The Highland Laird's Bride

by Nicole Locke

  Lioslath’s hands jerked and she cut the rabbit instead of its skin. It had been hours since she felled the deer and they returned to the traps for the other game. Hours, and Bram hadn’t talked and neither had she. They had fallen into a comfortable compatibility as if they’d done this all their lives together.

  At ease, he appeared content to be here with her. She couldn’t fully contain the feelings bubbling inside her. Feelings she hadn’t had in so long she hardly recognised them. And they were happening so fast. After so much pain, she thought this marriage was simply another sacrifice. It was like bracing herself for the pain of the firepit, and instead feeling Dog’s tongue against her hand.

  But Dog never asked her questions she didn’t want to answer.

  ‘The English?’ she said. ‘I told you.’

  ‘There’s more, though, isn’t there?’

  So much more, but she thought she’d have a reprieve in the quiet of the forest.

  ‘I know nae one was killed and I can see the damage, but I doona know how you fared.’

  He wanted to know her feelings? Their torches burning brightly, the English had swarmed the village like darkness. At any moment she had been sure they would burn their homes and slaughter her entire clan. But they kept the torches burning brightly while they harvested the fields, while they drank their ale and stole the winter supplies. Torches burned for days, until they were tossed upon the fields, ensuring nothing would be left.

  ‘I... It is too fine a day for that,’ she said finally.

  ‘There’s more you didn’t tell me of the English and your hair,’ he said softly. ‘I know it isn’t vanity that makes you cut it still. You work too hard to care for appearances.’

  She didn’t like that he noticed her severing the growing locks. She didn’t want to explain why she needed more time before she saw it long again. ‘Working has a purpose and there’s always been much to do here.’

  ‘And appearances are not useful?’

  She knew she wasn’t beautiful and hadn’t cared before. For some reason, she cared now. ‘Nae, they are like your games and play. Useless. They doona feed families.’

  ‘Ah, but your hunting is a game you play. You enjoy it, like I do my games.’

  Play. She hadn’t done so since her mother’s death. She didn’t want to think of her mother’s death. ‘This is a foolish conversation.’

  ‘And you are stubborn. You have more to tell me and are avoiding the conversation.’

  ‘There is nae conversation. We have more of these to skin and hang in the tree before we get to the deer,’ she said. The deer they’d dragged until it rested at an incline away from where they stood. Later, they’d hook the tendons behind its hooves to hang it from a tree.

  For now the rabbits kept them busy. But she could feel Bram waiting. It made her hands unsteady. Already she had difficulty skinning the little beasts.

  ‘Lioslath.’

  Relentless. Relentless since the day he crested the hill and she needed to turn his thoughts elsewhere. ‘We have work to do. Why can’t we just work?’ She glanced over at him, but he appeared engrossed in his task. She knew he was pretending.

  ‘It doesn’t make sense! Why talk of my hair, when we’re doing this? Why bring this up now? When there’s—’

  ‘Your head’s bent at your work. I can see... Lioslath, you have moles behind your ear.’

  Her spots. He noticed her spots. Kept noticing them. She thought he might be relentless when it came to those as well.

  She turned back to the rabbit while Bram became quiet. Too quiet. Her hands fumbled at her task until she gave up and threw the rabbit to the ground and washed her hands and knife with the skeins of water. ‘I doona want to talk of my hair.’

  But she knew the mistake the moment she repeated it. By protesting again after Bram’s silence, she revealed her feelings about cutting it.

  It had to be last night and today with their hunting together. Her noticing how he looked amongst her trees, as if he belonged. She never revealed her feelings. What would he do with them?

  What had he done with them so far? Wary, she watched as he finished his rabbit and picked up hers to finish as well.

  Idleness. She became idle and this Colquhoun was doing the work. It only increased her agitation. So she stood, paced, but it didn’t ease her. Bram was waiting for an answer as if he knew it was coming, and she was beginning to believe he was right.

  ‘It happened so fast,’ she whispered past the tightening in her throat. The words not a relief, but a slice across a non-healing wound. ‘I think I cut myself more than the hair.’

  She thought her explanation would be enough, but then she saw Bram wince. Was he thinking of her cutting herself? The blood hardly mattered. She’d been in agony over her hair.

  He finished the rabbit and stood. ‘It hurt you in other ways,’ he said, arranging the rabbits on a log.

  He wasn’t looking at her and yet he knew. How could he know her so soon? Was it as simple as watching her for all those weeks as she had him? Maybe he wanted to understand her the same way she wanted to with him. Could she tell him?

  He brought her to the forest to hunt and they were married. They were supposed to talk of feelings and their future together. Since their marriage, it seemed as if Bram was willing to let go of the past. Of how she treated him. Of their heated words. Shouldn’t she, if she could, do the same? But she’d never had someone to talk to before. ‘I’m not used to talking.’

  ‘I know,’ he answered, as he grabbed the skeins to wash his hands. ‘I’ve seen it. Just...can you forgive me if I forget?’

  ‘Forgive you because I doona talk?’

  ‘Forgive me because I ask questions of you. It’s... I forget. It wasn’t supposed to be like this between us.’ He shook his head and smiled at her. ‘My questions are improper given our agreement. I have nae right to know and you needn’t tell me.’

  Lioslath waited for him to continue, but he didn’t and that wasn’t what she expected. Bram would never simply capitulate.

  He asked about her hair and then stopped himself. He did want to know. Was he being patient or kind? Was this sharing part of his telling of his family and his grief over Irvette? He’d said it wasn’t supposed to be like this between them. Maybe something about what she was feeling towards him had taken him by surprise, too.

  ‘My mother had long hair,’ she said. ‘It was glorious. Not this colour. I got that from my father, but the way it waved down to her waist. Mine...was the same as hers.’

  The only indication that she surprised him was his sudden stillness. Then he asked, ‘What was she like?’

  ‘She was good and kind. Loving.’ She continued her pacing, realised her legs felt as her hands did, that they were shaking as if they couldn’t stay within her skin. ‘The clan loved her, as did my father. She was determined and liked her own way, but always gentle and soft-spoken. The keep was a home with her in it.’

  It was all she could say as the words choked in her throat and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She looked around for something to keep her busy, but there was only the deer left and that would require his help. She felt weak, vulnerable. Even with his kindness, she wasn’t ready to reveal her weakness.

  Bram wouldn’t push for more, but he wouldn’t turn his head and allow Lioslath to gather her emotions. He could barely contain his own. So much pain in her life, but how could she not know the truth? He had to tell her.

  ‘I have nae doubt your hair was glorious,’ he said. ‘And I can imagine it rivalling any night sky. Yet...I like it now.’

  ‘As short as a man’s?’ she said. ‘It’s shorter than yours. The curl is almost gone. It’s why I cut it again. I doona trust if it’ll be the same as hers any more.’

  Difficult, stubborn, and she deserved more than his first feeble word
s. The question was whether he could give her more. He held her last night, but hadn’t found the pleasure she had. Even if he did, he would feel the same. Tightly coiled, protective and longing with the need to kiss her.

  ‘I find your hair beautiful, Lioslath,’ he said.

  She turned to argue, but stopped when he held up his hand. He needed to say the words and she needed to listen to them. Though he was barely containing his desire for her, he stepped closer.

  ‘I find it beautiful because it means I can see how expansive your eyes are. Like the sky.’

  Her eyes widened at his words. Oh, that pleased him. Too much. He had a duty to his family. He had a duty and a promise to her that they would not consummate this marriage. He could not desire her this much.

  ‘Your hair would fall and conceal too much of your eyes, or the crease you get between your brows when you’re cross with me. I love every expression you reveal and wouldn’t wish anything to cover them,’ he continued.

  Her eyes widened more until he felt he was drowning in the sky she showed him. ‘I love your hair because I can see the curve and line of your neck, like a path to those spots behind your ear. Those spots have prompted questions I have nae right to ask, but want to taste all the same.’

  ‘Taste?’

  His desire for her only increased with every moment, and now...with one word, he was vanquished. ‘Aye, and I need to add to our marriage agreement again.’

  Lioslath spun with Bram’s words. They were flattery, aye, but he meant them. There was no teasing light in his eyes or coaxing words. In truth, he looked tortured as he said them and now he looked resigned. Should a man talking of his wife’s appearance look resigned?

  ‘I doona ken this bargaining you do,’ she said.

  ‘How could you not?’ Another step. ‘We have a marriage agreement, like your father’s. I mean to keep it. Yet the talking and hunting was not a distraction. In fact, it may have made it worse. But I hold hope, since you changed our agreement terms first. So I’m countering. I want my lips, my mouth, my kisses added to this marriage.’

  She felt too...open for this conversation. After the hunt and their unexpected accord with each other. Revealing the truth of her hair and the loss of her mother had been too much. This was...overwhelming.

  ‘Is this a game you’re playing?’

  A small smile. ‘Does it feel like a game we play?’

  ‘Nae,’ she said. How was she to know of games, or bargaining, or any of this? She agreed to this marriage as a sacrifice. But thus far, they only shared pleasure and now he talked of kisses. Oh, she wanted those kisses.

  ‘You’re right, this is not a game, but there is something...’ Bram swiftly looked down, away, his frown deepening, as he pursed his lips before he looked to her. ‘Lioslath, will you let me add my kiss to our marriage?’

  He jested. Kisses were already part of marriage. Maybe Bram was simply fond of bargaining.

  ‘Nae,’ she whispered, although what and why she was denying she didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t want any more of Bram’s bargaining and talking.

  Because if that alertness was in him, it was doubly so in her. He might be enveloping her with his words of kisses and his voice holding the promise of them, but she was clenching them tightly to her until the air she breathed disappeared.

  ‘Nae? Yet you’ve added my hands and this is only a bit more.’ He tilted his head. ‘Was it too much last night, with my hands? Our hands.’

  She didn’t know she was walking backwards until her back met a great oak. But Bram did and he put his hands against the massive trunk to cage her there. Her eyes absorbed every one of his features. The way the trees’ canopy deepened the grey of his eyes and the shadows of his eyelashes. There was a hint of colour around the sharp slants of his cheekbones as if he exerted himself, though he stood very still.

  ‘I’m being...practical. The forest is impractical.’ It was. She wanted more than his kisses and that couldn’t happen here.

  It was the way his lips moved when he whispered, ‘Impractical?’

  ‘The ground is wet, Bram.’

  Bram’s eyes slid to her lips; his words a hoarse whisper. ‘Ah, you can’t know what you do with your words.’

  It was the way his very breath and voice caressed her. She wanted more. When had her anger at him turned to this? It seemed everything that had begun between them led to this. As if Bram’s relentless siege and endless demands led her here: her back against a tree with nowhere to go except where he wanted to take her. And where she wanted to go.

  ‘What do I do with my words?’ she asked.

  His lips hovered along her temple and down her cheek. ‘Make a man imagine things. Things that would make him want you more.’

  ‘My words have never had such a response before.’

  A soft chuckle near her jawline made her body shiver and her skin tighten. ‘Ah, see, even that answer tempts a man.’

  She might not know where he wanted to take her, but she had gone somewhere when his hand entwined with hers, and she knew there was more. Like kisses. And yet he talked.

  ‘Tempts you?’ she said.

  ‘Aye, and right now I’d kill any other man who was tempted by you.’

  His hands skimmed across her shoulders, down her arms and along the backs of her hands at her sides. They continued their whispering caress as they retraced their path back up. Each soft, repeating stroke embedding the heat and want and intent deeper in her.

  When his roughened fingertips glided over her bare neck, a sound escaped her lips.

  ‘Why do you do this?’ she said. Why was he still talking and bartering when she wanted more of his touch, more of him. If he felt the need to do it, she needed to understand. Then she would kiss him.

  ‘I’m feeling the softness of your skin and craving more.’ Lowering his head, he gave more almost-kisses. His lips, ephemeral yet penetrating, hovered along her neck, across her collarbone and up to the other side. ‘Add my kisses, Lioslath. You can’t know what you do to me with your denying.’

  His words continued. A litany. She felt every one. ‘Do you feel like I do when I hear your voice?’

  A pause. ‘My voice?’

  ‘Aye, it seeps and unfurls inside me.’

  ‘My voice does this?’ he asked, but his voice held a different note now.

  ‘Aye.’

  She felt his half-smile against her. ‘Ah, lass, I do feel like that, but the fact you do and you’re giving words to it?’

  ‘Words to it.’

  ‘Those kinds of words give satisfaction to a man. Words I could use, love. Words I intend to use.’ The barest skimming of his lips. ‘Add my kisses.’

  Talking, bartering and negotiating. Still. His touches remained light, though she felt the feral heat of him pressing against her. The air between them felt like a cruel caress, too soft to ease. And her own body ached for something stronger, solid. Him.

  Shuddering, he pulled away. Grey eyes besieged by need, breaths stuttering through starved lungs. His light touch now digging, releasing. Kneading.

  She watched as his eyes darkened even more. Felt as if her own must be darkening, as if her vision was blurring, until all she could see was the continued asking locked inside Bram’s eyes.

  ‘Stop talking,’ she said. She still didn’t understand, but she’d had enough of his bartering. They were married and she wanted his kiss.

  ‘Lioslath, please, the agreement.’

  Frustration and desire roiled and collided inside her. ‘Aye, Bram, I accept. Please, your voice, your hands...your kisses.’

  Hands suddenly cupped her face, fingers tunnelled through her short hair, his heavy body pressed her to the tree. The ache inflamed and pierced until she parted her lips to let in more air, to release a cry, and his lips, finally, met hers.r />
  It was a kiss too long denied. Too overwhelming and yet not enough. She protested it being not enough. He answered her sounds with his own.

  But his kiss only continued to coax as his fingers released her hair, as his palms slid to the nape of her neck. Her breaths stuttered when he grazed his teeth along her lower lip, when he enclosed her upper lip between his own and gently sucked.

  Her own needs demanded the feel of his hair still tied, and the heat and slickness of sweat on his neck despite the coolness of the morning.

  She pulled until he pressed even more against her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted harder kisses, hungry kisses. They were in the forest and she wanted more of everything.

  ‘Lioslath?’ he said, her name a rough sound. His lips hovered over hers. Close, but not nearly close enough. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  ‘Do you ache, lass? I can give you more kisses,’ he whispered. ‘Just more kisses, just more touches. Let me show you.’

  She wanted nothing else.

  Tilting his head, he kissed the mole above her lips. Then along her jaw and down the lines of her neck.

  She arched her neck to give him more access and he released an approving sound. With both hands, he skimmed the backs of hers and up her arms. There, his fingertips traced patterns along her collarbone as he lingered more kisses along her neck and jaw. He repeated a pattern her body understood even when she couldn’t.

  Then his fingertips lowered, his palms cupped against her thin tunic so she felt her breasts swell to reach his palms and her nipples hardened before his thumbs flickered and pressed over them. All along, his mouth increased the pressure of his kisses.

  Oh, his kisses. She knew the compulsion for more. Her own body was giving in to it. She was no longer leaning against the tree, but towards Bram and his kisses and his hands. Her own hands finding balance and heat and need as they gripped his sides.

  There was no warning when Bram suddenly sank to his knees before her and her hands found his shoulders for support.

  Want and need swirled in the grey depths, but also...amusement.