by TC Calligari
Aiden’s mouth plied her with vigor. His hands cupped her bottom as he moved to press her back against the far stone wall. The fall of water landed a few feet away but neither of them took note. They were lost in a world of sensation, each moment seeming to last an eternity, and yet, never quite long enough.
When he finally began to ease himself inside of her it was with a slow pressure that made Skye want to thrust her hips against his. When he came to rest against the tenuous barrier that was her virginity, Skye felt only a moment’s sharp pain before the pleasure of Aiden inside of her returned. His movements were slow, and steady. The patience with which he built her orgasm was saintly. Aiden had Skye veritably begging for mercy before he brought them both to the brink of ecstasy. Skye’s legs tightened around him and she threw her head back and cried out with pleasure. Aiden, who had one hand on the wall beside her head, and the other cupping her hip and guiding her movements, pressed himself so fully against her that Skye thought that she might be crushed into the wall.
They remained in that position for a long while before either was willing to move. When they finally separated, Skye moved tentatively around the pool, testing her sore body. After a few moments she smiled shyly at Aiden, who was watching her with a look of pure happiness across his face.
He glided over to her and held her face in his damp hands.
“I’m completely in love with you, Skye Laramie.” His eyes watched her own happy expression roll over her face.
“And I you, Aiden MacConaill.” She laughed with pure joy against his kiss.
It was nearing midday when they finally returned to the castle. Skye hid her clothing, once again, under the cloak before sneaking through the deserted corridors to her chambers. She wondered where everyone was and, dressing quickly, was determined to make sure that they had not been missed.
As it turned out, Teirnan had in fact been looking for her for a short while. Skye said a word of thanks that it had not been long enough for him to suspect her absence. One of her brother’s men met Skye in the great hall and instructed her to join the others in the courtyard.
When Skye entered the courtyard she was surprised to see a large caravan of travel-ready horses waiting in a line. She stepped tentatively into the sunlight, her brain trying to process the situation at hand. They had not planned to leave for another fortnight, she reminded herself. Perhaps Teirnan was merely sending a supply of goods to the estate ahead of their party to make better time.
She looked up to see Aiden standing beside his brothers, a look a pure anxiety on his face.
Skye lifted her skirts and stepped quickly down the staircase. She adjusted the shawl over her shoulders to mask the pale marks that had been left from the stone wall in the spring. She skin stung as the fabric slid across it.
Though she walked toward her brother, her eyes never left Aiden’s. It was clear that he already had an idea of what was going on in the courtyard.
“Skye…” Teirnan spoke tentatively. “I’m sending you home with the supplies, and you must go without argument.”
Her eyes snapped to her brother’s face; the serious look on it told her that there was no hope of persuading him otherwise. Had she and Aiden been seen? Had her brother found out about their indiscretions? Skye felt bile rise in her throat. Had they been witnessed at the spring?
She could not formulate a response. Instead, Skye stood there in silence, trying to make sense of why she and Aiden would be such a terrible issue. It was a match her father could not complain of in the least.
Teirnan continued, “Father’s made you a match and he requests your presence immediately.”
The news washed over Skye like a tidal wave. If she had been asked later, she would have claimed that the entire earth shook beneath her.
Her eyes brimmed with tears that she refused to let spill. She blinked them back and looked proudly at her brother.
“I won’t go.” She argued.
Teirnan’s arms wrapped around her and from over his shoulder Skye could see Aiden taking deep, measured breaths. Deirdre’s face was turning between the two of them before she eventually clapped her hand over her mouth with a gasp of sadness.
“I’m sorry, Skye.” Her brother tried to soothe her. “You’ve been promised. I thought you’d have more time as well but father has made his decision. Your things are being packed as we speak.”
At that very moment the tanner’s son skipped into the courtyard carrying the wolf pelts from that morning. Skye had nearly forgotten about that debacle until she watched the beautiful furs being laid out before The MacConaill. The lad explained how they were to be gifts to the Laird once they had been properly cured and cleaned. Skye realized that Aiden must have left them with the tanner to cover their involvement in the event.
“Yes. Yes.” The Laird said distractedly, still focusing on Skye’s sudden departure. His mouth was set in a thin line as if he did not like the idea himself. “Have them prepared and wrapped in pairs. It’ll be two for Kenzie’s future wife and two for Aiden’s. Have the spare one made into something nice for Deirdre” The MacConaill had made the statement in an offhand way, clearly valuing the fair distribution considering that Greum’s wife had recently received two of her own. Upon his words, though, Aiden’s jaw dropped in an impeccable representation of pure agony. Deirdre gasped aloud this time, before pulling her visibly shaken brother forcibly out of the courtyard.
Skye watched the young boy exit through the gates toward the village. Two for Aiden’s wife. The words rang in her head like a never-ending chorus. She knew that the Laird had been referring to some distant match, but Skye’s mind was already imagining Aiden with a wife beside him. It was not her.
Skye took a deep breath to collect herself. She walked through the crowd, saying her goodbyes with as much conviction as the situation would allow. She was glad that Deirdre had taken Aiden away. Skye could not imagine saying a farewell to him. With one last look at the castle, one final imagining of what her life might have been like here, she allowed herself to be lifted onto the seat of the cart and driven away toward her demise.
***
On the eve of her wedding, one week later, Skye stood alone in her mother’s chambers. In the morning she was to marry some nameless, faceless man whom her father had chosen. Her father had tried to share information about her groom, but Skye was not interested in listening. She vaguely remembered that he had the largest flock of sheep on MacConaill land. He was probably a hundred years old, she guessed. Well, at least there would be no need for fur pelts with a surplus of wool, she thought with a dejected tone.
Skye sipped the glass of wine in her hand. She stared deeply into the fire and saw… nothing.
It was as if her entire future had ceased to exist. Everything that she had planned and imagined was now swept away into this life that her father had created for her. Skye turned to face her mother’s gown, which hung with prominence on the far wall.
“Is this what you’d want for me?” she asked the empty room. “I don’t think you would.” She whispered.
There was a loud rap on the door and, when Skye did not answer, it opened.
“Oh, Mistress!” the serving maid exclaimed. “Why are you not below for the celebration? The guests have begun to arrive.”
Skye drained her wineglass and stared at the woman out of the corner of her eye.
“If you married my bridegroom, he wouldn’t know the difference.” She spoke in a blunt voice.
“No, maybe not.” The maid laughed. “But he sure does seem excited to be here. Maybe you can put on a similar face?”
Skye revealed a comical grimace as she miserably feigned excitement.
“Well, mayhaps this will cheer you up.” The maid opened the door and two men carried a chest into her chamber. “It’s full of gifts from your groom. They said there was a coverlet in here. I was going to put it on your bridal bed while you were away.”
Skye made a motion for the maid to do as she pleased. The idea
of her wedding night held no appeal after giving herself to Aiden. She wondered if the knowledge that she was not a virgin would bother her future husband. Skye found that she did not care.
She heard the lock of the chest click open and the maid’s gasp as she raised the lid.
“How beautiful!” The woman exclaimed. Skye could not find the desire to turn and look at whatever beautiful gifts lay inside. “Look.” The maid appeared at her side with something large draped over her arm. Skye cast a sideways glance and saw a monstrous wolf pelt stretched out beside her. The glass dropped from her hands and shattered on the floor at her feet.
“Mistress!” the maid exclaimed, moving to clear away the pieces that lay on the floor.
Skye was not paying attention; she had snatched the wolf pelt from her arm and was examining it with care. She rushed over to the chest and saw another, smaller pelt laying among the items.
“That one isn’t as nice,” the maid explained, “it’s a little tattered, but we’ll turn it into something beautiful.
“It’s from bear claws.” Skye spoke as if the torn furs were the most highly prized treasure. “Bear claws do this.”
“Hmph.” The maid grunted. “Well it’s a shame you won’t be hunting anymore because…”
But Skye never heard the rest of that sentence because she was already rushing out the door and down the staircase, the tattered scrap of fur clutched to her chest as her hopes soared through the ceiling.
When she skidded to a halt in the dining hall, she knew that she looked as frazzled as she felt. She was panting and staring through the crowd as she scanned face after face in hope that she might see Aiden amongst them.
“It’s about time that you joined us.” Her father stepped forward with an enormous grin on his face. “It’s time that you meet your groom.” His hand gestured behind him to where an elderly man at least three times her age stood with a goofy grin on his face. Skye’s hopes plummeted. She had been wrong to believe that these were Aiden’s furs. Wolf fur was a common gift for a wedding.
Her father turned to follow the line of his hand and his face broke into a poorly concealed look of false apology.
“My mistake,” he laughed. “Your husband is there.” Her father pointed over Skye’s shoulder into the hallway behind her, where Aiden stood with a guilty grin on his face.
Skye launched herself into his arms, eliciting cheers from the gathered crowd. As Aiden spun her in a circle she began to see the rest of his family slipping quietly into the room. When he set her down on her feet it felt as if the world still spun.
“Father, what happened?” she turned to ask the question but refused to release her grip around Aiden’s waist.
“Well, lass.” He laughed. “When The MacConaill tells you that your daughter is going to marry his son, it isn’t wise to argue, previous arrangements or no.” Aiden’s father chuckled from the other side of the room.
“I might have also agreed to increase our wool purchases this spring.” He turned and pointed at Greum and Catríona and then Aiden and Skye. “So, I need some bairns to clothe, do you hear?”
Cat nodded and gave a revealing wink to her husband. Skye squeeze Aiden even harder.
“So,” Aiden grasped Skye’s shoulders and looked into her eyes, “do you agree to marry me tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Skye faked an angry look at her father. “I have to wait until tomorrow?”
And with laughter all around, the two families gathered together to celebrate the morrow’s nuptials and a match that could not have been better suited.
THE END
Carnal Reconciliation
Deirdre MacConaill’s brothers are marrying faster than her father can keep up with, but that doesn't mean that his only daughter is ready to take the leap.
Deirdre nurses the aching wound of a long ago love that went terribly wrong several summers past. When her father informs her that she is to be married to the very man who broke her heart—and took her virginity with it—all of Deirdre’s worst fears are about to come true.
In the Scottish Highlands arranged marriages are not uncommon, but with Deirdre’s position as only daughter to the Laird of Clan MacConaill, there are few choices that suit her rank. Teirnan Laramie, Bonnet Laird and banner man to her father, is taking his position as Laird of the Laramie Estate and he needs a wife. And when the MacConaill makes a decision, you follow it.
So it comes to pass that the pair must be married, much to their joint dismay. Can Deirdre and Teirnan move forward, despite their traumatic past? Or, are they destined to fight their passion forever, never knowing the truth that tore them apart?
Carnal Reconciliation
Deirdre MacConaill cradled her sleeping nephew in her arms. His tiny hand rose to rub a rosy cheek and he released a wide-mouthed yawn.
“He’ll make a fine Laird, Cat.” She informed the woman sitting beside her. Lady Catríona had married Deirdre’s twin brother, Greum. Together, they were rapidly expanding their small family. The infant in Deirdre’s arms rolled toward his mother. His hand came to rest absentmindedly on Cat’s protruding stomach where a pair of siblings had begun to expand her body in recent months.
There was a quiet knock on the sitting room door and Deirdre’s twin entered with the telltale grin of a proud father. Before his wife could hoist herself from her seated position, Greum rushed over and joined her on the plush bench.
“How was the journey?” Cat ran her hands over her husband as if searching for hidden wounds. “Did they agree to the treaty?”
“Of course not.” Greum laughed and pulled his wife’s hands into his own, kissing her fingers lightly. “Clan McKinnon has no wish for peace while we control the best lands.” Cat sighed. “Do not worry, wife. We’ll have at least a summer of quiet while they consider a reply.”
Deirdre rubbed her nose against the face of the sleeping child, trying not to impose on the happy reunion of the young couple.
“Deir,” Greum turned to his sister with a serious expression. “Father would like to speak with you in the study. He asked that you join him immediately.”
With a sinking feeling in her stomach Deirdre deposited the bairn in her brother’s arms and hurried from the room. The Laird rarely requested formal meetings with his children. He was inclined to sharing news and discussions across the raucous long table of the dining hall, or during slow walks through the gardens. His study was reserved for serious business with his bonnet lairds or banner men.
When she arrived outside of the aforementioned room, the door stood slightly ajar. Deirdre slipped into the darkened room in silence, allowing the door to click shut behind her. Her father stood facing out the many-paned window, his hands clasped behind his back. The contemplative pose did nothing to ease the turmoil in Deirdre’s heart.
She waited for her father to turn, but he did not. With tentative steps Deirdre approached the window at the far end of the room. She came to pause shoulder to shoulder with her father, following his gaze through the window out into the bustling courtyard below. There they stood in silence until he finally spoke.
“Skye and Aiden are returning to the Laramie Estate on the morrow.” Deirdre did not understand what the journey of her younger brother and his new wife to Skye’s family home had to do with her. “The bonnet laird has been ill and we just received word that he succumbed to the sickness not two nights passed. I would like you to join them on the journey and express our sympathies at the funeral.”
“I don’t mean to be impertinent, father,” Deirdre’s brow furrowed in confusion, “but, I’m not sure that I understand why Aiden and Skye would not be sufficient to express our condolences.” While she grieved for her new sister, and the clansmen that would be affected by the loss of their landowner, Deirdre had only the most basic of aquaintances with the man who had pledged fealty to her father. His wife, that predeceased him, had been more likely to interact with the children during the long-ago summers in which the families would visit.
&nb
sp; “Teirnan will be taking the oath to fulfill his inheritance.” Her father still had not turned to face her, an unusual occurrence for the naturally affectionate man.
Deirdre still did not understand. “Aiden can witness the pledge. Teirnan is his brother by marriage.” Never before had she been sent to witness a fealty pledge. This had always been a task for one of the Laird’s sons.
Finally, her father turned to face her. There was apprehension in his eyes that did little to ease Deirdre’s confusion.
“Teirnan is unmarried, as you know, and a bonnet laird does not do well without a wife and heir.” Deirdre’s eyes opened wide as she heard her father’s words. She could not bring herself to speak, and so he continued. “I know that you and the lad have little liking between you but, what with Skye joining us here at the castle, the Laramie lands will be needing a feminine touch once again.”
Her heart beat in her chest with aching thuds and Deirdre shook her head in open-mouthed silence.
Her father, her Laird, placed his hands upon her shoulders and drew her into his embrace. He rested his chin against her dark hair, as he had all her life, and yet this time the act did not comfort her.
“My sweet child, it is long past time that you marry. Of all the eligible men that would befit your station Teirnan is the only one that isn’t as old as your father or young as your nephew. You might not care for him now, but in time that may change.”
She felt the warm trail of the tear that slid down her cheek.
“Father, please.” The quivering words were the most that Deirdre could draw past the lump that had risen in her throat.
“I was under the impression that there are many a lass who would like nothing more than to be the lad’s bride. May I ask why it is that you dislike him so?” His hand smoothed her long braid against her back.