An English Bride in Scotland by Lynsay Sands
"Aye, I did love him," Kate said unhappily. "More fool I."
"Oh, Kate, do not say that," Annabel said sadly, patting her hand. They sat on the bed in the room she'd first taken her to, a tray of food between them that neither of them had touched yet.
"But I am a fool," Kate cried unhappily. "He was not at all the man I thought he was." She almost moaned the words.
"What happened?" Annabel asked, releasing her hand to pick up her cider and take a sip.
"It was all grand at first," Kate said sadly. "The excitement, the adventure . . . and the bedding too."
Annabel choked on the cider and quickly set the goblet back on the tray as she began to cough.
"Are you all right?" Kate asked, thumping her back.
"I--yes, of course," she gasped, waving away her thumping.
"I am sorry. Should I not have mentioned the bedding?" Kate asked uncertainly. "I thought as you are married I could talk about it to you. But I suppose being raised in the convent, you may be a little more reticent."
"Nay, 'tis fine," Annabel assured her, and then prompted, "So, 'twas all wonderful at first."
"Aye." Kate slumped where she sat. "That first day and night were magical, but things started to go bad the next day. Grant woke up surly and short-tempered. He was hungry, and we had nothing to eat and then it started to rain." She closed her eyes, her expression unhappy at the memory. "We rode all day in a downpour, both of us on my mare." She grimaced and told her, "I wanted to take one of father's horses too when we left, but Grant refused. He said they could hunt us down and kill him for stealing it. But at least with an extra horse we could have sold it for food or something."
Annabel murmured soothingly, unsure what else to do. She thought Grant had been right in refusing to take something that wasn't his.
"Anyway, we found shelter in an old abandoned hut." Kate continued, her mouth tightened. "It was full of spiders and rats, but at least it was out of the rain. We cuddled together to get warm and made love again and it was even better than the first time. But once it was done he rolled away and went to sleep and I was so cold and hungry . . ." She paused on a little sob, and wiped away a tear with her hand. "The next morning Grant was even more surly. He said I was a mess and should clean myself up in the river. But I was not going to bathe out of doors!" she cried, tears forgotten in favor of indignation. "Why, I could have caught my death. Besides, I had bathed just three weeks before we left Waverly."
"Ah," Annabel murmured. She wasn't surprised at these words. While she had got used to bathing in the stream three or more times a week thanks to working in the stables, most of the women at the abbey had bathed much less frequently. However, Grant had worked in the stables and she suspected he'd bathed more often because of it as well.
"And then he started in on my hair being a mess and could I not do something with it?" She snorted. "How, I ask you? I had a brush, but no maid to wield it."
"Hmmm," Annabel murmured, biting her lip. There had been no maid for her at the abbey, she had always managed brushing her own hair.
"And then he caught some fish in the river and brought them back, expecting me to cook them," she said with open horror. "I said, do I look like a servant to you?" Her eyes flashed with remembered fury and then pain flashed across her face and she added, "And he said, nay, I did not look like much of anything at the moment, except perhaps a whore who had fallen on bad fortune. And certainly, that was about all I was good for."
"Oh dear," Annabel breathed.
"How could he say that to me?" Kate cried miserably. "I thought that he loved me. We were supposed to run away and live happily ever after, and . . . and . . ." Covering her face, she burst into loud noisy sobs again.
"Oh dear. All right, 'twill be all right," Annabel said, hugging her and rubbing her back soothingly.
"How can it be all right?" Kate cried miserably, pulling back. "He brought me up here and dumped me at your gate like waste. He said I was ugly and as useless as a stone and he knew not what he had ever seen in me." Wiping her face, she snapped. "Me. Can you imagine? I am not ugly. I am the beautiful sister. You were always the fat, ugly one. And I am not useless. I was born to rule, not grovel in the dirt like a peasant."
"Ah," Annabel murmured, finding it hard to think of anything sympathetic to say at that point. She did not think Kate had meant to hurt her with her comments. She was simply stating fact when she said Annabel was the fat, ugly sister. All one had to do was look at how her gown hung on Kate to see that, but Annabel was hurt anyway.
Sadly, she also had a bit more sympathy for Grant. What had Kate expected? That her life would somehow miraculously continue unchanged? That Grant would provide her with fine clothes, a maid and a castle to live in from thin air? He was not even a stable master, but the son of a stable master, who had no doubt helped muck out the stalls. She doubted he had one coin to spend on her sister.
"Everything will work out," Annabel said finally, getting off the bed and bending to collect the tray. Straightening, she added, "I think you should rest for now. Things will look brighter when you wake up."
"I do not see how, but I am tired," Kate said on a sigh and stretched out on the bed. "Will you come back and talk to me later? I have so much to tell you. It has been a long time since we have seen each other."
"Aye." Annabel smiled, but more in relief that she wasn't protesting her leaving than anything else. She felt even more relief once she was actually out of the room with the door closed behind her, which made her feel guilty as sin. Her sister had been through a lot. All her hopes and dreams had just collapsed around her. It was uncharitable of her to resent that Kate wanted only to talk about herself and cared not what had gone on in Annabel's life during this "long time" since they'd seen each other.
Releasing a little sigh, Annabel walked up the hall and carried the tray of meat pies and beverages into the master bedchamber. Seonag glanced up at her entrance and set down the sewing she was working on.
"How is yer sister?"
"Tired and disappointed in how things have turned out," Annabel said quietly as she set the tray on the bedside table and turned to peer at Ross. "No change?"
"Not yet," Seonag answered. "But I'm sure he'll be right as rain in no time."
"Aye," Annabel muttered, beginning to fear that may not be true. "Thank you for sitting with him, Seonag, but I shall take over now. 'Tis almost the sup," she added. "You should go below and join the table."
The maid hesitated, but then said, "Only if ye promise to lie down and sleep fer a bit." When Annabel opened her mouth to refuse, Seonag added, "Ye've slept no more than minutes this last night and day since he was injured. Ye'll do the laird no good do ye make yerself sick. He would no' want that."
Annabel let her breath out and slumped in defeat. The truth was, she was exhausted, and sleep sounded a heavenly idea. Raising her shoulders again, she said, "Very well, but only for a couple of hours. I would appreciate it if you would wake me up after that. I promised Kate I would go speak to her later."
Seonag nodded and stood. "Sleep well. Ye need it. Ye do no' want Ross wakin' up to find ye looking so haggard."
Annabel's eyes widened with alarm at those words as she watched the woman leave the room. No, she certainly did not want to look haggard when Ross woke up. It would just make Kate look even better, which she certainly didn't need. She was already insecure about how he would react when he saw what he had missed out on, and worried that he might set her aside to claim her sister.
She probably wouldn't fret so much about that had her mother not moaned on about how disappointing she was in the area of attractiveness, and how Kate had looked so much prettier in the gown, and how she was sure "the Scot" would refuse the contract the moment he saw her. Truly, after hours of that, Annabel had been amazed when he had been so kind and agreed to marry her. But then he had never seen Kate. He probably thought them similar in looks.
Pushing that worry away as something she could not do anything abou
Breathing out a sleepy little sigh, she cuddled up to her unconscious husband. Resting her head and hand on his chest, Annabel pretended for a moment that he was not unconscious, just sleeping, and that he loved her and thought her more attractive than her sister and wished to keep her to wife for always.
Thanks to her exhaustion, it was a short daydream and she quickly drifted off to sleep.
ROSS WOKE TO silence and early morning sunlight creeping through the cracks in the shutters. Despite that, for one moment he felt disoriented and unsure of where he was, but then the woman draped across his chest murmured sleepily, drawing his attention to her presence. He recognized Annabel at once, and then recognized the shapes and shadows of their room in the near darkness.
He was home.
The thought made him smile. MacKay had always been his home, but he had never felt comfortable in this room. This was his father and mother's chamber to his mind, or had been when he'd moved here on taking up the title of clan chief. He'd done it only because it was expected, and because Seonag had ordered the servants to move his things here while he was out in the practice field. But it had never felt quite right . . . until now. At that moment, with Annabel in his arms, and dawn clawing its way through the shutters to touch on this item or that, he felt like he belonged there.
He was also so thirsty he could drink moat water, and hungry enough to eat a raw horse. Grimacing, Ross eased Annabel off his chest and sat up on the side of the bed. He was about to stand up when he spotted the tray on the bedside table holding four small meat pies and two goblets of cider. Stomach rumbling, he reached for a pie and popped it in his mouth. It was good, damned good, and he reached for another even as he quickly chewed and swallowed the first.
Ross ate all four meat pies one after another, and then gulped down both goblets of cider as well. Once finished with his feast, a wave of exhaustion swept over him and he decided a little more time abed wouldn't go amiss. Stifling a yawn, Ross lay back down and tugged the linens and furs back over himself.
Annabel immediately rolled toward him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and her leg shifting sleepily over his. Ross peered down at the top of her head, then carefully moved his arm out from beneath her and wrapped it around her instead. Annabel shifted sleepily in response, her head moving onto his chest and her hand coming to rest on his stomach.
Ross smiled faintly and slid his right hand along her arm in a gentle caress. He loved touching Annabel. She had such soft skin. Everything about her was soft: her skin, her body, her heart, and he loved that about her. He also lusted over her something fierce, he admitted wryly, letting his left hand slide down under the linens and furs to cup her sweet, round behind.
"Mmmm," Annabel murmured, shifting closer. Her leg slid over him again, this time riding up and nudging his sleeping staff. She may as well have slapped it, Ross thought wryly as his penis woke at the touch and began to harden. Damn, she hadn't even meant to touch him and he was reacting like that.
Following his awakening needs, he eased her off his chest and onto her back, and then drew the linens and furs covering them down to her waist. Annabel hardly stirred at either action, which made him smile. It meant he could wake her in any way he wished. He could kiss her sweet lips to stir her, or suckle at her breasts, or perhaps slide down her body, bury his head between her legs, and bring her awake with the screaming need he was now suffering, thanks to her unintentional nudge.
His eyes settled on her breasts, round and full with pale rose nipples that presently were as asleep as their mistress. He liked them better when her nipples hardened into sweet little buds he could toy with, take between his lips and teeth, and nip lightly as he flicked with his tongue.
That idea was an appetizing one and Ross shifted down the bed a bit until his head was even with her breasts, and then bent to claim one with his mouth. He caught it between his lips first and suckled to draw it to life, but once it hardened in his mouth, he caught it lightly between his teeth and flicked it repeatedly with his tongue until Annabel moaned in sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ross saw her legs shift restlessly and let one hand slide down to caress her thigh. He smiled around her nipple when her body reacted automatically, legs shifting further apart in invitation. How could he resist such a generous offer?
Nipping lightly at her nipple, Ross slid his hand between her legs, not surprised to find her warm and wet for him already. That was something else he loved about his wife. She warmed to him quickly, seeming always ready and happy to welcome his attentions. He knew not all men enjoyed such pleasure with their wives, and he intended to nurture that and do what he could to keep the fire that grew between them alive.
When Annabel released a long groan, her body arching and shifting, Ross raised his head to peer at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open in a way he was sure she would not allow were she awake. The woman was sleeping like the dead while he was wide awake, every inch of him.
It was time to wake her up, Ross decided, and lowered his head to claim her nipple again. He suckled more insistently for a moment, and then let it slip from his mouth and moved further down her body, running his tongue over her creamy flesh as he went. He paused briefly at her hipbone to nibble and lick there, and then continued on to bury his face between her legs.
ANNABEL WOKE GASPING for breath, her body arching and writhing in the bed. Her groggy mind was slow to understand why her whole body seemed to be on fire with pleasure. Then she became aware that the pleasure was centered between her thighs and she raised her head to look down. The sight of Ross's head buried there, along with the sensations he was causing as he apparently tried to make a meal of her, held her in thrall for a moment and then it struck her . . . Ross was awake.
That realization hit just as her orgasm did, or perhaps the joy that washed over her at the realization helped push her over the edge. Whichever the case, all of it together had Annabel sitting up sharply in bed, screaming his name in a voice that sound racked more with pain than the pleasure she was experiencing.
Fortunately, her convulsive pleasure also had her unable to keep from squeezing her thighs on either side of Ross's head, covering his ears and preventing his eardrums being shattered by the shriek. By the time Ross eased her thighs apart to free himself and then sat up on his knees between her legs, thumping could be heard from outside the bedroom door. It sounded like a stampede of horses.
Annabel didn't bother to turn her gaze from Ross. She didn't care what the sound was, she was just too happy to see her husband awake and well. Chest still heaving, and body still pulsing from her violent release, Annabel opened her mouth to say that, but what came out was, "I love you."
Ross's eyes widened, and then his head shot around to the door as it burst open and what seemed like the whole castle tried to cram their way into the chamber at once. Gilly and Marach were in the lead, uncles Eoghann, Seonag and Fingal right behind them with at least two dozen servants and warriors at their back that she could see, and every single face held a fear and dismay that she didn't understand, until Father Gibson's voice rang out.
"What has happened? Is your laird dead? Is Lady MacKay--my lady?" the holy man ended uncertainly as he reached the front of the crowd and took in the tableau.
Suddenly free of the shock that had held her in place, Annabel glanced around wildly for the linens and furs that were not there, and then simply threw herself off the far side of the bed to use it as cover.
"Lady MacKay? Lord MacKay? 'Tis Sunday. Surely you were not . . ." Father Gibson sounded injured and even a little bewildered at such betrayal. Annabel was not absolutely positive, but suspected that what Ross had been doing was probably right up there with the original sin in the church's eyes. They did lecture on about carnal acts being meant only to procreate and certainly R
Would that he could, Annabel thought wryly and then closed her eyes on a sigh. Coward that she was she also stayed right where she was rather than face the priest. Ross did not make a peep either, though that may have been because he didn't get the chance. Uncle Eoghann was pretty quick to say, "Well, surely ye see that Ross is on his knees, do ye no', Father? The man was obviously praying. No doubt he was giving thanks for being alive."
"Aye, and who would no' do that with a wife as sweet as Annabel?" Fingal asked wryly. "Praise the lord, if I had a wife like Annabel, I'd be praying meself at the moment. In thanks," he added, but Annabel could hear the devilment in the man's voice and caught the double meaning when he said praying.
Wicked old man, she thought.
"But Lady MacKay was--She was not praying," Father Gibson said firmly. "And that scream. Nay. This was--"
"My wife was asleep until the moment before she screamed," Ross interrupted. " 'Tis why she did not leap immediately from the bed when ye entered. I'm sure she would ha'e recovered from her shock at this intrusion more quickly had she been awake more than the moment it took ye all to charge up here."
Hearing movement, Annabel glanced around to see him getting off the bed.
"Now, if ye're all done gawking, I'd appreciate it did ye leave our bedchamber."
"But she screamed," Father Gibson said with suspicion. " 'Tis why we came up here. We feared you had died."
"Obviously she screamed in shock when she woke up to find him awake and well," Uncle Eoghann said, taking the preist's arm and turning him toward the door.
"Aye, and what we mistook for a cry of mourning at finding him dead was actually rapture," Fingal added. "Rapture that he yet lived, I mean."