There was no more fighting for him, at least not on the battlefield. The king had made it clear that he was to protect his daughter and if that meant accepting clan life, James would do it.
James sat across from Conall and Magnus at the tables. Rory sat next to him working on his third trencher of food. Rory’s body leaned forward over his treasure, his strong arms caging the dish like a dog guarding a bone.
Magnus and Conall sat with creased brows as they witnessed Rory’s attack on a leg of mangled meat.
Magnus shook his red head in wonderment. “That laddie has one hell of a long stomach.”
Conall took a long vigorous chug of mead then set the empty tankard on the table. “Aye, ‘tis like watching a wild beast devour its prey. Repulsive.”
Juices from the mangled leg dripped from the corners of Rory’s mouth as he looked up from his trencher. His mouth full of food, he mumbled, “Ye can talk rubbish all ye want but I need my strength if I intend to be betwixt a lass's legs all night.” He winked.
“Poor lass,” Conall snickered.
James was oblivious to the nonsense chatter. A stunning woman in a royal blue dress had caught his attention the moment she came into view. As soon as he spotted Abigale he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. A tight bodice enhanced her breasts just enough to tease his eyes. Long waves of auburn hair danced across her shoulders as she sat and told a story to a group of twelve children. Like a warm ray of sunshine, her face lit up with a smile as she engaged the group of wee bairns. She was born to be a mother, he thought.
It had been too long since the last time he’d seen Abigale. On their way back to the campsite, James had used his magic to put her under a healing sleep that lasted for two days. It was the least he could do, for he was the cause of her discomfort. While on horseback, Abigale had rode draped across his lap as he held her tightly. Tiny as she was, she had fit perfectly tucked up next to him, soft curves snuggled against vigorous strength. For a moment he had wished he could hold her like that forever, but reality was bloody cruel.
“Ye have yerself one bonny wife.” Conall nodded his head toward Abigale and brought James’s attention to him.
James cleared his throat. “Aye.” He picked up his tankard and drank heavily.
“So, when are ye going to have wee bairns of yer own running round the castle?” Conall jested.
Amber liquid shot from James’s mouth and splattered all over Conall. “Bloody hell, Conall!”
“What?” Conall wiped the mead from his face and tunic, “Lady Abigale is a beauty, why no?”
“Look at her one more time and I’ll rip yer eyes right out of their sockets.” James didn’t know why he threatened his brother at arms like that. The more he thought about Abigale, the more his world spun out of control.
“Nay, don’t fash yerself, my friend.” A luscious redhead playing the harp came into Conall’s view.
~~~~~
Twelve children, between three and twelve years of age, bright-eyed, and curiously enthralled listened closely to Abigale as she told a tale about a brave knight who fought for Scotland’s freedom. Leaning forward toward the children, she made sure the cherub-faced bairns paid close attention.
“And as the brave knight returned home from battle, he crept up the stairs to his daughter’s bedchamber to bid her a good night. When he entered the room his daughter jumped out of bed and ran to her da. He pulled his little princess close and hugged her firmly. He made a vow that night as he said, ‘do no fret my pet for ye shall be free. No longer shall ye be caged like a bird. Be free and fly, songbird.’”
Abigale paused for a moment. Remembering this story brought up the past. It was the same tale she told herself every night while living at Dunfermline Abbey.
Wee children rushed her as their lean arms hugged her neck. Wet kisses pecked her face, and Abigale returned their love with hugs of her own. “Now go play, and Niven, stay oot of Alice’s special oatcakes.” She waved an authoritative finger at him. “She’ll have yer backside.”
“Aye, my lady.” Niven bowed.
Abigale sat there for a while as she watched the children scamper off. Niven was always getting into some kind of mischief. At least two times this morn he had snuck two oatcakes, and had been chased out of the kitchen by Alice several times by midday. That one there was a handful, his mother must be at her wit’s end with him, she thought.
“It seems ye have a way with the wee bairns, Lady Abigale.” Marcus stood next to her leaning a shoulder against the stone wall.
“Aye.” She smiled and stood up. “They are precious, a true gift from God.” Her eyes followed Niven as he took off towards the kitchen. Abigale shook her head and laughed. “That lad has a head full of rocks.”
Marcus smirked. “Highlanders tend to have a stubborn streak.”
Abigale was beginning to find his statement true.
“Seeing yer mother murdered right before yer eyes will scar ye for life.”
Stunned, Abigale turned and faced Marcus. “He saw his mother die?”
“Aye. We believe he was only five summers old when it happened. ‘Tis a shame. James allowed the boy to stay here. In fact, the lad has grown quite fond of yer husband and has become one of the stable grooms. Clumsy, but he cares for the horses quite well.”
“How old is he?”
“Ten-and-two, we believe.”
“Thank God James had given the lad a home. I can’t imagine what he has been through.” Abigale searched the hall until James came into view. He was with his men, talking. As she watched him from across the room, it warmed her heart knowing what James had done. He’d saved Niven’s life. The Bogeyman didn’t seem so evil after all, she pondered.
The tempo of the music picked up to a jig as a tin whistle joined the harp. A few ladies danced to the music while the men drank their mead and recalled a time in their younger years when they could keep up with the lassies.
Abigale noticed Magnus as he stood and readjusted his tunic over his plump belly. He searched through the great hall as if looking for someone. “Och Alice, you bonny lass, come dance with me!” he yelled out over the crowded tables.
Alice stood with her hands on her hips and said, “I thought ye’d never ask.”
As they joined in with the other dancers in front of the great hall, Abigale watched them as Magnus twirled Alice to the music. She sighed. She wished that that was her and James dancing to the music. Holding her close, feeling his strong body next to hers, all the while making her feel as if she was the only lass in the room. She sighed again. Oh, what a wonderful feeling that must be, she thought. Abigale Bruce, even if he asked ye to dance there’s one small problem. Ye don’t know how to dance.
Looking away from the dancing couples in disappointment, she began to leave the sitting area when Marcus grabbed her arm. “Lady Abigale, would ye care to dance?”
Oh no! Was she that readable… was she that pathetic that he was going to show her mercy by asking her to dance? Quickly Abigale thought of an excuse. “Thank ye kindly, but I dinnae think my husband would take kindly to me dancing with another man."
Marcus pulled her closer to him. “James is my cousin. ‘Tis fine.”
“Aye, how silly of me to have forgotten.” How was she going to get out of this situation? For certain she would look like a fool stumbling and stomping all over his feet. A princess was expected to be a graceful dancer, for that's how you caught the eye of an admirer. At least that was what she was told; there was no dancing allowed at the nunnery. Oh, she could just hear the laughter now throughout the hall as their graceless princess fell straight on her arse.
“Come.” Marcus nodded to the couples dancing and started to guide her toward them.
Abigale planted her feet on the ground and tried to pull away from his grip. “Nay. I cannae.”
Confusion swept Marcus’s face. “Why not? I told ye, James won’t mind,” he reassured her.
There was no telling this man no. True to his word, Highlan
ders were stubborn men. In order to save herself from the humiliation, she had to tell him the truth. Taking in a deep breath and then slowly letting it go, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I dinnae know how to dance,” Abigale closed her eyes, anticipating his laughter.
Marcus placed his finger under her chin tipping her head up. “Och Lady Abigale, ye’re in good hands I can assure ye. I’d be honored to teach ye."
Abigale shyly smiled. “Are ye sure?”
He placed his hand over his chest. “On my honor.”
Marcus took her by the arm and led her in front of the great hall where they joined the other dancers. Placing her right hand into his, he spun Abigale around as if he was showing off a prized possession. Pulling her close, he smiled. “Relax, follow my lead."
Marcus was quite a gentleman, he never once complained when Abigale stepped on his foot or tripped over her own. They just laughed about it and continued their dance. He spun her with grace and she truly felt beautiful. Abigale was surprised how quickly she caught on and by the third dance she was the one who led.
When the dance ended, she was winded and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Marcus was indeed a skillful dancer and an excellent instructor. Leading them over to a table so Abigale could sit and regain her breath, Marcus poured her a drink, and sat across the table from her. He leaned over it as if he had a secret to tell. “May I speak openly, my lady?"
“Of course, ye shall.” Curious to what he had to say, she leaned in closer.
“My cousin is a fool for allowing his bonny wife to dance with another man. If ye were my wife I’d never allow it.”
The intensity of his statement left Abigale uneasy. Certainly, she had enjoyed dancing with Marcus and adored his company, but she hoped that she didn’t give him the wrong impression. “I must go. Thank ye for the dance.” Without causing a scene, she quickly excused herself.
~~~~~
Long, sharp talons protruded from James’s fingertips and scored the wooden table top. The more he watched Marcus twirl Abigale around as they danced, the deeper his daggers plunged into the wood. Marcus was mocking him, wasn’t he? Pulling her body close, feeling her soft curves. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. James growled profoundly.
This foreign sensation of uncontrolled jealousy surged through him. It cranked his dragon senses to hyper-sensitive. Never had he felt this way before and quite frankly he didn’t like it.
James raked his claws down the table leaving a trail of splintered wood behind as he saw Marcus whisper into Abigale’s ear. His focus stayed on Abigale the whole time. God’s bones! The urge to jump over the table and rip Marcus's head from his body was consuming every fiber in his body. His dragon vibrated and rumbled inside of him and itched to be released.
The sound of wood cracking caught Conall’s attention. A sharp pain blasted across James’s shin as Conall kicked him. Snapping his head up, he shot his best friend a lethal look.
Wide-eyed, Conall tipped his chin to James’s claws.
As James looked down, shiny black talons stared back at him. Instantly he retracted them.
Shite, what the hell was wrong with him? Never had he lost control like that, not in public. This was not the place nor time to be testing his dragon’s appetite for blood. Rubbing the back of his neck, he blew out a heavy sigh. He grabbed his tankard and drained it dry.
“Are ye alright?” Conall asked.
“Aye.” James took out his frustrations on his tankard as he slammed it down onto the table. “Need more mead.”
~~~~~
As Abigale weaved through the crowded great hall, she was stopped a few times to be introduced to clan members. Names and faces started to blur, for she had met so many people in such a short amount of time, it made her head hurt. Furthermore, her feet were killing her. All she wanted to do was to slip into bed and drift off to sleep.
As she reached the stairs leading to her bedchamber, she paused. The hairs on the nape of her neck started to stand and her body warmed as amber eyes penetrated her skin. Her cheeks blushed pink as a wave of nervousness ran through her, making her palms sweat. No need to confirm; James was watching her, watching her every move.
Abigale was relieved when she finally reached her bedchamber. She hurried out of her dress, changed into a clean shift, and now stood by a window that looked out over the rolling moonlit hills. Beyond the hills lay a grey shadow of a mountain range that disappeared into the night sky. Soon their peaks would be powdered with snow. Combing through a wave of auburn hair, she thought that would be a wonderful place to take Fergus for a ride.
The wooden door to her bedchamber slammed open. Two huge dogs barreled through and leapt onto the bed, making themselves right at home. Startled, Abigale raced to the bed. “Ye smelly mongrels, get down… shoo!” A wet tongue lapped at her face while the other dog made himself comfortable at the end of the bed.
“Sorry lass, Lennox and Mahboon stay.” James filled the door frame as he staggered pulling his boots off.
“What are ye doing here?” This was her bedchamber, so she thought. It was the same room she had been in last night.
“This is my bedchamber, Abigale. I should be asking ye the same question.” James pulled his tunic up over his head and started to fumble with his kilt.
Holy Mary, Mother of God. He was undressing right before her eyes. She had never seen a man naked before. Well, that was not completely true. Did her patients in the infirmary count? Nay, no one came close to the man standing before her. Her first response was to close her eyes and look away, but female instincts told her to gaze upon every corded muscle the man was offering. Her eyes gazed upon his tanned, muscled chest to the ripples of his abdomen to the line of fine dark hair that disappeared below his plaid.
“This is what ye want… no?” James asked.
Abigale snapped her head up to find James in pursuit, stalking her like she was his prey. For every dominating step forward he took, she took two steps back in retreat until the coldness of the stone wall bit into her back and she was trapped, pinned to the wall by his body. He pressed against her. Instantly she felt his heat radiate through the light material of her shift. Her heart quickened in anticipation. Fluttering tingles filled her core and her breasts ached for his touch. God help her, she wanted this man.
Abigale felt his arm move and prayed he was going to touch her, but instead he rested his forearm on the stone wall above her head. He brushed his lips down to her lower neck. With one long flick of his tongue he licked her all the way up to the soft spot just below her ear as if he was tasting her. “Ye have my attention, lass. Now what are ye going to do with it?"
The slick softness of his tongue sent tingles throughout her body and her legs threatened to buckle. Breathing became difficult as her chest worked hard to pump air through her lungs. Well Abigale, what are ye going to do? A gorgeously naked man stood before her. A man who claimed he did not want her, yet here he was encaging her with his massive frame. Was this his way of intimidating her, to scare her, and make her leave the bedchamber? Intimidation did not set well with her; in fact it brought out her feisty side. No more would she allow threats to rule her life like they had back at the nunnery. Should she dare call his bluff and make the first move? Mayhap he wasn’t bluffing at all, she thought. Instincts told her to tread cautiously, but her body craved his touch. Something about the way he made her feel brought out her bravery and she was going to claim her first kiss.
Never having been kissed before, she didn’t know where to start. Should she place her hands on his shoulders or should she wrap her arms around his waist? Should she close her eyes or leave them open? Awkward didn’t begin to describe how she was feeling right now. Wasn't the man supposed to make the first move? Not if they are all as stubborn as James Douglas, she thought.
She placed her hands on his chest. Aye, this felt right. Astonished by the sinew of his muscles, her fingers explored his smooth chest. All the while James nibbled up and down her neck. Her thum
b grazed over his nipple causing him to growl deeply. So, she did have an effect on him after all. She smiled to herself.
Abigale snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. The ampleness of his lips enticed her, she needed to taste him. Without hesitation she licked his bottom lip and drew its fullness into her mouth. To her surprise, he opened his mouth, inviting her in, and allowing her to take control. As she guided her tongue into his mouth, she felt its warmness and could smell the mead on his breath. Passion drove her forward and she deepened the kiss until she felt weightless.
The kiss ended too quickly as James pulled away. “Och, if I’m not to yer liking I can go find Marcus.”
“Marcus?” In one moment she had been consumed by this magical kiss, and all the while James had been concerned about Marcus. Did he really think that she wanted to bed another man? It was just a dance, nothing more.
James’s eyes pinned her deep blues, “Ye didnae seem to mind his company earlier.”
“I only danced with him because he’s yer cousin.” Abigale tried to reassure him, but it seemed he didn’t believe her.
“I have an idea… I’ll go fetch Marcus and he can join us. What say ye?” James started to pull up her shift.
“Enough, ye’re drunk.” Abigale swatted at his chest. “There's no need to be jealous. It was just a dance.”
“Jealous?” James released his grip on her shift. “Nay, I care not.” He walked away from her and made his way to the bed. His massive naked body sprawled out over black furs while Lennox and Mahboon took up residence at the foot of the bed. James folded his hands behind his head nonchalantly. “Last offer, lass. Aye or nay.”
Most definitely nay, he was drunk and wanted to claim her out of pure jealousy. Damn him and his stubborn egotistical ways. Abigale stormed over to the bed and grabbed a fur. “I’d rather sleep in a byre.”
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 66