Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (32 page)

“Aye,” my lord, said another man dreamily, “but lovely savages, at that. Have ye e’er seen so much beauty in one place in all your days?”

“Nay,” FitzSimon was forced to agree.

“It seems they are praying to those barrels,” his captain pointed out.

“Nay,” replied another man. “It seems to me they are partaking of what’s inside them. See the one… how she tilts her head back as though drinking. There must be some sort of tap there.”

“What could be inside them?”

“Who knows. Could be anything at all. Blood, for all we know.”

“God’s teeth!” FitzSimon declared. “Look at them!” His body couldn’t help but respond to the vision before him. Two of them were undressing one another now, lifting off veils, one at a time. One of them was already bare breasted, and the other danced about her seductively. He took a deep breath.

“Holy hell… I see them, my lord. I see them!”

“It must be some sort of devil’s dance,” FitzSimon declared. “Witches, mayhap?”

“Mayhap so,” agreed his captain. But the rest of his men remained silent, open-jawed at the sight presented before them.

“But those are the loveliest witches I have ever seen,” sighed one of his men.

FitzSimon couldn’t gather his own wits enough to rebuke him. Damned if his breeches weren’t suddenly growing too snug.

The two women were practically naked now, the rest dancing lithely under the moonlight, completely unconcerned with their audience. FitzSimon’s men all grew dizzy at the sight of them.

“Do ye think they will… right here?” his captain asked.

FitzSimon swallowed. He couldn’t speak. His lust had gotten the better of him.

“Should we join them?” one of his men asked, a hopeful note to his voice.

“Nay, what if it is a ruse?”

“Bah! They are only women,” FitzSimon declared. “And harlots at that… no respectable woman owns gowns like that. And no respectable man would let his woman out looking like that.”

“Aye, but as you said, these are savages, my lord!” argued his captain.

“Those are
not
gowns a savage wears,” FitzSimon countered, contemplating their manner of dress. “I have seen women bedecked that way only in the East. Nay, these are no savages… gypsies mayhap.”

“Or witches,” his captain reminded him, “bent upon seduction and sacrifice.”

The two naked women began to pet each other, writhing together in a wickedly sensual dance. FitzSimon had never seen anything like it… not even in the East.

“Aye, and they will feast upon our bodies and dine upon our hearts!”

“Balls of the saints! Let them feast upon my body,” declared one of his men. “If I die tonight, I’m going to die a happy man!” And he rose from the bracken and strode into the meadow toward the dancing women.

The rest of the men all peered up at FitzSimon, whose hand was quite conspicuously cupping his loins. His face burned but his lust was too great to give a damn. None of them could have said a word because they were all as hard as bloody stones.

“They are only women,” FitzSimon said again, and his men all agreed. They turned to watch their companion, and waited to see how he would be received.

He reached the circle of women, and at once they rushed toward him, devouring him into their ritualistic dance, pulling and tugging at his clothes. He seemed in ecstasy under the onslaught of their kisses and caresses.

Once again they all peered up at him, and FitzSimon swallowed convulsively. The bulge in his breeches was noticeable now, and his heart was pounding in his ears.

But something was not right…

“Let’s go,” he told them, but they misunderstood him completely. All at once they rushed onto the field, after the women and their now ecstatic companion. The women had led him to their barrels and he was lying with his face beneath the tap, drinking while they caressed his body.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, and went after them, telling himself that he would not succumb… nay, he merely meant to retrieve them. And then he would have their arses, all of them—weak-kneed sucklings that they were!

No sooner had he started toward them when it seemed they assailed him in the same manner they had his men, surrounding him at once… touching him, seducing him. He tried to resist, but it seemed there were suddenly more of them… and more of them… so many damned hands and naked breasts…

He went down fighting, he told himself. They were surely witches—his men were right!

Seana slipped into the woods, determined to follow their men to FitzSimon’s camp. It wasn’t part of the plan but no one could have kept her from it. She reached the woodlands as Broc was climbing down from his treetop post, and followed him.

“Go back, Seana,” he commanded her.

“Nay,” she refused and followed, whether he liked it or not. She would not rest easy until she saw Colin’s face.

He gave her a frown, but didn’t make her go back—nor could he have done so had he tried. She would have latched herself to his legs and made him drag her along.

They found FitzSimon’s camp easily enough, and the lone soldier they had left to guard Colin fled when surprised by their greater numbers.

Auld Angus chortled in amusement as they watched the man scurry away, and Leith shook his head, chuckled, and said, “Idiot Sassenachs!”

Seana couldn’t find any humor at all in the situation until she saw for herself that Colin was alive and well.

They found him in FitzSimon’s tent, bound, and hobbled in a corner. At the sight of him, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d held and rushed to his side, wanting to be the one to free him, needing to hold him.

“Seana!” Colin exclaimed, once she untied his gag. “What the devil are ye doin’ here?” He gave her a bewildered glare, as though he could not fathom her part in his rescue.

Male pride be damned! The sooner his arms were free, the sooner she could thrust herself into them. Tears of joy coursed down her cheeks as she worked the bindings loose. “Saving you, Colin Mac Brodie! What does it seem I am doing?”

There was no hurry now, so the men held back, allowing her to help Colin. FitzSimon and his men were all likely well on their way to getting drunk on her
uisge
and would be bound and gagged at the first opportunity—and gagging again come morn if Seana’s
uisge
did its work. This batch was far more potent than any she’d ever made! A few drams and they’d be far worse for the wear. And the women outnumbered them ten to one. They hadn’t a chance against them. But in case that failed, the majority of the men had remained to guard them, ready to come down from their posts in the trees.

“I’ll be damned,” Broc said, seeming to realize suddenly that Seana’s plan had been a success. “She saved your worthless arse, Mac Brodie!”

Seana freed Colin’s hands and cast herself into his arms. She held him and never ever wanted to let him go. Colin returned her embrace, still bewildered by her presence, it seemed.

She laughed joyously and didn’t care who heard her. “I love you, Colin Mac Brodie! Dinna ever scare me like that again!”

“You love
me
?” Colin asked, peering up into her face, lest he mistake her.

She nodded.

Colin suddenly didn’t give a bloody damn who witnessed his joy.

He drew her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. “Och, you love me!” he exclaimed and kissed her again. “She loves me!” he announced to his brothers. And he kissed her one last time… oblivious to the grins surrounding them.

“Looks to me as though we’ll be having ourselves another wedding,” Leith remarked, shaking his head in marvel.

“Damned right!” Colin said, nodding, and rose to kneel on one knee. No time was better than the present. No woman could ever please him so well. He pulled her to her feet before him and peered up into her beautiful face. “Seana,” he began, losing his nerve for the briefest instant at her drawn brows. He inhaled a breath, gazing up at her with all his hope in his eyes… all his dreams. “My dearling…”

For an instant, she looked bewildered, then staggered as she seemed to realize his intent. A little gasp escaped her and her eyes welled with tears. She swallowed, as they began at once to stream down her face.

Colin reached up with one hand to wipe them gently away. “Be my wife!” he begged. “Be my lover, Seana!”

She shook her head, but Colin somehow understood that she wasn’t refusing him, that she simply could not speak.

“I shall pledge you my heart and my soul!” he continued. “And I shall ne’er let you regret me one single day!”

Not a breath stirred within the tent. Everyone waited to hear her response.

“Aye!” she said.

“It’s about damned time someone settled his arse down!” Gavin said.

A cheer went up from those about them.

Except for Angus. “Somebody aught to be checking that gaddamned
uisge
o’ hers!” he declared, disgusted by the sight of the lovers. “In all my years I have never seen so many wedded men! I told that boy not to be gettin’ himself wed!” He turned and left the tent, complaining, “Och, There must be something in that bloody
uisge
!”

Broc’s hearty laughter was joined by the others, but Seana and Colin no longer heard them.

Colin kissed her, oblivious to their banter.

This instant, he cared only about Seana.

Outside the tent, the sound of the reed in the distance stopped, and voices rang out in triumph.

It had been more than half a century since the MacKinnons, Brodies, and MacLeans had celebrated together.

Tonight, a new pact between them was forged… and a new clan was born into their midst…

The stars seemed to grow brighter with the sound of their revelry.

It might have been a trick of the eyes, for Seana’s
uisge
was not left to waste, but the stars seemed to twinkle down like fairy dust into the woodlands.

Everyone saw it though no one claimed to. They rubbed their eyes and blamed the vision on Seana’s
uisge
.

But in the misty shadows of the forest, alight with dancing faeries, two pairs of golden eyes blinked knowingly at the tent so filled with laughter.

After a moment, two black cats pounced away into the brush to play.

It was about time he seduced his wife.

Colin had waited just about as long as he would. Never in his life had he gone so long without lovemaking, but he hadn’t wished Seana to believe he’d married her for any reason other than the simple fact that he cherished her.

“To the lovely bride!” Lyon Montgomerie said in toast, and lifted his goblet high.

Everyone followed his lead, lifting their glasses in honor of Seana.

Colin lifted his highest of all, and his wife gifted him with a brilliant smile that caused his heart to flutter.

It was a mannered gesture, slightly more subdued than his people were accustomed to, but Lyon Montgomerie had stepped forward to give Seana away in place of her father, and Colin had stood back and allowed him to assume the role in its entirety. It seemed to please Seana.

His sister and her new husband had taken Seana into their home, had treated her as though she were kin, and the smile upon Seana’s face just now was worth any measure of discomfort he might feel at their foreign influence. The wedding had been celebrated indoors, and four clans now stood packed within Montgomerie’s hall. How the hell everyone managed to get inside, Colin didn’t know. A harp played the fine English ballads meant to make lovers swoon into each other’s arms, though there wasn’t any room to dance.

He wanted to hold his wife in his arms.

She was lovelier than he’d ever seen her.

Her wedding gown was the same Meghan had worn, and God’s teeth, though Meghan was his sister and lovelier than she had a right to be, Seana somehow managed to take his breath away. Her long black hair spilled down over the ivory cloth, shining beautifully. Her rosy cheeks bloomed with health and her smile was brilliant. She laughed with his sister and her husband, thanking them profusely, looking every bit the English princess, with her goblet of fine English wine that left him craving the wild woodland spirit he knew dwelled beneath the finery.

He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here… couldn’t wait another moment to carry his wife up to their wedding bed.

He grinned then, for that was the one part of this Sassenach ceremony that pleased him immensely—the part where she was to be carried up the stairs to the room they would share. Only Colin had no intentions of allowing anyone else to touch her tonight. He’d damned well carry his own wife to bed!

With that in mind, and without warning, he bent and swept her into his arms, apologizing to his sister for spilling Seana’s wine all over her dress. Seana shrieked in startle. Her goblet clattered to the floor at his feet.

He ignored Seana’s protests. “Time for bed!” he exclaimed.

“Och, but you’re a brute!” Meghan accused him, scowling fiercely.

Colin merely grinned at her. “Well ye know patience was never my greatest virtue,” he reminded his sister, and kissed her upon the forehead. “G’nite, Meggie, dearlin’.”

Seana shrieked again, this time with laughter, as he started through the crowd. “Out o’ my way,” he demanded of the guests.