Highland Lover

by Hannah Howell

  Even though Gregor knew he had already had far too much ale to drink, he lifted his tankard to his lips and had another long draught. He had begun to drink from the moment Artan and Lucas had left him reeling from the news of all Alana was bringing to the marriage, and it was not helping him to overcome that shock. In truth, it was making him feel morose, and he hated morose drunks.

  When he lowered his tankard, Gregor found himself staring at Alana’s breasts. They were covered with a very fine linen, so fine he could see her nipples. He really liked Alana’s breasts, he thought and sighed. He blinked and suddenly a thick blanket was pulled over that intoxicating view. Slowly Gregor looked up from Alana’s chest and found himself staring into her golden brown eyes. She was glaring at him. Now, he thought, he would face all the anger she had kept hidden, anger over the fact that her brothers had forced her to marry a peasant.

  “Mayhap ye can explain to me why ye are sitting here, all alone and swilling ale on our wedding night.”

  The cold, precise tone in her voice made him wince. “There cannae be a wedding night.”

  Alana wondered just how much he had drunk. Considering how long it had been since he had left the great hall with her brothers, Gregor could have swallowed a prodigious amount of ale by now. “Oh, I see,” she said, unable to hide her keen disappointment. “I have heard that too much drink can soften—”

  “Soften?” Gregor grabbed her hand and placed it upon the erection he had not been able to fully shake free of since the kiss they had shared in the garden. “Nay, I am not soft. I could never drink enough ale to suffer like that.”

  She ignored that boast. “Then why do ye say there can be no wedding night?”

  “Because ye are too fine a bride for a mon like me. Your brothers had a wee talk with me about your dowry, as is right and proper. What they told me near knocked me down. Why didnae ye tell me ye are as rich as a prince?”

  Her eyes widened at the note of accusation in his voice. “I didnae tell ye because there was ne’er any indication that ye might be interested. In me as a wife, I mean. When the mon is courting a lass and hinting at a marriage is usually the time the talk of a dowry takes place.”

  That was true, but he liked the idea of feeling the injured party more than he did just sitting there feeling sorry for himself. “Ye should have told me. ’Twas a bit of a shock, ye ken. If I had learned about it earlier, we ne’er would have been married. Now, weel, we shall just have to leave it unconsummated until I can think of a way to cut ye loose. Ye deserve a better mon than me, a mon with naught but a few fine clothes and a good horse and a family that isnae the most respected in the land. Wheesht, most people think my father is a madmon. E’en we did until but a while ago.” He shook his head and felt a little dizzy. “Nay, I cannae think what rattles in your brothers’ heads that they would think me a fit husband for ye.”

  Setting down his tankard, he stood up very carefully and went over to the washbowl to douse his head with the cold water there. He had suddenly realized that he was far too drunk to have this conversation. Since this was his wedding night, he could not tell her to go away and that they would talk about it all on the morrow when his head was clear. Alana was owed an explanation for why she was alone in the bedchamber that had been chosen for them.

  His body did not even soften when he let the cold water run down inside his shirt. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone tonight, or any night ever again. She obviously wore a night rail designed to seduce a man, and smelled sweetly of roses and clean skin. He ached to taste that soft skin again. Instead of easing, his desire for her grew even fiercer and he cursed as he grabbed a soft drying cloth and scrubbed his face dry. He did not feel dazed by drink any longer, but by need.

  Wrong though it was, he would have to tell her to leave and that they would talk in the morning. If she did not move out of his reach soon, he would weaken and take her into his arms. There would be no turning back then, no doing the honorable thing and setting her free so that she could find herself a husband to make her proud. He tossed aside the cloth, looked at her, and frowned. She had her arms crossed over her chest and he could see one bare little foot tapping on the floor. Even worse, she was wearing an expression that was part amusement and part that look that women gave men when they thought they were behaving like complete idiots.

  “Gregor, I do not believe, in this situation, leaving the marriage unconsummated will make any difference at all.”

  Her tone was that patient, sweet one some women used when trying to explain something to a small child, and it set his teeth on edge. “A marriage can be set aside if it isnae consummated, although I shall have to find out exactly how one does that.”

  “Did ye forget that I am nay longer a virgin? That I am, in fact, carrying your child?”

  For a moment he just stared at her as the last of the ale fumes cleared from his head. He was an idiot. He had forgotten those very important things for a little while. Shock had pushed everything from his mind except for the fact that she was too rich a bride for a man like him. Too much ale had assured that his wits had stayed scattered. Gregor wondered if he could bluff his way out of this embarrassment. He prayed she was not one of those women who insisted a man openly admit that he was being a complete fool.

  “Lass,” he began, struggling to find the right words, “ye dinnae need a mon like me e’en if I was your lover and ye carry my child. With a dowry like yours, ye could still have any mon ye wanted, and I think ye ken it. Why, if your father e’en hinted at what would come with ye as a dowry, the men would be lining up at the gates e’en if ye had a dozen fatherless children clinging to your skirts.” The mere thought of never seeing the child they had created, of having some other man raise that child, cut him to the bone, but he still felt he was doing what was best for her.

  Alana studied him for a moment. There was a look of misery in his face, and so she discarded the painful thought that he was just trying to be rid of her. He really thought that she was now too good for him because of the size of her dowry. It was time, she thought, to stop guarding her heart, to stop holding fast to all the words she had wanted to say to him for weeks. He would not accept logic in this, so she would have to sway him with feelings.

  “But my child willnae be fatherless, will he? He has a father, a verra fine mon who makes his mother’s blood heat with a smile.”

  He felt his manhood twitch. The thing was leaning out toward her like some hound on a scent. A simple, if very flattering compliment, and he was acting like a heedless boy facing his first lover. A flicker of laughter passed over her face and he scowled at her, almost daring her to say something. And it was not just a smile he wanted to use to make her blood heat, he thought, and inwardly groaned.

  “Did ye not woo Mavis for her dowry?” she asked. “Ye said ye sought her out because ye had heard of it. Why would ye think it acceptable to go after hers and yet shy away from taking mine?”

  “Because next to yours, hers is a pittance, but a pittance that was good enough to live on and was suitable for a mon like me.”

  “Gregor, do ye think my sister brought naught to her marriage to Liam? Aye, she handed o’er to me a goodly part of her dowry because Ardgleann would be hers and ’tis a rich place. Do ye fault Liam for accepting it?”

  A logical woman could be a curse, he mused. He had not only let shock and then ale scatter his wits; he had lost them completely. There really was no way he could make all he had been thinking sound sensible, probably not even sane. Gregor suspected he was going to have to admit that he had been, for a little while and under the influence of strong drink, a complete idiot, and he hoped he could find the right words to soften the blow to his pride, at least in her eyes.

  “I was in shock,” he admitted. “Deeply in shock. All I could see was that ye were a verra rich woman, one who would never had been within my reach except that fate put ye in the same oubliette as I was. I thought the whole world would think that all I married ye for
was that massive dowry, and I couldnae stomach that.”

  “Ah, pride.” She stepped closer to him and slowly put her arms around his neck.

  “Aye, I was worried about my own wee monly pride, but I also didnae want the world and its mother to think that that was the only reason I had married ye, that that was the only way ye could get a husband.”

  His ability to think clearly began to slip away fast as she brushed soft, quick kisses over his face and neck. His whole body shook with need for her. And, he thought, since the marriage really could not be annulled, why was he hesitating?

  “’Tis most kind of ye to be so concerned with my pride that ye would set me aside e’en though ye want me.” She began to unlace his shirt. “And ye do want me, dinnae ye, Gregor?”

  Grasping her by the hips, he pressed her close to his throbbing erection. “How can ye e’en need to ask, love? Aye, I need ye like a fish needs the water to live. I need ye to face each morning with hope and an eagerness to keep on living.” He slid his hand over her still-flat belly. “I need ye to give me bonnie wee lasses with thick hair and golden brown eyes. Aye, I need ye, and ’tis sorry I am that I e’er left ye in doubt of that.”

  Alana was so moved by his words that she could only stare at him, the sting of tears in her eyes. This was the most he had said about his feelings since they had met, and she was shaken by the fierce tone of truth behind each word. He had not said he loved her, but now that lack did not sting as much. When a man could speak so to a woman, surely he was in love or very near to it.

  “I think we shall forget my plan to annul the marriage,” he growled and picked her up in his arms.

  “What about our verra fine marriage bed?” she asked as she curled her arms around his neck to steady herself as he carried her to the bed.

  “We can move to it later.”

  Alana opened her eyes and blinked, uncertain of where she was. Then she felt Gregor move and heard Charlemagne jump off the bed and smiled. Now she remembered. After making love in his bedchamber, they had hurried down the hall to the bridal chamber to make love again. Wild, greedy, frenzied love, she thought with a smile as she felt Gregor kiss the back of her neck.

  “I have been waiting for ye to wake up,” he murmured as he gently nudged her onto her back.

  Gregor brushed a kiss over her lips and slid his hand down to her belly. He was eager to feel the child they had made move inside her. He loved his two sons and would never think of them as somehow less than this child, but the fact that he had created this one with the woman he loved and not just because he had been careless did make it all different in some strange, unfathomable way. Instinct told him that he did not need to worry that Alana would ignore his bastard sons for her own child, either. He lightly kissed her belly.

  “Are ye feeling weel?” he asked. “I ken that we behaved a wee bit, er, wildly and I shouldnae want to hurt ye or our bairn.”

  “Nay, ye cannae hurt the bairn that way,” she murmured as she ran her hands over his back. “I dinnae ken much about this save for some very simple goods and bads and how to birth it, but all we lasses are told that lovemaking cannae hurt the bairn.”

  “That is a relief, for I intend to do a lot of it.”

  She sighed her pleasure as he kissed his way to her breasts. Threading her fingers in his thick hair, she held him close as he kissed and suckled her. She badly wished to speak more about their future and their feelings for each other, but she was a coward. However, she had the strongest feeling that, if she did not push just a little now, the chance would be gone, that Gregor would settle in and think all was well. If that happened, she could face months, even years without knowing what he truly felt for her.

  “I have missed ye in my bed, my sweet treasure,” he said against her stomach as he slipped his fingers between her thighs to tease her passion to a greater height. “I had feared that, in my idiocy, I had lost ye, had killed all we had shared just when I had realized how much it meant to me.”

  Wondering a little wildly if he had read her thoughts in some way and had decided to take the first step, Alana tensed. Even though she desperately wanted to hear all he had to say, the desire he was stirring within her was starting to make it hard to concentrate. She would not be surprised if that was his intention, but she refused to let him hide from her as he told her all the things she had needed to hear for so long.

  “Ye cannae lose me, Gregor,” she said softly and felt him tremble faintly beneath her hand. “Ye can ne’er lose me, didnae ye ken that?”

  “I had hoped. And why is it that I can ne’er lose ye?” he asked as he brushed kisses over the soft inside of her slim thighs.

  Alana knew she was being played with, pushed in the direction he wanted her to go, but she did not care. The feel of his soft hair brushing against her womanhood was driving her mad. She blushed to admit it even to herself, but she ached to feel his kiss there and she suspected he knew it. He was silently telling her that if she bared her soul to him, he would reward her with pleasure. Tightly gripping his broad shoulders, she decided that one of them had to go first to cure the cowardice of the other, and it might as well be her.

  “Ye cannae lose me, Gregor, because I am yours in body, in mind, in heart, and in soul. I love ye with all that I am and all I will become,” she whispered.

  Gregor groaned and kissed her just where she so desperately wanted him to, ravishing her with his mouth until she was nearly screaming at him to come inside her. He joined their bodies with one hard, fast thrust and then held himself still as he looked down at her. Her pretty face was flushed with passion and her eyes were black with it. He did not think he had ever seen a finer sight.

  “Say it again, my love,” he said softly.

  “I love ye,” she said and gasped when he pulled out almost completely and then thrust back inside her.

  They played that game for several minutes until Alana thought she would go mad or beat him. Then as she told him that she loved him yet again, his control broke and she almost cheered. Before she could ask him if he felt the same, however, passion stole her wits as he drove them both to the very heights of desire and sent them tumbling back down together.

  It was several minutes after Gregor had collapsed in her arms that Alana began to recover her wits again. Although she was pleased that Gregor found her declaration of love so exciting and was driven to hear her say it again and again, she felt a little irritated as well. He must love her if he was so hungry to hear her say the words to him, yet he had not given her that same comfort. That seemed grossly unfair to her. She prayed Gregor was not one of those men who demanded his wife love him, but did not see that it was equally important to the happiness of their union that he love her, too.

  “Ye have gone verra tense, love,” he said as he lifted his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth.

  “I was but wondering about why it was so important that ye hear how I feel about ye,” she asked, trying not to sound as upset as she was beginning to feel.

  Closing his eyes, Gregor nuzzled his nose into the soft place where her neck met her shoulder and somewhat absently said, “Why, I should think that was clear to see. Of course I wish to ken that I am nay the only one who loves. I just wished to be assured that my love was returned.” When she grew even tenser, he warily ceased what he was doing and looked at her again. “What is wrong? Are ye crying?” he asked with a touch of panic even as he saw the tears trickle down her cheeks.

  “Nay,” she snapped as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with a corner of the sheet. “Ye love me?”

  “Aye, of course I do.”

  “How could I ken that when ye have ne’er said so!”

  “I am sure I did and just a few hours ago, when I was ravishing ye to make sure our marriage was undisputedly consummated. Twice.” He smiled in remembered satisfaction.

  Alana frowned as she tried to recall those frenzied times of lovemaking when they were both so starved for each other they had gone a little mad. She could fai
ntly recall Gregor pressing his face into the side of her neck as he thrust inside of her and feeling his mouth move against her skin. That was when he had told her he loved her? And she had missed it. Just as he had thought she would, the coward, she decided and hit him on the arm.

  Gregor eyed her warily as he rubbed his abused arm. “I see ye remember.”

  “I recall ye muttering into the side of my neck. I also recall verra clearly that ye demanded I say it loud and clear several times.”

  “Ah, I see. Ye want me to say it loud and clear.”

  She frowned when she saw the hint of a blush on his cheeks and then had to bite back a smile. “It doesnae hurt,” she said quietly.

  “I wouldnae ken, as ye are the only woman I have e’er said it to,” he grumbled, eyeing that soft curve of her neck covetously only to see her put her hand over the place.

  “Dinnae ye wish to love me?”

  “Aye, love, as I cannae think of any woman I could trust more, but it isnae easy for a mon.” He sighed and gently pressed his forehead against hers. “I love ye.” His eyes widened when he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes again. “Dinnae ye start crying again.”

  Alana laughed softly and hugged him. “Tears of happiness, Gregor. Naught to worry about. When did ye ken ye loved me?”

  “When ye fell off that cliff.” He smiled when she laughed again and he decided it was not so very painful to speak of such things while holding each other close. “When did ye ken it?”

  “Oh, probably when I decided I would take ye as my lover,” she drawled and giggled when he lightly pinched her side. “I just needed to ken that ye loved me, Gregor. I willnae ask ye to say it thrice a day or the like, although I certainly wouldnae mind. Nay, I ken it now and it has made some lingering fears within me just fade away like the morning mists. It gives me strength. Aye, and a welcome confidence that we can have a verra good marriage.”

  “We will, love. A verra good marriage indeed.”