Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (6 page)

Her heart thumped
in her chest and Bridie screwed her eyes closed as memories started to fling
in. She didn’t want to remember that time, didn’t want to think, so bathed, her
hair damp and thick in a coil and wearing a fresh kirtle she wandered through
the castle, her bare feet not making a sound as she headed down to the kitchen.

Bridie walked past
the great hall Grand Room that was starting to take shape and peeked in. She
tried to imagine it lit by candles and filled with ladies dressed in white,
all waiting
for their dance with the laird. There would be
harps and pipes and drums to play the reels and the place would be filled with
flowers too. She could not wait to see the room decorated with heather and
thistle.
Mrs
Moffat had said there would be
forget-me-nots too but just the thought of them had tears sparkle in Bridie’s
eyes as she
realised
by then she’d be nearly wed.

 Poking out
of a sheet was the sash the soon to be Lady McClelland would wear and, unable
to resist, Bridie unwrapped it from the sheet and held it to her kirtle, remembering
being wrapped in the Laird’s plaid as she’d lain in his bed. And then she
imagined being wrapped in his plaid for different reasons and, though she
wasn’t so bold as to put it on, a shiver of pleasure ran through her as she
imagined the laird presenting her with his sash.

‘Bridie!’

Bridie’s cheeks
burnt as she turned around to his voice,
embarrassed to be
caught
and wondering if she was going to be told off, but instead there
was ghost of a smile on his lips.

‘I was just…’

‘It’s all right,
Bridie.’

‘I’m sorry Laird.’
She put the cloth down. ‘I was dreaming about being a bride, though I
dinnae
think my wedding will be very grand. Not that it
matters.’  She paused for a moment then looked to the laird, her green
eyes narrowing with curiosity, for she was desperate to find out, before Mary
did, whom the laird would choose. ‘I hear Lady Helena is very beautiful.’

‘Enough, Bridie.’
He halted her there, he knew about all the whispers and he certainly wasn’t
going to add to them and Bridie heard the warning.

‘Sorry, Laird.’

‘Away to bed.’
Alasdair said and she went to obey, but then she changed her mind, for she
could always speak to the laird and she did not want to find things out from
Dougal
.

‘You know I told
you I was scared?’ The laird nodded. ‘And you said if there was anything you
could do…’

‘I did.’ Alasdair
said carefully.

‘I’ve never been
kissed.’ She was very practical. ‘As far as I can tell the whole business is
disgusting.’

‘Not always.’

She lifted her
eyes to his, took a deep breath and simply made herself say it.

 ‘Would you
kiss me, laird?’

‘Bridie!’

‘Well you’ve
kissed lots of women.’ Bridie said, because she knew the laird had, too often
she had to hide her blushes when she brought him in his breakfast and Angus had
kissed Mary after all. ‘It would be no big deal to you – but maybe…’ she
looked at him, ‘maybe if I knew what to expect then I wouldn’t be so scared.’

‘Bridie that sort
of talk can get you into trouble.’

‘Aye, well I’ve
already got myself into trouble without the talk. Would you be my first kiss?’
And he looked at her, a year a mother and never been kissed and like it or not,
soon she would be wed and yes, Alasdair thought, her first kiss should not come
from
Dougal
.

‘Just one kiss,
Bridie.’ Alasdair agreed. ‘Come here.’

She walked over to
him and he cupped her face and her skin started to burn just at the touch of
his palms, she could smell his scent and though his face was tough and hard, as
she closed her eyes, she expected something more brutal, except his lips were
very soft and they moved over hers, sort of kneading hers and she wriggled a
bit.

‘Stay still,’
Alasdair said, ‘you’ll soon get used to it.’

She would never
get used to it, Bridie thought, how could you get used to the weight of lips,
except the laird was so slow and so patient, his breath so clean that though
she could not get used to it, surely she would like to, for it was soft and
made her curl up inside, but then he pulled back a little.

He moved his head
back, went to tell her it was over, except despite her just standing there,
kissing Bridie had been a pleasure, and used to woman a bit more worldly,
perhaps he should practice tenderness for his soon to be bride and so the Laird
did not release her. ‘Your lips should move too.’

‘All right.’

This time she
moved her lips with him and his hand moved from her face and to her shoulders,
and really it was very nice. She sort of leant into him a little and she felt
his long breath as his mouth opened and her hands moved up to his chest. It was
so wide and strong but her hands got between them and so they moved now to his
waist and then down to his hips. She felt the leather of his belt and the rough
of his plaid and her breath was a little more rapid now, because Mary was
right, it made you feel warm and not just at your mouth.

She opened her
eyes to check she was doing okay, but the laird’s eyes were closed so she
closed hers back too. His mouth was harder now, the rough of his chin scratched
and one of his hands moved from her cheek and down to the small of her back.
She felt the heat of his palm through the flimsy kirtle and moved still closer
to
him .
She was breathless, the hand that still held
one cheek moved into her hair and he pressed her face harder to his, his mouth
more urgent and her lips readily parted and then as she thought she might sink
in, the laird pulled her right in and there was a sudden cold wet slab of
tongue in her mouth, and Bridie jerked her head away.

 ‘It’s
okay….’ His head moved back towards her, but she wriggled hers away.

‘That’s
awfy
.’

Alasdair tried not
to smile, really he was rather more used to compliments but she was so
disgusted, so shocked, so innocent to it all that he simply could not take
offence.

 ‘Most would
differ.’ Alasdair said. ‘Anyway, you’ve been kissed now Bridie.’

She nodded, screwing
up her face still at her first taste of tongue. ‘Thank you Laird.’

She looked at his
eyes, they were black now rather than blue and his breathing was ragged as if
he’d just come back from riding and his voice a bit more gruff than usual when
he spoke. ‘I think you should away to your bed.’

‘I will.’ She
turned and smiled, ‘Laird?’

He did his best to
meet her eyes, yet he could see her swollen nipples through the threadbare
kirtle, see the blush on her neck and her lips wet from his kiss and Alasdair
found out then just how much self control he had, for he stood there, his face
rigid, as she spoke. ‘Sorry if I spat you out.’

‘That’s fine
Bridie.’

And then, even if
she did not know it, Bridie smiled a wanton smile. ‘Could you maybe show me
other things…
’

‘Off to bed,
Bridie.’

Walking through
the castle, smiling, Bridie felt like singing. Apart from the horrible bit at
the end she had loved being kissed. Mary was right.

‘What are you
doing up…’
Mrs
Moffat asked as she walked into the
kitchen.

‘I couldn’t
sleep.’ Bridie’s face was flushed.

‘Well don’t be
wandering the castle with just your nightgown on.’ It was just like
Mrs
Moffat, Bridie thought; she was always worrying about
her girls catching a cold. ‘Off to bed now Bridie,’ she bundled her into a shawl,
‘you’re to be up early.’

Bridie couldn’t
wait to be up.

Could not wait for
the morn and to take breakfast to the Laird.

Was he
cross
? Bridie wondered as she walked up the cold stairs,
shivering. Had she been rude spitting him out?

All night she had
lain reliving it.

She went to knock,
but then didn’t.

Slipping in to his
chamber Bridie put the tray down and went to the drapes except, instead of
opening them, she turned, saw the Laird asleep, a fur rug to his waist, his
chest naked and bare and she felt a shiver down low as she remembered just how
nice it had felt to be kissed by him.

Would it be nice
for the Laird to wake up to a kiss? Bridie wondered. Should she show him she
regretted how things had ended last
night, that
she
wished she hadn’t reacted so poorly to the full taste of his mouth?

Bridie went over
to the bed and looked down to where the Laird slept - his lips were slightly
apart and she remembered the warm feel of them on hers. He stirred a little,
perhaps sensing her close, his hand moving below the fur rug and Bridie
swallowed when she saw the swell in the fur beneath. She should move to open
the drapes, Bridie knew, except her head lowered down, and softly, gently, her
lips grazed his.

She felt his hand
slide to the back of her head and this time he would not let her move from the
taste of his tongue, this time Bridie did not want to. His tongue slid in, and
now hers welcomed it. There was still a start of shock, but with the Laird
holding her steady as she grew accustomed Bridie could see now why others might
differ, for it felt sublime. She could feel his breath in her mouth and the
slow sensual swirl of his tongue and she remembered what he had said - that her
lips could move too, so perhaps so too could her tongue. She made little licks
of his, and his kiss hastened, and their tongues
sworded
till little licks were not enough for Bridie and she took the wet flesh and
suckled, it was the Laird who halted things, who gently pulled her head back.

‘What are you
doing Bridie?’

‘I wanted to thank
you for my kiss…’

‘You should be a
wee bit careful when you kiss a man, especially when he first wakes in the
morning…’

‘Why the morning?’

He took her hand
and moved it to the fur, saw her eyes widen in shock as she felt the hard
outline of what was beneath - hard because all night he had been doing his
level best not to think of Bridie, and by morning he was fit to burst. To be
woken with a kiss like that was pushing things beyond any mans limits - even a
laird.

Especially
a laird.

Her hair was still
damp, taken out of its
braid,
it hung in dark damp
ringlets.

He was hard still
beneath the sheets, wanted her gone so he could complete but her hands were
searching the fur for him, burrowing beneath and he caught her wrist.

‘Bridie.’ His voice
was stern, ‘you have to go down to the kitchen.’

‘I
don’t want to,’ she begged. ‘I want you to show me…’

‘Bridie.’ He
growled but it did not deter.

‘Please
Laird! I know it’s not going to be like this with
Dougal
…’

Alasdair closed
his
eyes,
she should not say such things.

‘I could try
remembering being with you.’

‘Don’t talk like
that.’ Alasdair abhorred the thought of her with
Dougal
.
He peeled her off him. ‘Go now and see
Mrs
Moffat.’

‘Laird?’

‘This is not to
happen again. It’s to be forgotten,’ the laird said and he saw the flush on her
cheek and the glitter in her eyes and he knew he was lying for both of them,
but for now he stayed strong. ‘I’m to choose my bride and your banns will soon
be read.’

Except Bridie
couldn’t think of that, all she could think of was the laird’s kiss.

‘What are you
smiling about?’ Mary asked when she came back down, for Bridie had certainly
changed her tune.

‘She’s to be a
bride soon,’
Mrs
Moffat said, glad to see that Bridie
had picked up
;
for she worried that the girl was so
labile. ‘All brides smile.’

The laird wasn’t
smiling as he rode with his men through the village.

‘Laird.’
Dougal
stood as he passed and the Laird halted his beast
and looked at him, but said nothing.

He had never paid
Dougal
much attention, had never had a need to, but he paid
him attention now, Alasdair’s knowing eyes took in every detail and there were
hackles rising on the back of his neck as if in battle and no, he decided there
and then, she would not marry
Dougal
.

The laird kicked
his horse
forward,
he would speak with
Mrs
Moffat as soon as he returned. He knew his decision was
the right one, especially when he looked over his shoulder, saw
Dougal
raise a stick to the dog that lay on his back. It
was a side to
Dougal
he had not seen before and Alasdair
was tempted to turn around and challenge him, for black anger suddenly rose,
but there were warriors charging towards them bringing important news - the
English were approaching, not McClelland but further south at the gateway of
the Highlands.