How to Marry a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  It had been difficult to acknowledge, and he had not fully reconciled his mind to accept where they were now, but Dugan had thought he could act the role as laird with her by his side without incident. Then he walked into the hall.

  Adanel’s red hair made her easy to spot despite the crowd. Dugan thought she would have been looking for him, eagerly waiting for his arrival, but based on what he saw, he was not even on her mind. Loman was.

  His stomach rolled as he had observed the scene. Her hand on Loman’s arm, her laughter, the commander’s enjoyment as he taught her how to do the sword dance. If Loman thought his wife was going to be dancing next to him tonight, he would soon be on his way back south. Loman was a hard worker, likeable, and in general a godsend with all that needed to be done, but Dugan refused to spend the next year watching the man win over the affections of his wife. Adanel was his.

  Even if pain, hurt, and misunderstanding made her lost to him forever, she would always be his. Nothing would change that.

  * * *

  With a brief tug, Adanel freed her hand and moved around the large chairs to stand next to Dugan in front of the main table. She listened as he spoke to the crowd, but she barely heard a word.

  The blinding fury that had been rolling off him when he found her laughing with Loman had been palpable. Dugan had the nerve to act like he was jealous!

  She had no interest in Loman or any other man, but after the way Dugan had discarded her, he had no right to interfere even if she did. After the deadly stare he had issued Loman, she doubted the jovial commander would come within twenty feet of her again, let alone share a conversation . . . or do the sword dance next to her. And she couldn’t blame him for Dugan looked like he was ready to kill Loman just for keeping her from falling.

  “Let the feast begin!” she heard Dugan shout. The hall was full of happy cheers and hails as everyone began to dig in to the plates before them.

  Dugan glanced to his side and leveled a stare on Adanel, which she coolly returned. Then at the same time, they sat down, both with the intentions of ignoring the other for the rest of the night.

  “Daingead!” Dugan shouted, leaping to his feet only a second before Adanel joined him. “Cò ann an ifrinn seo a chur air mo chathair?” he bellowed, pointing at his seat.

  Adanel wanted answers as well as her backside was in a similar state as Dugan’s, completely sodden with some sort of pie or stew. Someone had put a plate of food in both their seats while Dugan had been talking to the crowd. It was an impossible feat. No one nearby would dare do such a thing. Except perhaps one man. There was only one person she knew who could have slipped by without capturing her attention.

  Adanel looked around for Kara’s brother. “Nigel!” she whispered through gritted teeth. “This time I won’t wait for Dugan to kill you, I’m going to do it!”

  Suddenly, the laughter of the hall permeated their stunned states. Adanel realized that to study their seats, she and Dugan had turned around. Therefore, their wet, food-dripping backsides had been on display to everyone in the hall. It was too much to ask for them not to laugh, but it only added to Adanel’s humiliation.

  “Murt, you are coming with me,” Dugan barked. He grabbed her hand and started marching toward the doors ignoring all the shouts and laughter.

  Once again, Adanel realized she had only thought she had seen Dugan mad. The man was inventing new levels of anger with every passing moment.

  * * *

  Dugan headed straight for his solar in the keep. He wanted no interruptions. He wanted no comments. He needed to calm down.

  When he entered his chambers, he tugged Adanel inside and then slammed the door closed. When he turned around and saw her standing there looking at him as if it was his fault their backsides were sticky with stew, he snapped.

  Dugan had not really thought about why he was bringing Adanel with him. It had been instinct. She was in a similar state of disarray, and he did not want the crowd to continue jeering at her, even if it was in good spirit and fun. But now that she was here, in front of him, in his bedroom, where they could finally clear any misunderstandings, the last thing he wanted to do was talk.

  With a fierce gaze, he started walking toward her. Adanel’s eyes grew large, and she instinctively began walking backward until her back hit the stone wall.

  Dugan’s arms went to her sides, and he came in close. “Can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t think. Everything I do, my mind comes back to you.” His face came in so close that if she tilted her chin even a little, they would touch. “I tried to stay away, but I can’t anymore. I hear you when you aren’t around. I see you in my dreams. I can taste your mouth, feel your skin . . . you haunt my every move, aithinne. You have since the moment I first saw you and no amount of time, distance, or anger is ever going to stop that.”

  Adanel swallowed. Dugan desired her, aye, but she already knew that. She wanted more and until he was ready to give her his all, they were not going to work. “You and I? It isn’t going to happen. You need to let me go,” she declared softly but with firm resolve. Fear was in her eyes. She had been hurt too many times.

  “Cha dèan mo chas! Aye, aithinne, this absolutely is going to happen. I’m done with avoiding you and you avoiding me,” Dugan growled. “Weeks of nothing but you on my mind. Weeks of going to bed alone when you should be in my arms. When I saw Loman talking with you, attempting to see if he had any chance, I almost lost it and killed the man. All my life I wanted what I’ve got here in this room, and I’m not going to lose it now because you and I can’t figure out how to talk to one another.”

  “You won’t lose it,” Adanel whispered, afraid to assume more into what he was saying. “I’ll leave. The castle still needs improvement, but you’ll have Tybalt and every day you are winning over more and more of the clan. I’m sure—”

  “—do you honestly think I’m going to let the first woman who makes me happy, makes me think about the future, of a life I never thought possible, just walk away from me?”

  “We only handfasted, Dugan, you have no obligations—”

  “—I’m not going to,” he stated in a voice so deadly serious it scared her, but it also gave her the first tiny bit of real hope.

  “Dugan—”

  “Listen to me, Adanel. I’m not going to let you go.” And before she could say another word, he caught her face between his hands and invaded the sweet, vulnerable warmth behind her lips with an intimate aggression that seared her senses. Adanel had no choice but to respond and clenched her fingers around his shoulders. The light encouragement was all Dugan needed to deepen the kiss that was going to end only one way. Adanel no longer cared.

  The past few weeks had been hell. Dugan could not sleep or think? It had been the same for her. She knew she should stop him, demand an explanation for what happened last time, and get him to admit his feelings for her, but in his arms, she had no willpower. Her mind always lost to the sensations in her body.

  Dugan could feel the tension in Adanel’s body dissipate as their kiss melted away rational thought. His head was reeling with the feel of her and he craved more. His hot, slick tongue glided against hers, tasting the faint tang of ale. He broke off the kiss, lifted his head slightly, and sucked in air.

  “Dugan,” she whispered, rocking against him; and then going up on tiptoe, Adanel sought his lips again.

  “Dia,” he murmured, and crushed her mouth once more against his, needing each stroke of her tongue.

  He explored her mouth with an expertise that never failed to make her dizzy. His hands had moved from her face to her back, pulling her to him so that she was tight against his body. Her pulse raced and hot little ripples of pleasure slid down her thighs as she felt the hard bulge beneath his plaid. Sensuously, she moved against it.

  The tease was not enough. She wanted to feel him, and his clothes were obstacles. Pulling, ripping, Adanel yanked them off as Dugan did the same with her gown in a desperate effort. When free, he swept her in his arms and carri
ed her to his bed. Laying her down, he covered her with his massive body, pushing her legs open for his touch.

  Adanel moaned and began to writhe as his fingers penetrated deep. Dugan dropped his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Her body arched toward him, and he groaned to the sound of her mewling as his tongue lathed and his fingers teased, pinched, massaged, and stroked her into a delirious wetness.

  His mouth broke free and began to attack her neck, moving upward. “You’re mine, Adanel,” he decreed. “There’ll never be another for me and there’ll never be another for you.”

  Adanel groaned her agreement, but Dugan was not satisfied and his free hand gave her neck a squeeze. “Say it,” he demanded huskily.

  “I’m yours,” she breathed, her words ragged from passion.

  “Forever, Adanel. Say it.”

  Adanel nodded. “Forever. I always have been yours, Dugan, and I always will be.”

  With a guttural groan of need and possession, Dugan slanted his mouth over Adanel’s again, searing her lips to his. Then his fingers began to increase their rhythm until Adanel could not hold back any longer and cried out, begging for more while claiming it was too much.

  Dugan flipped her over and, pulling up her backside, he thrust into her. Feeling her body respond to his, her hips pushed back to meet him as he pulled back before thrusting hard once again. Adanel shouted cries of satisfaction and need. She wanted him harder, deeper, and Dugan quickened his movements.

  Adanel pressed her cheek into the pillow as she let herself be consumed by the pounding strokes and the feel of him owning her again and again. Pleasure mixed with sensations that felt too good to be pain.

  “Murt, I missed you—how you feel, how you sound, every last damn thing about you I missed,” Dugan murmured against her back, never slowing as he drove her to the edge.

  Adanel screamed as wave after wave of intense pleasure assaulted her. Dugan smiled in triumph and then hollered her name as he thrust deep one last time. Not a soul in the vicinity could have mistaken the shout for anything but what it was—pure, indescribable pleasure.

  Dugan collapsed next to her with his body half sprawled over hers. He felt like he weighed three times his normal weight and he could barely lift his head to speak.

  Feeling Adanel wiggle, he removed his leg and let her roll to her side. Reaching up to run fingers through his hair, Adanel whispered, “I love you, Dugan, with all that I am, I love you. Never doubt it.”

  Once again his body stiffened. But instead of pulling away, his gaze locked with her luminous brown eyes. “Do you have any idea how much that means to me?”

  Adanel blinked and felt tears begin to form and fall down her cheeks. She shook her head.

  “Every battle I have ever fought, every friend I have ever lost, every hard decision I have ever faced, I would make again because they brought me to you. You, Adanel, made all the cac I’ve ever done or put up with worth it.” He held her gaze. “I was afraid I lost you.”

  Adanel shook her head. “Not possible.”

  Dugan wiped away a tear. “If I haven’t driven you away yet, I don’t think anything can.”

  “I’m going nowhere.”

  Dugan cradled her face in his hands. “You are the love of my life, Adanel. And I will never give you cause to doubt that again.”

  Adanel swallowed and then flung her arms around him to hold him close so that she could whisper in his ear, “You’re everything I ever dreamed of, Dugan. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my body. Now and forever.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wrapped in a blanket, Adanel stood at the solar window and smiled. The revelry from the feast could be heard through the windows and in the halls. She had never seen her clansmen celebrate as freely or with as much joy. The bonfires had been lit. Tybalt, Garrett, or Loman had seen to it. Most likely all three in some way.

  At the time, she gave no thought to leaving the great hall full of clansmen with her backside soaked in some type of meat stew. She still had no idea exactly what she and Dugan had sat on or who put it there, but suspected it had been Nigel. The man had constantly played practical jokes on her and Kara when they were growing up. Also, he was the only one who had the nerve—and was senseless enough—to actually follow through with such an insane idea. And though she would never tell him, Adanel was glad he did. It had forced her and Dugan to speak to each other. Without something so unexpected and jolting, she was not sure they would have come together until too much time had passed.

  Hearing the door scrape open, Adanel twisted her neck to see Dugan come in with a tray of miscellaneous food items and a pitcher of ale or water. He gave her a wink and, angling his foot awkwardly, he closed the door. After placing the tray down on the table, he sauntered over to where she stood and pulled her back against his chest.

  Nuzzling his mouth against her neck, he said, “I brought food, my lady.”

  Adanel tilted her head, simply enjoying the sensation of being in his arms and the feeling of being loved without secrets or constraints. No matter what happened with the future of the clan, the port, or his lairdship, nothing would change this. They had claimed each other multiple times in the past few hours and no doubt would do so again and again in the weeks and months to come just to reassure each other they were still there and would remain at each other’s side.

  Adanel’s stomach rumbled, and Dugan chuckled before lifting his head. “You, aithinne, are hungry.”

  Her smile lit up her face. “I am. It is not helping smelling our clothes covered in stew.”

  “Good point.” Dugan walked over to the corner where their clothes lay in a heap. “The odor of these will turn to a stench soon.” He then picked them up and walked over to open the door.

  “I need those!” Adanel exclaimed, but without enmity. “You have other things to wear in this room. I do not!”

  Dugan returned to her side and playfully looked underneath the blanket she had wrapped around her confirming what he already knew. Adanel had not a stitch on her. “We will fix that later. I’ll have someone fetch all your things from the Village Tower and bring them here.”

  Adanel arched a brow. “First, my things have not been in the Village Tower for over a week. Seems someone”—she elbowed his side—“ordered for no one to be there when I was in my chambers.”

  Dugan gave an unapologetic shrug. “Of course I gave that order. The idea of single men so close to you while you were sleeping or bathing . . . you were far too accessible for one guard to protect.”

  “Well, it was making things miserable for Garrett.”

  “I knew that, and I did not care.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that and I did care, which is why I moved out last week and into the chambers on the second floor.”

  Dugan’s brow furrowed. “That’s two floors down. I want you here.”

  “And I will sleep here, but I am not bathing and preparing for the day in this room. You need your chambers and I have found that having my own dayroom is quite convenient.”

  “Fine, as long as your nights are here with me,” Dugan conceded, and put his chin on her shoulder. He studied all the commotion outside. The bonfires lit up the sky and the dancing had commenced. More people were gathering, and in general, the activity was growing. “Everyone seems to be having a good time. They were clearing the tables and starting to dismantle them to make room for singing and dancing when I went to find us some food.”

  “Were they laying out the swords?” she asked.

  He crinkled his brow. “Aye.”

  “Loman was telling me all about the sword dance. It’s what he was showing me when you glowered at him.”

  Dugan gave her a possessive squeeze. “He won’t make that mistake again.”

  Adanel giggled. “I don’t think any man who saw you tonight will ever talk to me again. Still, I was looking forward to trying the McTiernay’s test of endurance.”

  “That it is.”

  “Have you ever w
on?”

  “I’ve come close, but I can only go so long before I start losing my balance and dancing on the blades instead of between them. Nimble my feet aren’t.” Dugan gave her nose a quick kiss. “No dancing tonight, but I did bring food,” he said, using his chin to gesture toward the table. “I was surprised to find servants still at their duty and they quickly came to my rescue.”

  “I’m just glad you were still able to find us something to eat,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  He gave her a single nod. “You have no idea how right you are. I went down just in time. In another hour, I doubt anything will be left. Those working will then have the onerous job of cleaning up.”

  Adanel rested her cheek against his chest. “They won’t be. Those making merry will do it in the morning. With the exception of the kitchens, those who are working tonight have the next two days off.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  Adanel furrowed her brow and pulled away slightly to look at him. “What is? Because they were much appreciative. Out of everything, I think that offer has endeared me to them the most. Well, that and the pay.”

  It was Dugan’s turn to look confused. “I was talking about the kitchens. The food was actually very good and I have a feeling that we are going to suffer the consequences for not letting them also have time off.”

  Adanel’s brown eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, there will be no retaliation,” she stated without doubt. “First, everyone is well aware of what would happen if they did. They would be gone, no matter how important they were.”

  Dugan gave her a crooked smile and a small chuckle. “Aye, I think everyone has figured that out.”

  Adanel playfully elbowed him in the side. “Kara was furious with me about your little stunt with Fearan. The man was truly shaken at the prospects of losing his job and having to move and start all over.”