Beauty and The Highlander (2 page)

Chapter Three

Morning came finally. After a fitful sleepless night,
Carrick ate without appetite. They broke fast in the great room, his father presiding
over the clan like a king on a throne. Angus Gordon sat centered at the high
board with Analise's uncle and Declan. Carrick and Analise sat on the opposite
end. Finally the meal ended and they moved to stand and Carrick assisted
Analise down. Her hand was light on his arm, yet his full attention remained on
the spot until she removed it.

"We will go to the chapel shortly," his
father announced and waved serving women over to pour ale into their cups.

Carrick guided Analise to sit in one of several chairs
next to the large hearth and went to join her uncle who remained waiting for
whatever his father did to prolong the morning. Angus thoroughly enjoyed being
the center of attention with the few Macgregors who came as escorts.

No sooner than he joined the men did his brother move
away from the laird and go to Analise, his lips curving when noticing Carrick's
regard.

Analise listened to whatever Declan spoke, but her
eyes constantly traveled about the room. Perhaps she sensed the need to get
away from Declan, an intuition that he was a rogue. Or perhaps she wished to
escape to keep from marrying him. Carrick shouldn't care which prompted her
constant vigil, but he did.

Her uncle tapped his arm, his kind eyes lifted to him.
"Take care of her, lad, she is a good woman. Doesn’t deserve this lot.
Losing her husband and young."

Carrick once again studied Analise Macgregor. He'd
describe her as fetching with long wavy hair the color of fall leaves and light
eyes that reminded him of a misty sky. Her face was oval, a soft sprinkling of
freckles across her upturned nose. Her lips, well, he could only stand to
glance upon them. A more enticing mouth he'd never seen. They were full lips
that turned up at the corners and begged for a man's kiss. At the direction of
his thoughts, he scowled and she looked to him, their eyes locking.

"I didn't know she lost a young," Carrick
told her uncle while keeping his gaze on his soon to be wife. "How did it
happen?"

"The shock I suppose. Upon learning of her
husband's death during the battle with the damn Mackenzies, she lost the babe
days after."

That explained the sadness in her eyes. "Why
marry her to my clan?"

"We need the alliance. She needs protection. A
widow in our clan, especially one so young and attractive will not be safe from
the clansmen. I had to find a way to protect her."

"Why not marry her to someone in your clan?"
Not that he wished her gone, he just wondered the true reason for her being
sent away.

"She is a widow lad. Only one younger clansman
asked for her hand, he withdrew the offer when finding out how small a dowry
she possessed. Her husband did not leave her much." Her uncle shook his
head. "Analise would have declined the offer, it was too soon after her
husband and child's death. Time passed and then she attracted the eye of our
laird's son, but not for marriage. So I had to act quickly."

"I see."

Not able to garner her full attention, Declan gave up
and walked away leaving Analise alone. Although he should, Carrick did not want
to approach her again. Not yet, his mind was full of questions. Why did she not
seek out a man in her clan? With her beauty, it would not have been hard to
garner a husband.

Whether she was brave or a good actress, he had to
admit he'd admired her lack of reaction to first meeting him. Even as she'd
tracked his movements upon first seeing him, she'd managed to keep from showing
any response at his disfigurement. But he'd seen it, the slight parting of her
lips, the way she looked down his body in order to not focus on his scar.

"Carrick?" She neared and placed her hand on
his forearm. He tried not to react to the touch, but his treacherous body
tensed and he inhaled sharply. "I believe it's time."

The trembling of her fingers on his arm was the only
outward sign of any fear or hesitance. Analise kept her chin up, her eyes
straight ahead. Carrick had to respect her tenacity. If nothing else, he'd
found a strong woman in his betrothed. Hopefully she'd be an agreeable match.

Nothing to be done about it, they were to be bound for
life and with amazing bravery she faced a future tied to a disfigured man. She
must have sensed his regard because she turned to him, her clear eyes meeting
his only for a split second. "Are you sure of this?"

"I gave my word."

Her hand fell from his arm and she turned to him.
"Of course, but you can send me back."

"Is that what you wish?" Carrick couldn't
bear to look at her and witness any distress because of his appearance, so
instead he kept his gaze past her and waited. He would not send her back. It
would mark her as unwanted. If he rejected her, the action would bring shame
upon her and clan Macgregor.

"I don't know what I wish," she replied just
above a whisper.

"Come along, dear." Her uncle came from
behind and prodded them forward. He rounded them to walk alongside the laird.
"It's your marriage ceremony."

"Yes, uncle." They followed the elderly man,
her hand once again on Carrick’s arm, her eyes trained forward, a picture of
serenity, if not for the rapid pulse at her creamy throat.

The ceremony commenced without haste, their hands
bound together, words spoken over them followed by cheers from the clansmen,
who were more excited at the prospect of drink and music than the joining of
their future laird and wife.

Chapter Four

How different from her first marriage when the
anticipation fueled her nerves until she'd been almost faint with it. Her face
had ached from smiling so broadly at marrying the man she'd loved since
childhood. Her clan's chapel had been replete with flowers and the cheers that rose
loudly were accompanied by music. They'd been surrounded by people who'd
actually cared and were as happy as her to see them joined.

Except for the stoic bridegroom, she'd have to admit
this ceremony was not as distasteful as she expected. Her stomach a constant
bundle of nerves, threatened to bring up her breakfast when Carrick bent to
kiss her. The feathery kiss lasted but a mere instant, she'd yet to close her
eyes when he straightened. The amber eyes looked directly onto hers as if in
daring. What exactly did Carrick Gordon anticipate? She met his gaze and held
it.

Finally he looked away and led her from the chapel.
The festivities began with pipers and jugglers entertaining the clan's people
who made their way into the great hall.

The air filled with a mixture of jubilant music and
excited voices. Once seated, Analise clapped along with a merry melody for a
few minutes enjoying the respite from the last years of living a cloistered and
sad life. Soon she'd be abed with her new husband. The consummation loomed.
Heat crept from her neck at the thought of intimacy with the stranger she'd
only met the day before. Yet she wasn't afraid of him, aloof as he was, Carrick
took time to listen as the clan folk spoke to him and even stopped several
times to tussle a young one’s hair.

Moments later she noted he gripped the arms of the
chair, his gazed locked across the room. She touched his arm and leaned into
his ear. "Carrick. Are you unwell?"

When he faced her, she saw a dark rage in his eyes and
felt her own widen. "No, I am not unwell. I am perfectly well."

Analise sat back into her chair and followed his line
of vision to where his brother stood. The younger Gordon spoke with a serving
girl who looked nervous at the attention, her reddened face turning away often.
Carrick took her attention from the couple. "Are you in need of
refreshment?" He stood to his full height dwarfing the other men in the
room.

"Err...no, thank you." She watched him cross
the room to where his brother now held the maid by the arm. Analise wondered if
perhaps Carrick was jealous. Was there something between him and the young
girl? The brothers faced off, both leaning at the waist, fists at their sides.
The revelers obscured them and Analise fought the urge to jump to her feet to
see what happened next. Finally when the people shifted and she had a clear
view only Declan remained. Carrick had gone.

It was best she find out what happened. If her new
husband planned to frolic with a maid on their wedding night, she wouldn't
stand for it. Carrick would not get away without knowing her opinion on the
subject.

She lifted her skirts, crossed the room and exited the
doorway onto a balcony. The only person outside was Carrick. He stood still,
both hands on the wall, his head bent, eyes closed. He must have heard her soft
footsteps. "Declan, please leave or I will kill you."

A wave of relief filled her at finding him alone, yet
Analise wasn't sure if she should return or let him know he was mistaken.
Unable to stay away from someone hurting like he did, she neared. "It's
me. What happened?"

"You." He said the word without infliction,
leaving her to not understand the lack of emotion.

"I wondered if you'd left."

With a mirthless chuckle, he shook his head. "No,
I will remain until tomorrow morning. Once we join as husband and wife, I will
be free to take you with me to my home."

"Your home!" Analise gasped not knowing what
she'd expected. Certainly did not know she'd be going elsewhere. Was he taking
her further away from her home? "You mean we are not to live here with
your clan? Are you not to be the next laird?"

"I do not live here. I will return only upon the
current laird's death." She noted he did not refer to the laird as
'father.' Something happened between Carrick and his family. She wasn't sure if
he was at fault or not, but it was something she planned to find out.

He took her hand and placed it onto the crook of his
arm. "Now, my lady, should we make a final appearance before seeking our
bed?"

Chapter Five

There was no doubt in Analise's mind. Carrick Gordon
did not wish to be married to her. Was not happy to be tied to a woman who
brought little more than an alliance with a less than strong clan and a small
cache of gold. She did not blame him, actually she pitied him. A strong
handsome man like Carrick deserved to dream of a future with a beautiful wife
who would bring honor to his position. Someone he could be proud of. Not
someone like her. A widow, who'd spent more time in mourning than enjoying life
the last two years.

Once they bedded and consummated the marriage, she'd
give him leave to do as he pleased. He could keep her in the remote home of his
and return to the keep to await his birthright. If at least her new husband was
happy then she'd done something right. Her life would be agreeable. After all
she'd keep busy managing his home and could spend her days learning a craft,
perhaps soap making...or basket weaving.

Her eyes began to droop from exhaustion, the last two
days of travel and activity taking their toll. When Carrick guided her from the
room, she was instantly awake. Would there be witnesses to their union? She was
not a virgin, surely the clan did not expect to send onlookers into the room
with them? Footsteps followed and she lifted to her toes to look past Carrick's
shoulder. "Are they coming?"

"Aye," he replied his voice flat. "I am
to be the next laird, every aspect of this marriage must be fulfilled according
to our laws."

"Oh." She took a fortifying breath and
nodded. "I didn't expect it, but you are correct."

The door swung open and women waited for her inside.
Whoever they were, she didn't try to learn their names as nerves got the best
of her and once again she hoped not to become sick. An older woman neared with
shoulders rounded and eyes downward and began to loosen Analise's hair. "I
am Moraine, the laird's wife."

Her dull eyes met hers in the looking glass.
"Carrick is a good man. He will treat you with care. The gods have been
kind to you." She moved aside when a maid brought a light chemise and
pulled it over Analise's head.

"They come!" a young maid cried out grabbing
at Analise's arms and rushing her to the bed. "You must be prepared."

 The door burst open and men rushed in pushing Carrick
in front of them. By his frown and solid footing, he'd not drank as much as the
men who now crowded about, their eyes shifting between the bed and the
bridegroom who kicked off his boots and pulled his tunic over his head. Analise
lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. As mortifying as this rite of passage
was, it was necessary.

The bed dipped and she bit her bottom lip, her eyes
flying open. Not daring to watch the prying eyes of the people in the room, she
instead focused on her husband's face. With purpose and not wasting time on
preparing her for him, he pulled her to the edge of the bed on the side away
from the doorway. He slid her legs apart, pushed up her nightdress and took
himself in hand. Analise gasped not sure what to do to prepare for what she was
sure would be an uncomfortable encounter. She attempted to relax, but then the
shuffling of feet made her tense again.

Carrick eyes fell to her core, his attention making
her squirm with embarrassment. "I will try not to hurt you."

It was then she looked down to notice the size of his
cock. He was more than well endowed. The long member jutted out from him easily
longer than his palm. From how he wrapped his fingers around it, he was also
thick. Analise wanted to tell him to do something to make it easier, but at the
same time she wished for everyone to be gone from there. He nudged her entrance
with the head of his thickness then grabbed her by the hips and thrust into her
to the hilt.

Everyone in the room let out an audible breath and
began to clap as Carrick slid out and back into her, his face impassive, eyes
focused on her.

He pulled out and stood straight, not at all abashed
at the display of arousal. "Go on now. I wish to finish making love to my
wife in private." At his growl of displeasure, the crowd dispersed, some
already talking of seeking more ale.

"You don't have to finish if you don't
want," Analise pushed up to lie fully on the bed. "I understand."

"We will finish this. I will plant my seed in you
and hope for an heir." He yanked his breeches all the way off, it was only
then she noticed he'd kept them on, just pushed them enough to free himself.
"Take your clothing off, woman, if you do not wish to have it torn from
you."

Carrick did not want to scare his wife, but he'd not
allow her to push him away either. If he was to be tied to the beauty, she'd be
his wife in every sense of the word. He didn't wait for her to finish pulling
the nightdress over her head, but yanked it from her outstretched arms. She
gasped, her eyes moving down his body to between his legs.

"I'll make it more comfortable for you this
time."

Analise nodded and remained sitting on the bed. He
liked that she did not pull the coverings over her nudity, but instead sat atop
in full display. She was built for lovemaking. Full rounded breasts atop a
softly rounded stomach, cinched waist that flared out to rounded hips. Her legs
were well shaped, her feet small. He knew his lingering gaze affected Analise,
by her rapid breathing.

The lifting and falling of her chest grabbed his
attention and he leaned across the bed and took a pink tip into his mouth
sucking hard.

Her response was a throaty moan, her fingers raking
into his hair urging him to remain. Instead, he licked the morsel and trailed
his tongue across her skin to the other one and repeated the actions again and
again until she lay back on the bed gasping for air, her hips lifting from the
bed in open invitation.

The heated moisture of her center greeted his fingers
as he slid them between the folds to push into her. "I want more,"
Analise urged him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Instead he hovered over her and when she opened her
mouth to speak, he covered it with his. Shivers crawled over him when she kept
her lips parted waiting for the invasion of his tongue and once he pushed in,
she sucked at it with greed, until she cried out from his ministrations between
her legs.

"Now, I will fuck you properly," Carrick
rolled on top of her and guided himself into her now pliant body. She moaned
when he nudged at her entrance and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He pushed into her almost coming instantly when she
constricted around him, tight and wet. Each movement was drawn out by the fear
of finishing too fast. Yes, it had been long since he'd bedded a wench, but
this woman... Not only was she different than any other he'd ever fucked, but
also she acted as if she wanted him, as if she found him desirable. His
movements frantic now, as he could no longer control what his body did. Basic
nature took control ensuring the completion of what was started.

When he came, it was with a gush of intensity and tremors.

Then another thing shocked him. His wife cried out at
the same time, "Carrick!"