Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  The man’s sources were correct about all of this, but he would not say so. “I was not there, sir.”

  “True, true, but your wife was.”

  “Should I call her here so she can answer your questions about that night?”

  “Nay!” he cried out. “Nay! That is not necessary.”

  “I will not be in the same room as that har…” Elizabeth said loudly, rising from her seat as though Marian walked through the door.

  “I would guard your tongue, lady. You speak of my wife,” he said in warning.

  “Elizabeth, cease or you shall be removed!” her father whispered furiously. He understood how close to insult she’d come. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  “I understand how trying this must be for you, Sir Thomas. Pray, continue.”

  “These stories have come and gone in the five years since Beitris’s death, but now other stories have come to light.”

  This was interesting. Dangerous to Marian, but interesting.

  “A cousin confessed on his deathbed to having…” Sir Thomas looked at Jocelyn and then Connor as though choosing his words carefully. “An indelicate relationship with my daughter.”

  One of the men, having a crisis of conscience and wishing to die in peace, had confessed. “Surely not?”

  “To our shame, aye. I only consider it to have any merit because he was facing the Almighty and did not want that sin on his soul.”

  Duncan fought to keep any accusations or information within him. If he could say nothing, mayhap this would be over?

  “Unfortunate deaths. Deathbed confessions. Falls from grace. Illicit affairs. None of this sounds as though Duncan is involved. What exactly do you need of him?” Connor asked.

  “You recently married Marian Robertson,” he said. “Marian has a daughter.”

  Duncan said nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing.

  “Although we have not been permitted to see her…”

  “As I said, she is Duncan’s child now and he was not here to give or withhold his permission,” Connor said with an edge of anger in his voice.

  “Oh, aye, laird. I understand your hesitation. A man has a right to decide about his children, of course.”

  With a certain sense of irony, Duncan realized that was exactly what this man was trying to do.

  “No one can remember Marian giving birth to a babe, either before or after she left Dunalastair. I wondered if you knew of anyone who might.”

  “Have you spoken to the Robertson, Sir Thomas? These questions you raise are about the man’s wife and sister.”

  Did they not realize the trouble if they did discover Ciara was Beitris’s bairn? Even with the disclosure, the treaty between the MacLeries and Robertsons would stand now, but any ties between the Erskines and the Robertsons would be broken and worse, their daughter’s good name thrown into disgrace.

  Now he truly realized Marian’s quandary.

  “He will not speak to us about this matter, sir. We have not been on good terms since Beitris’s death.”

  “So, what do you want from me? What is there that I could have personal knowledge of and not answer through hearsay or repeating the words of others?”

  Sir Thomas took a breath then, glanced over at his daughter and Jocelyn and then just barked out his question.

  “Did Marian Robertson come to your bed a virgin or could she truly have given birth to the bairn she claims as hers?”

  It all came down to one question. His honor, his word, the trust of his laird and clan, all of it depended on his answer to one question.

  The chamber grew quiet and every person there stared at him, waiting on the word he would give and the results were nothing more than life and death. He looked at Connor and read the sympathy there, for he had made similar decisions and found himself damned by many for the choice he’d made. Jocelyn’s eyes were filled with tears—for him? For Marian? He kenned not which, but he could feel the pain in her heart as he was faced with this choice.

  There would be repercussions and consequences for years to come because of his choice, but Duncan realized that there really was no choice for him in this matter. The truth was the truth….

  But love was more than that.

  “I took no virgin to my marriage bed,” he said softly.

  “On your honor as the MacLerie’s man?”

  “You have my word.”

  Elizabeth gasped at his words, but Sir Thomas’s disappointment was palpable. He sensed a good purpose in the man, but Duncan could not think about the past now. Marian deserved a life of her own and her friend deserved to rest in peace, content that her bairn was protected by the only person who could.

  Jocelyn sagged against Connor then, looking paler than she had and signaling that she needed rest. Connor stood and lifted her into his arms.

  “Sir Thomas, please seek refreshments in the hall. My men are readying your horses for your journey home,” Connor said. “I must see my wife to her chambers and I will return.”

  Connor leaned closer as he walked by Duncan. “Wait for me here,” he said. “The daft woman insisted on being present and now look!”

  In a few moments the room had cleared and Duncan waited on Connor’s return. The movements of someone behind the servant’s screen in the corner surprised him, but the man who stepped out was even more of a surprise.

  “I did not think you capable of sitting a horse this soon, laird,” Duncan said.

  Iain Robertson walked closer. “May we call a truce, Peacemaker?”

  “Peacemaker no more, I fear,” Duncan answered. “But you can have your truce.”

  “Why no longer?”

  “I have given a false oath, as we both ken. How can I be trusted again?”

  “Only a handful ken that it was false,” Iain pointed out.

  “Aye, but I ken it, and that is all that matters.”

  “Why did you do it then?”

  “I love her, Iain. As simple as that. I could not allow her suffering to continue and be made worse by losing her daughter.”

  “Beitris’s daughter,” he said.

  “Marian’s daughter, put into her hands and into her heart by her dearest friend.”

  Iain did not meet his gaze then, instead staring off into the distance. The past would forever lie on his shoulders.

  “Why did you do it? You owe me at least that much.”

  Iain walked over and sat in the chair just vacated by Connor. “I was a weak man. I thought I could change. The only good thing I did was to put her in your possession.”

  “And now? Have you changed? Is this talk of a new marriage true?”

  “I will not marry, Duncan. We both ken that, but I think I have more control over the man I am.” Iain stood then, winced in pain and then smiled. “But my brother Padruig shows every sign of being a good husband and a better laird, so I have no fears for the Clan Robertson.

  “You should go to her,” his brother-by-marriage suggested. “She has been in your chambers waiting to hear the outcome, thinking she kens the outcome, and would probably like to hear it from you instead of others.”

  “Are you staying here at Lairig Dubh?”

  “I do not want to get back on a horse for some time, so I have accepted Connor’s invitation to stay.”

  Duncan walked to the door, intent on getting to Marian as quickly as possible, but Iain called his name.

  “Do not forget that she makes you a wealthy man.”

  “I already am a wealthy man, Iain. I did not need your gold to persuade in this.” Years of receiving commissions for his work for other clans had given him great wealth.

  “What will you do with it then?”

  “I think we will hold it for Ciara, since our first daughter together will inherit so much from her mother’s family.”

  “Your first daughter?”

  “Aye,” he said turning away. “The one I plan on making with her this very night.”

  Rurik still stood by the door, arguing with Marg
riet about whether or not she could enter and speak to Marian. Duncan walked up and pushed him out of the way to get inside.

  Marian sat at the table, but her head lay on her arms and her eyes were closed. Shushing the two of them and closing the door in their curious faces, he walked quietly to her side and brushed the hair from her face. He touched her cheek and then slid his finger along her chin, waiting for her to wake. He was about to resort to more provocative measures when her eyes fluttered open and she saw him.

  “Duncan,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Why are you here?” She looked past him. “Have they taken Ciara?”

  “Nay, and they will not. She is your daughter, Marian, and could not be more so if you had given birth to her.”

  She gasped. “What has happened?”

  “You said you wanted a husband who chose you above all else, Marian.” He guided her to stand and pulled her close. “I am that husband. You are first in my heart and in my soul and more important to me than my honor.”

  “Nay!” she cried. “I did not ask for you to lie for me, Duncan. It will eat at you and you will hate me for all you give up for me.”

  “Shhhhh,” he soothed. “As a man of honor I could not stand by and watch you suffer more pain because of others. I could not allow your friend to be shamed after her death. I could not allow another innocent to be taken from the only mother she has known.”

  “Duncan,” she said softly. “You lied for me. I am sorry.”

  He slipped his arm under her legs and carried her into the bedchamber. Once there, he undressed her and himself and they fell onto the bed wrapped around each other. He touched her in all the places that made her sigh and gasp and moan until their bodies screamed for release. Then he thrust deep inside her and moved farther still until she screamed out her pleasure. With a hand under her bottom, he lifted her up and plunged to her womb.

  “Be my wife forever?” he asked, staring into her eyes and praying that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “Aye, Duncan,” she whispered. “Forever.”

  It took but one more thrust before his seed spilled there inside her, but the feel of her tightness surrounding him while he found release was exquisite. He held her there, not wanting to leave the warmth of her body yet.

  Sometime later when they could both speak, she asked about what had transpired in the solar.

  “I did not actually lie to him, Marian.”

  “You did not? I thought you told him I was not a virgin?”

  He rolled over his side and dragged the sheets down so he could look on her breasts as they talked.

  “’Twas more of a prediction really,” he said, reaching out to tease the rosy tips of her breasts with the back of his hand.

  “You are now a soothsayer?” Marian asked, reaching out to touch his body now.

  The sheets were tossed back and they were teasing each other to arousal when he realized he had not told her what he’d said.

  “I said that I took no virgin to my marriage bed.”

  Her indrawn breath as he moved his fingers between her legs spoke of success. Her hand around his hardness guaranteed it.

  “And I plan that you will not be a virgin when we say our marriage vows and consummate those vows in my bed.”

  She laughed and after so much heartache it lightened his soul. “You are just twisting the words, Peacemaker.”

  “’Tis what I do best, wife.”

  Epilogue

  The spring day dawned sunny and clear-skied and everyone proclaimed that it was a good sign. Father Micheil had called the banns for three weeks and the chapel door and altar were decorated with fresh spring blossoms of all colors and fragrances.

  Inside Broch Dubh, the cook and his helpers worked on the foods that would make up the wedding feast. In the village, some of the women placed seeds and other fertility charms around the door of their new cottage and in the bed where they would consummate their vows. All stood ready for the marriage of Marian Robertson and Duncan MacLerie.

  Except the bride, who knelt over a chamber pot heaving out the contents of her stomach.

  “It must be something I ate,” she said to the women who stood smiling around her.

  “’Twas not something you ate, Marian,” Jocelyn said, smiling. Her mirth did not fit the disgusting situation as she leaned over and heaved once more.

  “It must be my nerves, after all this is marriage and not something temporary,” she said, wiping her mouth with the damp cloth Margaret offered.

  “’Tis not a nervous condition, either,” Margriet said, her own large belly keeping her from getting too close.

  “Can it be the sickness?” she asked. “This is the third day in a row…” Marian stopped and looked at the three women who stood grinning at her like silly fools.

  “Nay, it cannot be!” she said, sitting back on her heels. “I am with child?” she asked, holding her hands on her still-flat stomach. “I am with child?”

  She was so stunned by the thought of it that she forgot she was supposed to already have borne a child. “I mean I am with child again?”

  Jocelyn helped her to her feet and called in a servant to take the pot away. “It should not be a surprise, Marian. MacLerie men seem to have no trouble begetting bairns.”

  Considering that these women had given birth to ten bairns among them with another one, or two more expected in the coming months, fruitfulness was not a MacLerie problem.

  “Does Duncan ken?” Margriet asked.

  They had been living apart, at Father Micheil’s request, since the banns had been called and Duncan was not happy with the arrangement or the forced celibacy. She’d not spoken to him since the previous day and not on matters involving the making of bairns. She expected no rest this night when they returned to their new cottage in the village.

  “Nay,” she said, tugging her new gown into place. “I did not ken until just now.”

  “You should tell him now. ’Twill brighten his spirits.”

  They put the last of the flowers in her hair, which cascaded loosely over her shoulders and down her back. Walking with her from their chamber, they guided her to Duncan where he stood drinking with their husbands. The men all stopped and stared as she approached and Marian could feel the heat of a blush creep up into her cheeks from such an appraisal. Duncan held out his hands to her and examined her from head to toes.

  “You are a sight to behold, lass,” he said before drawing her close. “And you are mine.”

  She’d thought on how to tell him and he’d just presented her the opportunity. “Aye, Duncan, we are yours.”

  “Where is the little lass?” he asked, obviously looking for Ciara.

  “Nay, Duncan,” she said, taking his hand and laying it on her belly where soon he would be able to feel his bairn growing. “We. Are yours.”

  She could tell the moment he realized what she meant for he leaned his head back and howled out the news. Then he scooped her up in his arms and swung around and around until Jocelyn called for him to stop.

  “’Tis not a good idea to spin her around just now,” Jocelyn advised. “Her stomach just stopped heaving.”

  Connor and Jocelyn led the others away so she could steal a private moment with him before they took their vows.

  “You are pleased then?” she asked.

  “I had planned it,” he answered proudly.

  “On the bairn?”

  “Aye. There is no one who more needs children of her own than you, Marian. I wanted you to ken the joy that Jocelyn and Margriet and the others ken. Ciara will always be your firstborn, whether you birthed her or not, but this will be our first.”

  “And tonight?” Would they forgo the pleasures of the marriage bed now that she was carrying?

  “I plan on taking you to my bed and ravishing you the whole night through. Carrying or not, you will think it was our first time together.” He shook his head. “Better than our first time together,” he promised instead.

 
He kissed her then and it was filled with promises made and promises kept. Leaning back, he smiled at her.

  “I told you that I made a prediction that day to Beitris’s father. You do not come to my marriage bed a virgin.”

  She laughed then, and he held her close for a moment.

  “I choose you today, Marian. Above all others. Above everything else in my life. I choose you.”

  The laird stood a short distance away watching as his cousin and friend discovered one of the most incredible joys of life—fathering a child with the woman you love. Connor turned to Jocelyn and saw the same expression on her face that he wore.

  “You are greetin’, lass,” he said, reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Surely, you knew about the bairn already?”

  “Aye, Connor.” Her eyes shone through the tears now and she smiled. “We knew,” she said with a nod to the other women standing with their own husbands, “but could not speak of it until Marian realized it herself.”

  “And did she share with you that this is her first?” he asked, waiting for his wife’s reaction.

  “Did Duncan tell you?” Jocelyn whispered as she gazed around as though making certain their words could not be heard.

  “Nay, love. Duncan revealed nothing to me. I simply watched Marian during these last months. ’Twas clear to me.” Connor drew her into his embrace and kissed her, understanding in that moment that she continued to amaze him. “But you should have told your laird when you discovered that truth about her.”

  “There are some things a laird need not know…or know first.” Jocelyn pulled his head down to her face and kissed his mouth. “If I had thought her a danger to the clan…” Her words drifted off into another kiss.

  Connor accepted her kiss as her apology for her actions and pressed for more, but her words bothered him. They touched on the quandary that had plagued since even Rurik’s return from his journey to the Orkneys and through this situation with Duncan’s behavior.

  Why would a man lie or keep secrets from his laird?

  Now looking at his cousins and their wives and then back into the eyes of the woman he loved, Connor knew the answer—a man who loved a woman with his whole heart and soul would do anything, even lie, to protect her.