Highland Belle

by Patricia Grasso

  Yes. Springs face was vivid scarlet. What of Lord MacArthur?

  Evading the question, Brigette dunked her head beneath the water, but her cousins words had somehow conjured up the man. Spring looked up in surprise when the door opened, and Brigettes gaze followed hers.

  M-m-my lord, she said. Im b-bathing.

  So I see. Iain smiled lazily.

  Do you mind? Brigette asked haughtily, arching a perfectly shaped brow at him.

  I dinna mind at all, he answered pleasantly, as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched, but if ye must bath first, leave the water warm for me. Stretching his long legs out, Iain relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the sight of his wife at her toilet.

  Tilting her upturned nose in the air, Brigette pointedly refused to acknowledge his infuriating presence, though she was unable to forget he was there. Finishing her bath quickly, she stepped from the tub and Spring toweled her dry. Brigette felt mortified to be naked beneath her cousins hand and her husbands eye. When Spring reached for a bedrobe, Iains voice stopped her.

  Dinna bother wi that, lass. Iain rose and stretched. Looking meaningfully at the tirewoman, he began to undress. With a squeak of dismay, Spring fled the chamber.

  Iain glanced at Brigette, nude and frozen where she stood. Get into the bed, he ordered, not unkindly.

  W-what?

  Is yer hearin impaired? he teased. I said, get into the bed. For a long moment, dark eyes and green clashed across the short distance separating them.

  The ride from the hunting lodge wearied me, Brigette said, turning away to slip into the bed. I do whatever I choose, not what you command. With that, she yanked the coverlet up to her chin. Sly promptly joined her.

  Iain ignored her remark and climbed into the tub, then groaned with pleasure as his body sank into the warm water. Ye might thank me for savin yer friend there, he chided gently, casting a mildly reproachful look at Brigette, who was watching him warily.

  Thank you, my lord.

  First thin tomorrow, he continued, well get some sort of distinguishin collar for Sly. We dinna want the castle folk reachin for their weapons when hes aboot.

  Thank you, again, my lord.

  Unconcerned with his magnificent nakedness, Iain climbed out of the tub and toweled himself dry. The earl is quite taken wi ye, he added casually.

  W-what? Surprised, Brigette opened the eyes shed snapped shut against her husbands nudity. She was of the opinion the old man had taken an instant dislike to her.

  With his hands resting on his lean hips, Iain stood beside the bed and gazed down at her. I would clear the air between us, my lady. Will ye answer a question?

  Brigette nodded, afraid to refuse, and her gaze drifted to the flaccid appendage perched at his groin. Even at rest, she thought irrelevantly, its large.

  As Iain noted her expression, his lips twitched with amusement. Yesterday ye told Ross ye loved him, he said. I am Ross, sweetheart, and I havena changed. Why are ye angry wi me?

  You lied to me.

  Iain lifted Sly from the bed and set him on the floor. Gently disengaging Brigettes fingers from their tense grip on the coverlet, he slid in beside her. Ye also lied, he reminded without accusation.

  But you knew! she blurted.

  Knew what?

  You knew I was lying.

  So! Iain chuckled. Yer angry wi me cuz I knew ye were lyin, but ye didna realize I was also lyin. Correct?

  I guess, she murmured, her eyes downcast. Put into that context, her anger did seem childish.

  Iain gently forced her to look at him, and when she did, he smiled almost tenderly. May I ask why ye lied in the first place, and why ye ran away? Embarrassed, Brigette tried to look away, but he prevented her from doing so. Well be married a verra long time, my lady, and I would have this behind us.

  I-I was insulted b-because you neither cared to attend our wedding nor rode out with your men to greet me.

  I swear it was circumstances that prevented me, hinny. I did care that I couldna attend our weddin and rode all night to reach yer camp by mornin. Yed already flown.

  Oh. Brigette was shamefaced.

  Drawing her close, Iain pressed a kiss on her forehead. Would ye care to ask me somethin? When she looked away, he added, Dinna be shy.

  Why did you lie to me? she asked, her need to know stronger than her embarrassment.

  Cuz I knew ye didna like me. I believed it best to become acquainted wiout our real names gettin in the way.

  But . . . Brigette broke off.

  Spit it out, Iain persisted. If somethin else is botherin ye, I want to hear it.

  Humiliated, Brigette stared at the mat of dark hair covering his chest. W-why did you hurt me last night?

  Iain scowled, angry with himself. Im sorry for that, hinny. When ye said ye hated me, I nearly lost control.

  But I dont. Brigette looked up and met his dark-eyed gaze. Hate you, I mean. It was my anger speaking.

  Iain grinned. Ye dinna hate me?

  No, she whispered, shaking her head in a way that reminded him of a little girl.

  Well, thats a fair beginnin for us. Without warning, Iain lowered his lips to hers, felt her trembling fear and kissed her gently, so very gently.

  Drawing back, he smiled and vowed, I willna hurt ye again, my lady, I swear. Again his lips met hers, kissing more deeply this time.

  Brie, she breathed against his lips.

  What?

  Call me Brie — all my friends do.

  Brie, Iain murmured as his lips covered hers.

  Brigettes lips parted in an unmistakable invitation, and Iains tongue slipped in, caressing the moist velvet within. Intoxicated by her husbands lingering kiss, Brigettes arms creeped up and entwined his neck, her hands moving across his broad, muscular shoulders. Leaving her lips, his tongue teased a path across her silky cheek to her earlobe, then slipped down to her slender throat, sending hot shivers dancing down her spine.

  One of his hands wandered to her breasts, then caressed and weighed the small but heavy globes in the palm of his hand. His head dipped lower, and his burning lips blazed a trail to those soft mounds. Drawing back, Iain paused to admire and circled one rose-hued nipple with the tip of his forefinger.

  I love yer titties, he whispered huskily, so soft and firm. Yer nipples are large, good for arousin a mon and feedin a sucklin bairn.

  Brigette quivered at his words, feeling a thousand airy butterflies winging within her stomach. At the same time, a familiar throbbing sensation began pulsing between her thighs.

  Iain lowered his head to one tingling breast, and his mouth captured its sensitive nipple, the tip of his tongue taunting the hardened peak. When his lips pulled masterfully on it, Brigette was caught in maddening pleasure. Moaning throatily, she yielded to her husbands powerful force and arched upward, her hands almost desperately pressing his head to her breast.

  Iains hand slid between her thighs, which parted at his light yet commanding touch. One of his skillful fingers traced a path down the wet crevice and then up again. With his wifes own juices, he massaged her female button and groaned to feel it swelling beneath his finger.

  With his shaft dripping excitement, Iain knelt between Brigettes thighs, then raised her hips. The knob of his desire touched her moist entry. Its tip teased her nether lips, gently coaxing them open like the petals of a blossoming flower, and then pierced her hot, tight passage. As he moved his hips seductively, Iain watched his fingers taunt his wifes swollen jewel and admired its passionate size.

  Wild contractions surged through Brigettes body, and she arched her hips instinctively, urgently. Fill me, Iain! she wailed, her brilliant green eyes opening and startling him.

  The invitation was irresistible. Iain buried his shaft to the hilt of her female sheath. He pulled back, then thrust fiercely again and again.

  Brigettes body rose to meet each mighty thrust of Iains. She cried out, carried away by wave after wave of blissful sensation. Clasping her tightly, Iain shuddered and flooded her thro
bbing passage, which squeezed every drop of life he had to give.

  After several breathless moments, Iain lowered Brigette to the bed and then kissed her. It was so gentle and tender a kiss that a teardrop slowly coursed down her flushed cheek. Tenderly, he brushed it away and lay down, then drew her close. Both were silent, neither willing to risk losing the love theyd found in their bed, and then they slept.

  6

  Shifting Slys weight into the crook of one arm, Iain opened his chamber door and entered silently. He set the fox down, then looked at the bed where Brigette slept.

  Man and beast were irresistibly drawn to the sleeping woman. Sly padded across the chamber and leaped onto the bed, then snuggled comfortably against his mistresss back.

  Iain followed Sly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leisurely surveyed his wifes charms. Her copper hair was in adorable disarray; her creamy skin and rosy lips tantalized his memory of the previous night. Brigettes small, turned-up nose combined with her delicately pointed chin to give proof of her irrepressible nature.

  A smile tugged at Iains lips when he realized he hadnt even begun to inventory what was hidden beneath the coverlet. Brigettes lips were moist and parted in the most compelling manner. Iain leaned over and pressed his lips against them.

  Mmmm. A soft sigh of contentment escaped Brigettes throat.

  Iain sat back and grinned as her eyes fluttered open. Warm and lushly green, he thought, eyes the color of a Highland landscape in summer.

  Supper? she asked groggily.

  Was last night, he answered.

  Oh. Sly?

  Beside ye.

  Brigette reached behind to touch the fox and smiled to feel him snuggled so close.

  Well breakfast together in the great hall, Iain said. There are others here ye must meet.

  Brigette nodded. Iain caressed her silken cheek, and turning her head, she pressed a kiss on his hand.

  Well ride to Loch Awe after breakfast, he continued, his voice hoarse at her gesture, and later well visit wi several of the crofters so they can meet Dunridges new lady.

  Sly must be in agony, she said abruptly, thinking the fox had been penned in their chamber all night.

  Ive just returned from takin him out, Iain said, then chuckled. I do believe hes made a conquest of Moireach. There was an empty bowl on the floor this mornin. Oh, I almost forgot. From the top of his plaid Iain produced a leather dogs collar, dyed a brilliant shade of yellow. This is for Sly.

  Its certainly bright.

  We dinna want puir Sly mistaken for a wild beastie, do we?

  Smiling, Brigette shook her head and sat up, letting the coverlet dip to reveal the enticing swell of her breasts. At her bidding, Iain fastened the startling yellow collar around the foxs neck.

  Now, dear Sly, she complimented, patting the fox, you are assuredly the most dashing beast in this realm. Wouldnt you say, Iain?

  Verra bonnie, he agreed as Sly, frustrated in his attempt to remove the collar, leaped off the bed. All the Highland vixens will be frantic wi yearnin when they see him. Shall I call Spring for ye, hinny?

  A mischievous gleam leaped into green eyes, and Brigette let the coverlet fall to her waist, exposing her perfectly formed breasts. One hand slid up Iains arm to caress his cheek. Is it so late? she murmured. Must we breakfast now?

  Iain stared at her beckoning, rose-hued nipples. With a growl of pure lust, he pushed her back to the pillows, but her hands reached out to hold him at bay.

  Wont we be missed in the great hall? she teased with feigned innocence.

  No. His lips covered hers in an endless, devouring kiss.

  Morning was a feeble old man by the time Iain and Brigette walked into the great hall, which strangely enough was still crowded. Feeling many curious eyes turn in their direction, Brigette hesitated for a fraction of a second.

  Dinna be nervous, Iain whispered. Black Jack is the worst Dunridge can offer, and ye weathered that storm quite nicely.

  Im not nervous, she returned, lifting her chin a notch, merely surprised to find so many people congregating here at this hour of the day.

  Is that so? A dark eyebrow arched at her in mock suspicion. Was there a hidden motive behind yer seduction of me this mornin?

  Blood rushed to her face, but before she could reply, Percy was standing in front of them. Good mornin, brother, he greeted. Lady Brigette.

  Brie, she corrected, smiling warmly at him. Call me Brie. Remember?

  I havena forgotten. Percy looked at Iain. As ye can see, those who could lingered aboot to steal a peek at yer wife. Ye disappointed a great many last night by stayin secluded in yer chamber. Iain frowned at his brothers teasing.

  Wheres yer pet? Percy asked, turning to his sister-in-law.

  Recalling the previous days fiasco in the garden, Brigette blushed and stammered, Iain — I — we thought it best that Sly remain upstairs.

  Tis ill done of ye, Brie. No one has secrets at Dunridge, and many are here to see for themselves this miraculously trained beast of yers.

  Leave off, Iain growled. Brie and I are verra hungry and want to eat in peace. Ye ken?

  I ken, Percy teased, especially considerin the strenuous exercise to which ye mustve subjected yerselves.

  Brigette flushed with embarrassment; Iain scowled, thinking the whole castle probably knew the exact number of times hed had his wife. Without another word to his brother, Iain led his wife toward the high board.

  Brigette tensed when she saw a beautiful young woman seated at the place usually reserved for the ranking lady of the castle. As the wife of Dunridges heir, Brigette was that lady. Unless . . .

  Is your father wed a second time? she whispered.

  No. Iains gaze followed hers, and he understood the bent of her thoughts. Damn Antonia! he cursed inwardly.

  At the high board, Iain greeted his father. Brigette, uncertain of the earls reception, smiled but remained silent.

  Black Jack nodded at her, then looked at his son. Well, yeve had yerself a fine rest.

  Yes. Iain grinned at his fathers teasing. And Im takin a few hours to show Brie some of the sights. Unless theres somethin urgent?

  When ye return will be time enough to begin work. Black Jacks gaze drifted to Brigette. Ye appear well rested, lassie. Wheres yer pet?

  Safely shut away in our chamber, where hed better be when we return.

  Black Jack burst out laughing. Dinna worry on that account, he assured her. Yer husband is yer laird and master. If hes allowin ye to keep the beastie, Ive nae problem wi it. Black Jack flicked a glance at Iain, then added drily, Im only the earl and his father.

  Standing nearby, Percy hooted with laughter, and the earl cast his youngest son a scathing glance. Percys laughter choked off abruptly to muffled chuckles.

  Iain could no longer delay the inevitable. He turned to acknowledge the woman seated beside Black Jack.

  Antonia MacKinnon MacArthur was a long-legged, full-bosomed, curvaceously slim beauty. Crowning her goddesslike body was an angels face. She had eyes of blue, a small, straight nose, and skin of ivory silk. Pale blond hair, thick and luxuriant, was pulled away from her incredible face and plaited into one braid that fell to her waist.

  The two women eyed each other stonily, natural enemies at first sight. Brigette was furious that Antonia had usurped her seat as Dunridges ranking lady; Antonia knew Brigette was the reason her scheme to become Dunridges next countess had failed.

  Brigette, I present Lady Antonia, my brother Malcolms widow, Iain said stiffly. Antonia, this is Lady Brigette.

  Determined to make her young adversary feel like an outsider, Antonia looked her over, then smiled coldly. Returning the frigid stare, Brigette merely nodded her head in acknowledgment, her haughty gesture confounding the other woman.

  Iain hoped to avoid the brewing storm by leading Brigette to the end of the table. Later, he would order Antonia to give up the position shed enjoyed until now. Malcolm was dead and shed not managed to produce an heir. Brigette was Dunridge
s ranking lady and would be treated as such.

  Tsk! Tsk! Antonia whispered loudly to the earl. I dinna believe Sassenach women are properly schooled in manners.

  Brigette whirled around. I beg your pardon?

  And well ye should, Antonia snapped. Ye failed to curtsy to me.

  Nor shall I, Brigette said in a voice oozing superiority, delighting their audience. I am Dunridges ranking lady, and stealing my chair will not change your position.

  Black Jack and Percy howled with laughter. Antonia cast them a disgusted glance, then turned beseeching eyes on Iain, appealing for his support.

  Dinna upset yerself, hinny, Iain said to Brigette. Staring coldly at Antonia, he added, This is the last time shell be sittin there.

  Iain led Brigette to the far end of the high board, where they would have a small measure of privacy. Once seated, he stared pointedly at the halls occupants, who were watching in barely contained amusement. It was obvious to all that Iain had been downed by Cupids arrow. Beneath Iains dour stare, the MacArthur warriors dispersed to their various duties, but lingering so long had been worth the wait.

  Good mornin. Moireach appeared from nowhere to greet them, then chuckled. Or whats left of it.

  She set two bowls of steaming oat porridge, accompanied by cream and honey, on the table in front of them. There was freshly baked bread, creamy butter, jam, and cheese. Shed brought a mug of brown ale for Iain and milk for Brigette.

  Im not overly fond of milk, Brigette said. Id prefer ale or wine.

  Now, my lady, the housekeeper insisted gently, yer ripe to get wi child. Ye must drink a mug of milk each and every day. Of course, yell drink more when Im certain this rascals seed has hit its mark. Its best to drink it in the mornin if yeve nae fondness for it. Then ye willna be frettin aboot it the whole livelong day.

  As you wish. Brigette forced herself to smile pleasantly at the well-intentioned woman, then lifted the mug and sipped the milk.

  Ye make such a handsome couple, Moireach gushed. I canna wait to see yer bairns.

  Brigette choked on the milk, and Iain, smothering a chuckle, slapped her back helpfully.

  Well, Ive duties need attendin, Moireach said, turning away. Im cookin Iains favorite for supper — haggis.