The Highlander's Bride

by Amanda Forester

  “Naughty baby. Very naughty baby!”

  The baby laughed in response.

  Colette removed the remainder of the wimple and took up a brush to tame her long hair back into submission. “What am I to do with you?” she asked the tot. “And what am I to do with my hair?”

  It was an age-old question. Though Colette had always worn headdresses of a most expensive variety, she knew that most unmarried ladies wore their hair loose or in plaits with a simple short veil over the top.

  With encouraging coos from the baby, Colette began to style her own hair, a feat she had never before attempted. Always surrounded by maids, her hair had been their prerogative. She would sit for hours while they crafted intricate hairstyles, which were always entirely covered by some monstrous headdress. It was all very elaborate and rather unnecessary. After some trial and error, she parted her hair down the middle and plaited each side, tying it at the end with a silk ribbon.

  “What do you think?” She showed her long plaits to the baby.

  Marie Frances responded by grabbing the end of one of her braids and giggling uproariously, pulling on it, and then sticking it into her mouth. A few days before, Colette may have found it rather repulsive to have her glorious hair coated in baby slime, but now she accepted it as the baby’s adoration of her newfound skill.

  Colette picked up the baby and walked back and forth on the boards for a few minutes as the baby’s eyelids drooped and she began to breathe softly and deeply. Colette placed the baby in the swinging bassinet and looked down on her fondly. It was strange, but the bright red scar on her cheek, which once seemed so garish, now seemed to matter not.

  Colette paused by the cabin door, her hand on the latch. She wished to go out for a breath of fresh air, but she knew Gavin was out there, and on such a humble craft, there would be no avoiding him. Of course, the captain had made it perfectly clear that there would be no avoiding Gavin tonight. The fact sent a ripple of anticipation up her spine.

  Colette rummaged through her trunks and found a gauzy veil, most likely one meant for one of her maids, and tied it tightly around her head with a ribbon, her long braids visible beneath the veil. She must look something of the peasant, but it was eminently more practical, and since she was supposed to be the wife of a tradesman, she now looked the part.

  She boldly left the cabin and emerged on deck, her eyes searching for one man. Gavin was standing in conversation with Captain Dupont. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, his face brightening into a wide smile.

  Colette turned from him to hide a blush, putting her attention on the glowing horizon. The light was dim and the sun would soon set behind the bright orange clouds. Her only hope for this evening was if Pippa would rally and be able to serve as a chaperone against the ever-pleasant Sir Gavin Patrick.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Colette approached the seasick Pippa, who was still sitting where she had been left at the bow of the ship.

  “A little, my lady,” said Pippa slowly. Her eyelids looked heavy. She had most likely been awake all night getting sick. She had been able to take some nourishment but was clearly not entirely recovered.

  “How is our patient this evening?” asked Gavin, joining the conversation.

  Colette was uncomfortably aware of his presence. When he drew near, her senses became alive. She was drawn to the genuine warmth in his brown eyes and his easy smile.

  “I might live” was all that Pippa could manage. She put a hand on her stomach and once again placed her cheek on the smooth wooden railing of the ship.

  Gavin and Colette exchanged a glance. Pippa could clearly not yet return to her duties.

  “Let us get you to bed. I hope most sincerely you will be feeling better by morn,” said Colette.

  She took one arm and Gavin the other, and together they helped an unsteady Pippa back to her small cabin. Colette helped her back into bed. Gavin brought an empty bucket and placed it beside the bed.

  “I hope ye’ll be well, Pippa,” said Gavin cheerfully.

  “I am never getting on a cursed boat again,” moaned Pippa.

  Gavin went to get their meal, and Colette returned to the cabin to wait for him. She set out the table and chair as she had before, with herself perching on the edge of the straw pallet as if ready to take flight. How was she to stay alone with this man?

  Gavin returned with a modest meal of bread and some sort of stew. He flashed her a wide smile, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Gavin said a quick prayer of blessing and they broke their bread and began to eat. Colette fought against the soothing notion that she was eating her meal with her husband and all was proper.

  “Good day for sailing,” said Gavin with a tight smile. Was he nervous too?

  “Yes, lovely day,” agreed Colette, not knowing what else to say.

  They dissolved into silence and ate as the light faded. Gavin stood and lit a lantern to illuminate their meal. Colette wished the baby would scream or do something to dispel the awkwardness, but for once, the babe was happily sleeping.

  Their meal complete, Colette tidied while Gavin paced the small space. It was a cozy cabin to begin with, but with the large form of Gavin Patrick, there was little space left to do anything but admire his perfectly formed physique.

  Colette held her hands tightly together to ward off nerves. It was not that she was frightened of Gavin—he had proven himself a man of honor. No, she was afraid of herself. She was attracted to him in a way that defied explanation. She was sure she could manage if only she could avoid him, but stuck together in a cabin all night, she was not sure of herself.

  “Sir Gavin…” she began but was not sure what to say.

  “Aye?” His eyes were hopeful.

  “We cannot stay together.” Her words came out as a whisper.

  His brown eyebrows fell over his eyes. “Do ye wish me to leave?”

  “No, you cannot be seen leaving the cabin or the captain, he will grow suspicious.”

  “So I must no’ stay and I must no’ go. What would ye suggest I do, m’lady?”

  “I have no idea,” said Colette helplessly. “I am engaged to another man, so you cannot stay. And yet we cannot risk raising the doubts of our fine captain, so you cannot leave. I do not know what to do.”

  Gavin took a breath and sat down on the chair, motioning for her to return to her seat on the bed. “We are both adults. We know what we must do and”—he cleared his throat—“not do.”

  Colette nodded. Trouble was, she was giving the things she should not do more attention than the things she should.

  “I shall simply sleep here in this chair and ye take the bed. We shall peacefully survive the night and all will be well.” He made his ridiculous pronouncement as if it were a simple solution.

  “You can sleep in the chair?” she asked.

  “Aye, a Highlander can sleep anywhere.” To prove his statement, he attempted to get comfortable by leaning the chair up against the wall. He managed to balance it and close his eyes when a wave rocked the ship and the chair slid down the wall, taking him to the floor.

  “Gavin?” she cried, jumping up and looking down at him on the floor.

  “I am well!” He scrambled up, rubbing the back of his head.

  “That is not going to work, no?”

  “I can do this. Dinna fear,” said Gavin, looking around the sparse cabin for a safe place to sleep. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “This will work.” He pulled two of her trunks together, end to end and attempted to lie on top. Unfortunately, the trunks had curved tops, making it difficult to balance. Also, Gavin was substantially longer than the trunks, so his legs dangled off of the end.

  Colette thought he would topple over, but he remained atop the trunks. She waited, but he appeared to have mastered the delicate art. “I did not believe you capable of balancing on my trunks,” commented Colette.

&
nbsp; “Ha! Ye’ll ne’er doubt my manly prowess again!” boasted Gavin. The ship tipped and Gavin was spilled onto the floor.

  Colette put a hand to her mouth to prevent a bubble of mirth from emerging. “Your manly prowess seems to have fallen to the floor.”

  “All part o’ my plan,” said Gavin, his scowl turning into a grin. He grabbed a spare blanket from one of the trunks and lay down on the floor. “I am a Highlander, and if my mother is correct, there is a wee bit o’ Viking in my bloodline.”

  “Do Vikings enjoy sleeping on the floor?”

  “It is what Vikings do best. When they are no’ pillaging the land, that is,” said Gavin from the floor.

  “It is not very comfortable, no?”

  “Vikings love being uncomfortable.”

  “I am glad I am not a Viking then.”

  “I wish I wasna either,” muttered Gavin.

  “Sleep well, my Viking knight.” Colette wanted to tell him to join her on the pallet bed but knew she could not.

  Gavin was on the floor with his back to her, so she removed her kirtle and then attempted to remove her gown and slip under the blankets. It should have been an easy process, but in trying to untie the laces behind her, the strings became knotted and she became stuck in her gown.

  Now what to do? She tried in vain to loosen the knot, but without seeing what she had done, it was impossible. Could she ask for assistance? No. Yes. No. She would be too embarrassed to admit being bested by her own gown.

  She attempted to rub her back against the corner of the wardrobe without calling attention to herself. Maybe she could work something loose.

  “What are ye doing? Scratching yer back like a bear?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “No! I am only… I seem to be… A slight problem…”

  Gavin jumped up off the floor. “How can I assist?”

  “I fear I have become stuck in my gown. I am not practiced in doing the laces without help,” she explained, her cheeks growing hotter with each word.

  “I am at yer service,” said Gavin, but the casual amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced by a simmering passion.

  She turned for him to perform the office, and her heart pounded in response to his hands on her back. His hands were warm through the gown, making her itch for the feel of his hands on her bare skin. She was not sure how long it took him to untie the knot, but the moments stretched on with her heart pounding a dangerous beat, yet she did not wish him to stop.

  “Do ye require assistance to remove the gown?” asked Gavin in a dry rasp.

  “Yes, if you would,” she responded huskily, though she knew she could remove the gown herself.

  He pulled gently at the fabric, sliding his hands over the sides of her body. She knew she should stop him, yet instead she turned to face him, allowing him to remove the gown and view her in nothing but her thin chemise.

  His hands reached for her, pulling her to him. He said nothing, but his lips parted and his eyes burned hot for her. She wound her arms around him, a most willing partner in their crime. She leaned close, drawn to his lips, ignoring the alarm bells of danger ringing through her mind.

  He drew her closer, and their lips met as she knew they must. Her heart soared and she tasted heaven once more. She wrapped her arms around him, and this time it was she who deepened the kiss. This was the man for her. This was the man she loved.

  “Oh!” She jumped back and put a hand on the wardrobe to steady herself, though her difficulties with balance had nothing to do with the rocking ship. She doubted she could ever right herself from the unwanted realization that Sir Gavin had touched her heart.

  “I am sorry, m’lady,” apologized Gavin, in a low voice that was more seductive than apologetic. “I shoud’na have taken liberties. I canna seem to help myself.”

  “No, ’twas my fault. I wanted to kiss you.” She surprised herself with such an honest confession.

  “I want to do more,” said Gavin in a low voice, his eyes black in the dim light of the lantern.

  “So do I,” she whispered.

  Gavin took a deep breath and blew it out again. “Canna do that, so we must take desperate measures.”

  A few minutes later, Colette was leaning out the window to talk to Gavin, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard by the night watch. “Are you certain this will work?” she whispered anxiously.

  Gavin had found a long coil of rope and somehow managed to tie himself horizontally, dangling from the windowsill, the ropes stringing across the room, anchored around the wardrobe that was bolted to the wall. The sloping edge of the ship and the battlements above the window made it impossible for him to be seen by the night watch. “Vikings did it all the time. Loved it, they did,” he whispered cheerfully.

  “But will you be safe?”

  “Quite safe. I’ll either be here by morning or in the belly o’ the whale, like Jonah.”

  “Please do not tease me. Come inside before you drown.”

  “Nay, canna do it. I am no’ a man to be trusted, I fear. I gave ye my word I would no’ ravish ye tonight, and I am a man o’ my word.”

  In the end, Colette had to admit he was right, for she could not be trusted either. As she finally drifted to sleep, her one thought was that he had promised not to touch her tonight…but the other nights of the journey were as yet unspoken.

  Twenty-six

  Gavin thought nothing could cool his ardor for Colette, but that was before he spent the night hanging outside her window, being splashed with cold salt water. By the time she helped haul him in, he had decided a life of celibacy would be for him.

  “Did you survive? Oh, but you are cold as ice!” Colette helped him into the cabin and threw a blanket around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. He usually responded to her touch, but he was now too frozen. At least he had found a cure, though whether he could survive the treatment was less certain.

  “I am well,” he said—or tried to say as best he could through chattering teeth.

  “You are mad, quite mad. If you should die of fever, I shall never in all my life forgive you.” Colette stood with her hands on her hips. In her haste to pull him back into the ship, she had forgotten her robe and stood before him in her chemise, the fabric stretching over her ample bosom.

  Life flickered within him and parts of his body he feared had frozen off during the night sparked to life. “Ye could rouse a dead man,” he stammered, all thoughts of his life of celibacy forgot.

  “You need hot water and something warm to eat. I do hope Pippa is well this morn and can be of use.” She walked to the cabin door, but Gavin called her back.

  “Ropes,” he said in a hoarse voice, pointing at his handiwork. If the captain or any of the crew saw their cabin strung with ropes, they might come to a very interesting conclusion regarding the excitement of their marital bed.

  “Oh my, yes.” Colette helped Gavin untie the ropes and stow them away in the wardrobe. Their hands brushed together in the process and Colette stopped to hold his between her small warm ones. “You are so very cold.” The warm sympathy in her brilliant green eyes was enough to stir life back into all extremities.

  “I survived,” he responded a bit more gruffly than he intended. The night had not passed well for him.

  “You did it for me and I will forever be in your debt. You are a most honorable knight,” she praised in her low, alluring tone.

  “A pleasure, m’lady. Willing to do it again tonight if need be,” promised Gavin, fervently hoping it would not prove necessary.

  “You are very kind.” She leaned closer, her chemise a seductive tease, revealing more than it hid. He could rip it from her in seconds. He shivered at the thought.

  “Oh, but you are terribly cold.” Colette frowned with concern. “And you are soaked through. You must get out of these clothes at once.”

  Colette
began to strip off his tunic, and he allowed her to do so without comment, afraid one wrong move on his part would break the spell. If she wanted to strip him naked, he certainly had no complaints.

  His tunic removed, she put her hands to his naked chest. “Saints above, but you are still so cold,” she said briskly. “We need to get you into dry clothes.” But she did not move. And her hands remained on his chest.

  “I know what would warm me.” He voiced thoughts he’d meant to keep to himself. He couldn’t help himself. She was a half second away from being naked, and he was already half-undressed. He wanted her with a surging, burning passion that would not be denied.

  “I have heard of using the heat of bodies to warm the cold-stricken soul.” Her voice was low and halting. She met his eyes, not turning away.

  Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “Aye.” He wrapped his arms around her slowly, sliding one hand up her back and the other down, caressing her perfectly formed derriere. He could not help himself from tugging her close, engulfing her in his arms.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh!” She stepped back, as if coming to her senses. “I…I think you are warm enough now.”

  Warm? No. Hot? Oh, heavens, yes. He cursed himself for pushing too hard too fast. And then cursed himself for wanting to seduce her. He stepped back, trying to gain some kind of objectivity. Hard to do with her still wearing her thin chemise. And he was still in wet breeches. It was a hard morning all around.

  “Some refreshment might help me.” He couldn’t believe he was sending her away, but it was his only chance. “I’ll change back into my plaid.”

  “Yes. Very good.” She spun and put a hand to the latch.

  “Put yer robe on, or ye’ll tempt the entire crew!”

  “Oh!” she gasped, clearly just realizing she was traipsing about in next to nothing. She grabbed a silk robe and donned it quickly, almost flying from the room without looking back.

  He could do nothing but watch her go.

  * * *

  Colette rushed down the narrow passage and out into the pale light of dawn, gulping air as if she had nearly suffocated. What was she about? She had lost her mind—it was her only excuse. She was not sure what she had offered Gavin, but she was reasonably certain it would have made her marriage to him good and legal. And nothing would be more disastrous.