by Terry Spear
Isobel lowered his hand between her legs so that he would pleasure her there, and then began to kiss his mouth. She loved his mouth and the way he slid his tongue into hers, the way he nibbled on her lips, and kissed her all over. She still remembered that day at the loch when he had first kissed her and she had wanted the rest of what he could give her.
With his touches, she was burning for him, craving the intimacy and she was so afraid he’d want to stop.
He stroked her between her legs and made her feel deliciously wicked and loved and all his. God, how she cherished the way he touched her, eager to please her. She caressed his whiskery cheek and teased his tongue with hers. His hand went again to her breasts, and she loved that he wished to feel them, just as she craved the sensation of his touch. Until now. Because of the tenderness in them, she sought to distract him by touching his shaft. Her diverting his attention in such a manner had worked the last two days when he had wanted to feel her breasts, to kiss them, and lick her nipples. It worked this time, too. Besides, she loved wrapping her hand around his rigid staff and stroking him. She relished seeing the way his blue eyes clouded with lust, and hearing him moan at her touch.
He started to stroke her in that sensitive spot between her legs again, touching her, lifting her to the heavens above, ecstatic to feel that all-consuming pleasure driving her higher. She was grateful that part of her was not tender and sore, but eager for his ministrations.
She rose so high until she hit the peak and felt as if she was flying off the goose down mattress right before he plunged his staff into her. She loved feeling him inside of her, the connectedness, the closeness, the intimacy.
She rode a new wave of high, wanting them to be like this always, even after they were old and gray.
Marcus loved making love to his wife, but he knew things had changed between them. She no longer wanted him to touch her breasts, but they seemed plumper and he loved touching them. Not wanting to ask her in the middle of their lovemaking, he would question her later when they were resting afterward. He wanted only to please his wife in every way as much as she pleased him.
For now, he plunged his staff deep into his lady wife’s welcoming, warm, wet sheath, felt her near the verge of coming again as her fingers dug into his hips, and he continued to drive forth. He loved these early morning wake-ups, though they usually didn’t start out with a bath. Today was special because today he was marrying his bonny lass in the kirk.
Her long, dark tresses spilled across her pillow, her blue eyes filled with awe, her face flushed with pleasure, she couldn’t look any more beautiful than she did this moment.
This time, he really tried to hold back, tried to make this last longer. He slowed down to savor the moment, valuing this intimate time spent with her, then gave up the battle as his seed spilled inside her. She tensed, gripped his hips with her fingers, and he rubbed against her until she cried out with pleasure.
His thirst for her slaked—for the moment—he sank down on top of her, then moved off her, pulling her into his arms. In the past, she nestled against him without any trouble, but now she seemed to have to be…well, careful, the way she rested on top of him. He caressed her arm as she resituated herself again, appearing to attempt to get comfortable.
“Are you feeling all right, lass?” He couldn’t help his concern that he had done something wrong, or she’d labored at something recently and injured herself.
“Oh, aye. ‘Tis a wondrous day.” She was so cheerful, he wondered if he imagined her discomfort.
“You seem to be… sore. Have I hurt you in some way? Or made you feel uncomfortable?” He hated to think she didn’t like him touching her breasts any longer. They were remarkable and he loved kissing them and more.
“Oh, Marcus, do not treat me any differently, I beg of you.”
“What is the matter?” He began to sit up, but she pushed him back down and cuddled with him.
He sighed and caressed her back, her long hair cascading over his chest.
“We are going to have a bairn.”
In disbelief, he stared at her. Then he grinned, so thrilled to hear the good news, he bolted upright again, taking her with him. “When? Why didna you tell me?”
“To begin with, I was uncertain. I was going to ask Mary. But I am certain of it now.”
He kissed Isobel and held her tight, then let loose of her. “You are hurting.”
She cupped her breasts lightly. “They are growing and I am a little tender. I do not want you to treat me any differently. Some husbands no longer bed their wives when they are carrying a wee one. I do not want you to—”
“I would never neglect you. Near the end, we will have to stop, but you are a Highland lass, and in the Highlands, we dinna stop. By the heavens, I couldna be more thrilled at the news. Ah, lass, you dinna know how much this means to me.”
She smiled and he kissed his loving wife, thanking God that was all that had concerned her. He couldn’t wait to tell all of his kin. “When can we tell the clan?”
She raised her brows. “Mayhap after we are married in the kirk? At the celebration?”
“It will kill me to keep the secret.” It would. He was certain they’d guess it when they saw him fussing over his wife and grinning like a fool. “Aye, you have my word. Do you no’ think the maids who attend to you know already?” If they knew, everyone else already knew. Then he wouldn’t have to wait to tell the clan.
“Mayhap. If they helped me to dress and saw me wince, they might have realized it.”
He nodded and looked down at his sweet wife. “I can love you no more than I do now.” Then he kissed her again and hugged her gently.
“I love you, Highlander. Now, and for always.”
A knock on the door startled Isobel and she jumped a little in his arms.
“Aye?” Marcus called out.
“Guests have begun to arrive. Our Chattan cousins, Gunnolf, Angus, our uncle. And, just so the lass knows,” Rob said beyond the door, “Oona had her pups.”
“Oh.” Isobel quickly scrambled out of the bed to get dressed.
Marcus laughed. “We will be down shortly.”
“Aye, I will let everyone know.”
Marcus helped Isobel to dress. “She likely willna want you seeing her pups for a couple of days, lass.”
“Nay. I have been with her several times a day. It was the same with my father’s deerhounds, and the mother let me see her and her pups, though she hid her pups afterward. Oona will trust me. I will not touch them until they are older and she is agreeable.”
They were soon dressed, much quicker than he had ever seen Isobel dress. Once they left the chamber, she practically raced down the stairs. She was about to head to the kennel when Ulicia’s children, Druce and Fiona, came out of the kitchen and tackled her with hugs. Marcus was both surprised and glad to see the lass and lad.
“Druce, Fiona,” Isobel said, smiling. “Are your mother and other brothers here? And is she well now?”
“Aye, she is well. And Da is with us.” Druce beamed with the news.
“Da?” Marcus said, and the children looked up at him until he motioned to them to give him hugs also. They quickly obliged. Their exuberance pleased him and he thought how someday he and Isobel would cherish their own bairns just like this.
“Leith took our mother to wife.” Fiona sounded as proud as could be.
Marcus laughed, glad that Leith had found a family to care for. Then he saw Leith and Ulicia with the two younger boys headed their way. “You are here for the wedding?”
“Aye, and to stay, if it is all right with you.” Leith was holding each of the younger lads’ hands in his. He looked like a proud da.
Ulicia looked just as cheered.
“Aye, we are happy to have you home again.”
Edana and the rest of the Chattan kin headed their way, but this time Edana went to hug Isobel first. “I am so happy to see you again.” She threw her arms around her and gave her a light hug. “Come, we m
ust talk before the wedding.”
As soon as they were alone in the misty, cool gardens, Edana walked hand in hand with Isobel as if they had always been sisters, which Isobel dearly loved.
Edana cleared her throat. “I have to tell you the news. I am carrying our first bairn. I knew way before I…really knew, but anyway, I have this, well, gift, and I learned that our bairns will be playing together when they are wee young’uns and that means…”
Isobel stared at her, not quite understanding Edana’s meaning. “How did you know? About me? I have not told anyone. Yet.”
“I have this gift, you see…”
***
Before her father and Mary arrived with their escort, Isobel was so excited to see Oona with her pups, she could barely contain her enthusiasm as she made her escape from everyone and slipped into the kennel. Oona allowed her to see all five before tucking them underneath her legs in a protective way.
Isobel was so engrossed with seeing Oona and her pups, she didn’t realize that her father and Mary had arrived until she heard all the commotion in the inner bailey. She hurried out of the kennel to greet them.
She gave her father a hug first, tears filling her eyes. “Father,” was all she was able to choke out. To think if John had his way, her father would not be here now.
“There, there, daughter. It is a happy occasion—your marriage to the man you love, just as it was when I married your mother. I am glad to be here and to see…” Her father glanced around at the castle. “Your accommodations.”
“I was just checking on the deerhound’s new pups,” she said, smiling.
He shook his head. “You will spoil the hunting hounds here now instead of mine.”
She laughed and turned to hug Mary who was just as teary-eyed. But Mary’s jaw dropped when Isobel hugged her so lightly and not exuberantly like she would normally do after being separated for so long.
“Are you…?”
Isobel grinned and nodded.
Mary quickly looked at Isobel’s father.
“For heaven’s sake, what now?” He frowned, then his brows shot up. He seized Isobel’s arm and headed toward the kirk. “Let us get this wedding over with now.”
The celebration was an extravagant affair as Marcus had made sure that everyone would have the opportunity to feast and make merry for several days. The announcement at the first of the feasts that they had a bairn on the way was met with enthusiastic cheers.
He had enjoyed dancing with his wife, and even slipped into the kennels with her to quietly check on Oona and her pups. What he witnessed was nothing less than a miracle. Oona, the pups, Isobel here with him, adoring them, and him adoring her. Even more wondrous—his own bairn on the way.
When they returned to the great hall, Lord Pembroke took Marcus and Isobel aside while pipers played in the background. Many of his people danced, drank, and talked as Lord Pembroke said, “I had planned to allow you to marry my daughter before I was left for dead, I wished you to know.”
Marcus stared at him slack-jawed.
“Aye. You see, in the last missive you sent, you said something that really resonated with me. You said how much my wife had cherished me and how she gave up her close family, her home, and the rest of her kin to be with me. That she loved me for who I was, for how I handled the Scots at the border, for how I made her feel special, just as she made me feel. There was not a day that went by that I did not think of her when we were separated, or when I had seen her at the first, and wished to see her again. ‘Twas not the same as the way she had felt about MacLauchlan.”
“Her being with him had been a mistake,” Marcus said.
“Aye. So I intended to send you a missive that said you were welcome to court my daughter and if she chose you, I would be agreeable.”
“I have saved you the trouble.” Marcus grinned.
“Aye. I wish I had seen that my nephew was not the man to take my place. Had Isobel been a son…”
Isobel smiled and reached across Marcus to pat her father’s arm. “You would have had a worse time of it.”
He chuckled. “Think you I do not know all that you were up to? Swordplay with Marcus and his cousins? Bow hunting? Fishing? And all manner of other unladylike behaviors.”
“Mary told on me?”
“Nay. I had men watching out for you. They reported all that you had done.”
“You… you never objected to it.”
“I loved your mother. She had grown up just the way you had. How could I not love seeing you turn out as beautiful as her? So, nay, I could not keep you from doing that which made you the person you have become today. Marcus and his cousins were always careful with you and protective. Though my own men were there watching out for your welfare, they said they trusted in Marcus to keep you safe.”
Lord Pembroke cleared his throat. “I…I apologize for sending Marcus away the day he was injured. I had learned that, for the first time, he had kissed you at the loch and I feared, especially after the way you danced with him, that you would end up like your mother had—with MacLauchlan.”
“MacLauchlan was married! And Marcus was not. He wished to marry me.”
“Aye, and I was not ready to listen to reason.” Lord Pembroke took a heavy breath. “John’s younger brother, Rian, has handled things nicely. He has my gift of persuasion. He has already helped me to quell two skirmishes with just a couple of talks.”
“What of John?”
“He is dead. By his own hand. He knew for trying to murder me, he would not live long. He took the coward’s way out.”
She didn’t feel any pity for the man. If he’d been decent, he could have had everything, but her. Then she wondered about the dowry. Would her father give it to Marcus? Mayhap not, because he had taken her to wife without getting her father’s approval.
“Yet, if he had waited, he could have taken your place in a legitimate way,” Marcus said.
Lord Pembroke shook his head. “He was a hothead. He could not wait to take my place, once he learned I was entertaining the notion of allowing Isobel to wed you and allow him to have the earldom and properties at some future date.”
“What about Lord Fenton?” Marcus asked.
“I turned the matter over to King Henry. One of the knights that Lord Fenton murdered, King Henry himself had knighted. I received word that Lord Fenton and the men who helped him are in a small, filthy cell.”
He deserved worse, after what he had done to both Marcus and to the good men who served as her escort. “Good. What about Jane?” Isobel asked.
“After what she did to Sir Travon? No one trusted her any longer, and she had to find a position with another household.”
“I still do not understand what John would have gotten from Lord Fenton should he have handed me over to him.” Isobel thought how bad it would have been for her if she had become his wife.
“Lord Fenton knew John had killed…or thought he had killed me. He threatened him with reporting it to the king if John did not give up both you and your dowry to him. He knew he had lost the earldom, but at least he would have had you. Should John have ever died unexpectedly? And you gave birth to a son in the meantime?”
“Lord Fenton would have taken over the earldom in our son’s name. We had considered such,” Isobel said.
“When men like that have no scruples, no telling how the game would end up playing out.”
“And Cantrell? What part did he have in all this?” Isobel asked.
“He would do anything for money. Sell his soul if he had one. As soon as he overheard I had given Lord Wynfield the order to have a couple of men send Laird McEwan on his way, Cantrell sneaked out to warn Fenton’s mercenaries. He was to witness the deed, then let Fenton know that Laird McEwan was dead. Fenton would have had his men get rid of the laird’s body, and no one would have been the wiser.” Her father took a swig of his ale.
“But Marcus did not die.” Isobel squeezed Marcus’s hand, thankful to God that he had managed to fight of
f the three men and survive his injury.
“Nay. But Cantrell could not tell Fenton right away that Laird McEwan killed his mercenaries. And he thought for certain as wounded as the laird was, he would not make it very far and die from his injury. The mercenaries were to take care of the body, only now they were dead. Fenton had to take care of all of them, finish the laird off, also. So he sent one of his men to see what happened, and he discovered the slaughter. He moved two of the mercenaries’ bodies before Lord Wynfield arrived with men, searching for Laird McEwan. At that point, Fenton could do no more to cover up his foul deed.”
“What has become of Cantrell?” Marcus asked.
“Hanged for the traitor he was.”
Lord Pembroke sighed. “I sent a missive to Laird Laren MacLauchlan, explaining about my dear wife losing her first bairn, that was his, but I do not know if anyone can even read in his clan. Even if someone can, it will not guarantee he will believe me. As to a more important matter, I do not want you traveling all that way to see me, daughter. When the time comes, I will visit with you and the wee one.”
Isobel smiled and gave him a hug.
“You have not asked me about Isobel’s dowry.” Her father eyed Marcus with genuine compassion.
“Under the circumstances…”
“Under the circumstances, the lady’s dowry is yours, and I would hope that when you have a daughter, you will save it for her.”
“We thank you.” Marcus clapped his hand on Lord Pembroke’s shoulder, and the older man smiled. “And welcome you into the clan.”
Her father looked pleased to hear it, and nodded, smiling a little. “Now about the hunt scheduled for the morn,” her father said to Marcus as though he was talking to his new son about more important business, and he walked off with him as Marcus gave her a wink over his shoulder.
Edana and Mary quickly joined her.
“So tell us, Mary,” Edana said. “You took care of Isobel when she was a wee bairn, aye? But you also cared for her mother when she was carrying a bairn in her belly. What can we expect?”
Mary smiled with such joy, Isobel knew then if she had any reservations about starting over in a new household, she didn’t now.
