A Highlander's Home Page 11

  Leith made his way towards her. “My lady, it is customary that when your husband and Laird enter the room, you rise to meet him.”

  “Hmmm? Oh. Sorry.”

  She dropped her embroidery as she rose. She and her lady both bent to retrieve it and knocked heads. Both ladies fell to the ground, each clutching their foreheads.

  Leith offered each of them his hands and helped them to their feet, stifling his laughter. That she even rose at all, and did not fight him or his customs was a good sign.

  Raine’s lady said, “Forgive me, my lord.”

  He nodded and released her. “Are ye well?”

  She nodded and glanced at Raine, who was a deep shade of red.

  “Are ye well, lass?” he asked her.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, fine. Just a slight bump.” She rubbed it and flinched.

  He offered her his arm. “Would ye care to walk with me a bit? ‘Tis a beautiful day and much too fine to be wasted alone.”

  The ladies behind her fairly aaaaaaaahhhed in unison. Raine rolled her eyes at them, and turned to Leith. His eyes were bright, his features stern, but she sensed it was all a façade. He was ready to burst with laughter.

  “Oh, you big brute. Let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the room.

  The ladies were left behind, mouths open at their mistress’s lack of manners, and were stunned further when deep, masculine laughter burst out of the hallway and did not stop until the couple reached the great hall.

  “You can stop laughing now. It wasn’t that funny.” She rubbed her bump lightly.

  He pushed her hand away and perused her scalp. The slightest mound appeared. “Ye’re no worse for wear. Ye will survive.”

  She batted his hand away. “Of course I will.”

  A giggled escaped her. He joined her. She laughed a little harder. Then the two were joined in a burst of laughing.

  Swatting his arm she pouted between smiling lips, “That girl had a very hard head.”

  His arm slipped around her waist. “Aye. ‘Tis true. She is Scottish after all.”

  Raine smiled up at him. His arm was strong and warm against her back. She could smell the earthly scent of the outdoors mingled with his own masculine scent that she had grown accustomed to. She resisted the urge to lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. He could assail her senses all he wanted. She would resist. But she would resist by slightly enjoying it.

  He guided them through the town, waving and nodding to the townspeople. They smiled at their new mistress and happily watched the new couple meander through the village.

  “Lass, let us speak,” he said.

  “Alright.”

  “Are ye happy? Here? Have the people treated ye well? Respectfully?” he inquired.

  She laughed. “Oh, yes. They have all been wonderful to me. No complaints.”

  He fiddled with the ribbon at her waist. “Have ye enough dresses?”

  “Yes, plenty.”

  “Are they suitable?”

  “Suitable? Why, yes, of course.”

  He motioned to her legs and continued, “They are not too long then?”

  She gave a crooked grin. He thought that her smile rivaled the sun, and then shook himself. She was his wife, and he realized he was beginning to like her.

  “Yes, they are too long, but they are what your women wear so I will not complain. Besides,” she shook her skirts, “I’m sort of used to them now.”

  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “However,” she said slowly, “I sure do miss wearing my pants. They were so comfortable and much more feasible for riding.”

  When he said nothing, she let out an exaggerated sigh. Then another. Then another.

  He swatted her behind and she yelped. “Och, lass, simply ask me. And close yer mouth before ye catch a bug.”

  Her lips slammed shut, and twirling a curl hanging over her shoulder she said, “I should greatly appreciate it if you would return my, um, trews as you call them, to me.”

  “But the men get distracted. Perhaps it be better if ye stuck wi’ yer dresses.” He frowned and stole a glance at her.

  She huffed with indignation and shoved her elbow in his ribs. He grunted, and then they both laughed.

  “Do not abuse me just to get yer way, lass. I may look like I am strong as an ox, but truth be told,” he paused and sighed dramatically, “I am as fragile as a wee flower.”

  Laughter erupted from Raine and she made no effort to refrain herself, even when he joined in unabashedly. They continued until they were both out of breath, and the townspeople were shaking their heads at them.

  When he could speak, he told her, “I will have my lad return them to ye, but have pity on me, lady, and wear them sparingly. They truly are a distraction, and not only to me.”

  “Do I distract you?” she asked prettily.

  Growling he reached to swat her bottom again, but she dashed just out of his reach, giggling at her success, surprised at the fun she was having. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. The day was warm, the sun shone high in the sky, but his body was cold from where she left.

  “Aye, ye distract me. Somewhat.” He flashed a grin. “Do women dress like ye all the time in yer land?”

  She chewed on a hangnail, and answered through her teeth, “Oh, yeah. All the time. We can wear whatever we want. Jeans, er, pants or trews, long skirts, short skirts, short pants. Whatever.”

  He contemplated this. “Do yer women all have skills, like my men, and occupations? Do they earn their own gold pieces?”

  She nodded. “Yes, we have to. Here women go from their father’s house straight to their husband’s house. In my time, women are equal to men. We don’t have to wed if we don’t want to. We finish school, learn the necessary skills, and support ourselves. We take care of ourselves until we meet the man who sweeps us off of our feet and marries us.”

  “Sweeping is not very romantic,” he guffawed.

  “No,” she laughed. “It's just an expression. It means that we meet a man who makes us so utterly happy that we fall madly in love with him.”

  He pondered this. “Have ye ever been swept, lass?”

  She looked up at him. They had stopped walking and were standing at the edge of the village. The large stone keep with its tall towers loomed behind it. She thought that it looked like a scene out of a fairly tale book. And here was the prince of the land, looking at her with eyes that could mesmerize her without even trying, asking her if she had ever been swept.

  She shook her head, and said sadly, “No, I haven’t.”

  The headed back to the keep, him asking questions about her land, her time, her people, she answering the best she could. His hand always seemed to be somewhere on her person, whether on her waist, the small of her back guiding her through the path, or rolling a curl through his fingers.

  The sun had started its decline in the sky, outlining the castle in its glow. They found a small table and he grabbed something from behind its leg, continuing to guide her to the entrance of the keep.

  “Well, lass, thank ye fer walkin’ wi’ me,” he murmured, closer to her ear than he needed to be.

  Her stomach was feeling that tingling sensation again which caused her to fidget with the silk ribbons at her waist. “You’re welcome. It was rather nice.”

  She leaned over to peer behind him. “Why is your arm behind your back?”

  He smiled slowly. “Do ye really wish to know?” He was practically purring at her.

  She bit her lip, her curiosity showing in every grind of her teeth. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She replied, “I think so.”

  “’Tis a gift. For ye.”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, you don’t have to get me any gifts.” She clutched her dress. “You have given me plenty already.”

  He scanned the horizon, watching the glow of the sun as it descended further. The glow was an intense gold, the color of her hair. He reached over and ra
n his fingers through it, then brought a lock of it to his nose. “I was thinking of ye this morn. I have the scent of ye in my head and I can’t get it out. And I’m not sure I want to.”

  Slightly breathless, she asked, “What do I smell like?”

  He leaned towards her and ran his lips lightly over her cheek. “Like a meadow of wildflowers after the rain.”

  Pulling back, he offered her the small bouquet of brightly colored flowers he had gathered earlier that day. They were tied with a green silk ribbon that matched the color of her eyes.

  He lightly touched her lips with his, letting his hands softly linger at her waist. Then he smiled and walked away.

  She watched him go, his long leather-clad legs taking him away a bit too quickly. She looked at the flowers she was holding. Then she looked back at where he had been a moment ago.

  The thought occurred to her that she had just been swept.

  Chapter 16

  Lady MacGregor watched the couple from the upper level window overlooking the courtyard. She sighed and smiled. Her eldest son, her beautiful son, had found love. He just didn’t know it yet. He was attracted to her. That was obvious. But what would he do when he realized that he loved her?

  She walked towards the staircase. She would convince him to take his wife to the stones. It would be difficult, she knew, but she also knew that those stones played a huge part in all of their lives. What part they played she was not sure. But she and Mac would figure it out best they could. Now, she needed that book.

  Mac smiled as she entered the dusty room with books piled so high they threatened to block out the sun that struggled to shine through the twelve foot windows. He seldom had visitors here, but he welcomed the distraction. He knew Lady MacGregor since she was a little girl. She took well to the teachings of the elders, and she was always a good student. He had taught her sons, but they did not have the same passion for the old ways as she did.

  Lady Macgregor smiled back at her old friend. He never seemed to age. He had had wild, wiry gray hair when she was a child and it looked now exactly as it had then. A few lines around his eyes, but time had been kind to him. His eyes were just as sharp as they had always been.

  “What brings you up to this dusty old room, m’lady?” he asked, snapping the book he had been reading shut.

  She ran her fingers over the spine of an ancient book one of the many shelves that lined the walls in this huge room. “I have come to say hello.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hello back, my lady.”

  “And?” he prodded, smiling. He knew she wanted something, and he would bet his teeth that it was about the beautiful blonde wife of her son.

  Seating herself at the table, she met his gaze steadily.

  “We have to figure out what we are going to do about them.” Better to cut to the bone now. No need to mince words when she was sure her old friend and teacher had probably already hatched a plan in that over educated head of his.

  Laughing to himself, he inquired, “Do you mean help your son fall in love with his wife and she with him before convincing him to take her to the stones on the winter solstice?

  She slapped the table and sat back. “I knew it! I knew you were hatching some sort of scheme in that brain of yours. Have you nothing better to do, old man?”

  He cocked an eyebrow and replied cynically, “Would you have me any other way, my lady?”

  “No, I would not,” she replied appreciatively. “I can always count on you, Mac. You are a true friend.”

  She strolled towards the window and wiped a circle through the dirt on the glass and looked out over the keep. “He is trying to court her,” she informed him over her shoulder.

  He nodded. “Yes, I know. I have seen him gathering flowers for her.”

  “He has not yet bedded her. I have checked the sheets daily.”

  Mac frowned. “Why? They are married. It is his right, and holy before God.”

  She threw him a glance. “Because she is not ready. He is trying to woo her, Mac, before just throwing her in the marriage bed for a quick tupping. And I believe he already loves her but is unaware of it as of yet.”

  Mac waved his hands in the air. “Och, must you speak so foully, my lady? Honestly, it does not become you. I have been telling you that since you were this high.” He motioned to his hips.

  She laughed lightly. “My apologies, my dear old teacher. Now what shall we do, Mac? I think we should continue, and help, him to court her. They are soon to fall in love and consummate the marriage and begin breeding.”

  “And hope that lifts the curse? Bring peace back to this God forsaken piece of Scottish land by having children?” asked Mac.

  “Yes,” she snapped.

  Fairly stomping over to his side, she grabbed his robe. “Mac, we need the book. The one that my grandfather had. The one that has her picture in it. We need to figure out what the legend means and how we can help her to lift this curse.”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his wild hair, causing it to stick up in various ways even more. “I have read that book many times, Lady, and I am no closer to figuring it out than I was twenty years ago. But,” he held up his hands to silence the objections he knew she was about to hurl in his direction, “I thought you might wish to read it so I have it here.”

  He pulled a book off the shelf and rubbed the layer of dust off of it. Plopping the large heavy book on the table, he lit a candle. They would be here well into the night.

  “Yes?” she asked, peeking through the door crack.

  “I’ve come to kiss ye goodnight and wish ye pleasant dreams,” Leith drawled.

  She gulped. Raine had just dismissed her ladies for the evening and was preparing for sleep when the knock came.

  “May I come in?” he asked with a half grin. He looked like a canary that had just beaten the cat.

  She would turn to jelly if she let him in. She knew it. She just knew it.

  “Um, no, I don’t think that would be a good idea. My lord,” she added.

  He stood up straight and gave his most helpless look. “Och, ye cut me honor to the quick, lass. I’ll not be ravishing ye this night. I simply thought to wish ye a happy evening, that’s all. But if ye don’t trust the Laird of his own keep to uphold the honor of the women entrusted to his care…” his voice trailed off while his hand covered his heart.

  She stifled a small laugh. “You promise? No ravishing?”

  He held up his hand. “I promise. No ravishin’.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m saving that for another night.”

  She huffed and swatted the door jamb. “Stop that. And come in already.”

  He entered the room as if he owned it, which he technically did. It was her assigned room while he kept the master room. She was glad that he had not demanded any marital favors of her and had decided to have separate rooms. He had said that it was standard for the husband and wife to have their own separate rooms for privacy sake, but that they would sleep together in the same room. She was glad for that small favor. It would make things easier when he took her to the stones and she returned to her own time.

  She was about to offer a drink of ale that her ladies had left, but as soon as she opened her mouth, his tongue was in it.

  Her lips tried to make an oooh shape and her vocal cords should have followed with the appropriate sound, but all that came forth was a soft muzzled sound while her mouth moved to conform to his.

  His large hands moved from her smooth shoulders slowly downward to the tiny, dimpled small of her back where they seemed to ponder where to travel to next. His biceps flexed under her fingers as he pulled her hips closer until he was sure that she could feel the heat of his arousal on her belly.

  Her lungs were being squished by the giant of a man who sought to choke her with his tongue, and she didn’t care. She should. She should kick him in the shin and bring her knee up and cripple that thing digging into her belly that seemed to be on fire. But that was a tiny fleeting thought that
was being simultaneously burned by this overbearing fire that he had ignited in her while she was drowning in colorful swirls behind her eyelids because of his smell, his taste, the smooth hardness of his skin, the calloused hands that seemed to try to pull her inside of him.

  One hand made its way up to the back of her neck and wrapped itself in a fistful of gold and roughly yanked her mouth away from his, leaving his mouth free to bite and suckle on the forcibly exposed swan-like neck of this girl who has managed to wreak nothing but havoc in his life and his keep since she first tumbled upon him that first day in the woods.

  She moaned, and wrapped one leg around his thigh. His hand spiraled down from her waist to the wet heat between her legs to stroke the fire he knew he had built. She made no move to push him away which fueled him even more. He found the bud of her desire and rolled it between his fingers.

  “Aaahh!” she fairly yelped.

  He eased the pressure while pulling her closer to him. He nipped her bottom lip while dodging her efforts to capture his mouth with hers. She was a fast learner. He smiled.

  “Easy, lass,” he whispered.

  “No.” She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth to hers while grinding her hips deeper into his hand, that oversized calloused hand that she was growing to appreciate more and more with every passing second.

  “Hmmm, I say aye, ye say nay. Tsk, tsk. Whatever am I going to do with ye, my sweet strange lass?”

  She whined and stood on her one tiptoe and wrapped her other leg tighter around his waist now. Breathlessly, she answered honestly from the one minute place in her mind that was still somehow functioning through the haze of pleasure, “I don’t know. Just don’t stop this.”

  Then she whimpered, “Please.”

  She opened her eyes just then as he looked down into her upturned face. The fire was dying behind her and casting a golden red glow. Her eyes, normally green like the sea, had deepened to the darkest emerald he had ever seen. Her lashes were long and dark against them making them appear surreal. He thought he would drown in them if she did not close her eyes that very second.