The Reluctant Bride

by Temple Hogan

  She was suddenly aware that the laughter and talk had died away and MacPherson men stared at her with hard resentment and no small amount of surprise. Once again, she’d crossed a line few women dared cross. She guessed if she’d been a man, they would have challenged her.

  Cailla saw their dismay and recognized she’d destroyed the festive mood with her outcry. Shamed and unable to think of any way to extricate herself from so awkward a situation, she turned her back to the room and stared into the hot flames while a hated tear spilled down her cheek. Hastily she wiped it away, coughing as if the smoke from the fire had caused her distress.

  Maggie, her face a mask of outrage, stamped across the room and, taking hold of one shoulder, jerked Cailla around to deliver a stinging slap.

  Cailla sensed the ripple of shock that went round the room, but anger flared through her. How dare this bold wanton strike her? All remorse was gone. Quickly, she drew back a hand and delivered her own blow. Maggie’s head snapped round with the impact and her cheek carried the imprint of Cailla’s hand. Eyes flashing she prepared to strike again, but Logan stayed the blow with his arm.

  “Nay, Maggie. M’lady is but tired and I bedeviled her. The journey was long and arduous, and before that, she fought a battle to defend her castle. We are none of us responsible for what we say and do this night.”

  MacPherson men nodded in agreement and resumed their conversations, obviously grateful the minor crisis was diverted. Cailla knew they’d grown some feelings for her as Gowain MacLaren’s feisty daughter. Besides, hadn’t they observed Logan and her quarreling often enough during the past few days?

  Maggie continued to glare at Cailla with brows drawn low over eyes dark with fury, her stance as stiff and unyielding as a bandy rooster spoiling for a fight. That the highland woman bore her some animosity was apparent. Cailla raised her chin in an unspoken challenge, her dislike of the rough, bold woman equally apparent to those present.

  “Maggie!” Logan said warningly and the peasant girl backed off in reluctant acquiescence to his unspoken command.

  Cailla saw expressions of sympathy on the faces of the men and knew Logan had skillfully disarmed their anger toward her as well by reminding them of her courage.

  She turned to him, her eyes filled with regret for her hasty words. She felt words of apology crowd her throat and swallowed them back. She would not apologize to the man who had refused to defend her castle and seduced her, now claiming her as his wife.

  Logan glanced at her and drew a deep ragged breath.

  “Let’s go to bed, wife. Tomorrow we will deal with all the problems that assail us,” he said in a deep, gruff voice. He’d sunk back on the bench as if unable to stand any longer. His tartan gapped so she glimpsed the shirt beneath, which was soaked with new blood.

  “Your wound has opened,” she said in a low voice.

  Maggie rushed forward. “You’re bleeding. You’ve been wounded.”

  “Aye, ‘tis nothing.”

  “Let me tend it for you,” Maggie offered, turning toward the fire to dip up hot water.

  “Bring it to your father’s room,” Logan said. “My lady wife will attend me.”

  He rose and took a step, only to stagger and nearly fall. Cailla caught him and put her shoulder beneath his arms. His men rushed to help, taking his weight on their shoulders and carrying him to Tam’s bed. Anxiously, Cailla followed, sorry now for every contentious word she’d said to him. What if he died with her accusations ringing in his ears? When he was placed on the bed, she knelt beside him, her capable hands already removing his tartan and ripping aside the filthy shirt and rags Logan had packed against his wound. Maggie brought the water and watched as Cailla washed his wound and rebound it in clean cloths the girl had brought. When she was finished, she looked at Maggie.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said.

  Maggie scowled. The men began to shuffle out of the room and finally even Maggie seemed to understand she must go as well. She cleared away the bowl of bloody water and blood soaked cloths as she left the room with a final glare.

  Logan had fallen into a restless doze, but now he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  “Alone at last,” he said, “and in a room with a comfortable bed and I’m unable to take advantage of it.”

  “Oh, you,” she snapped and got to her feet. She was exhausted and wondered where she should sleep.

  Logan caught her hand. “Come to bed,” he said softly. “You’re safe from my unwanted advances this night.” She hesitated and he grimaced. “Don’t you trust me, lass?” The timbre of his voice caused a shiver to move over her and unbidden the memory of them locked in an embrace. He seemed to read the thoughts in her mind.

  “Don’t judge me by our first night, Cailla,” he said. “There’s more between a man and a woman than what you experienced then. Have patience with me and trust me. I’ll be a pleasing husband to you.”

  She remained silent, but something in her face must have given him hope for he held out his hand.

  “Come, lay down beside me, wife. Give me your warmth and comfort.”

  Without any intention of hers, her feet moved her across the rough floor, carrying her to the bed and the man who waited for her there, his eyes dark shadowed and filled with desire. Her body answered that call from him, wanting his touch, wanting to hear him whisper words of love, wanting the taste and smell of him. She took his hand and he smiled. Her heart clutched, her belly clenched.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  She released his hand and began to shed the clothes she’d worn since first they met. After bathing in cold mountain streams, she’d had nothing else to put on. Her shirt and britches fell to the floor and she stood before him. She knew what he saw—a woman little more than a girl, slim and straight as a birch willow, her hips flaring slightly, her breasts rounded, the nipples puckered with wanting. She’d never given a lot of thought to her own beauty, but she was glad now that she possessed it, glad to show herself to him. He stared at her like a man hungry for food seeing a feast before him. Again, he held out his hand and pulled her into the bed. She slid in beside him and found her body molding to his. He tucked her against his side and kissed her brow.

  “I can’t do what a husband should at such a moment,” he whispered in her ear. “My wound is too wearisome tonight, but God willing the morning will bring me new strength. Will you stay with me, lass?”

  “I am your wife.” She heard the words uttered and would have drawn them back if she could, but they’d been spoken and lay between them.

  He sighed and relaxed beside her. His large hand moved back and forth along her arm. “Smooth and soft like a figure fashioned by the gods,” he murmured against her ear and said no more.

  She looked at his face and saw it was relaxed in sleep. Disappointment shot through her, but a strange sense of protectiveness enveloped her as well. She put her arms around his shoulders and settled herself more tightly against his side. The rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing, his strength and warmth lulled her to sleep. She’d never felt so safe since her father left Tioram. Her lashes fluttered down and she welcomed the warm darkness that claimed her.

  She woke in the middle of the night to feel a strange, insistent bulge against her belly. She lay still trying to discern its origin when really she already knew.

  “Are you awake, Logan?” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he whispered back and his arms tightened around her.

  Now she could feel his hard cock poking against her mound. His big hand swept across her back from nape to buttocks.

  “You must be feeling better,” she said with a tinge of humor.

  Briefly, the thought crossed her mind that she should get up. That she should never have let him persuade her to remove her clothes and come to bed with him, but it was too late. Besides, a storm was brewing between them. His tumultuous penis signified his desires. Though hidden to his eyes, her own desires were raging through her.
His hand brushed against her hard nipples and he laughed.

  “I see you feel as I do,” he murmured.

  She flushed to think that her body had given her away. Well, so be it. She’d railed at him all day, trying to deny her lust for him and now it was to late to pretend otherwise.

  “Aye, Laird Logan,” she whispered. “If ‘tis as you say and I’m truly your wife, then I would demand my wifely rights.”

  He went still for a moment, his arms closing around her. He dragged her against him. His lips pressed down on hers, opening her own. His tongue invaded, subdued, captured. Fire ran through her veins and for the tiniest moment, she thought of her mother who would surely be aghast that her daughter was so wanton, then such thoughts vanished. She was a woman who must make her own decisions and she had, at least partly, steered by this large-boned warrior who claimed her with an unerring possessiveness that thrilled her to her core. She answered his kiss without reservation as she had their first night together. Whatever she felt on the morning, she would not regret this night, she promised herself.

  Logan was breathing heavily, but he pulled away from her.

  “I want to take my time with you, lass. The other night, I was not as mindful of your pleasure as I should have been, but if we are to enjoy each other over the years, we begin now.”

  He dipped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. He rolled them against his teeth with his tongue and she felt a flare of sweet pain that speared through her body and left her wet and wanting. She moaned and arched her back. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same thorough attention he had the first.

  Nerve endings throughout her whole body clamored with a desire, barely awakened their first night together. Unconsciously she spread her legs to relieve the pressure building in her crotch. It didn’t help. She felt her muscles rippling with anticipation and she rolled her hips, bucking them in a silent invitation, but Logan merely raised his head and purred to her.

  “Be patient, my beautiful lady,” he crooned. “We have all night, many hours before dawn, and I intend to fill them all as I spill my seed into your body.”

  His words wakened fires within her and she rolled her head from side to side as his hands stroked down her side, caressing her hips and thighs before returning to the vee of her crotch. There his hands moved with unerring accuracy to her thatch where he carefully parted her nether lips and stroked her clitoris.

  She moaned softly, opening herself to him. She could feel her cream flowing from her vagina, so great was her desire. She wanted to tell him to hurry, to bury his long hard cock deep inside her as he had that first night, but he rose above her and lowered his head. His tongue rasped along her clitoris, hot and soft and hard and arousing as nothing else could possibly be. She arched her body, her knees spread to give him greater excess. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more, needed more. She bent her knees and brought them up to her chest, then spread them wide so she was completely revealed to him.

  He was merciless, his tongue plundering her tender flesh, his fingers probing, caressing, awakening. She rode a crest of passion, which threatened to engulf her. Before she had wanted him to hurry. Now she only wanted him to continue what he was doing and never stop. She sensed a bright shadow rushing toward her like a wave, dancing just there out of her reach.

  Her muscles tightened as she reached for it, then it broke around her and an intense pleasure such as she’d never known swept over her. She screamed, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. She wanted him to stop because she could bear no more and was fearful he might do just that. Finally, she fell over the edge into a world of myriad colors and sensations, like a petal of some exquisite blossom floating to a soft green cushion of grass. She lay exhausted, unable to move. Logan lapped up the cream of her cum and raised his head to smile at her.

  “You give new meaning to the word lady,” he said, his voice rich with laughter.

  “If this is the way of things for a wife, I don’t object as much as I thought I would,” she answered impudently. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She was surprised to feel his cock, still long and hard.

  “M’laird?” she said in some puzzlement.

  “Oh, we’re not yet finished, m’lady wife,” he growled and pulled her on top so she straddled his hips. “In fact, we’ve just started.”

  With his hands around her waist, he lifted her and eased her down so his penis penetrated her, pushing through her flesh with devastating effects. She arched, throwing her head back. His hands found her breasts as he pumped against her. She moved with him, feeling the strumming, pulsing rush begin again. His cock seemed to grow inside her, filling her more and more with each stroke, invading her, claiming her until her body no longer belonged to her but to that white hot pleasure that was breaking over her.

  She moved with him and heard his gasps. He called her name. His muscles rippled inside her, moving her closer to that spot that brought the ultimate pleasure. She reached out for it with her body and her mind. His hands gripped her hips, holding her tight for one final plunge that carried them over the edge of cognitive function and onto a plain of bright pleasure. They climaxed together, bucking against the intensity of it, then fell back against the bed while their breathing slowed and they lay spent.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Cailla asked.

  “I can’t tell. I’m too content to care,” Logan answered.

  They lay in each other’s arms, their muscles relaxing, the sweat drying on their bodies, and eventually they slept. The final thought Cailla had was that this night she’d crossed a bridge she could never uncross.

  Her father had betrothed her to Logan and she had willingly become his wife. Now she lay beside him, while a parade of images marched across her mind, images of him riding fearlessly into battle against Lundy’s patrol. He was a man above all other. He was indeed a leader and a warrior. No wonder her father had broken his word to her and betrothed her to such a man.

  There would be no further recriminations. Tomorrow, she would begin a new life with Logan and one day with his help, she’d recover Tioram.

  Chapter Eleven

  High-pitched clan shouts rent the air. Cailla work with a start. Logan was already out of bed and pulling on his tattered breeches.

  “What’s happening?” she cried. “Is someone attacking us?”

  ““Tis Jaimie,” Logan said, hopping on one foot. His face was alight with anticipation. “He’s returned with my mother.”

  “Your mother?” Cailla cried and leaped out of bed, reaching for her own tattered clothes.

  Logan was already out the door before she was dressed. She dashed after him and arrived in the croft yard to see men rushing down the slope, whooping and laughing. Logan and the rest of the clan were dancing and whistling as if at a festival. Behind Jaimie and one or two other men, Cailla saw an entourage of wagons and a heavy stagecoach. It bobbed and weaved its way down the rutty slope. A large force of men followed on horseback and afoot.

  Jaimie and Scotty rode pell-mell into the yard and quickly dismounted, throwing their arms around their comrades.

  “Did you bring my mother?” Logan asked after Jaimie’s exuberant greeting.

  “Aye, she’s in yon coach. And anxious she is to see you.” Jaimie turned to slap Tam’s shoulder and gawked at Maggie who stood nearby.

  “Is this wee Maggie? The girl with snaggled teeth and freckles?” he declared.

  “Aye, and I’m not so wee anymore,” she answered tartly, putting her hands saucily on her hips. “So mind your tongue, Jaimie Gillecroix or you’ll know my wrath.”

  “Oh, so it’s threatening me, you are, Maggie Hardy?” Jaimie swooped her up in his arms and threw her into the air.

  She let out a scream. “Put me down,” she cried. “I’m not a wee bairn, anymore.”

  But Jaimie twirled around with her so her skirts flew out and her bare feet were revealed. Her shouts of out
rage turned to giggles so when he sat her down, her face was glowing and her eyes sparkling. Color stained her cheeks. Jaimie seized her and planted a kiss on her mouth and in that moment, their humor died away and they stared at each other. Jaimie pulled her close again and lowered his head to hers in a long kiss. When he drew away he looked as startled as Maggie.

  The wagons and coach arrived and once again there were rowdy greetings. Logan rushed to throw open the door and help a tall, well-dressed woman to alight. She threw her arms around her son and held him close.

  “You’re home, safe,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, I prayed for you, especially when word came that you’d been captured.”

  “Aye, I’m home now and that’s behind us,” Logan said. “We’re safe.”

  “I pray you’re right,” she answered. “Lundy has returned to Cluny and he’s set on securing the castle for himself. You know how he always wanted Cluny.”

  “He’ll not have it,” Logan declared. “It belongs to the MacPhersons and by God, MacPherson sons will grow up there.”

  “Several lairds have sent emissaries to the king to petition the return of properties to those men who fought for Montrose.”

  “Aye, he’ll have to grant pardons and return lands,” Logan said somberly. “If he allows men like Lundy to take land holdings they’ve no right too, he’ll never win back the loyalty of his clans. His reign will be considerably weakened.”

  “Pray he does it quickly,” his mother answered then smiled. “I heard you took a wife.”

  “I’m forgetting my manners. This is my new bride, Lady Cailla, daughter of Laird Gowain of the MacLaren clan. Wife, this is my mother, Lady Jean.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Cailla said stiffly all too aware of her ragged, inappropriate clothes, still, she curtseyed. Lady Jean stepped forward and enclosed her in an embrace.

  “Jaimie told me about you. He said you’re beautiful and courageous. He told me how you fought for your home against impossible odds and that you even bested Logan.” The men around them cheered. “I shall enjoy seeing that. It will take him down a peg or two.”