A Merry MacNaughton Mishap: An Historical Romance Novella (MacNaughton Castle Romance)

by Aubrey Wynne

  He chuckled and cupped her breast, rubbing and kneading through the material until her nipple was hard and aching. Her pulse increased, and she trembled with the new sweet sensations. His hand caressed her stomach and slid lower. He rubbed slowly, lightly between her legs, creating a liquid warmth that spiraled through her. He continued his rhythmic stroking as she whimpered, fire licking her veins when his lips returned to her neck and, once again, claimed her lips. A delicious pressure was building insider her, making her legs weak, her head light, and her body scream for more. More of what, she did not know. And then he stopped, her stomach still quivering as the tremors inside her quieted. Her chest heaved, panting from some inner exertion. Sweet Mary, is this love? It will be the death of me.

  “Do ye believe in fate, Peigi?” His voice was gravelly and sounded pained.

  She opened her eyes, saw the strain and regret in his midnight blue eyes, the rigid clenching of his jaw. “I believe destiny plays a part in our lives. And ye?”

  “I think every man decides his own way, regardless of what fate throws at him.” He carefully set her back on the seat beside him. “I shouldna have taken advantage of ye like that, out here alone. Ye are a tempting beauty, and I hope ye dinna think the less of me.”

  “Nay, if I’m honest, I enjoyed it immensely even if I dinna understand it all.”

  That seemed to please him. He picked up the reins and clucked to the horse, sending them back into motion with a lurch.

  How could he just stop? Her mind was still hazy with his touch, and he was whistling and driving them over the next hill as if they’d done nothing but shake hands. Was it because passion between a man and a woman was not a novelty to him, or because he felt no love for her? It would make sense. Though he desired her, without love, it was just a physical act. One that could be started or ended when he chose.

  Her mind went over the past few days and this latest adventure. Looking at his profile, the strong jaw, straight nose, kind eyes, she realized how much she liked this man, how she could love him without reserve. She knew he liked and respected her, too. Yet, Calum deserved so much more than a stranger for a wife, a woman who would only quench his desire but never satisfy his heart. This man longed for the kind of love that was rare. Perhaps he’d never find it.

  Not if ye marry him.

  Her chest hurt at the thought of what lay before her if she broke the betrothal. What kind of a person was she if she put him in the same position she had been? Was her virtue any more valuable than this man’s happiness? He didn’t love her; they’d only met a few days ago.

  “Love will come in time, Peigi, I have no doubt.”

  What if it didn’t? Would he come to resent her? She closed her heart against the thought that, in the end, his words would haunt them both.

  She hugged Ailish. “Thank ye for everything. I shall miss ye.”

  “It willna be long. I’m thankful to finally have a daughter.” She kissed Peigi’s cheek. “We shall be the best of friends.”

  Peigi blinked back tears, forcing a smile. “Ye have much to do to prepare for the holiday. We shall no’ impose any longer.”

  “Enid has been fretting for days, worried she willna finish in time. It’s the same every year,” scoffed Angus.

  Her father shook hands and said his goodbyes.

  Hamish and Finley came out to bid them farewell. Finley picked her up and twirled her around, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. “Goodbye, Sister!”

  Hamish, not to be outdone, scooped her up in a bear hug and taunted Calum. “She’s just my size, big brother. If ye change yer mind…” He set her down with a wink. “I like to poke the bear, ye ken.”

  Then Calum was beside her, his hands on her waist to help her mount. “I canna let my brothers take a kiss and leave me out.” He bent his head and claimed her mouth, the brothers whooping and whistling behind them.

  The breath left her chest, and she clung to him. She returned the kiss, prolonging the bittersweet farewell, memorizing the feel of his velvet tongue, his hands spanning her back, the sweet, smoky smell of him. If she must give him up, she would cherish the memory of him. It would be his hands when the earl embraced her, his lips on her when she endured another man’s kiss. He raised his head, but she pulled him back, her hands gripping his plaid, refusing to let him go.

  He chuckled. “Aye, we’ll make a good match.” He slapped her on the bum. “Now, let’s get ye home so ye can come back to me.” Without another word, he lifted her onto the saddle and settled her skirts around her.

  She pulled the sheet of paper from her cloak. “This is for ye. Dinna read it until tonight. Promise me.”

  Calum gave her a quizzical look but nodded, accepting the parchment. She picked up the reins and wheeled the mare around the hindquarters. With a quick kick to its flanks, she galloped past her father and back toward Castle Craigg. Back to her real life and away from this MacNaughton fairy tale.

  Chapter Eight

  The Reluctant Rejection

  Calum sat in front of the fire, watching the embers pop and spark. He held the letter containing Peigi’s remorseful words in his hand, absently tapping it against his thigh.

  “Ye look pensive for a man who just ravished his intended. In front of his family.” Angus entered the room, ending the silence. “That was a fine goodbye. She may even be back before the new year.”

  “Nay, Peigi has released me from our betrothal.”

  “What? After that kiss?” His father towered over him. “Och, it’s more Craigg treachery. Convince us to make peace then take back the bounty. I’ll—”

  “Nay, Malachi doesna ken yet.” Calum waved the foolscap in his hand. “Here, read for yerself.”

  With a grunt, the chieftain sat next to his son and unfolded the paper.

  Dearest Calum,

  Words canna express my appreciation for all ye and yer family have done for the Craiggs. To be part of yer clan would be an honor, and a debt I couldna ever repay. So I release ye from our betrothal.

  I ken how it feels to be put in a position against yer will. As I watched yer parents together, and listened to yer hopes of sharing that same kind of love with another, I realized the great disservice I did to ye. The innate kindness in ye, from saving my father to yer concern for a wee child and her dog, makes me realize how selfish I have been. Though I was severely tempted, I canna in good conscience force ye into a marriage to save me from entering a like fate. My father will be furious when he learns of my actions, but I am a stubborn Scot as well and will maintain my resolve.

  Ye deserve a woman ye adore as Angus does Ailish. I will likely regret giving up the best man I have ever kent, but yer eventual resentment of me would be far worse. Better to tend a sore heart now than a broken one later. I will think of ye and yer kisses often. The memory of my time with ye at MacNaughton Castle will help me face the future and soothe my aching heart.

  I only ask that ye think of me when ye find that woman of yer dreams, and remember how I played a part in helping ye find yer happiness.

  With the kindest and sincerest regards,

  Peigi

  “Is it too early for a drink?” asked Angus when he’d finished reading.

  “A wee swallow might be just the thing.”

  “What the devil is she thinking? And what do I have to do with any of this?” His father moved to the side table holding the whisky.

  “I believe this may be my fault,” said Ailish from the door. “I didna mean to eavesdrop, but yer voice carries all the way down the hall. Soft and subtle has never been yer strength, Husband.”

  “What could ye have done except befriend the lass?” He handed a glass of scotch to his son but Ailish intercepted it and threw it back, smacking her lips. He chuckled and turned to refill the glass.

  “She wondered why none of my sons were yet married. I told her they hoped for a love match as their parents had found.” She touched her son’s cheek. “I’m afraid I put it in her head.”

  “Nay, M
a, I said the same to her when ye were dancing in the parlor. I set her thoughts churning all by myself.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now what?”

  “Do ye love her?” asked his mother.

  He was silent, studying the crackling peat in the grate. “I’m attracted to her. There is passion between us that I havena felt before. But love?” He pounded his fist on his knee. “I told her love would come in time and believed it myself.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I feel as empty as a bird’s nest in December.” He stood and began to pace the room. “I canna accept her words, nor can I go against her wishes.”

  “Her wish is for ye to be happy, Son. Ye dinna seem verra happy to me.” Angus refilled his glass and shared a look with his wife. “If it was me, I’d go after the lass. Tell her I refuse to make peace if she doesna keep her end of the bargain.”

  “Is that how ye feel?” Calum’s gut tightened at the thought of resuming the feud.

  “Nay, I like Malachi and willna go back on my word. The peace will be profitable for both clans. But Peigi doesna ken that.” He grinned. “So, make a plan, Son. Make a plan. Ye only have until the Englishman’s Twelfth Night.”

  “Oh, my dear. Such a harvest for the hall. They’ll be lovely over the hearth and window casings.” Ailish beamed as her son entered the kitchen with his arms loaded, smelling like Scotch pine. “Enid, get the boy some sustenance for his hard work.”

  Calum dropped the greens and holly onto the trench table as his mother oohed and ahhed over the clumps of white and red berries. “I’d prefer some of Enid’s special rub to get the sap off my hands. I swear I could lift this table with my palms just from the stickiness.” He unclasped his plaid and let the top portion fall, shaking the snow onto the floor and ducking Enid’s mock blows. Black Angus imitated Calum and shook his great wiry coat, sending a spray of moisture across the floor and the occupants.

  “Och, ye mangy mongrel. Out of my kitchen, out!” Enid pointed to the door and the hound lay down, whining. “Crying willna help ye, ye wet beast. Go.”

  The dog stopped just outside the door, sat down, and began to howl.

  “Now ye’ve done it, woman.” Calum grabbed a piece of mistletoe from the collections of holiday greens. “Let me take that scowl off yer face.” He pulled her close, laughing as she clutched at the kertch threatening to fall from her head. He gave her a loud smack on the mouth.

  “A devil, ye are! I’m too old for this foolery.” But her eyes said she was pleased.

  “Ah, but ye love me, Enid, my dear. I ken ye do.”

  “Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:

  Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.”

  His mother lent her clear voice to his.

  “Then, heigh ho, the holly!

  This life is most jolly.”

  “Ye seem verra cheerful this day,” observed Ailish as he shook the rest of the snow from his voluminous plaid.

  “Stop dirtying my floor and try one of these biscuits. I added currants and need to ken if it’s sweet enough.” The cook wiped her hands on her apron and cut a wedge of the still warm treat. She popped it into his open mouth. “Well?”

  His face a mask of mock thoughtfulness, Calum chewed, then declared, “The only thing sweeter would be my favorite cook, Enid.” He smacked his lips and pinched her plump cheek.

  “Stop that sweet talking. What are ye wanting?”

  Ailish, hands on her hips, studied him with narrowed eyes. “Ye figured out what to do, then?”

  He nodded and gave Enid another side-glance. “I’ve come up with several ideas this week, but I think only one will work. If Enid’s willing, I’ll be leaving in two days.”

  “I dinna agree to anything that takes ye away from us on the holiday.” She waggled a plump finger at him. “And what in heavens would I have to do with it?”

  “I need twenty of yer Scotch buns.”

  The gasp was followed by incoherent mumbling and a few choice curses involving a donkey. “Ye’ll no’ take half my buns just before Hogmanay. I’ve been baking for weeks.”

  “What if ye replaced some of them with the best biscuits in Scotland?”

  The cook blushed but eyed him suspiciously. “Tell me yer plan and I’ll think on it.”

  Ailish sat down at the scarred kitchen table and poured tea for the three of them. “It’s about time. I feared ye’d changed yer mind about her.”

  “Ye ken the Craiggs canna give out gifts this year. So, I shall arrive at the stroke of midnight and be the First-footer, laden with gifts for the clan members. She willna want to turn away such an offer. But it will come with a price.” He grinned and cocked his head, waiting for a response.

  “Marriage?”

  “Aye.”

  Ailish clapped her hands. “I almost feel sorry for the poor thing. She willna stand a chance.”

  Enid sighed. “Weel, I suppose I could split those buns in half, pass out smaller ones to the families, and make extra biscuits.” She laughed. “But I want to hear the bellowing of a bairn by this time next year! And bring that handsome father of hers with ye.”

  Calum led the spare horse behind him, loaded with buns, salt, and silver coins. He hummed a little ditty as his gelding plowed through the snow. He would arrive late tomorrow afternoon. The plan hinged on locating Malachi without Peigi’s knowledge.

  He passed through the village of Dunderave, greeting the tenants and assuring them that the MacNaughton and Madam would be visiting on the first day of the new year. He checked on Enid’s sister and niece. The pup was doing fine, though some socks and a pair of boots had not fared as well. His actual destination, Reverend Robertson’s home, was his last stop before leaving the glen. He motioned for the deerhound to remain by the horses.

  The minister opened the door and smiled a welcome. “Why Calum, it is grand to see ye. Come in, come in.” He stepped aside and ushered his guest inside. They sat before the hearth, a peat fire glowing in the grate. The walls were made of stacked stone, and flagstone had been dug into the packed earthen floor. Wealth was not a priority in this household.

  “Is Rob back?” A round woman, dark brown eyes and hair piled on her head beneath a kertch, bustled into the main room of the small cottage. “Why, Calum, I thought ye were our son. Let me get some tea to warm yer bones.”

  “Nay, Mrs. Robertson, I canna stay. I’m on my way to Castle Craigg and need to ask a favor.”

  The shock in the couple’s eyes induced Calum to give a brief summary of the past week. Then he explained his reason for the visit. “I’m en route to fetch my bride. I plan on being back before the clock strikes twelve tomorrow night. Would ye be willing to marry us the first day of the new year at that late hour?”

  The reverend removed the spectacles from his nose and cleaned them with the corner of his blue wool waistcoat, his gray eyes concerned. He put them back on slowly and smoothed thin gray strands over his bald pate. “She’ll be a willing bride?”

  Calum laughed. “I willna make it on time if she’s no’. I’ll need her cooperation.” He paused. “I want to begin this year and this union with the blessing of both clans. The ceremony should be on somewhat neutral ground, so I thought yer cottage would be ideal. There will be Craiggs joining this village soon enough.”

  The reverend beamed. “I would be honored to assist with a truce between the Craiggs and MacNaughtons. I look forward to meeting my new clansmen.” He stood and held out his hand. “She must be quite a lass.”

  “She is indeed, Reverend. She is indeed.” He shook the offered hand. “My family will meet us here. I’m obliged to ye both.”

  Before he left, Mrs. Robertson stuffed some cheese and bread into the folds of his plaid. “Ye’ll need some sustenance before ye make the inn.”

  Calum MacNaughton slammed his tankard on the table and let out a rumbling laugh. Black Angus lifted his head, ears perked, and lowered it again when his master didn’t move from the chair.

  The o
ld seeress moved among the patrons of The Thistle Inn, bartering a glimpse of their future for food or wool. She stopped next to the hearth, leaned against the oak, and stared up at the blackened beams. The fortuneteller was clever with her predictions and delivery, giving just enough fact to make her words seem possible yet remaining vague enough for multiple interpretations.

  “Ye will receive a great treasure in the near future,” the old woman said in a raspy voice, tucking a frazzled gray strand of hair under her scarf. “This bounty will bring ye many more treasures over the years.” Her brown wool shawl hung limply over her thin shoulders as she pocketed a lump of sugar with a gleam in her eye.

  “Didna yer cousin in the Lowlands want ye to invest in his ship? May be worth a thought or two, Alec,” said one man at the table.

  The man took a long, thoughtful pull of his ale. “I think she’s referring to the McDonagh lass I’m after. Her da’s got enough cattle to feed my entire clan until the devil comes for us. And her dowry makes her bonnie even if her face doesna.”

  “Och, mon, the girl has the charms of an outraged sow. Dinna marry for money when ye can borrow it so much cheaper!”

  Laughter erupted around the room.

  Alec grinned. “But I willna have any candles in my bed, and they’re all the same in the dark, eh?”

  The old woman shuffled over to Calum. “And do ye wonder what the future holds? I see interesting things around ye.”

  “Ah, my sweet, I like surprises. I’m happy to wait and see what’s around the next bend.” He stood and gave his thigh a soft slap. Black Angus rose, stretched, then padded behind him. He was bone tired. “Right now, the only future that concerns me is finding my bed and getting across those frozen hills tomorrow.”