Highlands Forever (Books 1–3)

by Rand, Violetta

  “Wrap yer legs around my waist, lass.” He lifted her, and Helen did as he asked.

  He carried her to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress with her propped on his lap. She nipped his lower lip and smiled as he went in for a kiss, their tongues tangling together with renewed hunger.

  He’d chosen a fiery lass to take as wife. It excited him, knowing he’d be the one to show her what a man and woman shared in the bedchamber, the one to awaken her deepest desires. Her skin was soft and smooth, and he slid his palms down her arms, over her back, and ended on her shapely arse. She clung to him, their kiss intensifying, her body moving rhythmically with his.

  They fell back together, and Jamie rolled her onto her back, staring down at her, loving her with his eyes.

  “Ye are perfect, Helen of the Highlands.”

  “Thank ye,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “I love the color of yer hair, Jamie. It reminds me of fire.”

  “The one ye lit inside me, lass.” He found wet heat between her slim thighs and gently massaged her sex, watching with fascination as she closed her eyes and arched her back.

  Stretching out beside her, he kissed her breast, sucking on her dusk-colored nipple. Because she was not a shy lass, Helen’s hands wandered freely across his body, stopping short of his erection. She stroked the areas around it, smiling.

  “The hair around yer manhood is the same color as the hair on yer head.”

  “Aye,” he said, sucking in a ragged breath, his patience near breaking. He needed to be inside her, joined as man and wife. “That fire runs deep, lass. Verra deep.”

  “Is it painful?” She eyed his manhood.

  “Give me yer hand, Helen. Doona be afraid to touch me.” He guided her fingers to his shaft. “Squeeze gently, slide yer fingers over it.”

  After she tried a couple of times, he let go, and Helen continued to stroke. He groaned and closed his eyes. Though she was inexperienced, the magic in her fingertips drove him crazy. Love had altered the way he felt about bedsport. He wanted to please her, to give her anything she wanted. She moved, and Jamie opened his eyes in time to see her about to kiss the tip of his manhood.

  “Lass…”

  Too late, she kissed her way from the tip to the base, caressing him at the same time, her other hand tickling his stomach.

  “Helen,” he gasped. “How did ye know…”

  She slid the head of his manhood into her mouth.

  Unable to control himself any longer, Jamie practically tackled her, pinning her underneath him, raising her arms above her head, and ravaging her mouth with his tongue and teeth.

  She squirmed and bucked against him, and Jamie let one of his hands drift between her legs to find her sensitive nub. Slick and ready. Jamie sat up, scooted to the edge of the mattress, and removed his tunic and boots. Somewhere between the floor and bed, her slippers had fallen off, but he’d be damned if any barriers remained between her flesh and his.

  “Sit up and let me take yer shift off, lass.”

  She helped him lift it over her head. “I want ye, Jamie MacKay.”

  Kneeling in front of her, he urged her back down and nudged her legs apart. Seeing her this way filled him with an array of emotions—some that he’d never experienced before. In that moment, he was more a man than he’d ever been, for he felt suddenly complete. She’d given him a priceless gift—herself. And Jamie would protect her at all costs, die for her, kill a thousand men if that’s what it took to keep her away from anyone who meant her harm.

  Taking ahold of her hips, he positioned himself at her entrance, kissing her at the same time, determined to minimize the shock and pain of first entry. He knew pleasure waited for her after the first moments.

  “Jamie?”

  He cupped her face between his hands, holding her gaze, marveling at her Valkyrie-like beauty. Lust held her in its tight grip, too. With a gentle thrust, he entered her, and her eyes widened.

  “Tis all right, lass,” he whispered, rolling his hips slowly.

  He pushed again, going deeper, encased in tight, wet heat. “Helen?”

  “Doona stop now, please.”

  He couldna if he wanted to. Lost in the wave of emotions and the way it felt to be one with her, all he could do was surrender to the mounting tension. Aye, a piece of heaven on earth. God or fate had brought them together that night in the great hall. As he took shorter and faster strokes, filling her, withdrawing, then filling her again, her body stiffened and she whispered his name as she peaked. Her flesh clenched around him, and Jamie couldna stop his body’s response. He exploded inside her, collapsing on top of her, breathless and weak.

  For she had stolen more than just his heart. Quite possibly, she owned his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Helen awoke to an empty bed. But when she threw the coverlets back and sat up, she found Miran seated at one of the chairs by the hearth, doing embroidery.

  “Miran? Where is my husband?”

  “He summoned me a few hours ago to sit with ye while he concluded his business with Laird Alex. I was given explicit instructions to let ye sleep.”

  Helen yawned and stretched her arms high over her head before she realized she wasna wearing anything. She quickly covered herself.

  “Milady,” Miran said, setting her work aside and standing. “Ye doona need to feel ashamed. I have seen ye naked before.”

  “But…”

  “Ye are a woman now and think it has changed ye?”

  “I feel verra different.”

  “All the women agree ye were the most beautiful bride. And Master Jamie, the happiest groom.”

  A tub with steaming water had been set up near the hearth. How had Helen slept through servants hauling the tub into her bedchamber? A fresh tray of food had been placed on the bedside table. Just seeing the food set her stomach to growling.

  “Ye are hungry?”

  It wasn’t until Helen stood that she felt the soreness between her legs. Jamie had loved her a second time after they awoke just before sunrise. The fresh memory heated her insides—how he kissed and caressed her everywhere, his thick manhood filling her, pleasing her more than she’d ever imagined possible.

  Miran approached with a fresh sheet. “Let me drape this around ye so ye can sit and eat comfortably.”

  Helen agreed and let the maid wrap her in the soft material. Then Miran poured her a glass of wine and offered her fresh bread, boiled eggs, and smoked fish. As Helen ate, she watched Miran strip the bed, including the blood-stained sheet. When Miran separated it from the other linens, Helen said, “What are ye doing?”

  “Laird Alex wishes to spare ye the embarrassment of hanging yer bridal sheet in the great hall, but I must take it to him where he and several other witnesses will attest that ye were a maiden.”

  “My husband can speak to my innocence. I willna allow it!”

  “Ye must let me do this, Lady Helen. Please. Tis tradition and a point of great pride for our people.”

  “And what of my husband’s innocence? Will he suffer the same humiliation?”

  Miran chuckled. “Men doona have virgin blood.”

  “Ye are a maiden, Miran, but know so much about marriage.”

  “I have served many ladies.”

  “Yet ye are not truly a servant.”

  Miran gaped at her. “Who told ye?”

  “Jamie.”

  “He should have kept my secret.”

  “He cares for ye, Miran. As do I.”

  “I know.”

  “Which is why I beg ye to come with us.”

  “The decision has already been made. Lady Keely has ordered me to Sands Airgid. I am yer wedding gift from her.”

  Helen shot up and rushed to Miran, embracing her. “Ye willna regret it, Miran, I promise. And I willna call ye my maid any longer. Ye are my companion.”

  “I am pleased to go with ye. Now that Jamie has been made a laird, I see Sands Airgid as part of my home.”

  A
little later, dressed in her warmest wool gown and boots, Helen and Miran went belowstairs. Everyone in the great hall clapped and wished her happiness. As for the bridal sheet, Miran quietly disappeared with it to Alex’s solar.

  Petro arrived not much later and invited Helen to join her husband in the solar. “I trust your wedding night was a joyous occasion?”

  “I am a verra happy woman.”

  “It shows on your face, Lady Helen, as it should. God’s greatest gift to us is love.”

  Jamie welcomed her warmly, and Alex stood and bowed.

  “I wanted ye here to sign this contract as one of Jamie’s witnesses,” Alex said. “I have kept my promise and made yer husband an independent laird. However, one of the greatest burdens falls upon yer shoulders.”

  “I will do anything to help Jamie.”

  “Good,” Alex said. “In order for Jamie to keep his lands, ye must give him a male heir. Otherwise, I will be forced to appoint a new laird if Jamie dies.”

  Helen understood only too well what she was expected to do. She wanted many children, boys and girls to fill her heart and Jamie’s with endless joy. Their children would live a very different life than she had. After Jamie signed three parchments, identical copies of the contract, Petro offered her the writing implement and she provided her signature.

  “It is done.” Alex embraced Jamie. “I will send word to the other branches.”

  “Thank ye again.” Jamie bowed. “My last request concerns Kuresh.”

  “He is a free man, Jamie. Where he places his allegiance is up to him.”

  “But he has been with ye almost as long as Petro.”

  “And has more than earned his freedom.”

  “I will make him my right hand.”

  “A wise choice,” Alex approved. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

  *

  Two weeks later, Helen and Jamie were mounted on his war horse and leading a procession of more than twenty men northward. Nudar and Ramsey rode a mare and Miran her own horse. The soldiers protectively surrounded their new laird and lady.

  Helen had heard much about Sands Airgid and looked forward to catching her first glimpse of it through the winter fog. She’d been told that, perched atop a hill, the views surrounding the manor house were unmatched. The ocean to the north, mountains to the west, and fertile valleys flanked it to the south and east.

  Jamie hugged her tight and whispered, “I am sorry about the bridal sheet.”

  She gazed at him. “Why dinna ye tell me?”

  He shrugged. “Because I knew what ye would do if I did.”

  “Oh?”

  “Ye are my wife, lass. That sheet would have ended up in the fire.”

  She smiled and then laughed. Aye, her husband knew her well. And the more time she spent with him, the more confident and independent she felt. Jamie wouldna squash her dreams as her sire and brothers had. If anything, Jamie encouraged her to be herself.

  As the sun started to fade, they followed a narrow horse trail up a hill. Twas at the top, located on the next knoll, that Helen first saw her new home. Although not as stately as Dunrobin Castle, the distinct gray-stoned building with a tower inspired a sense of deep pride in her.

  Jamie stopped the horse. “What do ye think, Helen of the Highlands?”

  “It is magical,” she said. “Yer ancestral home is more than I expected.”

  “I will give ye free reign to do as ye wish. Order new furnishings and tapestries, build a new wing. Whatever yer heart desires. We are nay poor, Helen. Our clan will thrive. And I will put a son in yer belly before summer arrives.”

  The thought of him spilling his seed inside her again and again sent a thread of excitement through her. She squirmed in the saddle, purposely grinding her arse against him.

  He growled in her ear. “For that, lass, as soon as I carry ye over the threshold, I will take ye from behind on the stairs.”

  As they approached the manor house, the gates opened, and Jamie’s soldiers and servants surrounded them in the bailey, welcoming their new laird and lady.

  “Laird Jamie!” Crannog gripped his master’s forearm. “And Lady MacKay. On behalf of all of us, long may ye live and may God grant ye many bairns.”

  Again, the crowd cheered.

  Jamie raised his hands. “Thank ye, all. In honor of my new wife, I command Crannog to open the storage rooms. Feast and drink until ye fall down.”

  Jamie helped Helen dismount, and true to his word, carried her up the few steps leading to the main doors, through the luxurious great hall, and halfway up the spiraling stairs that led to the laird’s bedchamber.

  “This side of the house only contains my bedchamber and solar. Unless asked to, no one climbs these stairs.”

  The warning thrilled her, and he set her on her feet, pushed her against the cold, stone wall, untied her cloak, and forced open the bodice of her gown, exposing her breasts. He feasted on one nipple and lifted her skirts with his other hand. He cupped her womanhood, sliding two fingers inside her.

  “Ye are wet for me, Helen.”

  His lips found hers in a demanding kiss, and she fisted his hair in her hands. Then he broke their kiss and roughly spun her round, raising her skirts above her hips. A chill went up her body, but his body heat would provide all the comfort she needed.

  “Aye, lass. Feel what ye do to me.” With one powerful thrust, he filled her.

  Helen splayed her fingers on the stone wall, holding herself up. If she dinna, her legs were so wobbly, she’d fall down. With every hard pump of his hips, she moaned and writhed. It felt so good to be taken that way.

  They peaked together, and she turned about, stood on her toes, and claimed his mouth, her tongue spiraling over his, letting him know she wanted more. “I want to see the laird’s bedchamber.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morn, she was introduced to many MacKays and servants, the cook, stable lads, and Jamie’s captains and soldiers. In all, sixty-five people lived within the main walls of the manor house. A hundred soldiers slept in four bunk houses built within the bailey and numerous crofters lived across their lands in their own cottages.

  The cook, Dunmore MacDonald, gave Helen a tour of the buttery and other storage rooms, all well-stocked for the rest of the winter. It seemed she had married a man who not only knew how to wield a sword but also managed his household as well as any chatelaine.

  There was a women’s solar in need of use, and with a good hand for weaving and sewing, Helen made it a priority to provide a comfortable place for all the women in her household to gather.

  Later in the evening, while she sat at the high table with her husband, the crofters and their children came with gifts to honor their new laird. One bairn, no older than seven, approached the dais with a lamb curled around his neck, her legs dangling over his shoulders. He bowed awkwardly, then straightened.

  “Welcome to Sands Airgid, Lady Helen.”

  “What is yer name?” she asked.

  “Nab MacKay.”

  “And who is yer pet?”

  “She is a verra special ewe lamb, milady. A gift for ye.”

  The tiny creature mewed and wiggled. Helen couldna resist; she went down to receive the sweet lamb herself. Nab placed the animal in Helen’s arms and smiled when she kissed its head.

  “I will raise her to be my own,” she told Nab. “Would ye like to name her?”

  The lad scratched his head. “There’s a tiny black star on her head. What if ye called her Star?”

  “Star,” Helen repeated with a smile.

  Jamie gestured for one of the lads to take the animal. “Thank ye, Nab.”

  The boy bowed again and moved away so the next family could step forward to congratulate their laird.

  Helen counted forty families, most with young children, some widowers and widows, and some orphans who the crofters looked after. There was much she could do to improve their lives, things she had begged her sire to do, like teaching the children to
read and write. Educated children would grow into valuable workers for the MacKays. And Jamie had told her to do as she pleased when it came to running the household.

  The meal was delicious, fish and clams, pickled vegetables, dried fruits, bread and butter, and mead, something Helen had never drunk before. It tasted sweet on her tongue, but once it reached her stomach, it warmed her like uisge beatha, a type of spirits her brothers had given her on occasion to make her talk funny. But the water of life tasted terrible. She would gladly drink mead again.

  After the meal was over, one of the women played the harp, filling the hall with the sweetest sounds. If this was a peek into Helen’s future, and if these people had truly accepted her as their lady, she would never be unhappy or lonely again. With Jamie as her husband, Miran as her companion, and Keely only a half-day ride away, she could endure anything. Even a life without her father and brothers.

  By the time she and Jamie went abovestairs, made love, then curled up together to sleep, she was exhausted but sated, endlessly thankful to God and her husband. But very late that night, she was startled awake by a nightmare, or what she thought was one. Loud sounds drifted up to the bedchamber, and she reached for Jamie, to shake him awake, but he was gone.

  She jumped out of bed, slipped into a gown and slippers, then ran belowstairs. Kuresh and some of the men were guarding the doors, and the maids were gathered in the corner by one of the hearths, looking terrified.

  “Kuresh!” She called to him. “Where is Jamie? The rest of the men?”

  Kuresh bowed. “Laird Jamie did not want to wake you,” he said. “Someone shot fiery arrows into one of the stables. We lost several horses and the boy who slept there.”

  “Is the fire out?”

  “Yes, milady. It was a sinister way to draw Jamie out. I asked him to stay here and let me lead the soldiers, but he refused.”