by Madelyn Hill
“‘Twill be lovely,” she now said a bit wistfully. Mayhap she’d share some recipes with the cook, a bit of memory in honor of her mother and a way to bring new traditions to the keep. And ‘twould be lovely to secure candles on the tree branches and make sure holly berries were sprinkled among the pine.
Malcolm stepped closer, a glint of humor in his gaze and his broad mouth spread into a wide grin. “I promised a merry Christmastime.”
His smile was infectious and she found herself grinning. Rossalyn didn’t think she’d been so happy in her entire life. Aye, there were moments, but the harsh reality of living in Gordon Keep was a frequent reminder of a joyless life.
Malcolm touched the small of her back and guided her toward the table on the dais. A large chair with ornate carvings was flanked by smaller ones, but clearly no less important.
“Good afternoon,” Malcolm called out. The clansmen stilled and turned to face him. Even the serving lasses stopped their toil.
He cast a glance at her before he returned his attention to the interested crowd. More people entered the hall, most likely out of curiosity.
“Clan Sutherland, I present my wife, Lady Rossalyn Gordon, and her daughter, Lady Mairi.”
The clan cheered.
“Such a lovely bride, m’laird,” a man called.
“Aye,” others chorused.
She blushed and cast her gaze to the ground. Men stepped up to slap her husband on the back, bid her welcome, and pat Mairi on the top of her head.
“I ken my journey was to ensure an alliance for food, but when I saw this beautiful woman, I kenned she would be the perfect lady of the keep,” Malcolm yelled as he grasped her hand and lifted their arms skyward. “Clan Gordon will provide the goods we need to survive in such an unforgiving terrain. And we will patrol the borders and support Laird Gordon when the need arises.”
Cam stepped toward her and bowed. “I pledge my loyalty to our new, and may I say lovely, lady of the keep.”
She laughed and Mairi giggled.
“You’ll do well to keep your lecherous gaze from my wife,” Malcolm warned good-heartedly.
Cam winked. “I’d give him a run for you.”
Everything was in place and it pleased him immensely. He had a beautiful woman by his side, a secure agreement with a neighboring clan, and a sweet lass who had captured his heart in less than a day. He’d deal with Gordon, but for now, he wanted his people to feel secure and ready for Christmas.
Many of the clan welcomed Rossalyn and she seemed to respond to them with grace. He’d worried over her ability to care for the clan as a lady would, as his mother had before her death. His time at Gordon Keep didn’t bode well. Her father had obviously not allowed her any say in the running of the keep. Mayhap the time before her mother’s death had given her the experience she’d need to aid him in the running of his clan.
Yet the fact she’d deceived him continued to fester in the back of his mind. While he kenned her reasons, it still mattered she chose to lie to him.
But he’d made a promise and his word was his soul, his pledge never broken. Their vows were spoken before God. Which meant he’d never forsake his vows.
Seeing her there, before his clan, speaking sweetly to each and every member, eased his mind. The way she tipped her head, to better hear Auld William, made him thankful.
And when her glorious, ebony hair slipped over her shoulder and shifted like a veil of silk, she was incredibly desirable. His gaze traveled over her body, the plump swell of her breasts, the trim waist, the flare of her hips. So womanly, he longed to run his hands over her bare skin and see her writhing with pleasure beneath him.
His cods swelled with such need, he almost swept her into his arms and carried her to the laird’s chamber.
She glanced at him, those sapphire eyes holding questions, perhaps concern. He swallowed, knowing his intense gaze was the cause of much of the worry. He inclined his head toward her, trying to show his support.
Malcolm moved to her side as she spoke with the last clansmen.
He pulled her closer, set his hand to her lower back. With each breath she took, his blood surged like a fire through his veins.
Lavender and roses. She must have bathed and used the soap the clanswomen made. In the past he didn’t ken why they bothered, but now, as the sweet scent filled him, enticed him, he was more than pleased they did.
“On Christmas Eve, the hall will be filled with even more clansmen and the music will last well until the next morn.” He glanced around the hall. “‘Twill be a merry time for all.”
“I can imagine how beautiful the hall will be.” A wistful sigh slipped from her. “Just a fortnight ‘til Christmas.”
“When I was a lad, neighboring clans would arrive a month early.” He shook his head, the memories fresh and vivid before him. “You wouldn’t believe the hunting, the games and food. Mounds and mounds of food that nearly buckled the trestle tables.”
Until squabbling happened and the clans began to fight as their need for fertile land increased. He thought about the lush landscape surround Gordon Keep. At least they’d have the provisions they needed. He’d secured them, when his father could not. The truth of it, his father had refused to seek Gordon. After meeting the man, Malcolm did not blame his sire. But circumstances had become precarious and as laird he had to take care of his people.
Some of the clansmen broke into song. Rossalyn laughed, a twinkling sound that filled him with something . . . something wonderful and needed.
“To Laird Sutherland and his lady,” Auld William yelled. He held up his tumbler of ale in salute.
Several clansmen followed suit, then slowly every person in the great hall cheered. All except Fiona. She hovered toward the rear of the hall, ire clearly apparent in her gaze. He’d have to speak to her, somehow explain the choice he’d made. But ‘twould wait. For now, he only wanted to make Rossalyn feel welcome and help her become the true lady of the clan.
And, become his wife in all senses of the word. Just being near her set his blood aflame as she smiled and chatted with the people, so unassuming of her beauty and grace. Didn’t she know how desirable she was?
The cook bustled forward. Aye, Aggie had a way about her. The robust woman brooked no nonsense in her kitchen, but made sublime meals.
“M’lady, I’d like a word with ye about the evening meal.”
Rossalyn looked surprised. Surely, she’d ensured meals were acceptable at Gordon Keep? But as he thought upon it, mayhap she hadn’t, or else their wedding meal would have been palatable.
“I’m certain what you prepare will be more than exceptional,” she replied softly. She set her hand on the cook’s shoulder and leaned down. “Shall we speak on the morrow? I have some recipes from my mother I’d like to share for Christmas.”
Aggie grinned. “Och, m’lady, to be sure! ‘Tis glad I am we’ll have a lady of the keep for the season.”
All progressed smoothly. He was proud of his clan. They talked and raised their tumblers with much jocularity.
‘Twas heartening, and Cook’s response to Rossalyn spoke volumes—they would accept her.
He kenned it.
“I need to meet with my men.” He loathed leaving her side, and for a moment it worried him. Would she distract him from leading his clan? But when she gazed at him, with a twinkle in her gaze and the hint of humor tilting her mouth, he forgot about his concerns.
She nodded. “Mairi should rest.” Rossalyn gathered her daughter and strolled from the hall, her womanly hips swaying from side to side to side.
Swallowing, trying to wet his parched mouth, Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck. He knew the risks of their union, knew them keenly. But when a clan needed food the unforgiving terrain wouldn’t produce, he had to come up with another solution. Which he ha
d . . .
Marriage to Lady Rossalyn Gordon.
He regarded those still celebrating in the main hall. There he spotted comfort, ease, and clearly, trust. They were pleased with his choice of bride. But did they truly comprehend the consequences? Did they realize he’d exchanged warriors for food? He traded his need of honesty for a woman who’d lied to him from the first moment he’d met her. He’d compromised his morals for a comely face with a soft and welcoming body.
Deep down, he kenned he wouldn’t turn her away. For he had a heart and the idea of sending Mairi back to Laird Gordon chilled him to the bone. He clenched his fists at the idea of a beautiful woman like Rossalyn trapped in a keep filled with dishonor and filth.
Instead, he envisioned them together as laird and lady, a tangle of legs and arms as they made passionate love in his large bed.
Blood rushed to his groin and his cock reacted.
He’d need release soon and the only answer he saw was wooing his wife.
Later, the trestle tables were pushed to the sides of the hall. Though ‘twas only early afternoon, music began to seep through the great room. Someone ushered Rossalyn back into the main hall, accompanied by wee Mairi, fresh from her nap.
Auld William bowed before Rossalyn and held out his hand.
She smiled and allowed the man to lead her to the center of the hall. People cleared the way and clapped to encourage the couple.
Malcolm scooped up Mairi and eased into the movements of the strathspey dance as he carried her aloft. The lass laughed and clapped her hands. Aye, ‘twas a sweet bairn.
After a few moments, he held Mairi toward Cam and strode to claim his wife. She readily accepted his hand and they made their way through the dance with the clan clapping and cheering.
All was content in his world.
Chapter 9
Rossalyn tucked Mairi into bed and sighed. It had been a hectic day filled with activity, noise, and people. She wasn’t used to the activity or conversations and her head ached. Och, she shouldn’t complain. ‘Twas wonderful how the clan welcomed them. With the delay in their introduction and the tension between her and Malcolm, Rossalyn had worried the clan wouldn’t be receptive.
She slipped out of the overskirt, then removed her chemise. A maid had left a bowl of water and a linen cloth. Slowly she dipped the cloth in the scented water and washed her face, down her neck, along her shoulder. She moved to dip the cloth once again and startled.
Her husband stood at the threshold.
“M’laird.” Rossalyn covered her breasts with her arms. Her heart beat against her chest and her breath caught deep in her throat.
At his hooded gaze, the clench in his jaw, dear God Almighty, her insides melted and her knees nearly buckled. Must he look at her that way? As if he wanted to devour her in one bite?
Please, she wished, come to me.
As if she’d spoken the words aloud, Malcolm paced toward her, curled his hand along the back of her neck and delved. Oh, how he delved into her mouth, swift and possessive. His broad mouth commanded hers into compliance, coaxing her lips open.
The heat from his body seeped into hers as her exposed breasts pushed against his chest. He cupped her bare bottom with large, hot hands.
Such need filled her, a demand to be sated. She’d been alone for so long. Without comfort or the touch of a good man.
She pulled at his shirt, tore at his tartan.
He pushed her hands aside. “Easy, my wife.” Malcolm swept her into his arms and carried her across the room. Kicked open the door. Both of them glanced at Mairi, who remained fast asleep.
He brought her to his bed, a huge, intimidating expanse of wood and fur. After he gently laid her upon its surface, he closed the door.
Rossalyn lay naked, but not afraid. And when he came to her side and his gaze moved slowly from her head to her toes, she wanted to clutch at him and pull him atop her.
“M’laird?”
“Aye,” he rasped, as if it took all of his strength to do so.
“Are you going to join me?”
Within a thrice his tartan was on the floor and his needy manhood was ready for her. She marveled at the muscular, hard planes of the man.
This was her husband and she couldn’t stop smiling.
He lay next to her, stroking her face with the back of his hand. “Are you certain?”
“I’ve never been more certain.” She tangled her fingers through his long hair and pulled his mouth to hers—drank him in as she touched him, explored his body, loving the intake of his breath when she gripped the length of him.
He lapped along her jaw, nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear, all the while whispering so softly she could barely comprehend what he was saying. Yet, she kenned he wanted her.
Malcolm lifted over her, settled between her legs. Aye, she wanted him, too. She arched toward him, swollen with need, and hissed when his manhood touched her.
“Aye, Rossalyn, aye.” He entered her and while she was no maiden, it had been a while. She was tight, but ready.
Slowly he eased in and out, deliberate movements that left her panting. She bucked at each thrust; gripped the sheets, then dug her nails into the hot flesh along his back. Release seemed close, yet she kept it at bay to savor their connection. Aye, she wanted it to last forever.
Malcolm suckled her breasts and she moaned with pleasure.
“It pleases you?” he murmured against her skin as he glanced up at her. His beguiling grin and the hot passion of his gaze had her nodding.
He continued the gentle assault until she was at the tip of a precipice. She hung on, clinging to the pleasure—aye, the pleasure of his touch, the feeling of his manhood within her. She never wanted it to end, even as she longed for the crash of release.
“Look at me,” he demanded gruffly.
She complied.
How his eyes flamed with desire as he gazed at her.
He plunged as she rose up to meet him. He shouted his release and she joined him as pleasure shattered over her, rushed through her blood, settled like an explosion within her womb.
They panted together as he collapsed beside her. He pulled her close and she curled next to him as if she’d belonged to him forever and it wasn’t the first time they’d joined. Ah, he smelled wonderful, manly, sweaty.
He kissed the top of her head, inhaled; kissed her again.
What the hell had just happened?
He squeezed Rossalyn, partly to feel her against him and partly to see if she was real and not one of the wee faeries sent to bewitch him. Her soft skin slid against his and he found himself ready to take her again.
Yet Malcolm waited, not wanting to appear as a rutting arse on their first eve together.
Her breath fluttered on his neck, moist, hot. Her hair tickled along his shoulder, reminding him of lavender and roses. ‘Twas her breasts that distracted him the most—full, rosy tipped, and pressed against his side as a declaration of her femaleness.
He set his cheek against her tousled hair. Now there was no turning back. The marriage consummated, they were bound by their vows and the joining of their bodies.
Rossalyn yawned, then chuckled. “Are you asleep?”
“Nay.” He smoothed his hand along her shoulder.
“I . . . I . . . ‘twas wonderful.” She glanced up at him, her eyes wide, shining with desire—and something akin to—admiration?
Words caught in his throat, then he was finally able to speak. “Aye.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her.
Drawing back, he cupped her chin. “Rossalyn.”
“Aye?”
He shook his head and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Go to sleep. We have a busy day on the morrow.”
She nodded and snuggled in next to him.
The morning came early. Malcolm snuck a look at Rossalyn, sleeping beside him, and grinned. Her hair, mussed around her face and tangled along her arms, barely covered her breasts. Tempted as he was to ravish her, he rose and began readying for the day. She needed to rest and since their journey, she’d had little opportunity to do so.
His gaze frequently sought her slumbering form. Curled within the linens, Rossalyn slept in his bed as if she had done so every night. The gentle curve of her hips eased into lean legs and delectable toes.
He wanted to suckle them, one by one, until she writhed beneath his attentions.
Damn. His cock hardened. He sent a baleful look in her direction before leaving his chamber to seek out Mairi.
“M’laird,” she cried when he opened the door. “Where is Mother?”
He winked and brought his finger to his lips to silence her. “She is sleeping.”
Her tiny brow furrowed. “Where?”
Och, out of the mouth of babes. “In my chamber.” He’d let Rossalyn explain. “Let us break our fast.”
She jumped up and quickly followed him out of the chamber toward the main hall. As they descended the stairs, Cam arrived.
“I see you have a new friend,” Cam said as he fell in step next to him. “Such a bonnie lass.”
“I’m Mairi.”
“Aye, Mairi. ‘Tis a grand pleasure to see you.” Cam bowed and Mairi clapped her hands in delight. “‘Tis said your new family will stay,” he said quietly to Malcolm.
Pausing at the hearth, Malcolm settled Mairi in a chair near its warmth, then planted his fists on his hips and regarded the man before him. Cam could be trusted, to be sure.
A few clansmen stilled and hovered by them. There were curious whispers and the blatant stares which told him they weren’t certain about his decisions. And now his man, his Sargent-at-Arms, posed questions.