Authors: Patricia McAllister
“My bath!” she faintly protested, but only once, for as Ran lowered her to the heather-scented, cool linen sheets, he silenced her with a heady kiss and his shadow fell over her like a bird of prey.
“I’ll take you swimming in a lovely little burn sometime, m’lass,” he said huskily, shoving the unneeded nightgown aside and sealing his vow by raining a hundred little kisses over her breasts and belly. Merry’s head fell back against the snowy pillows, her body framed by the living flames of her hair. With a low groan of pure delight, Ran lowered his masculine frame into the sweetly feminine cradle of her hips, branding her with lips which were fierce, eager and hard.
Then he backed off and captured the globe of a satiny breast in one hand, leisurely laving the dusky nipple with his tongue, waiting until she arched against him to press his advantage home. As Merry writhed beneath his expert touch, he gently shifted his position to bring his rigid manhood in contact with her woman’s mont.
“Do you want me, Merry?” Ran whispered, and when her eyelashes fluttered open, he found himself gazing into rain-colored eyes swirling with emotion.
She nodded restlessly, clutched in the grip of a raging fever of a different sort. Her voice was low and husky. “Love me, milord, please …”
As if he could not! With a groan of pure bliss, he inched home, wrenching a cry of wonder and discomfort from Merry as she gripped his shoulders and felt him bearing slowly, slowly down. Her last defense fell away with a little cry, smothered by his hungry mouth, then he showered a bevy of kisses over her throat and face.
At last! At last! Fleeting pain gave way to silken waves of pleasure as he moved against her, hips moving in little circles while she moaned. If all was lost, Merry knew she would have this sweet, torrid moment forever, the precious feeling of Ran clutched to her heart, the memory of the passionate love song they shared this night. As Ran moved against her, strong and solid and warm, she felt the reassuring essence of his maleness surrounding her like a velvet cloak, completely within and without, carrying her to an unknown peak high above all others, where they alone would rule.
On her own wedding night, Merry finally learned the precious secret that had bonded men and women for centuries, the inexplicable pull of two separate and yet perfectly matched souls, straining together against the stars.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BY MORNING, WHEN THE candles in the room had all melted to sodden lumps and the bathwater had cooled to a tepid degree, Ran drew Merry from the rumpled sheets to the tub.
“I’ll scrub your back, lass,” he offered, helping her step into the high metal tub, flicking admiring glances over her body. He knew Merry was sore from his ardent attentions, but her skin was flushed and her eyes bright as she sank down to her hips in the water.
“Ooh! ’Tis cold.”
“Not for long.” She glanced back in surprise as Ran suddenly joined her in the tub, settling down close behind her and raising the water another good foot. With him he brought a round cake of hard soap and lathered it fiercely in his palms before he brought them down against her back.
The heady scent of lavender soon filled the air. Nell had left a wicker basket of scented soaps as a wedding gift. Ran’s hands glided over Merry’s back, arms, and sides, then slipped beneath the water to playfully nudge the cake of soap between her legs.
“Shall I finish your toilette. Lady Lindsay?” Ran breathed suggestively in her ear, and Merry laughed softly, then purred like a kitten while he soaped her thighs and buttocks with an air that was anything but impersonal.
Finally he finished, and she took her turn with the soap, turning about in the tub as best she could and covering Ran in the rich lather until he reeked of lavender. Wrinkling his nose, he said, “I think I prefer the stench of good, honest Scotch.”
Merry playfully splashed some water against his chest. “Take your pick, you Highland brute.”
In lightning reply, Ran seized her by both wrists and gently, slowly, drew her into his arms. The water was icy now, but the warmth of their bodies was enough. Merry shivered for an entirely different reason, and when his mouth claimed hers with swiftly rising passion, she succumbed to the fresh tide of desire washing over them both.
Then, over his shoulder, she spied a pink light spreading across the leaded windowpane. Tearing her lips free of his, Merry squeaked, “’Tis nigh dawn already!”
“Aye, so ’tis.” Lazily Ran rose and stepped from the tub, grabbing a couple of soft cloths to blot both himself and his lady wife dry. Still damp and shivering afterward, Merry dove back into the bed and pulled the cool linen sheet and counterpane up to her chin. From the middle of the floor Ran stood watching her, amused.
“Best get used to wandering about without any clothes, milady,” he teased her. “I intend to keep ye in a constant state of dishabille for the next month or so.”
She gave him a mock scowl. “Only a month?”
“Just till I’m sure I’ve safely planted our first son in your sweet little belly,” he said, hurrying to join her in the bed and yanking the covers back over them both.
His words caused a peculiar sensation to flutter through Merry’s stomach. “D’you want a lot of children, Ran?”
“Aye, lass. Lots and lots,” he assured her distractedly, nuzzling her neck and breasts until Merry pushed him away and demanded, “Exactly how many? Two? Four? Six?”
“Eight or so should do nicely,” he murmured, nipping playfully at her earlobe.
“Eight!” she squealed in genuine shock.
“All right,” Ran sighed, then added agreeably, “Ten, madam, but not a single bairn more. Even an earl doesn’t boast bottomless coffers.”
Merry scowled at him. “I’ll have you know I’m not a broodmare, sirrah.”
“Nay,” he agreed pleasantly, “you are my wife. Whom I have promised to care for and in turn she has agreed to fulfill her duties. And I crave a couple of bairns from your loins, Merry. A son to carry on my name, and a wee lassie to spoil. Is it too much to ask?”
Merry gave him her answer by snuggling contentedly in the circle of his arms. “Are you happy, Ran?”
“At this moment, never more so,” he confirmed quietly. “Ah, lass, never more so.”
* * *
BY MIDMORNING THE NEWLYWEDS finally managed to straggle from their nuptial bed and get dressed. Some of the wedding company had stayed overnight at Edzell, and Lord and Lady Deuchar had pressing duties as host and hostess.
While Ran slipped out to find a fresh set of clothes, Merry summoned Nell, and with the maid’s help donned a gown of burnt-orange silk edged with black braid. Nell used a pair of hot tongs to curl Merry’s hair up from her forehead so she could wear a fashionable shadow, or headdress, that matched the gown. It was a small lace cap, often worn by married women in the country. Hers was black lace trimmed with orange silk.
“Ye look grand, milady,” Nell declared with approval when she was finished. “Exactly as the Countess of Crawford should.”
Merry laughed self-consciously. “’Tis hard to believe I’m a married woman, Nell. Much less to The Wolf of Badanloch.”
“But yer content, milady. I see it in yer eyes.”
Merry didn’t deny it. “Yea,” she said softly. “I think things may work out very well.”
At that moment there came a rat-a-tat at the door, and Nell admitted another maid with a sleepy Ashet cradled in her arms.
“I apologize, milady,” the maid said, “but this wee girlie is needin’ her mam right quick.”
“Of course! Bring her in,” Merry said, smiling as Nell moved eagerly forward to take the little girl into her arms. She waited while Nell fed the baby, and it was that charming domestic scene that Ran happened upon when he returned to the chamber freshly shaved and dressed.
Seeing his beautiful new wife cooing over a bairn, a fleeting emotion of quiet pain and calm resignation coursed through him. Memories of Blair joined with guilt and he had to force himself to stay, when his first instinct was to turn and rush out of the room. Merry was not to blame for his emotions, nor the conflict raging with his heart, but he could not stop the tide of resentment as he watched her dandling the babe in her arms. Damme, it should be Blair here with him, and it should be their wee one, the precious Lindsay heir who had died in the cradle of his first wife’s belly.
Merry noticed Ran’s eyes darkening and wondered what prompted the sudden change in mood, but she had no chance to ask. He curtly informed her it was time to return to Auchmull, and suggested she and Nell finish packing. Having expected to stay on a couple days, after such a harrowing journey, Merry gazed at him nonplussed, but he simply spun on his heel and left.
A short time later, Merry and Nell joined the others in the great hall. “Are you ready?” Ran asked the two women. He seemed distracted, and Merry felt a distance between them that had not been there last night.
Nell nodded. “All set, m’laird. Will ye require m’further services at Auchmull one day?”
Merry saw the hope in the young woman’s eyes. “Of course you must come see us, Nell. I should like you to come along whenever we visit Court. This new countess needs help just getting dressed.”
“Oh, I figured ye’d keep fancier company when ye went to Court wi’ Lord Lindsay,” Nell said, but she looked delighted at the news. “Then wi’ yer permission I’ll ride a wee way in the wagon to get some fresh air and say good-bye. I can walk back; the exercise will do me good.”
Ran agreed, with the condition Nell accept an escort on the way back. It seemed Hugo was quick to volunteer. Merry noted Nell’s faint blush at the blond giant’s obvious interest. Hugo was several years older than Gilbert, and his enormous size made him seem even more mature. He was daunting in appearance, but Merry had discovered he had a winsome, rather dry sense of humor. She was pleased by the notion of him and Nell wedding one day, especially since little Ashet deserved both a father and mother.
Darra and her husband were sorry to see them go so soon, but since the whole intent was to satisfy a royal decree, and Auchmull was relatively vulnerable with the majority of the clansmen away, they did not argue overmuch. Merry thanked Lady Deuchar, and the two women parted ways with hugs of genuine emotion. Darra said she was certain she could wrangle an invitation for the new Lady Lindsay at the Stuart Court, and Merry laughed at the intrinsic scheming of the mind behind the pretty face and sparkling dark eyes.
“Aye, mayhap one day I shall test my wit and wiles on Scottish soil,” Merry chuckled as she hugged Lady Deuchar one last time. “But methinks I owe a quick explanation to my English kin first, as they will likely hear of my fate before I return and will be sorely vexed at me.”
“I cannot think they would be vexed at the notion of a title, even a Scottish earldom exceeds Wickham’s influence,” Darra said with a twinkle. “True enough, though, they must be worried about you, Merry. I would be happy to write a message of explanation if you think ’twould be helpful in any way.”
“No explanation needed,” Ran put in, having overheard and stepping close to the two women. “And I fear no excuse would suffice for wedding The Wolf of Badanloch.”
“Her Majesty’s orders are rarely questioned by those in my family,” Merry said. “With the exception, mayhap, of my rather unconventional mother.”
Ran shot her a quizzical glance, and Merry laughed. “Someday you must meet the reigning matriarch of the respective O’Neill and Tanner clans, milord. Until then, suffice it to say Bryony Tanner is renowned for standing toe to toe with Elizabeth Tudor, even on English soil.”
“To be certain, I must discuss strategy with the lass sometime,” he agreed, and Merry’s mirth did not abate in the slightest. She imagined Ran calling her feisty mother “lass,” while she stood back and watched the fireworks. Clearly the mighty Wolf had no idea what he asked for if he teased a fierce, proud Irish Raven.
Reminded of the amulet, Merry’s hand rose and sought the precious article, which she had worn for her wedding but removed that evening while awaiting Ran. Without the familiar weight of it about her neck, she felt truly exposed now. She had grown used to the heavy jewelry and it brought a strange sort of comfort when she was able to run her fingers over the embedded bird in the gold.
Farewells concluded, the party departed for Auchmull. As they rode up the final steep, treacherous path, the castle rose like a dark behemoth from the plains behind them. Looking back, Stirling Tower and its solid outline was somehow frightening, sketched against an angry sky. Black clouds roiled above the keep; another winter storm nipped at their heels, like a dark omen of sorts. Merry saw Ran’s mouth tighten as he surveyed the castle from a distance. Was he remembering a day not so long ago that he had wed another, and in essence led her to her grave?
Merry wanted to reach out and trace his frown, wiping all misery and guilt away with it, replacing darker emotions with the wonder and joy of a new love. Yet she sensed he held her at arm’s length emotionally despite the sweet passion of their wedding night, and more than a twinge of pain resulted from this realization. Her gaze sculpted Ran longingly, wishing he would glance over and smile or nod, just a simple acknowledgment of her presence, but she saw his attention was focused on the receding castle.
Lord Deuchar had supplied a brace of his own men for additional escort, so the odds of another attack were slim. Still Merry sensed Ran’s preoccupation. She forced herself to look to the future instead, for as long as there was a chance Ran might come to love her, she would cling to it with all the tenacity of an English rose transplanted in harsh Scottish soil.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AUCHMULL WAS EXACTLY AS Merry remembered. Being Lady Lindsay did not change her perception of her new home as she thought it might. The brittle, sparkling backdrop of a Highland winter made it even more beautiful to behold, however. A brisk breeze greeted the riders as she and Ran cantered their horses ahead of the main party. Snow showered upon them from the blue-green pines as the wind stirred their heavy boughs. They rode up out of the valley, saw the castle framed by a glittering expanse of white, gray stone sketched against a deep blue sky.