Highland Captive

by Alyson McLayne

  Deirdre swung again. Gavin deflected the weapon with a single, soft touch, so the blade turned, and the flat side hit his plaid.

  “Please, love. Give me the blade.”

  “Nay! I almost jumped off that bloody cliff!”

  He blanched, and this time when she lifted the sword and swung again, he caught the blade in his palm. He gripped harder, and the blade dug in. Blood dripped down the edge and over his wrist.

  “Gavin,” she yelled and tried to pull it away, but he held on.

  He kneeled and put the blade to his neck. “I would die for you, Deirdre. If I could take back what I did, I would. I am so sorry I wronged you, that I failed to see you for the angel you are. You have been my son’s savior and my own. You are right. I treated you with less respect than I would show an ox. I will ne’er forgive myself for that, for driving you to the edge of that cliff. Forgive me.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face. “I will if you release the sword.”

  He let go but left the blade on his shoulder, almost touching his neck. “I swear to you, Deirdre, I am yours. For now and forever. I am not happy that Lewis lied to you, that he used you and left you. But I am overjoyed that you are not married, because I canna imagine any greater blessing than you becoming my wife. Please, Deirdre. Will you marry me?”

  She stared down at him—his blood staining the blade, his eyes, those amazing blue-green eyes shining up at her with hope, but also with uncertainty. And she realized that this man, this laird of a great, prosperous clan, as astonishingly handsome as Adonis and as skilled a warrior as Hercules, was frightened that she’d say nay.

  “A real marriage this time?” she asked, her voice breaking, wanting so badly what he held out to her. “With us living together, here with our family? Sharing our lives and our bodies? Because I want more bairn. And I want you. I want it all, Gavin MacKinnon, and if you doona intend to tup me—”

  Gavin rose in one quick, smooth movement, and the sword clattered to the floor. His hands tangled in her hair as he held her in place. His lips landed on her mouth, and he kissed her.

  He angled his head, his tongue slick and soft against the seam of her lips. She opened for him with a gasp and a shiver. Her arms circled his waist and slid up his back, holding on to this man who had become her everything. The heat and hardness of him thrilled her. His gentleness made her want to cry—and then demand more.

  “I intend to tup you, Deirdre. Often. So, say aye, and that you’ll marry me. Right now. Please, dearling. I canna wait much longer.”

  “How often is often?” she asked, breathless and shattered.

  “As often as you’ll have me.”

  “Aye, I’ll marry you, Gavin MacKinnon, with our son there by our sides.”

  A happy sigh went up from their onlookers, and she even heard a sniffle or two.

  “Now that, lads, is a marriage proposal. Somebody get the priest!” Gregor yelled.

  Nineteen

  “Are you sure you doona want to put off the ceremony for at least a day?” Isobel asked.

  “I’m absolutely sure.” Deirdre paced back and forth in front of the church’s sanctuary, her footsteps echoing off the vaulted stone ceiling.

  They were waiting for Gavin to arrive with Ewan, and Kerr to arrive with Father Lundie. What was taking them so long? Surely it didn’t take this much time to wake up their child and escort the priest here?

  She looked up at the stained-glass windows that depicted the stages of Christ’s life, high on the stone wall above the rows of pews. Had the glass lightened since she’d been waiting? Aye, a little. So dawn was nearly upon them.

  “Let’s wait until this evening then,” Isobel pressed. “Then everyone can get a few more hours sleep while Bonni prepares a special feast and we sort out a beautiful dress for you to wear.”

  “This one is beautiful-—the most beautiful arisaid I’ve e’er worn. And you gave it to me.” Deirdre searched with her fingers under her sleeve and pulled out the blue ribbon that Gavin had used to wrap the gift he’d given her the other day. “Here, help me put Gavin’s ribbon in my hair.” She passed the ribbon to Isobel, and then finger-combed her dark tresses as best she could. When she was done, Isobel looped the ribbon underneath Deirdre’s locks and then tied it at the top.

  Isobel squeezed her shoulders. “You do look lovely. But even just a day—half a day to prepare—will make the whole thing better. Deirdre, you’re getting married. Let me make it special for you!”

  Deirdre grasped Isobel’s hands. “It is special. I’ll have everyone here I care about. A family—a real family—by my side, loving me, wanting to see me happy and cared for. My sister, my son, a father to give me away, my brothers, and my newfound cousin—no matter how annoying he may be at times.”

  Isobel huffed out a laugh and nodded. “And Gavin, of course.”

  “Aye, and Gavin. Always Gavin.”

  “You can count me as a part of that family too, love.” Deirdre looked up to see Annag walking down the aisle toward them, a still-sleeping Ewan in her arms. Her kindly face was creased in a beaming smile, and her eyes shone with pleasure. “A grandmother, I hope. The same way I feel toward Gavin and this little one here.”

  Deirdre hurried over and embraced her. “Aye, dear Annag. I would be honored to have you as my grandmother.”

  “I’m so happy for you, lass. Both of you. I couldnae think of a kinder woman to be marrying my Gavin.”

  “Me neither,” Gavin said as he entered the chapel and walked toward them. He’d shaved and changed his clothes, his linen léine fresh and white and his plaid crisply pleated. She’d never seen that one before. The weave and colors were slightly different than his others, the dye brighter.

  “Och, you look so brawny and braw,” she said. “Maybe we should do as Isobel suggested and wait a day so I can look as nice as you.”

  “Nay,” Gavin said emphatically, reaching for her hands. “You’re already exquisite, and I canna wait one more minute to make you my wife. My heart aches to look upon you now. If you do anything else to yourself, it might break.”

  “Well, in that case, where’s the priest?” Then she leaned into him and whispered, “I wouldnae want you dying on me before I experienced at least one night of pleasure.”

  “I heard that,” Isobel said, her face scrunched up and her hands over her ears. “And I can ne’er unhear it!”

  “Unhear what?” Kerr boomed from the doorway, leading not only Father Lundie inside, but Gregor, Darach, Lachlan, and Callum as well.

  “Deirdre is whispering lewd things to Gavin,” Isobel said.

  Heat scorched her cheeks. “Isobel!”

  “Was it more lewd than what we heard earlier?” Lachlan asked.

  “Aye, that was by far the most lusty marriage proposal and acceptance I’ve e’er heard,” Gregor said.

  “Did she actually say ‘tupping’?” Darach asked.

  “Nay, I think it was ‘tup.’ But she did say ‘bodies’ and ‘bairn,’” Callum added.

  Deirdre groaned in embarrassment while Gavin watched his brothers gather around, a grin on his face. “Make them stop,” she pleaded.

  “I canna,” he said. “If I tell them to stop, it’ll just get worse.”

  “Welcome to the family, Cousin.” Kerr’s big hands cupped her face, and he kissed her forehead. “I have no doubt you can slay them with your wit.”

  Father Lundie moved around to the front of the group and into the sanctuary to prepare for the upcoming mass. He winked at her, a sparkle in his eye. “Good morning, lass. By the sounds of it, I’d better marry you soon.”

  They all hooted with laughter. Deirdre was sure that if the priest wasn’t standing in the sanctuary, wearing his official vestments and carrying the Bible, the men would have slapped him on the back and offered him a mug of ale.

  “The su
n is coming up,” Father Lundie said. “What a perfect time for a wedding. God’s promise of a new day, and a new life beginning for the two of you.”

  * * *

  Gavin stood on the chapel balcony facing the bailey, the keep looming on the other side. The open, grassy area was filled with all the castle folk, warriors, and people from the village. News had spread fast about their laird’s wedding to Lady Deirdre, and many had made it there on time. It hadn’t been that long—less than two hours—since Deirdre had said aye, but the story of her betrayal in marriage had circulated like wildfire through the clan, as had Gavin’s subsequent proposal, even though the sun had barely risen.

  It was a love story for the ages. Or it would be, if Gavin could make Deirdre fall in love with him.

  When he’d been younger, he’d been attracted to superficial things and full of hubris about himself and his appeal to the lasses. Back then, he’d never have doubted that Deirdre would fall in love with him. The last six years, however, had scoured all of that out of him. All that and then some.

  Now he hoped, with Deirdre’s healing touch, that scouring had made him a better man.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t see her physical beauty—how could he not? But it was the way she held his son and laughed with his sister and teased his brothers that made him fill up inside. It was her kindness toward others, her sacrifices for Ewan, her ability to forgive that made her even more beautiful to him.

  She was a woman worth loving. And he hoped someday he would be worthy of her love in return.

  He heard the door to the balcony open. Turning, he looked past his foster brothers, Isobel, and Annag, grouped behind him on either side, and saw Gregor walk through. He was beaming like a proud father, with Deirdre on his arm and Ewan perched on the other side on his hip.

  Gavin’s heart, which had already been thumping quickly, began to race. She smiled at him, looking a little dazed and a wee bit teary. Aye, he could understand that. He felt the same.

  When Ewan saw him, he shouted, “Da!” and leaned toward him. Gavin reached for his son and then held out his hand for Deirdre. “You’re a vision, lass. I couldnae be happier than I am at this moment.”

  She clasped Gavin’s hand and stepped up beside him. “I feel the same. I canna wait to marry you, Gavin. And I’m sorry I hit you with the sword.”

  Snorts of laughter went up from his family—their family—and he grinned. “It was worth it if it got you to marry me.”

  It was then she looked beyond him and noticed all her new clan gathered in the bailey below. She gasped and raised her hand, and a cheer went up. Aye, they were her family now too.

  Father Lundie began the ceremony. When it was time, Gavin passed Ewan over to Isobel and gave Deirdre her wedding gift—a magnificent pearl necklace and brooch that his mother had worn and had been in their family for generations. Harvested from Scotland’s rivers, the pearls were a stunning array of colors and shapes, grouped together to form a magnificent pattern of the rounder lilac-colored pearls and cream-colored pearls, separated by spherical gray ones.

  Deirdre gasped when she saw them. “Gavin, they’re beautiful.” She ran her fingertips over the pearls, almost as if she was afraid to handle them. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye. They were my mother’s. And you will be the only one to have worn them since her.” He didn’t say the words, but he could see she understood his meaning—he’d never given them to Cristel.

  “What about Isobel?” she asked.

  “They’re yours, Deirdre,” Isobel said. “It pleases me beyond words to see you with them.”

  “Isobel will have her own jewels when the time comes,” Kerr said.

  Gavin glanced over to see his foster brother had laid his hand on Isobel’s shoulder—and she hadn’t pushed it off. Aye, weddings had that effect on people.

  Deirdre turned so Gavin could put the necklace around her neck. His fingers were shaking, but he finally got the clasp to fasten. “We’ll do the brooch later,” he said.

  When it came time for their vows, his voice and hand steadied, and he firmly pledged to love and honor her as he slipped the matching pearl ring onto her finger. Her voice wasn’t as steady as his, but that had nothing to do with uncertainty and everything to do with the emotion that hitched her breath and caused her chin to tremble.

  Finally, they kissed, and a cheer went up from the crowd and their family. Father Lundie beamed, then led them back into the chapel for the wedding mass. It all passed in a blur at that point, anticipation roaring through Gavin as the priest finally ended his last prayer. How many steps to the bailey, then to the keep, then up to their bedchamber? How long would it take to get through the well-wishers? How could he avoid his clan wanting to come up and undress the bride for him without killing anyone?

  Gavin clasped Deirdre’s hand, and he could feel it trembling. She squeezed his arm close and kissed his shoulder. Aye, she also anticipated their joining.

  After his disaster with Cristel, part of him couldn’t believe his fortune, to be married to a woman who wanted his touch. But another part of him, a small but persistent part, kept whispering that it couldn’t be real. What if she didn’t like the physical act? Or how he touched her?

  Worse, what if she was pretending, like Cristel had, and everything changed as soon as their marriage was consummated?

  She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “Do we have to do anything else, or can we go straight to bed?”

  He huffed out a laugh and then kissed her. Nay. Deirdre was nothing like Cristel.

  * * *

  Gavin scowled at his clan gathered around them. One hour had passed—one hour—since they were married, and he and Deirdre were still in the bailey, having just been seated at a table on a dais near the keep. Additional tables and benches had been laid out in the bailey to accommodate as many people as possible, and a breakfast feast was being served.

  He couldn’t help but be moved by the way his clan—directed by his housekeeper, Isobel, and his cook—had come together on such short notice to throw an impromptu celebration for them, but he also wanted to roar out his frustration. Not that anyone would have heard him over the noisy clamor of his clan and the bagpipes and fiddle being played exuberantly nearby.

  His only consolation was that Deirdre sat beside him, tightly gripping his hand and tapping her foot impatiently—even though she smiled. Although he doubted how sincere it was when she said, “How much longer?” through gritted teeth.

  He kissed her, and his clan cheered. “We’ll break our fast. That’s it.” He saw the servers moving toward them with their trenchers. “Eat enough to last you the whole day, Deirdre, because we willna be leaving our bedchamber until tomorrow.”

  She snorted in amusement, and this time her smile lit up her eyes. “Aye, Husband. But if our day is as vigorous as I expect it to be, I’ll wager we’ll need more nourishment by eventide.”

  He groaned and kissed her hand. “What exactly are you expecting, Wife? And how much do you know?”

  She stared up at him, her eyes darkening, her skin tingeing pink. “I’m expecting all of you, Gavin. You’ll hold naught back. And I know enough…although not nearly as much as Isobel, by the sounds of it.”

  “What?” he croaked. “How does Isobel know anything? Has Kerr been—”

  “Nay,” she laughed, and kissed his shoulder again. He liked that. “Isobel being Isobel, she has found places to eavesdrop. And you know you canna stop her. She’s heard a lot more than my maids told me.”

  His heart beat a steady, fast rhythm. “If you have any questions, love, or if you’re scared—”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Good. But if you are—”

  “I willna be.”

  He stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I will be.”

  “Why?” she gasped.

  “I want to make
it perfect for you.”

  “Because of Cristel?” she asked, and he knew what she meant. Because Cristel had rejected his touch.

  “Aye, but mostly because of you. I want to be worthy of you, love. And I want to pleasure you in every imaginable way possible.”

  Her lids dropped to half-mast as her gaze turned fervent, and her lips parted slightly on her slow, deep inhalation. The servers placed their trenchers full of food in front of them.

  She kissed his shoulder again. “Then let’s eat, husband. Fast.”

  Twenty

  Gavin took the steps to the keep two at a time, moving quickly even though he carried Deirdre in his arms. Behind him, the clan cheered them on. He didn’t think any of them would follow, but just in case, he’d enlisted his foster brothers’ help to guard the stairs. What man or woman in their right mind would go up against Kerr’s hulking figure—especially if he had a scowl on his face?

  At the top, he turned back toward the bailey and waved. Deirdre did the same. The clan cheered again. Then Gavin carried her over the threshold and into their home.

  “Welcome home, Deirdre MacKinnon.”

  She beamed up at him. “I like how that sounds.”

  “I do too.” He bent his head to kiss her, and she tightened her arms around his neck. Her lips parted with a happy sigh as his mouth touched hers. They pressed gently against each other, moving softly and learning the shape and feel of each other’s lips. She shivered, and he pulled back. “Too much?”

  “Nay, not enough. Take me upstairs, Gavin.” Her voice had deepened, sounded throaty, and now he was the one who shivered.

  He kissed her again and then continued across the empty great hall—not rushing, wanting to draw out this moment. They hadn’t really had a courtship, after all, and this felt like part of one. Aye, they’d been drawn to each other, and they’d kissed, but until a few hours ago, the idea that they could be married one day had seemed almost impossible.

  He also liked the notion of going slow, of teasing her until her need for him was a physical ache…although he suspected his resolve would wear thin as soon as he closed their bedchamber door. “Even if you hadn’t agreed to marry me, this would still be your home for as long as you chose to stay. I hope you know that.”