by Gwyn Brodie
The maid beamed. "Ye're welcome, m'lady. I'll take m' leave now and let Lady MacLachlan ken ye're finished dressing."
Sorcha couldn't wait for Galen to see her. She'd never felt so pretty.
There came a knock at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Jillian."
"Just a moment."
Sorcha got to her feet and smoothed her skirts. "Come," she said, anxious to see Jillian's reaction.
Jillian opened the door and stepped inside. "Ahh! Sorcha, you look beautiful. Your hair goes well with that shade of blue. I can't wait to see Galen's face when you enter the kirk."
Sorcha laughed. "Neither can I." She hoped he'd think her beautiful as well.
"I've come to fetch you. 'Tis time for the ceremony to begin. Do you remember your vows? I hope Galen can remember his."
"Aye, I do. They're such lovely words."
"I didn't tell you earlier, but they are the same vows Kade and I spoke when we wed. They were also spoken by my father and mother."
"Jillian, I'm honored. You've showed me such kindness. When the time comes for me to leave Ravenskull, I'll miss you terribly."
Jillian hugged her. "We will see one another. I'll make certain of it. Come, you don't wish to be late for your own wedding."
As they walked to the church, Sorcha trembled with anticipation. In just a short while, she'd become Lady Sorcha MacKinnon, and this night she would give herself fully to Galen. What will it be like to be bedded by him? She wondered, remembering the strange and wonderful sensations his touch had sent through her in the solar.
She was pleasantly surprised to find the small kirk beautifully decorated with bluebells, daisies, foxgloves and many other wildflowers. There were roses picked from Ravenskull's garden and the air teemed with their sweet fragrance.
Alex stood alongside the aisle and smiled, as Sorcha walked past him. It pleased her that he was happy for her.
Galen, dressed in one of Kade's best linen shirts and his own belted plaid, was waiting at the altar with Father McTavish. Their gazes met and a sensuous light passed between them. Her throat tightened with emotion. His love for her was clear in his compelling eyes and it drew her to him like an invisible string.
As Father McTavish spoke, Galen glanced at Sorcha. When she walked into the kirk her beauty had near taken his breath away. She'd reminded him of a fae princess. Her long locks covered her shoulders like a fiery mantle, and her green eyes beckoned him as fire does the moth. Aye, 'twas true. The lass had woven a spell over him he never wanted to end.
"Galen MacKinnon, speak your vow," Father McTavish said, looking most solemn.
Praying he'd not forget any of the words, Galen took Sorcha's hand in his, and gazed into her eyes.
"I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine.
From this day forward it shall be only your name I cry out in the night
and into your eyes that I smile each morning;
I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine,
and I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next."
Father McTavish turned to Sorcha. "Lady Sorcha MacPherson, now your vow."
Tears shimmered in her lovely eyes as she spoke.
"You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone.
I give you my body, that we two might be one.
I give you my spirit, `til our life shall be done."
"Before God and man, I pronounce you man and wife."
A loud cheer echoed through the kirk, followed by whistles and a few bawdy suggestions, which Father McTavish quickly squelched.
Galen nodded to Kade, who hurried out into the kirkyard.
Kade cleared his throat. "Let us celebrate this blessed union with a round of Ravenskull's finest ale." Servants began to fill the guest's cups as quickly as they were handed out.
Galen caught Sorcha's hand, then making certain none of the noisy well-wishers were paying attention, he helped her through the window near the altar, then the short distance to the ground, and immediately followed.
"The bride and groom have escaped us. Hurry, let's go after them," someone shouted.
Uttering a curse, Galen swung Sorcha into his arms and broke into a run. "We must reach the castle before they do, or else we'll be consummating our marriage with onlookers."
Holding on tight, Sorcha peered over Galen's shoulder, then gasped. "There's a group of people close behind," she said, her voice edged with panic.
He growled. He'd waited a long time to have Sorcha. There was no way in hell he intended to share their wedding night with anyone. Galen carried her around the side of the castle to the servant's entrance, then set her on her feet. He grabbed her hand and they dashed up the back stairs. When they reached the upper floor, he could hear the crowd as they poured into the great hall. Many had come there only for the wedding feast, whilst others were bent on finding the newlywed couple.
Just a few yards more, and they'd be safely locked inside Sorcha's bedchamber. Saints above! He could see heads nodding their way up the stairs.
"They're going to catch us," she shrieked.
"Nay, not if I can help it."
"There they be," came a shout, then the sound of feet chasing after them.
He didn't dare look back. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the door ahead. When he finally reached it, he threw it open and drew Sorcha inside. He slammed it shut and slid the bolt home. Just in time too. After a few moments, the pounding of fists and the bawdy suggestions ceased, then the lot of them broke into laughter and went away, more than likely to join the massive feast in the great hall below.
Galen leaned against the door and blew out a long breath. "We made it, lass." He moved to where Sorcha stood, holding onto the bedpost, trying to catch her breath. Her green eyes were wide as she gazed into his. He tucked a fiery curl behind her ear, then kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse raced wildly, whether it be from the run there—or her anticipation of what lay ahead—he didn't ken.
Sorcha closed her eyes and tilted her head back, savoring the heady sensation of his lips touching her.
"I'll share you with no one," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He brushed his lips across hers, then he captured her mouth, kissing her hungrily.
Her lips parted and his tongue sent shivers of desire racing through her. Blood pounded in her head and her knees grew weak. She clung to him, fearing if she didn't, she might sink to the floor.
His hands roamed, touching her as if examining a precious treasure. Then he suddenly stepped away. "Undress for me, Sorcha," he said hoarsely.
With trembling hands she removed her shoes and stockings, then unlaced her bodice, letting it slide down her arms, before tossing it onto a chair. He continued to watch her as she unfastened the skirt and let it drop to the floor.
Desire jolted through Sorcha as she realized Galen's need for her grew with each piece of clothing she removed. She lifted the hem of her shift and drew it over her head, then let it fall from her fingertips. She stood before him, naught between her skin and his heated gaze. Sorcha wasn't as shy as she had believed she'd be when the time came to perform her wifely duties. Not that she considered making love to Galen a duty. Nay, 'twas a pleasure, to be sure, the marvelous way his touch made her body come alive.
She shook out her hair and waited in anticipation for him to tell her what to do next. After all, he was experienced at this sort of thing and she wasn't.
His hungry gaze dropped from her eyes, to her shoulders, to her breasts, then slowly and seductively, it slid downward to the juncture of her thighs.
Sorcha's breath caught in her chest and she shivered beneath his shameless perusal.
He swept her, weightless, into his arms and eased her onto the bed.
With an urgency he hadn't exhibited until then, he yanked off his boots, drew his shirt over his head, and quickly discarded his belted plaid.
Saints above! A lady other than herself
would have looked away, but not Sorcha. She'd never seen anything so perfect. The chiseled muscles of his chest, arms and shoulders were massive. She'd felt their power beneath her hands on many occasions, and had seen him effortlessly swing a broadsword over and over, whilst the seams of his shirt were near to bursting open. But even that didn't prepare her for what she now saw.
Her gaze dropped lower and her eyes widened. Oh my! She quickly looked up to find him watching her, a wicked grin on his devilishly handsome face.
Her face heated and she quickly looked away.
He chuckled.
He lay down beside her, then raised himself onto one elbow, grasped her chin and turned her face toward his. He covered her mouth with his own, expertly seducing her with his kisses, whilst his hand caressed every inch of her.
Aching with desire, she moaned against his lips.
"I want you, lass." He whispered against the corner of her mouth.
"And I you," she said breathlessly, running her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, to the flat plane of his belly, savoring the feel of his bare skin and hardness of his muscles beneath her hands. Then her fingers brushed against his arousal and she heard his sharp intake of breath.
Galen clenched his teeth. If the lass kept that up, it wouldn't be much of a wedding night. "Nay, Sorcha," he begged hoarsely, fighting his desire. He gently positioned her, then settled himself between her thighs. He slid his hands beneath her round, shapely hips and nudged against her heated core.
Sorcha wrapped her legs around his waist.
Galen clenched his teeth, warring between the primal need to bury himself deep inside her, and wanting her to find her own pleasure before he did. Saints above! She was exquisite, with her fiery hair spread wildly across the bed covers and her eyes dark with passion.
She drew his head down to hers, kissing him hungrily.
He penetrated her softness and she gasped against his mouth.
Galen gazed into her eyes. "'Twill hurt, I'll not lie to you, lass. But 'twill be worth it, I promise." He wasn't used to dealing with virgins, but he meant to take his time with Sorcha—even if it killed him.
She nodded. "Do it quickly, then."
Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting.
He grinned. "First, you must relax. 'Twill be much easier if you do."
Sorcha blew out a long breath, and some of the tension subsided.
He captured her wrists and brought them above her head, thrusting her full breasts upward. He bent forward, brushing his lips across one dusky nipple, then the other, before capturing it in his mouth.
Sorcha moaned and arched her hips.
Galen let go of her hands. He could wait no longer. He plunged into her depths, breaking her barrier.
She cried out and he stopped. Then began to move slowly, and after a moment, she started to move with him.
Sorcha nails dug into his back and her body trembled, as she sought relief from the intense need he saw in her eyes. Her hips rose to meet his, her rhythm matching his own. She whimpered against his shoulder as he took her higher and higher, then her body tightened around him.
Galen covered her mouth with his to stifle her scream, then gave himself over to his own desire. His pleasure was pure and explosive, a raw act of possession. She was his. A growl came from deep in his chest as he collapsed on top of her, his breath coming in great gulps. Never had he felt so sated.
"Is it always like this, Galen?" she whispered against the pulse pounding in his throat.
He shook his head. "Nay, my love." How could he tell her he'd never experienced anything even close to what he had with her? Galen rolled onto his side and drew her against him. He covered them with a blanket and slipped his arm about her waist. Sorcha was soon deep in sleep. He gently pushed her hair away from her face and kissed her cheek. He thought himself more content than he'd ever been in his life. He would never allow Campbell to take that away from him.
Galen hadn't wished Sorcha to ken that he and the others were keeping a close watch out for the whoreson, just in case he decided to try to take her again. Sorcha belonged to him. He'd fight for her. Hell, he'd die for her.
***
A sparrow twittered nearby. Sorcha opened her eyes and looked around the bedchamber. Galen wasn't there. What time was it? She wrapped a blanket around herself and walked to the window. The sun hung high in a brilliantly blue sky. The time for the mid-day meal was drawing close. Hungry as the two of them had been for each other, they'd not joined the feast below last night, and now her stomach was growling its complaint.
She spotted Galen, coming from the stables with Kade beside him. Her mind was suddenly flooded with vivid memories of the previous night—her wedding night. She was no longer an innocent, but a married woman who'd been well-bedded—more than once.
As if he knew she was standing there, Galen glanced up and their gazes met. Sorcha shivered with excitement. The effect he had on her never ceased to amaze her, and she hoped it never ceased.
There came a soft tapping at the door.
She turned away from the window. "Aye? Who is it?"
"Inna, m'lady."
"Come in."
Her maid entered the bedchamber carrying a wooden bucket of steaming water. "I came to help you dress."
"Much thanks. I'm glad you're here at Ravenskull, Inna. I've missed your company."
Inna smiled and a blush rose in her cherub cheeks. "I've missed ye as well, m'lady. I worried much for yer safety."
"Aye, I ken you did, but as you can now see, everything has worked out well."
Inna nodded.
After helping her into a pale yellow gown, Inna brushed out Sorcha's hair and drew it back loosely with a ribbon of the same color.
Sorcha picked up the mirror. Her eyes widened at the sight of her pink cheeks and puffy lips. Lips that had been both gently kissed, and devoured. She lifted a hand to her mouth and shivered.
The bedchamber door swung open and Galen strolled in, a broad grin on his devastatingly handsome face.
As always, Sorcha's insides quivered upon seeing him.
"I'll take m' leave now, m'lady," Inna said, then quickly left the room.
"Inna's terrified of you."
"Aye, I ken," he said, bolting the door. "Perhaps she'll learn to like me." His gaze leisurely traveled over her and he nodded his approval. "Come here, wife."
She smiled and threw herself into her husband's open arms.
He covered her mouth, kissing her with a need that both excited and surprised her, for 'twas but a short time ago they'd last made love. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. He slowly shook his head. "I still can't believe you're mine."
She slipped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth back down to hers. Her love for Galen filled every part of her being. He'd become the very air she breathed.
His lips left hers to nibble at her earlobe.
Then her stomach growled.
He lifted his head and frowned. "I'd like naught else than to undress you, lass, and to keep you here with me until the two of us are satisfied beyond reason, but I fear you are in need of nourishment, as you did not break you fast this morn."
"I'd much rather stay here with you," she said, pretending a pout.
His gaze fell to her mouth and his eyes darkened. "You tempt me so, wife, but I'm afraid it'd not be looked upon too kindly if I let you starve to death, just to satisfy my never ending lust for you."
She chuckled. "Very well. Then take me down to the great hall, husband of mine." She slipped her arm though his.
He patted her hand. "Besides, you'll be needing your strength for later." He winked, then led her out of the bedchamber.
Sorcha smiled. She could hardly wait.
Chapter Twelve
Galen crossed the bailey on his way to the stables. He'd risen early, even before the full moon had given way to the morning sun, which now pinked the horizon, hinting at the glorious day to come.
It'd been a little ov
er a month since he and Sorcha had spoken their marriage vows. He kept himself busy enough through the daylight hours, but 'twas the nights that he longed for. His desire consumed him, filled his thoughts—made him daft as the village idiot.
Galen had wanted to return to Moorloch sooner, but Jillian had begged them to stay a while longer. He was still worried that Campbell might try to take Sorcha again. Once she was safely at Moorloch Castle and away from the mainland, he would breathe a sigh of relief.
Soon he and Sorcha, along with Ewan, Cinead, Duncan and Inna, would be on their way to Perth, where they'd stay for the night. In a week's time, they'd board a vessel in Oban going to the Isle of Mull, then 'twas but a short distance to Moorloch Castle. Galen couldn't wait for his father to meet his new wife, whom he'd left deep in sleep, after yet another exhausting night of lovemaking. He smiled to himself. The lass was a quick learner.
"Galen," Cinead called to him from across the courtyard.
Galen stopped and waited for him.
Duncan exited the castle with a half-eaten scone in one hand, and a bannock in the other. "What are you lads up to?"
"I was just about to ask Galen when we're to leave," Cinead said, watching Duncan stuff the bannock into his mouth, even before he'd finished swallowing the scone.
Galen smiled. Duncan was a man who enjoyed his food. He could never figure out how he stayed so fit. "It'll take us at least ten hours to reach Perth, for the horses carrying Sorcha's things will certainly slow us down." We'll find lodging there for the night, then seek Highland hospitality the remainder of our journey."
He always traveled light, and, of course, the majority of what he owned was already at Moorloch. He had to make certain all of Sorcha's belongings, which had arrived from Clifftower, made it onto the ship.
Cinead keenly watched as Aggie, the milkmaid, entered the courtyard.
"We'll leave in an hour, after we break our fast," Galen said.
Cinead didn't appear to have heard him, for his gaze was riveted on the sway of Aggie's shapely hips.
She glanced over her shoulder and flashed him an enticing smile.
"An hour, you say?"
