Taming the Highlander

He was mindful that she had literally given up her life to save her brother’s. He knew also that she was terrified of him. However, he realized that she controlled her fear and continued to push him on the matter of young Athdar. She might be more offended if she discovered the truth of how she came to be married to the Beast MacLerie and her brother’s part in it.

Reaching the main floor, he strode back to his seat and tore off another piece of bread. It was only a few moments before he noticed the quiet of the room and then saw the shocked faces of those staring at him. They thought he’d imprisoned her? Slamming his fists onto the top of the table, he rose to his feet and let his gaze pass over those in the room.

“You cannot blame them, Connor,” Duncan said. The humor in his friend’s voice did not please him. “You have cultivated your own reputation and use it when necessary. Do not hold it against them that they now believe the worst about you.”

“And you, Duncan?” he asked, taking his seat. “Do you not believe it? Do you think I have imprisoned my wife below, even as I hold her brother?”

“If she continues as she has begun, I think you may wish that you had locked her below.”

Connor nodded, understanding Duncan’s comment completely. In her first day here, she had already caused him to change his mind several times. When he sent Duncan to her father, he envisioned a marriage that would have her in his bed at night and out of his way during the day. He knew undoubtedly that he could never love another woman the way he had loved Kenna and so he accustomed himself recently to the idea of simply marrying to fulfill the clan’s need for an heir. If he did not let himself care for her, if he kept her at a distance, he could guard his heart from ever having to experience the agony of loss again.

Somehow he now knew that this wife was going to be more trouble than he bargained for. As if his thoughts had conjured her up, she entered the hall with Duff at her side. She kept her gaze on the floor as she walked back to the table. Her next action stunned him.

Stopping before him where all could see, she dropped into a deep curtsy with her head bowed and eyes still lowered. Her voice carried throughout the hall, filling the silence with her words.

“Your pardon, my lord. Please forgive my earlier rash behavior in questioning your honor.”

Connor felt his throat tighten and he could not swallow the mouthful of ale he had just taken. He did not sense anything but a sincere apology in her words. That this was done for show was obvious to him, but he knew with a feeling of certainty that it was honestly meant. He swallowed forcefully.

“Join me, lady, and break your fast.”

She rose smoothly to her feet and slid onto the stool next to his chair. He held out a loaf of bread to her and she took it, her fingers brushing his as she lifted it from his grasp. Connor watched as she moved the bowl of now-cooled porridge away and broke off a chunk of cheese instead.

“Ian? Bring the lady another bowl of porridge. Hers has cooled.”

“Nay, Ian. I do not need any more.”

She challenged him again, even while the words of her apology still echoed through the hall. He closed his eyes for a moment and then let out his breath. Glaring at her in her defiance, he repeated his order to the servant once again.

“Is this to be the way of it, then? I give an order and you disobey it?”

Part of him wanted to laugh—at the least, she was no empty-headed ninny as he feared he would be forced to marry. Although his well-developed reputation served him, it also caused women, and some weak-nerved men, to lose their wits around him. If he had to be married, he was inwardly pleased that she did not shrink from him and his every word. But, as laird, he could not, would not, have every order he gave undermined by her.

Jocelyn finally met his gaze and he watched her expression change from defiant to something less disobedient. She pursed her lips and looked as if she was fighting to keep her words in. Good. Let her consider her actions before she took them. He knew she understood him when she moved her bowl over to the side where Ian stood waiting for the outcome.

“Please, Ian,” she said in a quiet voice.

He nodded, satisfied. This could all work out. He finished his meal and engaged Duncan in a discussion about their duties for the day. Connor also took advantage of the time to make a more thorough study of his wife as she sat next to him eating her meal.

She was plain in appearance; her face, eyes and hair were neither exceptional nor unattractive. After Kenna’s extraordinary beauty, Connor did not want another comely wife. She did move with a certain grace as she walked and her form was definitely the better of her attributes. When the sheet she’d held around her had dropped, exposing her bare shoulders and the slopes of her breasts to him, he knew, and his body’s reaction told him, that consummating their union would not be difficult for him. Shifting now in his chair as the memory of her creamy flesh stirred him once more.

As if she felt his scrutiny, their eyes met. Mayhap he had been premature in his assessment of her features, for when her eyes flashed as they did now at him, they were quite attractive. Turning back to face Duncan, he tore his gaze from hers. Aye, ’twould not be difficult after all. Thoughts of her naked beneath him, soon, filled his mind with images that would be better left until later.

“You should see the seamstress today and have some clothes made.”

“I can sew, my lord, and I have clothes…just not with me. Your orders did not allow me time to pack my belongings.”

“Then I will replace them with new since I cannot have the Lady MacLerie wandering through keep and village as I found her this morn.”

Her mouth opened and shut and a becoming blush crept up her cheeks. So, she could be quieted.

“Ailsa will make arrangements for you. If you will excuse me—” he rose and nodded to Duncan who stood next to him “—we must see to our duties.”

They walked quickly from the hall, the heat in his body cooling even as the distance between them grew. Tonight should prove interesting. Tonight she would be his and the marriage would be consummated.

Tonight.

Darkness had fallen some time ago, yet Connor had not shown himself within the keep. Each time she asked one of the servants if this was his habit, she was met with various grunts or nods and she knew no more than before she asked her questions. Realizing that they would not be cooperative with her efforts to learn more about her husband, she finally gave up and sought comfort and privacy in her chamber.

The day had been a frustrating one for her. She visited the seamstresses within the keep and then the cobbler in the village, all under Ailsa’s watchful eye. Her excursion was successful for a few garments were available for her and an additional pair of shoes was found that needed only a few minor adjustments to fit her well enough. Returning with her new possessions, Jocelyn was surprised to find that Connor had not arrived back from his duties. Dinner came and passed and his absence from the hall made her too uncomfortable to eat under the scrutiny of his people. She asked for a tray to be delivered to her in her room and that was where she had spent the last few hours.

Waiting.

Jumping at every noise.

Anticipating the coming night…and him.

She knew that the reprieve granted her last night was over and she would be held to the bargain made. Could she do this? Expecting to marry Ewan, Jocelyn had welcomed and even enjoyed his occasional but fervent kisses. She knew what was expected of a wife in the marriage bed, just not the details of the act itself. She just could not imagine now submitting to this stranger and his desires. She shivered as waves of fear and confusion and curiosity pulsed through her.

Cora, the young girl who had precipitated her misunderstanding with Connor, was back, this time straightening the room and tending to the fire in the hearth. Jocelyn stood by the window, gazing out over the yard. She could see the guards moving up on the main wall in their slow progression around the perimeter. No other movements were apparent to her as she tried to calm the emotions within her.

A soft knock at the door brought her around quickly. Cora opened the door, but instead of her husband, Ailsa entered carrying a pile of linens. The older woman whispered something to Cora and the girl was gone from the room in a few moments. After laying her bundle on the bed, the servant approached her.

“Here now, my lady. I’ve brought ye a fresh gown and a robe. After ye change, I’ll brush out yer hair, if ye’d like?”

Moving without thought, Jocelyn did as Ailsa directed and soon found herself wrapped in a heavy robe and sitting before the fire. The long, slow strokes relaxed her frazzled nerves as she awaited her fate. Would he arrive soon? Would he simply take her and give her no choice in the matter? She shifted nervously on her stool as more and more doubts and concerns came to mind.

“My lady, is there anything ye would like to ask me?”

Jocelyn was startled by the offer and turned to look at the servant. “What do you mean, Ailsa?”

“I thought that mayhap yer own mother did not prepare ye for yer wedding night.”

“Nay, Ailsa, I have no questions for you.”

“Good then. Yer mother told ye what to expect?”

“Well, actually she told me that my husband would tell me what I needed to ken,” Jocelyn whispered, not certain now of the wisdom of such a thing. If it had been Ewan, mayhap, but now that Connor was the one, she wished she knew what was to happen between them.

“If ye’re certain?” Ailsa asked again.

“You heard the lady, Ailsa. Her husband will answer her questions.”

Jocelyn gasped and turned. The sight of Connor, his height and breadth filling the doorway, took her breath from her. She clutched the edges of the robe more tightly and watched as Ailsa nodded at him and moved around him to leave. He stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind him, dropping the bar into place with a noisy thump. She could not move as he approached, her throat tightened and her chest would not take in the air she needed. After no more than three steps, Connor stood before her and she finally raised her gaze to meet his.

“So, lady wife, what is it you wish to ken?”

She fought against the urge to jump up and run across the chamber, seeking some measure of protection and shelter on the far side of the large bed. Jocelyn instead forced her fingers to relax their grip on the handle of her hairbrush. Placing the brush carefully on the table before her, she slid her hands onto her lap and tried to form an answer in her mind.

What did she wish to know? Everything? Nothing? She knew the mechanics of the coming act; that was not what had bothered her since she’d heard the news of her impending marriage. Finally, the question pushed itself forward.

“Why me?”

She did not meet his gaze. Jocelyn was not certain that she wanted to see what would be revealed there. His manner toward her so far had been less than welcoming, even bordering on hostile and contemptuous, but the reason behind their marriage had plagued her.

“I had need of a wife and you were available.”

His voice carried no sign of hostility, no sign that this was more or less than the truth. His explanation spoke of a thing common to lives like theirs—marriages were not made with any regard for the tender feelings of those involved. And the tender feelings that she bore for another had even less importance now.

Jocelyn sensed his movement forward for he made no sound as he approached. Only the crackling of the wood in the hearth broke the tense silence. She turned to face him.

“You do not wish to be married?” She thought ’twas clear from his words and from his treatment of her.

“I have no feelings one way or the other on it. I am laird—I need heirs. For that, I must have a wife.”

“And any woman would do?” She closed her mouth, but the words had escaped. He blinked at her tone and even she could hear the sarcasm in it. This was truly not the time to anger him. His reaction surprised her. His laughter filled the room. Connor looked almost approachable when he smiled.

“Nay, I am more discriminating than that. I asked for a wife who was plain of face and not an empty-headed ninny.”

She gasped in surprise—both that he would think of such requirements and that he would admit them to her. It took only a few moments for her to realize the insult to her appearance in his words and she looked away before he could see the hurt she knew would be there.

“I meant no insult, lady,” he said walking closer. His voice dropped to a whisper as he crouched next to her stool. “I did not want a wife who cowered from me or cringed at my every word. I wanted a wife with gumption.”

“And a plain face?” She lifted the brush from the table, mostly to distract herself from the pain she felt.

“I confess ’twas more of a jest than a true requirement.” Connor reached out and took the brush from her. “Can we move onto something less argumentative?”

The skin on her neck tingled as he lifted some of her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. Would it be now? Was it time?

Chapter Four

“I do not know what to do.”

Horrified that she’d let the words escape her mouth, Jocelyn stepped away from him. His size and strength and nearness unnerved her in so many ways and she needed some distance to keep her fears under control. That he allowed her to move from his grasp surprised her. Once a few paces away, she turned back to look at him.

“I would not expect it of you, lady. Someone who had never milked a cow or slaughtered a hog would not know how to do such a task when it was asked of them.”

Taken aback that he was comparing what would happen between them to the duties of a butcher or milkmaid, Jocelyn felt her mouth drop open. He held out his hand to stop any reply she would make and took a step toward her.

“I can see the argument building within you. Is this to be the way between us in all matters, then? I say something and you contest it?” His gaze grew dark as he spoke and his expression changed from smiling to intense.

Jocelyn considered his words before speaking. It had been that way since their first meeting, then in the hall at their meal, even now. She closed her mouth and found she had no words to answer him. Oh, there was an argument within her as he’d said, but the warmth of the room and his scent crowded around her and she remembered once more what awaited her. The heat of a blush flooded her cheeks and she touched them as she felt it.

“Ah,” he said, walking now to a small table at the bed’s side. He lifted the jug of wine there and poured some into two goblets. “I suspect that the true problem here is an innocent’s fear and not a wife’s challenge to her husband.”

He turned and held one out to her, waiting for her to take it. Jocelyn crossed to him and accepted it. Wine might soothe her nerves a bit and make the rest somehow easier to allow. Not that she had a choice. Her brother’s life, even the very life of her clan, all depended on her agreement to this bargain. If she were sent home in disgrace… She nodded in acceptance of the cup and then realized that she was inadvertently agreeing with his words.

He held his goblet up and drank it down in one mouthful. Over the rim of his cup, he watched as she tilted hers to her lips and drank it down as well. The wine slid into her stomach and she felt its warmth spread out to her limbs. Mayhap more would help ease the fear she did feel? Jocelyn held out her cup.

As he poured more of the wine into her goblet, Connor looked closely at her face. A deep pink filled her cheeks and a bead of sweat trickled down her brow. Aye, the fears of the innocent. In consideration of those fears, he poured a small amount in and handed it back to her. Wine to soothe her nervousness was one thing; a puking woman in his bed was another.

Connor put his own cup down and took a step toward her. The sooner started, the sooner finished, he thought as he reached out and lifted her hair in his hands. The woman nearly stopped breathing so he waited for her to swallow the last of the very strong wine before he came closer. Her cup had just settled on the table when he grasped the belt of her robe and, tugging her closer, pulled it loose. The garment fell away revealing a thin linen gown and her lush figure.

Jocelyn stiffened at first as he slid his hands inside the robe and took hold of her hips. In spite of her stance, she was soft in all the right places and he breathed in the scent of the oil she’d used in her bathwater. She was breathing, a good thing, but she stared off into the room above his shoulder.

“Put your hands on my waist,” he said.

She startled again but met his gaze. “What?”

“You said you knew not what to do. I am telling you. Put your hands on my waist.”

He wore a plain shirt and plaid, but he could feel the heat of her touch through it. And the trembling, which he forced himself to ignore. His body, tempted by the curves so close beneath his hands, readied itself admirably for what was to come. He waited for a moment and then drew her closer, sliding his hands behind her and pressing himself against her.

Her nipples tightened, whether in fear or anticipation he knew not, and he turned her slightly, rubbing his chest over hers. The gasp that escaped left her openmouthed, but he would not touch her there. Instead he leaned in to her and kissed the edge of her chin, and then kissed along the line of her jaw until he reached her neck. When her breathing became ragged and her fingers clutched at his waist, he knew he could proceed.

Connor released her from his grasp and lifted her hair from her shoulders. He kissed her neck and her ear and wrapped her hair around his fist, turning her head for easier access to the sensitive areas he discovered. He took the edges of the robe and slipped them off her shoulders. When she let her hands drop to her side, he pushed the robe to the floor.

Whether instinctual or simply protective, Jocelyn tried to cover her breasts as his gaze moved over her from top to bottom. She most likely had no idea of what the flickering light of the candles set around the room did reveal to him. The dark triangle at the top of her thighs enticed him to reach for it, but he waited. Stepping behind her, he began again at her neck, kissing and touching with his tongue and nipping gently with his teeth.

Waiting for some sign of resistance and receiving none, Connor moved the linen of her shift away from her neck and kissed the heated skin of her shoulder. She trembled now beneath his touch and her breathing became a series of gasps as he slid his hands around her waist and up until they rested just below her breasts. She leaned back against him and he took advantage of that movement to cup her and draw her back tightly. Jocelyn’s head fell back against his chest and he suckled there, on the sensitive skin of her neck as he touched her breasts.

She’d been kissed before. Aye, she’d even allowed Ewan to touch her breasts once, but nothing that had happened between them could have prepared her for this. In spite of the lack of love or even familiarity between them, this man was teasing and tempting her body in ways she’d never imagined. Her head had fallen back on its own to rest against the hardness of his chest once he covered her breast with his hands.

The sensations that his mouth created against her skin simply intensified the tightness in her breasts and the heat between her legs. The heat and the aching between her legs. And the wetness there. His fingers now teased the tips of her breasts to a tautness she’d not felt before and he cupped her in his hands and used his thumbs over them, rubbing and rubbing until they were hard.

It made her want…something. Something more. Jocelyn waited and hoped he would reveal the more of what they did before she asked him about it. Not knowing what to do now, she twisted the fabric of her gown and held it in her fists.

His hands were moving again and she held her breath as they slid down her thighs and caught the end of her shift. He tugged it higher and higher until she felt the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. He moved one hand back up until he held her firmly against him, over her stomach and cupping her breast. The other he used to caress the skin of her thighs and she bit her lip when he touched her belly just above.

The roughness of his tunic and plaid against her naked bottom and back and the strength in his arms and chest and legs as he held her in place intrigued her, for they were so different from the touch of his hand and his fingers as they approached the place that ached now. She could almost forget that this man was a stranger to her. That she was forced by obligation and need to marry him and not Ewan.

Ewan!

It should be him touching her so. She should be giving herself in this intimate touching and joining to the man who loved her and cherished her. Not to this stranger.

Everything within her tensed as she realized that by the end of this night all of her dreams would be gone. All hopes for a marriage made in love with a man whom she chose were gone. All hopes for living a life within a family who cherished her and appreciated her were over. Once this man, her husband, claimed her body, there was no hope.

She realized that he felt the change within her, for his hold on her tightened around her. His hands, which she now clutched in hers, stopped their sensual strokes and, although he kept his mouth near her neck, she could feel only the warmth of his breath and not his lips now. Jocelyn waited for his response.

“Hush now,” he whispered. “I mean you no harm.”

She allowed him to turn her to face him and met his intense gaze. His eyes flickered gold in the candlelight and the flames in the hearth threw shadows across the hard angles of his face. After feeling the strength of his arms while in his embrace, she knew that everything about this man was hard. Only his voice and his plea came softly to her.

“Come, let me do this the right way for a bride,” he urged in a velvety tone as he lifted her hand in his and led her to the side of the bed.

Once there, he leaned over and, with little effort, picked her up and laid her on the bed. As she watched, he loosened his belt and let his plaid fall to the ground. Jocelyn could not help herself as she looked down at the strong thighs now exposed below his tunic. She leaned against those thighs while he…touched her and knew the feel of them. Swallowing nervously, she returned her gaze to his face just as he climbed into the bed with her.

He had not bothered to pull the covers from the bed, so they lay on top and Connor moved over until he could stretch out next to his now-unwilling bride. She had not voiced her objections, but her body had told him with a certainty that they had reached an impasse in their trek toward consummation. Connor now faced the difficult task of stirring her passion anew so they could accomplish this duty and get on with their lives.

“Easy now,” he whispered to her as he put his hand on her leg and began to push her shift up inch by inch. He shifted onto his side so that he could lean up on his one hand while he rubbed her thigh with the other. When she did not soften beneath his touch, he changed his approach. She had liked the attention he’d paid to her breasts as much as he had. He would begin there.

Connor leaned over and touched his mouth to the tip of her breast, nuzzling it through the thin shift. He took her fullness in his palm and rubbed his thumb over the damped tip again and again until it formed a perfect bud against his mouth. Then he suckled it until he felt the tension in her begin to seep away.