A Midsummer Wedding (The Scottish Relic Trilogy)

by May McGoldrick

  And for the first time, she longed for something like that in her own life.

  The hiss of juices drew Elizabeth’s attention. The duck was on fire.

  “Damnation!” she cursed, hurrying over. She looked around her in panic. There was nothing she could use to grasp the hot iron skewer without burning herself. “Nay, I’m not about to let you go to waste.”

  Whipping the blanket off her shoulders, she wrapped one corner of it around her hand and arm, and reached for the rod. After a couple of tries, she pulled the bird to safety. But in the meantime, a loose corner of the blanket found its way into the flames and was now on fire.

  “Hellfire! This is not happening. We are not burning this place down.” She dropped the bird. Rolling the blanket up and throwing it onto the packed dirt floor, Elizabeth beat it with her hands and stomped on it until the fire was out.

  Using the scorched blanket, she picked up their dinner off the floor and brushed off some ash clinging to the skin.

  “Much better,” she murmured. “Who says cooking is an art?”

  But as she turned to put the bird on the table, her heart stopped.

  Alexander stood bare-chested in the doorway.

  * * *

  She was as naked as Eve, as beautiful as a faerie queen.

  Alexander’s eyes devoured every inch of her luminous skin, lingering over every luscious curve, until he realized he needed to force his lungs to breathe.

  “I saved it,” Elizabeth said proudly, dropping the burned carcass of the bird on the table.

  To his great disappointment, she shook the blanket open and draped it around her shoulders, holding it closed over her chest as she hurried across the cottage to the bed.

  “It’s a wee bit burned on the skin, but definitely edible,” she continued.

  As she leaned over the bed to pick up a dress, he had a beautiful view of her perfect, heart-shaped bottom.

  “That’s a good-sized goose,” she called over her shoulder.

  It wasn’t a goose, but there was no point in correcting her. She was pretending that he hadn’t been standing there, watching her. But he had been, and he knew now that there was no going back. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to himself. He’d known it from the moment that boat sank beneath them. Perhaps even earlier, when he’d dived into that flooding river. He knew he was lying even as he told her he didn’t want to marry.

  Elizabeth was his, and they’d be wed in six days. The way he felt now, there would be no backing out, regardless of what they’d said to each other. He wondered how much persuasion she’d need to feel the same.

  She turned, clutching the dress to her chest. He continued to stare, unable to get enough of her. The parted edges of the burned blanket gave him a clear glimpse of her long legs all the way to the hip. And then there was her face, so alert and alive, and the golden hair, loose and wild, begging for him to dig his fingers into its glowing tresses.

  She was looking past him at the table, and he followed her gaze. “I don’t know why I said goose. That’s not a goose. It’s duck. I know the difference.”

  When he looked back at her, Elizabeth was studying him, and he realized that he was nearly as naked as she was. The blasted rain had finally stopped, so he’d rinsed the worst of the mud out of their clothes and left them, with his boots, outside to dry.

  Her gaze lingered on his chest before moving slowly down past his kilt to his bare feet. Her breast rose and fell. When she looked back into his face, a blush colored her cheek.

  “How did you get clean?” she asked.

  “I washed in the duck pond.”

  “I’ll do that, too.”

  “I’ll show you where it is,” he said, images of washing her clean burning in his mind. He felt himself growing hard. By the devil, he’d love to run his lips over every inch of her body.

  “I saw it below the barn.”

  “The flood waters are still rising,” he told her. “They’re nearly to the pond itself.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  She started to move past him to the door, but before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in one sweeping motion against him.

  She gasped and he kissed her, a hard kiss that ended before she could even think of fighting him. He pulled back.

  But she wasn’t fighting him. She didn’t move. Her face was inches away from his. Her eyes wide. One palm slowly flattened against his chest. He could have sworn she’d stopped breathing entirely. But her heart was beating so hard that he could hear it, or was that the sound of his own heart?

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, staring into her blue eyes. He brushed a finger across her dirt-spattered cheek and touched her lips, still wet from his kiss. He felt her shudder. His mouth lowered to hers again, this time tenderly, caressingly.

  “Elizabeth.” He dug his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her neck, teasing the seam of her lips with his tongue.

  A soft moan escaped her throat. That sound of surrender was the sweetest he’d ever heard. Her eyes closed. He deepened the kiss, thrusting into the sweet opening of her mouth, exploring. She trembled in his arms, her body becoming soft and molding to his.

  He wanted to cast aside the blanket and the dress that separated them. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her.

  She drew back from the kiss and looked into his eyes.

  “I’ll be back,” she whispered.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rising from the clean waters of the pond, Elizabeth squeezed the excess from her hair, dried herself, and pulled the wool dress over her head.

  Above her, the evening sky was turning from an opaque blue to red gold as the sun descended in the west. The summer air was fresh and clear. If it weren’t for the waters covering the fields and the rivers running down from the forests, one would have a hard time believing a tempest had just passed.

  But the storm inside her continued to rage. When she thought of Alexander’s kiss, Elizabeth’s heart pounded. Her body ached in unmentionable places. Her lips tingled, and she could still feel the breathless sensation.

  Passion. She’d never known it. Before today, she’d never allowed herself to lose control, to shut down all logic, to silence reasonable fears. She understood it now, glancing up at the open door of the cottage. She wanted him. She wanted Alexander to kiss her again. She wanted more than that.

  Two of her could have fit inside the dress, but Elizabeth wasn’t surprised. The farm’s mistress was expecting. She’d find something to belt it tighter. Her wet hair was in disarray, but it didn’t matter. Her body was clean.

  Her body.

  A long breath flowed out of her. She hugged her arms around her chest, recalling the longing ache in her breasts when he kissed her, the liquid heat moving inward through her limbs, gathering at the junction of her legs. Indeed, she wanted him to do more. She wanted him to do the things a husband does to a wife.

  Husband? Picking up the blanket, she started toward the cottage, enveloped now in the golden light of sunset.

  At this moment, palace life and the world she’d known seemed so far away. Benmore Castle and the Highlands held a future that was not so daunting, after all. At least, not if Alexander were there with her. That was the crux of it, that man waiting up the hill in that cottage. She wanted to be with him. But what did he want?

  “Halloo!”

  Elizabeth’s stomach sank as she whirled around. Two men waved at her from a flat-bottomed boat in the flooded field below the duck pond. They were still some distance away but she recognized the queen’s colors. Castle guards.

  “Hellfire,” she murmured, disappointment washing through her. It was too soon. She didn’t want to be found right now. Elizabeth took a step back.

  “We’re searching for a lady from the castle,” one man shouted up to her.

  “No ladies here,” she replied, putting on her best Stirlingshire accent.

  “There might be a Highlander with h
er,” the other man called out. “A bear of a man, he is. You can’t mistake him.”

  Panic rose like bile into her throat as they drew even closer. If they were rescued now, would all they’d been through be enough for Alexander to change his mind? She couldn’t chance it. They needed more time together.

  “Nay, no Highlanders. No bears either.”

  The boat bumped, bottoming on a shallow place offshore. As one man used an oar to free the craft, the other peered at her. “Mistress Hay?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and took two steps back. Her mind raced. If she turned and ran, they’d come after her for certain. She wasn’t ready to return to the castle.

  “Aren’t you the queen’s friend, mistress?”

  “Nay. Not I, sir.”

  The two men were staring at her. “You’re not Mistress Hay?”

  “Are you daft?” She motioned toward the cottage. “Do I need to fetch my husband?”

  The queen’s guards exchanged a look.

  She waved them off. “You’d best be on your way if you’re to get back to Stirling before nightfall.”

  Elizabeth waited until they turned the boat. Shaking out and refolding the blanket, she watched them move away toward the river.

  Standing inside the open cottage door, Alexander banged his fist into his palm. His spirit soared as he listened to Elizabeth choose to stay with him over going back to Stirling Castle. He had his answer.

  He’d watched Elizabeth from the moment she made her way down to the duck pond. He’d seen her bathe and dress. And he’d spotted the small boat crossing the flooded fields.

  When the castle guards called out to her, he thought his time with her here had come to an end. But something made him hang back and wait. He was glad now that he did. Her response changed everything.

  He ducked his head and went out into the farmyard. As she made her way toward him, he wanted to go down the hill and sweep her into his arms. But he waited, forcing himself to be still. The dress she was wearing had been made for a larger woman, but he’d never seen anything so enticing. Her bare feet and legs were visible as she lifted the hem above the rain-drenched ground. She smiled at him and his body responded.

  Elizabeth was inexperienced. He needed to give her time, go slowly, woo her. But before the sun went down, that dress would be history and those golden tresses falling in waves to her waist would be the only thing covering her. Other than his body.

  “Who were they, those men in the boat?” he asked as she drew near.

  “Guards from Stirling. They wanted to know if we needed help.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I sent them away,” she said. “I told them the duck on our table wasn’t large enough to feed four.”

  She looked over her shoulder at the disappearing boat, and Alexander saw the pulse beating wildly at her throat. She was avoiding his gaze.

  “I’m starved,” she told him. “Did you eat that entire bird while I was bathing?”

  “I thought I’d wait for you.”

  He followed her in, knowing that in spite of what she’d told the castle guards, their time in the cottage was nearly over. Those men were not fooled. By morning, others would surely be arriving. In all likelihood, the cotters who lived here would return, as well.

  He sat himself across the table. Elizabeth drew the skewer from the duck and busily cut the bird into sections, pushing his supper across the table to him. As they ate in silence, he never took her eyes from her. She seemed confident, at ease with the simplicity of their setting, happy with the little that they had.

  While she was sleeping, he’d busied himself taking care of the animals and preparing the duck. But before going out, he’d taken a moment to watch her sleep. Her beauty took his breath away. And then there was their kiss. He was intoxicated with her, impatient to drink more of her lips. He wanted to taste the most private parts of her.

  A warm breeze wafted through the cottage, pushing a strand of blond hair across her cheek. He reached across and tucked it behind her ear, caressing the delicate line of her jaw.

  She was sitting quite still, her eyes open wide.

  “You’ve surprised me,” he said, breaking the silence. “And that doesn’t usually happen.”

  “I could say the same.”

  “Battling the storm and everything else, you’ve shown me you’re a woman of strength and courage.”

  “And I’m handy with an oar,” she said, smiling.

  “Aye, that too.”

  He wasn’t about to let her be distracted. He wanted her in that bed. He wanted her body beneath his. He could already feel his cock buried deep within her. But he needed to get all the business behind them. They were done with their dinners. He swept the bones aside with the back of his hand. “I had another reason for coming to Stirling.”

  “Breaking our contract wasn’t enough?” she asked, a trace of sadness flashing across her face.

  “I don’t need any contract to tell me what to do. I don’t believe you do, either.”

  She didn’t deny it. They had come to a place far beyond pretending.

  But there were things she needed to know and, seeing the sand slip through the hourglass, Alexander charged ahead.

  “The king is arriving this week. He has commanded me to come and speak with him.”

  Her eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Do you know why?”

  “James intends to rebuild and reorganize his navy, with me as Lord Admiral.”

  She folded her hands together on the table. Alexander tried to imagine everything that might be running through her mind. He could almost read in her face the fears she’d spoken of when she told him she didn’t want to marry him.

  “What will the position entail?” she finally asked.

  He knew the real question was how the king’s offer would affect her. “In taking it, I’ll have less time at Benmore Castle. And less time with my wife.”

  Elizabeth sat pensively, her gaze drifting to the open window.

  He didn’t want to lose her now, allowing her to imagine the worst while he was still contemplating his options. “But I haven’t yet decided to accept the offer.”

  “Why wouldn’t you take it?”

  “I have many things to consider. For one, I’m not convinced my temperament is best suited to the task.”

  “But he sought you out. That’s a great honor.”

  “Do you know the king?”

  “I don’t know him,” she admitted. “He’s never once joined Queen Margaret here since I arrived at Stirling. It’s become clear to me that they don’t have an amiable marriage.”

  “There are reasons for their estrangement,” he asserted. “The attention she gets from clans infuriates him. The Highlanders have a devotion to her that he’s never known.”

  And that wasn’t only true among the northern folk. Across the realm, the king’s costly and unrealistic schemes had made him an unpopular ruler.

  “I’ve met many nobles who have been alienated by him,” she said. “Some are members of his immediate family.”

  “The weakness in his character and his judgment makes him surround himself with pandering sycophants. And it’s a constantly changing circle.”

  This was at the heart of his problem, Alexander realized. Temperament be damned. How could he become Lord Admiral of the king’s navy when he had so little respect for the man who put him in charge?

  “Queen Margaret is very different,” she said. “But I’ve seen his favoritism firsthand. The king’s older son lives here at Stirling, ignored by his own father.”

  Another link in the chain of mistakes that seemed to be defining this king’s reign. “Only a wee, insecure man would be jealous of his son and his own wife. Word is if Margaret says the sky is blue, he’ll say it’s black just to spite her.” Alexander frowned. “But court politics can be a deadly business.”

  He stretched out his legs under the table and they rubbed against hers. Elizabeth sat up straight, drawing her le
gs in. He feared what they’d gained might be lost. He had to make her understand that nothing was final as it now stood, and if there was the matter of choosing, there would be no competition. He’d marry her in a heartbeat and forfeit the king’s favor.

  “Queen Margaret thinks very highly of you,” she said. “She’s the one who devised the plan for me to take you to the abbey.”

  “To meet my own friend, Sir Robert Johnstone.” He smiled.

  “I think she made certain we’d never get that far. Those children calling me ‘Mum’. The queen’s guards turning their back. The scared blacksmith who couldn’t get away fast enough once you came after us,” she scoffed. “She has romantic ideas about knights coming to the aid of damsels in distress.”

  “I like the way things have turned out,” he said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “I’ll have to thank her for putting you and me here together.”

  She met his gaze.

  “Alone,” he drawled. He reached over and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. She didn’t draw away from him, and he felt a tremor go through her. “Alone in this cottage where I can ravish you . . . on that bed, on this table, here on my lap.”

  Elizabeth’s chest rose with her sharp intake of breath. He held her gaze. He wanted to take her now, and it was only right that she know it.

  “But before all of that, let’s settle one thing.” He kissed her palm. “Will you marry me?’

  “I’m still a Lowlander.”

  “You and I have been promised to each other for decades. My clan considers you one of us. They want you there at Benmore Castle,” he told her. “And remember, you have iron in your will and brains in your head. The Macphersons will be lucky to have you.”

  Her cheeks burned. Her fingers entwined with his.

  “Marry me, Elizabeth.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After so many years, their lives had collided. Like two raindrops falling through the air side by side, they struck the surface of this flooded pond, splashed, and then melded together into something greater.