by B. J. Scott
“Unless you’ve changed your mind, best we proceed. The groom looks restless.” Angus nodded toward Blair. “There is still time to back out.”
She stiffened. Did she truly love him? The only times she’d been kissed by a man was when she and Blair reunited at the festival, the night he stole into her chamber, and again when he asked her to be his bride. She had nothing to compare her feelings to, but had to admit, she enjoyed each time immensely. Her body had reacted in glorious ways. And she couldn’t ignore the undeniable connection she felt on the day they met. When their eyes locked for the first time, it was as if he could see into her soul. If anything, the link between them grew stronger with every encounter. “Nay. I wish to marry Blair,” she finally responded, then moved forward.
“You steal my breath away,” Blair said when she joined him at the front of the kirk. He grasped her hand, then pressed his lips to her open palm.
Her pulse quickened. The caress of his warm, moist breath on her skin made her tingle from head to toe. For a moment, she thought she might faint.
“Ahem! Can this not wait until after we’ve finished?” the priest asked.
“Forgive me, Father. I was captivated by her beauty and lost my head,” Blair replied, but he never took his eyes off Laurel. “If my bride is ready, please proceed.”
Laurel nodded. “Aye.”
After binding their wrists together with a strip of MacClay plaid, the priest waited for them to kneel before he recited the first prayer. When he asked if anyone had reason to oppose the union, Laurel bit down on her lower lip to keep from voicing her own concerns.
Blair gazed into her eyes as he recited his vows and her doubts seemed to dissipate like the early morning dew on the moors. More certain than ever, she repeated her vows with equal enthusiasm.
“You may kiss your bride,” the priest announced amidst the cheers from those present.
Blair tugged her to her feet. He quickly released them from their bonds, encircled her waist with his strong arm, then held her firmly against his chest. With his free hand, he clasped the back of her head and allowed his thumb to trace her jawline. “You’ve made me the happiest man. You’ve filled a place in my heart reserved for only you.” He lowered his head, then lightly flicked his tongue over her waiting lips, before pressing his mouth to hers.
She swooned and clutched at his sleeve for support. When he finally eased back, she stared up at him. “I am the lucky one.”
Several musicians on bagpipes began to play a lively piobaireach.
John Cameron approached the couple. “As the groom’s father, it is my right to be the first to congratulate you both. May you have years of happiness and produce many strong sons. A grandson by next summer would make me a verra happy man.”
Within seconds, hoards of people rushed them, each offering best wishes, thumping Blair on the back, and wanting to kiss the bride. Amidst the fuss, Laurel craned her neck, searching for her uncle. When she spied him at the back of the kirk, about to leave, she broke free of Blair’s grasp, then ran toward him.
“Uncle, please wait.”
Lachlan reached the outside of the chapel before he stopped and turned to face her. He peeked out from beneath his hood, but remained silent.
“Were you planning to leave without saying goodbye?” she asked. She placed her hand on his forearm. “I am honored that you stayed for the ceremony. Must you go so soon?”
“The time has come. I’ve been away from my home far too long. I grow weary and wish to be on my way,” he replied. “Out of respect for your father, I felt it was my duty to remain until the union took place, but leave Clan MacClay in the capable hands of you and your new husband.”
“Now that you’ve returned, I hate to lose you again. I am sure in time you would find happiness here. We could send for Ann. She would be most welcome.” She clasped his right hand and pressed it against her cheek. “It would mean so much to me if you would at least consider my request.”
“You know that isna possible,” he answered simply. He eased his hand free, then cupped her chin. “I never had any bairns of my own, but if I had a daughter, I would want her to be like you. Your father had good reason to be proud. I have faith in you and Blair. But if ever you need anything or wish to visit, Robert will tell you where you can find me,” he said, then tugged his hood farther over his head, hiding his face from her sight.
“Laurel, why did you run off?” Blair asked as he exited the kirk.
She spun to face him. “I saw my uncle leaving and I wanted to beg him once more to . . .” When she turned around, Lachlan was gone. “He was here a minute ago.”
“I have no doubt.” Blair wrapped his arm around her shoulder, then kissed her cheek. “I know you hoped he might decide to stay, but he told us last night that he planned to leave. We were blessed he remained long enough to see us wed.”
“I prayed he’d change his mind.” She brought her hand up to catch a stray tear. “He is my father’s brother and my only living relative. I wanted to take care of him.”
“He isna the sort of man who needs a nursemaid. Let him go and wish him Godspeed. It is all any of us can do.” He brushed her damp cheek with his fingertips, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Come, we have guests and a ceilidh to attend. If my da and brothers have had a hand in the planning, it will be verra special.”
Blair underestimated his father’s influence with the clan. In Lachlan’s absence, he took it upon himself to make this a celebration no one would soon forget. With the aid of several clan members, John Cameron arranged for a feast that surpassed Laurel’s expectations. Musicians and jugglers entertained as tray after tray of meat, fish, vegetables, bread, fruit, and cheese was paraded into the great hall. Wine and ale were plentiful, mead and whisky abundant.
Blair filled a trencher to share with her, but she had no appetite. She fidgeted in her seat while she pushed a piece of roast venison around on her side of the platter, her fear about the wedding night resurfacing.
“Are you well?” Blair whispered.
“Aye. Why do you ask?” She peered up at him, doing her best to smile.
Blair clucked his tongue. “You appear distracted, even sad. Are you not happy? I hope you’re not having second thoughts about your decision to marry me,” he said as he gently swept a lock of hair from her forehead.
“I’m fine. A lot has transpired over the last few days, and I guess I am feeling a bit overwhelmed,” she replied, then glanced away.
“I asked if you were happy.” He cupped her chin, prompting her to look at him. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I think something is troubling you. I wish you would share what it is that spoils your mood.”
“If you must know, I am concerned about what will happen after the ceilidh ends.”
“I am sure the festivities will go on until the wee hours of the morning, even days if I know my brothers.” He chuckled.
Laurel frowned, the heat of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. “I’m not talking about the festivities,” she clarified. “I meant when we are alone in my parents’ chamber as man and wife.”
“There is no reason for concern, my love,” he replied so only she could hear.
“I have never shared a man’s bed, so I dinna know what to expect or how to please you. I fear you might be disappointed”
“That could never happen, my love.”
“I also heard that the elders must be present at our first joining. Is that true?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, to keep it from quivering. She fought back tears, but to no avail. “I dinna think I could bear to have them gawking at us. Even if it is tradition. I had shoved that concern to the back of my mind when Allan and I were to be wed, after he made it clear he was not interested in bedding me right away, if ever. And I prayed the marriage would never take place, that you would be back in ti
me to stop it. And you were. But now we are wed . . . ” She sniffled.
Blair’s heart clenched. The sight of her crying brought about tender emotions, the need to comfort and protect her. “I willna let that happen. There is no reason for me or anyone else to question your virtue. In fact, your innocence, the knowledge that I will be your first and only lover makes it all the sweeter. As for our joining, I promise to be gentle and take things as slowly as you wish.” He kissed her knuckles one at a time, then stood, drawing her with him. “Dance with me.” He nuzzled her ear. “Please,” he murmured softly, then whisked her to the center of the room before she had a chance to protest.
“I . . . I never learned to dance,” she stammered.
“Then we must remedy that now. Follow me. I will show you the steps.” He spun her in a circle.
She giggled, then rested her cheek on his chest. “I am so embarrassed. Everyone is staring at us,” she whispered, then peered up at him and smiled. “I do wish to learn. I’m told my mother was a wonderful dancer.”
Despite her initial awkwardness, she was a quick study. Within minutes, he had her gliding across the floor as if she was born to dance.
After several turns around the room, he scooped her into his arms. “I think it is time to bid our guests farewell.”
She buried her face in his tunic, obviously discomfited by the cheers and comments about the wedding night as he carried her toward the door.
“Pay them no mind. They jest and dinna mean any harm,” he said to reassure her, and would have succeeded if not for two of the clan elders blocking their exit.
One of the men cleared his throat before he spoke. “As I’m sure you are aware, the joining must be witnessed. There can be no doubt the lass is a virgin and the marriage is consummated.
When Laurel raised her head, Blair saw the horrified expression on her face. “To hell with tradition. Get out of my way,” he demanded. He’d given her his word there would be no spectators and he meant to keep that promise.
“Is there a problem?” John Cameron asked as he strode toward them.
“I was just explaining that in order to make certain the lass’ maidenhead is intact, and that any prodigy of this union is that of the new laird, there must be at least two witnesses present,” the elder replied bluntly.
“I have no doubt about Laurel’s virtue, and am sure my son is equal to the task. Step aside and let them pass. There will be no intrusion on their first night together, or any other night,” John growled, then crossed his arms over his chest.
“But—” the elder began.
“I said move. Now.” John placed his hand over the hilt of his sword.
“It has been done this way for centuries,” the elder grumbled as he cleared the doorway.
“Then it is high time things changed,” John replied. “Best you see your wife to your chamber, son.” He patted Blair on the shoulder. “Your brothers and I will make sure you are not disturbed.”
Chapter 23
“I’m told your room awaits,” John said. He gestured toward the door with a wave of his hand.
Blair offered his father a curt nod, then stepped around the elders, leaving the great hall. “Good thing my da came along when he did. I’d have hated to pummel an old man, but nothing is going to interfere with our first night together. Now that I am laird, things are going to change around here.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, fully intending for those still lingering nearby to hear his declaration.
Laurel didn’t respond. Instead, she nuzzled her cheek against his chest and released a soft sigh.
Arriving in the hallway and not quite sure which way to turn, Blair paused, shifting her in his arms. “I’ll need some directions, my love. I have no idea where to find our chamber.”
“We’ll be sharing my parents’ solar on the second floor. There is a large clan shield hanging on the door, you canna miss it.”
After climbing the stairs, Blair proceeded down the hall. The door to their room was ajar, so he opened it with his elbow. He carried her to the hearth before setting her down, quickly returning to close and bar the door. “We’ll have no uninvited visitors.”
Glancing around the ornately decorated room caused him to grin. “Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make things perfect.”
The roaring fire warmed the room. Fresh rushes covered the floor and flower petals adorned the embroidered linens atop the massive, canopy-covered bed. A jug of wine and a tray containing and assortment of food had been placed on the bedside table.
“They’ve thought of everything. We could stay in here for days and want for nothing,” Blair said, smiling. He removed his tunic, tossing it onto a chair, before heading toward Laurel. But he stopped short when her green eyes widened.
Sensing her uneasiness, he harnessed his passion. Not a simple task. But she obviously needed more time to settle in. He studied her in the glow of firelight, the outline of her petite figure, along with her stunning features, making his heart skip a beat. His gaze finally settled on her full lips. He craved the taste of her. He longed to take her, to find sweet release, and claim her as his own.
He yearned to show her the wonders of making love, but if he moved too quickly, he might frighten her. He wanted their first time and every time after that to be pleasurable. Shoving aside his need, he focused on hers.
Blair went to the table, poured wine into two pewter goblets, then held one in her direction. “Would you like some? It might help you to relax.” He picked up the other vessel and took a sip.
She shook her head. “Nay, I dinna care for spirits.” She lowered her gaze and nibbled on her lip. A habit he’d noticed whenever she felt uncertain.
He downed his drink, then placed the empty goblet on the table. “Take as long as you like. We have all night ahead of us.” His mouth dropped open when she turned her back to him and swept her auburn curls over her shoulder.
“Could you help me with my gown? It fastens at the neck. My maid usually assists me,” she said softly.
“Aye.” Somehow he forced the words past the sudden lump in his throat. He fumbled with the laces, but managed to untie them. When she didn’t move away, he slid the satin fabric off her shoulders, letting the garment fall to the floor.
She grasped the hem of her kirtle, then slid it over her head, her naked back and bottom exposed for his pleasure. He swallowed hard as he lightly ran his fingertips down her arms, then traced the curve of her tiny waist. When he felt her tremble, he nuzzled his nose against her ear. “You are so lovely, Laurel.”
Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent of lavender and heather, which he found more intoxicating than the wine. Rather than pull away, she turned to face him. Their eyes met, and he immediately hauled her against his chest, the proof of his arousal pressing on her belly.
Then his hungry mouth found hers, and he swept his tongue past her slightly parted lips. To his surprise, she responded by mimicking his actions.
She splayed her fingers across his chest, making no attempt to push him away. Instead, she nestled closer. “Make love to me,” she said against his lips.
“Are you sure you are ready?”
“Aye.”
There was no coaxing necessary. He carried her the short distance to their bed and laid her upon it. After kicking off his boots and removing his trews, he joined her, drawing her into his embrace.
He couldn’t believe the agonizing wait was over. She was finally in his arms, wanting him as much as he burned for her. The excitement of being the first man to make love to her pushed his reserve to the limits, but he wanted to savor every minute of their union.
Rolling to his side and resting on one elbow, he feasted on her beauty, committing every sensual dip and curve of her figure to memory. He envisioned her long, shapely legs, topped with a nest of tawny curls
, wrapped around his waist. Round, rose-tipped breasts beckoned him. A man could only take so much torture.
Blair kissed her lips, cheek, and jawline, pausing to nibble on her ear. She whimpered and snuggled closer. His heart raced, certain this was a sign of her surrender. He continued his sensual trail down the curve of her neck, dropping to her shoulder and beyond. His mouth moved over each luscious breast and his tongue flicked taut nipples. She arched her back and released a sob of pleasure as he slid his hand along her inner thigh, coming to rest over her most intimate place.