Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  He explained. “After Iain’s death and the trouble with Longford, your uncle worried you were in need of a protector. Fraser approached me with the match before I left for England, and I accepted once we returned.” He paused, then warily added, “Whether you wish it or not, you do need a protector, Arabella.”

  Her mouth flapped open and closed thrice before snapping shut. Scorn twisted her features and darkened her cheeks.

  Christ, no wonder he’d put this off. Flaming furious, that’s what the devil she was.

  “’Tis not your choice, nor my uncle’s. ’Tis mine. My choice. I will decide what man I wed. And I can assure you, I’m in no need of a protector, least of all, one such as you!”

  She stomped past him and he snagged her around the waist before she had a chance to flee. The enraged woman kicked and twisted in his arms, but he grabbed her hands and tugged them across her chest. He yanked her back to rest against his frame, unwilling to let her go. At least until he offered a proper explanation.

  Once she winded herself, he leaned down to speak near her ear. “Be quiet and listen, will you?”

  Arabella yanked her head forward and jerked back, whacking him in the collarbone with the base of her skill.

  “Oww! God’s blood, stop!”

  “Let me go.” The vulnerability in her tone nearly cleaved him in two.

  “Do you not understand yet?” Calum held her tighter. “I cannot. I will not let you go.”

  His words had the desired effect and she slumped against him. The beat of her heart pounded beneath his palm. He dropped his mouth to the delicate curve of her neck. The bare scent of roses tickled his nose.

  “Do you truthfully believe I would force you to wed me?” He eased his hold and lowered his hand to her belly. “I did not accept Fraser’s arrangement out of duty. I was not being noble. I did not do it for him, or you. I did it for me, Arabella. I agreed to take you for my bride because I want you. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” Tracing his lips over the column of her throat, he admitted, “Truth is, I’d hoped…you might come to…want me.”

  Arabella turned in his arms and luminous pools of green gazed up at him. He swiped the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks, removing the evidence of her tears.

  “’Twas not my intention to cause you such distress. Please, do not cry anymore, Sweetness.”

  Her arms slipped around his waist and she laid her head on his chest. She mumbled, “I know not what to believe anymore.”

  Calum cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Believe this—I want you, Arabella—by my side, in my bed, for the rest of our lives. Say you’ll be my wife.”

  Worrying her bottom lip, she pulled back to stare at him, her measured gaze weighing his words. She yielded with a faint nod, but ’twas not enough.

  He framed her face in his hands. “Speak the word. I need to hear you say it.”

  “Aye.”

  Sheer relief crashed into Calum. He’d never imagined a single word might be his undoing, but his weak knees bore testament. Gripping the back of her neck, he pulled her closer and latched on to her mouth. He thrust his tongue past her parted lips, teasing with bold strokes. Her muffled whimper stirred a flood of white-hot lust. Overcome with desire, he guided her backward to lean against the stable wall.

  As he ravished her mouth, he eased a hand around to the soft curve of her belly. Beneath her gown, her stomach quivered under his fingertips. With deliberate leisure, he slid his hand up her waist to the underside of her breast and swept his thumb over one stiff peak.

  Arabella tore her mouth free with a gasp, wrapping her hand around his wrist. When he thought she might pull away from him, she pressed the plump globe into his palm, urging him to touch her.

  Emboldened by her response, he worked fast to loosen the lacings of her dress. While he nipped at her lips, he pushed the gown and chemise down over her shoulder and arm to expose a pale, rounded breast. Desperate for a taste, he leaned forward to catch one rosy bud.

  Smooth, creamy flesh filled his mouth. His tongue circled over the hardened tip and laved at her breast. She moaned low in her throat and dug her fingers into his shoulders, feeding his hunger. Writhing against him, she raked her nails from his neck to his scalp and gripped his shorn hair in her hands. The action sent a trail of fire rippling to his groin.

  Saints, he burned for more—for everything.

  Releasing her breast, he moved his hand to the curve of her hip and tugged up her skirts. Her warm breath puffed against his neck, drawing a shiver from him. Slowly, he traced his fingers up her legs to the junction between her thighs until he found the soft curls shielding her center. Panting, she arched against him, her nails scoring his flesh.

  Through the mist of desire, he attempted to steady his breathing, but Arabella drove him wild. His lass was molten fire in his hands, and the last of his control splintered in two.

  To hell with waiting any longer. His lust-addled brain could not bear the torture, nor could his aching member.

  Trailing kisses up her neck to her ear, he slipped his fingers through her slick folds, preparing her to accept him. A cry tore from her throat and he fumbled with the laces of his braies, impatient to bury himself deep inside her.

  “Laird! Have you found Lady Arabella?”

  His commander’s shout cut through the sensual fog and Calum froze, ceasing to draw breath for a few rattled moments.

  Annoyed with himself, he banged his forehead against the wall. Like a callow youth with his first lass, he’d nearly taken her against the damned planks of timber, right then and there. Arabella deserved better than a quick tumble in the stables.

  Outside, muffled voices sounded and his frantic heart leaped in his chest.

  In a mad rush, he withdrew his hand from the temptation between her thighs and set their clothing to rights. Her wide, glazed eyes darted to his, and he planted a quick kiss on her swollen lips.

  “’Tis fine. No cause to worry.” With an arm around her shoulders, he steered her toward the front of the stables. “Come along, Sweetness.”

  And none too soon since Mairi, Liam, and Marcus met them just outside the doors.

  His sister frowned at the two of them. “Is everything all right?”

  Clasping Arabella’s hand, Calum nodded. “Aye, Arabella’s agreed to become my wife.”

  “Holy Mother, ’tis about time,” Mairi exclaimed.

  Liam’s gaze swept over Arabella, from head to toe, no doubt noting her disheveled appearance. He arched a brow at Calum. “I assume this’ll be a quick affair.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After a vexing, restless eve, Arabella found herself held captive in Calum’s solar by a group of women wielding swathes of cloth and needles. Heartha, the clan’s weaver, along with some of the other women, insisted they must begin work on Arabella’s wedding gown. So there she stood, uninterested and weary from lack of sleep. With each pinprick and prod, the dull pain in her head swelled.

  ’Twas Calum’s blasted fault.

  As soon as he announced their intention to wed within a fortnight, a wave of excitement rippled through the MacGregors. The clan’s men whooped and howled their approval, while the women set about making immediate plans. Already that morn, to Arabella’s dismay, Mairi had sent out several missives inviting other clans to the festivities.

  The MacGregors merely wished to celebrate the memorable occasion but, frankly, ’twas downright terrifying to her—at the forefront, on display to a flock of strangers. The ache in her head increased twofold with the thought. A simple exchange of vows in the keep’s small chapel would serve well enough for their wedding day. Too bad others had not agreed, Calum included. Of course, he was not the one presently surrounded by a group of high-spirited women brandishing thread and needles.

  As for Uncle Hammish, his marked absence had not gone unnoticed when Calum made the announcement last eve. From the start, had he wished to marry her off so he would not have to worry with h
er?

  And what of Calum? What did he expect of a wife? She peered at the flurry of women encircling her with fabrics. Was she to take up such frivolous pursuits as sewing to appease him? What did he truly want of her?

  A needled jabbed her hip. “Oww!”

  Heartha clucked her tongue. “Hold still, lass. Just a bit longer.”

  At the end of her tether, she cried, “Enough. I cannot stand anymore.”

  The startled weaver reared her head back. A swift flux of guilt pummeled Arabella.

  “Forgive me, ’tis just that I’ve had little sleep and I’m not myself. Honestly, I do appreciate your efforts.”

  Heartha’s features softened and she patted Arabella’s hand. “Why don’t you go warm yourself by the fire, lass? We’ll manage without you for a while.”

  Grateful, Arabella smiled at Heartha and hurried across the chamber to seat herself in front of the fire. As the women clucked back and forth over hues and patterns, she stared into the flames and tried to banish the overwhelming thoughts from her head, but to no avail. Her mind spun with dozens of questions and concerns.

  At least she took solace in one small revelation. Considering her encounter with Calum in the stables, the marriage bed might not be as dreadful as she feared. ’Twas truly unimaginable, the feelings he awakened within her. Even now, the thought of him touching her in such a familiar manner sent a shiver down her spine.

  But what did she know of pleasing a man? She’d no notion how to proceed with the bedding any more than she knew how to be a wife. ’Twas naught she could speak of with her future husband or her uncle. She suspected Mairi might offer assurances, but modesty prevented her from speaking of such a bold matter. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she longed for Maggie’s presence. The older woman would’ve dashed away her worries with a quick, simple explanation.

  Speaking of Maggie, where was she? Should she and Dougal not have arrived at her uncle’s by now? Had Longford’s men captured them as they’d tried to do with her?

  The solar door creaked open and Elena stepped inside, cool and composed, as if she had not a care in the world. ’Twas a far cry from the hysterics Arabella had witnessed days before.

  Mairi tossed aside the fabric in her lap, sprang to her feet, and ran for Elena, wrapping the older woman in a sturdy embrace. Arabella rose and moved toward to the pair. Upon closer inspection, she noted the heavy shadows beneath Elena’s eyes. Within moments, she found herself dragged into the circle of their arms.

  Mairi stepped back to scan her aunt’s face. “Why would you not leave your chamber? You’ve worried me and Arabella so.”

  Elena grasped one of their hands in her own. “No worries, my lasses. I just needed a bit of time to myself to sort through a troubling matter, but I’m perfectly fine now. See?”

  Her bright smile scarcely hid the burden she carried. Arabella itched to question her further but feared Elena might retreat to her chamber once more.

  “Word ’round the keep is Calum announced your wedding at last.” Elena squeezed her hand. “I had to come see the bride for myself.”

  “So you knew as well.” Saints, had she been the only one who had not known of her own blasted wedding?

  Elena and Mairi had the good grace to appear sheepish.

  Disentangling her hand, Arabella turned away and returned to her seat near the hearth. Of course, the two women followed.

  Elena eased down on the stool beside her. “I’d hoped you would be pleased, dear. I was certain you favored Calum, at least a wee bit?”

  “Aye, I do. ’Tis just…” She propped her elbow on the chair arm and dropped her chin in her palm. “Why did neither of you speak of it? Everyone knew but me.”

  Mairi knelt on her other side. “I’m sorry, Arabella, but I promised my brother I would not. He worried you might not accept him. He simply wished for more time with you before speaking of the match. Believe me,”—she patted Arabella’s knee—“I dug into Calum when I discovered you did not know. Truth is, he was just as surprised to learn the news himself. Apparently, my brother did not agree to anything before he departed.”

  Elena added with a curl of her lip, “’Twas your uncle who told the clan as soon as Calum left for England.”

  “Oh.” So, ’twas true. Her uncle had wished to be rid of her.

  Elena grabbed her free hand and squeezed. “I’m just relieved Calum came ’round and told you. I despised the deception.”

  “Calum did not speak of it,” Arabella muttered. “Uncle Hammish did. He commended Calum’s choice of bride, and I mistook his meaning. I thought…I thought Calum was to wed another.”

  The older woman spat a rather colorful curse and Arabella lifted her brows. At present, she was sorely displeased with her uncle, but what had he done to earn such scorn from Elena?

  “You and my uncle…” Arabella paused at Elena’s stony stare.

  The woman released a deep sigh. “My nephew…his wounds are a source of weakness to him, though he would never admit such. I’m sure he worried you might not wish to wed him, so he chose to not speak of the match until he was certain of your feelings for him.”

  Certain of her feelings for him? She’d thought he was unsure of his feelings for her.

  Mairi grinned. “You’ll be good for our Calum. Mayhap in time, you’ll come to love him.”

  Arabella raised her brows. Love? She shifted in her seat, uncertain if she wished to examine the extent of her feelings for her betrothed just yet. “I…I—”

  Elena laughed. “Do not worry yourself with it now. You’ll know when the feeling strikes.”

  “How?” Arabella asked.

  “Love can be a truly wondrous feeling.” Elena’s smile faded. “But ’tis a risk. You open your heart and expose every part of yourself to another. The feeling can be shattering or, with the right person, you’ll feel as if you can reach to the heavens.”

  Arabella frowned at the odd statement. “Were you deeply in love with Liam’s father?”

  The question caught Elena by surprise. For the briefest of moments, pain flickered in her blue eyes before she ducked her head. When she lifted her gaze, she’d donned her cool, collected features once more.

  “Aye, I was very much in love with Liam’s father.” She stared over Arabella’s shoulder, and a faraway look entered her gaze. “’Tis taken me quite a while to understand I’ve never stopped loving him.”

  Arabella narrowed her eyes. “What do you—”

  Elena clapped her hands together and rose to her feet, moving to the other side of the solar. “Now, let’s see this dress you ladies are working on.”

  Surprised by the abrupt departure, Arabella glanced at Mairi, who frowned after the woman.

  No doubt ’twas far more to Elena’s tale she’d not revealed to them, but Arabella chose not to voice her concerns for the moment. However, she suspected her uncle played a greater role in the story.

  *

  Winded from training in the fields, Calum paused to catch his breath. Even though he crushed his opponent in the dust, he commended his cousin’s efforts. Liam’s ease with a sword improved by leaps and bounds. Namely, because he spent more time honing his skills and less chasing after the lasses, Calum thought with a chuckle.

  He grabbed his tunic from the ground and swiped it across his forehead as he looked on at his sparring clansmen. ’Twas how he’d spent the day, keeping himself busy in the training fields and far away from the temptation of his affianced bride.

  After last eve, he wisely decided to keep his distance lest he give in to his overwhelming desire for her. His innocent bride deserved a proper wedding night, even if it pained him to wait. But Saints, he wanted naught more than to rescue her from all those blathering females in his solar and spirit her away to finish what they’d started in the stables.

  Alas, the wedding was a fortnight away. Far too long by his estimation.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed Fraser. Wearing his usual stern features, the man strode straight
for him. His shoulders slumped as he watched the older man’s approach. Frankly, he was not in the mood to continue with their argument.

  As soon as Fraser stopped beside him, Calum held his breath and looked on at his men in the fields.

  Fraser breached the awkward silence. “I’ll offer no apologies, but I can admit I deserved your anger.”

  Calum almost laughed. Of course, the man would not apologize on pain of death. At least, the brunt of his foul mood had passed.

  “I can accept that.” Calum slanted a glance at Fraser. “I know you and Elena are at odds with each other, but do not create any more trouble for Arabella and me. Fate has been unkind to her of late, and I’ll not have you upsetting her. Agreed?”

  Fraser peered at him with a look akin to grudging respect. “Aye.” He glanced away and tucked his hands behind his back. “I’ve behaved poorly since my lass arrived. I need to speak with her, try to explain…”

  “Aye, you do.” Calum mirrored his stance. “Arabella loves you dearly. She’ll understand.”

  “Does she know of the bride price?” Fraser asked.

  “Nay.” Calum shook his head. Hopefully, she’d never learn that minor detail of his arrangement with Fraser.

  “I suppose she would not know of it. ’Twas my sister Arianna’s. When she married Arabella’s father, the pair asked me to hold her dowry in safekeeping for their children should anything happen to them.”

  Calum raised a brow. No wonder Fraser held on to the land for so long. For years, he’d attempted a fair trade with his ally for the rich parcel, but Fraser always refused. Now, with the acquisition within his grasp, his interest ceased. ’Twas odd, but he could not accept the dowry and wed Arabella in good conscience.

  “Well, I’ve given the matter thought. Keep it. My clan’s survived this long without it.”

  “’Tis already done.”

  “I do not want it,” he bit out. “Arabella’s prize enough for me.”

  Fraser laughed. “Aye, but you’ll have her dowry just the same.”

  Calum huffed in irritation. ’Twas no use arguing. He’d simply give the parcel to Arabella to do with as she pleased. ’Twas hers in the first place.