Pointing to the oak, True moved to the trunk. “He’s supposed to be my guard.” She peered up into the tree where the trunk split. “The little traitor, he’s asleep.” She smiled. “About Hunter…”
Malcolm reached up and lifted him from his perch. “From this day forward, he is our son.”
Hunter’s eyes opened in confusion as Malcolm settled him against his chest. His eyes sought hers, and she told him the news. “Malcolm and I are husband and wife. He is your foster father.” She watched as Hunter’s expression turned to wonder. He leaned back to look into Malcolm’s face for a moment, put his small arms around his new father’s neck, his head on his shoulder, and smiled at her as if he knew all along this was how things would work out.
“We’ve a wedding feast to attend. Are you recovered enough for my men to return?”
“Malcolm, about your men—”
“They’ve been guarding your camp since the first day you lit a fire, True. The smoke gave you away.”
“Oh.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Why didn’t Liam say anything?”
Malcolm gave her the smile that always made her weak in the knees. “Aye, well…he likes a good coney stew.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
From her place in Elaine’s chamber, Alethia could hear the sounds of the pipes and bodhran from the great hall below. “Beth,” she said, glancing at the young woman over her shoulder. “You should be downstairs dancing.”
“Aye, Lady True. I will be ere long.” She smiled. “After I’ve seen ye ready for your wedding night.”
Color flooded her cheeks. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to expect, and it wasn’t prudishness that made her cheeks heat up. Everyone in the keep—no, make that everyone on the entire island—would know that she and Malcolm were consummating their vows tonight. The notion sent mortification burning straight through her.
Beth pulled the brush through her hair as Alethia sat by the hearth. Her meager belongings had already been moved to Malcolm’s room. She’d seen to it herself to ensure that no one fished around in her duffel. Bathed, petted and pampered before attending the hastily thrown together wedding feast, she’d not had a single moment by herself to think about all that had happened. Funny how drastically one’s life could change in a single day.
Even though their wedding celebration had been a last-minute affair, the atmosphere had been festive and joyous, and the clan took the news of their handfasting with happy acceptance. She’d been humbled by all the well-wishers. Gifts of linens, wool, candles and small tokens had begun to pile up in the great hall all afternoon.
The refugees from Meikle Geddes planned to return to their homes tomorrow, led by Robley. He vowed to remain there to see that the Comyns didn’t attempt another siege. Besides, someone needed to help repair the damage, and he claimed it should be him. But tonight everyone celebrated together, and for more than one reason.
Their enemies had been routed by Malcolm and a score of their clansmen, their land and holding restored with no more loss of life. The harvest this year had been plentiful, with enough to spare for luxuries traded for at the fair in Inverness. And now a wedding.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Lydia swept into the room with a grinning Elaine behind her. “Thank you, Beth. You may take your leave. Elaine and I will see to my good daughter’s needs.”
Beth placed the brush on the table, curtsied and left, giving Alethia a wink at the door.
All afternoon she’d taken comfort in the warmth of Lydia’s smiles and the welcome in her eyes as she celebrated her only son’s union. Lydia and Elaine had attended her during her bath and had given her the embroidered night rail and robe she wore.
“We’re truly sisters now.” Elaine sat at the foot of her bed with a satisfied grin.
She smiled back, pleased, but unsure what to say.
“How old were you when you lost your mother, my dear?”
“I lost both my parents when I was ten.”
“Then I shall act as your mother this night.” Lydia took the chair opposite and reached out to pat her knee as if she were still ten. “This is your wedding night, and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not tell you what to expect…what happens between a man and a woman—”
“Oh. I already know about the birds and the bees, Lydia.”
“The birds…and…” Lydia looked at her in confusion. “I dinna wish to speak of birds and bees, True. I came to speak about husbands and wives…and the marriage bed.”
Now her face felt as if it would burst into flames. She looked to Elaine for help, only to find her smiling wickedly back at her. “Oh.”
“Aye, ahem.” Lydia smoothed the skirt of her gown, her own face rosy now. “You see, a man has certain needs,” she began.
“What about women?” Elaine interrupted. “Do we no’ have needs as well?”
“Um, aye, but we dinna speak of it,” Lydia stammered.
“Lydia—” Alethia was desperate to get out of this awkward conversation.
“Men and women have certain needs,” Lydia blurted. She held her hand up as if warding off further interruption. “If you are fortunate enough to have married a generous man, the marriage bed can be a blissful experience. And I certainly hope I have raised my son to be a generous man.” Lydia fanned her face with one hand. “His father certainly is. I did my best to teach my son to care for others, to consider their feelings as well as his own. It is my hope that…that…”
“Lydia, I am sure everything will be fine,” Alethia whispered.
“Well, most mothers would tell their daughters to lie still and simply endure what is to come. Those mothers do their daughters a grave disservice. Passion between a husband and wife can be a wonderful thing. ’Tis no secret you and Malcolm care deeply for one another.” She reached for Alethia’s hands. “I could no’ be more pleased for Malcolm, my dear. You make him happy, and in the end, ’tis all we can hope for our children. Welcome to our family, Alethia.”
Lydia rose and kissed her on both cheeks. Her eyes stung as she squeezed Lydia’s hands. “Thank you. I am honored.”
“Come, ’tis time to take you to your husband.” Elaine left her perch and walked to the door. “Dinna worry about Hunter. I’ll look after him. Tomorrow he can return to your old room; ’tis his chamber now.”
Alethia nodded and let them lead her down the long hall. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It’s not as if she’d never been alone with Malcolm before. They’d come close, so close that day by the spring. Even so, this felt different. So different. Before God and his clan they’d promised their lives to one another. Her heart raced with anticipation and something else much more profound. She loved him. She would always love him.
They stopped in front of the heavy oak door to Malcolm’s chamber. Lydia and Elaine both gave her a fierce hug. Lydia opened the door and gently shoved her over the threshold, shutting the door behind her.
A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a soft, warm light to silhouette Malcolm where he stood. He wore a robe of midnight blue velvet. His hair shone golden about his shoulders. Backlit by the fire, it made him look like he had a halo. She smiled at the memories of their first meeting. My love.
“Alethia.”
She sensed his nervousness and knew his heart raced with the same anticipation as hers. “Malcolm.” She smiled from her place near the door, her hands clasped in front of her. Seconds went by, and still she stood, as if her feet had taken root in the wooden planks beneath them.
A loud, raucous cheer rose up from the great hall below. Lydia and Elaine must have announced she’d been delivered into her husband’s keeping for the night. Her heart hammered against her ribs, embarrassed to the core. Everyone she’d come to know so well, even those she didn’t, knew exactly what would transpire here tonight. She tried to speak but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Come warm yourself by the fire, lass.” Malcolm grinned. “You look like one of your coneys—t
empted by the bait, wary of the trap.”
“I do not.” She grinned back, the tension broken for the moment. She walked to the chair opposite his, concentrating hard so as not to trip over the long hem of the lovely silk night rail.
“May I pour you a glass of wine?”
“That would be nice.” Gathering the billowing yards of cloth, she settled herself on the chair opposite his while he poured them each a goblet of wine.
“Mmph. I would have you nearer, mo céile.” Malcolm placed the goblets on the hearth, slid her chair closer and took his seat. “You’ve no need to be nervous. I’m the same man I was before we wed. Nothing has changed.”
She accepted the wine he handed her and took a sip. “Everything has changed.”
“Aye, for the better.” He took the goblet he’d just placed in her hands and set it back on the hearth. “Come here to me, wife. I willna bite.” He drew her from her chair and settled her on his lap, putting his feet up on her vacated spot. “Be at ease, mo cridhe.”
“You’re as nervous as I am, Malcolm.” She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Curly russet chest hair peeked out of his robe. She ran her fingers through it and splayed her hand over his chest. His heart raced beneath her fingertips. “Can you tell me our vows once more, so I can commit them to memory?”
Malcolm lifted her hand from his chest and kissed the tips of her fingers one at a time. She sighed with pleasure.
“I, Malcolm William, son of William of clan MacKintosh, pledge my troth to thee, Alethia Grace Goodsky—”
“Of clan Crane,” she whispered.
“Aye, well, I neglected to say that this morn. ’Twill be said when we take our vows again this spring.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “With my hands, I shall provide for thee. With my body, I pledge to protect thee. With my heart, I shall cherish thee, and only thee, all the days of my life. As God is my witness and before my clan, from this day forward, we are husband and wife.”
He bent his head and kissed her. She loved the way he kissed, full, strong kisses with his whole being behind it. She put her arms around his neck and opened her mouth, inviting him in. His groan sent ripples of pleasure down her center, causing an answering dampness and throbbing sensation between her thighs.
“Wait.” She straightened in his lap. “What about my vows? What did I say?” Malcolm’s eyes had turned from sky to midnight blue with desire.
“I, Alethia Grace Goodsky…of clan Crane…pledge my troth to thee, Malcolm of clan MacKintosh. With my hands, I shall provide for thee. With my body, I shall succor thee. With my heart, I shall cherish thee, and only thee, all the days of my life,” Malcolm recited.
He waited for her to repeat the words. She repeated each line, until she got to the part where with her body she offered succor. “With my body, I pledge to protect you as well as the succoring part.” She raised her chin, firm in her resolve.
“Nay. ’Tis a man’s duty to protect his family and a woman’s duty to see to her husband’s needs and provide him with the comforts of hearth and home.”
“I can do that and protect you.”
“Mayhap you can. ’Tis my hope the need will no’ arise. Now say the rest.”
“With my heart, I shall cherish thee—”
“And only me.”
She giggled. “And only thee, all the days of my life. As God is my witness, and before our clan, from this day forward, we are wife and husband.”
“Husband and wife.”
“That’s what I said.” She glanced at him through her lashes and smiled as she went back to playing with his chest hair.
“I want you, Alethia. From the very first day I found you by the side of the road, I have thought of little else. You turn me inside out with worry and want.”
“Worry?” She put her hands on either side of his face and placed a kiss on his furrowed brow. “Why worry, Malcolm?”
“I worry about your safety, our future. Dinna think for one moment I enjoy going off to do battle, for I dinna. I crave peace and wish only to raise our crops and kine so that none of my people go hungry. I want to raise my bairns—”
“Our bairns.” She held one of his hands with both of hers.
He gave her a heart-stopping grin. “Aye, our bairns. Let us speak no more of worry. I’ve a deflowering to attend to.”
“Malcolm,” she gasped. “I cannot believe you said that.”
He lifted her in his arms and moved to the bed, where he laid her down upon the furs and covered her body with his. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gazed down at her. “Unless you dinna wish…”
“Oh, I wish.” She drew him down for a kiss, savoring the feeling of being enveloped by his large body. He rolled onto his unwounded side and held her close, ravishing the inside of her mouth while tugging and pulling at the fabric covering her body.
“Woman, where are you in all of this silk?” He managed to get her robe off, before getting tangled up in the gown.
She laughed, joy spilling out of her heart and into her voice. “Here, let me.” She untangled herself and climbed down from the bed. Untying the ribbon holding the gown closed in the front, she let it slide slowly down her body, watching Malcolm’s reaction as the heat of another blush rose to her cheeks. His quick intake of breath and the look of awe on his face pleased her and made her bold. “Now you.”
She smiled as he leaped from the bed to comply. Standing before her, he untied the velvet robe and let it fall to the floor with a whoosh. Proudly he stood before her, his broad chest, taut muscled torso, and jutting manhood standing at attention. Impressive.
“Oh, Malcolm. You’re so…”
“Virile?” He grinned.
“So…”
“Well formed? Comely?”
“You are all of those things.” She reached out to touch his chest with one hand. “But none are what I was going to say.” She bit her lower lip.
“What then?” His brow furrowed with uncertainty.
“You’re so hairy,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in the hair on his chest. “I love it.” She sighed. Malcolm threw his head back and laughed as he brought her back into his embrace, and she could easily sense the joy spilling from his heart into his voice as well.
“Aye, well, remember you said that when it tickles you in the middle of the night. Sweet wife, give your husband a kiss.”
Skin to warm skin, Alethia lifted her face. His tongue tasted every inch of the inside of her mouth and tangled with hers. A flood of love, desire and tenderness swept through her entire body. Pressing herself as close to him as she possibly could, Alethia tangled her fingers in his golden hair and let the pent up need for his touch overtake her senses in a heady rush. “Malcolm…”
Somehow he managed to maneuver them back onto the bed, his body covering hers. Alethia loved the feeling it gave her. In his arms she felt cherished, protected. Malcolm’s hands, though large, scarred and callused, moved over her skin with exquisite tenderness. She ached for more.
He trailed kisses and licks down her neck to her shoulder. “I want to taste every delectable part of you.” His mouth moved to her collarbone, while his thumbs stroked soft circles around her sensitive nipples, sending bolts of electricity down through the center of her body and taking her breath away.
Bending toward her, his mouth took over for his thumbs, his tongue circling around one nipple, then the other, while one hand sought the sensitive flesh between her thighs. Alethia nearly came up off the bed.
Malcolm stopped and turned himself onto his side. Her breathing came fast and heavy. Propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze moved slowly down her body from the top of her head down to her toes.
“Why did you stop? Malcolm, does your wound hurt? We can—”
“’Tis not my arm that pains me, lass.” The desire in his eyes increased the throbbing sensation between her legs. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his groin and placed it on his erection. “Here is where I ache for you,
mo cridhe. I want this to be good for you. I…I need to slow down, or I’ll lose control.” He took a deep breath.
She wrapped her hand around him, reveling in the heat, the hardness and the velvet-soft skin. Rubbing her thumb over the tip, she stroked him to the base, then lower. He groaned, and his body tightened beside her. His hand returned to the place where she longed for his touch. “Please, Malcolm. I can’t wait any longer.” She opened her thighs wider. Desperate, her hips rose with every sweet stroke of his fingers against her aroused flesh.
His throaty chuckle in her ear almost sent her over the edge. “Soon,” he whispered. Kissing and licking a trail from the tip of one erect nipple, down the center of her torso, past her navel, Malcolm opened her wider and looked his fill before lowering his head. The first touch of his tongue against the swollen bud of her sex sent her reeling. It took no time at all before she exploded in spasms of pleasure, crying Malcolm’s name as she lost all thought.
Kissing a trail back up to her mouth, Malcolm settled himself between her thighs. Poised to enter, he held her face between his two large hands. “I dinna wish to hurt you, Alethia.” The head of his member pushed against her opening, only to withdraw with the next breath.
“It’s OK. I know what to expect, please…” He entered her, filling her another inch deeper. Her hips rose in an effort to bring him further in, frustrated when he once again withdrew. “Malcolm,” she groaned. Again he pushed, this time coming all the way to the thin barrier of skin blocking his way. He rocked back and forth slightly, groaning against her neck. She couldn’t take any more and brought his face to hers, kissing him with all the hunger in her body. “Now,” she commanded.
Malcolm withdrew once more, making her want to scream, returning with a single powerful thrust. The tearing sensation stung, but only for a moment. She shifted beneath him, urging him to move within her, frustrated when he remained still.
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 20