Healing the Highlander (24 page)

Within a heartbeat he was at her side, taking her arm to the cheers of those waiting.

"Yer holding up?"

She nodded in answer to his question, unable to speak. This close, with his damp hair curling down into the ruffled shirt at his neck, his beauty overwhelmed her. Her mind filled with memories from the night before.

His hair had been damp then, too, but not fresh from the bathhouse. He'd hovered over her, sweat from their mutual exertion glistening on his naked body, sparkling in the glow of the fire's flickering flames.

She shivered as he caught her up, his hands at her waist, to lift her into the wagon.

"Yer the most beautiful bride I've ever seen," he whispered into her ear just before he released his hold on her.

A moment ago she would have sworn there wasn't a spare drop of moisture left in her body, but she'd have been wrong. There they were, buckets of tears pooling, glassing over her vision. Gallons of them, all just waiting for her to tip her head the slightest bit so they could pour down her face.

Blinking hard, once and then again, she fervently prayed she wouldn't embarrass herself out here in front of everyone.

His low chuckle sent a ripple of excitement coursing through her body. The kiss he placed against her ear, his teeth tickling at the lobe, turned the excitement into need, driving away any thought of tears as those gathered around set up a whooping cheer of approval.

"That's better," he whispered before stepping back. With a low bow to her, he turned and mounted his horse, bringing the animal alongside the wagon next to where she sat.

Better? She wasn't so sure. The tears were irrational and stupid, yes, but the pounding need that heated her lace now and set her body thrumming with a desire to rip that fancy shirt off Drew's back was hardly an improvement.

She put a hand to her cheek to cool the burn. It was as if a fever had taken her. An illness might explain her irrational behavior. If she were able to be ill. Which she wasn't. Try as she might to deny that part of her, at times like this her Faerie heritage was undeniable.

The only illness she'd ever suffered had been when she touched someone, taking their illness on herself to heal them. And other than that little mishap with the wound on Drew's arm while they traveled to Dun Ard, she'd made sure to avoid using her gift for over a decade.

No, illness wasn't a viable excuse for her bizarre behavior.

But looking up at the magnificent man riding beside her, feeling the tangle of emotions that assaulted her when he was around, she was beginning to harbor a suspicion of what might constitute a viable excuse.

Problem was, with the troubles facing her family, this was no time to be finding her Soulmate. Especially not a Soulmate who descended from Faeries.

Faeries were not to be trusted in matters of the heart, no matter what anyone said. Her father had been Fae and according to her mother, they'd been Soulmates. But that hadn't stopped him from deserting her mother. It hadn't stopped him from breaking her heart.

Suspecting she'd found that one special soul only to have him be Faerie was bad enough.

Worse still was the knowledge she was marrying him with the sole intent of having that marriage annulled within days.

So much for the happy-ever-afters her mom had always promised.

TWENTY-
FOUR

God's blessings on your union. May His love forever fill your lives together. Go in peace, my children. Greet the world together in God's holy name as husband and wife."

A cheer rose up around them as the priest's words echoed in Drew's ears.

It was done. The step he had long ago given up any hope of ever taking. He was married.

He looked down into Leah's beautiful visage and a grin he thought he might never be able to wipe away broke over his face. She was his, this beauty draped in soft yellow, like dappled sunlight on a spring day.

The expression she returned was almost timid, as if she were unsure of what to do next.

He could take care of that.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he covered her lips with his, deepening their kiss until the sound of the crowd's cheering disappeared, leaving only her in his focus.

Her.

Leah.

His wife.

Caden slapped him on the back, hollering his congratulations to be heard over the noise of those gathered around them. It was enough to break the spell of the moment and bring him back to his senses.

In his arms, Leah blinked rapidly as if she tried to gather her own good senses. She looked up at him with eyes unfocused by her own need and lips swollen and pink from his kiss. He could feel only regret that propriety would require them to attend the feast and celebration awaiting them back at Dun Ard.

He'd much rather beat a path directly to their bedchamber. Even the nearest empty storeroom would do, for that matter. He wanted her that badly.

Instead he carried her to his horse, climbing up to sit with her snug against him, fitting perfectly in his embrace. He urged the animal forward, setting him on a course back up the hillside to Dun Ard before burying his nose in the crook of Leah's neck, inhaling her essence.

The scent of his wife.

He shifted the reins to one hand, dropping the other to press low against her stomach. He'd thought only to pull her closer to him, but her soft moan of pleasure at his touch sent his imagination on a wild journey, conjuring visions of a variety of delights.

It would be so easy to push aside the delicate material of her wedding dress, to reach underneath, to run Ins hand along her shapely thigh, seeking her heat. So easy to plunge his fingers deep inside her, to tease that sensitive nub of her desire, driving her to the frenzied pitch he knew she would reach, all the while watching the ecstasy take her face.

So vivid his daydreams, he'd grown hard. When she pushed back toward him, her lovely little arse wiggling ever so slightly against his erection, he had to fight for the control not to embarrass himself right here.

His heart pounded in his ears, pounded his need for her.

People everywhere, streaming up the hill ahead of them, behind them, alongside them.

Too many people, too many eyes for him to do what he wanted most.

"Hold on," he warned her, spurring his horse to more speed.

There was no way he'd last until nightfall. He needed her now.

His mount's sides heaved in and out like an old bellows by the time they reached the bottom of the grand staircase at Dun Ard, the exertion of an uphill run taking its toll on the animal.

It was worth it. They'd gotten here well ahead of the crowd that followed. His horse would be fine after a short rest.

He jumped down from the saddle, pulling Leah into his arms and up the staircase behind him.

"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly, but he ignored her.

He needed to find the closest spot.

Into the hallway, beyond Blane's solar, to the small door which led one step down into a storage room.

He closed the door behind them, sealing them in a shroud of pitch black.

"What are you doing?" Leah asked slowly, enunciating each word as if she thought he might have lost the power of speech.

Another minute or two, and he well might.

He backed her up against the door, one hand to either side of her head, dipping his head to capture her mouth with his.

As before, she didn't disappoint. Her lips parted and her tongue dueled with his, giving every bit as good as she got.

By the Fates, he'd needed this. If he'd had the sense of an insect, he'd have passed up his morning workout in the lists and stayed in her bed.

He dropped one hand, lifting her skirt to grasp her inner thigh. Just as he'd imagined earlier, he followed her heat to its source, running his fingers lightly across her opening.

She moaned before pulling her mouth from his, panting already as she spoke. "A quickie? You dragged me into this smelly hole for a quickie?"

"If quickie means this." He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the nub of her desire, feeling it harden under his touch. "I'd thought to have a wee visit with the Wild Woman. Is this acceptable to you?"

One finger, two, he dipped inside her silky depths, continuing to massage the hard little nub with his thumb.

"Oh yeah," she moaned, pressing against his hand. "Oh, hell yeah."

So hot, so ready for him. He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself into her, burying his shaft in the 1soft, tight pleasure of her body.

Still he waited. Waited until her breath came in sharp, broken little puffs. Waited until she went still against him, her only movement the rhythmic contractions around his fingers. Waited until her hands scrabbled against his legs, pushing his plaid up and out of the way.

She lifted one leg and he entered, hard and fast, grabbing her bottom to hold her weight as she lifted her other leg, locking her ankles behind his back.

He drove into her, pressing her back against the heavy door. Again and again and again until his release took him to the stars.

When it was over, his leg trembled from the exertion, making him grateful for the time he'd spent in the lists this morning. Without it, he wouldn't have had the strength to do this.

"Jeez Louise," she murmured, her forehead against his chest. "I think the Wild Woman could learn to like quickies."

"I as well," he answered. He might even be able to last the whole of their wedding feast without another one. Maybe.

After making sure the hallway was empty, Drew held the door open, allowing her to step out first, his big hand possessively touching her back.

A quick glance down reassured Leah she wasn't a total mess after their storage room encounter. In fact, the soft material of her dress fell properly into its folds as if she'd done nothing more strenuous than riding.

She bit back a giggle as it occurred to her that "riding" had been exactly what she'd done.

Another surprise for her day. A month ago she would have totally discounted any suggestion that she'd be having wanton sex in a storeroom. So much for totally discounting anything ever.

A crowd had already gathered in the great hall, with more people trickling in. A glance out the entryway as they passed showed her people lining the tables that had been placed in the courtyard.

When the MacKiernan clan threw a feast, they really went all out.

Drew ushered her toward the table on the dais just as the musicians began to play at the back of the room. With flute and harp and drum and pipe, their music floated through the room, a delightful toe-tapping background to the hum of conversation and laughter.

As they made their way through the growing throng, Drew pulled her closer, tucking her under his arm protectively.

She'd just about decided her day couldn't get any better when a familiar voice knocked her right off the happy little pedestal she'd roosted on.

"Congratulations, MacAlister. A lovely ceremony, indeed."

Moreland. Would the blasted man never get out of their lives?

"Our thanks to you, Sir Peter," Drew responded with a nod of his head. "I hope you and yer men will enjoy the feast as well. I suppose you'll be leaving us before long?"

"Before long, to be sure," Moreland answered vaguely enough.

With another nod, Drew pushed her forward, away from the annoying knight, all the way to her seat next to his at the table.

People crowded everywhere. So many people, all wanting to introduce themselves or to shake Drew's hand. All of them wanting to offer their congratulations and good wishes for a long and happy life together.

She'd seen nothing like this in her time at MacQuarrie Keep.

The serving girl brought two cups to each of them, one the usual spiced wine she'd grown accustomed to. The other was a pale fragrant ale, smooth on the tongue with a touch of sweet. A couple of swallows and one thing became quite clear. Unlike the wine served with every meal, this ale had a much stronger bite of alcohol to it.

One dish after another was served to them, foods of all variety placed on the trenchers she shared with Drew. And always the cup of ale was kept filled.

Her shoulders grew heavy, her mind a bit fuzzed, but still the food and drink continued to come. The constant thrum of conversation filled the hall while the lovely undercurrent of music played on.

Ellie sat to her right, telling her a story about how Caden's family had conspired to play matchmaker for them by encouraging her to sneak away from Dun Ard through some hole under the bathhouse so that he would come after her and bring her back.

Leah wasn't sure she followed the logic of the story, not with all the interruptions as people came up to share their good wishes. It seemed likely that either the tale was made up purely for entertainment's sake or that she'd missed some important detail because, watching Ellie and Caden together, she found it impossible to imagine there had ever been a time when those two hadn't been deeply in love. Just the way they looked at each other was enough to make her blush.

And that was saying a lot for a woman whose first stop after her own wedding had been for a storage room tryst.

True or not, Ellie's storytelling skills had her giggling by the time she excused herself to check on other guests.

Leah took another sip of her ale, biding her time until Drew finished speaking with his brother. Perhaps his version of Ellie's story might make more sense.

If he ever turned around to pay attention to her again, that is. How long could two men drag out a discussion about sheep, anyway? It felt like hours already, though logic told her it hadn't been anywhere near so long.

Maybe it just felt that way because she wanted those deep brown eyes focused on her. She wanted to be the one making him laugh. Like some lovesick teenager with her first crush, she wanted all his attention.

She wanted another drink of that fine, sweet ale.

"Pardon, my lady, but I'd ask yer leniency that I might borrow yer husband for a brief time." The laird himself stood behind her chair. "I've a matter of some import to discuss with him."

"Of course," she answered, doing her best not to sigh. Even she knew one didn't say no to the laird, no matter that she'd been waiting forever to speak to him herself.

Drew stood, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I'll no be long, dearling. Enjoy yerself until I get back."

She nodded her agreement, but he was already gone.

And just how did he expect her to enjoy herself without him?

"Better get used to it," she muttered aloud, lifting her cup for another sip of the wonderful ale. Before long, if all went according to plan, she'd be back at MacQuarrie Keep. Richard would be vanquished, life would be back to normal. No excitement, no intrigue, no rendezvous in the storeroom.

No Drew.

The thought filled her with an instant sorrow and for a second, she thought for sure the tears were back. She lifted the cup once more but paused as it reached her mouth. Her fingers felt too thick to hold it, her lips too numb to properly feel the rim of the cup.

She'd obviously had enough of the ale. What she needed now was some fresh air.