Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

“I told her the truth—that we would be traveling with you to your home and live there with you.”

  “As husband and wife?” Duncan did not ken why, but it was important to hear her say the words. Through each introduction here, to the MacCallum and his son and others in his clan, he’d presented her as his wife, though she’d never yet said the words about him.

  She blushed then before answering. “Aye, sir, I told her we were husband and wife.”

  “Good,” he said. “’Tis good for her to ken how it stands between us, Marian.”

  Although his body wanted very much to show her exactly how it stood between them, he still had business to discuss with the laird who sat waiting on his return to the table.

  “I will return after I finish speaking to the laird,” he said as he turned, nearly missing the confused expression on her face. “I said I would not bed you in the same room as your daughter,” he offered. “But I will be sleeping here.”

  Before she could argue, he closed the door and walked back to the hall. Hamish caught him before he got too far.

  “Ye have a settled look aboot ye. Is all well?” Hamish asked.

  “I think it will be well, Hamish. I need to sort this all with Connor and hear his opinion on the contracts.”

  He’d not shared the personal details about his wedding night with anyone, not even Hamish, and he would not until he had the opportunity to figure out where the pieces of this puzzle fit. But, by his word and especially by his deed, she was his wife and, by the wording of the contracts, Ciara his daughter and that was how he planned to treat them.

  The other side of that argument, to treat her with less respect than he would if he had chosen her to wife, would be a grave insult—to her brother, to his laird and to his honor. An insult that could end the treaty and bring dishonor to everyone involved. An insult that would end in war. An insult he would not offer.

  So, though Marian did not realize yet that he took his responsibilities seriously, she would learn.

  Soon.

  This very night.

  Some hours had passed since dinner and she’d found it difficult to sleep. Oh, aye, exhaustion claimed her, but then she awoke with every noise. And in a keep the size of this one, with the number of people who lived here, it seemed they never settled down for the night.

  She heard the door open then. Lying still next to Ciara, she waited to see what he would do. His steps were light and quick and, after some rustling of clothing, she felt the blankets lift and tried to prepare herself. Without a sound, he slipped in next to her and lay on his side at her back.

  He still wore his long shirt.

  She still wore her chemise.

  When Marian began to shift over toward Ciara to give him more room, he slid his arm around her and held her there. As more of his body spooned behind hers, she felt his warmth seep through the thin layers of cloth between them.

  She also felt the growing hardness there and held her breath at both the disappointment and the anticipation in her heart. ’Twas his right to take her whenever and wherever, but he’d given his word to her and he was about to break it. Just when she was about to remind him, he leaned his head to hers and whispered in her ear.

  “Hush, now. Sleep.”

  Which, if his snoring was any proof, he did within moments, leaving her wide-awake and surrounded by his heat, his masculine smell and his body.

  Trapped effectively between him behind her and Ciara in front, Marian tried to let go of the nervousness that filled her and listened to his rhythmic breathing. Soon, as the warmth soothed her aching bones and the strangeness of lying in a man’s arms eased, Marian could feel the pull of sleep on her and she gave up the fight.

  This was not so bad a way to spend the night.

  This was a hell of a way to spend the night.

  Unable to move without waking her because he held her so close and unable to sleep, well, because he held her so close, Duncan lay there, forcing his breathing to a steady pace and trying not to notice the enticing breast under his hand nor the welcoming place between her legs where his hardness now rested. He knew the moment she gave up the fight and slept deeply in his embrace.

  If only they were alone.

  If only they were naked.

  If only he hadn’t given his word to calm her damn fears!

  And that was the true reason behind any hesitation on his part. He would fight the temptation she was in this moment because he was, above else, a man of his word.

  Although it only seemed like moments since he’d closed his eyes, the sun streaming in through the slat in the shuttered windows spoke of a day fully dawned. Duncan could move now, and he did, turning on his back and lifting his head. Marian now lay on the other side of the bed and she curled into a ball so that he almost could not see her face. Realizing that Ciara was not there, he began to sit up and found her standing at the bedside staring at him.

  “Good morn, Ciara,” he whispered, pointing to her sleeping mother and then touching his finger to his lips to warn her off making too much noise.

  “Dinna worry, Duncan,” she said. “When Mama falls to sleep, nothing wakes her.”

  Looking past her, Duncan saw her toys spread around the floor and realized she’d been playing quietly there without waking either of them. Pulling the edge of his shirt down onto his thighs, he sat up and then got out of bed. With no wish to expose himself to the child, he did not avail himself of the chamber pot sitting beneath the wooden table there.

  “What game do you play?” he asked, wrapping his plaid back in place around his hips and over his shoulders. He would have to relieve himself soon.

  “The black horse chases the others,” she answered, showing him how one followed the other. “Tavis promised he would make me more.”

  The innocent smile rewarded him ten times over for having his man carve the small wooden animal. “Only horses? Or do you not wish for some other animal? Mayhap a goat or pig?” Duncan swallowed against the growing tightness in his throat.

  How and why had Iain allowed this child, his niece, to grow up in such poverty when he had the means to make her life much more comfortable? Even if he had not known their circumstances while his father still ruled the clan, he could have made a difference once he’d allowed her back. Or he could have paid to make their life better somewhere other than Dunalastair if Duncan was correct about his suspicions.

  Then, why had he not done so?

  Watching the child play on the floor, he worried more over the tingling in the back of his head, the one that came to warn him when something was amiss. Granted, having his sister with her terrible reputation in the keep would be untenable, but other arrangements could have, and should have, been made for her.

  So, why had he not?

  “…Duncan?” The soft voice followed by a sharp tug on his hand. “Duncan?” Ciara whispered.

  “Oh, aye?” He shook off his own thoughts and looked down at the girl.

  “Could Tavis make a pig?”

  Duncan smiled. “Pigs are his favorite animals. Mayhap he could show you the laird’s pigs?”

  She jumped up and gathered all her toys together, throwing them quickly in the sack she used to carry them. “Can we go now?” Ciara crossed the distance to the door and looked at him. “I am ready.”

  Not certain that sending her daughter off at dawn to see the laird’s pigs would be acceptable, Duncan thought of waking Marian to ask permission. Remembering the dark bruises of exhaustion beneath her blue eyes, he decided not. Standing and securing his belt, he then tugged on his boots and slid his dagger back into its scabbard. Although the MacLerie’s diplomat now, he spent too many years training and fighting to ever be without a weapon. Expecting no trouble, he could leave his broadsword in the keep.

  Accepting Ciara’s hand, they sneaked quietly from the chamber and went to find Tavis. Duncan had other plans for the morn that did not involve MacCallum pigs, so he led Ciara to where his men broke their fast in the hall. After ordering
a bath for Marian, he explained the situation to Tavis who, in good humor and with much experience handling bairns and children, agreed to serve as the lass’s escort for a few hours.

  Sitting at the table with the rest of his men, he spoke to Hamish and the steward about using a cart for the rest of the journey for Marian and Ciara. After a bowl of thick, steaming porridge and a cup of watered ale, he asked for another bowl and cup to take to Marian.

  “A well-married mon, are ye then?” asked Hamish.

  “A small courtesy, that is all,” he answered.

  “I think more than courtesy is involved,” said Farlen. “Now wi’ the lass gone, I think we ken the reasons.”

  The chuckling made its way through his men, but he did not join them. Hamish who’d begun this then made it worse.

  “We dinna expect ye to pass up the benefits of having a wife simply because ye didna choose her,” he said. “She is a comely lass, though no’ what we expected.”

  Duncan waved them back to their food, unwilling to discuss Marian where they could be overheard. He stood, taking the porridge and ale with him and motioned for Hamish to walk with him. The servants should have the bath ready in their chamber by now.

  “The stories have been exaggerated,” Duncan finally answered, revealing some, but not all of it. For all they knew, he spoke of her appearance.

  “Aye and nay, Duncan. Some see the face she wears, but some would see past that,” Hamish offered. “Can ye?”

  They stopped just outside the door and he peered at the man he called friend. Hamish had been married for a dozen years to Connor’s half sister and had served as overseer of the village and farms, so he had many years of dealing with people, especially women. And mayhap understanding them?

  Duncan shrugged. “There is more at risk here, Hamish, than simply my kenning the truth of my new wife.” He paused, trying to decide whether or not to say more. “There may be things at work behind this that are dangerous to the clan.”

  “I dinna doubt it, but she is yer wife now and ye need to stand by her,” Hamish whispered furiously.

  “I hope it will not come to that, Hamish. But, for now, she does not trust me to tell me the truth and without that, I do not see a way out of this.”

  “And ye? Do ye trust her?” There was a gleam in Hamish’s eyes that gave the answer they both knew. “Weel, then. Now ye ken what ye must do.”

  “Trust her? ’Tis more easily said than done, I fear.”

  “Teach her that ye are a mon she can trust.”

  Hamish kenned his ways. In any negotiations, first trust had to be established, then work could begin. His main objective in sending out men to gather information before proceeding with any talks was to discover some common ground between the two sides, the two opponents. The more knowledge he had in hand when discussions began, the sooner he could find that which both of those involved held to be important.

  They’d reached the door and he stood there holding the bowl and cup and realized that he was doing exactly that with Marian—making small promises and keeping them, each one a small step in giving her a way to trust him. And when the time came for her to trust him with that larger truth, the one that ruled their lives in so many ways, he hoped she would finally have enough faith to share it with him.

  He gave the bowl to Hamish while he lifted the latch of the door and then took it back before entering. His plan was underway and he’d already chosen the common ground on which he believed they could proceed. Marian’s frank acceptance and even interest in it guided him in the choice. And, with Ciara occupied outside with Tavis and his men sent off on tasks that would keep their attentions elsewhere, now was the time to begin exploring and advancing toward trust.

  “’Tis exactly what I plan to do,” he said as he closed the door behind him and turned to find Marian climbing out of her bath.

  Chapter Eleven

  If she was surprised to see him, his shock over her naked appearance was more than that. He’d interrupted her as she stood in the wooden tub, reaching for a drying cloth on the floor. And, since their wedding night took place mostly in the dark and in a hasty manner, her body now presented to him in the light of day stunned him.

  And that randy part of him took notice.

  Creamy white skin, the shade that blushes to a mouth-watering pale pink, generous rose-tipped breasts and long, shapely limbs enticed him. Duncan noticed that hair between her legs did not match that on her head, but before he could ask, she’d grabbed the cloth and held its meager length and width in front of herself.

  “Ah, your pardon, Marian,” he stuttered out, in no way the confident man he thought to enter the room as. “I brought you some porridge and ale.”

  Duncan put the bowl and cup down on the table and turned back to her. She’d not moved an inch from her spot, but he recognized the panicked glint in her eyes. Panic he did not want to see there.

  “Here now, let me help you.” He held out his hand to her in a slow manner as he took only one step toward her. “There is water splashed on the floor and you could slip.” She hesitated for only a second before taking it.

  Good. Not so startled or frightened of him, he thought.

  He found the larger cloth folded on a stool, shook it open and draped it over her shoulders. He did not want her covered, nay if he was successful only his body would cover hers shortly, but he did want her comfortable in his presence. If the cloth barrier accomplished that, he would use it…for now.

  “Do you mind if I use the water?” he asked once she’d dropped the small cloth in favor of the larger one.

  Her gaze moved from his face to the tub and back to him, this time looking up and down his body as though determining his size. The intensity and frank curiosity of her examination only helped to inflame his body, sending waves of heat and anticipation through his blood and into…

  Marian turned away then and reached for the bowl of thick porridge. He’d trapped her between the bed and the tub with her clean clothes sitting on the other side of the chambers from her. Nowhere to go, nothing to do but to eat the food or to watch him or both.

  “You may not fit in that tub,” she said when her eyes met his once more.

  He thought of several replies and let each one go until a touch of mischief crossed his mind. She was correct in her assessment—he would never fit in such a tub—however that did not mean he could not use it. He released his belt, dropped his woolen tartan on the floor and leaned down to loosen and remove his boots.

  Marian’s gaze still rested on his face as he found another bucket of steaming water and added it to that already in the tub. He tugged his shirt over his head and stepped into the tub, standing and not even trying to hide his erection from her view. She’d managed to lift a spoonful of porridge to her mouth, all the farther it got, as she stared at him.

  This was more difficult than he thought it would be, teasing her into his bed. It loosened his own lust and he dreaded the possibility that he would simply take her again. He shifted in the tub, turning his body until he did not face her, and washed his shoulders and arms and chest with the cloth and soft soap.

  Marian took advantage of his turning away to retrieve her clothes. After a sip of ale to wash down the porridge that had nearly blocked her throat at the sight of his tall, muscular, very-naked, very-aroused male body, she put down the bowl and cup, lifted the bottom of the drying cloth that she’d circled around her body and walked past him to find her chemise and gown. She’d gotten halfway when he said her name. Looking at him, she saw the cloth in his hand and realized what he wanted.

  Her mouth went dry at the thought of washing him, even his back, but the rest of her surged with heat as she stepped closer. From the expression in his eyes, they both knew where this would lead. Did she want this?

  From the way he’d held her through the night, his hardness against her bottom, Marian accepted that he could control his lust when he needed to, and since he’d given his word, he needed to. Now, though, there was
no such restraint for him. ’Twas no surprise to her that he wanted to bed her, but now, gazing into his eyes as he held out what was simply and clearly an invitation, she also knew that she could refuse.

  She wanted this.

  All the talk that women passed around about the whole bedding experience, all of the claims men made about tupping a woman, all the comments thrown at her over the years about what a harlot could do and did to a man, all of that, played into her decision. Then there was his own promise and her own curiosity about the way it could be between a man and a woman. All of that convinced her ’twas past time to learn if it could be as good or as bad as all the talk.

  She wanted Duncan.

  The pleasure he’d given her with his mouth and hands spoke of so much more and she wanted it to be him that gave it to her. Her body ached now with the memories of how he’d touched her and rubbed her…and, yes, how he’d even tasted and licked her.

  She wanted it all and she wanted it now.

  Marian took the cloth and dipped it into the water that only reached as high as his knees. When she tucked the edge of the drying cloth in so she could use both hands, the tenderness of her breasts surprised her. They pressed against the cloth, tightened by the rubbing of the cloth and the desire that now raced through her at the thought of touching Duncan’s body. She lifted her gaze to his and the smile that tilted the corners of his mouth most attractively made any last remnants of resistance or hesitation melt away.

  Once assured that she was a willing participant in this, Duncan turned his back to her and waited for her first touch. His breath grew ragged and tight as he heard her step closer.

  Would it be his back? Or would she first touch his shoulders or his arms? Or his arse? Just when he was about to turn to discover why she delayed, he felt the lightest touch between his shoulders. She squeezed the cloth to release some of the lather and then spread it over his skin, in widening circles.

  He could not believe that he stood naked before her, allowing her, nay nearly begging her, to touch him. And she did. It aroused him even more, if that were possible, and he fought not to turn, take her in his arms and to the bed. This needed to go well between them for many reasons, not the least of which was to help her to begin to trust him. The greatest of which was to find out if she brought danger to his clan.