My Wild Highlander (19 page)

He responded in kind, but more briefly than
she had. She seemed to hold her breath. Again he flicked his tongue
at the underside of her upper lip, then away.

She gasped and buried her fingers in his
plaid and his hair, drawing him closer.
Aye, lass, take what you
need.
With more subtle movements, he teased her with his
tongue. She accepted each kiss, and came back for more, provoking
him.

A distant yell reached his ears but he didn't
care. Someone whistled.

Jerking away from him, she faced the window.
"Merde."
She jumped up and hurried from the room. Several
clansmen and servants stood outside, staring up at him with huge
grins.

"Do you not ken how to give anyone privacy?"
he yelled at them through the glass.

They scurried away.

"Aye, run now, you bastards." Now that they'd
frightened Angelique away and ruined any chance he had of getting
what he wanted most. His body was on fire with wanting her, his
shaft standing stiff as a pike. "Saints!" He smashed a fist onto
the desk and rose.

"Patience," he muttered, inhaling deeply. At
least Angelique was starting to like and trust him a bit more. He
must nurture that. Not much longer until their wedding.

So as to avoid the men in the great hall, he
exited down the back stairs and strode to the stables.

"I saw you leading a white horse earlier.
Whose is it?" Lachlan asked the young groomsman.

"The Lady Robertson arrived on it,
m'laird."

"Aha. I thank you."

After looking the mare over and finding her
strong and healthy, Lachlan found Chief Robertson standing before
the fireplace in the great hall and asked him about the animal.

The tall, stout man was dressed in the
Lowland style, and sported a full beard. "My wife would have my
head if I sold her favorite mare." He grinned. "But we have two
more white mares if you'd like to look at them sometime."

"Indeed, I would." A horse would be a
wonderful wedding gift for Angelique, even if it was a few days
late.

He would make her like him or die trying.

***

Angelique stood impatiently in her chamber as
the maids assisted in putting the many pieces of her wedding gown
on her. Camille directed. The gown was scratchy, and a bit too
large besides, requiring that portions of it be altered. After the
maids had styled her hair with elaborate, coiled braids, Camille
placed a wreath of wild white roses and dried white heather upon
her head.

Unfortunately, Angelique was not enjoying
this as much as she'd dreamed she would at fifteen. She had slept
little last night as she'd overseen the final preparations for both
the wedding and the feast. Even when she had gone to bed, nerves
had kept her awake. Today the celebration had started early with
breakfast for all the guests, then the dancing had commenced.

She was relieved in some ways that she and
Lachlan had already married, otherwise she'd be far more nervous.
But of course, she dreaded tonight when she'd have to deliver on
her promise to sleep with him. Her breathing seized and she grew a
bit lightheaded.
Put it from your mind and get through the day
first.

Minutes later, Heckie escorted her down the
front steps and across the cobbled bailey. She was glad for his
sturdy arm supporting her for her knees wobbled.
I must be
strong
. She thought of the diamond pendant hidden beneath the
dress, dangling between her breasts. This gift from her mother
would give her strength. She imagined
Maman
, in her angelic
form, gazing down and smiling. A slight calmness enveloped her.

They followed the Drummagan piper. The shrill
notes of the bagpipes stabbed at her ears. Smiling clansmen and
women, along with people from the nearby village, lined both sides
of the pathway, bowing, curtsying, shouting out well-wishes. She
plastered a smile on her face and nodded to them. Before she was
ready, she and her escort entered the small stone kirk within
Draughon's exterior curtain walls.

Her stomach knotted when she saw that every
pew of the chapel was packed full. All rose when she stopped at the
threshold. The huge stained glass window, which she'd always loved,
glowed with brilliant colors in the sunlight. Lachlan stood before
it in his Highland finery. But his belted plaid did not draw her
attention; his smile did.

She knew what he was happy about... the
marriage bed that she'd promised him this night. She lowered her
gaze, her hands shaking at the very thought of lying naked with
him. She had seen what he had to offer and she feared he would hurt
her terribly when he forced his way inside her. She cringed,
remembering the helplessness she'd felt when Girard had invaded her
and taken away her right to choose.

Camille, standing up beside her as maid of
honor, gave her a reassuring smile when she reached the front.

Lachlan took her right hand in his. "You're
lovely," he whispered.

You are, too,
she wanted to say, but
could do naught but offer him a brief, wobbly smile. Her mouth was
so dry she feared she would not be able to utter a word. Her white
gloves prevented her from feeling the warmth of his roughened skin
as she had during their first ceremony. She missed that small
comfort.

As the minister recited the ceremony,
Angelique grew more aware of the many Drummagan clan members and
other clan chiefs behind them, witnessing their lives being bound
together.

This time when Lachlan kissed her, she was
ashamed to realize she welcomed his lips on hers and his tongue
flitting into places it shouldn't with dozens of people looking on.
If only the marriage bed involved kissing and not...coupling, she
would be happy.

Smiling, Lachlan tucked her hand around his
elbow and they rushed down the aisle toward the exit. Outside,
pistols fired toward the sky in a salute and the kirk bells rang
out. A cheer went up from the guests and grain showered down upon
them as they raced across the stone courtyard. Angelique could not
help but join in the happiness. Before she realized it, she was
laughing.

Lachlan abruptly picked her up and kissed her
again. Heavens! A brief but potent kiss. The crowd grew louder at
this spectacle, with more shouts, whistles and laughter. She could
not take her gaze from his smiling face as he carried her up the
castle steps. At the threshold, one of the clanswomen gifted
Angelique with a basket filled with bread and cheese. Lachlan then
carried her into the great hall and set her in her garland
decorated chair at high table, then sat beside her. Yes, he was
having a grand old time, blast him. But so was she.

***

"M'laird, Kormad is at the gates, demanding
entrance," Bryson whispered in Lachlan's ear where he sat at high
table during the wedding feast.

The bastard had a lot of nerve. "You jest,"
Lachlan murmured low so no one else would overhear.

Bryson shook his head, his dark eyes most
serious.

With the noisy celebration, music, and
dancing going on, no one seemed to notice the interruption. "I'll
be right back," Lachlan told Angelique, seated beside him, then
followed Bryson to a more private area. "How many men with
him?"

"About a dozen."

"Are they dressed for fighting?"

"Nay."

"Have Rebbie and Dirk meet me outside. Don't
tell them why. And don't let any of the other guests nor my wife
ken of this."

"Aye, m'laird."

"Send ten archers onto the roof."

Bryson nodded and hastened away.

Two of Lachlan's personal bodyguards followed
him through the exit. He peered beyond the courtyard toward the
gates. The sun was setting, casting Kormad and his party in
silhouette outside the gates. Several Drummagan guards stood firm
on this side.

"What's this about?" Rebbie asked, joining
him. Dirk and the rest of the men filed onto the castle steps.

"We have uninvited guests." Lachlan nodded
toward the gate. "Kormad, with a dozen men."

The chief of Clan Buchanan shouldered his way
into the small space. "Is Kormad looking for trouble?" he asked in
a gruff voice.

"We don't ken yet. They're not wearing
armor."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Indeed."

Several more men joined them, Drummagans and
men from the other clans, all carrying swords or pistols. En masse,
they approached the gates.

"Kormad, how kind of you to pay us a visit,"
Lachlan said, staring hard into Kormad's malevolent dark eyes.

"MacGrath—er, I guess I should call you
Draughon now since you're the earl—good to see you again." His
sneer didn't pass for a smile. "I wasn't invited to your weddin'
feast. I'm hurt."

"I didn't ken you were yet returned from
London," Lachlan said, pretending he didn't know who had rained
arrows upon them and injured Dirk.

"I posted some of my men here to keep the
Drummagan clan and Draughon Castle safe until a new laird arrived.
I'm wonderin' what happened to them. Are they in your dungeon…or
dead?"

"Neither. I sent your men home to you with a
message. Did you not receive it?"

Kormad was silent a moment, frowning, his
gaze darting about before landing on Lachlan again. "What
message?"

"The leader of your men refused us entrance.
I challenged him to a duel and won. But I let him live so he could
tell you that if you wish to possess Draughon Castle, you would
have to come and try to claim it yourself. Is that what you've come
for?"

Kormad eyed Lachlan, then the men behind
him—several powerful men including another earl, a baron, and three
chiefs. Not to mention all their bodyguards and the armed
Drummagans.

Kormad laughed, fake and loud. "Nay. Of
course not. My men were acting under their own foolish notions. I
never told them to keep you or Lady Angelique out, only outlaws so
the castle wouldn't be looted."

"Well, I thank you for your concern. The
castle is safe and in good hands now. You and your men are welcome
to partake of the feast if you turn over all your weapons."

Kormad hesitated. "I thank you for your
hospitality, but I must be on my way. I only returned yesterday and
I have much work to do."

"I'm sure you do."
More plotting and
conniving.

"A good eve to you, Draughon. And
congratulations again on your marriage."

"I thank you."

Kormad and his men mounted, turned their
horses about and rode away.

"You should take one of his men or family
members hostage. That would keep him in line," the Buchanan
said.

"He doesn't give a damn about his men,"
Rebbie said. "I wager that's why they ran away when you sent them
packing, rather than face him with failure."

Lachlan nodded. "Without doubt."

"That one bears close watching," Buchanan
said and returned inside. Most of the other men followed.

Lachlan called Bryson aside. "See that all
guards are at their posts. Tell me immediately if you see aught
amiss."

"Aye, m'laird."

Lachlan mounted the steps.

"I'll stay out here and keep watch," Dirk
said, standing by the portal, his left arm in a sling and a sword
in his right hand.

"You'll do no such thing," Lachlan said.
"You're still recovering from that arrow. Only last night you had
fever."

Dirk cast a suspicious glance about in the
gloaming and lowered his voice. "How do you ken you can trust all
the Drummagans? You don't even ken what kind of men some of them
are."

"I don't trust them. All we can do is be on
guard at all times 'til they prove their loyalty." Nay, indeed, he
suspected some of them were stealing from Draughon's coffers.

Dirk nodded. "Still, I'll stay out here a
while. 'Tis too loud in there."

The wild, wary look in Dirk's eyes concerned
Lachlan. "Do you ken something you're not telling me?"

"Nay. I just don't like the feel of the
air."

***

Trying to ignore Lachlan's large warm hand
lying on her shoulder as they sat together at high table, Angelique
tugged the red satin ribbon, releasing the bow of the tartan
wrapped gift. Two silver and brass, jewel-encrusted daggers lay
within, one large and one small.

"How lovely!" she said, running the pads of
her fingers over the smooth rubies and emeralds studding the hilts
of each. The sheaths were also decorated in the same manner.

"Rebbie, you bastard." Lachlan grinned. "I
cannot accept my portion of this gift."

"You don't like it? Well then, 'haps I'll
send it to Miles."

"Nay, 'twould be sacrilege! I thank you,
Rebbie." Lachlan shook his friend's hand with much enthusiasm. "You
are too generous by far."

She passed the daggers to Lachlan, then
decided to keep her own. "
Merci,
Laird Rebbinglen. You honor
us with this gift."

"My pleasure,
madame
. I thought you
might need something to help fight off this rogue."

The men guffawed at that.

Angelique's face felt scalded and she
wondered if they knew exactly how hard she had fought him off. And
now feared her reprieve was over. Turning her attention to the next
gift, she untied the bow around a carved oak box and lifted the
lid. Two silver goblets rested inside on dark green velvet. "Oh."
She removed one. An oval onyx stone and an engraved dragon
decorated the side.

She had seen and touched this custom-made
goblet before. In France.
Girard.
A sensation like ice water
trickled through her body and she could scarce breathe. She glanced
about the hall, skimming the dozens of faces. Where was he? Where
was Girard?

Chapter Nine

"What's wrong?" Lachlan murmured in
Angelique's ear.

The goblet slipped from her fingers and he
caught it.