  She didn’t.

  Ashlyn met his mouth with hers and slid her arms around his waist. She squeezed him almost too tight and nestled into his chest. He rubbed his tongue against hers as she slanted her lips under his.

  He plundered her mouth, deepening the kiss as much as he could. She was so sweet, like the honey her hair always reminded Eoin of.

  She tasted like that elsewhere, too.

  Shudders of desire wracked him, and he tried to talk himself out of getting lost in the lass in his arms, but it was impossible. He caressed her lower back, moving downward, kneading her perfect bottom.

  His cock was already hard, pitched into her stomach and he wanted to lift her to the back of the pew and push her gown around her hips so he could shove inside her.

  She rocked against him and pressed her breasts into his chest. Ashlyn kissed him again, her mouth as hungry as his, and her grip on him tightened.

  Eoin groaned when she nipped his bottom lip and tugged away, contradictory to her encouragement moments before. Her eyes were pools of midnight when their gazes locked, and she was panting, pushing her delectable breasts up in the square neckline. He hollered at himself to look at her face.

  She slipped from his arms, and it took all of his resolve to let her go. “We can’t…we’re in a chapel.” Her cheeks were crimson, and when her eyes darted around the small sanctuary, it told him the condition wasn’t only from arousal. “We can do this later.”

  He growled and took her mouth in a quick hard kiss that only tempted him. Foolish on his part. “Later isna now. ‘Tis too far away.”

  Ashlyn swallowed and he wanted to kiss her throat. “I know. But this is Fiona’s day.” She straightened her gown and brushed her hands down the front of the full skirts.

  “Are ye tryin’ ta make me feel guilty?”

  A smile played at the corner of her delicious mouth. She shook her head. “No, my laird. But your sister’s not going to be here tomorrow. You’ll miss her.”

  “Aye, I will.” Eoin nodded. He sucked in much needed air and bid his blood to cool. His cock wasn’t convinced. He needed a minute—or five—before he could go to the great h
all with his lass on his arm. He’d rather retire to his rooms and make her scream his name.

  Ashlyn reached to retie the lacing on neckline of his leine and kissed his lips, then his chin. Soft brushes of her mouth that made him need more.

  He chuckled and cupped her face. “Tha’ doesna help, lass.”

  “Help what? Your shirt was undone.”

  “An’ I thank ye fer tha’. Bu’ yer mouth on mine certainly doesna quench my desire ta take ye righ’ here.”

  Her pretty eyes widened. “In the chapel? Eoin MacLeod.”

  He laughed again and planted a small kiss on her mouth; couldn’t help it. “Let us go ta tha hall.” Eoin offered his arm to Ashlyn and she slid her hand in his elbow.

  “Will you dance with me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Angus made me promise him a dance, too.”

  “He’s tha only one,” he growled.

  She flashed a wicked grin. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’re jealous, my laird.”

  He grumbled, but gave into another chuckle when his Ashlyn laughed. Her whole countenance lit up and his heart skipped. Eoin loved her so damn much, and needed to tell her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She stood by the window, rubbing her arm as she looked outside into the empty bailey. Ashlyn’s eyes darted to the guarded gates of Dunvegan.

  Fiona had been right there by those gates hours that felt like days ago. After her wedding, her new husband and his family had taken the girl to her new home, the MacDonald stronghold Armadale, on the other side of Skye.

  She’d been so ecstatic. Had hugged her so hard, and told her to be happy with her brother.

  Too bad Ashlyn couldn’t.

  After the feast, Eoin had practically dragged her to his rooms. They’d been so eager for each other their clothing was still strewn all over the floor.

  He’d made love to her so tenderly, worshipping her body, and with so much emotion in those sapphire eyes, she’d expected words that had never come.

  That was for the better, or so she’d been trying to convince herself.

  Eoin had looked like he’d wanted to say something a few times, but hadn’t. Each time he’d kissed her instead, and she hadn’t had the guts to explore her suspicions.