The Wedding

by Julie Garwood

  “You were also angry though, weren’t you?”

  Aye, he had been angry, though not with his wife. His fury had been self-directed, and upon reflection, he realized it was purposeful as well, for he had it as a shield to guard himself against his own vulnerability. She had dared to touch his heart, and honest to God, he still didn’t know how he’d let that happen. Damn it, he didn’t even like her.

  Connor was quick to recognize his lie and let out a low growl of frustration. He decided then that since what had already happened couldn’t be undone, as long as he stayed in control in the future, he would be content.

  “Are you ever going to answer me?”

  He leaned down and began to nibble on her earlobe, feeling arrogantly pleased when he noticed she shivered in reaction. “What did you ask?”

  She couldn’t believe he would treat her concerns so lightly. She repeated her question and added a nudge to get him to pay attention.

  “I wasn’t angry with you.”

  He could see she didn’t believe him. His wife obviously needed more praise for her performance, he supposed. He wasn’t sure what to say that would make her happy. He had been satisfied. And well-served, he admitted. She surely knew he never would have left her until both of them had reached fulfillment. He wasn’t at all used to explaining anything to anyone, however, and perhaps that was why he wasn’t any good at it, he reasoned. He needed to say something now, though, and so he decided to sum up his reactions with one word that would certainly convince her she had proven satisfactory.

  “Finished.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I was finished.”

  Because of their close proximity, he’d naturally been considerate and spoken in a low voice. His wife wasn’t as considerate. She shouted her displeasure into his ear. “You are the most pigheaded, insensitive, barbaric . . .”

  He clamped his hand down over her mouth before she could finish giving him her opinion. She could have come up with another hundred remarks too, if he’d kept silent and let her think of some, but he interrupted her concentration by asking her the most appalling question, and she had to think about giving him an answer sure to destroy his pride for a full month.

  “Do you want me to make love to you again?” He lifted his hand away from her mouth.

  “When hell freezes over.” She didn’t actually shout, but her voice was still loud enough for his men to hear.

  “You will not shout at me ever again. Is that understood?”

  “It is,” she answered.

  “My hearing is never going to be the same.”

  “I’m sorry. What you said took me by surprise and I . . . Finished, Connor? Is that how you thought to reassure me?”

  “It was a compliment. I was obviously satisfied with you or I wouldn’t have been finished. I’m a man of few words, Brenna.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  He turned his attention to the rewarding pleasure of kissing her.

  “I don’t usually feel so unsure of myself,” she whispered. “But it was my first time.”

  “I noticed.”

  He kissed his way down the side of her neck.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “I like the way you taste.”

  She shifted her position to give him better access to her shoulder. “How do I taste?”

  “Like honey.”

  He heard her sigh in the darkness. It would have been easy for him to take her by surprise, but he would never do such a dishonorable thing. Brenna was going to have to give him permission, and if she didn’t give it soon, he would have to leave her while he had enough discipline.

  “Do you know what I think?” she whispered.

  “No, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t want you to—never mind. I mean to say that I . . .” She couldn’t go on, for Connor had just reached the valley between her breasts, distracting her entirely.

  “You’re soft everywhere. You make me burn to have you.”

  She thought his words were wonderfully romantic. For a man of few words, he was doing exceptionally well at giving her exactly what she longed to hear.

  “Is there anything you don’t like about me?”

  “Aye, there is,” he whispered. “You talk too much.”

  “You turn my head with your flowery words, husband. Make love to me now.”

  “I’ll hurt you.”

  He didn’t seem concerned about her discomfort though, for he’d already pushed her chemise down to her hips. He paused to kiss each of her knees before finishing his task of ridding her of her undergarment.

  His hands were everywhere. He stroked her legs, her thighs, her hips, and her breasts. His gentle touch was maddening and made her restless for more. She wanted to caress him with the same care he was showing her and was about to demand he let go of her when he snatched the very thought right out of her mind by leaning down and kissing her breasts. His tongue brushed over one nipple, and she thought she would die from the exquisite torment, and then he began to suckle. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a sound very like a whimper.

  Her stomach was just as sensitive to his touch, and then he moved lower. She couldn’t imagine what he thought he was going to do, until he was there, at the junction of her thighs. She kept her legs locked together to keep him from going further. He forced them apart and continued to do what he wanted to do, and she was soon too caught up in the rush of ecstasy his mouth and his tongue evoked to be properly appalled.

  He made love to her in ways she’d never, ever imagined possible. She couldn’t make herself stop arching up against him. She raised her knees and cried out when she felt herself begin to tighten around him.

  He couldn’t wait any longer to be inside her. He knelt between her thighs then, lifted her hips, and entered her with one powerful thrust. He tried to remember to be gentle with her, but damn, his control had deserted him again and it was impossible to hold anything back. He wanted it to last all night. She wouldn’t let him slow down though. She drove him on with her sweet cries and her passionate kisses. He didn’t know if he was hurting her or pleasuring her. Her climax forced his own, and once he’d given her his seed, he didn’t have enough strength left to keep from collapsing on top of her.

  She was in much the same condition. Her breathing was uneven, her heart was pounding a frantic beat, and she was trembling all over. It took her long minutes to make herself stop sighing and start thinking again. Then she wished she hadn’t bothered. Reason meant worrying, and dear God, how could she ever look at him again after what she’d begged him to keep doing to her?

  She had acted like an animal in heat, hadn’t she? She was suddenly desperate for reassurance before her embarrassment turned into shame. She wouldn’t beg or demand he convince her that what they’d done had been all right, or let him know she was at all embarrassed now. He might say things just to appease her then, and not mean any of it. She’d catch him by surprise, she decided, so that he wouldn’t guard his reaction.

  “Connor?” God help her, even her voice was trembling. “Are you dead then?”

  He smiled against her neck. “No.”

  “Did you hurt me?”

  She couldn’t believe she’d asked him such an absurd question. She’d meant to tell him he hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t she?

  It was apparent to him that she hadn’t quite recovered from their lovemaking just yet. He was arrogantly satisfied, of course, because he was fully responsible for her condition.

  His heat was making her drowsy. She didn’t want to fall asleep before she’d gotten rid of her embarrassment and meant only to close her eyes so she could concentrate.

  “Do you know what just happened?”

  She smiled in anticipation, for surely he was now going to give her the reassurance she needed. She should have known better.

  “Hell just froze over.”

  Chapter 7

  Brenna was in a fit mood the following morn
ing. The rain had ended, the sun was bright, and no one, not even Connor, could put a wrinkle in her happiness.

  It kept getting better too. Although the men smiled while they watched her eat her morning meal, they didn’t comment on her appetite, and after she returned from the creek dressed in the MacAlister plaid, Quinlan complimented her on the perfect pleats she’d made in the woolen material. He seemed to think she’d only just acquired the art.

  She felt it was her duty to correct him. “My father made Rachel learn how to fashion a plaid because she was supposed to marry Laird MacNare, but Mother thought it would be a good idea for all of her daughters to master the technique. My parents did like to get as much as they could for their coins.”

  “Your sister was promised to MacNare?”

  She nodded. “She was indeed. Connor might have ended up married to Rachel. She’s the pretty one in our family,” she thought to add.

  Quinlan couldn’t imagine there was any other woman more pleasing to the eye than his mistress. He had already noticed she wasn’t vain, and her comment only confirmed his belief.

  “Will it be another long day’s ride?”

  “No, mi’lady. We’re very close to home now.”

  The news thrilled her. Her smile proved to be contagious, for when Quinlan glanced at the others, they were all smiling too.

  She excused herself from his company as soon as she spotted Connor leading his horse across the clearing. She ran to her husband, put her arms around his neck, gave him an enthusiastic good morning kiss, and then remembered she shouldn’t show him any affection in front of others. Surprisingly, he neither snapped nor growled at her. ’Twas a fact he kissed her back.

  He did criticize her afterward, of course. It seemed to be a natural inclination of his, she decided and was, therefore, unperturbed.

  “You are without discipline.” He then lifted her up onto his horse, swung up behind her, and settled her on his thighs. “Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

  “It’s too fine a day to argue. You are wrong, of course. I have as much discipline as you do.”

  “I haven’t seen any yet. Stop twisting about and lean back against me.”

  “My rope’s twisted.” After explaining her problem, she pulled the necklace up, straightened the rope, and then let the wooden disk drop back down under her plaid.

  “What in God’s name is that thing?”

  “Have you only just noticed it?”

  “No. I’ve only just decided to ask you about it.”

  “The necklace is a gift from my father. I have my very own design to prove it belongs to me, and if I’m ever in trouble, I need only send the disk to one of my sisters or brothers for immediate assistance. Father had them made for all of his children.”

  “Get rid of it.”

  Her gasp was enough to upset the stallion. He reared his head up and let out a snort of indignation. She reached down and patted him. “I’ll do no such thing, Connor. I plan to have one made for you too.”

  “You will not.”

  “It’s a tradition.”

  “It’s an insult to me, wife.”

  “We shall discuss this matter when we are home.”

  “We’re through discussing it.”

  She didn’t disagree with him. He was wrong about that too, she thought to herself. The man was going to listen to reason and accept the tradition, even if it took her a good week of nagging. “Why are we waiting?”

  He knew she was deliberately changing the topic, but he went along just to get her to stop arguing with him. He wanted her cooperation today. She was about to meet Kincaid, and that would be unsettling for her. His brother did have a way of terrifying everyone he met. It was yet another reason why Connor so admired him.

  “Owen went to the creek to collect whatever was left behind.”

  “That was thoughtful of him,” she replied. “Still, your men shouldn’t leave their things about for anyone to take.”

  He thought she was jesting, and he waited for her to laugh. She didn’t, though, and once he realized she was sincere, he didn’t explain it to her. A minute later Owen returned with his mistress’s belongings. He put them in her satchel, then tied the baggage to Aeden’s horse. She never noticed. Connor wasn’t at all surprised, of course, for his wife seemed to walk around in a daze most of the time.

  His thoughts returned to Alec then. “You will meet my brother today. He won’t hurt you.”

  She thought his remark extremely peculiar. “I would never worry about such a thing.”

  “You will when you meet him. You’d best find some of this discipline you boast of having, Brenna. Do not disgrace me by crying or fainting.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I shall like him because he’s your brother, and it’s my duty to get along with all of your family. He won’t intimidate me.”

  “Yes, he will. He isn’t as pleasant as I am.”

  She burst into laughter. He gave up trying to caution her then and turned his attention to more important matters, such as learning how to be diplomatic before it was time to explain his actions to the man who ruled the Highlands.

  A full hour passed in silence before she spoke again.

  “Connor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever seen me cry or faint?”

  “No.”

  “Then please explain your reason for insulting me? I’m most curious to hear it.”

  He didn’t answer her.

  If he wouldn’t explain, the least he could do was apologize. She knew she would never get him to, though, because he was too stubborn to ever admit he might have misjudged her.

  Proving him wrong would be enough to repair the damage he’d done to her pride. It would be easy to accomplish, for she had been properly trained and fully understood what was expected of her. She would let Connor see how unafraid she was when she greeted his brother. Surely, she would like him. He was part of her family now, after all, and God willing, if she could just remember not to speak until she was spoken to and behave with a little humility, he would like her too.

  A few minutes later, the fortress came into view. Her breath caught in the back of her throat at first sight of the magnificent structure. A tall stone wall surrounded the fortress that must have taken half a century to build. Two soldiers, wearing expressions as cold and forbidding as the wall they guarded, watched them cross the drawbridge.

  She thought it odd they didn’t speak to Connor, then decided they were waiting for him to give them permission.

  There were hundreds more of the frightening warriors inside the lower bailey. None of them welcomed Connor either.

  “Is one of those men scowling at us your brother, perchance?”

  “No.”

  “Is it always so quiet here?”

  “No.”

  Connor wasn’t in the mood to expound. She decided to follow his example and not say another word. She would have held to her decision too if she hadn’t been taken by surprise when they reached the upper courtyard and she saw the beautiful flowers bordering the front of the castle.

  “It’s lovely here,” she whispered. “Who planted the flowers?”

  “Jamie.”

  She vowed to keep quiet. “I hope he was well rewarded for his efforts.”

  “Not he, she,” Connor corrected. “Don’t step on them or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Servants may voice their opinions then?”

  “Jamie isn’t a servant. She’s mistress here.”

  She would have fallen off the horse if Connor hadn’t tightened his hold around her waist. “Mistress?”

  “You’ll like her.”

  She didn’t even try to pray for patience. “I will not like her. You’re going to have to make her leave, Connor. There can only be one mistress in my home.”

  “Jamie is mistress of Alec’s home.”

  “Then why did she plant flowers for you? It was of course very thoughtful of her, but I cannot help wondering
why she went to such trouble.”

  He finally understood what was at the root of her misconception. “This isn’t my land. It’s Alec’s. How could you think it was?”

  She felt like screaming but didn’t dare speak above a whisper because of the audience watching them like hawks. “I’ll tell you exactly why I thought it was your home. I was told we were going home, that’s why, and since no one bothered to inform me you meant to pay a call on your brother, I naturally concluded this belonged to you.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “So I now understand,” she agreed. “It would have been thoughtful of you to mention our destination.”

  Connor didn’t respond to her veiled criticism.

  The courtyard was quickly filling up with warriors. All of them were dressed in plaids with muted colors so similar to Connor’s she knew she was going to get them mixed up and not be able to tell a Kincaid soldier from a MacAlister.

  They were all staring at Connor and her. She straightened her spine until it felt as though it was going to snap, stared straight ahead, and tried to look serene. The welcome they were receiving was most discouraging. Was everyone who lived in the Highlands always in such a bad mood? These soldiers surely were. Their attitude was also puzzling. Connor was Alec’s brother, for heaven’s sake, not his enemy. Didn’t the difference matter to these heathens?

  Her husband dismounted first before turning to assist her. She stared into his eyes, looking for a sign that everything was going to be all right. He didn’t blink or give her any indication at all of what he was thinking. She didn’t squeeze herself up against him as she wanted to, but walked behind her husband with her hands down at her sides, her head held high, and her gaze fully directed on the center of his back.

  Quinlan and Aeden moved to flank her on either side, while Donald, Owen, and Giric followed behind. When they reached the steps leading up to the entrance, Connor continued on, but Brenna and the others were forced by Kincaid soldiers to stay behind.

  His brother obviously wanted to speak to Connor in private before she was introduced to him. She hoped they took a long, long while, as she now dreaded her audience with Alec Kincaid. The possibility that one brother might actually hurt another hadn’t entered her mind. Then she heard god-awful shouting coming through the doors and she could think of nothing else.