Ian's Bride: A Highland Romp

by Hildie McQueen

  The idea of him bathing made Sorcha look away and focus on her tea. “Would ye like some tea?”

  “Nay.”

  Whatever it was that brought him to her chamber, it was interesting to note that he’d left the door cracked so as to not bring any gossip. Waiting for him to speak, she brought the cup to her lips.

  “We’ve only argued, never had a conversation really.” His tone was with without inflection. “What do ye want to know about me?”

  He was cruel, elegant and arrogant. Ian Murray had many a lass who claimed he’d lain with them. So she added a rogue to the list.

  “Will ye allow me to travel back and forth to the village as I please?” Sorcha braced herself for his reply.

  The blue gaze moved from her face to the hearth. “Within reason, aye.”

  “What do ye consider within reason?”

  Once again, his gaze flickered to her face and back to the hearth. “As long as yer duties here are not neglected.”

  “Can I sell at the market with my mother?”

  “Nay.”

  She clenched her jaw. “What about stand there for a couple hours in the afternoons.”

  This time, his eyes locked with hers. “‘Tis the same thing. Nay.”

  Huffing, she took a moment to ensure she didn’t lose her temper. “What will my duties be here? Ye have servants to fulfill every need.”

  “Ye will have to ask Aunt Flora. Seems to me, she and Declan’s wife, Cairstine, stay very busy.”

  Giving up on the topic, Sorcha decided to discuss other things. “Where are yer parents?”

  “Dead.” He lifted an eyebrow as if in challenge. “I have no siblings nor have I fathered any bairns. That in itself is a topic we will discuss at another time.”

  Sorcha could tell he would not elaborate further. “Do ye want to marry me?”

  His regard of her turned hard. Sorcha wished the words back by the intensity of his scrutiny. It was as if he fought internally for a reply.

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Did ye ask Laird Murray to give me to ye as wife?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Do ye wish to marry me?”

  He’d not responded. For whatever reason he’d requested to be considered, Ian did not wish to divulge it to her. Of course, he wanted her bloodline. An arrogant man would covet to have children with The Bruce as an ancestor.

  “Nay, I do not wish to marry anyone.” Much less ye. She didn’t say the second part as it would not do to have additional animosity between them.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t find Ian Murray tremendously attractive. As a matter of fact, that she found him much too appealing was bothersome. It was his character she did not care for in the least.

  He cleared his throat. “‘Tis understandable. We will be married nonetheless and, upon the morrow, be tied to one another for the rest of our lives.” He yawned and stretched as if utterly bored with the conversation. “Any other questions?”

  “Will these be my chambers? My parents bring my belongings tomorrow. I need to know where to have them placed.”

  “Nay, ye will move into mine.”

  Her eyes widened. She was under the impression the Murrays kept separate bedrooms when married. “With ye?”

  “Aye.” There was a hint of challenge by the lifting of both brows. “From tomorrow forward.”

  “What of ye? What do ye wish to know about me?”

  Ian bowed his head. It gave her the opportunity to study how well built he was. The fabric of his tunic stretched tight across his broad shoulders and upper arms. He had muscular thighs from riding and his arms were well-built from sword fighting. The dark blond locks were just to his shoulders and he had a short beard and mustache a shade darker than his hair.

  “Do ye wish to have many bairns?”

  The question shocked Sorcha. She hadn’t considered the intimacy that would come that night. At the thought, she sputtered and the tea she’d just sipped caused her to cough repeatedly.

  “I...I suppose the thought of many bairns does not appeal to me. To be truthful, I had not thought much past who I’d marry and such. One...two perhaps.”

  At her reply he nodded, but said nothing.

  Interesting.

  “What about ye?” Sorcha held her breath. The more bairns he wanted the more they’d have to join. She had knowledge of what transpired between a man and a woman. From what she’d accidentally witnessed upon her brother’s most inopportune conquests she’d walked in on, it was less than appealing.

  Admittedly, the women seemed to be enjoying what looked to be a most disgraceful interaction.

  He studied her with interest. It was as if he gauged what to say next depending on her expressions. “The same.”

  “What about the woman. The one who made the scene when our betrothal was announced?”

  With a one-shouldered shrug, he dismissed the question as if it were not important. Sorcha narrowed her eyes and was amused when he swallowed visibly. “She will be sent away to be married.”

  Of course a woman would pay for a dalliance that included two people. “Seems unfair.”

  “Aye, it is. However, she was due to be sent away as it was discovered she allows too many men into her bed.”

  Sorcha gasped at the thought. The woman had seemed genuinely upset over Ian marrying.

  Ian stood and Sorcha did the same and reached for his forearm. “I must thank ye for what ye did in yer uncle’s study. I was most shocked at the news.”

  He nodded and walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER 7

  The sun warmed his back as Ian walked his horse to the gates of the keep. He’d planned to visit the elderly couple days earlier. However, with the new developments, time had passed.

  He threw bags over the back of the horse. They held foodstuffs and a new blanket. It would be several hours before he reached the small farm, so he turned back to the courtyard to retrieve a skin of water.

  Mounted, he looked over his shoulder and frowned. Upon his return that eve he’d seek his bed early, for the entire keep would be filled with wedding preparations, which he preferred not to be a part of.

  The long ride would give him time to consider what to do about ensuring Sorcha’s bloodline continued. Every inch of him rebelled against the ideas that formed. But he could not think of another way, except to have one of his cousins secretly bed her.

  Niven came upon Ian and his horse. His face scrunched against the bright sunlight. “‘Tis a strange idea of yers to always visit these people. Ye can send someone to deliver the items.”

  “I told ye. My mother cared for them a great deal. The woman served her and, as such, has been a part of my life from when I was a babe.”

  His cousin did not seem impressed. Niven was young, brash, and impulsive. He was the perfect candidate for what Ian had in mind.

  They arrived, spent a couple hours helping around the elderly couple’s home and then finally headed back toward the keep.

  Ian finally broached the subject with Niven, who immediately pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.

  Ian followed suit, his stomach in knots at what he’d said. No man should have to do what he proposed. That he would not only have to deceive his wife, but also that he’d allow another man to bed her was unfathomable.

  Apparently Niven agreed. “I will not do it. Ye should speak to the lass. Explain what happened to ye.”

  “The bloodline must continue. She is...”

  Niven glared at him. “I know very well who she is and all about the bloodline. There are plenty of other descendants of The Bruce. They can continue the bloody thing.”

  Although the statement was true, there was the issue of Sorcha never bearing a child. Would her heart be broken? Would she grow to resent him for taking away her opportunity to be a mother?

  “Think about it. ‘Tis all I ask.”

  “I don’t have to.” Niven stalked closer and pointed a finger at him. “Ye must thi
nk more on it. Ye’re acting in haste. ‘Tis early yet. Have ye considered that it may be possible for ye to sire?”

  He thought back to the day of his injury. Amidst battle, as he had turned to his left, hitting his opponent with the hilt of his sword, the man had sliced upward. The sword had sliced his upper thigh and between his legs. He’d lost half the underside of his sex. Not only that, the searing to stop the bleeding had caused even more damage. That he could still become hard and perform was a miracle.

  Thankfully, the sword had spared his rod. Otherwise, he would have never volunteered to marry Sorcha.

  “Nay, I can never.”

  It was late in the day when they returned to the keep. There was much activity. Tents had been set up in the courtyard for visitors along with long tables. People hurried to and fro setting up shelters for horses and ensuring empty rooms were prepared as well.

  Ian kept his gaze flat and, despite the tightness in his chest, he managed to lead his horse to the stables without looking anyone in the eye.

  Already, even before the vows were spoken, he’d betrayed his wife. The ceremony, the words would mean nothing as he planned to deceive her in the worst way. Yes, Niven had not agreed, not yet. But he would eventually, as Ian would continue to insist.

  No matter how much time passed before his cousin would lay with Sorcha, the betrayal had begun. Any joy that could possibly come would always be shadowed by this knowledge.

  “Ah, Ian, I see ye have returned from yer visit.” The stable master, Fergus, greeted him with exuberance. “‘Tis certainly a busy day for ye.”

  “Aye it is, Fergus,” Ian replied. “I will take care of my steed. With all the visitors, ye have yer hands full.”

  Fergus glowered at him. “I remind ye ‘tis my duty to see about the Murray horses before all else.”

  “True.” Ian smiled at the older man’s annoyance. Giving a man leave to do his purpose was the greatest respect. The words had been ingrained in him by his father.

  “I will give ye leave then, but expect to see ye at the evening meal. Sit close to me, as I may need ye to prod me in the right direction when I threaten to lose my food to nerves.”

  The older man chuckled. “Bah, ye’re one of the bravest men I know.” He scratched his beard. “However, a wee lass can be the most formidable challenge. I give ye that.”

  His mood lightened, Ian strolled back into the courtyard. Near the front gate, Sorcha stood speaking to a man he did not recognize. The bearded man seemed quite familiar with her by the nearness in which he stood. They spoke with animation and hugged once and then again. Sorcha reached up and cupped the man’s jaw and he covered her hand with his.

  Unable to stop himself, Ian moved closer ensuring to keep out of their direct line of sight. Admittedly, they did not look at all contrite that she was to marry another. If anything, both looked to be quite happy in that moment.

  It could be that, perhaps, they’d not seen one another in some time and the realness of what was about to transpire had not sunk in yet.

  When the man, once again, reached for Sorcha and pulled her against his side, Ian could take no more. It was one thing to greet someone, but another altogether to show so much affection for a male on her own wedding day.

  He stalked with purpose until blocking their path. “What is this? That ye will act in such a wanton way on the day of our marriage. Do ye have no morals?”

  Sorcha’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “I--I...”

  The next thing Ian knew, he was on his back on the ground. The male stood over him, sword drawn and across his throat. “How dare ye speak to her in such a manner?”

  “No, Camden, don’t hurt him. It will be horrible for ye and our family.” Sorcha attempted to tug at the man’s arm, but did not budge him one inch.

  The heavy boot on his chest and sword at his throat made it impossible for Ian to move. Although he rested his right hand on the hilt of his own weapon, there would be no time to unsheathe it and strike.

  Tears streamed down Sorcha’s face as she pleaded, once again, for the male to release him. “Please, let him go. ‘Tis a misunderstanding.”

  The man leaned forward and the weight upon Ian’s chest was unbearable. His reddened, bearded face was twisted in fury. “Ye will not marry my sister. She deserves better than the likes of someone who would publically offend her.”

  The brother. The one who’d been at the outpost? He’d been one of the first to volunteer to guard against the Norse. Now that he got a regrettable closer look, Ian recognized the man.

  Ian attempted to talk, but could not catch enough of a breath. The brother lifted his foot and sword from Ian and he rolled to the side gasping for breath. With practiced precision, in the next moment, he jumped to his feet, but did not draw his sword.

  Camden Macduff was as tall as Ian but broader of size. The man was a practiced warrior who’d been present at the battle where Ian had been injured.

  “I did not recognize ye,” Ian started. Sorcha had moved to stand just behind her brother. At her seeking shelter from another man brought his blood to boil. His wife-to-be should be standing behind him, not another man, whether brother or not.

  “Sorcha, I apologize.” He met her reddened eyes.

  Although people watched from a distance thanks to the guards who’d blocked most of what happened, Ian could sense their disapproval of his actions.

  The day just got worse it seemed. Now, with a ceremony to look forward to, he wondered how many would remember the wedding as the day Ian Murray insulted the young woman who was the descendant of their beloved king.

  CHAPTER 8

  The wedding ceremony was done and the vows had been said. Sorcha and Ian now sat at the high board as the clan celebrated. Although Camden sent Ian warning glances from time to time, it was not the most awkward of times.

  Unlike the rest of the people, the clergyman was less than impressed by her pedigree and, instead, voiced his displeasure before, during and after the marriage ceremony. It was obvious he was there only because ordered to by the laird. The presence of two guardsmen at his back made Sorcha wonder if one held a dagger to the man’s back.

  Once again, Ian was expressionless. His gaze was flat and his body sat rigid. One would think the man was facing a whipping and not being wed.

  At this point, the only person who seemed to enjoy the day besides the townspeople were her mother and Lady Murray. Both had wide grins and clapped in pleasure when she and Ian were pronounced married.

  Despite being annoyed, Sorcha enjoyed the lavish meal of boar meat, potatoes and freshly baked bread. The honeyed mead was delicious and she drank more than usual. Refusing to think of what that night would entail, she turned her attention to the musicians.

  Several women gathered and danced, turning in circles. Men joined in after a bit, while those who remained seated clapped.

  “Why are ye not dancing?” Ian asked. “I know ye love to dance.”

  Sorcha wasn’t sure how to reply. Truthfully, the desire to dance was not exactly on her mind at the moment.

  When their gazes met, she noted warmth, something that had not been present up until now. “I am too nervous to dance.”

  The corner of his lips lifted. “Ye shouldn’t be.”

  Easy for him to say, no doubt he had plenty of experience in bedding. Other than spying her brother, she’d not even been kissed before. Her first kiss had been earlier that day. The chaste peck on the lips by Ian at the conclusion of the wedding ceremony.

  Sorcha could not think of a reply. What to say at the moment? When his hand covered hers, heat traveled up her arm. The darkening of his eyes accompanied by his smile brought fire up her chest to her face. The man desired her. Although she was not experienced, it was obvious he looked forward to the bedding.

  “Come dance with me.” He pulled her to stand and guided her to the center of the room.

  A few moments of awkward silence were quickly followed by a lively tune. Soon, Sorcha forgot all
but the music as she danced in Ian’s arms. He circled with her along with the other dancers with a grace that astounded her.

  She was surprised that a man she’d only known for being most ill-tempered liked to dance and was quite good at it.

  “Tis time,” her mother who came to escort Sorcha to Ian’s chambers, said. Instantly the enjoyment of the evening turned to anxiousness.

  It was too soon.

  Her feet where weighted as she made her way up the stairs to a bedchamber. Once in the room, two maids, and Lady Murray joined her.

  A chemise replaced her dress and her hair loosened and brushed out. She wanted to tell everyone to leave, but she knew they’d pay her no heed. Finally, she was helped to lay atop the bed as if on display.

  Sorcha sat up and gave her mother a pointed look. “I prefer to sit.”

  Thankfully, her mother did not argue. After a reassuring look over her shoulder, her mother left with Lady Murray and the maids in tow.

  Stomach in knots, Sorcha sat on the bed in the candlelit bedroom and waited for her groom to arrive.

  There was rowdy laughter ,and the rumble of male voices became louder as the revelers escorted the groom to the bedchamber.

  Bawdy remarks where followed by what sounded like a struggle. The door bust open and a half-naked Ian was shoved in.

  His tunic half-torn and his legs bare, he stumbled forward and laughed when someone attempted to tug what was left of his clothing off.

  “Get away from here,” he called between guffaws. “Go on. I need privacy.”

  Several remarks Sorcha would have rather not heard later, the door closed and the revelers departed.

  Ian shook his head and peered down at his tunic. “I hope my tartan is in better shape.”

  “Is the door locked?” Sorcha clutched a thin blanket to her chest. “Will they come back?”

  Not bothering to look to the door, Ian shrugged. “Nay, they will not return.” Lids lowered, he looked from her eyes down to where she gripped the blanket. “I will see all of ye tonight, lass. Tonight, ye will belong to me and me only.”

  Ian neared sending her heart to thunder and her breath to hitch. What was he to do? Curiosity and fear tumbled in her stomach, a match neither would win.