Highlander's Lurking Threat: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance
Page 3
“Off we go!” Stuart cried, before spurring his own mount out of the gate. He was followed a moment later by a very apprehensive Niall, and unbeknownst to them, they were being watched by a very fearful bride-to-be.
On arrival at the establishment of Mrs. Fergus-Brown, the notorious local madam whose brothel was known for miles around as having the broadest range of pleasures in the land, Niall felt utterly terrified. His only experience in a whorehouse had scarred him for life, but his befuddled brain had removed the memory from his mind, only to release it now, as he and Stuart dismounted outside the entrance.
The whiskey in his stomach was curdling, and he had a dreadful feeling that he was going to disgrace himself in any number of ways. He could fall flat on his face and pass out, or vomit on the carpet, or get to the bedroom and fall asleep, or worst of all, he could get to the pivotal moment and fail to rise to the occasion. It did not bear thinking about.
Still, he stumbled inside, and then a plump, middle-aged woman with a garishly painted face walked up to him, devouring him with her greedy eyes. He was handsome, rugged, and expensively dressed, obviously a man of substance who would pay handsomely for the very best girl she had to offer. Better yet, he was drunk, and he did not look like the violent type, so it would not matter what happened once she had his money in her hands. As well as that, she kept half a dozen strong guards on the premises in case of trouble.
“My goodness, what a big strappin’ lad ye are!” she said admiringly, looking him up and down from head to foot and back again. “Ye will be able tae have yer pick o’ any o’ my ladies!”
Niall looked at her blearily. He felt good now, warm and content as he smiled at the woman foolishly as she led him further into the building, which was a plush, overheated house. The rooms inside were decorated mainly by scantily clad women draped over every chair, couch, and carpet. Some of them were even draped over men, and for the first time, Niall began to feel uneasy.
Stuart dug him in the ribs and grinned at his friend as he pulled out his coin purse. “Come on, big man,” he said slyly. “Time for some action. Pay up!”
Niall reluctantly pulled out his pouch and handed over a considerable quantity of money to the madam, who had been hovering at his elbow, eyeing the purse greedily. The coins disappeared immediately into a fold of her dress, and she smiled, showing a mouthful of even but yellow teeth. Niall was reminded of a cat baring its fangs.
Just then, he felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see a small red-haired woman with lascivious blue eyes attempting to drag him away in the direction of the bedrooms. She had a pixie’s childlike face, but her generously curved bosom and hips told him that there was nothing delicate or innocent about her.
“C’mon, big man,” she said huskily, licking her lips. “Time for you an’ me tae get tae know each other better.”
Against his better judgment, Niall allowed himself to be led away. Stuart had been captured by a tall, dark woman who looked as though she could swallow him whole, but his expression was one of besotted delight. He waved and winked at Niall before disappearing, and Niall did not see his friend again that night.
“My name is Ella,” the little woman said to Niall in a breathy voice that she was obviously trying to make sound seductive. “What’s yours?”
“Rob,” Niall lied. Even in his addled state, he still retained some semblance of self-preservation. If these women knew he was a laird, he would not get out of there before he had parted with his last penny.
“Rob,” Ella echoed softly. She pushed him onto a large four-poster bed and lay down beside him, and then kissed him, a wet, open-mouthed kiss that left him feeling slightly nauseated. “What dae ye like best, Rob?” she asked as she began to deftly unbutton his shirt. “I can please ye in a hundred different ways. On yer back, wi’ my hands, my mouth, my teeth, or even wi’ this.” She reached sideways and opened a drawer, out of which she pulled a coil of rope and a small plaited leather whip. “If you can take it, I can give it...or maybe ye would like to punish me instead? I have been a bad, bad lassie, an’ I deserve a good beatin’.”
Niall looked at her in disbelief, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. A wave of anger rose within him as he thought about Elspeth, a true, good, beautiful woman who had been thrust into a marriage through no fault of her own. She had not complained once and had accepted it as her lot without demur.
But Niall McLaren was not made of such stern stuff. The day after his brother died and the night before his wedding, he was in a whorehouse, thinking only of his own needs and desires. Then Elspeth’s face swam up in front of him, her deep gray eyes soft with sympathy. She had not said an unkind word to him since he met her, and he was betraying both her and Craig’s memory. He groaned as a wave of shame washed over him.
He jumped out of bed, ran past a very startled Ella, and rushed outside, through the overheated parlor and into the stables, where he saddled Rex and rode hell for leather back to the castle. On the way, he thanked God for his lucky escape.
4
Wedding
Niall had very little sleep that night, even with the gallon of valerian tea and all the whiskey he had drunk. He woke from a fitful, restless doze just before dawn with a thumping headache and a guilty conscience. Despite the fact that he had turned his back on temptation, he could not believe what he had almost let himself do.
He washed, shaved, and donned his best formal attire, then sighed, feeling as if he was going to the gallows. The ceremony would not be lavish under the circumstances, which was some small consolation. There would be no hymns, very few guests, and no celebratory breakfast afterward, for which he was immensely relieved. He just wanted the whole thing to be over.
He swallowed a full glass of whiskey, regardless of the fact that he should have been fasting before the Nuptial Mass. He reasoned that God would forgive him. After all, it was an emergency.
God, help me, he thought. This is going to be the worst day of my life! He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, turned on his heel, and marched downstairs to the chapel to meet his destiny.
Elspeth’s stomach was a flurry of nerves as she and Catriona attired her in her wedding finery. Her dress was made of bright pink satin and was completely unsuitable for the somber occasion, so she had consulted Niall’s mother to obtain her permission to wear it.
Lorna, however, would not hear of Elspeth wearing anything but the rose-colored dress. “My dear,” she said, smiling sadly, “every bride should look like a queen on her wedding day, and so should you. You are a beautiful woman, and I would not dream of sentencing you to wear black or gray or brown on the happiest day of your life.”
“I will feel very out of place,” Elspeth replied doubtfully. “Everyone else will be in mourning clothes.”
“Of course you will,” Lorna put a hand on each of her shoulders. “You will be in a place of your own—the most special place. The bridegroom is only there to escort the bride, but you are the one everybody wants to see. Wear your dress and be at ease.”
“Thank you,” Elspeth said gratefully. “You are very kind.”
However, although Lorna McLaren had given her permission graciously, Elspeth still felt uncomfortable.
“Should I perhaps not wear one of my ordinary day dresses?” she asked Catriona. “I am sure under the circumstances, everyone will understand.”
Catriona looked at her as if she was mad. “But why?” she asked. “Yer groom wants ye tae be his bride today, mistress. The funeral was yesterday, an’ Craig wanted everyone tae move on wi’ their lives. That means ye an’ the laird an’ a’. He will expect it. Dinnae disappoint him.”
Elspeth sighed and nodded as Catriona placed another spring flower in her shining golden hair. She looked every inch a bride, and although her dress was very modestly cut, with a high neck and long sleeves, it fitted very closely to her figure and hugged her every curve.
Catriona stood back and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “Ye look like a queen, mi
stress,” she breathed. “The laird wilnae be able tae keep his eyes off ye.”
Elspeth hugged her. Solid, dependable Catriona was the only rock she had to cling to in the turbulent sea of events unfolding around her.
“Thank you, Catriona.” Her voice was trembling. “Please pray for me.”
“I will say three rosaries!” Catriona replied, and meant it.
Elspeth had declined a bouquet, carrying instead a white, leather-bound prayer book that had belonged to her mother. She walked into the church alone since her father was too ill to make the journey to see his only daughter married. This was a lie since Archibald Barbour was not an invalid, but a chronic drunk, and Elspeth was too ashamed to be seen with him. There were also no other male relatives to accompany her. Since her mother had died after her sister, she had no close family, and needed none.
Thankfully, there were only a few people there, all relatives and friends of the McLaren family. Everyone was wearing dark colors, and Elspeth felt as if they were judging her in her festive dress and thinking how thoughtless and uncaring she was.
Niall was waiting for her at the altar, and she was heartened to see that he was not in mourning clothes either, his only concession to grief a black armband on his right arm. In fact, he looked magnificent in his clan finery. His powerful calves showed beneath the dark blue and green tartan of his clan kilt, and his snow-white shirt strained across his broad shoulders. Sunlight gleamed on his hair, and she thought he resembled a majestic stag.
Niall could hardly believe the sight that met his eyes when he looked to the back of the church. Elspeth was breathtaking. Her dress clung lovingly to every womanly inch of her body, outlining her full breasts and rounded hips so perfectly that his body began to harden with desire. Her hair shone like spun gold in the sunlight.
He smiled at her as she drew abreast of him and reached out to take her hands. “You look lovely,” he said softly. His gaze skimmed over her, making her blush.
“Thank you,” she whispered. For the first time, she felt as though she could actually like him.
The ceremony was mercifully short. Father Graham was an old, bald man who had dedicated his life to the church and looked as if he was bouncing with joy all the time. He loved weddings, but he always maintained that the ceremony was the least important thing about marriage and that it was what came afterward that was important—love, life, and children. He almost sprinted through the ceremony, brimming with happiness.
Elspeth was trembling with nerves as the old priest asked Niall if he took her for his wife, but as he answered “I do,” he gave her a wide, beaming smile, which reassured her far more than the words themselves.
When it was her own turn to say her vows, she looked into his eyes and pronounced them firmly and steadily, even though her heart was hammering so hard she was surprised that no one could hear it.
At last, the priest pronounced them husband and wife. He gave them Holy Communion, after which the Mass ended. There were no hymns and only a few short but heartfelt congratulations.
Although she was glad that everything had been done so quickly, Elspeth could not help but feel a pang of regret for the lovely wedding that every young woman secretly wanted. The guests would have been dressed in bright colors, and they would have thrown flower petals and cheered as they left the church. Still, she thought, she had a handsome husband and a bright, secure future, and for that, she should be grateful.
The last thing she wanted was a wedding breakfast, but as she left the chapel on Niall’s arm, she realized they were going towards the big dining room, and she looked up at him, frowning. “I thought there was to be no celebration?”
He sighed. “My mother insisted,” he told her regretfully. “She said that we had one funeral yesterday and she did not want another one today. I would rather not go either, but I cannot disappoint her under these circumstances, and I think this is what Craig would have wanted too. I hope you understand.”
She nodded, managing a tiny smile. “I understand.”
“Thank you for marrying me,” he whispered, smiling down at her.
Her eyes widened in surprise. It was the last thing she had expected him to say, but as she looked into his eyes, she saw a look of infinite gentleness there and realized that this big, tough, extremely masculine man had a softer side. “Thank you, too,” she replied, and then laughed. “And now, I think I may need something to eat after all.”
He kissed her cheek and put an arm around her waist. “Perhaps I do too, milady.” We will need it for later, he thought, almost salivating in anticipation. In spite of everything, he could not wait to be alone with her, his wife, whom he had sworn to protect and love for the rest of his natural life. It still seemed like a dream.
They went into the dining room to a subdued round of applause from the dozen or so guests. Niall was holding her hand, almost enveloping hers in its strong but gentle grip, and as Elspeth gazed at his profile, she realized that he looked proud, which surprised her.
A glass of whiskey was poured for the company, and Niall called for silence and began to speak. “My friends, today is a celebration of two things: a celebration of the marriage of my lovely wife Elspeth and me, and a celebration of the life of my beloved brother Craig. He was a man who was always optimistic, and he constantly looked to the future, which is why he wanted our wedding to take place so soon. He would not have wished us to spend our time grieving, so today, we will rejoice as we remember him.
“The greatest gift he gave to me is the lovely woman who has graciously consented to be my wife, Elspeth, now Lady McLaren. I hope you will join me in wishing us a long, happy, and fruitful life together.” He held up his glass. “Sláinte Mhath!”
“Sláinte Mhath!” everyone cheered.
They stayed by their guests and did their duty for a short while before Lorna whispered in Niall’s ear that it was time to take his bride away.
“We must have a proper wedding,” she told him, smiling. “Carry her upstairs, Niall.”
Niall gave his mother a slightly sheepish smile before he obeyed, smiling at Elspeth as he swept her off her feet with no effort at all. There was a cheer from the guests, and a few ribald comments followed them upstairs.
“We can at least do one thing properly,” Niall said. He opened the bedroom door with a gentle kick, then carried her inside and sat her on the big, four-poster bed. “I am sorry there was no time to prepare a chamber fit for a bride, but as you can imagine, with the funeral, the wedding breakfast—”
She stood up and put a finger over his lips, then gave him a gentle smile. “The room is perfect. Thank you, Niall.” She looked at the huge bunch of red roses on the polished wooden table that stood at the center of the huge room. They were the only ornamental touch, but nothing more was needed. The flowers filled the room with their gorgeous scent, and she breathed deeply of it, closing her eyes and savoring each breath. “These are enough.”
Niall watched her, enjoying her delight. She took great pleasure in the simplest things, he thought. It would not take much to make her truly happy.
Suddenly, Elspeth’s eyes snapped open as she realized that she was alone with a grown man for the first time in her life. This was her wedding night, but no one had ever told her what was expected of her. She had heard the words “making love” but had no idea what they meant, and now here she was, a bride who was expected to become a wife, without any knowledge of how to do so.
She scrambled backward on the bed, terrified. He was such a big man anyway, but now he seemed like a giant.
Niall frowned, unable to understand her terror. “Elspeth, why are you scared of me?” he asked, mystified. “I would never harm you in any way.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed for a few moments. She was as tense as a bowstring, but relaxed a little as he sat down in an armchair a few feet further away from her.
“Tell me what you are afraid of,” he insisted gently.
“I am...” She shook her head, and suddenl
y the truth came out in a torrent of words. “I do not know anything! I have no idea what to do!”
5
First Lesson
He gazed at her, shocked, and then his heart filled with pity for her. “I am so sorry, Elspeth. No wonder you are terrified. But I promise you, there is nothing for you to be concerned about. Trust me, and I will teach you, and we will do nothing against your will.”
Tears were streaming down Elspeth’s face by this time. He crossed to the bed and pulled her into his arms; for a moment, she resisted him, then relaxed. He rocked her back and forth for a while, and gradually Elspeth felt her heartbeat slow down as she burrowed into the warm hardness of his chest.
Niall was furious that no one had prepared Elspeth for her wedding night, and the poor girl had no idea what was expected of her. He wondered how anyone could have been so cruel. He decided that he would rather postpone the consummation of the marriage than hurt her, but he had to show her what was expected of her.
“I want you to listen to me. You are no different from many other young girls who are left unprepared for their wedding night, but Elspeth, it is not your fault. I will tell you about the act of love, which is only frightening because you don’t know about it. We are all scared of the unknown; you should have seen me when I mounted a horse for the first time! But there is nothing to be afraid of, and both of us should enjoy it because if we did not, there would never be any children!”
“That is true,” she agreed, with a soft laugh. She hoped that making love was akin to what she was feeling now; sheltered, warm, and protected. “Now tell me,” she said resolutely, “because I want nothing more than to be a good wife to you.”