Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “Aye, I can read Latin,” she said, sitting back down in the chair.

  “And I thought the grants were much too generous,” the laird said, shaking his head. “What else?”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye, read the rest of it and tell me how the MacLeries fared against the Robertsons.” The laird sat down, crossed one leg over the other and watched as she read the rest of the document.

  Marian did not rush as she read the complex language and all the clauses of the agreement—her brother made certain to keep some of the more valuable land grants to himself, but paid more in gold than she would have expected. She explained this to the laird, who simply grinned at her words.

  “I wonder what Duncan would say if he realized these details?”

  “Oh, nay, laird…Connor,” she said, handing the documents back to him. “I did not mean to disparage his accomplishments in any way with my comments.”

  “And you did not. I simply meant that if Duncan had spoken to you while these negotiations were going on, he would have been able to bring home an even better treaty…for the MacLeries.”

  “The Peacemaker was being pressured at the end of his talks. Mayhap these concessions were put in place then?”

  “Quite possibly. But Duncan has never been pressured into any agreement he did not want.”

  Marian shook her head. “Then this was the first, for certainly he would not have agreed to our handfasting without being forced into it. Any generosity on my brother’s part was simply to smooth over any insults to Duncan’s honor. Iain wanted me gone and Duncan presented him with an opportunity to get it done.”

  “Iain paid much for your removal from the Clan Robertson, Marian. Why would he do so?”

  “Having your whore sister around when you’ve just taken the high seat of your clan is not something enviable, laird. Mayhap he simply wanted to rid himself of the inevitable questions that would be asked?”

  “You are not like any whore I have known, Marian.”

  “And you are not like the Beast you are called outside these walls.”

  The words slipped out and were spoken before she could stop herself. He asked too many personal questions and she needed to keep her wits and steer him away from any that would reveal too much. “Laird, I…”

  “Oh, fear not. The Beast roars when he needs to, Marian.”

  She swallowed and then swallowed again, trying to make words come out. “Your pardon, laird, for my boldness.” She lowered her eyes and waited.

  “Duncan tells me you do not wish this handfasting to be made permanent.”

  Had Duncan shared every personal detail with his laird? She shook her head. “Nay, laird. ’Tis the only honorable thing I can do for him.”

  “Honorable? How so?”

  “I am certain you ken how it came to take place. My brother drugged him and brought him to my cottage. Truly he was unable to do anything but stumble and fall. He did not dishonor me that night.”

  Connor met her gaze then, staring intently at her as she spoke. A shiver tore up and down her spine, warning her to have a care for any misstep could prove her downfall.

  “He offered you marriage—surely he thought he’d done something wrong?”

  “Come now, laird. We both ken the tenuous place in which he found himself—between his orders from you and the possibility that to not accept my brother’s offer would cause your talks to fail. The Peacemaker is known by the deals he makes and for his purpose of keeping or bringing the peace at nearly any cost. This time the cost of success was his hand in marriage to me.”

  “’Tis a different way of looking at the matter. But again I ask you—why did you demand a handfasting instead of a recognized marriage?”

  “Your man stepped into a family problem, one he had no hand in creating and I thought he should not be made to carry the cost of fixing. Aye, a year is a long time to put up with a farce of a marriage, but at least, he kens that there is an end and he can then seek a bride of his choosing.”

  The silence that met her explanation unnerved her more than his previous laughter or sternness. There was more to this than she’d revealed. More even that she could reveal if she wanted to and still not touch on the truth that Duncan discovered in their marriage bed.

  “And you will be free as well,” he said quietly. “Was that your aim all along? Did you play a part in this that Duncan kens not?” His voice may have been soft, but his intention—to find out potential danger to his kin and handle it—was clear and strong.

  “I knew him not before he rode into the village and helped me,” she said through clenched teeth. Always accused and never able to defend herself was something she simply could not let go this time. “He was kind to my daughter. When he was trapped, I thought on the best way to get us both out of it.”

  “I had to ask it, Marian.”

  “He does not deserve this, laird, and he deserves far better a wife than me. Handfasting will let him have at least that.”

  She thought he was done with it until he opened the locked wooden chest and lifted out a small packet. Opening it, he took out one sheet, smoothed it flat and pointed to her. “Does this offer speak of who deserves whom? At least in your brother’s eyes?”

  Why had she not read this before signing it? Marian steeled herself for some shock or surprise in the marriage contracts, but this was not the contract. It was a copy of her father’s will and no amount of warning could have prepared her. She knew she was an heiress, both through her mother and father, but she thought that that had all changed when she was sent away in disgrace. Now, though, the words on the parchment explained in great and specific detail how much she was worth…and it was a tremendous amount. Gold, land, even a claim to an ancient title passed to her by her mother’s family, were all listed there.

  And all of it would be hers and her husband’s on the day her handfasting was made permanent. If that did not happen, it could still be her daughter’s, a legitimate daughter could inherit in her place.

  Oh, what a web of temptation and deceit Iain had woven around the two of them! Paying Duncan a huge amount as a dowry and then dangling the rest in front of his face. What man would not want all of it? What man would not do whatever was necessary to insure that their arrangement became permanent?

  An honorable one, her heart whispered.

  “Does he ken?” she asked.

  “He kens about this gold—” he tilted the chest to reveal several bags within “—but your brother sent this will to me. I have not shown it to him.”

  Marian stood now, the need to get away grew from deep inside her. “Will you?”

  “I know you do not ken the man as I do, Marian, but even all of that would not tempt him to keep you against your will.”

  She turned to go, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should be the one to tell him about this. I will keep it here safe until the day comes when you can trust him enough to tell him.”

  He released her and she ran from the room. His words called out a warning to have a care on the steps, but she heeded him not. How she made it to the bottom she kenned not, but soon she found herself in the one place where she could find calm and control. Heedless of the damage to the borrowed gown, she knelt down on the damp, pungent soil and began tearing out weeds.

  Darkness was falling when she realized she needed to find Ciara and tend to her daughter’s needs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Duncan opened the door to the chambers and smiled. Jocelyn was truly a formidable force in getting things accomplished, even when she needed to do it out of Connor’s sight or knowledge. In the space of a day, she and the other women living in the keep had turned this collection of storage rooms into a chamber that offered both the lass and he and Marian places of privacy. And in the middle was a place they could share.

  By the light of several candles, he spied Ciara’s collection of wooden animals that seemed to grow now by the day. A deer now joined the sheep, pig and horse i
n the pile on the small table in the center of the room. The remnants of a barely eaten meal sat there on a wooden tray.

  Two doors lay slightly opened and he went first to the one that led to the smaller room. Ciara lay cocooned in blankets and sound asleep on the small raised pallet. Tempted to touch her head, he did not for fear of waking her. Pulling the door back to its nearly closed position, he faced the other one.

  Opening it with a care to be quiet, he found Marian in the bed there. But she’d fallen asleep sitting up against the headboard of the bed. Her hair was braided back but some reddish-gold tendrils had loosened and drifted over the edges of her face. The shade of it made her skin look paler than it was but the color also made her look as young as she was instead of much older. The blanket that must have covered her now lay around her hips, exposing her body to him.

  She’d done a good job at hiding her fairness from him and anyone who looked on her. The frumpy gowns, both in color and fit, the dark, muddy hair and the way she carried herself when in company all completed the disguise. Now, though, staring at her in the soft glow of candlelight, he wondered how he’d never seen it. She shifted in her sleep and opened her eyes as she did.

  “Duncan,” she said on a sleepy whisper. “I tried to wait for you.”

  “No matter,” he answered, shaking his head. “You have had a busy and straining day, Marian. Slide down under the blankets and sleep now.”

  Instead she did the opposite, rubbing her eyes and stretching, and, damn it!, his body reacted as he knew it would. ’Twas bad enough that she was a fetching lass, but now she lay with only the thinnest of linen chemises on to cover her attributes from his sight. But his randy body remembered every inch of it.

  And, although they’d not spoken since she’d left Connor’s chambers, he suspected that something had happened between his wife and his laird. She passed him in the corridor and never even took note of him being there. Nearly at a full run, she scampered through the hall and kitchens and outside to the gardens without saying a word to anyone. Once there, she sank to her knees and tore at the weeds.

  He followed only to make certain she was fine, but he stayed because he was not certain she was. Her movements reminded him of a wild creature trapped within a cage. Her fingers moved at a frantic pace and she did not stop for nigh on half-an-hour’s time. When she did, she sat back on her heels and rocked to and fro, with her eyes closed.

  This pattern repeated several times until she simply sat back and stopped. Just when he thought to reveal his presence, Jocelyn’s voice rang out, calling Marian’s name. Connor’s wife waved him off and he returned to his duties knowing that Jocelyn would have a care for her.

  She was not at the evening meal, requesting a tray be sent to their chambers for her and Ciara. Now, she stared at him across the small space and he swore she could see the part of him that waited only for her word.

  “Is this how you pictured it?” she asked, but it took him several seconds to understand that she meant the chambers and their arrangement rather than the sight of her sitting nearly naked in his bed waiting on his arrival.

  “Aye,” he said in a thick voice. Clearing his throat, he repeated, “Aye.” He walked to the corner where his chest of clothing sat and began to take off his belt. His plaid dropped to the floor and then he pulled the long shirt over his head. Walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it, his boots were the last thing to come off.

  “I have not thanked you for bringing Ciara to me last night,” she said.

  “You needed each other, Marian. ’Twas clear to me.” He did not turn yet or try to lift the bedcovers.

  “You did not sleep…in your chambers.”

  She wanted some explanation, he could tell. “I did not wish to disturb you, so I took a walk. I did not sleep…anywhere.”

  “I would understand if you kept a woman in the village, Duncan. I will not make an issue of it,” Marian said, never dreaming that it would anger him.

  “A woman in the village?” He turned and faced her and she could see the anger rising in his face. “What makes you think I would do something like that?”

  “Men of your status frequent other women when they have needs that their wives cannot or will not fulfill. I learned that in my father’s house.”

  He shook his head then and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them the anger seemed gone. “I forget that, in spite of your reputation, you are an innocent.”

  “Not an innocent,” she said, but he shook his head again.

  “Not experienced in the ways of men and women. Aye, some men do have lemans, but I pledged my faithfulness to you when we spoke our vows. Do you not remember?”

  Now it was her turn to shake her head. “I do not remember much of the ceremony. I was too worried over what was to follow.”

  “I demanded faithfulness from you before the ceremony. I thought it only fair to give my promise to you as well.”

  He did lift the bedcovers then and climbed in next to her. Holding them up a bit, he said, “Here now, slide down. Let us enjoy the comfort of our first night in our own bed.”

  Did he mean only to sleep? His body, especially that part of him, seemed ready to join with hers, yet he did not touch her except to guide her down next to him. She felt his arm as he shifted them onto their sides and slid it down over her belly and to her waist, drawing her closer to him. His manhood lay nestled against her buttocks, hot and hard, yet still he did not take her.

  The next touch was unexpected for he reached up and pulled the leather strip from the end of her braid and loosened it. When her curly hair was freed of restraint, he nuzzled his face in it and inhaled the scent of the soap that now floated around them. Then he rested his chin against her shoulder and she could hear the sound of his breathing there.

  After the events of the day—her confrontation with the laird, her complete transformation in appearance, lost hours in the garden then hours spent readying this chamber for him—she should be exhausted. But an awareness filled her body, an anticipation of the pleasure she knew he could give her and the relief and release that his pleasuring brought, and Marian discovered she was disappointed by the thought of only sleeping.

  A few minutes later, when he still had not moved to take her, she whispered to him. “I am ready.”

  That part of him sprang to life, but otherwise her husband did not move. “Lie with me,” she said, pressing against his erection.

  He spoke not a word, but he reached between them and lifted the edge of her chemise to her waist. Then he moved his hardness down until it slid between her thighs and into that place that already felt moist and throbbed as he rubbed its length there. Duncan kept his arm in place, but moved his hand over to touch that place from the front. She lost her breath as he slipped one and then two fingers deep inside her, bringing the wetness out and making her body tighten with pleasure.

  When she tried to turn in his embrace, he held her there, placing his other hand on her breast and teasing the tip of it. She cried out softly as Duncan kissed her neck and then found the sensitive place there with his teeth. The pressure of it, along with his relentless fingers and hands, made Marian ache from the sensations he created in her.

  Then he stopped moving his fingers and only pressed against that tender bud deep within her folds. She reacted by moving against them, but instead of beginning again, he filled her from behind, sliding his length easily into her and pushing until he could go no farther. The pleasure of it nearly overwhelmed her and she reached back to grab his hip and keep him close. The deep chuckle echoed against her ear and then he began to move in earnest against her.

  Each time he pushed deep inside of her, he stroked between the aching folds there, making her gasp. He moved his manhood faster and faster and his fingers kept pace, until she thought she might scream out her release. His mouth suckled the back of her neck, his teeth scraping and biting lightly, but somehow enough to increase all the pressure building within her.

  Fina
lly everything in her tightened and exploded and she fell into all the pleasure waiting there for her. Duncan thrust again and again until she was spent and then withdrew his hardness from her core and released his seed between their bodies. Out of breath and replete with the satisfaction she’d found in his arms, Marian lay unmoving until he recovered. Feeling the wetness on her gathered chemise between them, she asked the question that had plagued her.

  “I ken that men do that with their whores, Duncan. But why do you when you ken I am not?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Spilling your seed like that. Men who worry over whose bairn a whore or loose woman carries do that. Men who think a woman is not worthy to carry a child of theirs do that. The servants who clean this chamber will see it and believe that you have no faith in the wife you have forced them to accept. Word will spread.”

  Duncan tried to gather his scattered thoughts and wits before answering her. He was still unrecovered from her soft plea that led to their joining. He was still unrecovered from their joining, if truth be told, yet she asked a question that he needed to answer.

  A tug at his memory made him realize that he’d done the same thing at the MacCallum’s keep and it had caused her bout of anger that lasted days. Now, with her explanation, he could understand why. He climbed from the bed, pulled the soiled chemise over her head and tossed it into the corner. When he turned to face her, he found her lying on her back, raised up on her elbows, staring at him and waiting for an answer. With her breasts naked before him and her hair curling down over her shoulders, a vision too enticing to resist, he avoided looking at her by sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “If a child is born to us, I have the right to declare us wed or I have the right to determine the child’s fate,” he said, repeating the terms of their handfasting.

  “Aye, Duncan.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “Marian, after seeing you with Ciara, I could never keep your child from you. It would kill you as quickly as cutting out your heart.” He paused, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Yet, I do not think I could give up a child conceived between us.”