The Highlander’s Destiny

by Wine, Mary

  She felt him shaking. He was holding himself in check, pressing into her slowly. Her body was tight, resisting the penetration, but she was wet, too.

  And eager.

  “Go on,” she encouraged him. “Let’s be done with this part.”

  He opened his eyes, locking gazes with her.

  “I’m not frightened, Faolan.”

  *

  She wasn’t.

  Faolan felt something tear through him. Whatever it was, it ripped aside the last of his reservations. He gave himself over to the moment, allowing his senses to be filled with Cora’s scent.

  Temptress.

  His…

  He pressed deep. She made a soft sound, and her hands tightened on his upper arms. But she lifted her hips for him, never shifting away.

  He opened his eyes, not wanting to miss even a single detail. The moment was another on a list of things he’d long ago demanded he never even think about. Because reality was too cruel when it smashed his dreams.

  Now, his length was buried deep inside a woman he’d never imagined might be his. She quivered but opened her eyes.

  “Does it get better now?” she asked boldly.

  Faolan felt his lips rise into a grin. He pulled back and pressed forward again. “I’ll make sure it does, lass.”

  The effort cost him. He gritted his teeth and battled the need to rush toward the climax. Cora moved with him. Her passion awakening. The tiny sounds she made threatened to undermine his self-control and yet, at the same time, hardened his resolve to maintain his hold on his own needs until she peaked.

  He held her through the moment, growling as he felt his control shredding and his seed beginning to flow. They strained toward one another, caught in the grip of rapture.

  Faolan rolled to the side but gathered Cora close. He wanted to remain awake, just to savor the time when no one was there but her. To savor the time when he wasn’t less than worthy to claim her. In the morning, there would be judging eyes. Plenty of them. But for now, there was only the scent of Cora’s skin and the sound of her breathing as she fell into a deep sleep.

  *

  Gilmor’s fingers curled into a fist. He wanted to pound it into the tabletop but controlled the effort.

  Matters would be far simpler if the marriage went unconsummated. The Mackenzies were a powerful clan. If Cora conceived, the Mackenzie would want to see it placed in charge of the McKay.

  Faolan was long gone with his bride, though. The McKay Retainers were having a good chuckle over the way their new laird had carried her off. Faolan’s strength was legendary. Malcolm had banished him from the stronghold because he feared Noreen pushing him too far. Following them wouldn’t end in his favor.

  So, there would be no preventing the consummation of the union.

  But that didn’t mean he was without options. Gillmor’s gaze settled on Brynna. She was seated at the end of one of the long tables. As the champion of the mistress, she occupied a spot at the end of the table where she might keep an eye on Cora.

  Brynna was enjoying her supper now that her mistress didn’t require attention. Gilmor had never taken much notice of the girl, for she was a foundling. A McKay who had found her way back into the clan because of her mother’s blood. She was barely accepted. Her prospects among the Retainers were poor at best. She should have lingered in obscurity at the towers, wedding quietly to one of the men sent there.

  Now she was serving the mistress.

  Many would say she had stumbled onto a fine bit of luck.

  Gilmor decided it was precisely what he needed. He finished his supper and went in search of his aunt.

  Chapter Eight

  Yestin and Gainor opened the door of Faolan’s chamber at first light.

  “It’s barely morn, ye bastards,” Faolan growled.

  Cora let out a yelp as she rolled over the far side of the bed. She landed on her feet, and the cold floor connected with them. The sudden chill drove any remains of sleep away as she clamped her mouth shut to keep her teeth from chattering.

  “Here now, Mistress.”

  Brynna was suddenly there with a dressing robe. Cora happily unfolded her arms so she might be wrapped up. Faolan didn’t care a bit who saw him in only a shirt. He stood in the middle of the chamber as the two captains turned and gestured to several matrons who were hesitating in the doorway.

  “Come forward and witness. This union is consummated.”

  Cora felt her cheeks heat. Faolan was her husband, so there was no shame in the matter, and still, it chaffed to have so many people intent on knowing the intimate details of their night together.

  Of course, she’d been raised to expect such.

  That doesn’t make it any more palatable…

  No, it didn’t.

  But at least it was over.

  Brynna guided her out of the chamber before any of the captains had time to see her. The matrons performed their duty well by forming a wall around Cora as she was taken downstairs, through the passageway, and up into the tower where her chamber was.

  Was Faolan relieved to have her taken away?

  Why do ye ask?

  Honestly, she should have left well enough alone. She’d already decided that being wed to him would suit her decently. And he’d treated her kindly.

  You mean ye enjoyed being bedded…

  Her cheeks were back to flaming. The matrons who had walked with them chuckled at her expense.

  “Enough now.”

  As unlikely as it was, Orla was the one who put an end to the morning’s entertainment. The Head-of-House arrived and wielded her authority seamlessly by pointing even the matrons toward the door.

  “Enough of that already,” Orla chastised them all. “She’s the mistress. Remember that.”

  The chuckles stopped.

  “Mistress,” one of the matrons said respectfully.

  The others turned and lowered themselves before they left the chamber.

  “With only a few mouthfuls of supper last evening, ye must be famished.” Orla made a motion with her hand, and a maid was moving forward to place a tray on the table in the receiving chamber. “There’s more than morning porridge there for ye.”

  The tray was laden with small bites of cheese and fruit. A thick slice of bread with jam spread across it. And there was a lid over the porridge. Once the maid set the tray carefully on the table, she reached in and pulled the lid up, releasing a puff of steam that carried the scent of warm cereal and nuts.

  A very fine meal indeed.

  Worthy of the mistress of the house.

  “Thank ye, Orla.”

  The Head-of-House inclined her head. She took a long look toward the door before she reached into the pocket she’d made by tucking the end of her apron into her belt. This time she produced another pottery jug.

  “A bit of something to ease the ache,” Orla said as she set it on the table.

  The Head-of-House started to leave. Orla stopped and sent Brynna a stern look. “Serve the mistress well, for there are plenty who covet yer spot.”

  “Brynna pleases me,” Cora said.

  Orla nodded a single time before she made her way to the doorway. Several of the maids had stopped to linger on the landing. They were straining their necks to get a view of what was happening inside the chamber. There was a scamper on the steps as they realized the Head-of-House was coming toward them.

  The door shut with a firm sound. It sent a wave of relief through Cora. Brynna picked up the pottery jug and plied the waxed rope stopper from its top. She sniffed at the contents.

  “No’ too bad,” Brynna remarked before she poured a measure of the jug into a small earthenware mug sitting on the tray Cora’s meal rested on.

  “Orla brought ye some of Noreen’s personal stores.” Brynna replaced the stopper. “I suppose they are yers now.”

  “Ours,” Cora corrected her. “I have never fancied indulging while those around me simply watch.”

  Cora lifted her mug in a toast.
Brynna smiled and pulled the stopper out so she might raise the jug to her lips.

  The brew was strong. Cora felt it burning the top of her tongue and the sides of her mouth. It suited the moment, for there were many things which were ashes now.

  She smiled.

  Aye, ye’re a woman now…

  At least she had ended her years as a maiden. Did that make her an adult? Cora wasn’t precisely sure.

  Will he want ye again?

  She supposed it was a question every wife asked herself. A bride spent all of her time preoccupied with the thought of her coming wedding night. Cora had never really given much thought to what was on the other side of that, though.

  Now? Well, it would seem the day was there, with endless possibilities of just what happened after her vows were consummated. She didn’t feel any more confident in her role as mistress than before she’d spent the night with Faolan.

  He’d stayed the entire night.

  Was it because he’d been expected to?

  Would he ever do it again?

  Stop! Ye’ll make yerself insane…

  There was a horrible little feeling of comprehension for just why Noreen had flown across the chamber and raised a dagger up high when Malcolm had so brazenly informed Cora that he’d like to have her.

  “Not that I plan to quibble with ye over that matter. I can see to filling her belly meself.”

  The memory of the look in Malcolm’s eyes chilled Cora to her core. Faolan was demanding and highhanded to be sure, but he’d never looked at her like his brother had.

  So cold and calculating.

  He’d certainly not cared if she enjoyed being bedded or not.

  Cora blushed. Faolan had made sure she enjoyed being with him.

  “I fear I have not the strength to hold onto me seed if ye milk me.”

  Faolan’s words rose from her memory, as did the way he’d brought her to a peak with just his fingers. She suddenly looked at Brynna.

  “Brynna….ye used to live among courtesans?”

  Brynna lowered the jug. There was a different look in her eyes now. A far more experienced gleam was there.

  “So…might I ask…what a man would mean by…milking?”

  *

  Gilmor waited for his aunt to speak.

  “It’s no’ a bad idea,” Una remarked after a moment of contemplation.

  “Since Faolan has decided to take the girl to his bed, if she proves barren, we might use that as a sign that he is not meant to be laird of the McKay,” Gilmor explained again. “Ye would know the way of ensuring Cora Mackenzie dose nae conceive.”

  Una held up her finger. “It’s a tricky thing, especially if I am to sneak it into her food, for the brew must be taken every day. That girl Brynna is no closeted laird’s daughter. She knows what concoctions women use to keep their figures slim.”

  “A miscarriage would be just as good,” Gilmor pressed his aunt for her agreement. “I know a few maids in the laundry who will let us know if the Mackenzie girl doesn’t bleed.”

  “That is more dangerous. Cora may not survive,” Una advised him.

  Gilmor didn’t waver.

  “We need time for our letter to reach Lirkin Grant,” he said. “So long as there is no issue from this union, we can proceed with Kalan becoming the heir to the lairdship while I have custody of her.”

  “But will ye be able to let her go when she reaches maturity?” Una asked.

  “I am not set on reaching above me place, Aunt,” Gilmor explained. “I was a captain, and I will be a captain again,” he insisted. “Every member of our family suffered when I was pushed off the high table.”

  “That’s true.” Una was still for a long moment. “For the moment, I will see what can be done about keeping the new laird from his bride.”

  “The soiled sheet is hanging from the window.”

  Una smiled. “Once is sometimes enough. But not always. Ye could no’ stop him from bedding his wife, but there are ways women might get Faolan to thinking about leaving his bride in peace. If we are to claim the lairdship for young Kalan, it will have to be before the McKay see what merits Faolan has. It was only Malcolm and Noreen’s scheming, which kept him down before.”

  “The McKay only voted him in because they fear being raided if we have no one to lead us.”

  Una shook her head. “Faolan is a man of deep conscience. He would not promise favor for votes. Men talk in the passageways. Never doubt that women hear more than ye might wish us to. We may not have a vote, but we have memories.”

  “Aye, well, remember that when I suffer loss, so does everyone else in our family.”

  Gilmor wasn’t happy with his aunt’s words, but her agreement pleased him well enough. The deal was struck.

  *

  The day dragged on.

  Faolan had important matters to focus on. Men were coming in from the edges of McKay land to offer their allegiance to him. Letters needed to be written to fellow lairds in order to solidify his own position. Time was running short as the autumn faded. The wind held the bite of winter. The snow had melted, but it was only a matter of time now before more fell.

  Aye, he had many things that required his attention, but he found himself looking toward the windows in his office and gauging how much more daylight there was.

  Darkness meant he might seek out Cora.

  Would she welcome him?

  She had the night before.

  “Ye’re pitiful,” Gainor remarked.

  Faolan cast a disgruntled look toward his senior captain. Gainor chuckled and pointed at him.

  “Mind ye, that wife of yers is fetching. Little wonder ye can nae keep yer thoughts on the work in front of ye.”

  Faolan grunted. “I can nae spend me days inside this office. Sitting here will make me soft.”

  “Aye,” Yestin agreed. “Malcolm was one for comforts, and it’s the truth most of us didn’t care for how ill-equipped he was to lead the McKay with anything more than a quill.”

  “To be fair,” Faolan responded, “I did no’ have enough respect for how much there is to do at this desk.”

  “Yer father had a fine secretary,” Yestin offered. “I wager the man is still living in the village. He has a grown son as well. One educated by yer father. Malcolm dismissed them both, for he liked to have a reason to sit there.”

  Faolan felt his spirits lift. “I’ll ride down to invite them back meself.”

  With a solid reason to escape the office, Faolan was up and out of his chair.

  And he didn’t look back.

  “Ye’ll miss supper,” Yestin remarked as they rode out into the courtyard.

  “Aye. We’ll eat when we’ve finished our day.”

  And they’d be back by sunset. He felt anticipation surging through him. It might have been the fresh air in his face or the sensation of being atop a horse after spending the last few days inside.

  Or he could simply be honest and admit he wasn’t at all certain he might sit beside Cora at the high table and not give in to the urge to carry her off to bed once more. She’d likely toss another stool at him if he did that.

  He enjoyed her temper.

  Faolan grinned as he leaned over the neck of his horse. The animal was powerful, and it suited his mood. His cock was hardening again, and he didn’t try to master the impulse.

  He’d come to terms with the fact that he was a beast a long time ago.

  Cora was the thing that soothed him. Or perhaps it was better to say she was the warmth that drove the ice from his veins. He’d gone to the towers to take solace in the unknown. Noreen had soured his taste for refinement of any sort.

  Especially ladies.

  Cora was a curious blending of poise and passion. She might keep her composure while walking down the center hall of the McKay, as regal as a princess, and yet she’d stood up after being flung at his feet by the river and shook her fist at the storm as a mythical creature from some winter fable. She’d rekindled his desire for home and hea
rth with a simple meal and the demand for clean hands at her table.

  Tonight, he’d seek her out again. It felt as essential as his next meal.

  But first, he’d be worthy of her.

  There was rain on the wind. Faolan rode headlong into it with his teeth bared. For the first time, he felt the need to excel in his new position. The memory of Cora sitting beside him at the high table burned in his mind. His mother had been driven out of the stronghold. Now he was laird. Justice had prevailed in the most unlikely of turns.

  It would seem that evildoers did, in fact, reap what they sowed. For Noreen had been Malcolm’s death after all.

  And now, Faolan was going to make very sure he was a laird worthy of the woman he’d taken as wife.

  *

  Faolan missed supper.

  Cora realized she’d been holding her breath as she approached the hall, eager to see him and yet certain he’d figure out from her blushes that she’d been discussing him with Brynna.

  Oh, the things ye learned…

  Brynna had proven that Cora truly wasn’t as unbridled as so many claimed she was. At least so far as worldly knowledge went.

  Ye mean frank knowledge…

  Her cheeks began to heat. Cora pushed the topic aside and focused on the moment. Orla was waiting on her to begin the meal.

  The laird’s table only had two of the younger captains sitting at it. But the tables running up and down the length of the hall were full to bursting. Retainers were crowded so tightly together, there would be some bruised elbows and ribs after the meal.

  “Seems everyone wants a look at ye,” Brynna muttered.

  Any man who was a Retainer had the right to take his meals in the hall, but many of them had wives and homes. Today they were here in force, and every single man turned to look toward Cora as she made her way to the high ground.

  Her chair was pulled out for her, and Orla began the washing of hands with Cora. Conversation still hadn’t started back up as she dried her hands.

  “The laird rode toward the village,” Brynna whispered next to Cora’s ear.