Her nightgown was not one he had seen before. It was a silky, gossamer thing that floated like thistledown and was so sheer he saw her body. His heart began to race while his eyes ran over her from glossy mass of hair tumble over her shoulders to her slender body down to her bare feet on the wooden floor.
Mesmerized, he slid his hand from her hair, to her neck to her shoulders and down to her arm. When he did find his voice, it was rough and scratchy, “What’s this?”
“It’s one of the last remnants of me schooling days at Edina,” she said. “Father had it made so I’d nay look so apart from the other wealthy girls there. It’s made of silk. Dae ye like it?”
Daring to touch the soft material, Ethan nodded, “Very much.” brushing his knuckles down the front, right over her nipples and she sucked in a breath.
“Confound it,” he cursed under his breath, dipped to the hem of the dress and pulled it over her head and draped it over a chair. She was bare beneath it. “Ye’ll be the death of me, love.”
Framing her face, he kissed her, liberally breathing in her scent that sparked his desire. Slanting his head, his kiss was slow but enough to have her sinking her fingers into his bared back. As she pressed against him, her skin met his and while he groaned, she sighed.
Her arms looped around his neck and he slid his to her hips. She kissed him back with the slow, smoldering fervor that had him backing her to the bed. Instead of lowering her down to it, he pulled away, spun and laid himself down. Violet straddled him and bowed her head over his, and he swept her hair away from her eyes.
Rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb, he voiced a question more to himself than towards her, “What did I ever ken I’d need anything in a woman more than what ye’ve given me?”
“I should be asking ye the same,” she replied, “I dinnae ken what the future days might bring, but I dae have this time with ye and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right now, with ye, in yer arms.”
With his stomach clenching in knots, he softly tumbled her unto the mattress, rolling on top of her to kiss her jaw, sliding down to her neck. Her skin was as smooth the discarded silk and though the fear of marking her skin with his rough touch, he dug his fingers into her hips and kissed down her chest. Suckling her breast, he felt the urge to give her everything, to worship his lover like a peasant offering homage to a goddess.
Lifting off her, her slowly turned her on her belly, taking a moment to observe her pert backside and the smooth curve of her back. His fingers danced over her spine, loving how she shivered under his touch. Her skin glowed under the firelight as he bent to kiss every knot of her backbone. Violet swept her hair from her neck and twisted to look at him.
“What are ye—ah,” she hissed as he kissed the dip in her spine.
Sliding his hand up her inner thigh, she shifted and opened her legs enough for him to touch her dewy wetness. Kissing her hip, he softly turned her on her back. Arching slightly on the sheets, Violet stole his breath. There was nothing he would not do, give up, or sacrifice for her and the heaviness of his love sat like a mountain on his chest.
Lying beside her, he angled her head to him and kissed her languidly while the need to join her was making lust heat his blood. He drank her kisses like a parched man, wanting more. Grasping her hip, he cocked her leg over his waist and with his hand circling her thigh, he slid his fingers inside her warm heat, yearning to seal their bodies together.
She shivered and he felt her warm breath on his cheek before she hooked her hand behind his neck before she pulled away to his cheek, jaw, and the underside of his neck. Her hair tickled him as he pulled his fingers from her and held her knee-high on his waist.
Slowly, he entered her, keeping her knee on his hip as he came flush against her bottom. Violet sealed a heated kiss to his lips and flexed her hips against his. Taking the cue, he held the curve of her knee as leverage for his slow thrusts.
Rarely did his part from hers, just for him to kiss her neck or nip at her jaw. Her breathy cries were in his ears, tiny mewls of pleasure that dipped to the primal part of his nature. It was indescribable: the heat of her body in his arms, the soft rub of her skin against his and the pleasure spiking through every limb of his body from their joining but nothing compared to the swelling of his soul.
“Yes, love,” he rasped, “Move with me, let me feel ye.”
Violet was beginning to quake under his touch, her body tightening and her gasps were getting shorter. He shifted his angle and hilted himself, and reveling in her tremors.
“Let it out, love,” he kissed her cheek, “Let me hear ye.”
His words kicked off her completion as she seized around him, as she came, shivering in his hands and crying out sweetly. He held her close, drinking in her pleasure but knew he was not able to follow her. Quickly, he pulled himself from her with a growl and finished in his hand.
Holding her close, he felt pride at her pounding heartbeat and the tiny shivers against his body. When her breathing calmed and she looked at him with a dazed smile, his chest puffed with pride.
“Ye’ve outdone yerself,” Violet breathed on his chest.
“Have I?” He teased. “I ken I can dae better.”
She lightly struck his chest, “I dinnae have yer stamina, sir, ye’ll kill me with yer kind loving.”
Rubbing her back, Ethan smiled, “I wouldnae want that…” he felt her rub her cheek against his chest and, in a startling flash of realization that he did not need the perfect moment or peace to ask her the question resting on his heart, he tilted her head up and smiled at her querying look, “Violet…will ye marry me?”
“Is this a jest?” She asked but he heard the tremors of hope in her voice.
“I would never jest about this,” he said, “I truly dae want ye to be me wife.”
She pushed him to lay on his back as before placing a hand on his chest and balancing over him. With a deep searching look, Violet probed his eyes for any hint of a hoax but he kept his gaze still and unwavering.
“Yer…serious, arenae ye?” she whispered.
“More than I have ever been in me life,” he pressed. “Marry me, Violet.”
Cupping his cheek, she leaned forward until her forehead rested on his and in the barest whisper, said, “Aye, I’ll marry ye.”
With a relieved laugh, he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss.
21
She felt Ethan’s kiss as he rose before dawn but did not move as she was too contented. Barely opening her eyes to slits, Violet watched as he gathered his clothes to go to the river. A swift glance to the window told her it was still heavily dark.
“Be careful,” she murmured sleepily, turning on her belly to lay on the warm spot he had just moved from.
The bed dipped and he knelt over her, kissing the curve of her shoulders, “I’m always careful, love and ye should be too. Remember what I said about using Shadow.”
“Aye,” she turned her head to look at him. “Gut anyone who isnae ye.”
“I ken I said, use it without remorse if anyone but me comes in,” he chuckled, dropping another kiss on her cool skin.
“It’s the same thing,” she replied, angling her head to him, “Hurry back.”
“Aye, but first,” he said rolling her over and pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss to pull away. She smiled at the pleased look resting in his eyes. “Now I’m all set. Take care, mo chridhe.”
“Ye, too,” Violet whispered.
Turning back to rest, she heard the back door close but in her inner mind, she could see Ethan going to saddle his horse and walk him to the front before going down to the river. He would bathe and let the horse drink before setting off on his journey. Ethan MacFerson, the man she loved and who was going to be her husband.
It still felt so surreal, like a dream where she had not fully woke up from. But it was real and felt so right. Smiling onto the sheets, Violet replayed the moments of last night, and stayed on the moment when Ethan had whispered those wond
erful words.
His eyes had glittered and his embrace had been warm. They made love again, resulting in her drifting off to sleep in sweet exhaustion. Lingering in bed until her stomach began to rumble, Violet rose to feel warm sunlight streaming through the window. She cleaned up quickly and went to make some porridge with the last of the milk they had carried.
She ate and made to give the horse some water but stopped at the doorway only to smile. The horse’s head was down in a bucket. Sagging on the frame, she shook her head softly.
He kent of everything.
Backing into the main room, she puttered around, straightening the bed, fixing the sacks and sweeping the floor. There was not much food so she could not cook anything until Ethan came back. With the broom’s handle grasped loosely in her hand, she looked around the humble, simplistic room.
There was nothing special about it, no lovely walls covered with artistic molding, nothing was edged with gold and there were no fine rugs on the floor. The lawn outside wasn’t filled with blooming roses or bushes but held shrubs with little purple buds. This modest cottage felt more precious to her than a palace made of crystal.
Placing a chair at the back window, she braced her arms on the window sill, and laid her head on her crossed arms. Breeze, laden with the scent of the river and wildflowers flittered across her face. As her eyes drooped with the serenity around her, she whispered, “I wish this all would be over so we can be happy without all this fear.”
* * *
Riding into Turren, Ethan felt the small tug of anxiety pull at him. He had not wanted to leave Violet alone but they needed food for the next few days. He was not going to let his betrothed to want for anything when he could provide it. He felt the urge to turn back and go back to the cabin tugging at him so he hurried to the market.
Not bothering to haggle about the prices, he agreed to whatever was asked and filled his sack with roasted meat and fish, loaves of baked bread, cheese, and refilled the skins of milk. It felt tedious watching the man painstakingly fill the skins. His left foot was tapping and his molars were grinding at the back of his mouth. But he still waited until the skins were bulging with milk. He passed the coin over before the goods were handed over him.
Rushing back to the tethered horse, he hiked upon the horse’s back and was strapping it in, when the hairs on the back of his head rose and cold worry snaked through him. Looking around, he did not see anything out of place or anyone facing his way, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
“Shouldnae have left her alone,” he cursed himself under his breath.
Spurring the horse into a run, he took the forest road faster back towards home than he had taken it that morning. He was traveling at nearly break-neck speed but the distance felt longer and it was not until he broke through the wood and he headed to the cabin that his anxiety lessened.
But the moment he rounded the bend towards it—his fear tripled in strength. A strange horse was there, lingering at the front steps, casually munching on grass. Panicked, Ethan launched off the horse and leaped the few steps to kick the door in, fearing what he might find. Violet broken body coated with blood on the stone floor—
He jerked to a stop as he saw her sitting on a chair with a man wearing his father’s colors there, one he knew as Adair Rogan, standing rigidly and looking grim-faced. Violet was holding a letter in her hand.
“Ethan!” she darted up. “Ye came back—”
Grabbing and pushing her behind him, Ethan asked the man, “What is yer business here, Mister Rogan?”
“I’ve come on behalf of yer Uncle, Master MacFerson,” the man said, looking at him then over his shoulder to Violet. “Yer faither’s been missing for the past two days, and Mister O’Cain as well. He’s requesting ye come home immediately, perchance something would happen to ye as well.”
Now, the worry that has rested on his chest, began to gnaw hotly at his gut. Swallowing tightly, he looked at Violet who was pale-face and grim. “I dinnae ken we have a choice. We should go.”
Answering him with a curt nod, she went to get her sack and his. Ethan saw the Rogan’s eyes flick to the one bed with a curious look on his face but mercifully, he did not say a word. While Violet arranged their things, he went to get her horse ready. Cold dread was settling inside him and chilling into a block of ice the hot fear he had felt on the way back to the cabin. The grim reality that his father—and Violet’s—could be dead was looming above him like a brewing thunderstorm.
Quickly he had her horse saddled and led it to the front where Violet and Rogan were already assembled. Without a word—and he did not think he could speak if he tried as his tongue felt cleaved to the roof of his mouth— he helped her onto the pacing horse and mounted his.
“Lead the way, Mister Rogan,” Violet called over.
* * *
Arriving at the MacFerson castle did not give her the relief she had expected to have on coming back. All along, she had hoped her father and the Laird would have found the man, sent him to execution and send for them to come back to him in peace. Now, all she felt was dread.
Arenae days that hold bad news supposed to be gloomy, foreboding and bleak?
Instead, the sun was bright, its rays cheery and warm, but having no strength to pierce through the cold blanket of trepidation she felt tied around her.
Ethan’s tight-jawed and thin-lipped expression still had not shifted from the moment they had ridden out from the cabin. She knew what he was feeling as the same emotion was resting on her chest.
How is it that nay one has seen our faithers?
The castle was the same familiar dark brick but she knew that inside it, no one was the same. How could they be with their Laird missing for two days? As she was helped off the horse, she saw Mister MacFerson come striding out of the broad doors, his browed knitted into a tight line.
“Nephew,” he said, tone gruff and laden with anxiety, “I dinnae want this to be why ye were called back home.” he swallowed while resting his hands on Ethan’s shoulders, “I never in my faintest imagination would have kent this was how it was going to end.”
“It nae at its end yet,” Ethan said. “Nay until we find me—our—faither’s, only then will it end.”
Feeling as if she had drifted into the background, Violet was surprised when the Laird’s brother spoke to her, “Welcome back, Miss O’Cain, but I wish it would be on happier circumstances.”
“Thank ye, Mister MacFerson,” she bowed her head.
“I’ll have someone show ye to yer room, as I must speak to Ethan,” the older man nodded. “Kenning me brother is missing, we have placed more guards all around the castle. We’ll call ye for dinner, if ye choose to nae eat in yer room, that is.”
Shooting an apprehensive look at them, she replied, “I understand.”
Before she moved off, she reached out and held Ethan’s hand, giving it a good reassuring squeeze. Mister MacFerson’s eyes were on them, but she could not care any less. Soon, the whole castle would know of their engagement, but first, they had to see through finding their fathers.
The guard, was a familiar one, Mister MacTrye, who gave her a cordial nod, “Welcome back, Miss O’Cain.”
“Nay the best situation to be back in,” she said while entering the main entranceway and taking the stairs, “But thank ye, it’s good to see ye again.”
Entering the old room, she dropped her sack and pushed the window open to banish the musty, trapped air froom the room. Leaning on the sill, she began to consider, what was going to happen if they did not find the two men alive. Would Ethan inherit the lairdship instantly or would his uncle take over for a time?
Taking a window seat, she began to muse. Her father had said the killer was probably close to them, which meant, either he had tracked down the killer, and both of them had gone to confront him, or he had taken the Laird out into hiding to draw the murderer to them. If it was the latter, they could be somewhere secure and would be found safe and sound. B
ut if not…she began to nibble on her lip worriedly.
She could see her father acting out a plan like that one, but if they had been hiding out and the killer had found them… She felt her heart start to pound in worry. God forbid! Her worry about his father was as deep as the one she had for her own, but as she considered the notion, a surety rested in her chest that her father would not have let the Laird slip away while he had vowed to protect him.
If Ethan lost his father so close to his murdered brother, and to be suddenly shoved into leading a whole territory, with hundreds of people relying on him amid so much grief, she was not sure he would stand strong.
At least, I’ll be by his side when we’re married.
* * *
It was extremely distracting for his uncle to speak to him in his father’s meeting room. He could barely focus on what his uncle was saying as his mind was preoccupied with thinking—and worrying—about his father.
The Highlander's Captured Bride (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 21
