The Fearless Highlander (Highland Defender Book 1) (30 page)

Charlotte had packed her best gown for this day—just in case. A sennight ago, she’d thought all was lost but now, she stood in the main cottage while the MacIain women curled her hair and primped her ribbons.

“Have you seen inside your new shieling yet?” asked Bonnie.

“Hugh hasn’t allowed me near it.”

“It should be something special,” said Nessa. “The laird worked day and night. Breac told me he made the furniture out of logs.”

“Wheesht.” Bonnie shook the hairbrush. “’Tis supposed to be a surprise.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I must admit ’tis a bit difficult to keep secrets with all of us being so close-knit.”

“Have you seen it then—I mean the bed?” asked Nessa.

Goodness, she must be blushing to her toes. “Heavens, no—but I guessed he’d made a few pieces from all the timber the men were carting inside.” She had a few surprises of her own as well. Charlotte had decided not to tell Hugh about the gold and silver coins that remained from her dowry until well after their wedding. Oh no, she’d already wounded his pride by showing up with a flock of sheep—regardless if they’d been much needed.

The door creaked open and Lachlan poked his face inside. “Are you ready yet? The men said they’re all growing old.”

“I beg your pardon?” scolded Nessa.

Charlotte snapped her hands to her veil. “How does it look? I feel ever so awkward without a looking glass.”

“You’re prettier than a sunrise,” said Bonnie.

“Thank you.” Charlotte nodded to the lad. “Very well. Are you giving me away then?” A pang of sadness passed through her for a moment. The only thing this day lacked was Papa’s presence. Everything else had come together like a song. Sir Robert Stewart had brought a chaplain from Appin along with some needed supplies as his wedding gift—bless him, and for some reason Hugh had no qualms about accepting alms from another chieftain.

“Come along.” The boy beckoned. “I cannot wait to eat the sweet cake Sir Robert brought.”

Charlotte glanced at the kind faces of the women she’d come to know. True, they feared her at first, but now they knew she would be a part of their clan, they treated her as one of them. No longer an outsider, she looped her fingers around Lachlan’s elbow. “Lead on, young squire.”

“Do not forget your posy.” Bonnie had collected some yellow primrose earlier that morn and tied them with a pink ribbon.

Accepting the bouquet, Charlotte bowed her head. “How could I forget such a perfect bouquet? Flowers from the garden of Glencoe.” Her voice trailed off with a sigh.

When Charlotte stepped outside, the crowd gradually parted, making an aisle until all she could see was Hugh standing beside the priest. He wore a new plaid and doublet she’d never seen before. She leaned into Lachlan as her knees wobbled. Hugh had tied his dark tresses at the nape with a white bow. He grinned with his broad smile—the one that made her heart soar. White teeth, a clean-shaven chin, and eyes of liquid treacle. Oh yes, this was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life, even if they had to live in their mountain fortress—though the news of the inquisition was the biggest step to emancipation yet. But even that didn’t matter. This day, she would marry the man of her dreams—a Highlander from the most notorious, most rugged clan in all of Scotland—a man with a heart as large as Glencoe.

Slowly she walked forward with little Lachlan beside her while she tried not to the crush the fragile stems in her fist.

Not once did Hugh’s gaze stray from her face until finally he stepped forward and took her hand from the lad. “There are no words to describe your loveliness,
mo leannan
,” he whispered so only she could hear.

The priest held out his stole. “May I have your hands?”

He chanted the outlawed Catholic mass in Latin while he bound their wrists together, then looked to the crowd. “Is there anyone present who can attest to any reason why Hugh MacIain MacDonald and Charlotte Elaine Hill cannot be lawfully united in marriage in accordance to God’s Word? If so, you must now confess it.”

A moment of dead silence passed.

“Then I shall continue—”

“Stop!” a man hollered from the back of the crowd.

Stewart guards muscled Papa down the aisle and pushed him toward Hugh. “We caught the colonel trying to spy.”

Papa brushed his hands down the front of his uniform, looking a tad flustered. “How many times do I have to tell you the bride is my daughter, you sniveling maggots!”

With one wrist still bound to Hugh, the primroses dropped as Charlotte reached for her father. “Papa, you came.”

He gave her a thin-lipped nod.

“Are there others?” asked Og.

“I came alone.” Papa reached inside his coat.

The guardsmen clamped onto his elbow. “Watch yourself.”

“If I may be permitted, I have in my possession a proclamation from the Master of Stair.”

Charlotte’s gaze shot to Hugh. He looked like he couldn’t breathe either.

Clearing his throat, the Chieftain of Clan Iain Abrach inclined his head toward their bound wrists. “If you would please do the honor of reading it aloud, sir.”

The colonel pulled out a missive and unfolded it. “I shall eliminate the master’s colorful language about the forthcoming inquisition and drive straight to the point.”

“
The king hath rescinded his directive to extirpate all those under seventy who occupied the territory of Glencoe. His majesty has granted pardon to allow the Glencoe men to return to the Valley of the Dogs providing they agree to live peaceably under the oath sworn by their father in the presence of the Sheriff of Inveraray
.”

Hugh bowed deeply. “Honorable sir, this news is exceedingly favorable, and I swear the Government shall nay have cause to doubt our loyalty by the favor you have shown us on this blessed day. I shall never forget the courtesy you have shown me or the respect you owed my father. This is a wonderful day, indeed.”

Charlotte watched her father’s face while Hugh spoke the words that so clearly raised him up to be a responsible, upstanding chieftain. Yes, he would always remain a Jacobite, but he would own up to the oath he’d just sworn.

Og stepped in, anger written across his hard features. “What about compensation? What about the Privy Council’s hearing?”

Papa dipped his head politely and drew his hand away from Hugh’s grasp. “To answer your questions, the inquisition will still proceed. I have been ordered to present my testament. Unfortunately, there was nothing in Viscount Dalrymple’s missive suggesting recompense.”

“’Tis a start,” said Hugh, his gaze panning the expectant faces. “My kin can return to their lands and, in time, to plant and rebuild.” He again bowed. “My thanks to you, sir.”

“Though I would have chosen differently for my daughter, I believe we have a wedding to finish.” Papa stepped forward and kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “I wish you happiness. ’Tis all I ever wanted for you, the rose of my heart.”

Lachlan picked up the posy and handed it to her. “Can we get on with the wedding now? I’m starved.”

Hearty laughter pealed from the crowd.

Charlotte’s heart swelled as she gazed into Hugh’s eyes, barely hearing the priest as he chanted the ceremony that would bind them as man and wife forever.

Though the clan had pulled out all the stops and managed a grand feast for Hugh and Charlotte, he had never been so happy to spirit away from them. He carried her all the way up the hill to their new shieling beside the pool. The gentle music from the babbling burn welcomed them.

“I was planning to cut a path with steps, but with your father’s news, I suppose that will have to wait,” he said, taking the last few steps before they reached the door.

“’Tis a grand reason to wait.” She curled against him, running her finger over his new cravat. “You looked ever so handsome tonight. I’ve never seen you in such finery.”

“Thanks to Sir Robert. He delivered a suit of clothes befitting a Highland chief—said it was his wedding gift.”

Hugh pulled the latch and crossed the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. He thought of setting her down on the bed, but that wouldn’t be right—not for his wife. He must give her time to grow accustomed to their surroundings. Gently, he set Charlotte on her feet in the middle of the one-room shieling. “At least ’tis warm. I stoked the fire afore the ceremony.” He gestured to the fireplace. “And I built a proper stone hearth so the smoke doesn’t hang in the air. I ken how much it can bother your eyes.” He stood awkwardly for a moment—then realized they could barely see a thing. “I’ve a lamp.”

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded as nervous as he felt.

Like a lad, he hastened to the fire and lit a twig. He’d made an oil lantern out of an old wine bottle. Lighting that and a pair of tallow candles, he tossed the twig onto the fire and turned.

Lord, he’d married the bonniest lass in all the world. She smiled, her hands clasped in front of her gown. Made of silk and edged with lace, it was embroidered with violets that matched her eyes—even had violet silk roses gathering the cuffs at her elbows. Hugh had noticed how perfectly the gown formed to her feminine shape as she walked toward him during the ceremony. Aye, she remained a well-bred Sassenach from London.

He gestured to the walls with uncertainty twisting his gut. “’Tis a bit rustic.”

“’Tis perfect.” Her genuine grin made all trepidation slide from his shoulders. He’d worked like a dog to make this night comfortable for her, the whole time thinking it wasn’t good enough.

She glanced around him to the hearth and walked forward. Wrapping her fingers around the handle of a cast-iron pot, she lifted it. “Where on earth did you find this sturdy cookware?”

Och, she was indeed an angel. Hugh grinned. “Ever since you brought the sheep, I’ve been slipping to my old cottage at night and digging through the rubble—it hasn’t been looted like those in the glen, and some things survived the blaze—like these.” He and Og had scrubbed them with pumice to remove the creosote stains and they looked almost new.

Charlotte set the pot down and brushed her fingers over the well-oiled mantel Hugh had hewn from an oak. Slowly she walked around the cottage, past the big bed he’d built with its straw mattress—he’d have a feather bed for her soon. She stopped in the center of the chamber and placed both her hands on the back of a chair he’d fashioned from birch wood. “Only two chairs at the table?”

“Aye.” Hugh chewed his lower lip.

“We shall need more once children come.” Lord, her cheeks took on a rosy glow.

Hugh chuckled and crossed the distance, taking her into his arms. “Och, you have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you utter those words.”

“I’ve waited far too long for this day, my love,” she whispered, her eyes awash with joy and tears.

Reaching up, he gently tugged off her veil. “I still cannot believe you are mine.”

She untied his cravat, her breathing suddenly shallow. “Believe it, husband. Believe it.”

Fighting his urge to haul her to the bed—like he’d dreamed of doing so often, he removed the pins from her hair, running his fingers through angel-soft tresses. Oh yes, this night would be far more memorable if he took his time—savored removing every stitch of clothing, every bit of lace. Peering over her shoulder, Hugh twirled the ribbon of her bodice around his finger, then caught the end and tugged.

With every piece of her dainty clothing, Charlotte unfastened one of his. After the cravat sailed to the floor beside her bodice and corset, she unpinned the plaid at his shoulder and held up the brooch. “Is this your clan badge?”

“A likeness, aye.” It wasn’t Da’s—the one Hugh was supposed to inherit, but the near-perfect copy had been his since his parents had given it to him when he reached his majority.

“’Tis yours?”

He nodded. Later he’d tell her his treasure box buried beneath his longhouse survived. Since two nights ago, he hadn’t been as destitute and poor as he’d thought. “Charlotte, I’ve so much to say.”

She held her finger to his lips. “We have a lifetime to reveal our secrets.”

In a bold move, she took his hand and led him to the bed.

Ever so eager to follow, Hugh’s mouth suddenly went dry. Hell, he couldn’t even manage a swallow. “Are you ready, my love?” he croaked.

Licking those delectable lips, she nodded. “I want you more than the air I breathe.”

No words had ever been so arousing. “You’ve made me so incredibly happy.” He stepped behind her and swept her tresses aside, caressing her neck with fluttering kisses.

With a wee gasp, she shivered and rolled her head back. “That feels divine.”

It only took a tug to untie her overskirt, sending it whooshing to the floorboards. Two flannel petticoats remained over her shift. Hugh placed his hands on her hips with a rolling snicker. Would Charlotte ever cease to amaze him? “I never would have thought a gentlewoman would be one to sport a red petticoat, m’lady.”

A wee laugh curled from Charlotte’s throat, so sultry it sent his cock rigid. “Red’s the latest fashion in London.”

“Aye?” He slowly unlaced the first bow. “Mayhap English women have a bit more spirit than their male counterparts.”

Her stately profile regarded him over her shoulder. “Mm, I would definitely agree to that.”

As the petticoat fell away from her body, Charlotte turned, placing her palm on his chest. “I do believe it is your turn.”

“Och, but you are wearing so many more layers.”

“Mm hmm.” She trailed a finger down to the deerskin sporran suspended from a chain around his hips. “What do you keep in there?”

When she tapped it, the intensity of his shuddering inhale surprised even him. God, he might not make it onto the bed. “A few coins,” his voice strained. “A wee dagger, a handful of musket balls, and a flint.”

When he reached to unclasp it, Charlotte slipped around him and brushed his hands away. “I’ll do it.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” Mercy, his voice had grown as husky as the smithy’s rasp.

Being undressed by Charlotte ratcheted up his desire even higher. Though he stood still, his breathing sped as if he’d run up a flight of stairs. After she placed the sporran on the bed, she smoothed her fingers around his leather belt, sauntering around him until she arrived at the big brass buckle. “Now this.”

Hugh hoped she’d say that, too. If she grew any more assertive with him, she might just drive him to utter madness. “Once you remove my plaid,” he growled. “I’ll be completely and utterly naked.”

“’Tis what I want.” Her tongue snuck to the corner of her mouth, her fingers had a slight tremor as she tugged his belt and the plaid cascaded to the floor. Hugh didn’t move while she stood back and raked her gazed down his body. Only Charlotte had ever stopped to drink him in like that, stare at his abdomen, his thighs, his rock-hard cock. It made him desperate to rip off her final petticoat and shift and do the same to his wife.

He took in a sudden inhale when she brushed her lithe fingers along his length. “Every inch of you is sculpted as if hewn from marble. Is there no part of your body that isn’t hard?”

“Nay, lass.” He thrust his hips forward. “More than anything else, this is hard for you.”

Grinning, Hugh took a swaggering step and clamped his hands on her shapely hips. Lord in heaven he wanted to go slowly, but she’d pushed him to the ragged edge. “I’ve yet to unlace your last petticoat.” His gaze traveled down her body and stopped at her waist. “May I?”

Closing her eyes, she nodded and stood perfectly still while the last flannel petticoat slipped away from her waist. Standing in nothing but her linen shift, Hugh ran his finger around the lace neckline. “Now this.”

Lids fanned with honeyed lashes gradually opened and she raised her hands.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Not anymore.”

Within a blink, he had her completely disrobed. Charlotte’s arms flew across her body. Hugh slid his fingers over her wrists. “Let me gaze upon perfection.”

She looked away with a shake of her head. “I’m not.”

He coaxed open her arms, ever so slowly. “Aye, but you’re wrong, lass.” God save him, he could scarcely take a breath. It had been so long since he’d seen her disrobed and now he swore she’d grown more beautiful. “I have to be the luckiest man alive.”

He could restrain himself no longer. Wrapping the love of his life in his arms, he covered her mouth with a claiming, heart-stopping, bone-shattering kiss. Lord, the woman knew how to please him in every way. Even if she had a wart on her nose, he could love no one else in this world as he loved Charlotte Hill MacIain. He ground himself against her, his cods afire—demanding relief from the pent up desire he’d ignored for months.

Before he completely lost his head, he lifted her into his arms. As he rested Charlotte on her back, he kneeled over and kissed her, their mouth’s joining in a dance that had now become enticingly familiar. Trailing kisses down her neck, he moved his hand to her breast and caressed the most succulent flesh he’d ever had the honor of touching. Charlotte arched into him and bucked. “Please, Hugh. I cannot wait much longer.”

“Mm hmm.” But his mouth didn’t stop. He ran kisses all the way down her body, lingering for a moment over her nether parts, his hot breath teasing her, drinking in the ambrosia of her sex.

Moaning, she circled her hips for him. “Pleeeease. I need you now.”

He slid back up her body and pushed between her legs, ready to explode. “I, too, can wait no more.”

Charlotte opened her eyes, so incredibly dark. Her lips swollen and seductive, his entire body shuddered as if he might spill his seed right then. He ground his hips against her core, his cock catching at her entrance. Heaven help him, she was so wet—so ready.

With a gasp catching in his throat he slid inside heaven.

Charlotte’s fingers gripped his buttocks. “Faster. Deeper.”

All Hugh could do was hold on and thrust. The world became a shower of starlight as together they rode the wave of passion. Her high-pitched mewls sent his mind into utter oblivion. All he could think of was how good this felt and how lucky he was to have this woman as his wife. With a cry catching in the back of her throat, Charlotte shattered into a thousand trembling shudders. The friction blew his mind as with two more deep thrusts he met her at the peak and roared with the potent force of his release.

When he recovered his breath, he pushed up, staring at the most unbelievably fantastic woman of all his imaginings. “My God, I will love you forever.”

She cupped his cheek and smiled. “You’ve no idea how happy you’ve made me. I am fulfilled in every way.”