Binding Vows (21 page)

His palms came to rest on her head, whether to guide or to stop, she didn’t know.

Duncan read her thoughts and let her have her way. He didn’t stop her, didn’t want to, and didn’t have the power to do so. He rode on the pleasure of her teeth and tongue until he could stand it no longer.

He tugged her away before he exploded. He flipped her over, savagely pressing her back on the bed and took back control. His lips possessed hers at the same time he thrust into her core.

She clung to him, fingers raking flesh, riding wave after wave of pleasure until neither could hold off. Her release was so powerful his had no choice but to follow.

He poured into her, shouting her name “Tara!”

****

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in the courtyard readied their horses and armed themselves. All the activity stopped when Duncan and Tara arrived.

Duncan was laughing at something she said when he noticed the men. Alarmed, he pushed his stallion forward. “What is about, Gregor?”

Gregor shifted a glance at Duncan and Tara, then back again. A smirk crested under his full beard. “Nothing now.”

Confused, Tara watched as Duncan moved from one face to another. All hid grins before lowering their eyes.

Ian stepped into the courtyard, watched as Duncan lifted Tara from her horse, and raised his brow when Duncan’s hand lingered on her hip.

“Duncan!” he bellowed. He made long anxious strides toward the couple. Everyone watching gave him a wide berth. “Where have you been? I was about to send a search party.”

Duncan turned and answered his father. “We found shelter from yesterday’s rain in the cabin by the old tree.”

Feeling like a teenager who had been caught after curfew, Tara added, “We’re sorry to have worried you, Laird Ian. But my experience at riding horses is limited...and it took us longer to get back.”

“’Tis afternoon.” He scrutinized them both. “It stopped raining before the sun rose.”

“We over-slept,” Duncan said.

“Slept, is it?” Ian stared them both down, his face stern.

Tara’s face grew warm, and a tingle went up the back of her neck. None of the men looked her in the eye except Finlay, who smiled at his brother and winked at her. The rest of the family stood in the shadows of the Keep, staying out of Ian’s way.

I think we’re in trouble.
She sent the thought to Duncan.

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Duncan slid a hand around her waist in an effort to calm her fear.

“Aye, Father, we slept.” Duncan stared at his sire. He stood his ground. He didn’t look away even when the men started wrestling with quiet whispers all around them.

“Am I to understand, son, ye are speaking for Lady Tara?” Ian asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I am,” Duncan said.

What are you doing?
Tara asked Duncan suddenly feeling trapped.

“Very well.” Ian turned to the crowd who had gathered. “Let it be known throughout our land this man,” he said and took Duncan’s hand, “has spoken for this woman.” He took Tara’s, and placed her fist in his son’s. “From this day forward they are handfasted, and known as husband and wife until a man of the church can be brought forth to commence the ceremony.”

Ian nodded to his son, clicked his tongue, and let a rare smile pass his lips before turning to a very shocked Tara.

“Welcome to the family.” Ian kissed both her cheeks and walked off.

Wide eyed, she watched Ian march away. “Oh, my God. Did what I think just happen, happen?” She looked down at her hand still cupped in Duncan’s.

“Oh, my God!” Her knees, suddenly weak, started to give. Duncan kept her upright, while a steady flow of men came and congratulated them.

She couldn’t form words or even thoughts. She didn’t even think to try and read Duncan’s. One by one, the men kissed her hand and pounded Duncan’s back.

Smile,
he told her.

The edges of her mouth lifted up. Her eyes moved from one face to another.
What the hell is
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happening?

Well...

“Congratulation’s, Lady Tara.”

“I’m sure you will both be very happy.”

“Duncan will make you a fine husband.” This came from Fin who kissed her cheeks.

Husband? Did I miss the wedding?
Her breath started to come in waves, her fingers tingled.
Oh my
God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

She saw Duncan’s image swim in front of her, his face blurred a bit. The sun overhead made her eyes squint. It felt good to shut them. So very good to shut them...

Duncan caught her before she went down. His men cheered.

“Ah Duncan, ’tis just like ye to have the woman fall at your feet.”

“I thought it would be ye hitting the dirt.”

Gregor’s boast had the men laughing.

He took her to the main hall, laid her on a couch. Lora followed him in, sending servants to fetch water and a towel.

Tara’s eyes fluttered open almost the minute he set her down. Duncan leaned over her, stroking the hair out of her eyes.

“I fainted, didn’t I?”

“Aye, love, that you did.”

It came back to her in a hurry. “What was that all about, Duncan? What did your father do?”

“He handfasted us.” He watched for a reaction, saw none. “As Laird of the Keep it is within his right to do so for all who dwell on his land.”

“Why?”

“Here.” He helped her sit up and brought the water to her mouth, encouraged her to drink it.

“Are you well, Tara?” Lora asked.

“No. Yes, Oh God! Can one of you explain why the men acted as though we’re married?” She looked 180

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to Lora and Duncan, who both exchanged glances.

“Handfasting is equal to marriage in this time.”

Lora told her. “The men will look at you as Duncan’s wife from this day forward.”

“What?” Tara moved to stand up, only to have Duncan hold her in her seat.

“Try and understand, the men will assume you and I, that we...” His words choked on themselves in the presence of his mother. “If a child were to come, its legitimacy will never be in question.”

“Oh.”

“I can see by your expressions, Ian was right in doing this,” Lora said, eyeing them both.

“Mrs. MacCoinnich, may I speak with your son in private please?”

“Of course.” She kissed Tara’s cheeks. “Welcome to the family.”

Tara took a long drink from the glass of water, wishing for something stronger. “You saw this coming? Didn’t you?”

“When he asked if I was speaking for you, I knew.”

“So they all think we’re married? But we’re not really? Right?”

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. “Duncan?”

“Well...”

“Duncan?”

“To everyone, we are married, Tara. Vows given before God are all that need to come.” He looked at her now, into her.

“Don’t we have any say in this?”

“My father gave me say. I chose you.”

“What about me? Don’t I have any say in any of this?” She took a small breath, his words sank in.

“You chose me?” She stopped, took a breath and smiled. “Really?”

He nodded.

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“I should have some say. Don’t you think? I mean, I’m from the future, your dad knows that. In my time, we have a fifty, fifty say in marriage.” She stood up and started to pace. “Shouldn’t I have some say in whether or not I’m married to another person?

Well?”

“Aye, love.”

“Good. We agree. I should have a say.”

“Do you know you’re beautiful when you rant?”

She waved off his compliment. “Don’t distract me. It’s nice to know you’re not pigheaded like your father, I mean...”

“Would you choose me, if you had a choice?”

“Of course I’d choose you. Didn’t I already do that?” She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair back.

She’d given him her virginity for goodness sake and he held a big clump of her heart in his hands. “Still, a woman should be asked. Given a choice. It’s supposed to be the most defining moment in a woman’s life. Well, maybe not mine. But then again how many women go back in time six or so centuries? Huh?”

“Tara?” He stood in front of her, stopping her pacing.

“What?” Her ranting had almost run out.

“Will you marry me?”

“...six centuries is a long time to... What?” Oh God, did she miss it? Her head started to clear.

Duncan stood holding her hands, looking in her eyes. “Will you marry me, Tara? Will you take me and my name and all it holds? Will you give any child that may even now be forming or any future children my name?” He placed his hand on her flat stomach. “Will you be my wife?”

She melted. Putty. A big fat pile of goo all over the floor in a sixteenth century castle in the middle of Scotland. “What?”

His hands caught her head, focused her eyes.

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“Marry me, Tara.”

Tears caught behind her lids, “Really? You’re not asking because your dad...?”

“Ian has nothing to do with this. There is always a choice.”

Her world shifted. Everything, which was off balance only minutes before, settled, much like dirt after an earthquake.

“Yes.” Was there any other answer? “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

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The night was pitch black, not even a wayward star could be seen peaking through the clouds, sitting layer upon layer on themselves. The evening brought with it a cold, which settled into her bones, making her feel every aching joint and muscle. The leg she had broken from throwing herself into the vortex was almost healed.

Grainna thought of the night she returned to her homeland and the time of her reign. She was never one to believe in luck, but had no other word for how she escaped notice from Tara, Duncan and Fin. Rain and thunder met them when they had arrived, disguising her presence, and giving her a chance to flee.

The first days had been a scalding reminder of how harsh living in the sixteenth century was. Being immortal had its advantages, otherwise hunger would have weakened her body and claimed her existence.

Gypsies had found her and with little effort, Grainna willed their minds to take her with them.

To her, gypsies were nothing but a pack of filthy thieves who could not be trusted. Their knowledge of the land, and the people in it is what she sought.

Once her body recovered, she would leave their side.

Without boundaries or markers, the caravan took to the west.

“Why have we changed direction?” she asked.

“We skirt outside of MacCoinnich’s land, our presence there would not be tolerated.” The driver 184

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spit a long dark stream from his lips. “Laird Ian would not allow our type anywhere near his people.

Grainna’s eyes leveled in the direction they were leaving. “Does MacCoinnich have sons?”

“Aye, three, Duncan, Finlay, and Cian.”

Vengeance formed into a ball of heat in her chest. Swallowing hard, Grainna studied the landscape in an effort to memorize her way back.

The men who helped Tara escape would pay.

She settled back in her seat. Her weariness was fueled by a lack of sleep and pain. In her weariness, she plotted another’s demise.

In the end, she would have her revenge. With every breath, she felt her strength returning. The forest was rich with the elements of her past spells, giving her all she needed to once again rule over this land…and destroy those she didn’t want in it.

****

Leaves started to fall and a bite in the air brought with it a hint of a change in the weather.

The priest was due to arrive in less than two weeks. His time at the MacCoinnich’s Keep would be filled with more than one exchange of vows. Two other couples had been handfasted over the year since the priest had been there. To no one’s surprise, Haggart and Celeste asked the priest to wed them as well. Tara’s rooms were moved next to Duncan’s. An adjoining door made their path each night less obvious to anyone watching the halls. Duncan often teased Tara about her ruse to keep their intimacies from the servants. “They are not stupid, my love. To them, we are married.”

They sat in front of the dark fireplace in Duncan’s room for the second lesson. Her first on calling a flame had ended within ten minutes of starting when Duncan developed other ideas on how 185

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to make heat that night. His sexy beard had grown in enough to be soft and welcoming, making him even more irresistible to Tara.

“I never said they’re stupid. I look at handfasting as a fancy engagement. Once we’re married, I’ll move everything in here.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes shut like he had suggested.

“Do you think they don’t notice your bed isn’t slept in?”

She peered at him out of one eye. “If they do, they don’t say anything. Now, can we get on with this? You promised to show me how you do it.”

He shook his head at his crazy wife.

Soon to be crazy wife.
She corrected him.

Crazy beautiful wife, with plump moist lips, lips
I need to kiss.
He moved in to make good on his threat.

“Oh, no you don’t! You promised.” She put a hand up and stopped him from coming closer. “As soon as you show me this, you can do...that.” She smiled, and closed her eyes again.

“Promise?” He teased.

“Yes. But no cheating. It has to be me lighting the fire this time. No twitchy fingers from you.”

“Close your eyes.”

“They’re closed.”

“Feel your breath. Slowly in, slowly out. Listen to the room. Let your mind go blank.” His voice was calm and soothing. “Feel the energy surrounding you. The heat, hear the crackle of flames licking the logs. See the embers turning orange.”

Sitting in a trance-like state listening to his voice, to his words, sweat started to bead on her brow. The air tingled with static electricity. The hair on her arms stood up. She rubbed her fingertips together, felt a snap. Each breath brought her closer, she could feel it.