Read My Fair Highlander Online
Authors: Mary Wine
My Fair Highlander (25 page)
“But she's a nun.”
“I shall take her if you have not the stomach for it.” Curan stepped forward with Synclair on his heels. His English accent drew a horrified gasp from Imogen.
“Stay away from me,
Protestant
! Do not touch me. I belong to Holy Mother Church.”
Protestant
! Do not touch me. I belong to Holy Mother Church.”
Curan slowly walked toward her. “Then you had best walk, madam, for I will gladly fit the noose about your neck myself.”
Imogen laughed. She tilted her head back and howled with amusement, her entire body shaking. She opened her arms wide and looked upward.
“Is this the gift ye send me? Release from this earthly body in the form of a Protestant? Oh, yes! Like Jesus being condemned by a Roman!”
“You cannot hang her, Curan. You must not.”
Every head turned to look at Jemma. She had her hands pressed against the floor to hold her body up, but she lacked the strength to get to her feet.
“I surely can, Jemma. It is something I do not expect women to understand, but it is a necessary thing. Her crime is grave.”
Kerry wiped a hand over his mouth, but the captain nodded as did Gordon.
“She is mad, Gordon. Even the King cannot order the execution of an insane person without special permission.”
“No . . . No!” Imogen pointed a finger at her. “You whore! You cannot take yet more from me! Release me from this life! Hang me! That is God's will . . .”
Synclair reached out and hooked her upper arm with his hand. She shrieked and turned to look at him.
“I will take you away from here, madam.”
Imogen instantly complied, smiling once more like a child. Synclair looked over her head at his lord. “I will secure her so she can cause no more harm.”
“But ye should listen to God's will . . .” Imogen's words trailed off as Synclair pulled her down the hallway.
“Kerry, go and tell the priest.”
“Aye, Laird.”
The captain left with the youths following him.
Gordon crossed the space between them and scooped Jemma up off the floor. His body was so warm it made her shiver and realize how cold she had become. Her hands reached for him, desperately seeking out his strength. He kissed her forehead gently.
“Easy, lass. 'Tis finished now.”
Finished. A beautiful word, one that promised a new beginning. Hope flowed through her, soothing the aches that assaulted her. There was no more reason to struggle, so she let her head rest on the shoulder of the man she loved.
Â
It was astounding the way relief brought peace to a soul.
Jemma slept soundly, truly resting throughout the night because she believed that the threat to her life and her remaining at Gordon's side was indeed over. It was not that she was English, and that left her with the sound belief that the future held acceptance for her as mistress of Barras Castle.
But did it hold love?
That was the thought that she awoke to. The place beside her was empty, but the sheet was wrinkled, hinting that her husband had slept there.
Does that mean he loves me?
She couldn't put the thought from her mind. So she sat up, finding the task much more achievable than it had been yesterday. Her belly only gave the briefest twinge that she couldn't truly label pain. The floor was cool beneath her feet, but she smiled when she stood up and her knees didn't wobble.
Strength felt like it was flowing out from her heart to every inch of her body. She walked to the side of the room in search of her clothing, smiling when she realized she was alone in the chamber. Relief surged through her, and it gave her plenty of strength to dress. A low rumble from her stomach made her giggle.
Hungryânow there was something she had missed.
A riding dress constructed to be simple and useful awaited. She tugged on her hip roll and then lifted her skirts high over her head to put on the dress. Once the waistband was tied securely, she slipped into her stays and laced them up the front like a bodice. The corset fit looser than it had the last time she wore it. Another rumble from within made her reach for her doublet and shrug into it. With how hungry she felt, the few pounds she had lost would not be hard to find.
Once her doublet was buttoned, she reached for the comb and straightened out her hair. She hummed a tune, eagerly anticipating a meal outside her bed. The bells began to ring, announcing the first meal of the day, and Jemma went to join the rest of her household.
“Mistress.”
The first maid she passed looked at her in surprise, but the girl smiled. “ 'Tis right well to see ye up.”
“Thank you.”
People were hurrying into the great hall, but several younger retainers skidded to a halt when they noticed her. They jostled one another in an attempt to offer her their hand as escort.
“I believe that is my duty.”
Her brother spoke from behind her, his voice deep and rich. “Something that I missed the opportunity to do when you took your wedding vows.”
Curan swept her from head to toe with that keen stare that had once annoyed her.
“I am well, Brother.”
He tilted his head slightly to one side in question.
“I can see that, Sister.” He offered her his arm, and she placed her hand on it with a smile. “However, I am going to stay a few more days to ensure that everything is settled. You are, after all, my only sister.”
“A fortunate fact.”
Curan offered her a soft chuckle before escorting her into the hall. Word had already spread of her arrival, and every soul was on their feet. They turned to watch her come down the aisle, and the men tugged on their hats while the girls nodded their heads. Tears stung her eyes because it was the respect that she had dreamed of, longed for, but could only earn.
Somehow, she had.
But her attention settled on the man waiting for her. Gordon stood at the head table, every one of his captains beside him. But they did not sit next to him today. There were two chairs for her and Curan.
The look in Gordon's eyes sent two tears down her cheeks. Joy shimmered there, so much of it that there was no way to mistake it. He pulled the “X” chair back for her, and no one sat down until he had pushed it back toward the table.
The rest of the hall became noisy once more as the meal was served.
“Ye are a fine sight, lass, even if I find myself wanting to carry ye back above stairs because I want to make sure ye are truly rested.”
“Really, Gordon, I am not sure that you should declare so boldly that you want to carry me off with my brother listening.”
One of his eyebrows arched at the suggestive tone of her voice. A hint of passion flickered in his eyes. Jemma lowered her eyelashes, shielding her own emotions from him. A second later she jumped when his hand landed on top of her thigh and gave it a squeeze.
Curan chuckled once more. “Careful, Barras, I did warn you that my sister is not meek.”
“Was that a warning then?” Gordon reached out to pick an apple off the table. He cut into it with a small knife, splitting it with a sharp sound. He placed one-half on her plate before taking a bite out of the firm fruit and chewing it while contemplating her brother. “And here I thought ye were bragging to me. Ye know, polishing up yer sister's image so that I'd be hungry for a match with her.”
Gordon's captains laughed, but her husband watched her pick up the apple and take a small bite from it. The flesh was sweet, and the smell filled her nose as she swallowed slowly.
“Maybe I was.” Curan answered Gordon, but Jemma discovered that her brother was watching her as well. She took another bite and chewed it faster, shooting both men a warning look.
“I, for one, am grateful that things are settled now and no one shall feel the need to look after me.”
The table quieted, several frowns appearing. Jemma looked to Gordon for an explanation.
“It seems that the Church shelters its own. Imogen was smuggled away by her fellow sisters, and none of them will tell me where she is.”
“The priest told us to trust the Church and pray for her.”
It was a disheartening thought but one that didn't hold up against the greeting that she had received from the castle's inhabitants. Her hope was burning brightly, and it was even balm for her heart to know that she would not have to endure the guilt of Imogen suffering somewhere in a cell, or worse yet, her execution.
“I wish her well.”
There were plenty of raised eyebrows in response, but her husband considered her from behind a frown.
“I do.”
“Well then, ye may wish Anyon well, too, for she has taken leave of the castle to join her cousin on McIre land.”
Jemma swallowed again and noticed everyone at the head table watching her.
“Another bit of glad tidings.”
“I agree, wife.”
Jemma heard the tone in her husband's voice that often sent her temper to heating. He'd sent Anyon away, and he was not sorry.
She wasn't, either.
Her pride might ache, but her heart applauded the action. She reached beneath the table and pinched his thigh.
His hand captured hers, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around hers awakening more desire in her. She suddenly needed to be touched. It began to take command of her attention as her belly filled. She turned her hand beneath his and began to stroke his fingers, one after the other. Their skin sliding against each other was intoxicating; even the bright sunlight didn't make her shy away from the desire inside her.
It made her feel even more alive, and that was something that she had missed too sorely to feel guilty over.
“Since ye claimed the duty of escorting me wife in, I believe I'll take my chance to have her on my arm now.”
They made it halfway down the aisle before Gordon laughed low and deep and scooped her off her feet. Those still eating erupted with amusement. Many of them slapping the tabletop while their laird carried her off.
“You enjoy that too much.”
Gordon tossed her into the air and caught her. “Aye, I do, lass.” He carried her up the stairs to their chamber, never stopping to catch his breath.
“But I confess that I enjoy being inside ye more.” He laid her down on the bed, his gaze moving over her as though he was attempting to memorize her. “However bold or blunt ye might find that, lass.”
“I find it pleasing. Very pleasing.”
“Is that so?” He reached out and flipped her skirt up to expose one leg. He clamped his hand around her knee and slid it up to her thigh. “How pleasing?”
“So pleasing that I wouldn't mind if you ripped this dress off me, so long as you lay with me, no clothing between us.”
He drew in a stiff breath, a muscle twitching on the side of his jaw. The fingers on her thigh tightened.
“No just yet, lass. Ye need to rest.”
Jemma hissed and sat up. She slid her own hand across the sheet and beneath his kilt to smooth along his thigh, but she did not stop there. She continued on until she felt the sac that hung beneath his member and then the hard rod itself.
“I need to feel you inside me, Gordon. I need to be your wife.”
“Sweet lass.” His voice was hoarse, but he captured the sides of her face between his hands and kissed her. She lost her grip on his cock but happily reached for him as he pushed her back while his lips teased hers. He didn't rush to open her mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking along her lower lip in a slow motion before he pressed a harder kiss against her lips. Slowly, steadily, he increased the pressure until she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to penetrate. Liquid fire pooled inside her, like molten metal going into a mold. His tongue stabbed down into her mouth, stroking along her own, and she eagerly accepted it, closing her lips around it to suck it.
“Sweet wife.”
He released her and stood. She ached for him, rolling up to follow him until she heard his belt open. He pulled on the thick leather with a hard motion and tossed the open belt aside. His tartan received only enough attention to keep his colors from landing on the floor. He gathered up the loosened pleats and tossed them in a heap on top of a table.
Jemma reached for the top button on her doublet and flicked it open.
“No.” He barked the command at her while ripping open the ties at the neck of his shirt.
“I want to undress ye.”
His eyes glowed with excitement, and he pulled his shirt up and over his head to finish baring himself. He climbed onto the bed, his knees digging into the soft mattress.
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