by Connie Mason
Entranced, she clapped along with the others when the performance ended. She didn’t notice when Ross caught Gizela’s eye and nodded. In fact, she was far from ready when the old woman came up to her and touched her arm.
“ ’Tis time, lass. I am called Gizela. I will take you to the laird’s chamber and answer any questions you might have.”
Gillian skewered Ross with a look that would have turned him to cinders had he been a lesser man. “The celebration hasna ended yet.”
Ross’s gaze turned dark. “’Tis finished for you, wife. We will long be abed before the celebration ends.”
Gizela pulled gently on her arm. “Come along, lass.”
When Gillian balked, Tearlach leaned over and said, “Do your duty, daughter. Your clan is depending upon your obedience to your husband.”
Silently fuming, Gillian followed the old woman up the stairs to the solar, through a sitting room, and into the sleeping chamber. The chamber was too masculine for Gillian’s tastes, but she hoped MacKenna would relegate her to lesser quarters once she did her “duty” to him and he replaced her with his leman.
“Let me help you disrobe and climb into bed, lass,” Gizela said. “The men will be here soon.”
“Men? More than one?” Gillian squeaked.
“ ’Tis the custom. The laird’s kinsmen will carry him up and put him to bed.”
“With me?”
Gizela chuckled. “Of course with you.” She turned Gillian around and began untying tapes until she had removed everything but Gillian’s shift, slippers, and stockings. Then she led her to the bed. “Sit, lass.”
The picture of Ross’s kinsmen carrying him to bed was so ludicrous that Gillian obeyed without thinking. Gizela removed Gillian’s slippers and stockings, but when she started to lift the hem of the shift, Gillian refused to part with it.
“Where is my night rail?”
“ ’Tis your wedding night, lass; you doona need one. Lift your arms and I will have you tucked into bed in no time. Then you can ask me anything you like.”
“I will keep my shift,” Gillian said firmly. Her eyes darted about the chamber. The room was curiously bereft of weapons, highly unusual in a warrior’s bedchamber. A warrior usually kept his sword close at hand.
Gizela shrugged. “Have it your way, lass, but you ken you will end up naked sooner rather than later.” She lifted the covers. “In with you, now.”
Gillian obeyed, if only to get rid of the old woman. But Gizela seemed in no hurry to depart. She found a hairbrush on a nearby chest and returned to the bed. “I will brush your hair for you, lass. Tomorrow you will have a proper maid, but the laird thought you should have someone to answer your questions tonight. So ask away while I brush.”
“I ... doona know what to ask.”
“Do you know how the mating takes place?” Gizela asked bluntly.
“I’ve seen horses.”
“Oh, aye, horses.”
“The female screams and carries on when she is mounted, so I assume it will be painful for me as well.”
“Only the first time, lass. But if I know our laird, there will be pleasure, too.”
Gillian digested that while Gizela slid the brush smoothly through her waist-length hair.
“Your hair truly is a living flame,” the old woman murmured. “I saw you and the laird surrounded by flames in a vision. I told him if he welcomed the flame, he would conquer it. If he failed, it would devour him.”
Gillian shuddered. Are you a witch?”
“A witch? Nay, I am a healer. If I say strange things sometimes, ’tis because of what I feel and see. You d do well to heed me.”
She ran the brush through Gillian’s hair one last time and rose. “I vow you know all you need to know, lass. Trust your husband to show you the rest.”
“I will never trust a MacKenna,” Gillian maintained. In fact, she intended to jump out of bed as soon as Gizela left and meet the MacKenna on her feet, not lying helplessly on her back.
“I will leave you now, lass,” Gizela said as she slipped through the door.
Gillian leaped from bed and fumbled about for her clothes.
“Are you going somewhere?” Gillian’s head snapped around toward the voice. She was surprised to see her husband’s leman standing in the door opening.
“What do you want?”
“Do you know who I am?”
Aye, you are the MacKenna’s leman.”
Seana appeared startled. “Did Ross tell you about me?”
“He did, and I wish you joy of him.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I want naught to do with your lover. You may have him with my blessing.”
Seana preened. “You doona know what you are missing. Ross is an extraordinary lover. I have had none better. How many lovers have you had, Gillian MacKay? Is Angus Sinclair your lover?”
“If not for MacKenna, I would have wed Angus.”
Seana glared at Gillian. “If not for you, Ross MacKenna would be my husband. Doona think I am leaving Ravenscraig because you have married the laird. Think you I will be replaced in Ross’s affection by a woman not fit to lick his boots? Heed me well, Gillian MacKay: Ross is mine. ’Tis my comfort he will seek at the end of the day. Interfere with me and what belongs to me, and you will suffer the consequences.”
Gillian’s first inclination had been to be lenient toward Seana, but after hearing her out, Gillian changed her mind. Obviously the woman was a troublemaker. MacKenna’s leman had made it perfectly clear that she would resort to violence to get what she wanted. Gillian was just perverse enough to want to thwart Seana’s plans.
A commotion on the staircase alerted the women to the bridegroom’s imminent arrival. Cursing beneath her breath, Seana made a hasty exit as Gillian, too flustered to face all those men in only her shift, dove into bed and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Scant seconds later, the door burst open.
The sight of the MacKenna being carried on the shoulders of his kinsmen almost undid her. She wanted to howl with laughter, but was too wary of what came next to succumb to the whim.
“Put me down, lads.” Ross laughed. “I doona want to look foolish before my bride.”
“You can carry him back out, for all I care,” Gillian muttered.
Ross sent her a sharp look but said naught as he was set upon his feet and quickly divested of his clothing. Gillian gasped and looked away, but not quickly enough. She saw more than she wanted to see. His manhood, even at rest, was impressive. Gillian could not deny that everything about Ross MacKenna was magnificent.
If he wasn’t the enemy, she might be more amenable to the marriage. But how could she welcome into her bed a man she had been taught to hate? The man whose clan had killed her brothers?
“In you go, lad,” Gordo said as he lifted a corner of the bedcovers.
A round of laughter ensued as Ross slid into bed. Shocked when she realized a roomful of men were leering at her, Gillian scooted as far away from the huge, nude body as she could get. From the corner of her eye she noted that it wasn’t just Ross’s kinsmen who had gathered in the bedchamber. Among the MacKennas were a handful of MacKays, including her father and brothers.
Horrified, Gillian wondered if everyone intended to stay and watch Ross claim her. She knew of the barbaric custom and raged against it.
“Get out! All of you,” she demanded.
“You heard the lass,” Tearlach said as he shooed everyone from the chamber. “A wedding night is a time for privacy.” Once the room was cleared, he retreated through the door and closed it behind him.
“You took the words out of my mouth,” Ross said once they were alone. “No one needs to know what goes on in our private chambers.”
Gillian sent him a speculative look. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course, did I nae just say so?”
“Then we really doona need to do what is expected of us, do we?”
Reaching over, Ross traced the line
of her cheekbone with a finger. “Aye, we do. Your da expects to see the bloody sheet flying from the gallery in the morning.”
She jerked away. “I will happily cut my finger to provide Da with the proof he needs.” She held out her hand. “Give me your dirk.”
“Nay, lass, do you take me for a fool? I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.” He sent her a lopsided grin. “Besides, there isna a weapon in the chamber. I had them all removed.”
“You doona trust me,” Gillian accused.
“You’ve the right of it, lass.”
Gillian tried again. “Mayhap you would prefer Seana in your bed.”
Ross sent her a strange look. “Nay, I wouldna. You are my wife; you are the only woman who belongs in my bed. I doona think you will find the task burdensome.”
He wound a lock of long red hair about his fist and tugged gently. “Come closer, lass.”
Gillian had no choice but to obey, for resistance would bring pain. He kept tugging until she was pressed against him, the heat of his skin scorching her.
“What is this?” he asked, grabbing a handful of material.
“My shift,” she said defensively.
“Och, lass, you’ve no need of it.”
He ripped it down the front, tore it off of her, and tossed it to the floor.
“Much better,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
Chapter Four
Ross had just settled into the kiss when he felt a sharp pain and tasted blood. The wildcat had bitten his lip! He reared back, anger pulsing through him. Everything about Gillian was wild and untamed. The thought of subduing that wildness, of bringing it under his control, sent a shaft of desire through his body.
“Why did you do that?”
She attempted to shield her bareness from his gaze. “I canna do this. You are the enemy.
He pushed her hands aside and pinned them above her head. “You can and you will. I am your husband, not your enemy. Our clans are allies now. If becoming allies is good enough for your father and brothers, it should be good enough for you. Doona fight me, lass, for you canna win.”
Ross’s sensual gaze traversed the length of her body and back. “You have an extraordinary body.” With one hand he drew a finger down her rib cage and felt her muscles contract. He watched her closely, trying to read her expression. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth; he smiled when he heard the sudden intake of her breath. She wasn’t as unmoved by him as she pretended.
Ross gently traced his finger down the silken skin of a surprisingly muscular thigh. “One doesna expect to find muscles in a woman,” he murmured.
“I trained with my brothers,” Gillian replied, trying to squirm away from his touch. “Do you find muscles repulsive?” she asked hopefully.
“I find naught but your belligerent attitude repulsive, wife. And I intend to change that verra soon.”
He moved his hand upward, cupping the satiny weight of her breast in his palm and dragging his thumb across her nipple. Gillian closed her eyes and arched upward, as if fighting against Ross’s attempt at arousal.
When he lowered his head and laved the nipple with the rough pad of his tongue, a raw cry burst from Gillian’s throat. “What are you doing to me?”
Ross raised his head. “Making love to you, lass. Do you find it enjoyable?”
“Release my arms. I doona like being confined.”
Ross didn’t like holding her arms any more than she liked it. He wanted her to touch him. His body ached to be stroked, even though he couldn’t imagine Gillian actually wanting to touch him unless she had a weapon in her hands. Nevertheless, he released her wrists. He preferred loving her with both hands anyway.
Immediately Gillian raised a fist to him.
“Doona do it, Gillian,” Ross warned. “I doona want to hurt you.”
His mouth, now just inches from her lips, lowered. This time there was nothing gentle in his kiss as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and tasted her thoroughly. Before Gillian could bite him again, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, his tongue tangling with hers.
He felt her stiffen; then in slow increments her body softened against his. Ross’s mouth left hers and slid down the slope of her neck, where he brushed teasing kisses against her satiny skin as his hands stroked the sides of her breasts. His mouth continued its downward trek to her nipple; he wound his tongue around it, suckling the tight little bud as his hand teased and caressed the other breast.
“What ... are ... you ... doing?” Gillian repeated on a gasp.
He raised his head. “Do you like it?”
“I ... Nay, like naught you do to me.”
“Liar.”
He moved his hand again, skimming it over her ribs and flat stomach to the fiery curls below her belly, lightly stroking the inside of her thigh.
Gillian felt her resistance slowly ebbing. What kind of man was the MacKenna to burrow through her defenses so quickly? What kind of woman was she to succumb so easily to her enemy? Her body felt heavy, sluggish, his kisses drugging. His mouth and tongue were doing things to her she never imagined possible. And now he was kissing her ... again.
“MacKenna! Stop!”
He ignored her as his fingers began pushing through the downy fleece at the juncture of her thighs, dipping into the damp cleft covered by red curls.
“Nay!” Her voice sounded thready, weak, as weak as her flesh, but not as weak as her resolve. When his finger dipped deep inside the moist heat between her legs, stroking, circling, relentless, she bit her lip to suppress a moan, but she feared she was fooling only herself. Ross’s gaze darkened, intensified, as he watched her.
“Doona hold back, Gillian. Your body belongs to me; I can make it soar whether you wish it or not.”
Gillian gritted her teeth against the pleasure Ross’s hands and mouth were evoking inside her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was feeling anything but disgust. Her hands clenched into fists to keep from touching him. But, oh, how she wanted to feel the texture of his skin, run her fingers through the dark hair covering his chest and ...
She shook her head. Nay, thinking along those lines would be a betrayal of her clan. She was a MacKay, the only MacKay willing to uphold the feud so many had given their lives for. Her father and brothers had gone soft in the head. Didn’t they know there could be no peace between Clan MacKenna and Clan MacKay? Sooner or later MacKenna would break the peace and the feuding would resume.
Her thoughts skittered away when she felt Ross’s tongue touch a place between her thighs that was so sensitive, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The moan she had fought so hard to suppress slipped past her lips as her body arched up into the intimate caress. Never in her life had she felt anything close to this kind of pleasure. It stole her breath and made her body sing.
Gillian tried to buck Ross off of her, but he grasped her hips and held her in place while he worked his dark magic on her. She knew that what he was doing had to be witchcraft, for naught else could make her body feel things completely foreign to her nature.
And then she felt Ross’s tongue dip inside her, in and out, again and again, and Gillian lost the battle she had fought so hard to win. She cried out, letting her thighs fall open as her body thrummed in time to his thrusting tongue. Her hands began to twitch; she was no longer able to control them. Tentatively she touched his shoulders. His body tensed; she heard him groan.
Encouraged, she moved her palms over his back, as far as she could reach. His skin felt smooth and hot. Muscles rippled; tendons bunched beneath her fingertips. Never had she felt anything as arousing as Ross’s skin.
Gillian felt her body hover on the edge of a precipice, a place she had never ventured before. She trembled; she quaked. Pleasure so exquisite it was nearly unbearable built to incredible heights. If Ross didn’t stop what he was doing, she was going to soar off the bed and explode. She grasped his head between her hands to hold it in place, fearing he would stop before she found that exalted pl
ace she was reaching for.
“I want to be inside you when you come,” Ross murmured as he removed his mouth from her and slid up her body.
Gillian cried out a protest and clung to him. How could he do this to her when she was so close? Though she had no idea what she was close to, she knew it would be spectacular.
She felt something hard and hot probe between her legs. She knew she was about to lose her virginity and stiffened.
“Relax, lass; ’twill hurt only this one time. And next time there will be naught but pleasure.”
The pain that followed his words was no more nor less than she had expected, but sharp enough to steal her breath. “Stop; you’re hurting me!”
“ ’Tis done, Gillian; I canna stop now.”
Gillian wondered why his breathing should be shallow, his voice hoarse, when she was the one hurting. Just like horses, the pleasure belonged to the male while the female suffered the indignities of mating. Though she had to admit the pain was easing as she stretched to accommodate the length and thickness of him.
Then Ross began to move in and out, slowly, as if priming her for something grand, something unknown. She fought against it, fearing the loss of her soul if she succumbed.
“Stop!” She gasped.
“I can make this fast or I can give you pleasure. You choose.”
Her eyes widened with disbelief. “You want to give me pleasure? Is that possible?”
He rose up on his elbows and gazed down at her. “You know naught about mating, do you?”
“I’ve seen horses and ...”
He lowered himself until their bodies touched, meshed; her breath caught in her throat. She let it out in a slow hiss as his shaft drove deep inside her and one hand moved between them to a place so sensitive she lurched up against him.
“Aye, do you feel it?” Ross whispered against her lips. “ ’Tis just the beginning, lass.” Then he kissed her, a long, slow joining of their mouths, his tongue thrusting inside, searching restlessly, tasting, demanding.
She began to pant as the jolt of pleasure she felt in her nether regions spread throughout her body Was this the pleasure MacKenna had promised? She wanted naught from him, especially pleasure, she told herself. But there was no help for it. Her body seemed to work separate from her mind. She felt the slow upward spiral of something unspeakably wonderful curl through her.