Highlander’s Veiled Bride: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highland Seductresses Book 2)

by Shona Thompson

  For all Angus knew, they would tell him to hang the poor woman, or at least they would let the man go without paying for what he had done to her.

  “Ye shall pay a fine of two four merks,” he announced, and at that moment, he was quite pleased with himself regarding his decision. “And, of course, ye shall never raise a hand on yer wife again. And ye . . .” he said to his wife, making the woman finally looked up at him. “Ye must never have relations with another man, do ye hear? This man is yer husband. I dinnae ken what got into ye, woman, but ye made an oath to love this man, and so ye will.”

  “Aye, m’lord,” said both the man and the woman at the same time, but before they could leave, Angus heard stomping footsteps approach him.

  “Two four merks?”

  It was Ishbel, her voice shrill and furious as she shouted at him. Angus could see the way her lips curled into an unpleasant snarl, as though she was ready to attack him, and it only seemed natural to him that the first time they would talk after their kiss would be an argument in front of the entire clan.

  That was his luck; he wasn’t surprised anymore.

  “Is that what this woman’s life is worth to you, my lord?” she asked, voice dripping with venom when she addressed him. “Look at this poor woman! Look at her! Look at what this man, if he can even be called a man, did to her! Do you think that he’ll stop, my lord? Do you think that once they are back at their home, he will be a good husband to her? Do you think he’ll become a good man, simply because you ordered him to pay two four merks?”

  The entire room seemed to have been stunned to silence after Ishbel’s outburst, and so had Angus. He stammered, not knowing what to say, but Ishbel seemed to have more to say to him and to the people of his clan.

  “And you!” she shouted, turning to look at the clansmen and women in the room. “Do you consider yourselves good people, when you stand there and whisper among themselves about this woman? Do you consider yourselves good people when you rejoice that your Laird gives this man a punishment so small and ineffective?”

  No one answered her, but Ishbel didn’t seem to need an answer. Instead, she turned to look at Angus once more, eyes narrowed and gaze wild.

  “You should be ashamed!” she said. “You should all be ashamed, but most of all you, my lord. How dare you look at a woman in her time of need and decide that she deserves such treatment, regardless of what she did?”

  Angus had had quite enough of Ishbel then, and he stood up, taking a few steps towards her. “Ye willnae tell me what to do!” he said. “I’m the Laird, and my word is the law!”

  “Then, I don’t wish to be here.”

  With that, Ishbel stomped out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she ran away from Angus.

  Everyone was looking at her, Angus included. He wasn’t going to simply allow her to get away with such behavior right in front of his people, though, and so he ran after her, his hands clenched into fists as he followed her out to the garden.

  The night sky was fragrant with flowers there, and the stars twinkled in the sky. Under other circumstances, Angus would have been hesitant to talk to Ishbel there, were Cupid was sure to lurk around every corner, but now his anger was bubbling up inside his chest, and there was no stopping him.

  Angus caught up with Ishbel, and he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. Just as he expected, Ishbel yanked her arm away from him, but she didn’t move. Instead, she simply stared at him with the same sour grimace that she had given him in the hall.

  “Ye willnae speak to me in front of my men like that,” he hissed. “What is the matter with ye, lass? I am the Laird of this clan, and I willnae have anyone speak to me like that. I dinnae care if ye think yer better than us, than me, because yer not from these parts, but I’ll tell ye one thing . . . as long as yer on my land, ye will watch yer words when ye speak to me.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Ishbel said, sounding unimpressed. “I don’t care whose land it is, I don’t care who you are . . . that woman was beaten half to death, and you didn’t do anything about it. Did you see her? Did you look at her face? Did you see how terrified she is of that man that you call her husband?”

  “As she should be, after what she did,” Angus said. “What did ye expect, Ishbel? She betrayed her own husband, and it was his right to punish her as he saw fit. I never said that what he did was alright, but I couldnae verra weel punish him harshly for it! The punishment that I gave him was enough, and nothing ye can say will change my mind.”

  “I thought you were a kind man, Angus,” Ishbel said, and Angus could hear a hint of sadness in her voice. “But I was wrong. You allowed that man to mistreat his wife. I can assure you that this is not the first time that he lays a hand on her. I know, because I saw her, I saw the fear in her eyes. That man will kill her one day, Angus, and her blood will be on your hands.”

  “Och, lass . . . ye dinnae ken anything,” Angus said. “Ye dinnae ken those people. Ye dinnae ken my people. How can ye accuse that man of things that ye canna ken at all? “

  “Don’t treat me like a child, Angus,” Ishbel protested. “I know very well—”

  “Then, dinnae act like a child.”

  At that, Ishbel took a step towards Angus, fists shaking by her sides. “You have no respect for women,” she spat. “Interrupting me, leaving that poor woman to her fate with her husband when you know well that he will mistreat her again . . . I bet what your people are saying about you is true, after all. Did you do it, then, Angus? Did you kill your wife and your child simply because she was a girl?”

  Angus stumbled back as though he had been slapped. If anything, a slap would have hurt less than Ishbel’s words.

  He felt as though a knife had pierced through his heart, leaving him gasping for air and making it hard to swallow around the knot in his throat. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t say or do anything other than stand there, watching Ishbel with a look of horror on his face, wondering how she could have even said such a thing.

  She seemed to understand her mistake immediately, though, as she took a tentative step towards Angus, her face twisted in a pained grimace. She reached for him for a moment, but then she seemed to change her mind, and she let her hand drop by her side once more.

  “How can ye say that?” Angus asked. “Do ye take me for a murderer?”

  “No . . . Angus, no,” Ishbel said softly, shaking her head.

  “I didnae kill them, Ishbel. I could never do such a thing,” Angus said. “Kirsteen . . . my wife . . . I never fell in love with her, that much is true. I never loved her the way a husband should love his wife, but I loved her nevertheless. She was my world when we were married, and I never once did anything to hurt her or disgrace her. And my wee lass . . . my Aileas . . . ye canna ken what it was like, holding her in my arms while I kent that she would never be awake. She was perfect, Ishbel. She was a wee bairn, and she was perfect. She . . .”

  Angus’ voice trailed off. He didn’t want Ishbel to hear his voice break under the grief, and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else about his daughter. The more he spoke about her, the more her death loomed over his mind, but if he simply remembered her in his head, like he did every single waking moment of every day, then she could still live through him, in a way.

  “Angus, forgive me,” Ishbel said, and this time she reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What I said . . . it was terrible. I believe you, Angus. I believe you because you have never been anything but kind to me. I know that you could never hurt your wife or your child because you are not an evil man.”

  Angus had to pull himself away from Ishbel. He took a deep breath and leaned against a nearby wall, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

  He could feel his eyes welling up under his lids, and he simply couldn’t let Ishbel see that. It wasn’t befitting of a Laird, crying like a young child, even though he doubted that Ishbel would blame him for it.

  “Aileas . . . i
t’s a lovely name, Angus,” Ishbel said, and that made it even harder for him to hold back the tears. He heard her, rather than saw her, come close to him once more, and she placed both hands on his shoulders this time, forcing him to look at her.

  They stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like eons to Angus. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Angus wanted to stay in that moment forever, where he didn’t have to explain himself or his actions to anyone, where he wasn’t being accused of murdering his own wife and child, where he could be with Ishbel without worry about anything else.

  “Angus . . .” Ishbel said, but Angus shook his head. Whatever she was going to say, he didn’t want to hear it.

  He leaned a little closer to her, and it didn’t take him long to notice that she didn’t pull back from him. He could feel her breath on his skin, hot and sweet, and his hands came up to rest on her hips, pulling her a little closer.

  Ishbel didn’t resist. She let him pull her flush against his body, and then Angus kissed her, his lips barely brushing over her own.

  He kissed her, and the world seemed to melt away from him. It was only the two of them, and the point where they were connected into one.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ishbel could hardly believe that after so many days of avoiding Angus and not seeing him or speaking to him, they were now in the castle’s gardens together, all alone, Angus having her pressed against the nearest wall as he kissed her.

  The days that they had spent apart from each other had done nothing to diminish Ishbel’s passion and desire for Angus, and it seemed to be the same for him, if she were to judge by the way that he held onto her, so tightly as though he was afraid she would disappear from his grasp.

  Ishbel couldn’t blame him, of course, not after the talk that they had just had. Ishbel would have never guessed that Angus kept so much inside him, so much grief and pain that he didn’t share with anyone.

  Then again, he was the Laird of his clan. Ishbel doubted that a man like him would ever see it fit to speak about his sadness with anyone else, and so he had kept everything quiet and suppressed until he couldn’t anymore.

  It was not fair by any means to him. Ishbel couldn’t understand why his own people had turned against him in his hour of need when he was at his weakest. As far as she knew, Angus had never done anything to deserve the anger of his people or their gossip, but she supposed that gossip and rumors blossomed regardless of whether he deserved it or not.

  People could be cruel, especially when they didn’t know the other side of the story.

  Ishbel wanted nothing more than to comfort Angus. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands gripping onto his shirt as she pulled him even closer.

  There was an urgency to their movements, an unstoppable desire for one another, and Ishbel felt as though her skin on her entire body was on fire, the places where Angus touched her scorching with heat.

  It occurred to her that they were in the middle of the gardens, though, where anyone could see them if they walked by, and so she pulled back just a little, just enough to look at Angus.

  “What if someone sees us?” she asked.

  “They willnae see us,” Angus said, though he didn’t sound particularly certain about his own promise. Then again, he didn’t seem to mind, and Ishbel would be lying if she said that the risk of being caught didn’t send a tingle down her spine.

  She told herself that no one would see them. No one would be in the gardens at such a late hour, after all, and even in the mornings, the gardens were usually quiet.

  Still, she kept an eye out for any shadows and her ears open for any sounds.

  She couldn’t care anymore, though, not when Angus began to pepper kisses down her neck, lavishing her with attention. Her breath came out in a soft sigh as she tilted her head back, baring her neck for him, reveling in the goosebumps that erupted on her skin, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held him close.

  Angus was surrounded by Ishbel, by her warmth, her scent, her touch. When he pushed her skirt up, Ishbel gasped, her hips instinctively pushing forward as Angus fell on his knees in front of her, all but disappearing under her skirt.

  When she felt his hot breath against her skin, she could hardly believe what he was doing, and she tried to take a step back, but her back hit the wall, and she was suddenly pinned in place. Then, any protest that she had died in her throat as she felt Angus’ tongue against her sensitive flesh, and her words were replaced by a low groan that she had to drown out with a hand over her mouth.

  It would do no good, having someone hear her and rush to her aid only to see the Laird of the clan between her legs, she thought.

  Angus seemed to like to tease her, though, as he then abandoned his task and began to press kisses on her thighs. The more he stalled, the more desperate Ishbel became, and when she let out a whine, soft and high, she heard Angus chuckle.

  It was what he had been waiting for, and then he resumed his delightful assault on her senses, his hands gripping her buttocks firmly as his tongue swirled and pressed against her. Ishbel had never felt anything like it before; she hadn’t even known that such a thing could happen before, but now that she did, she wondered if she would ever get enough of it.

  The more Angus pleasured her, the weaker she got in the knees. She could feel the pressure build up deep inside her, insistent and unstoppable, and she bit down on her hand to keep quiet as her pleasure peaked, legs trembling as she rode the wave of her completion.

  When Angus resurfaced from under her skirt, he pulled her into a bruising kiss, and Ishbel parted her lips, tasting herself on him. She felt feverish, her entire body aflame with desire, and so was Angus, flushed and sweaty, his hands pawing at her eagerly.

  Ishbel’s gaze fell to the bulge that had formed in his trews, and her hand followed, rubbing teasingly at his length. Angus answered her with a moan, sounding like a man who was already far gone, and Ishbel couldn’t hold back the satisfied smile that formed on her lips.

  It was all because of her.

  “I want ye,” Angus whispered in her ear. “I’ve wanted ye for so long that I thought I’d lose my mind, Ishbel.”

  “Then have me.”

  Angus looked at her then, his eyes wide and his pupils blown wide. Ishbel wasted no time; she undid Angus’ belt in a hurry and pulled him out of his trews before she hooked her knee over his hip and pulled him closer.

  Angus was pulsing in her hand, and Ishbel’s eyes widened slightly when she realized what would follow, but she trusted him completely. Angus seemed to sense her hesitation, as he stopped and looked at her, a hand coming up to cup her face.

  “Are ye alright, Ishbel?” he asked. “Do ye wish to—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I want you, Angus. Make me yours.”

  Angus kissed her again, and all her worries melted away. The wall was rough against Ishbel’s back, but Angus’ hands were gentle, and he grabbed the leg that she had hooked around him, his fingers digging into her thigh.

  Then, he entered her, and Ishbel gasped once more as Angus gave another moan, low and growling. He remained still for a few moments, his head falling back in pleasure, and Ishbel couldn’t help but marvel at the way that she seemed to be affecting him.

  It took a lot to make a man like Angus look so shaken.

  Ishbel rolled her hips against his, then, just a small movement that had Angus tightening his hold on her and biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet.

  “Ye’ll be the death of me, lass,” he said. “And I will like it.”

  Ishbel laughed, but her laugh soon turned into a hitched breath as Angus thrust into her. She could feel him deep inside of her, his member hitting the sensitive nerves on her skin again and again with his every thrust.

  She had thought it impossible that there could be a pleasure greater than the one that he had given her only moments earlier, but now that he was inside her, it was different; it was as though they were connected into one, and she could
feel every twitch of his muscles, every roll of his hips in the center of her being.

  Ishbel let her head fall back against the wall and went pliant in Angus’ hands as he maneuvered her into the best position for him, and soon he was thrusting so deep inside her, brushing against just the right spot, that Ishbel couldn’t hold back a cry, one that Angus swallowed with a kiss.

  She could feel her pleasure rising over her like a wave once more, building up slowly but steadily, and she was close, so close to her completion that she could feel its first shudders.

  Then, there was shouting.

  It took Ishbel a few moments to realize that the sounds came from the courtyard at the other side of the castle, but they were loud and clear, and Angus seemed to hear them as well. He cursed under his breath, but he did his duty as the Laird and pulled away from Ishbel, quickly tucking himself back into his trews.