Cairstine kept busy for the entire day as she instructed servants to relocate Declan’s items to her chamber. Other than a few curious glances, the women worked quickly until everything was done. Afterward, she walked about Declan’s old room, picturing how she’d decorate it, so it could be used for visitors. Perhaps when her parents came, they could stay there.
“It looks so empty,” Flora, her mother-in-law, said upon entering. “I am glad that ye and Declan are so well suited that he wishes to remain in yer chamber.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “However...”
There was a long moment as her mother-in-law seemed to consider what to say next. “Ye should leave some of his things here. He should keep a room that belongs to him only. There will be times when ye will want him to.” She smiled warmly. “I have sent Craig to his chambers on plenty of occasions. Believe me, sleeping next to a man who’s been out boar hunting and doesn’t bother to wash is not something ye wish to experience.”
The thought made Cairstine wrinkle her nose. “Ye are right. I will ensure some of his tunics and such remain in here.”
“Did ye speak of what happened?” Flora trailed a hand over the bed as she opened the door to the balcony to allow fresh air in.
“Aye, we did a bit. I apologized for interfering. He said he was sorry for speaking so harshly.”
The softness in Flora’s gaze was indicative of how much the woman loved her son. “I am glad to hear it. If I am to give ye advice, ‘tis to always speak about things. Never allow a circumstance to fester.”
Cairstine nodded and followed her mother-in-law out onto the balcony.
The moisture in the air was foreboding. It would soon begin to snow. Cairstine hoped for it to hold off until Declan returned. However, before long, she spotted the first snowflakes floating downward.
“My sons should be almost to the keeps by now. The farthest keep ‘tis only a day’s ride and a few hours by birlinn. The men ride fast.”
It was not their arrival that worried her overmuch as it was the return. If the snow became heavy, the travel home would be slower.
“Come, let us have tea. I must speak to Mairi about the evening meal. I do believe the stew she has planned will be much better if we add potatoes.”
It was obvious that Flora sought to distract her from worry as she continued chatting the entire way. In the great room, servants were scrubbing the long tables, while two women swept rushes from the floor.
“I haven’t introduced ye to Innis, have I?” Her mother-in-law motioned to a beautiful woman who stopped sweeping and made her way over. The woman had rich brown, wavy hair that was pinned back and braided. With dark brown eyes and a curvy figure, the woman had garnered not just her attention, but also the men in attendance during the meals. Innis bowed her head. “Milady.”
Cairstine approached the servant. “I do believe we’ve met a long time ago in the village. Yer family sold baskets and such, did they not?”
The woman smiled. “Aye, milady. My mother still does most days. My da works here at the stables.”
“We will have to discuss basket making. I would love to learn,” Cairstine told Innis who smiled widely. “Of course, milady.”
They went to the kitchen where Moira argued with Mairi. Both women were looking at dough spread upon a table.
Her sister-in-law let out a huff. “I did exactly as ye instructed. I don’t know why ye now say something different.”
“’Tis the same recipe I got from my mother and she before from hers. I did not change it.” Mairi pinched the corner of the dough. “This will not do at all.”
“Fine! I will throw it out and start over.”
Upon noting their presence, both women looked up and Mairi waved them to come to the table. “Sit, sit, I will make ye some tea.”
Cairstine hesitated, unsure what would happen. She wasn’t used to the lady of the house having tea in the kitchen with the servants. However, at the Murray keep, it seemed they were lax about such rules.
It made her glad to have found such a good family to be a part of.
Three days passed and Cairstine began to worry her husband and men would not return. Gordan and his guardsmen had returned the day before and he was now at the evening meal. Although no one seemed particularly worried about the second party, Gordan had spoken of choppy seas returning from the Isle of Uist.
Cairstine pushed her food around her plate, her appetite waning with every passing minute.
Just as she wanted to scream in frustration, horns sounded and everyone stopped talking, the room quieting. A few moments later, a guard rushed down the stairs to stand before the high board. “The second party returns my laird.”
Cairstine wanted to rush outside and be there to greet Declan. Instead, she stood and went to find Innis. The woman stood at the back of the room with a pitcher in hand prepared to serve those needing anything.
“Innis, can ye have a bath prepared for my husband and see that a warm meal is delivered to our chambers. Hot tea with plenty of mead would also be nice.”
“Aye, of course.” The woman gave her pitcher to another servant who stood nearby and left the room.
The laird, along with Gordan, went to the entry to greet Declan, who entered and looked to be frozen. The now thicker beard had served to keep his face a bit warmer, but that did not distract from the lack of coloring to his face. The rest of the party rushed inside and huddled around the fireplaces that had been fed extra wood to ensure more heat.
Declan, his brother and father went to the other hearth while speaking in low tones.
He had yet to meet her gaze, so she remained a distance away as she’d seen Moira do when Gordan had arrived. Being he was not married, his sister fulfilled the duties of ordering his bath and, once Gordan had bathed, she’d kept him company while he ate in his chambers.
Finally, the men stopped talking and Declan scanned the room looking for her. His warm gaze fell over her and she wanted to ignore everyone else in the room and rush into his arms. Instead, she walked up to him. “I am glad to see ye arrive well, Husband. I have ordered a bath and meal for ye in yer...our chambers.”
“Thank ye,” he replied with a lifted brow. “Join me, please.”
She walked beside him, the chill of his fur cape trailing to her arm. “Ye must be so very cold,” she remarked, sliding a glance to him when he blew into this hands and rubbed them together.
“Aye, I am. The damned snow would not stop.”
Inside the room that was his chamber was a bath, steam rising from it. Alice placed drying cloths on the bed. “Milady, the meal will be brought shortly.”
Cairstine smiled at the girl who avoided looking at her husband. “Thank ye, Alice. Please have it brought to the adjoining chamber.”
Moments later, Declan could barely keep his eyes opened. After the hot bath, having eaten his fill, and the hot mead, he was warmed up and without chill.
“Why don’t ye go to bed? I will ensure the fire is fed.” Cairstine took his hand and he stood, seeming to agree.
However, his eyes opened and he looked down at her. “Only if ye join me.”
Time moved slowly as she helped him undress and removed her own clothing. The need was so great, her hands shook with anticipation making it almost impossible to remove her lacings and top.
While she finished undressing, Declan watched from the bed. Fully nude, he was sprawled upon it. His body was an open invitation to be devoured with both eyes and mouth.
She went to the bed and studied him at leisure. She would never grow tired of how handsome he was. When her gaze lingered at the apex of his legs, there was a stirring. His sex moved, hardening at her perusal.
Cairstine licked her lips and looked to Declan.
“Ye can take my staff into yer mouth if ye wish.”
“Aye?” Cairstine climbed onto the bed and kneeled between his legs. She then took him in hand enjoying the feel of the silken skin.
Leaning forward, she looked up to him as sh
e opened her mouth and took the head in and swirling her tongue around it.
Declan bucked upward, thrusting deeper into her mouth. He grunted when she suckled and pulled her hair gently. “Only for a bit, lass. I fear I will spill too soon as this feel so...awwww.”
Growing bolder, she moved up and down, taking him deeper until he finally held her still. “I will have ye now.” He guided her atop him and held her against his chest. “I missed ye, Wife.”
She was sure that he did not miss her as much as she had him. For in his absence, Cairstine became sure she was deeply in love with Declan. The admiration she’d had for him over the years had blossomed into a feeling so strong she could barely consider it without crying. Although she was sure he would not grow to love her as much, it was gratifying to know he did think of her while he was gone.
“I wanted ye to be here with me. Like this,” Cairstine said while pressing kisses to his jaw and neck.
“Mmmm,” his deep murmur when she nibbled at his throat made her aware it was an especially sensitive spot.
With a strong hold, he rolled her over and settled between her legs. His eyes on her, he plunged into her and Cairstine cried out at the wonderful sensations traveling over her.
The drives became hard and fast as the union would not be a long one. Both needed the culmination to come quickly. Since Declan was so exhausted, the need to seek climax pushed him to his limits as his body shook while he continued to plow her sex with his staff.
Finally, he shuddered and, with a hoarse cry, emptied into her. Cairstine held on to his shoulders, digging fingernails into the flesh as she, too, succumbed.
“Am I too heavy?” he whispered, already sounding groggy.
Cairstine kissed his temple and ran her hands down his broad back. She stopped and repeated the action. “We forgot the binding.”
“I don’t need it.” This time, he sounded almost asleep.
“On the morrow, I will check and ensure ye don’t.”
Declan let out a long breath and rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she lay half-atop him. He tipped her chin up.
“I like that ye care about me. That what I feel is not just one-sided.”
“What ye feel?” She studied his face. “What do ye feel?”
Declan frowned as if he were bothered by the idea. “I may be falling in love with ye wife.”
Cairstine giggled at how annoyed the statement sounded. “I am glad to hear it. Please inform me when ye do fall.”
His grunt was the only reply. Then he did the most endearing thing. Declan hugged her close and whispered into her ear, “I cherish ye more than my own life. Is that enough?”
“For now, aye.”
He chuckled and, within moments, was fast asleep.
Cairstine laid her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. They had much to learn about each other and about marriage. However, in her mind, they were off to a good start. The foundation of attraction and caring was set.
With a contented yawn, Cairstine allowed slumber to take her as well.
Excerpt from Beauty and the Highlander
Looking up at her intended's clan's home, Analise McGregor shook so hard her teeth chattered. She pulled her horse to a stop and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The Gordon Keep was immense, the austere, gray walls of the building blending with the eerie mist of the Highland mountains that surrounded it.
The imposing structure loomed over them as they neared and she closed her eyes and prayed. Please let my intended be a kind man. And if there is some way to not have to go through with the marriage at all, let it happen.
The sense of dread refused to leave no matter how much she recited prayers over and over in her head.
God help her, if only there were a way to escape, to live out her life as a common villager. All she desired was a cottage of her own where she'd make a living as a seamstress. Anything was better than losing her freedom. How had it come to this? The unraveling of her life to end in marriage to a stranger far from everything and everyone she'd ever known?
A tear slipped down her cheek, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. She looked to her uncle to ensure he did not notice her weeping. The last thing she wanted was to worry the kind, elderly man.
As if on cue, a heavy drizzle began to fall as they rode up to the thick, daunting gates and Analise pulled her heavy cape tighter around her shoulders.
"Lift that chin child, all will be well." Although intended to be comforting, her uncle's words fell hollow by the drawn brows over his warm eyes. "Once yer married and with a wee one hanging on yer skirts, this day will seem more like dream."
A nightmare would be a more apt description. Not wanting to worry him more, Analise nodded and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile. "Aye, Uncle, may your words come to pass."
His lips curved. "Ye want wee ones do ye not?"
In spite of the dread, she couldn't help but relax just a bit. "True, I do, Uncle. Bairns are God's gifts and bring joy."
The heavy gates groaned open and the small party was allowed into a sizable, well-kept courtyard.
Analise kept her attention on her horse, clutching the reins until they were taken from her hands. Too soon, she was assisted down from her mount and young lads went off with their horses. Analise couldn't help but look after her mild-mannered mare, wishing she'd dashed for freedom when she'd had a chance.
The laird neared and greeted them. Tall and barrel-chested, the male's eyes raked over her, hesitating at her breasts. Analise made sure to keep her chin lifted, her eyes straight ahead. In spite of the shiver of repulsion that crept up her spine, she did not stir. Was his son to be as lecherous?
Whatever the men spoke of did not reach her ears. She was far too busy searching for any possible escape.
"I welcome you both. I am Angus Gordon." Once again, the laird studied her, a cruel twist to his lips as if he found her distasteful.
"My thanks," she replied, only meeting the man's gaze for a second.
If the son was anything like the father, she'd run away. There had to be other exits besides the large gates. She'd take flight before marrying anyone that would mistreat her.
The thumps of her heart echoed with each place her eyes landed. The walls were dense, the guardsman who stood atop the towers huge, and the logs set to secure the gates once closed, immense. The Gordon Keep seemed virtually impenetrable. Not an easy target for enemies to invade or for someone to steal away from.
There was movement past where the laird and her uncle stood talking. A lone man descended the steps. The tartan colors he wore identified him as a Gordon. Long, dark brown, burnished hair fell forward concealing his features, yet his presence had an immediate effect on her. Analise followed the man’s progress as he neared.
Broad shouldered with an expansive well-formed chest that tapered to a trimmer waist and hips, he commanded attention. He moved closer, his gait sure and fluid. At her study of him, breathing came easier and she was able to control her troubling heart rate only to lose it again when the amber eyes lifted and locked to hers. Dark slashes for eyebrows, his mouth tight, the exquisite man studied her. He exuded raw power. With chiseled cheekbones and an aristocratic nose, he seemed more masterpiece than human. If not for the jagged scar that distorted his right cheek and full upper lip, she'd think a more flawless creature did not exist.
"Miss McGregor." His deep voice resonated through her and he lowered his head, barely a bow. "I am Carrick Gordon. Your betrothed."
Read it today: My Book
About the Author
Writing Highlanders who will battle for your heart...
USA Today Bestselling author Hildie McQueen loves unusual situations and getting into interesting adventures, which is what her characters do as well. She writes romance because she is in love with love! Author of Romance in Highland historical, Western Historical and contemporary, she writes something every reader can enjoy.
Hildie's favorite past-times ar
e romance conventions, traveling, shopping and reading.
She resides in beautiful small town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and three doggies.
AuthorHildieMcQueen
www.HildieMcQueen.com
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Copyright
Also by USA Today Bestselling Author Hildie McQueen
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Excerpt from Beauty and the Highlander
About the Author
Declan's Bride: A Highland Romp Page 8