Highland Wedding

by Hannah Howell

  “Aye, I have been quick to fall asleep. I but hope ye are right. Muircraig will be no home an I have no marriage, have but a mon who sometimes uses my body and treats me weel but no more.”

  “T’will not be so dismal. I feel that in my heart. Now, come, Iain searches for you. ’Tis time to leave.”

  Sitting in a cart with the children, Meg and Grizel, Islaen watched Iain ride with the men, occasionally moving along the line of carts to see that all went smoothly. Her heart ached for he seemed as out of reach as ever. She was not sure she had the strength or patience to continue to fight for some place in his affections. Her love for him was as strong as ever but a strange lack of initiative had overcome her lately. After so many long months she was weary of the battle.

  Once at Muircraig, she busied herself directing the placement of all they had brought. Several times she saw Alexander in deep conversation with her kin but her suspicion that he might be up to something was fleeting, for she was far too busy to worry about it. If Alexander was meddling again she was sure she would find out later.

  “Things still arenae right,” Alaistair muttered as he stood by Alexander and watched his daughter and her husband.

  “They will be soon.”

  Smiling crookedly, Alaistair eyed the young man with a little sternness. “Ye ken too much of what is between those two.”

  “They are both my friends and I act out of caring for them, wishing their happiness, which I strongly feel can only be found within the marriage they were both pushed into.”

  “They have had months to find it, yet it still eludes them.”

  “Aye, it has. It was changing ere MacLennon died. Unfortunately MacLennon struck ere Iain could speak to Islaen of this change of heart.”

  “The attack came o’er a week ago. Has the lad lost his urge to speak?”

  “Nay. Iain must have time,” he looked at Alaistair and smiled crookedly, “and privacy to say his piece and then prove his words.”

  “Then privacy he shall have for I am fair sick of watching the wee lass trying to act as if naught is amiss.” He immediately sought out his sons to tell them that, as soon as everything was unpacked, they would leave.

  “But, Fither,” Islaen protested when he told her that they were leaving, that the last item was unpacked and put away, “we brought food enough for all of ye. Would ye not rather wait until the morning?”

  “Nay. We stayed this long for we wished to aid ye in moving. We will hie back to Caraidland to pack our goods, then go from there at dawn. Now, let me see the bairns once again ere I go. T’will most like be months ere I see them again.”

  “Before the winter comes again,” Iain said quietly as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and watched her family and Alexander ride away, “we shall go to visit them. Bairns and all. I think the bairns will be old enough to bear the journey weel.”

  “Aye, I think so and their aunts and cousins are eager to see them. Shall I have our meal readied?”

  “Aye, I should like to retire early.” He looked at her. “Verra early.”

  Feeling herself blush, Islaen softly cursed and hurried away to see to their meal. He did not have to mean anything other than he wished to go to bed early, she told herself crossly. He had certainly not indicated a desire for anything other than sleep just lately. She told herself not to think anything but she knew that she would. Just lately she could think of little else save of making love. She had often awakened in the morning cursing herself for fallng asleep so soundly and quickly and Iain for not trying to rouse her. Finally, she told herself that, no matter how anxious she grew for his touch, she would not be the first one to act. ‘This time Iain can,’ she thought angrily. ‘He can beg for it first. Weel, ask nicely.’ By the time she joined him for their meal she had decided that just some indication from him that he was feeling inclined would be enough, then chided herself for her weakness.

  Iain maintained an amiable chatter throughout the meal. He also made certain, subtly, that Islaen did not have too many sips of wine. It was going to be an effort to say all he thought he ought to, what he wanted to say despite his sudden attack of cowardice, and he did not want to have to repeat it all because she was too dulled by wine. He let her go to their chambers first as well, so that he could have a little time to prepare himself and stiffen his suddenly weak backbone. Ruefully, he admitted that he feared rejection or simple disinterest. He feared he had waited too long to come to his senses, that he had killed whatever feelings she had held for him with his constant pushing her away. Finishing his wine, he started toward their chambers deciding it was best to get it over with.

  When Iain entered their chambers, Islaen watched him covertly. She had hurriedly undressed, washed and gotten into bed but had decided that it was useless to even try to feign sleep. Iain had been acting somewhat strange since her kin had left, almost flirtatious at times, and he had seemed to be constantly watching her. It made her nervous.

  “Islaen, we must talk,” he said softly as he got into bed and reached for her.

  Talking was not what Islaen felt inclined to do when he held her so close, but she did not voice her real wishes. She was also afraid of what he might say. If she could see their marriage as a failure he could also but, unlike her, he was not urged by love to keep trying to mend things. The longer he hesitated to speak, the more certain she was that he was about to suggest that they live apart, perhaps even seek a way to have the marriage ended.

  “I can stay with my fither,” she blurted out.

  Abruptly distracted from trying to think of a proper way to open the discussion, Iain stared at her. “What?”

  “My fither will take me in, an I claim it as my decision. There should be no real difficulty.” She was surprised that she could speak of something so painful with such relative calm.

  “What are ye babbling about?”

  “Ye sending me away.”

  He held her tighter. “God’s beard, ’tis the last thing I want. Why should I do such a thing?”

  Her brief conviction faltered alarmingly and she said weakly, “Because this marriage hasnae worked e’en after so long.”

  “’Tis barely eighteen months since we wed. ’Tis not so verra long. And, if this marriage hasnae worked, ’tis only myself to blame. I wouldnae let it work. I told myself t’was best an it didnae.”

  Hardly daring to breathe for fear of stopping a conversation that held the promise of at least explaining a few things, Islaen whispered, “Why didnae ye, Iain?”

  “Have ye no idea?”

  “A few but I cannae feel certain.”

  “Aye, ’tis impossible to read a person’s thoughts or heart and I told ye naught. I thought to save ye from grief. I thought to protect ye from the pain of it, Islaen.”

  “Did ye ne’er think that grief could come from a live but cold husband, from e’er being kept at a distance?”

  “Aye, but I thought t’would be a lesser grief. Ye would still have the heart left to find another, to love and wed.”

  “Or mayhaps I wouldnae wish to chance failing again. After giving all to ye and gaining naught mayhaps I wouldnae have the heart nor the strength to try again. Some find failure as deeply bitter as grief, Iain,” she said as he looked at her with some surprise. “Are ye telling me that ye arenae going to be running away from me any longer, that mayhaps we have a chance to make our marriage a good one and Muircraig a real home?” She ran her hand over his hip and felt him tremble slightly.

  “Would ye like that, Islaen?” He told himself to behave, that they still had a lot to talk about, but continued to unlace her shift.

  “Aye. Verra much. ’Tis what I have always wanted. Iain, kiss me,” she whispered.

  “We arenae done talking,” he said with equal softness even as he brushed his lips over hers.

  “I ken it, but once ye stilled some of my fears I got to thinking on other things. It has been so verra long, Iain.”

  “Aye, too long,” he growled and then kissed her,
moving so that she lay beneath him. “God’s beard, how I have missed your sweetness,” he rasped as his lips followed the descent of her shift as he eased it off of her body.

  Her hands clenching in his hair as he paused to suckle the aching tips of her breasts, she found her voice thick and husky with passion when she was finally able to speak. “Yet ye stayed away for so long.”

  “I had to.” He finished removing her shift, then crouched over her, the sight of her lithe, naked form all the foreplay he needed. “T’was a torture, sweeting. I dinnae think there was a moment I didnae ache for ye.”

  Curling her fingers around his shaft, she urged him to join their bodies. “I ken the torment weel, Iain. End it now, husband.”

  What little control he had ended the moment he joined their bodies. Islaen held him close as the hunger in his kiss matched the fierce thrusts of his body. She welcomed the fury of his passion and met it, wanting to savor each movement of his body within hers but unable to control her starved desires. Vaguely she was aware of him watching her when her passion crested but, as she fell into passion’s abyss, she knew he was with her, felt him drive deep within her and heard him cry out her name.

  Feeling satisfaction turn to renewed desire, Iain set aside the cloth he had washed them with and rejoined Islaen in their bed. Lying on his side next to her, he gently brushed the tangled hair from her face and smiled into her sleepy gaze. He still held her passion and that gave him hope, gave him the strength to finish talking.

  “Now, where was I ere ye interrupted me?” He idly drew circles around her nipples with his finger and watched them slowly harden.

  “Iain, if ye mean to have a talk, I dinnae think ye should do that,” she murmured but made no move to halt him, lying quiescently beneath his idle yet sensuous attentions. “I might get distracted again.”

  “Weel, if ye keep lying verra still ye may be able to let me finish most all of what I have left to say.”

  Feeling decidedly wanton, she just smiled. There was something exciting about just lying there letting him do as he pleased and feeling renewed desire seep through her veins. She was a little curious as to how long she could do so before having to touch him. Concentrating on his words would slow passion’s control over her and she exerted herself to do just that.

  “Weel, what else did ye have to say? That wasnae all of it?”

  “Nay. I ken I dinnae really have to say it all but I will. I want all cleared between us.”

  “A fresh start.”

  “Aye, a fresh start. Islaen, t’was not only ye I ran from. I ran from myself, from all ye could make me feel. After losing Mary, then Catalina’s death, I shut myself away, locked up my feelings. I put my heart in armor as strong as any warrior’s. I didnae want to feel and I didnae want anyone to make me feel. From the moment we met, Islaen, ye chipped away at that wall. I think the hardest thing to fight was the way ye could make me smile. Passion, ye ken, doesnae need to touch the heart and, e’en though t’was the fiercest and best I have e’er tasted, I oft felt I could control that. A mon has many years to learn to keep his lusts free of any other feelings. Och, ’tis so hard to explain.”

  “Ye dinnae need to be too exact, Iain,” she said softly and trembled when he stroked her thigh.

  “I dinnae think I can be.” He leaned down to tease at her hardened nipples with his tongue. “Ye moved.”

  Clenching her hands which had begun to reach for him, she muttered huskily, “’Tis harder than I thought. Iain, when did ye decide to stop running? It wasnae just today was it?” She fought to keep her mind on the conversation and not on the hand caressing her thighs and legs and making her ache. “Was it when MacLennon was killed?” She moaned softly when he began to suckle gently.

  “Nay, before that. When ye were taken by Fraser I thought my reasons for keeping a distance justified. If ye could feel but a part of the pain that seared me when I thought ye dead, then t’was my duty to protect ye from it. E’en then I think I kenned I hoped to protect myself too, to pull back some. T’was myself I feared for as much as ye.” After savoring the view of her breasts damp and swollen from his attentions, he turned his amorous skills upon her midriff. “Ye are squirming, lass.”

  “I will make ye pay for this, Iain MacLagan.”

  “I will consider that a promise,” he murmured, moving so that he was sprawled between her thighs. “Now, I was going to tell ye what changed my mind.” He encircled her navel with kisses as his hands gently stroked her hips.

  “I think ye best hurry, Iain.”

  “But, sweeting, I was meaning to go slow with ye. ’Tis all I have thought on these last months.”

  “I meant hurry and finish talking,” she rasped as he scattered kisses down her leg.

  “Alexander changed my mind.”

  “Alexander?” she croaked as he held her foot and slowly kissed each toe.

  “Aye. He got me to thinking on how only God can decide when someone will die, that I didnae have to be killed by MacLennon. He got me thinking on how I was depriving both of us, wasting the precious time God had given us.” He started up her other leg. “His words swam around in my mind for days but took firm hold when ye came to Muircraig, when ye seduced me. That ye would do that told me ye werenae happy with the way things were and I wasnae either. I also finally admitted to myself that I sought to protect myself as much as ye. I had wasted so many months of both our lives.” He kissed the top of each inner thigh, then placed his lips upon the soft, heated warmth between them. “I will waste no more.”

  Very quickly Islaen gave up all attempts to be still. She arched to his intimate caress, then tried to pull him into her embrace. A soft cry of frustrated need escaped her when he slowly made his way back up her body, then joined their bodies with an equal leisureliness, seemingly oblivious to her near frantic need. Her eyes closed with pleasure as she felt the union of their bodies but flew open again when he did not move but lay still, cupping her face in his hands.

  “Aye keep those lovely eyes open,” he rasped, his control nearly breaking as he strained to move within her eager body with a slow, measured stroke. “I want to see your pleasure. I want to see how black your eyes grow making the gold shine as if polished.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I want ye to see my pleasure, dearling, to see what ye do to me.” Seeing how close she was to her release, sensing it and wanting to be there with her, his thrusts grew fiercer. “Aye, sweet Islaen, look deep. I want ye to see my love,” he rasped softly even as she cried out with her release.

  Holding her tightly he let her drag him into desire’s abyss with her, groaning his delight over the way her body drank of his. When he felt recovered enough, he propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at her. Lightly kissing her still-flushed face he deemed her lovely beyond compare. He felt a strong pleasure, even pride, in the fact that he could bring her such happiness, a fact she had never tried to hide from him. Iain hoped that that was a sign that his feelings were or soon could be returned in full. He admitted that he needed her to love him, needed it badly.

  Islaen was almost afraid to open her eyes. She could hear his passion-roughened voice speaking of love, but feared it had been a dream, a delusion inspired by her own desires. So many times had she prayed to hear those words that she found it easy to disbelieve her own ears. She also feared that she might give into the strong temptation to ask him if she had heard right and thereby embarrass herself, making her own hopes clear, or completely destroy this new blossoming openness Iain was revealing by pushing too hard.

  “Ah, ye cannae go to sleep yet, wee Islaen.” He touched his lips to hers.

  “I wasnae asleep.” She opened her eyes slowly.

  “T’will be different now, Islaen. I swear it to ye. I ken I will need time to prove myself to ye…”

  “Nay, Iain.”

  “Lass, I havenae been a good husband. I havenae given ye what I ken ye needed.”

  “Ye ne’er promised me anything, Iain, save to say that ye were no we
ncher nor wife beater. Ye havenae e’er lied to me either. If ye say things will be different now, then I believe ye. I may be a bit slow to believe, but only because change takes getting used to, and because I have wanted it so badly I may fear I have fooled myself into thinking I have it.”

  He lightly traced the delicate lines of her face. “I dinnae deserve ye, Islaen. Ye have had a lot of patience with this fool.”

  “Ye arenae a fool, Iain. Ye did what ye felt was right and kind. Just because we didnae all agree with it doesnae mean ye are a fool. I also have no choice.” She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled a little sadly, knowing she could no longer hold back the words that filled her heart, yet still afraid of the reception such a declaration would get. “Aye, I was angry at times, e’en bitter, but I couldnae stop, couldnae turn from the path I was on, not since I first set eyes upon ye.”

  There was a look in her eyes that had him tense, almost breathless. “Why couldnae ye, Islaen? Why?”

  So intense was his gaze that she found she could not look away even though she wanted to. “Because I love ye,” she whispered and not only found herself the recipient of a very fierce kiss but felt him harden within her. “Weel,” she gasped when his mouth finally freed hers and he held her tightly, his face pressed against her neck, “that wasnae what I expected to happen.”

  “Why not?” he asked huskily as he looked at her, his hand moving slowly over her curves. “Shouldnae a mon be delighted, nay, overjoyed, to discover his love returned e’en though he’s done his best to kill all chance of it?”

  “His love returned?”

  “Aye, Islaen, didnae ye hear me or had pleasure deafened ye?” he teased.

  “I wasnae sure. I have wanted ye to say the words for so long that I feared I was now making myself hear them, dreaming them if ye will.”