Bride for a Knight

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  His gaze went to her little bowl of warming oil, its heady violet scent already rising. The drifting fumes perfumed the air, intoxicating his senses.

  “’Tis too late for warmed oil massages, too,” he added, his voice turning husky. “Too late as well for the removal of your shift.”

  He flashed her a smile, one that quickly spread into a roguish grin when her sapphire eyes deepened with her own desire and she stood to retrieve the bowl of oil anyway.

  “There is another use for the oil,” she said, placing one foot on the stool and easing up her shift’s dampened skirt, her position leaving her fragrant woman’s curls but a handsbreath from his face.

  “Sweet Jesu!” The two words escaped between Jamie’s teeth as he realized her intent. “Where’er did you learn such a wanton’s trick?”

  “From my sister, Maili,” she explained, already dipping her fingers into the bowl. “Her husband is also quite well-proportioned, though I canna believe he is so large as you. Maili told me if e’er I were to wed such a well-favored man, I might rub myself with warmed oil before the first few couplings and thus ease the joinings.”

  Jamie swallowed.

  She touched glistening fingers to her sex. Holding his gaze, she began gently rubbing the oil between her legs, even applying some to the tender flesh of her smooth inner thighs.

  It took Jamie all of a heartbeat to know what he wanted to do.

  “Nay, lass, let me,” he said, thrusting his fingers into the bowl of heated oil. “I will rub you.”

  And in ways that would make her far more ready for him than any scented oil, heated or otherwise.

  “Come closer,” he urged her, “and part your legs for me. Just enough so that I can see and touch you.”

  And she did, stepping so near that her sweetness hovered just above him. The rich musk of her arousal flooded his senses, making him drunk with desire.

  He touched his fingers to her then and a startled gasp broke from her lips. Pleased by the sound and the flare of desire in her eyes, he rubbed her, carefully massaging the oil onto her most tender, sweetest flesh.

  She trembled beneath his caress, her own fingers digging into the folds of her shift as she held the bunched material well above her thighs.

  “Holy saints,” she breathed, a great rippling shudder streaking through her when he ceased his feather light strokings and began sliding a slow, probing finger up and down the very center of her.

  “Ach, lass, you are just beginning to explore pleasure.” At last, Jamie flicked lightly at her most sensitive spot. “This will melt you as naught else,” he told her, circling his finger over her quivering flesh.

  Slow, deliberate circlings he kept up until she closed her eyes and began to rock her hips. She arched her heat against his hand, her hitching breath and the slick moisture damping his fingers letting him know it was time.

  “I can wait no longer,” he vowed, seizing her by the waist and lifting her into the tub. “I am sorry, lass, I would that it could’ve been otherwise.”

  “It is perfect,” she cried, looking down to where he held her poised above him. “You are perfect. Fully magnificent, and I would have no other.”

  She wriggled against him, her slick female heat slipping across the swollen tip of his shaft, a sensation almost blinding in its exquisiteness. Jamie threw back his head and clenched his teeth, unable to keep his hips from lifting in response, the tip of his iron-hard shaft sliding right into her.

  Not the long fluid thrustings he burned to give her, sure, deep, and smooth. This was only a first tentative sheathing, her slick and tight wetness taking only a few throbbing inches.

  Or so he thought until she flung her arms around his neck and, kissing him, slid the rest of her sweet, clinging tightness right down over him.

  “Mother of God!” he cried, his seed shooting into her even as he tore through her innocence. Her own precious little body jerked and tightened against him, the glory of her pleasure cries shattering him even more than the power of his release.

  A wonder he would ne’er have believed possible.

  Even if, in truth, she’d only taken half of him.

  There would be time later to accustom her to more. And he knew now that she’d welcome each joining with him, for there could be no mistaking that her passion had burned as hotly.

  But his wonder was the greatest, he decided, reveling in the feel of her, all soft and silky warm in his arms. His heart clenched, and he was certain he’d ne’er be able to have enough of her.

  Never be able to hold her closely enough or slide deeply enough inside her, kiss her long enough or explore every sweet inch of her with his hands and lips and tongue. Live enough days to love her as endlessly as he wished to do.

  And, in time, he hoped, make her love him.

  She consumed him and ne’er had he felt such a burning need to make a woman his.

  She was also still straddling him. Her sweet rose-puckered nipples pressed into his chest and her sleek female wetness proved an irresistible delight. He’d thought to wash and tend her, making certain he hadn’t hurt her. But already he was swelling again, each hot slick glide of her softness over his shaft, causing him to pulse and throb anew.

  “You dinna ken what you’re doing, sweetness,” he warned, pushing to his feet and sweeping her up with him. “I can no longer be responsible for what happens between us behind closed and barred doors.”

  “And beyond those doors?” She stepped out of her dripping camise and kicked it aside.

  “Beyond them?”

  She stepped closer, trailing her fingers through his glistening chest hair. “I know a fine woodland glade,” she began, letting her hand glide lower as her gaze slid to Kendrick’s erotic window shutters.

  She looked back at him. “You did say there are many ways for us to be intimate?”

  Jamie nodded, his throat too thick for words.

  He’d followed her glance and knew full well what stood painted on Kendrick’s shutters.

  The notion of enjoying even one of the shutters’ sensual pleasures with her almost robbed his breath.

  “There are many ways for a loving couple to enjoy each other,” he said when he could speak. He watched her carefully, waiting to see if she’d respond to his unspoken question.

  And she did, the comprehending light in her eyes nearly bringing him to his knees.

  Her gaze flew once more to the shutters. “I hope you will show me all of those ways.”

  “As you wish it,” he agreed, silently thanking Kendrick for acquiring the shutters.

  She need never know how much he and his other brothers had ribbed Kendrick about his choice.

  “Aye, lass, so it shall be,” he said again, just because it pleased him. “There is naught I would deny you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  You did say there was naught you’d deny me.”

  Jamie’s words came back to haunt him just a few days later. In fine Highland tradition, he put back his shoulders and folded his arms, determined to maintain his dignity. Even so, he couldn’t quite keep his lips from twitching and only the solemnity of the day kept him from laughing out loud.

  That, and the great press of kinsmen and friends crowding Baldreagan’s bailey.

  “Naught, you said,” his lady reminded him.

  Jamie gave a noncommittal humph.

  He should have known better than to trust a woman with such a broad and all-encompassing statement.

  Aveline Matheson included.

  Nay, her in especial.

  Blessedly, she’d leaned close, pitching her voice soft and low so that only he could hear her. Still, knowing what sharp ears the MacKenzie lasses possessed, he was quite sure they’d heard her, too.

  Likewise their puissant father’s hovering, ever-present guardsmen, however busy they were dashing about with travel coffers and all the other goods the Black Stag’s cosseted daughters deemed essential to their well-being. Jamie’s own da had surely heard as well, along with
Morag and anyone else who’d gathered to bid farewell and good journeying to Baldreagan’s departing guests.

  “It would be so nice to see them again,” Aveline persisted, watching the bustle.

  Jamie slid a glance at her, bracing himself for more carefully crafted persuasion. They were standing in the shadow of the keep’s forebuilding and he stepped closer now and hooked his fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she had to look at him.

  “The MacKenzies have already promised to come here for our wedding revelries in the spring,” he told her, lowering his own voice.

  Not because he cared if Gelis Long-nose and the MacKenzies heard what he had to say, but because he did not relish his father hearing him.

  Even though the thrawn old goat stood a good distance away. Looking more stubborn than usual, he leaned heavily on Morag’s arm, having stoutly refused to use a crummock for support. But walking stick or no, Jamie knew there was nothing wrong with Munro’s hearing.

  Truth be told, he’d often suspected the man could listen through walls.

  Indeed, for all Jamie knew, such a feat might well be how he always managed to get the better of his fellow Highland cattle lairds, e’er seeming to know what the men said behind his back or when they believed Munro out of earshot.

  “I have ne’er sailed the Hebrides,” Aveline pressed him then, hooking her hand through his arm and squeezing. “Lady Gelis says her father or his friend, Sir Marmaduke, would surely take us on a grand sailing adventure. Perhaps even as far south to the Isle of Doon? We could visit Devorgilla—”

  Jamie laughed despite himself. “The wise woman of Doon? For truth, lass, that one ne’er misses a wedding feast anywhere in the Highlands and the Isles,” he said, secretly certain the indomitable cailleach could even appear at two celebrations at the same time if she wished it. “You will surely see her in the spring as well. Without—”

  “But—”

  “Without us having to make the long journey to Eilean Creag and even farther to Devorgilla’s fair isle,” he finished for her, looking pleased with his logic.

  Aveline cast a wistful glance at the MacKenzie pannier ponies. Well-burdened and restless, they appeared eager to be on their way. Excitement began to beat through her. Lifting her chin, she gave Jamie her most hopeful smile.

  “Visiting the MacKenzies would be an adventure,” she said, certain of it.

  But Jamie only shook his head.

  “Nay, lass,” he disagreed, speaking close to her ear, “it would be a strenuous excursion that would push my da past his limits.”

  “Oh.” Aveline’s face fell. “You are right, of course. And he would ne’er stay behind.”

  “There you have the way of it.”

  Jamie sighed, sliding a quick glance at his father. Although he kept his bearded chin proudly lifted and was even making an effort to be halfway gallant and charming to the three MacKenzie women, Jamie was certain he was leaning even more heavily on Morag’s arm than he had been moments ago.

  Most troubling of all, the sparkling glint in the old man’s eyes that Jamie knew most would mistake for a host’s laughing good cheer, wasn’t the like at all.

  Munro’s eyes were misting with emotion.

  He was sorry to see the girls depart and Jamie worried that without their light and laughter, their lively and spirited chatter filling the hall of an e’en, his da’s spirits would grow even bleaker.

  To be sure, he cherished Aveline. As, it would seem, did everyone at Baldreagan. They’d heartily welcomed her into their midst. But she’d become family; the MacKenzies had provided a distraction.

  A most welcome distraction. And a needed one, especially for Munro.

  Jamie ran a hand through his hair and pressed his lips together, trying not to frown. His father wasn’t healing as fast as he should either and much as Jamie wished otherwise, a long journey by land and sea, now, or even in the spring, would surely be too much for him.

  “Sorry, lass.” Jamie turned back to his bride. “A spring journey to Eilean Creag is one pleasure I canna give you.”

  He smoothed his knuckles down her cheek. “Leastways no’ this year.”

  “But you will keep your word and take me to St. Maelrubha’s this afternoon?” She kept her sapphire gaze fixed on him. “I thought we’d take some heather to your mother.”

  Jamie frowned after all.

  And promptly recalled another bit of masterful manly wisdom the great Black Stag of Kintail had once shared. Namely that females have an astonishing ability to take the slightest slip-of-tongue and embroider it to suit them. Most often to an unsuspecting male’s distinct disadvantage.

  Jamie blew out a breath and shoved back his hair. Truth was, he’d said a very vague something about wishing to pay a call on old Hughie Mac. Close as Hughie’s cottage was to the Garbh Uisge, Jamie thought to question him.

  After all, Hughie, too, claimed to have seen the ghosts of Jamie’s brothers.

  That alone made a visit worthwhile.

  But a return to the Macpherson kirkyard and the dark and dank-smelling little chapel had not been mentioned. Nor was going there how Jamie preferred to spend the day with his lady.

  Especially if such a visit involved taking a clutch of heather to his mother’s tomb. Jamie stiffened. That kind of folly was something he hadn’t allowed himself since he was a wee lad. Munro had caught him, chasing him from the chapel in fury, ranting that he’d had no right to lay blooms on the grave of a mother he’d killed.

  But before he could tell Aveline he had no desire to go there, Gelis ran over to them, all ringing laughter, glowing cheeks, and bright, wind-tangled hair.

  “I’ faith! Have you e’er seen such frowners?” she cried, tossing a glance at her father’s guardsmen, nary a scowling man amongst them. “They are complaining that I’ve brought too much baggage! But”—she flung an arm around Aveline and smiled— “Arabella and I were forewarned. ’Tis said that the farther north one travels, the less likely it is to expect even a lumpy pallet to sleep on, much less a palatable meal!”

  “No one told us any such thing,” Arabella amended, joining them.

  She reached to smooth Gelis’s hair, her own braid sleek and black as a raven’s wing and nary a strand out of place. “You know we are going to visit Lady Mariota’s father in Assynt. Archibald Macnicol is as proud a chieftain as our own da. His holding, Dunach Castle, will surely have no less comforts than Eilean Creag.”

  Gelis swatted at her sister’s hand. “Loch Assynt is also known for its dread water horse—lest you’ve forgotten!” she exclaimed, pulling a face. “And if we do venture on to Lady Juliana’s Mackay kin in Strathnaver, ’tis said the land thereabouts is riddled with the faery mounds of the Sithe and that the ghosts of fearless and bloodthirsty Norsemen sleep in the high dunes of every strand!”

  Arabella sniffed. “Sleeping Norsemen you’d no doubt waken with all your twitter and babbling.”

  Jamie choked and hid a smile behind his hand.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” Arabella said, looking at him. “You know it’s the truth.”

  Unfazed, Gelis fluffed her skirts. “Vikings were braw men. Tall blond giants with hot blue eyes and huge, wicked swords they gave names like Wolf Tooth or Leg Biter. They—”

  “They were heathen sea-raiders,” Arabella corrected.

  Flipping her neat black braid over her shoulder, she sent a meaningful glance across the bailey to where Beardie was helping the MacKenzie guardsmen load the long line of pannier horses. As always, he wore his huge Norseman’s ax thrust proudly beneath his belt, though he’d forgone his rusty winged helmet. Catching the girls’ stares, he lifted a hand in greeting but his most-times good-natured smile appeared a tiny bit forced.

  Looking back at her sister, Arabella shook her head. “I daresay you’ve already broken one Viking heart and you can be certain Lady Juliana and I will be watching you closely when we get to Dunach.”

  Gelis rolled her eyes. “I truly do fear we’ll get naught
to eat in the far north but dry oatcakes and salt fish,” she fussed, hot-eyed Vikings and their swords apparently forgotten. “For truth, I’d rather stay here.”

  She paused to look at Jamie. “Mother sent us here for a reason. And—”

  “We’ve seen her concerns addressed,” Lady Juliana finished for her, “and your father’s men are waiting on us. They are ready to ride.”

  She placed a hand on both girls’ shoulders, offering an apologetic look to Jamie and Aveline. “You will have a care?” she asked, speaking to them both though her words were clearly meant for Jamie.

  He nodded, wishing the sun hadn’t chosen that moment to slip behind a cloud, its abrupt disappearance casting the bailey in shadow and drawing attention to the chill, knifing wind.

  “All will be well.” Aveline gave the older woman a quick, impulsive hug. “God go with you, and let us know when you’ve safely returned to Kintail.”

  When she stepped back, Jamie took Lady Juliana’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a farewell kiss. “We shall look forward to seeing you in the spring, my lady. Here at Baldreagan, God willing.”

  I shall ask the Old Ones to watch o’er you, Jamie thought he heard her say as he released her hand. But already she’d turned and was striding briskly toward the waiting MacKenzie guardsmen and, he saw, his father’s own men who were scrambling to open the gates.

  “Till the spring!” Gelis cried, throwing her arms around both Jamie and Aveline, hugging them tight. “I shall dance the whole night of your wedding!”

  “If you do not run off with a hot-eyed Viking before we return home!” Arabella quipped, waiting for her own chance to embrace her hosts.

  When it came, she blinked furiously and dashed at the tears suddenly wetting her cheeks. “Do not do anything foolhardy, James Macpherson,” she warned. “My da has a formidable temper as you well know—you willna want him grieved with you for not heeding Mother’s message.”

  Then she whirled on her heels and was gone, Gelis flying after her. A flurry of skirts, a few frantic hand waves and cries, and the whole loud, racket-making party of MacKenzies were through the gates and vanished.