How to Handle a Highlander

by Mary Wine

  Moira jerked her skirts out from beneath her feet, but someone lifted her off the floor before she was untangled.

  “Thank ye…” Her words trailed off as she looked up into Gahan’s dark eyes. He was straight from his bed, his shirt untied at the neck, granting her a view of his chest.

  She recalled all too well the perfection of his flesh and what it felt like against her own.

  “Ye men need to leave,” Asgree informed them.

  “The Fraser goes too,” Norris declared.

  “Stop lashing at her, Norris!” Daphne said, then gasped. “It’s me own doing I’m here, and right glad I was to have her help! I was spying on her because of yer suspicions.”

  “Well-founded suspicions,” Norris argued. “Which is why ye should have been nowhere near a Fraser.”

  “I’ll nae be shackled like a hound.” Daphne slapped the surface of the bed. “Now stop yer growling and tell me ye’re pleased with yer son.”

  Norris turned to Daphne and instantly transformed. His face beamed with joy as he sat on the edge of the bed and peered down at his newborn child.

  Asgree tut-tutted, making a shooing motion. “I need ye gone, so I can attend to the mistress.”

  Norris glared at her. Maids were flooding into the chamber, their hands full of things to help with their mistress’s birth. Daphne began to groan and kick at the bedding. Norris stood but refused to back away from his wife. Asgree had to lean past him to wipe the sweat off her mistress’s face.

  “I’ll go, if that is what it takes to get ye to leave,” Moira said. She brushed off Gahan’s grip and made her way to the door.

  The receiving chamber was brightly lit now, and Achaius stood in the doorway to Moira’s chamber in nothing but his shirt, surveying the scene.

  “Well now, me bride has made herself useful, it seems,” Achaius remarked, noting Moira’s appearance.

  Her gown was covered in blood and fluid from the birth, and her hair was a tangled mess. Her bare toes were turning to ice now that her heart wasn’t racing anymore.

  “Yet ye brought naught else along for yer bride to wear,” Gahan muttered darkly. “For a man who claims to be so happily wed, ye spare her little of yer attention.”

  Achaius merely blinked in the face of the reprimand. “A wife sees to her husband’s needs, lad. Nae the other way around. If I wanted a fancy woman, I’d have gone to Court. I like her in her skin, and do nae care what dress she wears during the day.” He turned and made his way back to bed.

  “Bloody selfish bastard ye have for a husband.” It was a bold thing to say, even for the son of an earl, but people were rushing in and out of the chamber so quickly, no one seemed to take notice. Gahan shook his head then scanned her from head to toe. “Ye look like ye rolled across the stables.”

  “Thank ye so very much,” Moira said, brushing past him. Her heart had stopped racing, but the sting of Norris Sutherland’s words rose in her memory, and tears stung her eyes as she remembered just how unwelcome she was at Dunrobin.

  Norris Sutherland stomped out of the bedchamber, Asgree standing in the doorway with a thin, age-worn finger pointed at him. “It’s time for women’s work.” Noting Achaius’s closed door, Asgree spoke to one of the maids standing by. “Seeing as Lady Sutherland is occupying Lady Matheson’s chamber, escort her to the star chamber.”

  Asgree closed the doors firmly, and the maid stepped forward to escort Moira away. Norris turned with a swish of his kilt and stopped when he caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed, but Gahan stepped between them. Whatever idea she’d had of standing firmly in the face of his displeasure dissipated as shock tore through her. She wasn’t the only one stunned. Norris looked at his brother, astonishment showing on his face.

  “I’ll take her,” Gahan said to the bewildered maid, who lowered herself and scurried away from the two men staring daggers at each other. For a long moment, they held each other’s stares, then Gahan captured Moira’s wrist and pulled her behind him out of the chamber. They were halfway down the stairs before she recovered her wits.

  “Where are we going?” Moira asked.

  “The star chamber,” Gahan grunted. “So called because Norris’s mother painted the walls with constellations. It’s often used for guests, so no gossip will come from ye being there.”

  Moira followed him down two more flights of stairs to the door of a chamber. When she hesitated on the bottom step, Gahan turned in a flash, giving her a look at his furious expression before he pulled her over his shoulder. Gravity aided him, since he was below her.

  “Nay…ye’ll ruin yer shirt!”

  He ignored her warning, taking her weight easily. Even though they were alone, she felt ridiculous hanging over his shoulder and tried to straighten up. He smacked her bottom in response. She collapsed back over his shoulder with a gasp as he carried her across the landing and opened the door.

  He set her down and kicked the doors shut, plunging them into darkness. She was still stumbling away from him when he cupped the sides of her face and sealed her mouth beneath his. There was too much heat in the kiss, and she recoiled from the sheer volume of sensation. Gahan followed her, renewing the contact between their lips. Shock was replaced with passion as he slid his arm down to clasp her against him.

  Dreaming about him hadn’t been nearly as good as being pressed against him. It was pure delight, and she reached for him, returning his kiss. He pushed her until her back hit the wall. His shirt frustrated her, preventing her from feeling his skin. The ties at the collar were loose, and she slid her hand inside to stroke his skin.

  “Ye enchant me, Moira,” he muttered against her neck. “I think I should be afraid of yer effect on me.”

  “So should I,” she whispered. She was caught in the grip of need again. It was a torment she enjoyed, but one that completely consumed her. The darkness of the room cloaked them, offering sanctuary from reality.

  He stroked her thighs, from her hips down, and then gripped her gown to pull it up. The night air offered relief from the heat threatening to consume her. Her heart raced, but this time, the scent of his skin was there to intoxicate her.

  “But all I can think about is how much I want to get back inside ye.” With her gown raised, he caught the back of her thighs and lifted her.

  His kilt moved to accommodate him, and his cock nudged between the folds of her sex. A jolt of need tore through her, making her gasp at its intensity. She ached with emptiness, her clitoris throbbing for attention. His cock was hard against her folds, seeking the opening to her body as he pressed up against her. She arched toward him, clasping him between her thighs.

  “Christ in heaven!” he swore as his length penetrated her.

  She gasped, gripping his shirt so tightly the fabric began to tear. The sound only fed the wildness churning inside her. She dug her nails into his skin and arched her neck, straining toward the next thrust.

  It was hard and sent the breath from her lungs. But pleasure twisted through her, and she tightened her grip on his hips, trying to pull him closer. The pace was frantic, each thrust deep and hard. He held her thighs tightly as he used his body to pin her against the wall.

  There was no delaying the moment of climax. It broke like a storm wave, the frothy bubbles racing up and over her in a rush that made her thrash. She cried out, the intensity too much to contain. Gahan grunted and thrust hard against her a few more times until he growled and his seed spurted into her womb. The hot fluid set off another ripple of delight. This one was deeper, feeling like it moved through the very core of her body. It left her senseless, her arms refusing to hold onto him.

  But he trembled too, pressing her against the wall as though he lacked the strength to stand.

  “I wanted to drag ye away from the hall tonight.” He stroked her cheek, threading his hand into her hair and gripping it. “I wanted to drag ye away because ye were going up to his bed.”

  Her breath caught. It was pitch black, but she didn’t need to see his face to
feel his intensity.

  “I had to…” She hated the hesitation in her voice. “It was me duty.”

  And she was failing at it again. She pushed against his shoulders, but he held her still.

  “He is nae yer husband, Moira.” His tone was hard and edged with authority. “He’s a miser who wants what yer brother will give him, but he’s past the age of being a husband to any woman.”

  “Yet he has broken no law.” She shoved at him again.

  He hissed at her but let her down to her feet and stepped back a pace.

  “He’s broken the code of honor,” Gahan said, “and the Church would agree ye are nae wed.”

  “That does nae make it right for us to be…”

  “Lovers?” he finished. His tone was hard, and he moved off into the chamber and struck a flint stone. Light illuminated his face, and soon there were several candles flickering.

  “There is no affection between us.” She shouldn’t have shared such a personal thought with him, but it just refused to remain unspoken. “Ye want yer way. That is the reason ye kissed me.”

  He moved back toward her, not stopping until he had a hand pressed against the wall next to her head. She was pinned just as surely as if he were touching her.

  “Aye, that was true the first time I kissed ye.” He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. She twisted away, but he followed her, demanding surrender. Resistance might have been on her mind, but it dissipated beneath the motion of his lips. “When ye kissed me back, it became something more, Moira.”

  “Kissing ye back only confirms I lack morality.”

  Gahan cut through her argument. “Flying a soiled sheet and claiming he is enjoying ye is far worse. Achaius is either a greedy man or one plotting to feud. There is no other reason for wedding ye.”

  She ducked beneath his arm. “Neither reason absolves me of my sins.”

  Gahan cupped her shoulder and turned her around. “Ye went to his bed tonight. I saw the determination in yer eyes. What happened? Why were ye sleeping in the other room?”

  “That is hardly proof of anything, Gahan. Many couples do nae share a bed past coupling.”

  “Answer me question.” He might be bastard-born, but he was clearly the earl’s son. Authority edged his words. “Did ye go to his bed?”

  “I tried.” She sighed. “I had to try, had to attempt to perform me duty. Achaius’s gillie told me to wait until I was summoned. Ye should go before everyone knows what we’re about.”

  Gahan ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving, lass.” He held up one finger. “But I am leaving only because ye are correct to worry our liaison would cause trouble. I want peace as much as ye do.”

  For a moment, she offered him a genuine smile. Gahan didn’t return it.

  “I give ye fair warning, Moira, if I discover an opportunity to expose yer husband for the liar he is, I shall.” He paused at the door. “And I promise ye this, I will nae rest until I find the means to end yer marriage.”

  She covered her mouth as her jaw dropped open. Gahan took one last look at her before opening the door and leaving. Determination flickered in his dark eyes, leaving no doubt that he meant every word.

  No doubt at all.

  Six

  Her eyes burned in the morning. Moira rubbed them and forced herself to sit up. A scent teased her nose, and she drew in a deep breath then scanned the room.

  “Good morning, Lady Matheson.” A young girl offered Moira a soft smile as she opened one of the window shutters, spilling bright morning light into the chamber. “Asgree had the cook mull ye some cider. It will help wake ye.”

  The cider was on the bedside table, but Moira didn’t reach for it. She hugged the bedding close to hide her nude body.

  “I am Alanna, and Asgree sent me to look after ye, since ye have none of yer own maids with ye.” Alanna picked up Moira’s undergown and wrinkled her nose. “It was wise of ye to discard this before crawling into bed. The sheets would have been ruined, and that would have been a shame.” Alanna’s cheeks reddened, and she cast a nervous look toward Moira. “Forgive me, Lady Matheson, me mother always said I talked too much.”

  “Do nae worry,” Moira assured her. “It is a happy morning.”

  Alanna smiled wide. “Oh, it is indeed! Ye need to dress so ye can see the young lad be baptized.”

  She opened one of the wardrobes that sat in the room. There were a great number of them set between the windows, and all standing as high as Alanna’s head. With the doors open, Moira could see that the wardrobe was full of garments. She couldn’t help but be jealous of such plenty. She’d never owned more than one chemise at a time.

  With the morning light, Moira was able to enjoy the beauty of the chamber as well. It was indeed a star chamber. She sipped at the cider as she looked at the constellations painted so perfectly on the walls.

  “The last countess enjoyed painting,” Alanna remarked. She held out an undergown in a soft blue color that complemented Moira’s blond hair and matched her eyes. “She also enjoyed fine clothing. This will suit yer coloring well.”

  “It’s silk,” Moira said and shook her head.

  “Asgree told me to dress ye finely. Lady Sutherland has decided ye shall stand as godmother.”

  “I could nae.” Moira’s mouth went dry just thinking of the fit Bari would have.

  Alanna’s eyes rounded. “Oh, but ye must. I’ve got a silver penny bet on ye.” She slapped a hand over her mouth—but too late.

  “What do ye mean?” Moira set the cider aside and left the bed. At least she was getting a little more accustomed to being nude in front of other women; her cheeks warmed only slightly.

  Alanna shrugged and shook the underrobe so it rippled welcomingly. “Lady Daphne is a spirited lass. She told her husband that ye would be the godmother because ye caught the babe. The young laird was quite set against it, but she did nae back down. She promised him she’d be off to visit with her brother, Saer MacLeod, if he did nae soften his heart toward ye.”

  She gathered up the underrobe and helped Moira into it.

  “Mind ye, I think it is a shame ye are wed to so old a man. Yer brother is the fiend I’ve heard he is, and more for making such a match. Men think themselves so important. I laid down me silver against the laird, and I am nae sorry. The retainers all want to sully yer name, but what do they know of yer nature? We females are so often caught in the web of their doings. I am nae the only one betting ye will accept Lady Daphne’s offer of becoming the babe’s godmother and stand up to the laird’s ill thinking of ye.”

  Alanna went behind her to begin lacing the gown closed. “This silk is fine against the skin. It fits ye well, Lady Matheson.”

  Then Alanna went back to the wardrobe and withdrew a velvet overrobe.

  “I’ve never worn something so fine,” Moira protested.

  Alanna brought it to her anyway. “All the more reason to try it. The laird’s first son is a grand occasion. It’s worthy of velvet.”

  Alanna carefully let the gown fall over Moira’s head. It was pleasantly heavy against her chilled skin. A full-length mirror granted her a look at herself as Alanna secured the ties.

  “Ye’re quite fetching,” Alanna said. The girl brought a brush over and began to straighten Moira’s hair. The glimmer of enjoyment in her eyes made it impossible for Moira to argue with her anymore. That silver penny was likely all the girl earned in a month.

  That wasn’t the only reason she wanted to do it, though. Norris Sutherland had wounded her pride. Oh, the man had cause, she would grant him that, but Alanna had a point, too. Women so often had to suffer for the messes men made. Even if the current tension was due to Sandra, who’d been acting on instructions from Bari. They had both been raised to be calculating and dishonest in order to better their station, making Moira forever grateful for her common-blood mother who had taught her to be content.

  Alanna put up her hair in a velvet French hood. “The countess kept
these things for receiving lairds and nobles. She always had the current fashions sent to her.” A pair of stockings and a fine set of leather shoes completed her wardrobe. Alanna rubbed her hands together. “The priest will be waiting for ye to come for a blessing before ye go to take the babe from his parents. Saer MacLeod is going to be the godfather.”

  “Saer MacLeod cannae be here!” Moira exclaimed.

  Alanna nodded. “He is. That man is unnatural. Laird Norris sent a hawk within an hour of the babe’s birth, and Saer MacLeod was here with the dawn. Nae many would brave the night spirits.”

  “I doubt Laird MacLeod fears anything,” Moira said.

  Alanna nodded and went to open the chamber doors. The undergown rustled as Moira moved toward the doors, and she set her shoulders firmly. Perhaps she had not been raised in silk and velvet, but she would not disgrace her father.

  Nor would she forfeit Alanna’s penny.

  ***

  “Ye are causing quite an uproar, Moira Fraser,” Saer MacLeod observed in a low tone. He was wearing a fine wool doublet, and cocked his head from side to side, chafing at the irritating collar.

  But what Moira noticed most was that he did not call her Lady Matheson. A chill touched her nape, because she realized he was no fool. He knew the truth of her union.

  “Standing as godmother was nae my idea, Laird MacLeod,” Moira said. “Nor was delivering Lady Daphne’s child in a stairwell.”

  He flashed her a grin that wasn’t kind at all. “Me sister is a formidable woman, for all that she looks like a Fae princess. I was nae surprised to hear she’d gone to make her own judgment of ye. ”

  They were kneeling at the steps of the altar as the priest began the service.

  The priest frowned at them as he finished his prayers and made the sign of the cross over them both. Saer didn’t look repentant, in spite of the holy man’s attempt to shame him for talking during their blessing as godparents.