Highland Hellcat (2010) (31 page)

“Good night.”

Vanora sent her a wide-eyed look, but the girl’s cheeks were flushed with enjoyment too. Brina left her to the coddling she figured the girl was owed. She climbed the stairs toward the promise of the chamber that Connor had created to lavish attention upon her, but when she opened the inner door, she discovered that the ornate bed and plush accessories were missing. All that sat in the room now were chests and one table with several small boxes on its top. She walked into the room, feeling chilled when she had no true reason to be cold because of the heavy dressing gown that Maura had taken delight in draping over her shoulders. But at the same time her heart was filled with a sense of familiarity.

There was no light in the room, forcing her to take the candle lantern that hung in the back stairwell with her. Once she held it up to cast its speckles of light around the room, she noticed something else on the tabletop. It was light colored, and when she moved closer, she identified the sleeve that she had sewn.

“I couldn’t leave it behind. Just do nae go telling Cameron that. The man doesn’t believe in love.”

Brina didn’t jump. Maybe it was the fact that she felt his presence in the chamber, in spite of change in furnishings. She suddenly understood how ghosts might cling to a castle so long after their deaths. She felt the joy that she had experienced in the room so strongly that it didn’t matter what filled it.

“Come, Brina. Quinton interrupted me giving ye a gift when he stole ye.”

“A gift? But this chamber was a fine gift as it was.”

Connor held out his hand for hers. “Trust me, lass.”

She placed her hand into his, and he took her through the doorway again. He led her up another flight of stairs and then another, until they were at the top of the tower. He pulled the door open, and she walked past him.

Inside was everything that had been below. The fine bed with its goose-down coverlet and soft, creamy sheets. The table and chairs were there with candles flickered from where they were held in silver candelabras.

The difference was that the window shutters were open, and the windows were wider, with iron supports to keep the stone in place. The sound of the ocean filled the chamber, the scent of the salt water tickling her nose.

“Since ye seemed to like the ocean, I thought ye might enjoy this chamber instead.”

“It’s magical.”

She walked to the windows and looked out over the water that glittered with silver moonlight. She could hear the sound of the waves crashing, and come daylight, there would no doubt be the sounds of sea birds.

“Which is exactly what I wish our lives to be.”

Connor came up behind her, his arms encircling her waist. She turned toward him with the sea breeze chilling her cheek while she stretched up to meet his kiss.

Fate was kind indeed.

***

“What do ye mean ye won’t marry me, Brina Chattan?”

Connor growled at her as he shoved the bedding back and rose from it in nothing but what nature had gifted him with.

Which was plenty, in her opinion.

“I said I cannae marry you, no’ that I will nae.”

Connor stopped and propped his hands on his hips. “Make sense, woman, because I swear I’m getting ready to spank ye if ye do nae come down to the church and wed me before supper.”

Brina shrugged into her underrobe and tried to keep her eyes from lowering to where his cock stood erect in spite of the cold ocean breeze blowing in through the open window shutters.

“That will be up to the priest. I have to go to confession again and complete my penance before I can marry ye.”

“Ye already did that.”

She turned on him as her fingers flew through the process of braiding her hair.

“And then I helped Vanora escape, and in the doing, I did many a thing that I fear the priest will nae be pleased with. But I did succeed in getting yer sister out of there, so ye may just wait while I satisfy the church, Connor Lindsey, or I will refuse to wed ye just to spite that temper of yers.”

He suddenly chuckled. “I am no’ the only one with a temper… hellcat.”

“I dinna like being called that.”

His lips lifted into a smug grin. “I know, but since ye are nae my wife, ye cannae be telling me what to call ye, lass. That is the privilege of the mistress of Birch Stone and no other.”

She snarled at him but worked a lace through the eyelets of her overrobe before grabbing a veil and heading out of the chamber to seek the priest. She heard Connor laughing, low and deep, as she descended the first few steps.

Fate had a misplaced sense of humor, and that was for sure.

***

The priest began fingering his robe before she made it past the third sentence in her confession. She watched the man’s eyes widen as she continued and saw him swallow roughly when she came to the part about stealing the vestments.

“Ye stole Mother Church’s property?” His voice was high-pitched and his lips bloodless.

“We moved it and left it safe and sound where it might be found.”

He made a strangled sound beneath his breath.

“Shall I continue?” Brina asked.

The priest gulped. “Ye have more transgressions to confess?”

“Well, yes, ye see, in order to slip past the guards at the gates who were waiting to catch two women, we dressed as boys, and we did in fact steal the clothing, for it was all we had to wear; however, we left our clothing in place of what we took. Does that matter at all?”

“It does no’!”

Brina drew in a deep breath and savored the feel of her stockings and boots. She’d be losing them soon enough, it appeared.

“Well, we dressed as boys, and then after hiding all day, I had to shoot a Douglas with an arrow in the thigh when the man threatened to rape me.”

“How did ye know how to use the bow?” The priest’s voice was loud enough to startle the two boys cleaning the altar. They turned their heads to look back at them, only to receive a furious look from their superior. Both boys snapped back around and remained that way.

“My father had me taught to hunt with the bow so that I might provide meat to the convent.”

The priest began to mutter prayers, his voice shaky as he shook his head.

“How is my bride doing, Father? I do hope she manages to gain yer approval so that we might be wed at last.”

Connor was turned out in the finest clothing she’d ever seen him wear. His kilt was a new one and pleated perfectly, with the back falling longer than the front. His boots were polished, and even his bonnet looked new. There was a brooch with an amber stone set into silver that she had never seen before, and he wore a doublet with silver buttons all neatly fashioned up to his throat.

“A husband is exactly what this woman needs!” The priest slapped his thigh and snorted. “Yes, I insist that ye marry immediately and take her in hand before her behavior inspires mass rebellion against God’s order.”

“Of course, Father.” Connor walked down the center of the sanctuary as a flurry of footsteps came behind him. People poured in through the doorway the moment he cleared it, all of them scrambling to dip their fingers into the holy water and make the sign of the cross over themselves while they hurried into position to watch the nuptials of their laird.

Brina never rose off her knees but felt Connor join her. The priest began their wedding before she heard the people behind them finish surging through the doorway. The priest rushed through the prayers, barely taking time to draw breath in his hurry to pronounce them married. The moment he did, the priest gave a snort that drew a chuckle from her husband. He covered it with a cough as he tugged her down the aisle and out of the church.

“Do nae be so smug.”

He chuckled again. “And why no’? Are ye nae pleased to be my wife?”

Brina cast him a slant-eyed look, enjoying the way he tried to guess what she was thinking. Flirting was definitely something she was going to have to learn about, but she did know a thing or two about teasing, and Connor Lindsey needed to be given back a measure of what he was serving up to her.

“Well… yes… I am pleased about being wed…”

She kept her voice even and dull before lifting her eyelids and fluttering them while her husband frowned at her lack of enthusiasm.

“And what?” he demanded.

“Well, I find myself right pleased to still have my shoes.”

He growled, but it was in jest, because his blue eyes twinkled with merriment.

“We’ll see about what ye have, madam!”

He leaned over and hoisted her over one broad shoulder, to the delight of his clan. They cheered him on as he carried her into the tower and up every single step until they reached their chamber. He tossed her onto the bed in a tangle of robes and braids, and she couldn’t have been happier.

Fate had dropped her exactly where she needed to be.

The End

Mary Wine is a multipublished author in romantic suspense, fantasy, and Western romance; now her interest in historical reenactment and costuming has inspired her to turn her pen to historical romance. She lives with her husband and sons in Southern California, where the whole family enjoys participating in historical reenactments.