by Gwyn Brodie
He lifted a damp curl and grinned. She looked adorable. "They will think just as I do."
She arched her brow. "And what might that be?"
"That you're lovelier than a spring day."
She beamed up at him and his heart filled with pride.
He looked over the top of her head and grinned. "Lass, we're home."
Sorcha turned around and breathed in sharply.
"Och, m'lady!" Inna eyes were wide, as she took in the massive castle.
Perched high on a hillside, close to the sea, was Moorloch Castle. Surrounded by a tall bailey wall, well-armed guards stood along the ramparts, watching as the birlinn drew closer. 'Twas a dark and foreboding place, just as it had been meant to be, she was sure. Any invader would think twice about scaling the high walls of Moorloch with its many arrow loops and murder holes.
Galen knew exactly what she was thinking, for he chuckled and pulled her into the warm circle of his arms. "'Tis not as it seems, lass. Once you get inside, you'll see what I mean. I want you to like Moorloch, Sorcha, for I intend for us to happily spend the rest of our days there," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Her vision blurred with tears. Galen's love for her was evident in the words he spoke.
The vessel slowed, as the oarsmen skillfully maneuvered the birlinn between a large outcropping of rocks, then docked a short distance from the castle. After the horses and Sorcha's chests were unloaded, it began its journey back to the mainland.
The salty sea air filled her lungs, as she took a deep breath and looked at her new surroundings. Strong winds whipped the tall grasses and small shrubs about, while a white-tailed eagle, flying just above the water, grasped a fish in its sharp talons, then flew away. Seaweed floated all along the shoreline, occupied by tiny fish that darted this way and that. Everything at Moorloch was new and exciting. She couldn't wait to begin her new life there with Galen at her side.
A young man came running toward them, a broad smile on his face. "'Tis good to see you, sir."
"'Tis good to be home, Jamie. I've returned with a surprise for my father." He slid his arm around Sorcha's shoulders. "This is my wife, Lady Sorcha," he said proudly.
Emotion tightened her chest.
Jamie tilted his head. "Welcome to Moorloch, m'lady."
Sorcha smiled. "Much thanks, Jamie."
The young man's gaze fell on Inna and he gave her a toothy grin.
The little maid's cheeks pinked.
Sorcha lifted a brow. Perhaps Jamie could be Inna's chance at love. She hoped so.
Galen took her hand and they headed toward the castle.
Her stomach knotted with apprehension.
Cinead, Duncan and Ewan led the horses. Jamie walked beside Inna, leading the pack animals carrying Sorcha things.
She trembled with anxiety, as they walked up the slope toward Moorloch's massive portcullis. The winds on the Isle were much stronger than what she was used to. 'Twas as if she were being shoved about by invisible hands. Her hair beat about her face and the sea mist dampened her skin. She shivered and drew her cloak tightly around her.
Galen frowned. "I hope you don't catch a fever from being cold and wet," he said, concern clear in his voice.
A guard opened the gate. "Welcome home, Galen."
"Much thanks, William."
"Galen," Cinead said, "We'll take the horses to the stables, then join you inside. But first, we'll see to Sorcha's things."
Galen nodded. "Much thanks, Cin. Hasten, for we've arrived just in time for supper."
"And not a minute too soon," Duncan said patting his flat stomach. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse—not that it would be the first time."
Sorcha wondered if he were teasing, then figured he was more than likely telling the truth of it. She broke into a smile. "I too am hungry, Duncan."
Several men and women appeared to welcome Galen home. The men slapped him on the back, congratulating him on his marriage. The women smiled and welcomed her to Moorloch. But not all of them.
One dark-haired beauty came hurrying from the castle, a smile on her lovely face, and headed straight for Galen. But when her gaze fell on Sorcha standing at his side, their fingers entwined, her smile quickly faded. If looks could kill, Sorcha would have had a dagger plunged into her heart. The woman turned on her heel and disappeared inside the castle.
Busy greeting his clansmen, Galen didn't seem to notice the young woman's sudden appearance or her sudden departure. But Sorcha was no fool. This woman wanted Galen for herself.
Chapter Thirteen
The crowd dispersed and the two of them entered the castle. Galen had been right. The entrance hall was immense, yet cozy and inviting, with its roaring fire and colorful tapestries hanging about the room. An enormous set of antlers hung above the massive stone fireplace, matched on either side by several smaller ones.
Galen stopped and looked down at her, another frown on his handsome face. "Perhaps you should change out of those wet clothes. I don't want you getting ill."
She ran her fingers through her damp hair. "Perhaps you're right."
As if on cue, several men arrived carrying her things and headed for the stairs.
"Aiden," Galen called out to a tall man with a bit of gray peppering his dark hair.
"Aye, Galen?"
"My wife is in need of a few of her things."
They waited while Sorcha chose what she needed. "Please, give my kitten to my maid, Inna. She'll see to him."
"Aye, m'lady," Aiden said, before they carried the rest of her possessions up to the second level.
"Where shall I change? Your bedchamber?"
Galen picked up her belongings. "Nay, I'm certain the servants have been there making preparations since our arrival. Come with me."
She followed him into the library.
He put her clothes on the settle, then closed the door and leaned against it, a grin on his attractive face. He raised a brow and waited.
Sorcha rolled her eyes and removed her cloak.
He watched her discard each piece of clothing with growing interest and eyes dark with passion. Once there was naught left for her to remove, his sinful gaze traveled over her, lingering on her breasts, before finding her face.
As always, her body ached for his touch.
Making certain the door was bolted shut, Galen reached for her, groaning as he hungrily ravished her mouth.
Sorcha wrapped her arms around his neck. She would never tire of his wonderful kisses; they made her breathless with desire.
His arms encircled her, drawing her against him, revealing his need for her.
She trembled.
After a moment, he lifted his head. "Saints above, lass. How you drive me mad. I want you all the time," he said, running his hands down her sides and over the flare of her hips.
Her body heated, as it always did at his touch. Sorcha sighed. "As much as I want you to make love to me, perhaps 'twould be better if we waited until later. By now your father will have received word of our arrival and be wondering where we've gone off to."
He blew out a long breath, then reluctantly released her. "Of course, you're right. Then get dressed, before I change my mind and have my way with you anyhow," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Upon leaving the library, Sorcha held tightly to Galen's arm as he led her into the great hall, which, like the entry, held many beautiful tapestries depicting Moorloch Castle, and the sea surrounding it.
Shouts echoed through the room, as the crowd acknowledged Galen's return. They reached the high table, where a middle-aged man sat, of whom Galen was the spitting image.
"Father."
Laird MacKinnon got to his feet, a broad grin—not unlike his son's—on his bearded face. "Galen, my son, you've returned. Did Ewan come with you, or return to Elizabeth?"
Galen threw his arms around his father. "Aye, he's here. 'Tis good to see you. How is your leg?"
"It has seen better days, but seems to be healing properly." His
gaze fell on Sorcha standing quietly behind Galen. "Who is this lovely lass you've brought with you?"
"This is Lady Sorcha, Father." He placed his hands protectively on Sorcha's shoulders and moved her to stand in front of him. "She is the sister of Alexander MacPherson, the Laird of Blackstone Castle, and my wife."
Laird MacKinnon's brows shot up in surprise. "You're married then?"
"Aye, are you pleased?"
The older MacKinnon chuckled. "Aye, that I am. I was afraid I'd never live to see the day you'd have a wife. Welcome to Moorloch, lass."
Sorcha curtsied. "Much thanks, Laird MacKinnon."
"There'll be none of that now," he said, with a wave of his large hand. "You'll call me Father, just as Galen does."
She nodded. "Father, then." She liked this man. In a matter of minutes, he'd made her feel welcome.
"Please, sit and eat."
Galen motioned to the seat next to his father, then sat down beside her. A servant girl filled their trencher with venison stew, and gave them two goblets of spiced wine, before moving down the table.
After washing and drying her fingers, Sorcha tore off a piece of warm bread and dipped it into the stew. It tasted as delicious as it looked, and Sorcha groaned with pleasure.
Galen grinned. "Cook makes the best stew."
Sorcha nodded. "Aye, she does at that."
"Father, as you've probably guessed, Sorcha's brother was the one holding Ewan prisoner."
His father lifted a brow. "Aye, I gathered as much."
"I'm happy to say that all is well between us. He gave us his blessing to marry."
Laird MacKinnon nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."
Cinead and Duncan entered the great hall and made their way to the high table, taking their seat across from Laird MacKinnon.
"Cin, Duncan, glad you're here," the laird said, appearing genuinely pleased to see the two Highlanders.
"Laird, I'm much pleased to see your injury has healed well. You look as lively as ever." Cinead grinned.
The older man laughed. "Och, I pray, Cin, 'twill be some time before you find me otherwise."
"As do I," Cinead said, before gulping down his spiced ale.
The servant girl refilled his and Duncan's cups.
Cinead winked and the girl's cheeks turned a bright pink, before she left to continue her duties.
"Cannot resist a pretty face, can you, Cin?" Laird MacKinnon's eye's crinkled at the corners with mirth.
Cinead shook his head and chuckled. "'Tis true, laird."
The laird grinned, then turned to Duncan. "Are you not well, Duncan?" he said, seemingly concerned. "Your appetite seems to have failed you."
They all turned to look at the trencher sitting in front of Duncan. It overflowed with venison stew and he held near a whole loaf of bread in his hand.
Duncan stopped chewing and looked down at his food, then back at the laird. A slow grin spread across his narrow face. "Och, I see you've not lost your sense of humor in your old age, laird."
The laird threw back his head and laughed, as did the rest of them. "Galen, how was your trip from the mainland?"
Galen shook his head. "A gale caught us by surprise. I wondered during the worst of it if we were going to make it through."
The laird frowned. "I'm glad you did." He turned to Sorcha. "Were you frightened overmuch, lass?"
She nodded. "Aye, I was, and much afraid Nutmeg would drown in his basket."
The older man looked at Galen. "Nutmeg?"
Galen smiled. "Her kitten."
"Ahhh, I see. Now, tell me how you came upon this lovely lass." He sat back in his chair and waited for his son to begin.
Ewan being held by MacPherson, of course, his father already knew. But, when he learned that his son had kidnapped Sorcha to exchange for his brother, his shaggy brows shot up in surprise. After Galen finished relaying the entire story, his father shook his head in disbelief.
He was especially bothered by the part Archibald had played. "He sounds like a dangerous man, to be sure. It'd be best if you let my garrison ken of him."
Galen nodded. "He's not to be trusted, 'tis true. Even his own nephew fears he will seek retaliation. But, it has been over a month since I took Sorcha back from him. And with us being this far away from the mainland, I don't feel there's anything to worry about." He turned to Sorcha and smiled. "She's safe here," he said, lacing his long fingers through hers.
Her heart jolted at the touch of his warm hand and the protectiveness in his voice.
"Perhaps," the laird said, "but 'tis better to be cautious now, than to be sorry later."
Galen nodded. "I agree. I'll have the garrison stay alert for Campbell forces."
After that, Galen and his father discussed the crops and livestock, as well as the residents of the castle and the nearby village of Moorloch.
Sorcha took a sip of her drink and for the first time, looked down the length of the high table, where her gaze landed on the same young woman she'd seen when they'd first arrived.
As if she knew Sorcha was watching her, the woman looked up from her food and stared directly at her. A chill swept over her at the look of pure hate in the woman's dark eyes. She took her gaze away and moved closer to Galen. She would ask him later who she was.
After supper and a round of goodnights, everyone went off to find their beds. Galen led Sorcha up to the second level and showed her the location of the garderobe, before taking her down the brightly lit corridor and stopping in front of a bedchamber door.
He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers, then lifted his head. "You'd not believe, lass, how many times I've dreamt of bringing you here to Moorloch, to my own bedchamber, and making love to you."
Sorcha's breath caught in her throat and her body heated at his passionate declaration.
He opened the door and led her inside.
The room was warm and cozy, with a peat fire snapping and crackling in the fireplace. Several candles had been lit and placed about the bedchamber. 'Twas clear the room belonged to a man, for there was naught feminine about it, with its solid green window coverings and bed drapes. She smiled. A few floral embroidered cushions and pillows tossed about was just what it needed—and something to keep her busy during the day was just what she needed.
"The adjoining bedchamber is yours, and that's where they've taken your belongings," he said, bolting the door behind them, "but I would very much like it if you chose to sleep in this one—with me."
After having slept for so long, pressed against his warm chest, his arms protectively wrapped around her, she'd never dream of doing anything else. "I could never sleep without you near me."
Seemingly both pleased and relieved by her answer, Galen grinned and pulled her into his arms. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, sending flames of desire flickering through her body.
His gaze dropped to her chest and he slowly and skillfully unlaced her bodice.
Sorcha shivered, savoring the tantalizing sensation of his warm fingers brushing against her bare skin. Suddenly, the unbidden image of the young woman from the great hall jumped into her thoughts. Had Galen's fingers stroked against her unblemished skin as they now did her own? Had he taken her to unbelievable heights of passion, over and over, as he so adeptly had Sorcha? Had he made love to the woman in the very bed he was now about to make love to her?
Galen frowned. In a matter of seconds, Sorcha went from passionate, to cold as a winter morn. "What is the matter, lass?"
"Who was the pretty woman with the dark hair and dark eyes sitting at the other end of the table?"
Darcy! Why the devil did she wish to ken about her? "You mean Darcy, Darcy McClean," he said, waiting for her to ask the question he knew she would sooner or later.
She cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Who is she?"
"Darcy's father is chief of the McClean clan. He also has vast holdings here on Mull, as well as the mainland."
"Why is she here at Moorloch?"
&n
bsp; "Uncle Fergus, my father's brother, is wed to Laird McClean's sister, Molly. Darcy spends a great deal of time at Moorloch visiting her aunt."
"Umph, I'll bet my favorite gown that's not the only reason she's here." She crossed her arms, forcing her breasts up near the top of her shift.
He reached for her.
She moved away and narrowed her eyes. "Did you bed her?"
This is how it must feel to have the noose slowly tighten around your neck just before you're hanged!
Without touching her, he leaned forward, dipping his tongue into the deep glen between her full breasts, praying it would draw her attention away from Darcy.
He heard her quick intake of breath, but it did little to detour her immediate line of thinking.
"You're evading my question."
Galen slid the bodice down her arms and cast it aside.
She stiffened.
He was getting nowhere, and wouldn't until he satisfied her questioning. He let out a long sigh. "Sorcha, I care naught for Darcy. 'Tis you I love, and you alone I want in my bed. Whatever happened between the two of us is in the past, and that's where 'twill stay."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not so certain Darcy feels that way. I saw how upset she was upon finding us together."
He pulled her to him. "No matter. We're here to begin our life together. Let's not allow Darcy to get in the way of our doing so."
Sorcha appeared to be satisfied with his answer, at least for the moment, because she reached over and unfastened his belt.
Galen held out his arms, as she unwrapped his plaid and tossed it onto a chair.
She then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head, sending it the way of his plaid. She looked down and smiled.
He grinned. "See what you do to me, lass?"
"Aye, I do," she said, as she finished undressing before him, taunting him, driving him mad, with each item of clothing she sent to the floor.
Once she stood unclothed before him, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.
Sorcha wiggled free of his grasp, then slipped to the floor and picked up his belt.
He raised a brow. What the devil was she up to?
