tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67212932256732261952024-02-08T03:48:32.651-08:00Romance Of a Love StoryAmberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-82622930363429507222011-11-09T05:16:00.000-08:002011-11-09T05:16:45.188-08:00Claimed By The Highlander by Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_19.html">Chapter Nine & Ten</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/11/chapter-one-chapter-nine-ten-chapter.html">Chapter Eleven & Twelve</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/11/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter Thirteen & Fourteen</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/chapter-one-chapter-two-chapter-three.html">Chapter Six</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/cliamed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter Seven & Eight</a> <br />
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<br />
Chapter Fifteen<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwendolen lay in bed in the darkness, waiting for Angus. For a fortnight, she had seen very little of him. Not only did he continue to investigate the failed attempt on his life and sometimes left the castle for hours on end to scout the surrounding forests and glens he also worked with his army in the bailey to improve their fighting skills.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
By the time he climbed into bed each night, he was exhausted and had no interest in the playful, extended lovemaking sessions she had grown accustomed to in the early weeks of their marriage. The man she had come to know on those rainy afternoons had disappeared and been replaced by the dark, brooding conqueror who had invaded her home and killed so many of her clansmen. He had retreated into that shadow of violence and cynicism, and had taken with him any hope she might have entertained that there could eventually be more intimacy or affection between them. She knew now that he was a warrior, first and foremost. That came before anything.<br />
<br />
She did not complain, however, nor would she ever do so for his leadership of Kinloch and the safety of its people was a primary concern. Deep down, however, she was lonely. Each time she remembered how it felt to be held in his arms at night, she felt a terrible sense of loss.<br />
A key slipped into the lock, and the bedchamber door swung open. Light from the corridor spilled across the floor, and Gwendolen sat up on her elbows, squinting at her husband as he entered and shut the door behind him.<br />
<br />
"Go back to sleep," he said, removing the pistol from his belt and setting it on the bedside table. Next he removed the powder horn that was slung over his shoulder, and last, his heavy belt, sword, and shield.<br />
"Where were you today?" she asked. "Did you have any supper?"<br />
"I just ate with the men." He moved to the chair before the fire, sank into it, and stretched his legs out.<br />
Gwendolen tossed the covers aside. Slowly, she moved across the room and knelt in front of him. "Can I do anything for you?"<br />
<br />
Perhaps he would ask her to make love to him while he lounged back in the chair-for already, her body was humming with desire. She ran her hands up and down his forearms, stroking the muscle and brushing her fingertips over his large, battle-scarred hands.<br />
He tipped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, shaking his head in refusal.<br />
Wondering if he simply needed some soothing pleasures to inspire his passions, she slid her hands up under his kilt and massaged his muscular thighs, but he surprised her by lifting his head and grabbing hold of her wrists. His eyes were cold and gray like winter ice, his voice threatening.<br />
<br />
"I said no." He tossed his head in a commanding gesture that indicated the bed. "And I told you to go back to sleep. I'll have no defiance from you tonight, lass. Go. Leave me be."<br />
She sat back on her heels, withdrew her hands from under his kilt, and frowned at him. "Did something happen today?"<br />
<br />
"It was a day like any other," he said, "but I am weary. I'm in no mood to talk or do anything else. I've already said it once. Now go."<br />
Hearing the sharp note of impatience in his voice, Gwendolen stood and worked hard to suppress the hurt she felt over this rejection which was both sexual and personal. She had begun to hope that she would be a solace for him when the pressures of his position as laird grew oppressive. She wanted to ease the burdens he carried. She wanted to provide him with pleasures outside of the violence and hardships of battle, to be the one who welcomed him home at night, patched up his wounds, and built up his strength so that he could rise again the next day and fight.<br />
<br />
But he did not want that from her at least not tonight, when he saw her only as an extra chore that was making him irritable.<br />
Her head throbbed suddenly with indignation, for she was no man's chore. She had only wanted to do something to ease his burdens.<br />
"I'll leave you alone then." She stalked across the room. "I'll go back to my own bedchamber." <br />
"Nay!" he shouted, leaning forward in his chair. "You'll do as I say, lass, and get back in this bed, here in this room. I'll not have you tiptoeing about the castle corridors at night."<br />
<br />
"Fine!" She returned to the bed, climbed up onto it, and shoved her feet under the covers. "I'll stay here, and I won't bother you with another sound!"<br />
She wrenched the covers up, wishing she could be more docile, but there was no hope of that. She wanted certain things from this marriage and his complete emotional withdrawal was not one of them.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Angus watched Gwendolen from the chair as she shot back into bed like a musket ball. He knew she was angry with him. Hell, it was as obvious as a bucking horse in the kitchen.<br />
He also knew that he wasn't cut out for this. He'd thought he could manage this marriage when he'd claimed her as a wife. He'd thought it would be a simple matter of wedding her and bedding her a few times until she was with child. But the sex had proved far more intense than he'd imagined, and the wife more appealing and intriguing than any woman he'd ever encountered, and that created a problem. Keeping his mind on his duties while she was wandering about the castle in her pretty frocks, smelling like roses was like wading upstream through rushing water.<br />
<br />
He bent forward, cupped his forehead in a hand, then raked his fingers through his hair. His desires made no sense to him. He wanted her, yet at the same time he wanted to send her away.<br />
Turning in his chair, he looked at her gruffly. She was lying on her side with her back to him. She had the covers pulled up to her ears like an angry child.<br />
<br />
He had offended her. She was making that abundantly clear. Was she crying?<br />
Ah, bloody hell. What if she was?<br />
He sat back and rubbed a hand over his face, then rose from the chair and slipped into bed behind her. He snuggled close, tucked his knees into the backs of hers, and leaned up on an elbow. Brushing the hair away from her face, he said, "You want to kick me in the nuggets, don't you?"<br />
"Aye," she flatly said. "You were very rude."<br />
<br />
He was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry, lass. It was a long day. I was tired and grouchy. What can I do to make it up to you?"<br />
<br />
God! Was he really saying these things? Did she have any idea that it was bloody earth-shattering? Not once in his rough and hellish life had he ever groveled to anyone, except maybe his father when he was just a lad facing a beating.<br />
<br />
But never to a woman. Not once. Not ever.<br />
"There is nothing you can do," she replied, "because you already told me you are too weary for anything, and alas, I have disobeyed you sufficiently by not going straight back to sleep."<br />
The ill-tempered mood that had festered inside him all day cracked a small, reluctant smile, and he shook his head at these unbelievable circumstances for his pretty little trophy bride suddenly seemed to have him wrapped around her finger.<br />
<br />
"Sometimes," he said, "you drive me so mad with frustration that I think I'm going to lose my mind, and it's almost comical. Do you know that?"<br />
"You didn't find it amusing five minutes ago."<br />
"Nay, and that's the shock of it. You're the only person in Scotland who can crush my wrath and mash it to wee bits in the space of a single minute."<br />
She rolled over onto her back and blinked up at him with those big, beautiful brown eyes. Something inside him snapped at the sight of her wholesomeness. She was like a fluttering butterfly he wanted to catch and hold in his hands.<br />
Then she pinched him hard on the shoulder.<br />
<br />
"Och!"he shouted. "What was that for?"<br />
"You deserved it."<br />
He immediately rolled on top of her. "So I did. Does that mean we are even now?"<br />
"No, we most certainly are not."<br />
He began to slowly pump his hips. "Then I'll ask you again, lass. How can I make it up to you?"<br />
She wiggled beneath him, and his erection increased sizably.<br />
<br />
"You can make love to me, Angus. And do your absolute best to pleasure me greatly, and enjoy it yourself, as well."<br />
"There will be no difficulty there," he replied. "I'm already having the time of my life."<br />
"Well, I am not. I am still angry with you. You were a brute just now."<br />
He kissed her softly on both eyelids. "Aye, but you'll soon forgive me when I slide into your warm, sweet pastry and make you tremble with rapture."<br />
"My pastry? Good God, you are without a hope."<br />
He reached down to move his kilt and her shift out of the way, slipped his fingers into the luscious damp haven between her thighs to ensure she was ready for him which she most definitely was then he thrust into her with extravagant, soul-gratifying ease.<br />
<br />
She arched her back and closed her eyes. "Ah, yes, that is perfect..."<br />
He moved slowly in and out, deeply and compellingly. "Do you forgive me now?"<br />
She nodded, and he took his time over the next hour, making sure she did not change her mind.<br />
When she finally drifted off to sleep, sated and restful in his arms, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep like that so soundly, without one eye constantly open, watching for danger, awaiting death in the night, and fearing the loss of her and everything else that he cherished. He was no stranger to loss, and he could not seem to escape the expectation of it.<br />
<br />
And so, an hour later, he slipped out of the bed and left the chamber. He headed to the place where he went each night in search of solace. He had never found it before, and sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to try.<br />
<br />
But something inside him felt different tonight.<br />
Perhaps it was the awareness of hope.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Chapter Sixteen<br />
<br />
Gwendolen sat up in the darkness when she heard the sound of the door open and close.<br />
She was not surprised that Angus had left. There was a discord in his life and heart, and she could feel it in her own. She also knew that he had no interest in discussing it with her. Since the beginning, he had deflected most personal questions in an effort to keep her at a distance, and when he did not want her to press him, he either left the room completely, or reacted with anger and violence, frightening her into a corner. Sometimes he made love to her, which was always an effective distraction.<br />
<br />
Tonight, however, for the first time, he had shown some remorse and had apologized for his harsh behavior. It had given her hope that perhaps one day he would open his heart to her more fully.<br />
She lay back down and stared up at the canopy, but knew she would never be able to sleep. She wanted him beside her, and she wanted to understand why he had left in the first place.<br />
<br />
Slipping out of bed, she found her shift on the floor, donned a shawl, and padded across the room. She peered out into the corridor and heard his footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, then hurried out to follow him.<br />
She tiptoed over the cold stones, passed by flickering torchlights, and clutched at her shift to keep the drafts from blowing up under it. She ventured through the arched passageways to the chapel, where she finally found Angus kneeling at the altar, his head bowed low.<br />
<br />
Of all the places she expected him to be, this was not one of them.<br />
She stood quietly in the doorway, waiting for him to finish, but before she could think about what she was going to say, or how she would approach him, he spun instantly on his knee and drew his pistol.<br />
"It's only me!" she shouted, lifting her hands as her panicked cry echoed up into the high, vaulted ceiling.<br />
He stared at her for a few seconds, then shoved the pistol back into his belt and rose to his feet. He stalked down the aisle toward her. <br />
<br />
"Have you got rocks in your head, lass? I could have killed you!"<br />
"I'm sorry! I didn't think of that. I woke and you were gone. I was worried."<br />
He stopped cold, halfway down the aisle. "You were worried. About <br />
me?" He shook his head with disbelief, as if she were the biggest fool in the world.<br />
For a long moment, he stared at her in the smoky candlelight, then his shoulders rose and fell with a defeated sigh, and he held out his hand. "Ah, lass, you'll be the death of me. Come in, then. It's drafty in the door." He glanced down. "Where are your shoes?"<br />
<br />
"I'm not made of sugar," she replied. "I can survive a chilly floor." Though the bones in her feet were beginning to throb.<br />
He led her to the front pew closest to the candles that were burning near the choir stall, and she crossed herself before taking a seat. He sat down beside her, told her to swing her legs up onto his lap, then proceeded to massage her cold feet in his big warm hands.<br />
"You may be interested to know," she said, "that when my father was chief, he did not permit weapons in the chapel."<br />
<br />
Angus lifted his eyes. "What's your point, lass?"<br />
"No point. It just occurred to me now, and I thought you might care to know."<br />
"Because I almost committed a terrible sin just now? <br />
'Thou shalt not murder thy wife in the chapel'?"<br />
"That's not a commandment," she said.<br />
The corner of his mouth curled up in a sly grin."Maybe not, but it should be."<br />
She chuckled back at him. "Aye, I suppose it should. But if we're going to add that, we should also add: 'Thou shalt not murder thy husband in the chapel.'"<br />
<br />
He continued to rub the arch of her foot. "Aye, I reckon that's only fair."<br />
When he finished massaging her feet, she lowered her legs to the floor, and they both faced the altar, gazing up at the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary.<br />
"May I ask you something?" Gwendolen kept her gaze fixed on the window, but from the corner of her eye, she was aware of his eyes on her profile. He gave no answer, so she took that as a yes. "Why did you leave our bed to come here in the middle of the night? And I know this is not the first time."<br />
He, too, looked up at the Virgin Mary. "To pray."<br />
"For what?"<br />
<br />
She waited patiently to hear his answer, but he seemed determined to take his time. At last, he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.<br />
"Tonight I started with the usual prayer for my mother's soul, though I doubt she needs it. She was a saint. At least that's how I remember her. Then I prayed for my own sins, for the people of Kinloch who have entrusted me with their safety and prosperity, and when you walked in, I was just getting to my own treachery two years ago, and praying not only for God's forgiveness, but for my father's forgiveness as well."<br />
Gwendolen turned to look at him. "Because you betrayed your friend." She remembered how he spoke of it at his triumphal feast. She had thought of it many times since then. <br />
"You did not approve of his choice of a wife."<br />
"Aye."<br />
<br />
"Do you believe now that you were wrong about that woman? That she was not such a bad person?"<br />
"I never thought she was a bad person," he told her. "I just didn''t agree with what she stood for. My friend was a loyal Scot, but she was English and betrothed to our enemy, a despicable redcoat who is burning in hell as we speak, and rightly so. I only wish I had put him there myself."<br />
He glanced at her and seemed to realize that he had spoken out of turn, considering where they were sitting.<br />
Gwendolen cared little about that. This was a place for forgiveness. "Why?" she asked. "What terrible crime did that Englishman commit?"<br />
<br />
He faced front again. "He went on a bloody rampage up and down the Great Glen, burning out innocent Scots for their mere knowledge of the Jacobite rebellion."<br />
"Are you referring to Lieutenant Colonel Richard Bennett?" she asked, her brows pulling together.<br />
"You've heard of him?"<br />
<br />
"Of course," she answered. "Everyone knows of him. He was a dreadful villain, and he was defeated and killed by the Butcher of the Highlands two years ago."<br />
Angus stared at her for a long, tense moment, and again, she wondered if he was keeping something from her. On the night of his invasion, she had asked him if he was the infamous Scottish Butcher, but he had denied it.<br />
<br />
"It was your friend, wasn't it?" she said, putting two and two together, and reeling inside with this new knowledge of her husband. "The man that you betrayed he was the Butcher of the Highlands."<br />
Angus immediately shook his head. "The Butcher is naught but a ghost and a legend. But even if I did know him, I would never say so. Not even to you, lass." <br />
<br />
Gwendolen gazed into her husband's pale blue eyes and saw, for herself, the truth. She had guessed correctly that he once rode with that famous Scottish rebel, and that he had betrayed him. She knew the story well. Someone had informed the English army about the Butcher's whereabouts, which was why he was caught and imprisoned.<br />
<br />
This was why Angus was banished two years ago. <br />
This was why he harbored such guilt. He was the one who had revealed the Butcher's hideout.<br />
Angus faced the window. "But I'm beginning to see now that what existed between that Englishwoman and my friend was something I did not understand, and I had no right to judge him."<br />
She did not push him to confess any more than he already had, for that would only press him to betray this friend further, and she did not wish to do that.<br />
<br />
"What has changed, to make you see that now?" she asked, believing she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.<br />
"Because since the first day I met you, I would have done anything to keep you safe and make you my own. I now know that what exists between us is the same as what existed between them. I was your enemy at first, and you were just a political pawn to me, but it wasn't long before none of it mattered." He turned his eyes toward the altar again. "It was the same for my friend."<br />
"But you tried to make it matter with us," she said. "You are still trying. You don't want to care for me, Angus. Admit it." <br />
<br />
"I am the son of a clan chief," he shot back quickly. "I was raised to be a warrior, for the purpose of serving and leading the MacDonalds, who have honored me by placing themselves in my care."<br />
"Loving me will not change that."<br />
<br />
She realized too late what she had said, and dropped her gaze to her lap. She should not have used the word "love." He did not want to love her. She knew that.<br />
"You are a good wife," he said. "I have no regrets."<br />
She felt a rush of heat in her cheeks. "Because I please you in bed?"<br />
<br />
He leaned close and cupped her chin in his hand. "Aye, but it's more than that, and you know it. It's why I've become so irritable lately. Sometimes, I need you so bad, I just want to drop my sword in the middle of a training exercise and leave the men to their own devices, so I can take you to bed. But when I think about you coming to any harm, I want to pick up my sword again. You pull me in two directions, lass."<br />
<br />
She shivered inwardly. "Maybe that's how your friend felt about you and the Englishwoman. He must have been torn between the two of you, and it was probably very difficult for him to choose her, when he knew you did not approve."<br />
<br />
One of the candles danced in a draft, and they both turned to look at the door. There was no one there, so they faced front again, but it took a moment for Gwendolen's heart to slow down.<br />
"Do you regret your lost friendship?" she asked. "And do you think it might help to contact your friend? You could send him a letter and apologize for what you did, and explain that you now understand the choice he made."<br />
<br />
Angus shook his head. "There is no way to apologize. What I did was beyond forgiveness."<br />
"Nothing is ever beyond that, not if you truly express your regret. God, at least, will be merciful."<br />
He gave her a questionable look. "So I should write this letter, just to secure an invitation to heaven?"<br />
She relaxed her shoulders. "Of course not. You should do it for the right reasons -to mend your friendship and honor this man with your apology. Perhaps he regrets the loss of your friendship, as well, and besides that, I would like the opportunity to meet him."<br />
<br />
It was no lie. The Butcher of the Highlands was a famous Scottish hero.<br />
Angus toyed with the hair over her ear, and the light touch of his fingers made her body tingle with gooseflesh.<br />
<br />
"You are a wise woman, lass. I'll be sure to consider it."<br />
"Will you come back to bed now?" she asked.<br />
"Aye, after I say one more prayer."<br />
She stood up, but still held his hand. "Do you wish to be alone?"<br />
"Just for a short while," he replied. "I still need to pray for my father, so that if we meet again in the afterlife, he'll not thrash me senseless, like he did the last time he saw me."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen gathered her shawl about her shoulders. "I am sure that if he is watching you from above, he is very proud. You reclaimed his castle after all."<br />
Angus shook his head. "How can you say that, when your own father must be rolling over in his grave, seeing you wed to me? I am the son of his enemy."<br />
She looked up at the cross over the altar. "I believe he would have understood why I accepted you that I did it for my clan."<br />
<br />
"You made a great sacrifice, lass."<br />
"Perhaps. But it's turning out to be less of one than I first imagined." She turned to go.<br />
"Wait for me here," he said. "I'll be brief, and I don't want you wandering through the castle alone at night. Someone might kidnap you and hold you for ransom, and I'm beginning to think I'd pay any price to get you back."<br />
"Any price?" she replied, with a spark of hope.<br />
"Aye. I'm your husband, lass. I'd die for you."<br />
<br />
A tremor of emotion shook her, for she was unprepared for such a strong vow of commitment from him, and she found herself wondering: was it duty? Or was it something more?<br />
For her, it was far more than duty that kept her bound to him.<br />
"Let us hope it never comes to that," she said. She glanced uneasily at the pews directly across from him, then slid into one of them. "But perhaps, just to be safe, I will wait for you here and say my own prayers."<br />
"And what will you pray for?" he asked.<br />
<br />
She thought about it briefly, then cupped her hands together and rested them on the back of the pew in front of her. "I'll pray that one day, you will be reunited with your friend, and he will forgive you." She gave him a knowing, sidelong glance. "I'm sure the Butcher of the Highlands has committed enough of his own sins to forgive you for yours."<br />
Her husband pointed a warning finger at her.<br />
"Don't worry," she said with a mischievous grin. "I'll carry your secret to my grave"<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
The following day, Angus sat down at his desk, picked up his quill pen, and dipped it into the porcelain ink well:<br />
<br />
<br />
September 13, 1718<br />
Dear Lord Moncrieffe,<br />
I wonder if you will even break the seal on this letter, once you recognize the Kinloch crest. Perhaps I am about to waste a quantity of ink, but I must make the effort, for I owe you that at least, and so much more.<br />
It has been two years since we last spoke, and no doubt you learned of my banishment and my father's death soon after. While I was exiled, Kinloch fell to the MacEwen clan, but I have recently returned and reclaimed my father's home. I have taken a wife, the daughter of the MacEwen chief, in order to unite the two clans.<br />
But I am certain you are well aware of my return, and the status of Kinloch. That is not why I write to you now. My only purpose is to express my heartfelt regret over what occurred when last we spoke.<br />
Duncan I was wrong in every way. I have spent the past two years repenting my unspeakable treachery, and will never forget, or forgive myself, for what I did to you.<br />
My lessons are now even more deeply ingrained upon my tarnished soul, for I have found myself in a position not unlike your own, when you first encountered the woman who was to become your wife. I did not understand the complexity of your predicament, but I see the world more clearly now, and I cannot possibly express my remorse over the events of 1716.<br />
I close in penitence and despair over my ruthless and brutal actions. I pray for you and your countess, and wish you every happiness. And let it be known that as long as I am Laird of Kinloch Castle, you will have allies here.<br />
Yours truly,<br />
Angus Bradach MacDonald<br />
<br />
He took a moment to reflect upon the ache of regret that had settled in his chest two years ago, and resided there still. Especially now, as he wrote this letter.<br />
There had once been a time when he was indifferent to the pain of others, but he had taken that callousness too far. His closest friend was the Butcher of the Highlands, and he had revealed his hideout to the English army as a punishment for taking an English bride.<br />
<br />
He'd had two years to think on it and contemplate his shame. Two years alone on the edge of the world, pummeled by wind, rain, and ice, and the harsh, biting spray of the ocean...<br />
But that was another life. He was home now. Everything was different.<br />
He sprinkled sand on the letter, blew it clean, sealed it, and rose from his chair. A knock sounded at his door, but when he answered, he discovered it was not the courier he had sent for twenty minutes ago.<br />
"Lachlan. What are you doing here?"<br />
<br />
His friend's cheeks were white as a sheet. "You have a visitor."<br />
"A visitor? Who is it?" He tucked the letter into his sporran.<br />
"It's that woman you kept in the Hebrides the one who predicted your time would come, and that the MacEwens would hear your roar, and all that silly witchy babble." <br />
Angus felt a rush of dread in his gut. "Raonaid is here?" <br />
God! A sickening wave of nausea rose up inside him instantly. What was she doing here? There could be only one reason. <br />
<br />
"Aye," Lachlan replied. "The oracle. But you better hurry. She's breaking all the crockery in the kitchen. The staff is scattering like rats, and the cook has locked himself in the wine cellar. It's not a good situation." <br />
Angus headed for the stairs. "What the hell is she doing in the kitchen? Who took her there? You should have brought her to me straightaway." <br />
<br />
"She was hungry," Lachlan explained. "And someone made the mistake of telling her you took a wife. That's when she started breaking things."<br />
<br />
"Aye. That sounds like Raonaid. You better follow me, Lachlan, and stay close." He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Is she armed?" <br />
"Damned if I know. No one could get close enough to search her." <br />
</span>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-75558946124474162772011-11-08T04:52:00.000-08:002011-11-08T04:52:24.040-08:00Claimed By The Highlander By Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_19.html">Chapter Nine & Ten</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/11/chapter-one-chapter-nine-ten-chapter.html">Chapter Eleven & Twelve</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/chapter-one-chapter-two-chapter-three.html">Chapter Six</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/cliamed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter Seven & Eight</a> <br />
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<br />
<strong>Chapter Thirteen</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
On her way to the solar one afternoon, Onora rounded a corner in one of the vaulted passageways and collided unexpectedly with Lachlan MacDonald.<br />
"Well, well, well," she purred, taking hold of his tartan and pulling him into the shadows of an alcove. He followed her up against the wall and rested an arm over her head.<br />
"Have you been following me, Mrs. MacEwen?" he asked. His eyes were playful, his voice seductive, and she quivered with pent-up desire.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Heaven help her, she had not yet recovered from her conversation with him the night before, when he crossed the Great Hall, whispered hotly into her ear, and teased her with sweet flatteries. He was a captivating man-the kind who knew just how to charm a woman onto her back in two minutes flat. Onora would be more than happy to volunteer to become his next conquest, even though she was ten years older and a woman of vast experience and reason.<br />
<br />
"Certainly not, sir," she replied, rubbing a finger down the center of his chest and wishing she could do so much more. "Perhaps you are the one who is following me."<br />
A glimmer of interest lighted his eyes. "And what if I was? Would you call the castle guards and have me reprimanded?"<br />
<br />
She shook her head at the outrageousness of it all, for she had never been one to let any man affect her this way. It was usually the other way around. Her lovers often became obsessed with her, and perhaps, because of that, she had grown overconfident in recent years.<br />
<br />
But Lachlan MacDonald was not like other men. He was extraordinary darkly handsome and divinely muscled-and his devastating smile promised sexual fulfillment with a teasing confidence that drove her mad with longing.<br />
<br />
Men like him ought to be outlawed, she thought petulantly, as she fiddled with the tartan that was draped over his shoulder for they committed the worst kind of offense. They turned strong women like her into pathetic, pining fools.<br />
<br />
"Will you come to my chamber later tonight?" she asked, frustrated that she had to ask, when he should be the one making the proposition.<br />
<br />
He glanced up and down the passageway, making sure there was no one about, then gave her a brilliant smile and spoke teasingly. "Tsk-tsk, Onora. You are, without a doubt, a stunning and desirable woman, but we are practically related."<br />
<br />
"Not by blood," she replied, with a spark of mischief in her eyes.<br />
He ran a finger from the bottom of her ear, along the line of her jaw to her chin, and focused on her lips. "Nevertheless, you shouldn't tempt a man so. It's terribly cruel. You'll break his heart."<br />
Her body burned hotly with need. How was it possible that he could turn a rejection into the most thrilling, intoxicating form of flattery? The man was too charming for words.<br />
<br />
"But Lachlan, I can promise you a night of wicked pleasures, and make all your fantasies come true. It's the least I can do, to reward you for your superb efforts as our new Laird of War.''<br />
He smiled again. "Your offer is very tempting, madam. You know exactly how to make a man suffer." Then he backed away with a seductive glimmer in his eye and left her standing there breathless, almost faint with desire. "I'll see you later in the hall," he said casually over his shoulder, as he continued down the passageway.<br />
<br />
"Perhaps," she called after him. "Though I cannot guarantee I'll be there early, for I'll be enjoying a hot bath, while rubbing sweet-smelling perfumes over my naked body... thinking of you, of course."<br />
He disappeared around the corner.<br />
<br />
Onora continued in the other direction, then stopped suddenly and sank onto a bench against the wall. Frustrated with herself, she squeezed her hair in both fists and let out a near feral growl.<br />
<br />
Flirting with Lachlan MacDonald was supposed to be about power and strategy, not fluttering hearts and girlish crushes. If she was going to accomplish anything here, she would have to work harder to control her impulses, for this was a volatile situation that required a cool head and a steady hand. She could not afford to become infatuated.<br />
She stood up, smoothed out her skirts, and hurried to the stairs.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
That evening, after the music and dancing had begun, Angus lounged back against a stone column in the Great Hall. He used his knife to cut into an apple, one slow slice at a time, and placed each juicy sliver into his mouth on the edge of the blade.<br />
<br />
He watched his wife across the crowded room, dancing a reel with other members of both clans. The music was lively, the spirit of the room infectious with laughter and merriment, but it was all he could do to watch Gwendolen with narrowed, ravenous eyes while he absentmindedly ate his apple.<br />
<br />
A young MacEwen lad with red hair and bony legs encouraged her to dance a second time. It put Angus in a foul mood. The mere idea of any man touching her or bringing a smile to her face sent his thoughts into a storm of possessive hunger.<br />
<br />
He finished the apple, slipped his knife into his boot, and strode with purpose to the center of the hall, where she was still dancing the reel. All it took was one look, and her smile transformed into a shared sexual awareness that burned in her eyes. When the dance ended, she placed her hand in his, and he led her out of the hall toward the stairs to her bedchamber in the East Tower.<br />
<br />
He had never known such desire could exist and for the first time, he didn't care if he was distracted by it. All he wanted to think about was kissing his wife and burying himself in her soft, heated depths.<br />
Everything else, he could lay aside until morning.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Onora watched Angus stalk through the crowd toward Gwendolen.<br />
<br />
It was lost on no one that the great MacDonald chief had become infatuated with his wife and was growing more obsessed with her each day. He looked at her like she was something delicious to eat, and he was a starving man.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen responded in kind. They were two young lovers overcome by fresh passions, which was an astounding turn of events, to be sure for on that first day, Gwendolen had loathed their conqueror with such intensity, she'd wanted to see him hanged.<br />
<br />
Onora's gaze traveled across the hall to Lachlan, who was taking a young MacEwen clanswoman onto the floor.<br />
<br />
Though one could hardly call her a woman. What was she? Seventeen? Eighteen? She was slender and blond and looked as stupid as a bag of hammers, but Onora nevertheless felt a harsh pang of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.<br />
<br />
Was he attracted to such youthful innocence? she wondered irritably. Would he set his sights on seducing that trembling young lass tonight, instead of coming to her bedchamber for a more advanced and sophisticated program of activities?<br />
<br />
"What has you lookin' so melancholy, Onora?"<br />
<br />
Startled by the interruption, she turned toward Gordon MacEwen, the castle steward. His belly was round, his head bald, and there was a film of greasy perspiration on his nose.<br />
She had taken this man to her bed many times when he was master of Kinloch in all but name. But now, after flirting with a brawny champion like Lachlan MacDonald, she felt rather disgusted by Gordon.<br />
"Nothing of any permanent importance," she replied.<br />
<br />
She sipped her wine and regarded him congenially over the rim of her glass, for she would never be so foolish as to allow her passions to get the better of her. She had to keep all options open. She might find herself in need of Gordon's assistance in the future.<br />
"I see that your daughter has found some contentment in her marriage," he said.<br />
"Indeed."<br />
<br />
"No doubt, she has been greatly conflicted by it," he added. "It's been such a short time since her father's passing. She's barely had time to grieve. And her brother... Well. He will certainly regret his absence when he learns of her personal sacrifice to Angus the Lion.''<br />
<br />
Onora pondered her daughter's happiness over the past few weeks and decided it was not turning out to be such a terrible sacrifice after all. The passion Gwendolen felt for her husband was genuine, and no political differences of opinion could change it. She was falling in love with the great Highland Lion, and despite her own personal loyalties, Onora was happy for her.<br />
<br />
"I suppose they won't return to the hall tonight," Gordon remarked.<br />
"Probably not." Onora felt a hand on her shoulder just then, and found herself gazing up at Lachlan's dark and handsome eyes.<br />
"Am I interrupting?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"Not at all." She handed her glass to Gordon, so that Lachlan could lead her onto the floor.<br />
A thrill of anticipation shimmied up her spine.<br />
"He's too old for you," Lachlan said with a smile, as they began to dance.<br />
"He's exactly my own age," Onora replied. "If anyone is too old for anyone, I am the one who is far too worldly for you."<br />
"But I, too, am worldly," he told her, leaning close. "I am an experienced man of war who has seen things most virtuous young lassies like yourself couldn't even begin to imagine.''<br />
<br />
"Virtuous young lassie'?" Onora laughed out loud. "Are you drunk?"<br />
"Does it matter?"<br />
She smiled at him appreciatively, while an emotion she did not welcome began to grow inside her.<br />
It was a feeling of affection, she supposed.<br />
Or perhaps desperation.<br />
Either way, it worried her.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
"First you must learn how to select a sword," Angus said, as he unsheathed his claymore and held it out, point up, for Gwendolen to admire.<br />
She had convinced him to teach her something about swordsmanship by telling him she would not remove her gown until he satisfied some of her curiosities.<br />
"The basket-hilted broadsword is the best weapon for battle," he told her, <br />
"but even the mightiest blade is useless in the hands of a man or woman who is not calm or lacks judgment on the field."<br />
<br />
"May I hold it?" she asked.<br />
"Aye." He moved to stand behind her, and she reveled in the sensation of his body brushing up against hers. "Take it in your right hand like this. That's it. Now left foot forward.''<br />
She let him guide her into the proper stance.<br />
<br />
"If I had my shield," he said, "I'd show you how to hold that, too, but since I don't, we'll just have to use our imaginations." He closed his hand around her left fist and lifted her arm. "You would hold it right here, like this, close to your face at an angle, or lower, to protect your sword arm, depending on what your opponent was doing. If you were charging into a bayonet line, you'd keep it low to guard your belly."<br />
<br />
"Good Lord." She turned her head slightly to look up at him. "How in the world would you charge a bayonet line and live to tell about it?"<br />
<br />
He moved around to face her again, and the instant he let go of her sword arm, the heavy point dropped to the floor.<br />
<br />
He sat on the footboard of the bed, curling his big hands around it. "It's a sophisticated technique, lass. Only the strongest, most able of men can manage it." <br />
<br />
She was both amused and aroused by his confidence. "And I suppose <br />
you fall into that category?"<br />
"Aye. I'm the best there is."<br />
"Is that a fact?" She leaned the sword against the wall by the door and smiled at him cheekily. "Why don't you describe to me the details of your supreme talents? I long to know them."<br />
<br />
He inclined his head at her, then moved into position to demonstrate. "It goes something like this. You approach the bayonet line at a run, then dip low with the left leg, thrust the bayonet upward with your shield, then move ahead with your other foot, strike the soldier to the right with your sword, while you dirk the front-ranked man in the chest."<br />
<br />
All her muscles went weak as he showed her the complex maneuver.<br />
"That's it?" she replied, however, folding her arms at her chest. "Sounds simple enough."<br />
In a flash, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She shrieked with laughter and sighed when he came down upon her, kissing her deeply on the mouth.<br />
<br />
"If you're not impressed by that," he said in a husky voice, "I will impress you some other way."<br />
"I have no doubt that you will."<br />
He tossed her skirts up and settled into a very different sort of charge that displayed an equally supreme set of skills.<br />
<br />
For hours they made love without inhibitions, and each stroke of a finger, each kiss, each whisper of endearment, lifted their passions to new heights.<br />
Gwendolen fell asleep in his arms, exhausted and satisfied. But not even the blissful haze of her dreams could diminish the terror she experienced when she woke up to an explosion of feathers beside her head, as a steel blade came slashing through the air and cut deep into Angus's pillow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong> Chapter Fourteen</strong><br />
<br />
Instantly awake, Angus rolled off the bed just in time to avoid the strike. He leaped to his feet and strained to see through the darkness as the intruder sliced through his pillow and nearly took Gwendolen's head off in the process.<br />
<br />
The prospect of her death hit him like a punch in the gut. It was followed by a wild fury of rage and a debilitating dread that was completely unfamiliar to him, for he had never experienced a fear like this in any previous hand-to-hand combat. But he was not just thinking of himself tonight. There was another to protect.<br />
Naked and unarmed, Angus backed away on agile feet to draw the man away from the bed. The enemy clansman was already spinning on a heel to swing his blade.<br />
<br />
"Angus! Take this!<br />
Gwendolen tossed a dagger at him the same one she had used to defend herself against him when he first came to her bed.<br />
He caught it by the grip and tossed it into the air, then caught it again in an overhanded hold. Dropping to the floor, he rolled to avoid another swing of the intruder's sword. A pulse beat later, he was plunging the dirk into the Highlander's side.<br />
<br />
The man crumpled forward with a raspy groan and fell to the floor, dead at Angus's feet.<br />
He immediately disarmed the intruder, while Gwendolen scrambled across the bed and dashed into his arms.<br />
"Are you all right, lass?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"<br />
"I'm fine. Is he dead?"<br />
"Aye." He crouched down to turn the Highlander over. "Go light a candle. I need to see this man's face."<br />
Gwendolen moved to the table, fumbled with the flint, then struck a flame. She brought the candle closer and held it over the dead man's body.<br />
<br />
"It's the MacEwen tartan," she said.<br />
"Do you know him?"<br />
"No, I've never seen him before. What was he doing here? How did he get in? The door was locked."<br />
Angus searched the man's sporran, belts, and scabbards, then stood up and donned his own shirt and kilt. "He doesn't have a key on him now. Someone must have let him in." He belted his sword around his waist, then went to the door, which was slightly ajar, and looked up and down the corridor. "How many keys are there to this room, and who has access to them?"<br />
"Besides the one you carry, there is only one other key, and my mother keeps it."<br />
He looked at her fiercely. "Would she want me dead?"<br />
"Of course not! She encouraged our alliance from the beginning."<br />
<br />
He came back inside, and Gwendolen regarded him in the strangely sinister light from the candle. She felt as if she were falling headfirst into a nightmare. He had that look about him again-the ice-cold fury she had seen in his eyes on the day he invaded Kinloch. It was a callous bloodlust, and it sent a chill down her spine.<br />
Nothing of the lover she had known since their wedding night existed in the man before her. Here stood a dangerous warrior, filled with fury, and she was frightened by his intensity.<br />
<br />
"You cannot stay here tonight," he said. "You'll come to my bedchamber. I'll put a man at the door to watch over you."<br />
"Where will you be?"<br />
"I'll be looking into how this enemy got into my castle in the first place." He glared at her with steely wrath and held out his hand. "Come."<br />
She put her hand in his and let him lead her out of the room, but first she had to step over the dead man on the floor.<br />
<br />
His eyes were still open. Her stomach rolled with nausea.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Angus banged repeatedly on Lachlan's door until it opened. Gathering a loose gray blanket about his shoulders, Lachlan squinted through the flickering torchlight and stepped into the corridor.<br />
<br />
"Get dressed," Angus said.<br />
"Why? What's happened?"<br />
"I woke up to the blade of an assassin."<br />
Lachlan's eyes narrowed with concern. "Bluidy hell, Angus. Are you all right? Where's Gwendolen?"<br />
"She's fine, but I must speak with Onora."<br />
<br />
A few minutes later, he pushed his way through his mother-in-law's bedchamber door, and Lachlan followed him in. Onora sat up in bed and pulled a sheet up to cover her breasts.<br />
"Have you been in here all night?" Angus asked.<br />
"Of course," she replied. "Why? What is going on?"<br />
<br />
Angus paced around the room like a tiger. "A MacEwen warrior just entered your daughter's bedchamber and tried to murder me in my sleep."<br />
<br />
"Good Lord!" She tossed the covers aside and rose to her feet, where she stood naked before them. "Is Gwendolen all right?"<br />
<br />
He regarded her shrewdly, looking for signs of deceit or treachery. "She's safe. The assassin got into the room by way of a key. Gwendolen said you are the only other person at Kinloch, besides me, who keeps one."<br />
<br />
"Aye." She hurried across the room to a cabinet with heavy doors, which contained a small chest. She carried the chest back to the table where a candle was burning, then opened the lid and sorted through a number of trinkets, mostly jewels and hair ornaments.<br />
"It's not here," she said. "Someone must have taken it."<br />
Angus strode around the bed and seized her by the wrist. "If you are lying to me..."<br />
"I'm not!" she shouted.<br />
<br />
He had half a mind to drag her to the dungeon and employ more ruthless tactics to draw the truth out of her, because something told him she was keeping secrets.<br />
He glared at her in the dim candlelight, while she wet her lips and took in a shaky breath.<br />
Lachlan laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Let's take a minute to think about this," he said in a relaxed tone. "Anyone could have stolen the key."<br />
Angus let go of Onora's wrist, backed away and crossed to the other side of the room. Resting his hands on his hips, he bowed his head.<br />
<br />
His temper was getting the better of him. He knew it. Lachlan was right. Neither the cabinet nor the chest was locked. Anyone could have come in and taken it. And he was sure to have many enemies bent on revenge. He'd killed a number of MacEwens during the invasion. Frankly, it was astonishing to him that there had not been an attempt on his life before now.<br />
<br />
He turned and faced them both. Lachlan was standing with his arm out, handing a robe to Onora.<br />
Angus realized suddenly that for the first time in his life, he had let his passion for a woman take precedence over his desire to fight and defend. When he was with Gwendolen, the whole world seemed to disappear into quiet waves of sensation, and nothing existed for him outside the pleasure they experienced together.<br />
What astounded him most of all, however, was the fact that he had no desire to reverse it. All he wanted to do at this moment was use every skill and talent he possessed to discover who was behind this murderous attempt and ensure it never happened again because nothing mattered to him more than Gwendolen's safety, especially now that she could be carrying his child. The drive to protect her was consuming him like a fever, and perhaps that was the most dangerous threat of all.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Late the next morning, Onora knocked on Gwendolen's door. Gwendolen invited her in and sent her maid down to the kitchen to bring back a light lunch.<br />
"What is the latest news?" Gwendolen asked.<br />
<br />
Onora sat down. "Angus and Lachlan both believe that Gordon MacEwen is the most likely suspect behind the assassination attempt, and I must say I concur."<br />
Gwendolen sat down as well, and digested this news with concern. "Did you confess that you and Gordon were lovers?"<br />
<br />
"Aye." Her mother began to chew on a thumbnail. "But they already knew it."<br />
"How?"<br />
She shifted uncomfortably and waved a dismissive hand through the air. "Oh, I might have said one or two things about it to Lachlan. I can't remember. We've been flirting for the past few weeks, and I seem to consume a lot of wine when I am in the same room with him. At least I think it's the wine that makes me so giddy." She shook her head. "But that is another matter. Your husband questioned me relentlessly this morning. He is positively ruthless. I must look a fright." She stood up, moved to the looking glass, and pinched her cheeks.<br />
<br />
"You look fine, Mother. And yes, my husband is ruthless. That should come as no surprise to you. It's why everyone fears him, and why they do exactly what he tells them to do, the very second he commands it."<br />
"Even you?" Onora swung around and regarded her with accusation.<br />
<br />
For some strange reason, Gwendolen was overcome by a ridiculous urge to laugh. "I <br />
want to do what he asks," she replied. "Not out of fear, but out of loyalty. I know you wanted me to find a way to wield power over him, but it is the complete opposite between us. He has power over me, but not because I fear him. I want more from him, and I am beginning to believe that I would do anything to please him and win his affections. Anything.''<br />
<br />
Her mother gazed toward the window and resumed chewing on her thumbnail. "You don't need to explain it, Gwendolen. I understand." She cleared her throat. "Do you have anything to drink in here? Whisky perhaps?"<br />
<br />
Gwendolen noticed that her mother's hands were shaking. She went to pour a dram from the decanter on the table, then returned and handed it to her. "Did he hurt you?"<br />
"No, it's not that. It's just..." She took a deep swig from the glass. "Suddenly I feel as if my world is spinning out of control. Nothing is the same as it was before the MacDonalds invaded. I have lost the powers I once had, and I feel confused and absentminded half the time." She looked away. "I am afraid I may be going a little mad."<br />
<br />
"It's because of Lachlan," Gwendolen bluntly said. "You're falling in love with him."<br />
Onora stared at her dubiously, then turned away. "No, I am not. He is far too young for me, and I am no fool. But this whole situation..." She poured herself another drink and swallowed it in a single gulp. "Your husband is a very frightening man, Gwendolen. There is something cold in his eyes. I half expected him to slit my throat this morning, without the slightest warning."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen sat down. "I am sure he wouldn't do that.<br />
But was she really sure? She had seen that look herself that brutal, murderous contempt in his eyes. They could go from hot to cold in an instant.<br />
<br />
<br />
When her mother finally seemed to regain her composure, she sat down also, and leaned back in the chair. "Gordon was implicated by the fact that he was the only person besides my personal maid who knew of the key's location. He denied any involvement of course, but he's being held nonetheless. They've locked up my maid, as well. Poor, sweet Madge. She's frightened out of her wits, and I cannot blame her. Something needs to be done, Gwendolen, but I was in such a hurry to escape the interrogation..."<br />
"I will speak to Angus about it," she promised, "and ask if he will consider releasing her." Gwendolen paused. "Unless you think that she."<br />
"Oh, good gracious, no. Madge? She would never go behind my back to steal a key, or anything else for that matter. She is as loyal as they come."<br />
"Not even if Gordon forced her, or bribed her?"<br />
Onora considered it for a moment, then chewed on her thumbnail again. "I suppose one never truly knows who can be trusted. These are desperate times."<br />
<br />
They sat in silence for a few minutes.<br />
"Has anyone been able to identify the assassin?" Gwendolen asked.<br />
"No. There was not a single MacEwen, or MacDonald for that matter, who recognized him. It was as if he flew into Scotland from some foreign land, like a migrating bird of prey." She took another sip of whisky. "Speaking of birds, I believe that tiny swallow in the Great Hall has departed for good. She flew out the door on your wedding day, and no one has seen her since."<br />
<br />
"Is that right?" Gwendolen asked, hiding the fact that she already knew. She was extremely mindful of the little bird's whereabouts, for she had dreamed of her death in the jaws of a raven on the eve of their nuptials. Gwendolen had told no one about the dream, not even Angus, for it seemed like a bad omen, and now she was beginning to think that's exactly what it was.<br />
She decided she would pay closer attention to her dreams in the future. And perhaps she would tell Angus about them.<br />
But for now, she would focus on getting Madge released from the prison.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-4009991397723833372011-11-08T04:01:00.000-08:002011-11-08T04:44:04.629-08:00Claimed by the Highlander By Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a> <a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_19.html">Chapter Nine & Ten</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/chapter-one-chapter-two-chapter-three.html">Chapter Six</a> <br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/cliamed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter Seven & Eight</a><br />
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<br />
Chapter Eleven<br />
<br />
Four days later, after speaking vows before God in the chapel and pledging herself, body and soul, to the leader who had conquered her clan, stolen her home, and claimed her as his bride, Gwendolen followed Angus into his bedchamber.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Dozens of candles had been lit. A hot fire blazed in the hearth. The room smelled of rose petals and wine, but not even those extravagant luxuries could calm the storm of her anxieties for she would soon be lying naked in bed with the great Scottish Lion.<br />
<br />
He turned and shot a threatening glance at the drunken MacDonald clansmen who had followed them up the stairs, teasing and heckling. The men halted on the spot, then backed away and stumbled into one another as he shut the door in their faces.<br />
<br />
He twisted the key in the lock, then turned toward Gwendolen, who stood in front of the window, uncertain about what to do next. Remembering the promises she had made-to be a devoted and dutiful wife-she raised a slightly trembling hand and pulled the pins from her hair, then shook it down her back, determined to do her best to please her husband tonight. If he was happy with her, she might eventually gain his trust and secure a more comfortable, influential role for herself, where she would not fear him quite so much.<br />
<br />
He strode forward, his eyes fixed on hers as he slid the tartan off his shoulder. He unbuckled his leather belt, along with his dress sporran, and tossed everything onto a chair. Next he pulled his shirt off over his head, and stood before her, naked.<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwendolen's lips parted, and she strove to control her breathing as she regarded his beautiful, gleaming body in the candlelight. Firm, thickly muscled, and marked with battle scars, he was an extraordinary image of strength and virility. Her curious eyes took in the contours of his chest, and the ripples of sinew across his torso. Down lower, he was copiously aroused, and the sight of his full male genitalia made her tremble with shock and apprehension. How was she ever going to survive this? How would she know what to do? She felt a strange heat from within, while her mind catapulted with nervous tension.<br />
<br />
For a long while, they beheld each other, saying nothing. But what was there to say? Gwendolen knew what was expected of her on this night, and she had done everything she could to prepare herself.<br />
Determined to relax and heed her mother's advice-which was to embrace and enjoy this experience -she lifted her hair and piled it on top of her head, then turned her back to her husband, waiting for him to unhook her gown.<br />
<br />
He took his time undressing her. He removed one article of clothing at a time, then lightly tossed each piece to the floor the stiff brocade stomacher, the skirts and petticoats and wide, whalebone hoops. Gwendolen raised her arms over her head while he removed the linen chemise, then at last he stepped back to take in her naked form in the dim candlelight.<br />
<br />
She blinked up at him timidly. <br />
<br />
"Do not fear me, lass. I give you my word, I'll do my best to be gentle."<br />
"I cannot help but fear you," she replied. "Not long ago, I watched you fight a battle in the bailey and kill dozens of my clansmen. I saw how you claimed what you wanted by force."<br />
<br />
She shivered in a sudden draft, and he held out a hand. "You're cold. Come. Get into bed. You'll feel warmer soon enough, and less fearful of me, I hope."<br />
<br />
He led her to the canopied bed and pulled back the thick covers. She climbed onto the luxurious feather mattress and slid her legs between the sheets.<br />
<br />
Angus blew out all the candles in the room, then got in beside her. Now, there was only the firelight to illuminate his face. Gwendolen marveled at his handsome features his unfathomable blue eyes and strong, chiseled cheekbones. She could barely wrap her mind around the fact that the great Scottish Lion, Angus MacDonald, was her husband and she had pledged herself to him today before her clan and under the eyes of God. Tonight he would seal that sacred union. He would make love to her, and perhaps put a child in her womb.<br />
<br />
Slowly, he inched closer and laid a large, heavy hand on her belly. Closing her eyes, she thought of the lion in her dreams. Powerful, exotic, sensual, he had come to her in a meadow, rich with colorful wildflowers and thistledown that floated in bright shafts of sunlight. In the dream, she was engulfed by humid summer warmth, and never felt afraid. She longed only to stroke the lion's thick mane. She held out her hand and lured him closer. He licked her wrist, and his tongue soon found the sensitive flesh at her neck.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen opened her eyes when Angus settled himself on top of her, his skin hot against her own. She slipped her arms around his waist and felt the solid bands of muscle at his lower back.<br />
<br />
"Are you still afraid?" he asked, his voice husky as he kissed behind her ear. Her body responded in a tingle of gooseflesh.<br />
<br />
She thought of the dream again and remembered how it felt to be completely unafraid and aching to touch the lion, but dreams were not the same as reality. Her belly was tied up in knots. Her heart was pounding wildly.<br />
"Aye, but I can't seem to do anything about it."<br />
<br />
He looked into her eyes. "I'll only take you when you're willing, lass, so give me a chance to make it so. Can you relax for me?"<br />
<br />
She nodded.<br />
<br />
"I'll not rush you," he whispered, as he touched his lips to hers and swept his tongue inside, while the heat from his body was surprisingly comforting and made her sigh in unexpected content.<br />
He bent his head and kissed her cheek, and sure enough, his reassurances began to calm her nerves. His palm slid up her rib cage, and his thumb settled on the pebbled tip of her breast. He flicked it back and forth, while he kissed her collarbone with parted lips and a probing tongue, sending tiny waves of eroticism shimmying down her spine. Her legs parted, and he settled himself more comfortably between her thighs.<br />
She trembled at the desire racing through her body, while her hips began to pulse. He laid kisses across her shoulder and down to her breasts, where he licked and suckled tirelessly for such a duration that the minutes began to blur into one exquisite path of rapture, leading her somewhere unfamiliar and thrilling in its promise of adventure.<br />
<br />
A flaming heat began deep inside her. She cupped his head in her hands and let out a tiny moan.<br />
He paused and gazed down at her. She felt suddenly lost in a feverish delirium and wondered if she'd had too much wine during the celebrations, but no... that was not the case. This delirium was something else. It was erotic and emotional, and she suspected she was in fact going to enjoy herself more than she ever imagined she could.<br />
<br />
He held her in his gaze as he slid his hand between her thighs and began to stroke her. The memory of what he did to her five nights ago still burned in the fires of her imagination, and the intensity of his expression filled her with courage and daring, and a genuine desire to please him.<br />
<br />
She reached down and wrapped her hand around his manhood, and was amazed by his size and stiffness. "Show me how to touch you."<br />
<br />
"You're doing fine, lass. You need no instruction."<br />
With growing passion, she stroked him, measuring her success by the intensity of his responses the catch of his breath in his throat, the movement of his hips, and the passion in his kiss.<br />
<br />
Keen to explore, she squeezed down lower, but he lightly seized her wrist. "Not so aggressive with that part of me, lass. It requires a softer touch."<br />
<br />
"Did I hurt you?" She was mortified.<br />
<br />
"I've survived worse."<br />
<br />
He lowered his mouth to hers again, and they each resumed their explorations. Angus rubbed and stroked her until she was drowning in wetness, then at last he shifted and positioned the swollen tip of his erection against her tender maidenhead.<br />
<br />
"You're ready for me. Can you feel it?"<br />
She nodded and braced herself, for he would now claim her as his wife. She would belong to him. No other man would ever receive what she was about to give him.<br />
<br />
He pushed forward, hard up against the delicate barrier of her virginity, and paused. "Am I hurting you?"<br />
"A little," she replied, "but don't stop."<br />
<br />
He thrust forward again, more deeply this time, and the pain was significant, for he was incredibly large.<br />
"Are we almost there?" she asked, clutching at his shoulders, biting her lower lip.<br />
"Aye."<br />
<br />
He gave one final thrust, all the way in, deep to the hilt, easing himself into the confines of her virginity, until it existed no more.<br />
<br />
Her body stiffened at the painful invasion, and yet she wanted it.<br />
Angus gave her a moment to grow accustomed to the feel of his body inside of hers. He lay very still. "Are you all right?"<br />
<br />
A bewitching fever was overtaking her senses. She didn't feel like herself. Whatever pain she was experiencing seemed trivial compared to the raw need to drive her hips forward. Erotic sensation flooded through her body, and his initial penetration soon became a series of them, creating a rhythm of rapture that left her breathless. She clung to his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, matching each of his deep, smooth, pounding thrusts, measure for measure, delighting in the pain that still lingered with the friction.<br />
His body grew damp with perspiration. She cried out and tossed her head back on the pillows. She was slick with moisture as he worked deftly in and out of her.<br />
<br />
She was his now, it was done, and she knew that when he finally spilled his seed into her womb, their union would be sealed forever.<br />
<br />
Her mother had been right. This was indeed something to enjoy.<br />
She dug her fingernails into his buttocks, and pulled him all the way in, as deep as he would go.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
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<br />
Angus held still for a moment, acutely aware of the shocking notion that Gwendolen had finally surrendered to him. She had not resisted this most intimate invasion, but instead had placed her body, her life, and her future in his hands, which was an astounding occurrence-for no woman, and certainly no virgin, had ever given herself over to him like this before.<br />
<br />
Another part of him, however-the darker, more cynical sidetensed at her unguarded abandon, for he had never desired passion or intimacy with any woman, much less a wife. Sexual release, yes. Power, definitely. But passion? It was not something he had wanted when he shouted from the rooftops that he would claim a MacEwen daughter as his bride.<br />
<br />
But this was not the time for soul-searching, he knew. All that mattered now was his hunger for her body. Slowly, he began to resume their coupling. He drove in and out of her with a primal, reckless need, and it wasn't long before he felt the hot rush of an oncoming orgasm and was compelled to move faster and faster until it became some kind of wild sexual frenzy.<br />
<br />
It had been years since he'd experienced such a buildup of pleasure, and he had to work hard to rein it in and stall his orgasm, but in the end, it was no use. He felt as if he were making love for the first time but he supposed he'd never been with a virgin before.<br />
<br />
He couldn't think, couldn't even stop to consider Gwendolen's pleasure. He climaxed in a compulsive rage and exploded into her with a groan of blazing heat. He bucked and pushed, and she dug her fingernails into his back. It was rough, wild, and extreme-and it took some time to get his breath back before he collapsed onto her soft body with an immense sigh of satisfaction.<br />
<br />
"That's not what I expected," she said, still clinging to him.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Nor I."<br />
<br />
In fact, he felt a sudden impulse to get up off the bed and exit the room. He resisted the urge, however, and rolled off her to stare up at the canopy overhead.<br />
<br />
"Did I please you?" she asked-in that sweet, innocent voice that made him realize how very different they were. <br />
<br />
"You were fine," he replied without meeting her eyes.<br />
She paused. "I'll do better next time. I promise. I was nervous, that's all."<br />
He turned his head on the pillow and looked at her. "You did nothing wrong."<br />
It was a lie. She had held him too close, enthralled him too quickly, and he was reacting to it now with a sudden rush of uneasiness.<br />
<br />
He rose from the bed and crossed to the fire. For a tense moment, he stood naked before it, staring into the red-hot lure of the flames. He reached for the iron poker and pushed the logs around. Sparks exploded and snapped and escaped up into the chimney.<br />
<br />
He set the poker back on its hook and went to pick up his shirt, which he had tossed on the chair earlier. He pulled it on over his head while Gwendolen watched. She was sitting up now, hugging the covers to her chest.<br />
<br />
"Are you going somewhere?"<br />
He picked up his tartan and wrapped it around his waist. "Aye. Down to the hall for some ale."<br />
"But why? Don't you want to stay in bed? You can have me again if you like. You could teach me how to do all the things that please you."<br />
<br />
He tensed in response to her provocative proposition, and had some trouble with his tartan. He couldn't seem to locate the brooch in all the folds, and was beginning to reconsider his decision to leave, for he was keenly aware of her naked form on the bed, and her enticing suggestions were still reverberating in his brain. Would it be so wrong to stay and teach her a few things?<br />
"How long will you be gone?" she asked.<br />
<br />
He found the brooch and turned his back on her. "I don't know, but don't wait up. You can return to your own chamber if you'd be more comfortable there."<br />
He didn't let himself look at her, but he didn't have to. She was hurt by his wish to leave. It was their wedding night after all.<br />
<br />
"I would prefer to stay here," she informed him, with less innocence and more of that proud defiance he had witnessed on the day of the invasion.<br />
<br />
"I may be a while." He sat down on the chair and pulled on a boot. "And I'll likely be drunk."<br />
She sat up on her knees, still covering herself with the sheet. She crawled across the bed toward him. "Is that supposed to cool the fires of my lust?"<br />
<br />
He glanced up at her in shock, and couldn't help but laugh. "Honest to God, woman! I don't know what to make of you!"<br />
<br />
"How so?"<br />
<br />
He pulled on the second boot and stood up. "Sometimes I wonder if there's a sharp-toothed tiger under all that virtue and purity. Who the blazes did I marry?"<br />
<br />
She frowned at him. "Perhaps you'd understand me better if you didn't feel the need to leave every time we make love."<br />
<br />
He strode forward and raised an eyebrow at her. "<br />
Every time? We've only done it once, lass."<br />
<br />
"You know what I mean. The other time... when you came to my bed... You didn't stay very long."<br />
He felt suddenly as if the walls were closing in around him, so he started for the door. "I'll not explain myself to you. I am laird here. I'll do what I want, and leave a room when I please."<br />
He yanked the door open.<br />
<br />
"Even if you leave your wife unsatisfied?"<br />
He halted abruptly in the doorway, seething with a mixture of fury and arousal, which had not abated since the moment she'd offered to let him have her again.<br />
<br />
He turned and reentered the room. She stared at him with wide eyes terrified, probably, that she had crossed a line, which she most definitely had.<br />
<br />
He kicked the door shut behind him and strode back to the bed for he had something important to prove to her: Angus the Lion never left any woman unsatisfied. Especially not his wife.<br />
<br />
***<br />
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<br />
Gwendolen sat frozen in shock as her husband approached, for she was baffled by the stormy nature of her emotions. One minute she was overcome with desire and enraptured with her new husband. The next minute, she was shouting insults at him across the room and bracing herself for his sexual retaliation.<br />
<br />
She had not intended to rouse his anger, but he couldn't just leave her like that. This was their wedding night, and he had just put an end to her life as a virgin.<br />
<br />
He advanced to the side of the bed and pointed at the mattress in front of him. "Right here."<br />
She moved to the place where he indicated.<br />
"Now lie back."<br />
<br />
She did as he commanded, and he wrapped his arms around her thighs and dragged her to the edge of the bed. He placed his hands on her knees and looked down at her. Her legs stretched wide, opening for him.<br />
Feet still on the floor, he leaned over her and laid hot, openmouthed kisses on her breasts. His callused hands stroked up and down her sides, over her hips and down to her calves, then he used his mouth to blaze a trail of kisses down her flat, quivering belly. He probed her navel with his tongue.<br />
<br />
She grew weak with yearning and the excitement of the unknown, as he kissed her hips and made her squirm with delight.<br />
<br />
"How's this, lass?" he asked in a low, seductive voice. "Is this what you want from me?"<br />
She could do nothing but nod earnestly as he knelt on the floor and brushed his lips across her inner thighs. A soft gasp escaped her when his mouth and tongue plunged into the sensitive core of her womanhood.<br />
<br />
She'd thought she'd experienced everything earlier when he claimed her virginity and poured his seed into her, but this was something new and unimaginable. She had not known how intimate the marriage act could beor how satisfying. He was driving her to the brink of madness.<br />
<br />
She bucked and writhed on the bed as he pleasured her, and soon she was plunging down that raging, foamy river of sensation. When it finally came, the orgasm was excessive to the point of excruciating. She clutched the bedcoverings in both fists and cried out, while he continued to thrust his tongue into her, until her arms fell open and she was faint with exhaustion.<br />
<br />
Angus rose to his feet and rested his fisted knuckles on the bed on either side of her.<br />
Her eyes fluttered open. She felt groggy. Drunk. And very happy.<br />
"Are you satisfied now?" he asked.<br />
<br />
She could barely think through the sexual fog that was clouding her brain, but somehow she managed to nod her head.<br />
<br />
"Good. Now maybe I can have some peace and quiet."<br />
He stalked to the door, but halted before he opened it.<br />
"Bluidy hell," he whispered.<br />
<br />
She leaned up on both elbows, wondering dazedly what he was going on about. He swung around to face her.<br />
<br />
"I can't go down there like this." He was aroused again. His kilt wasn't hanging right. "Are you willing to have another go?"<br />
<br />
"Oh yes," she answered breathlessly. "And since I'm already well satisfied, there's no need for foreplay."<br />
Her ferocious Highlander returned to her, and with a fiery glint in his eye, said, "Are you sure, lass? Because I'm feeling energetic. This might last a while." <br />
<br />
"I'm absolutely sure." All she wanted was to feel him inside her again.<br />
He braced his feet apart on the floor, then slowly slid into her soaking depths with glorious ease this time. He made love to her while standing up, and he made it last a good long time, working inside her with smooth, plunging meticulousness that left her reeling with amazement. When he climaxed, she felt it as if it were her own. He finally collapsed onto her with a groan of deep satisfaction.<br />
<br />
A moment later he climbed onto the bed explaining that he was too exhausted to make it to the door. He stripped off his clothes, then fell onto his back like a tremendous toppling oak.<br />
<br />
<br />
He did not leave the bed again until morning, and by that time, Gwendolen was feeling somewhat addicted to her new husband's sexual expertise.<br />
And quite thoroughly schooled in the enticing act of lovemaking.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Chapter Twelve<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Angus strode in circles around the Great Hall, swinging his sword through the air in wide, sweeping arcs, waiting impatiently for Lachlan for arrive.<br />
<br />
He had not had breakfast yet it was still too early for that -but he felt a great need to work his body into a lather and ease some of the tension he was feeling, for his wedding night had been more complicated than he'd expected. Gwendolen had drained him dry, and he needed to prove to himself that he was not entirely sapped of strength and vigor, otherwise he might have to lay down some boundaries.<br />
<br />
At last Lachlan appeared under the wide, arched entrance and leaned a shoulder against the wall. His face was shadowed with dark stubble, his eyes rimmed with red. He watched Angus lunge and strike at the air, then he ambled forward, yawning.<br />
<br />
"Is there a reason you dragged me out of bed on this, of all days, when you should still be shagging your pretty new wife? Bluidy hell, Angus, I only got to sleep an hour ago." <br />
"And what were you doing all night?" Angus asked irritably.<br />
"Ah, you know. The usual. Drinking. Singing. Shagging."<br />
"I told you to stay away from the MacEwen women for a while."<br />
"Not to worry. My little friend last night was a MacDonald from the village, and a bonnie one at that."<br />
Lachlan drew his sword. They paced back and forth, eyeing each other intently.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, Angus swung hard, and the heavy clang of steel against steel did wonders for his mood. He needed to feel like he was still the same man he had been on the day he stormed the gates of Kinloch. He needed to know that his desire for his wife was not going to consume him.<br />
<br />
A particular memory flashed through his brain as he ducked under Lachlan's aggressive attack. He remembered wiping a tear from Gwendolen's cheek, just before dawn. She'd looked up at him and told him she was happy, and he had done the unthinkable and gathered her into his arms.<br />
Lachlan came at him suddenly.<br />
<br />
Angus shouted a fearsome war cry and defended himself against his cousin's impressive overhanded swing.<br />
"Is there a reason you're so keen to fight this morning?" Lachlan asked, moving quickly to deflect another blow. "She didn't hold out on you, did she?"<br />
"Nay."<br />
They fought hard and fast for a few more minutes.<br />
"That's it?" Lachlan said, as he turned away and circled the room. "That's all you're going to say about your wedding night?"<br />
"That's all I'm going to say."<br />
Lachlan came at him again. There was a piercing ring of steel against steel.<br />
"No regrets then?" Lachlan asked. "You're pleased with your wife?"<br />
"Stop talking, Lachlan, and fight me!"<br />
Later, when they were both dripping with sweat and breathing heavily, they sat down on the dais. Angus threw Lachlan a towel.<br />
<br />
"You know," Angus said, wiping his face, "I never imagined I'd end up married to a woman like Gwendolen MacEwen. I always believed that only foolish men took beautiful wives because they were thinking with their knobs instead of their heads."<br />
"And love makes a man weak," Lachlan added. "So you've always said."<br />
Angus looked up at the swallow's nest in the rafters, but the bird was not there. <br />
"Has there been any word from her brother yet."<br />
<br />
"No news, but I sent five men out to hunt him down, so one of them should be able to discover something. It might take a while, that's all. In the meantime, I'm extracting all kinds of interesting facts and opinions from Onora. She's an easy flirt and a fountain of information about Kinloch, and the people in the village."<br />
Angus wiped the towel over his face again. "Do you ever feel like you 'll burn in hell for using her like that?" <br />
Lachlan chuckled. "Nay, because she's using me, too. She's quite the seductress. And it's not as if I'd ever bed her."<br />
<br />
"Just keep your wits about you." Angus wiped at his arms. "And don't forget your first priority to maintain a strong defense. Position the most reliable men at the battlements and keep sending out the scouts." <br />
"I've got it all under control."<br />
<br />
"Has anyone been out yet this morning?"<br />
"Not yet."<br />
"I'll go myself, then."<br />
Lachlan regarded him keenly. "Are you sure? Don't you have a pretty young bride waiting in your bed?"<br />
"Aye, but she took advantage of me last night. I need to refill my well." <br />
Lachlan threw his head back and laughed.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A short time later, Angus strode across the rooftops to check on the sentries. He looked toward the horizon, then went to the kitchen, grabbed an apple and crunched into it on the way to the stables. He told the groom to back off and mind his own business while he saddled a horse for himself, then departed from the castle through the main gate.<br />
<br />
Galloping fast across the bridge, he relished the hollow sound of the hooves clopping over the planks, then trotted across the dewy field to the forest. As he delved deeper into the wood, the dappled shade cooled his body, and he stopped a moment to breathe in the fresh scent of the pines and listen to the sound of fast-rushing water nearby. A squirrel chattered overhead.<br />
<br />
He was pleased to be home at last, after two years on a distant, windswept island. He felt at peace here something he had not thought possible for himself. Not in this lifetime. Yet here he was.<br />
<br />
At the same time, he knew that if he was going to maintain control over Kinloch, he would have to be exceedingly careful. He could not allow himself to become distracted by a beautiful wife. Until Gwendolen's brother was found, the possibility of an invasion would be a constant threat. Angus would have to stay focused and remember why he married Gwendolen in the first place to improve relations between his clan and hers and provide stability at Kinloch.<br />
<br />
He also needed an heir, and for that reason, he would continue to bed her. It was his duty, and he would fulfill it. With luck, the fires of his lust would diminish over time and these persistent thoughts about her would fade. Perhaps when she was with child, his passions would cool.<br />
But she was not with child yet...<br />
<br />
Turning his mount back toward the castle, he wondered if she was awake and imagined how she would respond if he slid back into bed beside her. He galloped through the wood, hungry for her body, and failed to notice the MacEwen clansman who was crouched low in the bushes, watching him with sharp and vigilant eyes.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
After a record number of days of sunshine, it rained buckets in the Highlands for a month. Despite the wet weather and muddy terrain, the Kinloch scouts continued to scour the surrounding forests each day, and the sentries paced back and forth on the rooftops, providing security against the threat of attack.<br />
<br />
Angus placed his trust in Lachlan, his devoted cousin and competent Laird of War, and poured a great deal of energy into the important task of providing Kinloch with an heir.<br />
<br />
He and Gwendolen spent the afternoons indoors, ignoring the weather outside and alternating each night between her bedchamber and his.<br />
<br />
"Has Lachlan always lived here at Kinloch?" Gwendolen asked, late one morning, as they lay naked in Angus's bed with a fire blazing in the hearth. His chamber was warm and they were cozy beneath the covers. Angus lifted his head on the pillow to look down at her, for they were at opposite ends of the bed. She was resting her head on the footboard. He was massaging her feet.<br />
<br />
"Aye. We grew up together," he told her. "We used to compete in everything. I was a faster runner, but he had better aim with a musket."<br />
"What about swordplay? Which of you prevailed?"<br />
"We were equally skilled, and to this day our sessions almost always end in a draw."<br />
She rubbed her toe over his shoulder and down the length of his arm. "How many of these scars did you get from your childhood competitions with Lachlan? Surely they were not all earned in battle."<br />
"I'd wager more than half came from friendly fights, when one of us was not paying attention, or was too drunk to be wielding a weapon in the first place."<br />
<br />
Her eyes flashed with excitement. "Could you teach me how to fight with a claymore? It might prove useful one day. You never know when you might need your wife to protect you.''<br />
"Protect me?" He pinched her hard on the bottom.<br />
"Ouch!" She kicked him under the covers.<br />
<br />
Ducking beneath the sheets, he slid down to join her at the foot of the bed. "Are you carrying my child yet?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"I can hardly answer that question," she replied. "We've only been married a month.''<br />
"But we've shagged so much, lass, it seems more like a year."<br />
Gwendolen was tempted to kick him again, but couldn't seem to do anything but gaze into the brilliant blue of his eyes.<br />
<br />
"Is this normal?" she asked. "Do all married couples spend this much time in bed?"<br />
"Don't think so. I believe we are strange."<br />
She huffed. "I know for a fact that you are. Are you aware that you grind your teeth in your sleep?"<br />
His eyes narrowed. "How would you know that? Do you stare at me in the night?''<br />
"Occasionally."<br />
"Why?"<br />
She ran a finger over his lips and spoke with quiet seduction. "Because I am fascinated by your beautiful mouth and all the wonderful things you do with it."<br />
"And I am fascinated by the smell of your skin." Smoothly, he rolled onto her. "Especially this shoulder." He brushed his nose down the inside of her arm.<br />
<br />
"And your wristst... Your hands... And lovely little titties."<br />
He took a nipple into his mouth and began that slow, succulent licking that never failed to bring her to the heights of trembling desire.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen relaxed her body and let her eyes fall closed, accepting the fact that she was becoming rather obsessed with her brave, passionate lion, even when she knew that he did not return her feelings, for there was always something distant about him, even at times like this, when he was making love to her.<br />
He wanted a child. She knew that much, and it was important to him that she was amenable in bed, so he did what was necessary to make it so. She suspected, however, that this was just a temporary interlude for him, a pleasant diversion from his warrior life, and the moment it was confirmed that she was expecting, he would retreat, and she would not see him again until the time came to conceive another.<br />
<br />
It was not so for her. All her life, she had wanted a marriage built on intimacy and love, and she was frankly surprised that this first month had been so passionate, considering that they had begun as enemies. She still could not forget the fury she had felt when she watched him storm the castle gates and kill her clansmen, and often wondered what her father would think if he could see how infatuated she had become with his enemy.<br />
Two nights ago, she had dreamed about their firstborn son on his wedding day. Angus proud and loving as any father could be -presented him with his prized claymore as a gift. She woke from the dream feeling elated, and wondered if some dreams did come true. It was possible, she supposed, for many of hers had found their way into the reality of her life. The lion, for instance.<br />
<br />
A moment later, her husband slid into her with exquisite ease and looked down at her face, while he braced himself above her on both arms. She gazed up at him in the silvery morning light and prayed that, one day, something more than sexual desire would exist between them. She was coming to realize that she wanted a deeper, soulful connection with her husband. For she could not live for duty alone. Not with him.<br />
The knowledge of that fact terrified her.<br />
Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-88980078195406371922011-10-19T02:15:00.000-07:002011-10-19T02:15:10.680-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/chapter-one-chapter-two-chapter-three.html">Chapter Six</a><br />
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<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/cliamed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter Seven & Eight</a><br />
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<span lang="N"> Chapter Nine<br />
<br />
<br />
Construction of the new gate began the following day in the open bailey, the clansmen pounding away with their hammers, and groaning as they raised heavy planks under the warm sun. Gwendolen worked hard from the kitchen, supervising the luncheon preparations, for the men required their sustenance.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Late in the afternoon, she ventured through the Great Hall with a group of servants to deliver a cart of ale. She crossed the sunny bailey, her feet tapping lightly over the packed earth while the servants followed with the wheeled cart. When she reached the gate, she breathed in the sweet-smelling scent of freshly cut timber. Wood shavings from the lathe littered the ground, and the crack of hammers echoed off the castle walls.<br />
Then Gwendolen caught sight of Angus. She had not known he'd joined the laborers, and her thoughts clogged her brain as she watched him drag a long wooden plank across the bailey. The heavy length of wood rested on one broad shoulder, and he leaned forward into the task, the muscles of his thighs straining as he took one heavy step, paused, then took another. His shirt clung wetly to his back. Perspiration dampened his hair. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, and she could see the muscles in his forearms, flexing and contracting with each strenuous step.<br />
<br />
She stood watching him until the clansmen recognized what was in the cart and began to crowd around it. She helped serve the ale to the thirsty workers, while Angus reached the bridge beyond the gate tower, stopped, and twisted his body to set the plank down. It bounced heavily as it landed, and sent a cloud of sawdust swirling into the air.<br />
<br />
He straightened and tipped his head back, closed his eyes as if to drink in the sun's warmth. A drop of perspiration trickled down the side of his sun-bronzed face, and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand.<br />
Gwendolen stood transfixed, holding a tankard of ale, waiting for him to notice her. At last their eyes met, and she held out the drink.<br />
<br />
Striding toward her, he accepted the ale and tipped it back. His throat, shiny with sweat, pulsed as he guzzled. The liquid cascaded over the sides of his mouth and down his damp, muscular chest, disappearing under his shirt. Gwendolen followed the path of the ale with rapt eyes, as he wiped an arm across his mouth and handed the tankard back.<br />
<br />
She grew flustered by the intensity of his stare as he waited for her to take the empty container. When she reached out, their fingers brushed lightly together, and the brief contact created a lingering havoc in her brain.<br />
"Thank you," he said.<br />
<br />
My pleasure. How is the new gate coming?"<br />
"It's coming." He gazed at her briefly with those ice blue eyes, then turned to resume his work.<br />
She set about collecting the empty drinking vessels from the other clansmen, realizing with some unease that she was beginning to look forward to her wedding night, and was thinking about it far more than she should.<br />
But what did that say about her loyalties to the MacEwen clan? she wondered uncomfortably, then quickly swept the question from her mind.<br />
<br />
*** <br />
<br />
For three days, and three excruciatingly long nights, Angus refrained from visiting Gwendolen's bedchamber, for he did not think he could manage another session of foreplay that didn't end in full-scale, outright, bed-smashing intercourse.<br />
<br />
Instead, he spent those days exhausting himself on the construction of the castle gate, deliberately choosing tasks that tested his body, in order to distract himself from thinking about Gwendolen. Currently, he was at the top of a ladder, pounding on a wooden peg.<br />
<br />
He also took steps to get their wedding celebrations under way as quickly as possible. Naturally, if he could drag her to the chapel that afternoon and be done with it, he would. He would marry her and bed her without delay, and rid himself of this hunger for which there was only one cure. But the two clans needed something to celebrate, and he wasn't marrying Gwendolen to satisfy his lust. He was doing it for Kinloch -so it had to be a first-rate spectacle with a bounty of food, dancing, drinking, and applauding.<br />
And then, by God, there would be sex. Lots and lots of sex.<br />
He pounded harder and faster on the wooden peg, and accidentally smashed his thumb with the hammer.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
The following day, Angus entered his bedchamber in the middle of the afternoon, locked the door behind him, and sank into an upholstered chair by the window. He was drenched in sweat after testing the gate, which was now complete, but required a few minor adjustments. He was tired of working on it, however. His thumb was still swollen and throbbing, so he came here to rest a while.<br />
He lounged back, closed his eyes, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He rubbed his stinging eyes with the heels of his hands. It felt like the insides of his eyelids were coated in dust. He hadn't enjoyed a good night's sleep in days.<br />
<br />
He pushed himself out of the chair and practically crawled to the bed, where he flopped onto his stomach and thought of his forthcoming wedding night. An unwelcome rush of lust stirred his blood.<br />
He was not accustomed to satisfying his own needs. Raonaid, over the past two years, had always been eager, but it had been two months since he left her, and Gwendolen was still, as of yet, unavailable to him. He might do better if he just took the edge off a bit. At least one fist still worked, and that's all he needed.<br />
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy above, feeling riled and annoyed that he had been reduced to this.<br />
A knock sounded at his door just then, and he sat up abruptly. <br />
"Fook off!" <br />
"Fook off, yerself," Lachlan replied from the corridor. "Open the door." <br />
"I'm busy."<br />
<br />
There was a pause. "Too busy to receive Colonel Worthington, the governor of Fort William? I thought you might like to know that he's outside, pounding at the gate. He seems agitated."<br />
"Dammit, Lachlan," Angus said in a low voice, as he vaulted off the bed. "I'll show you agitated."<br />
He'd always known that passion for a woman made a man weak, and here was the proof. He had been caught off guard, distracted by the persistent merry making that was going on under his kilt.<br />
He flung the door open. "If you tell me he's here with the full force of the English army, I'll be throwing you over the castle walls."<br />
<br />
Lachlan stood in the corridor with feet braced apart, loading a musket. "Nay. It's just the colonel himself and ten redcoats. But he's getting impatient. I think you ought to let him in." Lachlan poured powder into the pan, charged the weapon, and rammed down the cartridge.<br />
Angus pushed past him, heading for the staircase. "Tell the guards to open the gate," he ordered. "Bring the colonel to the solar. I'll wait for him there. And offer drinks to his men."<br />
He quickly descended the curved staircase, aware of how quickly the threat of an attack could douse certain fires in a man's blood, and light others that were equally hot.<br />
His passion for Kinloch was immense.<br />
He swept all thoughts of Gwendolen from his mind.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwendolen leaned over the battlements and looked down at the small company of mounted soldiers on the bridge, led by the great Colonel Worthington himself.<br />
It was hardly an army of liberators with archers and cannons, appearing over the horizon for a surprise attack. To the contrary, the soldiers, in bright red uniforms, looked lethargic and bored. While they waited on the bridge for the gates to open, the horses nickered and tossed their heads. One soldier sneezed three times into his hand and complained about the dust, and another suggested that he sniff strong vinegar into his nose each morning to take care of the problem.<br />
Clearly there would be no heroic battle today.<br />
<br />
Colonel Worthington removed a folded linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead, while insects buzzed incessantly in the meadow beyond.<br />
At last the enormous new gates swung open, and they all trotted into the bailey. Gwendolen moved to the other side of the roof to watch.<br />
<br />
The redcoats were greeted cordially by Lachlan MacDonald and a few other MacDonald clansmen, who took charge of the horses and led them to the stables. The soldiers were taken into the hall, while Lachlan escorted Colonel Worthington to the North Tower.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen's heart began to pound. What would happen when the colonel spoke to Angus? Would he take her side, and command Angus, under order of the King, to restore Kinloch to the MacEwens? Or would he recognize Angus's right to rule Kinloch and inform him that he had learned of the invasion from someone inside the castle walls? Worst of all, would Angus discover who had sent the dispatch?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Chapter Ten<br />
<br />
Gwendolen sat in her private chamber, feeling as if she were waiting to be escorted to the executioner's block. Every sound outside her door caused her to jump, as if it were the ominous approach of the hooded axe man. By the time someone actually climbed the stairs and knocked, she had worked herself into such a state of anxiety that she kicked over a stool in her haste to answer the door.<br />
Standing outside in the corridor, it was -as she had expected-the conqueror of her clan, looking grim.<br />
He had not visited her chamber since the night he carried a candle into the room, woke her from her dream, and joined her on the bed. She experienced a flash memory suddenly of his body pressed tightly to hers, his mouth on her neck, her legs wrapped around his kilted hips and shivered with a mixture of sexual arousal and fear.<br />
<br />
How strange that she would think of such things now, when there were far more pressing matters to worry about like the fact that in his hands, he held the letter she had written to the English colonel at Fort William.<br />
Angus's eyes were cool and mistrustful. Not knowing what to expect, and feeling guilty and convicted before he even spoke a single word, Gwendolen invited him inside, while her stomach turned over with dread.<br />
He entered and glanced around the room, as if looking for more evidence of treachery, then glared at her directly. God help her. He knew she had sent the letter. She had broken her vow to him, and may have cost him his ultimate triumph.<br />
"You have something you wish to say to me," she said, deciding it would be best to confront the issue head-on.<br />
<br />
She glanced down at the small rolled parchment in his battle-scarred hands, which was tied with a black ribbon that had come from her own dressing table, and felt transfixed by the sight of those long fingers. He ran a bruised thumb along the length of the dispatch.<br />
"Did you write this?" he asked.<br />
<br />
She knew she had to say something, but couldn't seem to find her voice.<br />
His eyes lifted, and a muscle flicked at his jaw. "Did you?" he repeated, causing her to jump.<br />
Gwendolen strove to remain calm. She looked him in the eye and nodded, for she certainly couldn't let Mary take the blame for it. The poor girl couldn't even read. This was her own doing, and she would claim full responsibility.<br />
Bracing herself for the oncoming storm of the Lion's wrath, she wondered if he would beat her. Or drag her to the prison.<br />
He looked down at the dispatch again, and she was forced to stand and wait, while he decided what to do with her.<br />
<br />
Slowly, he moved to the window and stood with his back to her, saying nothing for the longest time. Gwendolen grew more desperate to explain herself. She wanted to apologize, because she had indeed broken her word, while he had kept his side of the bargain. He had not harmed or mistreated her, nor had he robbed her of her virginity before marriage. He'd treated her mother with respect as well, and had permitted her to keep the jewels that once belonged to his own mother, years ago.<br />
As much as it shocked and pained Gwendolen to admit it, Angus the Lion, savage warrior and sworn enemy of the MacEwens, had been merciful.<br />
<br />
"You lied to me," he said at last, in a low voice that made her wonder if those days of mercy and kindness were over.<br />
"Aye. But if you will let me explain"<br />
"Do you think you deserve that opportunity?"<br />
"Please, Angus"<br />
<br />
He faced her and took a very long time to consider her appeal. "All right," he said at last. "I'm listening."<br />
Somehow, she managed to speak in a steady voice. "I sent it the morning after you invaded Kinloch and claimed me as your wife."<br />
<br />
His eyebrows pulled together in a frown, but she forced herself to continue.<br />
"Please understand that I was afraid of you and I felt a responsibility to my clan. Kinloch belonged to the MacEwens. My father had been dead only a month, and already we had lost it. I didn't know what to expect from you. All I knew was that you were a ruthless warrior and you claimed me for your own political gain, and I am still unhappy with your tyrannical methods and the life you have forced upon me, without ever asking."<br />
<br />
He eyed her with his usual menace, and she spoke even more passionately while stepping forward.<br />
"Angus, you are a warrior. Surely you cannot blame me for fighting for my freedom and what belonged to my family. It was my father's greatest achievement, and now that he is gone because he is gone Kinloch means everything to me. I was only trying to save the people of my clan from your cruelty."<br />
She stopped herself, realizing she had just insulted him. But there was no other way to put it. It was the truth.<br />
"You think I came here to be cruel?"<br />
<br />
"That is how you are perceived," she told him. "You took our home by force. You crushed us, swiftly and brutally. You left me no choice but to rebel."<br />
His eyes had a burning, impassioned look in them "Is this explanation supposed to make me overlook your treachery?"<br />
<br />
She considered the question carefully, then lifted her chin. "Aye, it is. I admit that I violated our agreement, but I was frightened, and you can hardly blame me. You are an intimidating man. It seemed my only option at the time."<br />
He strode forward with narrowed eyes. "At the time..."<br />
"Aye."<br />
"You were frightened..."<br />
"Aye."<br />
"Are you frightened now?" His eyes were forbidding, his voice husky, as he ran a rough knuckle across her cheek.<br />
Gwendolen backed away and bumped into the bed. "Very much so."<br />
"So you'd do it again if you had the chance? You'd call on some other army to come and remove me by force? Or kill me?"<br />
Her body trembled as she strove to get air into her lungs. "That depends."<br />
"On what?"<br />
<br />
"On what army it was. I wouldn't call in the French. They'd probably take your side over mine."<br />
Angus held the tiny rolled dispatch in front of her face. "I should beat you senseless for this betrayal, and teach you a lesson you would not soon forget."<br />
He stood before her, waiting for her to speak.<br />
"I'm sorry," she said.<br />
Angus's chest was heaving. He wet his lips.<br />
"Will you at least tell me what Colonel Worthington said?" she asked.<br />
"What are you hoping to hear? That he threatened me and ordered me to leave Kinloch? That if I disobey, King George will return with an army of redcoats and drop an anvil on my head?"<br />
"Now you're mocking me."<br />
<br />
He backed away. "It was pointless to send this message, lass. The English have more important matters to contend with than a disagreement between two clans. Colonel Worthington said so himself. He doesn't wish to become involved. What were you thinking? That they'd come and defend your dead father's claim to this territory?"<br />
<br />
She moved away from the bed. "I don't know. I thought that our loyalty would mean something to him. We are Hanoverians and we defeated an army of Jacobites two years ago. I thought the King would defend our lawful possession of these lands, which we earned in defense of his Crown."<br />
<br />
Angus palmed the hilt of his sword. "You know nothing of politics and war, lass. The Whigs wanted my father dead, and your father took care of it for his own personal gain. He was offered Kinloch as a prize, and that's why he invaded. It had nothing to do with honor or loyalty to any Crown. It was about land and power, nothing more. That's what it's always about, when one man tries to take another man's home." He crumpled the dispatch in a fist and walked to the window. For a long time he looked out at the surrounding countryside. "I have taken back what belongs to me, and Colonel Worthington has no interest in challenging my rule here. He made it clear it's a clan issue, nothing more."<br />
"He's not worried that you will try to raise another rebellion?"<br />
"I gave him my word that I will live here in peace."<br />
"And he believed you?"<br />
<br />
Angus swung around to face her. "You seem to take promises very lightly, lass. Does a man's word mean so little to you? And do you have no care for your own?"<br />
She was overcome suddenly with shame. She walked slowly to a chair and sat down. "My honor means everything to me."<br />
"But you broke the promise you made to me when you negotiated terms of surrender. You promised to be loyal." <br />
<br />
She bowed her head. "Does this mean our agreement is annulled?"<br />
Perhaps he would not even wish to marry her now. If he felt he could not trust her, he might imprison her. Or perhaps simply banish her. And then what? She would be forced to leave her home and the members of her clan, while they would remain here to be ruled by a MacDonald. As things stood presently, she at least had an opportunity to rule beside him and petition for the rights of her own people.<br />
Perhaps her mother had been right all along. Perhaps she should cease these futile efforts to oppose him, and find a way to submit and exert some influence, through her position as his wife.<br />
<br />
It was not as if it would be wholly unpleasant. Heaven help her, she had been anticipating their wedding night with a surprising degree of curiosity and desire. And from what she'd witnessed from his behavior thus far-especially today it would not be a life of beatings and torment. He had every reason to punish her after what she'd done, but he had not done so. At least not yet. He'd proven himself over the past week to be a fair chief. And he was handsome. Despite everything she was attracted to him.<br />
<br />
Acutely aware of his movement across the room, even while her eyes were downcast, Gwendolen awaited his decision. He approached and stood before her. His kilt brushed against her knees, and her heart began to race. His presence was overwhelming to her in ways she could barely comprehend, and she found herself hoping that he would not call off their marriage.<br />
<br />
He cradled her chin in his callused hand and lifted her face. Her heart pounded erratically while he looked down at her, as if he was trying to decide whether or not he could ever trust her again.<br />
She gazed into his eyes and spoke with straightforward sincerity. "I was wrong to betray you, but if you will give me another chance, I promise it will not happen again. I have learned my lesson, and I will pledge myself to you now, if you like."<br />
<br />
He slowly brushed his bruised thumb over her lower lip, and his touch caused something inside her to tremble with unease. Or perhaps it was desire. She couldn't seem to make sense of her feelings.<br />
Without responding to her apology, he backed away. There was a grim shadow of resentment in his expression. Was it possible he no longer wanted her as his wife? Perhaps there was not even a single shred of hope for a second chance.<br />
<br />
Not yet ready to give up, she took hold of her skirts and moved forward off the edge of the chair to her knees. "I, Gwendolen MacEwen, pledge loyalty to you, Angus Bradach MacDonald, as Laird of Kinloch. I promise to serve you faithfully and devotedly, and provide you with heirs."<br />
A raven flew past the window, screeching noisily. Gwendolen waited through the rush of her anxiety for Angus to say something.<br />
<br />
"What about your brother?" he curtly asked. "If he returns, will you honor this pledge to me?"<br />
She met his clear blue eyes. "I give you my word that if he comes, I will not betray you, and I will do my best to encourage peace between you. You once said you would offer him land...?"<br />
"Aye."<br />
<br />
"Then I will hold true to my pledge. I will do my best to convince him to accept your offer." <br />
Something dark continued to simmer in his expression, but his words delivered another message. "Then I accept your oath."<br />
<br />
Profoundly relieved, she gathered her skirts in her fists and stood. "You still wish to marry me?" <br />
"Aye. We'll exchange vows in four days."<br />
She blinked. "That soon."<br />
"There's no reason to delay."<br />
He stood motionless, staring at her, then looked down at the crumpled dispatch he still held in his hand. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, then he moved to the desk, lit a candle, and held the parchment over the flame.<br />
<br />
"No one knows you are the traitor who sent this," he said, as her letter slowly turned to black ash and disintegrated before her eyes, "except for the woman in the kitchen. Can you keep her quiet?"<br />
"Of course."<br />
<br />
"It's best if the clans believe that you are a faithful bride of Kinloch. To behave otherwise is to encourage rebellion, and I want peace here."<br />
"I want that, too," she assured him.<br />
He lifted his eyes briefly and glanced at her.<br />
Gwendolen suspected he was not yet convinced of her trustworthiness. He would be watching her very closely in the coming weeks.<br />
<br />
The flame devoured the dispatch, and when it was gone, Angus blew the ashes off the desktop and wiped it clean. "We will not speak of this again," he said, making his way to the door.<br />
"Angus..." She followed him into the corridor, where he stopped at the top of the stairs with his hand on the wall. "After what I did, will you still honor the original terms of our agreement?"<br />
With cold, seething eyes, he returned to her. She backed up and hit the wall. He braced both arms on either side of her, trapping her there.<br />
<br />
"If you're asking whether or not I intend to wait until our wedding night to make love to you..." He paused, considering it. "It's very tempting to ignore the terms, since they've already been breached." She sucked in a breath, and he took his time to peruse her face. "Do I make you nervous, lass? Are you afraid of me?"<br />
"No, I am not afraid." But she was. Heaven help her, she was.<br />
<br />
<br />
He looked down at her lips, then leaned in for a deep, wet, demanding kiss that tested the genuineness of her surrender. One arm slid around her waist and pulled her close, while the other remained braced against the wall. The texture of his tongue sent all her nerve endings into a buzzing state of awareness, while a shock of pleasure rippled outward from her lips down to her belly. His spiky whiskers rubbed against her chin, and she marveled at the strangely gratifying pain.<br />
Slowly, he backed away. Her eyes fluttered open.<br />
<br />
"Don't work yourself into such a tizzy," he said. "I'll honor my word. You can keep your precious virginity for a few more days."<br />
"Thank you."<br />
<br />
"Save your gratitude for our wedding night," he said, as he turned to leave, "because I suspect you'll want to thank me then. Repeatedly."<br />
He disappeared quickly down the curved staircase, and Gwendolen exhaled sharply with relief. </span>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-484039235041321162011-10-18T05:10:00.000-07:002011-10-18T05:10:03.356-07:00Cliamed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/chapter-one-chapter-two-chapter-three.html">Chapter Six</a><br />
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<br />
Chapter Seven<br />
<br />
The next morning, Gwendolen woke to bright sunshine beaming in through her window. It was no surprise that she had slept late, for she'd been awake half the night recovering from Angus's presence in her bed, and all the different ways he had touched her, and the shock of how pliant she'd become in his arms. It was quite a stroke of luck that he had left the room when he did, otherwise she might very well be an experienced woman this morning.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Stretching her arms over her head, she sat up and reached for her robe, then hurried to her dressing room, for there was something important she had to do that morning, before the women of the kitchen left for the village market.<br />
<br />
She was going to attempt to send word to Fort William, the nearest English garrison, to inform them of yesterday's attack. The governor at the fort was obligated to report all Jacobite activities to the Crown, and surely he would wish to know that the son of a Jacobite rebel had just taken over a castle of Hanoverians and declared himself chief. It was information the governor would value, and perhaps he would recognize the threat to England and send assistance.<br />
<br />
She considered going to Gordon MacEwen, the castle steward, to share her plan with him, but decided against it, for she was not sure who could be trusted. He had been manipulated by her mother in recent weeks, so it was obvious that he was easily seduced. And God only knew how long that affair had been going on. Her mother was no saint.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen washed up and donned a striped skirt with a blue bodice, and quickly braided her hair. She hurried down the curved stone staircase and made her way through the vaulted passageways to the kitchen, where the smell of bread baking in the ovens caused her mouth to water.<br />
"Good morning, Miss MacEwen."<br />
<br />
She whirled around, realizing how very taut her nerves had become."Mary. You surprised me. Good morning to you, too. You're just the person I was looking for. Are you going to the village market this morning?"<br />
<br />
<br />
"Aye. Last night's feast drained us dry. We're in need of everything." She gave a sigh of annoyance."I'll have to take two wagons, and I may make a few of those hungry MacDonald clansmen get in the harness instead of the mules, because they're the ones who cleaned us out, and they certainly have full bellies this morning."<br />
"That's a perfect idea."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then took Mary by the hand and led her into a dark corner of the kitchen, out of sight. "Can you do something for me?"<br />
"I'll do anything for you, Miss MacEwen. You know that."<br />
<br />
<br />
"Aye. It's why I came to you." Gwendolen reached into her stays and pulled out a sealed letter. "Can you see that this is delivered to Marcus MacEwen, the winemaker, and tell him to give it to his brother, John. They'll know what to do with it." She slipped the note into Mary's hand.<br />
"I cannot read, lassie, so you know I won't pry into your personal affairs, but can you tell me what it's about?"<br />
<br />
"No, Mary, it's best if you do not know. The only thing you must do is keep it secret and make sure no one sees you handing it over, and make sure it's well hidden when you leave the castle, in case you are searched."<br />
Mary stuffed it into the depths of her generous bosom and patted down her frizzy hair. "You can trust me to do your bidding, Miss MacEwen. The winemaker and I go way back. He'll be more than happy to accept the message. I'll lead him behind a haystack and take a few naughty thrills for myself while he searches my underthings."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen touched Mary's arm. "You are a very good friend. I appreciate your sacrifice, but please be careful."<br />
<br />
She returned to the busy kitchen, where the others were kneading balls of dough on worktables."May I have some breakfast? I am famished."<br />
<br />
Mary directed her to the tray of oatcakes, fresh out of the oven, and a bowl of fresh cream.<br />
A short time later, Gwendolen was passing through the Great Hall on her way to her mother's chamber, when she heard her name called out from the head table.<br />
<br />
Angus's deep voice echoed off the ceiling timbers, stopping her in her tracks. She shut her eyes, took a breath, then turned around to face him. He was seated at the table alone, eating his breakfast.<br />
"Here I sit," he said, spreading his arms wide, "in my father's chair again." He leaned back casually. "And I have no one to talk to but that little bird overhead."<br />
<br />
His eyes lifted, and he gestured toward the swallow, perched on a beam over the door.<br />
Gwendolen looked up. "She's still here. After yesterday, I thought we might never see her again. Clearly she is unaware of her peril."<br />
<br />
He inclined his head. "Now why would you say such a hurtful thing, lass? Do you think I am such a monster, that I would prey on a small, defenseless creature such as that?"<br />
<br />
"You have preyed on my entire clan, and me as well. In the dead of night, may I remind you?"<br />
"Your clan is hardly small," he replied."And you are hardly defenseless neither by day, or night. Do you forget the knife you held at my throat?" His shrewd eyes raked over her from head to foot, then he wiped his mouth with a napkin, tossed it lightly onto the table, and stood.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen's stomach clenched tight as he hopped down from the dais and approached her. She couldn't keep from backing away from him, which set a certain tone for their encounter. He was the predator, she the nervous prey.<br />
<br />
In a belated attempt to assert herself, she halted on the spot and straightened her posture.<br />
"Tell me, lass," he said, as he reached her with brooding curiosity. "What are you up to this morning? You look rather...sly."<br />
<br />
Her eyebrows flew up. "Sly? What is that supposed to mean? I have no idea what you are referring to."<br />
He cupped her chin in a big hand, lifted her face slightly to examine it from all angles."Now you're blushing. Your cheeks are turning red."<br />
"Maybe that's because I don't like your hands on me."<br />
He pondered that. "Nay, that's not it."<br />
"It most certainly is!<br />
<br />
Letting go of her chin, he leaned his golden head closer. She felt his hot, moist breath on her cheek. "I think you like my hands on you very much, and that's what has you so desperate to dash out of this hall right now, praying that you'll be rescued before the grand thrill of our wedding night."<br />
"That's not true," she said.<br />
<br />
She sensed the tiniest hint of a grin on his face and turned her head quickly to look at him, wishing she could catch it, but it was too late. He stepped back, looking dangerous again.<br />
"I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude," he said.<br />
"Good Lord, for what?" She couldn't begin to imagine.<br />
"For not butchering me last night. Part of me wanted you to, and I might have let you, if you'd put more effort into it"<br />
<br />
She studied his pale blue eyes. "Why would you want that? You just achieved a great victory and reclaimed your father's castle. One would think you'd have reason to celebrate."<br />
"One would think so... if I was a happy sort of man." He turned from her and headed for the door.<br />
"Wait!"<br />
<br />
He paused and faced her. She wanted to ask him why he was unhappy, but something about that question seemed too personal, too caring, and she did not wish to care for him.<br />
"Nothing," she said.<br />
<br />
He stared at her for a tense moment that seemed to go on forever, then returned to her, as if he had peered into her soul and heard every private thought and emotion, and wanted to interrogate her further about why she looked so sly.<br />
<br />
"We'll dine in the hall again tonight," he said."It's important that the clans feel united. You'll see to the arrangements?" He eyed her expectantly.<br />
"Of course." Heaven help her her heart was slapping uncontrollably against her rib cage.<br />
"And don't wear that ugly frock you wore last night," he said. "Wear something colorful. This place needs a bit more cheer."<br />
<br />
"Then you might try smiling once in a while."<br />
His eyes narrowed, then he took a step closer. "Would you like that, lass? Would it help you warm to me?"<br />
She thought carefully about how to answer that, then decided that this time, she would be the one to walk away first. She turned around and headed for the door. "No. It would take considerably more than a smile to warm my heart where you are concerned."<br />
She was distinctly aware that he remained where he stood, watching her cross the vast distance of the hall. It brought a tiny smile of satisfaction to her face.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Angus found Lachlan in the bailey, supervising the rebuilding of the front gate, which they'd smashed to bits during the invasion the previous morning. The crack of hammers pounding on wooden pegs echoed off the castle walls, while a number of clansmen worked together to saw through fresh timbers and carry heavy planks of wood to the bridge outside the tower.<br />
<br />
"Mornin'," Lachlan said to Angus, while leaving a crew of three men to continue about their work. "Did you sleep well, back in your own bed at last?"<br />
"I didn't sleep a wink," Angus replied, "for it's my father's bed I must occupy, not my own and I swear that his ghost was pacing about the room, shouting at me."<br />
Lachlan chuckled. "And what did his cranky spirit say?"<br />
"He told me I disobeyed him by coming home, and he slapped the back of my head with a book." <br />
Lachlan scoffed. "That's bluidy ridiculous, Angus," he said. "Your father hated reading."<br />
"Aye, but the MacEwen chief left a novel on the bedside table." <br />
<br />
"Maybe it was his ghost who whacked you in the head. That would make more sense, would it not?"<br />
Angus looked up at the bright blue sky, then let his gaze travel along the battlements from one corner tower to another. "Have someone keep an eye on the comings and goings out of the kitchen today, but be discreet about it."<br />
<br />
"Anyone in particular you're concerned about?"<br />
He regarded his cousin coolly. "I'm concerned that my food will be poisoned, for one thing. Replace the head cook with a MacDonald, but leave the rest of them where they are. And make sure a MacDonald goes along to market today. Send someone observant." <br />
<br />
"Understood."<br />
Angus turned to go.<br />
"Where are you off to now?" Lachlan asked.<br />
<br />
"To the treasury. I need to examine the records and find another, less influential position for that puppet steward, Gordon MacEwen. I'll need a MacDonald there as well." He strode with purpose toward the entrance to the hall, but shouted one last important order over his shoulder. "Keep working on the gate, Lachlan, and make it stronger than before."<br />
"Why? Are we expecting company?"<br />
Angus merely waved a hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Knowing it was important to carefully choose her battles with her future husband, Gwendolen decided to obey him in the small matter of her choice of gown for the evening. He had told her to wear something colorful, so she selected a crimson gown of silk and velvet, with gold trimmings across the brocade stomacher, and tiny sprays of white flowers along the hem of the skirt.<br />
<br />
She entered the Great Hall and spent some time conversing with members of both clans, while going over in her mind what she had accomplished that day. She wondered how long it would take for her message to reach Fort William, and if the English army would even come. It seemed to be her only hope, for she had no idea if Murdoch even knew of their father's death, much less the MacDonald invasion. They'd had no word from him in over three months, and he could be dead for all she knew.<br />
<br />
Her mother approached and fingered an errant lock of hair that fell across Gwendolen's forehead. "You look lovely this evening, darling, but do try to keep up a flawless appearance. Sloppiness will not do, now that you are the laird's wife."<br />
<br />
"I am not yet his wife," Gwendolen reminded her.<br />
"No, but you will be soon enough. You may as well start playing the part now. Why wait?"<br />
Gwendolen frowned. "This is not a theater, Mother. If I am to be his wife, I will take my position seriously, and I will use it to serve my clan." <br />
<br />
Onora glanced the other way. "Did you find out what his plans are for Kinloch? Does he intend to use it as a base for another Jacobite uprising?"<br />
Gwendolen lowered her voice. "No. He says he has no interest in rebellion. He wants to live here in peace."<br />
"And you believe him?"<br />
"I'm not sure."<br />
<br />
Onora shook her head. "Use your brains, Gwendolen. He is a warrior at heart. He won't know what to do with himself once the smell of battle wears off his shirt. He's a hot-blooded Highlander. He'll be looking for another fight."<br />
<br />
"Perhaps not. Perhaps he's already experienced enough violence to last a lifetime."<br />
Her mother shot her a frustrated look. "He's a man, Gwendolen. They thrive on violence. Even if they are quiet for a while, they will eventually feel the need to roar." She smiled at a MacDonald clansman who walked by. "Besides that, he could simply be lying to you. If he were planning something, he certainly wouldn't trust you with it. At least not yet. Which is why you must try harder to capture his heart."<br />
"He is not capable of that sort of thing."<br />
<br />
Her mother rolled her eyes."His lust, then. Whatever you wish to call it. I fear you are a very slow learner, Gwendolen. You have no concept of the power you could have over him, and others as well."<br />
She sighed irritably. "I don't want power over my husband. All I ever wanted was love and respect. I wanted to be my husband's equal, his supporter, and perhaps occasionally his adviser."<br />
<br />
Her mother cupped her daughter's chin in her hand. "Darling, you must get your head out of the clouds. We are women, and love will get us nothing. We're not the equals of men, therefore we must protect ourselves by being quietly cunning." <br />
<br />
Gwendolen felt a great wave of melancholy move through her. "Sometimes I believe you speak the truth, Mother, but other times, I want something more. I want to have influence, but through honest means. I want to earn my husband's respect, so that he can rely on me. I do have an intelligent mind. I can offer insight."<br />
They were quiet for a few minutes, then her mother's eyes softened with a show of sympathy. Gwendolen was surprised to feel the touch of her hand at her back. "Perhaps you are not such a slow learner after all. Perhaps you are faster and more ambitious than all of us. I am just not sure that you are realistic."<br />
Her future husband entered the hall just then, and Gwendolen wondered if she was indeed a dreamer. <br />
<br />
Of all the men in the world, this one was least likely to bend and allow anyone to wield power over him. He'd already told her in no uncertain terms that romantic love made a man weak, and that he wished to avoid it at all costs.<br />
<br />
He seemed just as determined to avoid feminine manipulations of a sexual nature. When it came to the bedroom, she was the one who was seduced into a puddle of dazed surrender and that did not bode well for her future influence as Mistress of Kinloch.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
It was a fine night for a feast, Angus thought as he entered the Great Hall and was arrested on the spot by the sight of his future bride on the other side of the room, dressed in a bloodred velvet gown that accentuated the curve of her hips and heightened her full, luscious bosom. The gold trimming transformed her into a priceless trophy, and her purity somehow mixed sensuously with the red-hot color of the gown against her ivory skin and glossy black hair. It was hot sex and sweet innocence combined, all wrapped up in one tempting, pretty package, and it aroused a rough and unruly restlessness in his core.<br />
<br />
Someone knocked into him and apologized, then engaged him in conversation. Yes, it was a fine night for a crowd. He needed the diversion, for he'd had trouble during the day concentrating on more important matters, like the management of Kinloch, now that he was chief.<br />
<br />
He'd spent many hours going over the record books in the treasury and had found everything in order perhaps even better managed than it had been when his father was laird. Revenues were up in all areas, and a number of useless, miscellaneous expenses had either been decreased or removed from the accounts entirely. As a result, he decided to allow Gordon MacEwen to keep his position as castle steward, with one of his own men to take on the role of assistant, and keep a watchful eye.<br />
<br />
A chorus of laughter from the interior of the room drew his attention. He found Lachlan in the center of it and led him away to discuss the matter with him, but was again preoccupied by the attendance of his future wife, who was moving about the room with effortless charm and a smile more dazzling than the sun.<br />
He realized at that moment that this political marriage was going to be a problem, for he was completely out of his element. He was an experienced warrior who faced lethal deathblows on the battlefield and struck back with ferocity. When he fought, he fought fearlessly, but he was not on a battlefield now. This was foreign territory, and he had no idea how to "conquer" a proper wife. She was not a woman of loose morals, like his usual sexual partners, who were more than happy to lift their skirts for the famous Scottish Lion. He certainly couldn't challenge her to a swordfight. Nor could he bed her against her will. Life experience prevented that sort of thing.<br />
<br />
So if he could not take her by force, he would have to seduce her into wanting it which was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. Because he did not wish to be intimate with her. Not now. Not ever. Love and intimacy made a man weak. It led him down a path that made him believe happiness was possible, and that he could forget all the evils in the world.<br />
Angus could not afford to rely on someone else for his happiness. Nor could he forget certain evils. He simply could not let down his guard. He could not become weak.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
"I find it odd," Gwendolen said to Onora that night after the feast, "that Angus has not forced himself upon me. He has had two opportunities, and it was hardly necessary for him to negotiate my terms of surrender. He simply could have bent me over the table in the hall and claimed me as his property, right then and there."<br />
They moved through the torchlit corridor to her bedchamber. She unlocked her door, entered, and sat down on the edge of the bed.<br />
<br />
"I learned something about him tonight," Onora said, as she removed her shoes and placed them together on the floor. "His cousin Lachlan is quite a charmer, and with a little persuading, he was willing to indulge me when I asked some delicate questions."<br />
Gwendolen swiveled on the bed to face her mother. "What exactly did you learn?" She wasn't sure she had ever craved information with such fervor before.<br />
<br />
Onora sat down on a chair. "He told me that Angus's younger sister was raped and killed by English soldiers a few years ago. It's part of the reason why he was banished. He went absolutely mad with vengeance against the English and betrayed a close friend who married an Englishwoman, and it was all very ugly in the end. Lachlan is not surprised that Angus is waiting until your wedding night before he beds you. He said Angus cannot bear to see any woman cry or plead, for it makes him think of his sister's final moments. It's why he has ordered his men to stay away from our MacEwen women. He wouldn't stand for any raping or pillaging."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen pondered this with a rather morbid curiosity, and not without some sympathy. "And yet, he told me he wanted to kill that Englishwoman."<br />
<br />
"But he didn't kill her, did he? And Lachlan said he had plenty of opportunities." Onora rose to her feet. "From what I understand of the situation, that friend he betrayed is now married to that woman, and they are very much in love. They have a son and another child on the way."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen pulled the pins from her hair. "He told me about his friend, and that he betrayed him, but he didn't tell me why. I had no idea it was because of what happened to his sister."<br />
Onora shrugged. "Well, at least it has given him reason to spare you for a week or so. You'll have time to prepare yourself for your first encounter. It won't be so terrible, darling. You'll see."<br />
<br />
Rising from the bed to undress, Gwendolen wondered if she would ever truly be prepared for it. And despite everything her mother had just told her, she was still amazed that Angus had shown such mercy toward her and her clan. Bitter, brooding vengeance was blatantly visible in his eyes. His deep anger and contempt for the world was obvious, and it never ceased to unnerve her.<br />
No, she was not yet ready to lie back and give herself over to him without fear. He was a dangerous man, and though he could be merciful in some ways, he did not seem capable of genuine tenderness or love. She was still very much afraid.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Chapter Eight<br />
<br />
<br />
Angus lay in bed, tossing and turning. There was no point in visiting Gwendolen's bedchamber again, he told himself, over and over. He'd given his word that he would not bed her before marriage, and he'd drunk too much wine tonight. In his present mood, a single moment alone with her could turn him into a liar, or worse.<br />
Nevertheless, when sleep continued to elude him, something compelled him to rise. He lit a candle, donned his shirt and tartan, and quietly ventured out of his father's chamber. He walked through the chilly castle corridors toward the East Tower and hesitated there. The torch at the bottom of the stairs had gone out, so he used his candle to light it again, climbed the twisting staircase, and stopped, disconcerted, outside Gwendolen's door.<br />
<br />
He felt like a dog that had caught the scent of something juicy and couldn't resist rummaging around. Reaching into his sporran for the key to her room, he inserted it into the lock, carefully turned it and entered, with the full intention of merely checking on her.<br />
<br />
Moving closer to the bed, he raised the candle high over his head and observed her sleeping form. The flame cast a dim golden glow across the gentle curve of her body. She had pushed the covers aside and was stretched out on her belly with one leg bent, her shift tangled around her voluptuous hips and bum. Her hair was splayed out around her like rich ribbons of black silk. The soft ivory flesh of her thighs gleamed erotically in the candlelight.<br />
<br />
His blood quickened, and he was forced to confront the uncomfortable truth that his capacity to be patient with her was fading fast. For two years, he had lived apart from society with the oracle, Raonaid a beautiful but unfeeling woman, who was, in a way, his mirror image. There had been nothing innocent or vulnerable about her. She was not tender, and she regarded the world with antagonism and ill will.<br />
For a time, he'd believed she was his perfect match, for she required very little from him. He could be distant and uncommunicative with her, and she offered no complaint, for she was just as distant in return. He really knew very little about her past, except for the fact that she had visions.<br />
<br />
This woman, however his future wife was his opposite in every way, for she was innocent and pure of heart, noble and self-sacrificing. Some long-forgotten part of him wanted to touch that purity. A more familiar part of him wanted to pilfer and consume it even when he knew he did not deserve to be in the same room with it. What he deserved was to rot in hell with a woman like Raonaid, who would not dare to judge him for his rancor, for she was the same.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen breathed deeply and rolled to her side. She cupped the pillow in her arms, brought her knees to her chest. A chilly draft caused the candle's flame to dance wildly on the wick, so he set the brass holder down on the table and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.<br />
<br />
A moment later, she tossed the covers aside with agitation and rolled onto her back. The sweet-smelling perfume of her body touched his nostrils and awakened his senses, just as she opened her eyes and blinked up at him innocently.<br />
<br />
A dangerous, passionate stirring of desire overwhelmed him. It was unlike any other desire he had ever felt for a woman. It was beyond sexual. He felt dazed, restless, and ravenous. In that moment, he was not sure he had the strength to keep the promise he had made to her, for he had never been a calm or patient man. He was a warrior at heart, and when he wanted something, he wanted it with violent, blinding fury.<br />
And tonight bargain or no bargain he wanted her.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwendolen had been dreaming of the lion again, and when she opened her eyes and saw Angus standing over her bed like a beautiful creature of the wild, she wasn't sure if she was awake or still floating in a mindless slumber.<br />
<br />
A candle flickered in the room, and his enormous shadow loomed on the wall behind him. He smelled of musk and leather. His golden hair fell in blustery waves onto his broad shoulders-just like the lion's mane in her dream and her flesh tingled when his hungry gaze roamed over her body. <br />
Was she still dreaming? Her body felt warm and languid, remarkably calm, as she squirmed lasciviously on the mattress.<br />
<br />
He crawled up onto the bed and positioned himself above her on all fours. His hair touched her cheek like the soft teasing tip of a feather, and she breathed deeply, realizing at last that he was not a figment of her imagination. He was true flesh and blood, and he had come to her bedchamber again, perhaps to break the promise he had made. Or perhaps he was here merely to explore and test the limits of her resistance.<br />
Without uttering a word, he found her mouth in the hush of stillness between them, and her quivering lips parted instinctively. His tongue, constantly moving, circled around hers in a rush of damp heat, while her blood began to pulse through her body in a sweltering torrent of sensation.<br />
<br />
His hand moved to her breast, and she gasped faintly at the light pressure of his thumb over her tingling nipple. She was surprised at herself that she was not fighting his advances but he had awakened her at the worst possible time, when she was aroused by the dream and did not feel so innocent.<br />
<br />
Angus lowered his heavy body to hers. Her shift was bunched around her hips, for she had tugged it up during sleep, and she could feel the soft wool of his tartan against her bare inner thighs. His hands came to rest on her hip, while his tongue continued to swirl erotically around hers.<br />
<br />
He had said nothing since the moment he entered the room, and she suspected that if she voiced even the smallest note of resistance, he would retreat, and for once, that was something she did not want. At least not yet.<br />
His hands explored her body in smooth, graceful motions, and she grew bold enough to touch the corded muscles of his back through the fabric of his shirt. She gathered his tartan in her fists, desperate to squeeze and tug at his clothes.<br />
<br />
A moment later, he dragged his lips from her mouth and kissed the side of her neck, moaning softly, as if he were devouring something succulent. She moaned in response, and his hand slid up under her shift and found the throbbing ache between her legs. His mouth moved quickly to her breasts, while he pushed her collar out of the way to gain better access. Gwendolen found herself squirming under the twin pleasures of his fingers stroking her womanhood and his tongue caressing her sensitive, pebbled nipple.<br />
<br />
His erection pressed against her thigh, and the room seemed to spin in circles. He would have her eventually, she knew, but somehow, full knowledge of his manhood at this moment seemed incidental to the overwhelming intensity of her emotions and her desire for more. Whether it happened now or later did not seem to matter. It was going to happen at some point. She could not stop it. She didn't want to stop it, at least not now.<br />
<br />
Using the heel of his palm, he continued to stroke between her legs until she could barely endure the pleasure. Then he slid one long, slick finger inside her. She stiffened and bucked slightly at the shock of the invasion.<br />
<br />
He paused, drawing his head back to look at her. "Am I hurting you?"<br />
They were the first words spoken since he entered the room.<br />
She shook her head, rather frantically.<br />
"One finger won't make a difference," he whispered. "You'll still be a virgin in the morning." <br />
He kissed her neck and breasts, as she lay panting, her chest heaving.<br />
<br />
"You must think me a child," she said.<br />
"Nay, I don't think that." He was still sliding his finger in and out of her with a slippery ease that made her shiver with delight. "You're all woman, and I'm surprised that you're mine." <br />
"I'm not yours yet," she reminded him, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasures. They made her feel wild and out of control. "I could still change my mind."<br />
<br />
He regarded her intently, then rolled to the side and rested a cheek on a hand, while still stroking her down below with the other. "Why would you say that now, when I'm doing everything I can to please you?"<br />
"Because you invaded my home," she replied, feeling breathless and distracted, barely able to think through the violent flow of sensation.<br />
<br />
"From what I heard," he said, leaning close to her ear and teasing her with his voice, "you almost put a bullet in my brain while I was completing the invasion. What stopped you?<br />
"I couldn't get a clear shot." She bit her lower lip and arched her back, while he continued to study her face.<br />
"Do you want me to stop talking?" he asked.<br />
<br />
She could only nod, grateful for the opportunity to focus on the increasing flood of pleasure that was moving through her body.<br />
He lay beside her with his cheek still resting on a hand, while he continued to plunge his finger in and out of her pulsing, scorching depths. She was impossibly wet down there, and the ever-increasing tension begged for release.<br />
<br />
Needing to hold on to something, she grabbed his forearm, closed her hand around the firm bands of muscle, and thrust her hips upward to meet each of his deep, slick penetrations. At last, the tension seemed to burst out of her. Pleasure racked her brain, and she tossed her head on the pillow, feeling as wild as an animal. A moment later, her heart slowed its galloping pace, and she shuddered inwardly as each exhausted throb of relief vibrated through her.<br />
<br />
He bent close to kiss her neck, lifted her shift and his kilt out of the way, and rolled on top of her. Her legs parted to accommodate him, and he swiveled his hips and touched the silky tip of his erection to the place where his hand had just been. The connection lit her on fire. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and wondered if he would claim her now.<br />
<br />
"Why did you not resist me tonight?" he asked, rising up on both arms to look down at her in the candlelight.<br />
"I don't know."<br />
It was the honest truth. Though perhaps it had something to do with the dream.<br />
"I'll need you to be willing when I make love to you."<br />
"You're not going to do it now?"<br />
He paused. "Nay."<br />
"Why not?"<br />
"Because I gave my word, and I can't expect you to keep yours, if I don't keep mine."<br />
"I see." He wanted her loyalty. Especially when her brother came. If he came.<br />
Angus drew himself away and sat back on his heels at the foot of the bed, looking at her.<br />
She leaned up on her elbows. "You should know," she said, "that I understand why it's important to you that I am willing. I know about your sister."<br />
<br />
He sat for a long time with his eyes downcast, then ran a hand through his hair. He climbed off the bed and fingered the brooch at his shoulder to straighten his tartan.<br />
Gwendolen crawled across the mattress and hugged the corner bedpost. "I'm very sorry that such a thing happened to her."<br />
<br />
He twisted slightly to arrange the belted section at the back. "I don't talk about it."<br />
"Not ever?"<br />
He shook his head. "Nay. I have to go now."<br />
The candle flickered as he picked it up and carried it to the door. "Good night, Gwendolen."<br />
"Good night," she replied, feeling rather bewildered by his swift, yet strangely polite exit.<br />
There had been something very different about him tonight. He had treated her with a certain degree of courtesy, for one, and his hands had been surprisingly gentle. She was still reeling from the pleasure she had never expected to feel with him.<br />
<br />
She watched the door close behind him, then flopped back onto the bed and strove to recover from her astonishment.</span>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-78763133852083119792011-10-17T05:39:00.000-07:002011-10-17T05:40:40.076-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_224.html">Chapter Five</a><br />
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<br />
Chapter Six<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwendolen fought to suppress her alarm. "You promised to leave me alone until our wedding night. Please go."<br />
"Nay, I promised to let you stay a virgin. I didn't promise to leave you alone. I'm here now, and I am staying, whether you like it or not."<br />
She frowned. "If I am to be your wife, you could at least<br />
try to win my affections."<br />
"I have no interest in your affections, lass. That's the last thing I want from you."<br />
He truly was a heartless man, interested in only one thing power over others. And perhaps a little debauchery on the side.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
"No, you just want me to satisfy your vulgar desires. But I am a woman with independent thoughts and feelings. I am not a dog you can command."<br />
"You'll be my wife soon, lass, and you will obey me, for I am laird and master here."<br />
"You are laird of Kinloch, not laird of my body. And I am not yet your wife, so I will say it again. Please leave my bedchamber."<br />
He moved around the side of the massive bed and began to tug at the coverings. She squeezed them to her chest, refusing to let him tear them away.<br />
"I think you are the one who's forgetting the promises we made to each other today," he said. "You gave your word that you'd be amiable toward me until our wedding night. Yet here you sit, insulting my character, calling me vulgar." He tugged harder at the bedclothes.<br />
"Let go," she said through gritted teeth.<br />
He used both hands, as if it were a frivolous game of tug-of-war and he was determined to win it. They pulled back and forth for a few seconds until Gwendolen knew it was pointless to continue. His hands were too big, his legs too strong, braced firmly on the floor. Sure enough, before she could voice a protest, the covers were whisked off the bed and tossed behind him.<br />
Clad only in her shift, Gwendolen hugged her knees to her chest.<br />
<br />
"That's better," he said, gazing down at her heatedly. "I don't like it when you hide from me."<br />
"Well, You'd better get used to it, because I have no intention of simply offering myself to you on a silver platter."<br />
He sat down on the edge of the bed.<br />
"Why are you here?" she asked. "Why can you not just leave me be?"<br />
"I couldn't sleep."<br />
"Neither could I, but that does not give me the right to go traipsing about in other people's bedchambers, forcing them to share in my wakefulness."<br />
He was always so serious, so somber, angry and threatening. She had yet to see him smile or show any warmth. Even if she closed her eyes, she could not imagine it.<br />
"Traipsing about," he said. "Is that what I'm doing?"<br />
"Aye."<br />
He casually looked about the room, which was lit only by the candles he'd brought with him and a small square of moonlight shining in through the window. "This was my bedchamber once, before I was sent away."<br />
Taken aback by this news, she tucked her bare toes under the hem of her shift. "I was not aware. I assumed..."<br />
"What?"<br />
"I don't know. I just never thought about which chamber was yours."<br />
Had he slept here as a lad? She could not imagine that either.<br />
Her heart was beating very fast, and when he said nothing more, she felt compelled to ramble on. "We changed the linens," she told him. "Other than that, everything is the same. The furniture, the rug..."<br />
He glanced at the braided rug and the bedclothes lying in a heap on top of it, and continued to sit in silence.<br />
What in the world did he want?<br />
"Of course, I could move to another room if you wish to have this one back," she suggested, wondering if that was why he had come. "There is a chamber just below this."<br />
"Nay, that was my sister's chamber. I occupy my father's quarters now."<br />
"You have a sister?" That was a surprise."<br />
<br />
Had. She's dead now."<br />
Struck by his gruff tone, Gwendolen softened hers. "I am sorry to hear that. How long ago?" she carefully asked.<br />
"A few years." He looked the other way.<br />
Still struggling with the flutter of nervous butterflies in her belly, Gwendolen sat very still, hoping that he might simply grow bored with her conversation and decide to leave on his own.<br />
She was not so fortunate, however. Slowly, he swiveled on the bed and stretched out on his back beside her. He crossed his long, muscled legs at the ankles and tossed an arm up under his head, while resting the other at his side.<br />
She took note of the fact that he was not armed. No swords, knives, or pistols hung from his belt. But that only made her more aware of his enormity, for her eyes were free to travel the full length of him from his large booted feet and thick thighs beneath the kilt, to his muscular torso and chest. The position of his arm, bent to cradle his head on the pillow, accentuated the incredible brawn of his biceps and the sheer breadth of his shoulders.<br />
Every nerve in her body was humming with the same mixture of fear and fascination she had felt that morning. And the fact that he was lying here quietly, without touching her or threatening ravishment, was not lost on her. She was attuned to every breath he took, every movement he made, while she strove not to do anything to attract his interest or arouse his lust.<br />
Perhaps he simply wanted to see his childhood room in order to prove to himself that he had indeed reclaimed his home. Despite everything, she was sympathetic to that. She hoped it was the reason for his presence in her bed, and that once he satisfied that curiosity, he would leave.<br />
A full quarter of an hour must have passed while she sat upright on the bed. The stars outside the window proved a useful distraction, until the steady sound of Angus's breathing alerted her to the fact that he had fallen asleep.<br />
She gazed down at him with surprise, for the sight of this battle-hardened warrior, sleeping peacefully beside her, was like staring into the shifting fog of a dream. It did not seem real. Angus the Lion could not possibly be this man in her bed, who had been a small boy once, sleeping in this very room, cradled perhaps in the arms of his mother.<br />
She leaned closer to study his face. There was nothing vicious about him now. The steely eyes were closed; his expression was serene. Her eyes drifted to his neck, then across his broad shoulders to the silver brooch pinned to his plaid. She glanced down at his kilt and knew what was under there. One day he would use that part of himself to claim his husbandly rights over her body. He would lie naked on top of her, and she would be forced to relent.<br />
Feeling a sudden rise of panic, she set a hand down on the bed to steady herself, and realized this was an unexpected opportunity. Her conqueror was asleep and vulnerable beside her. Was it not her duty to take some kind of action against him? He was reputed to be invincible, but she knew those stories were nothing but fireside tales and legends.<br />
Nevertheless, could she actually succeed in killing him if she tried? Would she have the courage?<br />
Gently and carefully, she rolled to the edge of the bed and reached down to feel for the knife she had placed beneath the mattress that morning. Her fingertips located the grip, and she wrapped her whole hand around it. Slowly, she rolled back toward Angus. He had not moved, nor had his breathing changed in the last few seconds. It was entirely possible that she could plunge this knife into his chest, or slit his throat, and succeed at freeing herself and her clan.<br />
She looked down at him in the candlelight, at his bare, vulnerable neck. She could see the throbbing of his pulse. A crashing wave of nausea overcame her. She had never killed anyone, and was not sure she could do it now, despite the fact that he was her enemy and she had watched him slaughter dozens of her clansmen that morning.<br />
Would she not go to hell for murdering a sleeping, unarmed man in cold blood? It was not a fair fight, but it was self-defense if one could stretch the definition to include generalities, such as the need to protect herself from an unwanted marriage...<br />
Suddenly his eyes opened. In a lightning flash of movement, he seized the knife and flipped her over onto her back. The sharp blade was now pressing against her throat, and she was pinned to the bed, unable to breathe, her heart racing with white-hot terror.<br />
"You should have done it when you had the chance," he said in a dangerous whisper. "You could have ended my life and spared yourself the horror of your deflowering." <br />
She stared up at him in shock. "I've never killed anyone before. I couldn't even do it to you. I am no warrior." <br />
She was a complete and utter coward.<br />
His blue eyes focused on her lips, then he pressed the dull edge of the blade up under her chin. Terror pulsed through her veins as she faced his newly awakened wrath, felt the tight grip of his hand on her shoulder. His body was heavy, pressing her into the bed. After a long, agonizing moment, he leaned over her and set the knife on the bedside table.<br />
"Don't turn yourself into a killer," he said, "unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then, think carefully about the damage to your soul, and whether or not it's worth an eternity in hell."<br />
She tried to sit up, but he pinned her arms over her head. "Was it worth it for you? All the killing you did?"<br />
"My soul was damaged early in life, lass, so I had little to lose. Now give me your mouth. I didn't come here to talk about killing."<br />
<br />
He let go of her wrists and slid his hands under her behind, pressing his hips tightly to hers. The sweeping physical sensation made her body arch and burn. Her mind careened with fear. Her limbs went weak and tingly as his hands stroked the side of her hip, and his own hips thrust against her in a steady, potent rhythm.<br />
Then he kissed her. Her mouth opened instinctively, and it was hot and wet and searing.<br />
He had promised he would not rob her of her virginity, yet this was surely just as depraved. She could feel her innocence slipping away, sliding into a strange world of need. She had been more than capable of resisting such feelings earlier in the day, but now all she felt was relief over the fact that she had not killed him. Which made no sense. Because she hated him she hated him and she did not want this.<br />
But what was it about the darkness that made touching him feel like a hallucination? She was slowly pulling away from her rage, and had to work hard to remember that he was her enemy. All she felt now was a heady desire for his touch, and it was somehow delicious. He was a virile man with greedy hands and cunning lips, and he possessed the ability to turn her body to liquid fire.<br />
"I don't understand why you're here," she said in a breathless whisper, fighting to subdue the throbbing rush of heat that was traveling from her belly to her thighs. "You can't make love to me. You promised. Yet that seems to be what you are doing."<br />
"I can make love to you without rupturing your maidenhead, lass, and you, in turn, can pleasure me tonight, and still be a virgin in the morning."<br />
"How?" <br />
He drew back slightly. "You are an innocent, aren't you?"<br />
<br />
She tried to push him away, but her arms had turned to limp rags. His lips found hers again, and the damp thrust of his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth made her quiver inwardly and yearn for something more, when she did not want to feel any such thing. If only she was built of steel, like he was.<br />
He spread his fingers down the side of her leg and tugged at her shift, lifting it up over her trembling thigh.<br />
"Please don't," she said, grabbing hold of it and yanking it back down to remain as a barrier between them, even while she was tempted by the danger and fear of the unknown.<br />
Surprisingly, he removed his hand from her leg and cupped the back of her head instead, kissing her more deeply, while thrusting his strong body into hers.<br />
She had not known how restless a person could become in such a situation, and found herself responding to every touch, every kiss, each incredible, erotic sensation.<br />
"Ah," he sighed."That's it, lass. Do you know how appealing you are?"<br />
"You need not flatter me," she said harshly. "I am your prisoner. You have control over me. I must therefore pleasure you, regardless of my own objections."<br />
His head drew back again, and he looked at her in the candlelight. "But you are warming to me. I can feel it in your kiss, hear it in your voice."<br />
"You hear only what you want to hear, for I am <br />
not warming to you, Angus. I assure you."<br />
She was surprised by the hatred she managed to convey in those words, even while she was melting with desire and a strange bliss she had never known to exist.<br />
But she was even more surprised by the severity of his reaction. He frowned at her with pointed anger and sat back on his haunches.<br />
She wasn't sure if the anger was directed at her, or at himself.<br />
"What's wrong?" she asked, more fearful now than she had been a moment ago when he was attempting to slide his hand up her leg.<br />
He slid off the bed. "I've lost interest in this."<br />
Shocked, and ridiculously humiliated by his sudden withdrawal, she sat forward. "You're leaving?"<br />
"Aye. I have things to do."<br />
"In the middle of the night?"<br />
He offered no explanation as he strode to the door, walked out, and swung it shut behind him. The flames on the candelabra flickered wildly in the draughts from the corridor, then everything went still.<br />
Gwendolen flopped down on the bed and exhaled with relief, for she was still in possession of her virtue and had not disgraced herself by surrendering in a delirious fever to the Lion's seductions, when there was so much more to this than mere physical desire.<br />
She struggled to regain her sanity, knowing that she must keep her head and remember where her loyalties lay. She had to resist the wanton urge to give him free rein over her body, for her brother might soon return, and when he did, she must be ready to reclaim her freedom, and the independence of her clan.<br />
<br />
She could not succumb to this temptation.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-46884655127480369952011-10-13T05:55:00.000-07:002011-10-13T05:55:43.617-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a> <br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_4393.html">Chapter Four</a><br />
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Chapter Five <br />
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<br />
Gwendolen looked down at the bowl of soup that was placed before her, and breathed in the rich, steaming aroma of meat, swimming in a thick, seasoned broth. In the center of the table, a whole roast pig, golden and crisp, rested on a platter, waiting to be sliced and devoured. She gazed around despondently at the urns of fruit, the shiny candelabras, and all the servants moving about the hall with trays of food, and felt a pounding chaos inside her head that simply would not die.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
"I heard rumors," Angus said, "that you were helpful in the surgery today. That you worked tirelessly, devotedly, and that you were kind and compassionate. It sounds like you were an angel of mercy."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen strove to remind herself that she had promised to be amiable toward him. "I did what I could, though some losses were inevitable. And very great."<br />
<br />
"The men of your clan fought bravely," he said. "You should be proud."<br />
<br />
"Perhaps that is true, but my pride will not bring that woman's son back from the dead." She gestured toward Beth MacEwen, Douglas's mother, to whom she had just been speaking.<br />
<br />
Angus gave her a sharp glance. "Nor does my triumph today restore my father to this chair, lass. Rather it is I who must take his place."<br />
<br />
She recognized the note of displeasure in his voice and took some time to allow the heated moment to cool before she replied. "I am sorry for the loss of your father. It is never an easy thing. As you know, I lost my father, too, and my grief is very recent."<br />
<br />
He inclined his head. "Is this a competition? Do you think that because my father died two years ago, you suffer more?"<br />
<br />
"No, I did not mean that"<br />
<br />
"I learned of my father's death one month ago. For two years, I have lived in exile with no knowledge of it. I was not here to fight at his side, and for that, I will always live with regret."<br />
<br />
She sat quietly, dipping her spoon into the broth. "I'm sorry. I did not realize." After a brief moment of silence, she added, "I suppose that means we have something in common."<br />
<br />
"And what is that?" he asked impatiently.<br />
"Grief. Four weeks old."<br />
<br />
He studied her profile for a moment, then turned his head the other way to say something to Lachlan, who sat to his left.<br />
<br />
Similarly, Gwendolen turned her attention to her mother, who sat beside her, praising the food and the wine as she conversed with the MacDonald clansman who sat to her right.<br />
<br />
"Are you learning anything?" Onora discreetly asked Gwendolen, while reaching for a bright red apple.<br />
<br />
"I am trying my best."<br />
"Keep trying, darling. You must discover how this man can be brought to his knees."<br />
<br />
Under any other circumstances, such talk about a man would have offended Gwendolen, who believed in truth and honesty between the sexes not this strategic posturing and game playing. But this impending marriage was hardly a natural one. It was forged from bloody battles and a quest for power, so she could not afford to be so righteous or romantic, nor could she retreat from her duty.<br />
"I don't know what to ask him."<br />
<br />
"Find out if he plans to follow in his father's footsteps and raise another rebellion for the Stuarts. If that is the case, we may find ourselves on the wrong side of the law when King George learns of it. He awarded this castle to our clan as a gift of loyalty. We cannot be branded as Jacobites. You must discover Angus's intentions."<br />
Gwendolen turned to her future husband, but Onora touched her arm. "Wait. First, try to find out if he is the Butcher of the Highlands. Knowledge like that could be invaluable. The Butcher is the most sought-after rebel in Scotland, and if we were to reveal his identity and turn him in, the King would be in our debt."<br />
<br />
Recognizing the simple brilliance of that plan, Gwendolen turned to Angus and strove to be inconspicuous as she brought up the subject of his past. "May I ask you a question?"<br />
"Aye."<br />
"Why were you gone from Kinloch for so long? And why did you ever leave, if you love this place so much?"<br />
"Have you not heard the rumors?" He glanced at her with a thin sheen of ice over his eyes.<br />
<br />
Determined not to shy away from the question, she met his gaze head-on. "I have heard some, yes, but I don't put much stock in them. Especially when they surround a man like you, who attracts gossip like the plague."<br />
<br />
"I don't seek such attention," he told her.<br />
"Nay, but it finds you, nevertheless. And you still have not answered my question."<br />
"Nor have you told me what rumors you've heard."<br />
<br />
She took a sip of wine. "There are a few different stories. Some say you are the infamous Butcher of the Highlands the notorious Jacobite rebel who disappeared two years ago after escaping from an English prison. No one has seen or heard from him since. His identity is still a mystery, and many think he is secretly gathering forces to raise another rebellion. Is that what this is?" she asked him directly. "Have you taken Kinloch to create a garrison for the Jacobites?"<br />
<br />
He was quiet for a long time. "Nay. I don't want to raise a rebellion. I want to live in peace."<br />
<br />
She glanced at his face, searching for the truth in his eyes whatever it was but everything about him was hard as steel. There was nothing readable in his expression, no hint of vulnerability, no chink in his armor.<br />
<br />
"You wouldn't tell me anyway, would you?" she said. <br />
"Even if this was to become a Jacobite stronghold, you would guard that secret with your life, for you know my political opinions."<br />
<br />
"Aye." <br />
"But would you tell me if you were the Butcher?" she asked. <br />
"Because I would like to know if I am about to marry someone so..." She was about to say "murderous," but thought better of it. "Famous."<br />
<br />
Angus glanced at her knowingly, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say the first time. "Did you follow his escapades, lass?"<br />
<br />
"Aye, and although I did not agree with his politics or his savage approach to achieving his goals, I was intrigued and strangely moved by his passions. They say he did everything to avenge the death of his beloved, that he loved her so much, he could not exist without her."<br />
<br />
Angus slowly sipped his wine. "I would expect you to condemn him for his methods, not praise him for his motivations."<br />
She dipped her spoon into her soup. "I am not praising him. I simply found the situation intriguing. That is all. As you know, I am a proponent of peace, and indeed his methods were inexcusable."<br />
<br />
Angus turned in his chair to face her. "But sometimes violence is the only way to achieve peace. Do not forget that your own father attacked this castle in the name of it. Many clansmen were forced to fight, and many died that day."<br />
Gwendolen nodded, for he was correct on that point.<br />
<br />
"And I am not the Butcher of the Highlands," he added. <br />
"You have my word on that."<br />
She was pleased to hear that she was not about to marry that particular murderous rebel, whose reputation was even more notorious than Angus the Lion's but then she reminded herself that if he was the Butcher, King George's army would have marched here straightaway and liberated her clan from the clutches of that Scottish fugitive in an instant.<br />
"Do you believe me?" he asked.<br />
She looked up at him and nodded.<br />
But his eyes turned cold. He picked up his wine. "Good. Because I couldn't possibly be him. I never had a great beloved, nor am I even capable of such passions where a woman is concerned. That sort of thing clouds a man's judgment and makes him weak."<br />
<br />
She looked him squarely in the eyes, realizing that he was again working to put her in her place, to make sure she understood that she would never be able to control him or influence him with her femininity. She was a mere lamb to him. She was not a threat.<br />
<br />
"You prefer it when people fear you," she said.<br />
<br />
He reclined against the tall chair and looked at her with a renewed sexual hunger that seemed to come out of nowhere. "I'm glad to see you're catching on."<br />
<br />
Her heart began to pound, for there was nothing weak or cloudy about this man's passions. He wanted to bed her in order to slake his lust, and he was fully confident that he would do so, without impediment, when the appropriate moment arrived.<br />
<br />
She was offended by the notion of simply providing him with an outlet for his sexual impulses. He might be an unromantic, coldhearted warrior, but she was more sensitive than that. Before this invasion of her home, she had dreamed of a great love match for herself. She'd imagined a chivalrous Scotsman who would devote himself to her passionately until his last dying breath.<br />
<br />
She was a romantic at heart, she'd always known it, but it seemed the time had come to accept a harsher reality. Soon she would be married to a ruthless warrior without a tender bone in his body, and it filled her heart with dread.<br />
<br />
They did not converse during the rest of the meal, and only when dessert was served, did Gwendolen realize he still had not answered her question about why he left Kinloch two years ago.<br />
<br />
"Are you ever going to tell me why you were gone for so long?" she asked, without looking at him. "Or do you intend to use the mystery of your absence to keep me guessing about your ferocity?"<br />
He swallowed his dessert whole, then wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "My father and I had a disagreement," he told her. "I did something deceitful and will probably burn in hell for it. He told me I was no longer his son, and he ordered me to leave and never return. I abided by his wishes until Lachlan found me after a two-year search, and informed me of my clan's defeat, and the loss of Kinloch to your father."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen regarded him with a persistent curiosity. "What deceitful thing did you do to deserve such a punishment?"<br />
She waited, breath held, for a description of his offense.<br />
"I betrayed a friend."<br />
"Why? Did he do something to you? Did you quarrel?"<br />
"Aye, we quarreled a number of times. Let's just say I did not approve of his choice of a wife, and I was adamant in my opinions."<br />
She mulled over his reply. "Were you in love with her yourself?"<br />
"God, no! Did you not hear a word I said earlier?"<br />
<br />
Gwendolen supposed she had become somewhat flustered since she sat down. "Pardon me. I wasn't thinking."<br />
<br />
He picked up his goblet and held it on his lap. "I despised her, if you must know. If I'd had my way, she wouldn't have survived long enough to bewitch him into marrying her.<br />
<br />
"Good heavens, would you have killed her?" The horror poured out of Gwendolen like a flash flood.<br />
A muscle clenched at his jaw, and he spoke with a dark and quiet foreboding. "What do you think?"<br />
Gwendolen leaned back in her chair. "That is why you betrayed this friend? Because he chose her, over you?"<br />
He glanced the other way. "Aye."<br />
<br />
"I can hardly blame him," she said. "Love should always triumph over evil."<br />
<br />
Remarkably unperturbed, he leaned very close. <br />
"You think I'm evil, do you?"<br />
"You said yourself that you would burn in hell for your actions."<br />
"That I did. And I'm certain I will."<br />
A fiddler passed in front of them. He sang a lively tune in Gaelic, distracting them for a moment, then moved on down the table.<br />
"Did you ever try to reconcile with your friend?" Gwendolen asked, reaching for her goblet.<br />
"Nay."<br />
"Why not?" <br />
"Because I still think he was wrong."<br />
She pushed her plate away. "Is he still with the woman you warned him against?<br />
"Aye."<br />
"And are they happy?"<br />
He tapped the tip of his finger impatiently on the arm of the chair. "I don't know, and I don't care. I haven't seen either of them for two years."<br />
<br />
The fiddler finished the tune, and Angus rose to his feet. A hush swept over the room like a breezy chill, for everyone knew it was time for all MacEwens to pledge their oath of allegiance to their new laird.<br />
<br />
Feeling a ripple of apprehension, Gwendolen sat back and considered all that she had learned about her future husband in the last hour.<br />
None of it made her feel any better about her situation.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That night after the feast, Gwendolen lay in bed, still contemplating the disturbing conversation she'd had with her betrothed.<br />
He claimed he had no intentions of using Kinloch in another Jacobite rebellion. She wasn't certain, however, that he was telling the truth.<br />
He also did not believe in romantic love. Not that she had any fanciful notions that their marriage would be anything other than a political arrangement, but she'd hoped that somewhere in his past, he might have cared for a woman, or at least understood the emotion in others. With every word or gesture, however, he confirmed her initial impressions of him that he was an instrument of war, a steel-edged blade, and his heart was made of stone.<br />
Although... There was one thing she had learned tonight which suggested a hint of compassion somewhere in the dark abyss of his soul. He had insisted the MacEwen widows be given time to grieve for their dead husbands before any MacDonald clansmen could make advances upon them.<br />
Had that order come from him directly? she wondered. Had he felt some sympathy for their plight? Or had the idea come from his cousin Lachlan?<br />
At least that man seemed attuned to the feminine mind. He had been understanding of her fear when he escorted her from the hall that morning, and he had certainly known how to go about charming her mother.<br />
Angus, on the other hand, had no interest in charming anyone. He was more like a sledgehammer when it came to getting what he wanted.<br />
A knock sounded at the door just then, and she sat up in bed, startled as she peered through the darkness.<br />
"Who's there?"<br />
The door creaked open, and without waiting for an invitation, her fiance entered the room, carrying the silver-plated candelabra from her father's chamber.<br />
Although it belonged to Angus now. Everything did. Including her.<br />
He set the candles down on the chest, closed the door, locked it behind him, then slowly approached the foot of the bed.<br />
Gwendolen watched him in uneasy silence. "What are you doing here?" she asked. <br />
He strode casually around the bed, while the candlelight picked up the golden tones in his wavy hair.</span>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-8912871822113276892011-10-13T05:39:00.000-07:002011-10-13T05:46:13.276-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<span lang="N"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html">Chapter One</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html">Chapter Two</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne_13.html">Chapter Three</a><br />
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<br />
Chapter Four<br />
<br />
<br />
The Great Hall that evening pulsed with the laughter of men, underscored by the spirited music from a fiddle player who wandered about the room, his bow dancing merrily across the strings. The colorful gowns of the MacEwen women lent a festival atmosphere to the gathering, and the aroma of fresh bread and seasoned roast mutton, with the promise of sweet pastries for dessert, made it seem as if there were something to celebrate.<br />
<br />
Not so for Gwendolen, however. She entered the hall in a plain<br />
<a name='more'></a> gown of gray silk, feeling as if she were descending into the searing hot flames of Satan's dining room.<br />
<br />
All the MacEwen heraldry had been taken down. There was nothing left of it, except for what was carved into the stones over the hearth. Everyone seemed happy enough on the surface, she supposed, but for the MacEwens, this smiling civility toward their invaders was nothing but a mask they wore to cover their fear and loathing.<br />
Fear, mostly, thanks to their new leader.<br />
<br />
She ventured more deeply into the hall and roamed through the crowd. Having spent the day tending to the wounded on both sides, she was physically and emotionally spent. For those who had survived the battle, their injuries were mostly light. Some were here this evening, patched up, but still ready to drink and make merry, although one clansman Douglas, her old friend had suffered a painful end when the surgeon tried to remove a musket ball from his shoulder.<br />
Hence, the music and tempting aroma of the feast did little to improve Gwendolen's mood. She knew she must hide her grief, however, for the people of her clan would need her confidence and encouragement in the coming days.<br />
She spotted her mother on the far side of the hall, looking radiant in a sage-colored gown that highlighted her auburn hair. Gwendolen was at least pleased to see that Onora was wearing her best jewels, which meant Angus had kept his word and not deprived her of her status. <br />
Gwendolen glanced around the hall for her future husband, whom she had not seen since the morning, but recognized only the darkly handsome warrior who had escorted her to her father's chamber the one named Lachlan. He had caught sight of Onora, however, and set out on a determined path toward her from across the room.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen hurried to join her mother, and like the third point of a triangle, she arrived just as they all connected in the center.<br />
And who, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Onora asked, when Lachlan handed her a goblet of wine he had picked up from a passing servant.<br />
<br />
"I am Angus's cousin," he said with a heavy Scottish brogue. "Lachlan MacDonald, Laird of War. My father, before me, was also Kinloch's Laird of War, cut down in battle when your husband invaded here two years ago." He gazed at her with a masculine, but somehow playful, arrogance.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen's mother, also playful and never daunted, awarded him a dazzling smile. "What an honor to meet such a brave and heroic man. I am charmed." She held out her hand.<br />
He bent forward and kissed it, never taking his eyes off hers, and Gwendolen felt rather invisible.<br />
<br />
"You have soft lips, sir."<br />
<br />
"And your eyes, madam, are as elegant as your jewels."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen stepped forward to interrupt. "We met earlier this morning," she said.<br />
<br />
He straightened and turned to her. "Aye. Miss MacEwen."<br />
<br />
"And where is our great conquering laird this evening?" she asked. "I hope he will soon grace us with his presence."<br />
He smirked at her blatant show of sarcasm. "As do I, because I have no interest in occupying his chair this evening. I have other plans." <br />
Onora touched a finger to the brooch at his shoulder, and adjusted his tartan. "And what might those plans be, sir?"<br />
<br />
"Don't know yet, madam. I'm just now getting reacquainted with the lay of the land."<br />
<br />
"Well." Her eyes sparkled. "If you need help finding your way around the castle, you must come to me first. I would be delighted to assist. If there is any way I can be of use to you. <br />
Any way at all..."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen cleared her throat. "If you will excuse us please, Lachlan. I would like to have a word with my mother."<br />
He bowed to them, and backed away toward a group of warriors who were knocking their pewter tankards together, spilling ale onto the floor, tipping their heads back to guzzle.<br />
Gwendolen led her mother to a quiet corner. "Must you idly flirt with every last member of the enemy clan? Can you not behave yourself for just one night?"<br />
<br />
Onora shook her head. "First of all, I never flirt idly. That one was Laird of War. Now tell me what happened this morning when the ferocious Lion locked you in your father's chamber. I heard it was difficult. Are you all right?"<br />
<br />
"I am fine, Mother. I spent the day tending to the wounded."<br />
Onora led her deeper into the shadows. "I don't care what you did all day. I want to know what happened in the bedchamber. You can tell me anything, darling. In fact, tell me everything. What happened?"<br />
<br />
Gwendolen looked around to ensure no one was listening, then leaned close and spoke in a whisper. "It was difficult, indeed. He used the threat of sex to bring me under control and trick me into submission, because he knew I did not want it."<br />
<br />
Onora drew back slightly. "Only the threat of it?"<br />
<br />
"Aye. Well... He did toss me onto the bed, and he joined me there, and took... certain... liberties." Her body trembled at the mere memory of it.<br />
<br />
"You didn't try to fight him off?"<br />
<br />
"Of course I did, but he's very strong." <br />
"Mm. I did observe that."<br />
<br />
"You've met him?"<br />
<br />
"Aye. He visited your bedchamber this morning to have a brief word with me after he saw you. He came through the door, bold as a bull, and informed me that he was the new laird. He then told me to return to my own apartments, and that I could keep my jewels."<br />
<br />
"What did you say?"<br />
<br />
"Nothing. He walked out before I had a chance to speak. He didn't seem interested in hearing what I had to say anyway. He was very impatient. Appeared to be in a great hurry."<br />
<br />
A hush fell over the crowd just then, as the great Lion entered the hall and took a seat in her father's chair at the head table, which was draped with a white cloth and adorned with pewter bowls of fruit and flowers. A servant brought a jewel-encrusted goblet of wine and set it down in front of him. He picked it up and reclined back in the chair.<br />
<br />
Onora watched him with interest. "I learned today that he was banished to the Hebrides for the past two years, and while he was there, he had an oracle for a lover."<br />
<br />
"An oracle?" Though Gwendolen did not wish to know anything about his past lovers, she could not deny that this particular piece of information fascinated her. "Was she genuine? Did she predict things?"<br />
<br />
"Apparently so. She told him he would succeed in his quest to regain control of Kinloch, and that his time would come, that he would achieve all his dreams. You know sort of thing that encourages a man's passions." Onora twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Perhaps I should call myself an oracle."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen ignored the silly remark. "Where is this oracle now? Please do not tell me that she followed him here."<br />
<br />
"No. He left her behind in the Hebrides. From what I understand, she was a crafty little witch. And I mean that in the worst possible way." Onora sipped her wine and watched Angus over the rim of her glass. "How was he, when he came to you?"<br />
"How do you mean?"<br />
<br />
"Was he a good lover?"<br />
<br />
Gwendolen sighed with discontent. "How would I know? It was the first time anything like that ever happened to me, so I am in no position to make such an assessment. And can we please talk about something else? The man is my enemy. I do not care if he is a good lover or not. It won't matter."<br />
<br />
Her mother took another sip of wine. "I think you may discover that it matters very much. Even more so, because he is your enemy."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen watched her future husband converse with a MacEwen warrior, who stood just below the dais, seeking to make a good impression, no doubt. "I don't understand you." <br />
"No, clearly you do not, but you will eventually, and you may come looking for my advice at which time you will have a world of wisdom at your fingertips. Then we shall see who brings whom under control. You may be surprised to discover you have the upper hand." Onora raised the goblet to her lips again and watched Angus carefully while she took a long, slow drink. "At least he s handsome. Imagine if he had the face of a boar."<br />
<br />
"Mother."<br />
She turned her sparkling eyes to Gwendolen. "Promise that you will at least try to charm him. You know what they say you can catch more flies with honey..."<br />
<br />
"I don't want to catch him. I want him to leave. Which is why we must send word to Murdoch and tell him what has occurred. The sooner he returns, the better. If he could come with an army..."<br />
<br />
"Mm," her mother said. "I suppose that is the responsible thing to do."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen looked around the room with dismay. <br />
"Sometimes I wonder why I am so devoted to you."<br />
<br />
Onora beamed a smile at her. "Because I am your mother, and you adore me."<br />
<br />
Ten servants entered the hall carrying platters of warm bread, fresh out of the oven, which they placed on the long trestle tables. The hum of conversation and laughter in the room died away as the clansmen and women moved to find seats at the benches.<br />
<br />
"I suppose it's time we joined our enemies," Gwendolen said. She made a move to leave, but her mother caught her arm.<br />
<br />
"Wait." She spoke in a more serious tone. "You should know, Gwendolen, that Angus has ordered his men to refrain from helping themselves to any of our women, especially those who lost husbands in the battle today. The women are all to be given time to grieve. Only then will the MacDonald clansmen be permitted to make wives out of them."<br />
<br />
"Why are you telling me this?"<br />
<br />
She shrugged. "I thought you might like to know. And perhaps such information about your future husband will make it easier for you to do what you must do. The first time is never easy."<br />
<br />
She regarded her mother with understanding and a whisper of quiet gratitude.<br />
<br />
"I appreciate what you are trying to do," she said, "but I don't think anything is going to make this less difficult. Let us just pray that it is over as quickly as possible."<br />
<br />
*** <br />
<br />
<br />
Angus leaned back in his chair when a servant came to refill his goblet. His attention was diverted, however, by the image of his future wife crossing the hall to join him at the table.<br />
<br />
He marveled at his unexpected good luck that the woman he'd claimed for a bride did not have the face of a turnip. Even in that ugly gray frock, she outshone every woman in the room, for there was something intangible and strangely ethereal about her beauty, something radiant that burned in those keen brown eyes. Her complexion was ivory-white, while her thick, sable hair was an exotic and striking contrast of darkness. To top it all off, those cherry-red lips were supple and full, and the effect of her presence as a whole was enough to make his head spin.<br />
<br />
But as he watched her approach and felt a carnal urge to rise up from the table and drag her by the hand to his bed he began to wonder if he had been cursed, rather than blessed, for he had no interest in becoming infatuated with anyone, much less a wife.<br />
<br />
He had seen what romantic obsessions did to men. He had watched his closest friend, Duncan MacLean, lay down his sword and give up his warrior life for the mad love of a woman.<br />
<br />
An English woman, at that. Angus had been so frustrated by the affair and by his own inability to talk sense into Duncan that he'd gone a little mad himself. Mad with rage and unthinkable treachery. Eventually mad with shame.<br />
<br />
"You look lost in thought," Lachlan said, sitting down beside him and tearing off a hunk of the warm, crusty bread. "Can't blame you. She's a prize, that one."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen stopped to speak to an older woman in the crowd.<br />
<br />
Angus picked up his goblet and frowned. "Aye, she's fetchin', to be sure, and has the fire of a fighting Scot in her blood, but make no mistake about it. The real prize is Kinloch."<br />
<br />
Lachlan leaned back in his chair. "Aye, but what is Kinloch, if not for its people? Without them, it's just stones and mortar."<br />
<br />
Angus regarded him irritably. "Stones and mortar, Lachlan? Were your brains addled during the battle this morning? Without these walls, there is no home. There is nothing."<br />
<br />
He could testify to that. He had been two years banished, living in the cold, damp outer reaches of the Western Isles in a thatched hut with Raonaid another outcast like himself. A gifted devil of a woman who had been banished for her unearthly talents, and had no other place to go. The entire time, he'd felt like he was bobbing about in a frigid sea with no sign of land or even a mucky bottom to set his feet upon. He had never felt more lost or nonexistent. He had not known it was possible to feel like a living ghost.<br />
<br />
He took another sip of wine and watched Gwendolen over the rim of the goblet. She and her mother another dangerous beauty were still chattering with the woman, who wiped a tear from her cheek. Gwendolen offered her a folded kerchief from inside her sleeve.<br />
<br />
"Your future mother-in-law seems like a champion vixen," Lachlan said in a low voice, leaning close. "You ought to keep a close eye on her. I learned today that she took her dead husband's steward to bed on the day of the funeral, and has been pulling the man's strings ever since."<br />
<br />
"Aye, but there's more," Angus replied. "She's been having him in her bed for over a year, ruling Kinloch from behind closed doors the entire time. Her husband was a puppet, too."<br />
<br />
Lachlan sipped his wine. "I confess I am not surprised, having just met her. Does the daughter know?"<br />
<br />
Angus studied Gwendolen from across the room. "I cannot be sure. It's difficult to imagine she didn't know what was going on. She's clever and strong-willed. Yet she seems too virtuous to condone such a thing."<br />
<br />
He thought about the softness of her skin beneath his roaming hands, and how she had responded to his touch with such repressed desire. He wondered if she was like her mother, and it was all a clever act to make him believe he'd succeeded in conquering her to give him a false sense of power and confidence or if she had truly been aroused by his kiss and would prove malleable in the future.<br />
"And what did you learn about the son today?" Angus asked, redirecting his thoughts to a different matter. "My future wife believes he will come home at any moment and seize back what he believes to be his."<br />
<br />
"That, I am afraid, is no lie. News was sent to him about his father's death, but there has been no response, so he could arrive at the gates tomorrow for all we know. I also learned that his departure was not friendly. He and his father quarreled for weeks before. Some say it involved a woman he was not permitted to marry, which explains his absence at his father's deathbed, for they were estranged."<br />
<br />
Again, Angus thought of his friend Duncan's romantic obsession with a woman, and how such passions could distract a man from his purpose as a warrior and leader of men.<br />
"Does Murdoch have the power to raise an army?" he asked.<br />
"He has the support of King George. It's why Kinloch was lost to the MacEwens in the first place."<br />
<br />
"Because of my father's undying Jacobite passions." Angus sipped his wine and remembered all the politics and campaigning for the Stuart Crown, and how it had ended in defeat on the battlefield at Sherrifmuir.<br />
Lachlan tore off another hunk of bread. "Your father raised an army to dethrone a king, and reigning monarchs don't take kindly to that sort of thing, Angus. King George will no doubt be watching you very closely in the coming months, for any secret maneuverings."<br />
<br />
"I have no such intentions," Angus replied. "At least not presently. I want peace at Kinloch. I've seen enough bloodshed for a while."<br />
<br />
Lachlan studied his profile. "I never thought I'd see the day when Angus the Lion was not hungry for battle."<br />
"Nor did I. And that's not to say I won't get an itch I'll want to scratch one day in the future. But for now, I have a duty here to restore Kinloch to the people of my clan and provide stability."<br />
<br />
"A wife and child ought to bring that about."<br />
"Aye, and in light of that, we need to annihilate the possibility of any further invasions from another ambitious MacEwen chieftain."<br />
<br />
Lachlan leaned forward. "I thought you said you were tired of bloodshed."<br />
<br />
"Aye. I am," Angus replied. "And I'd prefer it not come to that. I don't think my intended bride would take kindly to it. He is her brother after all."<br />
<br />
"What is to be done then?"<br />
<br />
Angus spoke in a hushed tone. "Send a man to find Murdoch, and make him an offer of land and status. If he wants peace, he will accept."<br />
<br />
"And if he doesn't?"<br />
<br />
Angus glanced soberly at Gwendolen, who began to make her way toward the table. "Do what is necessary to ensure peace. There can be no more invasions."<br />
<br />
Lachlan nodded and sat back. "I understand. I'll put a few hunters on his trail at first light."<br />
<br />
The noise and laughter in the hall subsided as Gwendolen stepped up onto the dais. Angus rose to his feet and held out his hand. She hesitated and eyed it with suspicion before she slipped her tiny fingers into his palm and faced the members of their clans. The hall fell silent and remained so, until Angus and Gwendolen sat down together to eat.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-26388616841635212372011-10-13T03:28:00.000-07:002011-10-13T03:41:58.739-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne Maclean<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a> <br />
<a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html"><em>Chapter One</em></a><br />
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<em> </em><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julliane.html"><em>Chapter Two</em></a><br />
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Chapter Three <br />
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The instant the door slammed shut behind Gwendolen and the key turned in the lock, she squeezed her eyes shut. She had to fight against the overwhelming urge to scream her lungs out and pound her fists up against the door. She felt desperate enough to do it, but alas, she had never been the type of woman who succumbed to temper tantrums. They accomplished nothing.<br />
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Besides, Angus the Lion hardly struck her as the sort of man who would be moved by such childish displays. In fact, she doubted he would be moved by much of anything, for his heart seemed forged of steel. There was nothing gentle about him, nothing whatsoever. She had not recognized a single breath of tenderness or compassion in his character. He had treated her like an object. He expected her to fear and obey him, and he made it clear that if she did not, he would use her body to teach her lessons about insubordination. He also intended to use her to breed a child for political purposes and perhaps to satisfy his savage lust.<br />
Lifting her eyes, she looked around her father's private chamber. No one had made use of the room since his passing, but Gwendolen had nevertheless instructed the servants to come in and dust once a week, and change the bed linens, for she'd wanted the room prepared at all times for her brother's return. Now it seemed she'd had it prepared instead for her enemy. And for her own deflowering.<br />
She crossed to the bed, where sunshine beamed in through the leaded windows and cast bright squares of light on the crimson coverings. The book her father had been reading lay open on the table beside the lamp. No one had touched the book, nor had anyone moved his shoes, which remained exactly where he'd left them, beside the bed, on the night he died. <br />
Gwendolen looked down at them. They were well worn and formed to the shape of his feet.<br />
What was it about a man's shoes that made it seem as if he were still alive in the world, and would eventually come home? They were concrete evidence of his existence, she supposed a part of his physical being. They reminded her of his courage and strength.<br />
She knelt down and ran a finger over one of the leather toes and resolved that she, too, would continue to be brave. No matter what happened, no matter what her conqueror did to her, she would not fall apart. She would not succumb to the power he'd wielded over her in the hall just now, when he'd sealed their bargain with a kiss. She had been caught off guard, that was all, and it would not happen again. Next time she would be prepared for his touch, and the sensations it aroused, and would not become spellbound. Let him come now, and she would fulfill her part of the bargain with courage, dignity, and decorum.<br />
Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and a key turned in the lock. Her conqueror entered the room, and she suddenly found herself wishing that destiny was not paying such close attention to her lofty aspirations.<br />
<br />
She rose to her feet.<br />
<br />
"I told you to wait for me in bed." He gestured toward her with a hand. "Yet, here you stand before me doing the opposite. Are you simpleminded, lass? Or just inept when it comes to following orders?"<br />
"I am the daughter of a great laird, not one of your minions."<br />
"But you are soon to be my wife."<br />
"Soon, perhaps," she replied. "But we are not yet married, nor will we ever be, if you continue to behave like a savage."<br />
With a steely note of warning in his eyes, he watched her move farther away from the bed. "Did you not learn anything in the hall just now? I won't be pushed, nor will I tolerate a disobedient wife."<br />
"And what are you going to do with me if I defy you? Beat me? Kill me? That won't get you the child you want<br />
He regarded her with increasing interest. "There are a dozen ways I could have you on your back in an instant, lass, whether we're married or not, and none of them will be gentle or chivalrous so I suggest you mind that sharp tongue of yours."<br />
She turned to the window, feeling desperate again. "Haven't you had enough violence for one day? Besides, wouldn't it be more pleasant for you if I were willing, and eager?"<br />
God help her, she was scraping the bottom of the barrel now.<br />
He strode forward, slowly. <br />
"Now that sounds intriguing. How eager would you be? Give me an example."<br />
He was too clever, too intuitive, for he must have known she didn't have the slightest clue how to convey "eagerness" once he began the dreaded deflowering. The question knocked her off balance completely.<br />
"Come now," he said. "Don't be shy. How eager will you be when I begin to unlace you?"<br />
<br />
She wet her lips and felt her insides begin to tremble again. "That depends on how merciful you are."<br />
She was rather proud of that shrewd deflection of the question.<br />
<br />
"And how gifted an actress you are." He strode closer, his heavy broadsword bouncing lightly against his hip, and she had to steel herself against the daunting impact of his approach. He was tall and mighty, and the perfection of his golden features had a way of distracting her from his more degenerate intentions. She found herself gaping up at those soft full lips and intense blue eyes, and wondering how such perfection was even possible in the human form villainous or otherwise.<br />
"I'll be frank with you," he said, touching her cheek with the back of a finger. "Merciful or not, I'll be having you in my bed, so you may as well part with any foolish hopes that I'll be easily manipulated or deterred by your precious innocence, or your feminine charms, bountiful as they may be. I won't be sympathetic to any begging or pleading, either. You'll not weaken or outwit me, nor will you soften my heart with these futile attempts at distraction. There's not really much of a heart there to work with, you see, so don't bother to waste your time. Just submit, and accept that this is the way things are. I'll not be rough or cruel to you as long as you remember not to cross me and you may even find you enjoy certain things."<br />
"Certain things? Like what, precisely? Your knife at my throat each night?"<br />
Something flickered in his eyes something she had not seen before and she wondered if he was amused.<br />
<br />
"That's a bit dramatic," he said. "I think you might be making too much of my weapons. But don't be troubled, lass. I'll put them away when I make love to you."<br />
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"Make love? Is that what we're going to call it?"<br />
"Would you prefer I use another turn of phrase? I'd be more than happy to, though you don't strike me as the type who likes to say 'shag' or 'f"<br />
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"Enough! Please!" She backed away, and stumbled over her feet. "Let's just not... Let's not call it anything. I'd prefer not to speak of it at all."<br />
His eyes glimmered with renewed interest as he followed her across the room. "Why not?"<br />
"Because there's no way to speak about it without being lewd or vulgar." <br />
He strolled toward the bed in a predatory swagger, and leaned a broad shoulder against the bedpost. "I beg to differ. Some men can be anything but vulgar when seducing a comely lass like you. I'm not one of them, but if you like, I could try to romance you with a sonnet."<br />
"Now you're mocking me."<br />
"Aye." His eyes were cold and forbidding. "I told you before, I'm not the romantic sort."<br />
She lifted her chin. "As if you would know a sonnet, anyway."<br />
"Mm, you're right. On top of everything else, I'm an illiterate brute. All I know how to do is conquer. And plunder, plunder, plunder."<br />
Her vision began to blur as he strode toward her. She backed up and said, "If I could, I would summon my father from the grave to run you through. And he would do it, too. This was his bedchamber, you know, and he was a great warrior."<br />
The closer he got, the more desperate she became.<br />
"I'm sure he was, and I admire your devotion to him, lass, but it's discipline that wins the day, not ghosts."<br />
"And how do you plan to discipline me? Will you throw me onto the bed like the wild, savage beast that you are, and ravish me against my will?"<br />
"Are you trying to get me excited?"<br />
She sucked in a breath. "Or will you beat me, and keep me locked up forever?"<br />
He backed her up against the wall and let his hungry gaze travel from the top of her head, slowly, all the way down to her toes. "Neither holds much appeal to me at the moment. I've had enough fighting for one day. All I want is your soft naked body under my own, and I'm surprised we're still standing here discussing it. You ought to be proud of yourself, lass, for causing such a delay."<br />
Her hands tightened into fists. "Why don't you find yourself another woman to satisfy your lust? I am not willing."<br />
"You're a bit of a shrew, aren't you?"<br />
His lips brushed over her cheek. He was so close, she could smell the masculine fragrance of his skin.<br />
"If it displeases you, then yes, I am."<br />
Without the slightest warning, he scooped her up into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could utter a single word of outrage, he was on top of her, pressing her into the feathery softness of the mattress so deep, she thought she'd never find her way out.<br />
"Maybe I should just take you now and complete the invasion," he said in a low voice as he slid his hand up under her skirts to caress her thigh. "Why wait for our wedding night?"<br />
"But we had an agreement. In the hall... You promised..."<br />
"Maybe I was just toying with you." He brushed his nose over the tip of hers, then across her cheek to her ear, while his broad palm slid under her backside and pulled her hips tight up against him.<br />
Gwendolen remembered her earlier vow to be brave, no matter what he did to her, and tried to focus on some dignified response to this sudden brutish pillaging of her innocence."I may be forced to submit my body to you," she said, "but I will never submit my soul."<br />
He laughed in her ear. "Enough with the theatricals, lass. Do you know how comical you are? It's like something out of a bad play. What have you been reading lately?"<br />
She was both infuriated and mortified. Every part of her body seemed to be throbbing and flaming with unbidden heat, and she felt completely exposed. "It was not my intention to provide you with entertainment."<br />
"And yet, I am spellbound. If I didn't have to hold you down, I'd be applauding your performance, and throwing roses up onto your stage."<br />
His mouth found hers, and the intimacy of the connection was too much for her to take. Her lips, burning and aching, soon gave way to his plunging advance and softened to the irresistible stroke of his tongue.<br />
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Oh, how would she ever navigate her way through this sacrifice?<br />
<br />
Although "sacrifice" was becoming less and less the proper word to describe what was happening here, for she was floating away rather quickly on an intoxicating haze of sensation.<br />
<br />
He laid soft, wet kisses across her eyelids and along her forehead, and inched his body upward, thrusting against her with smooth, gentle undulations that reminded her of the sea. A moment later, the kisses found their way to the sensitive, tingling flesh at her neck. His tongue pushed into the hollow of her throat.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen focused on her breathing, working hard to remain resistant or at least give the appearance of indifference.<br />
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She looked up at the crimson canopy overhead and chastised herself for this swift surrender, when she had been so determined to fight and die an honorable death today, alongside her clansmen who had battled so valiantly. Instead, she was melting like warm sugar cake in her conqueror's arms.<br />
<br />
She told herself that it was only because she had never been kissed before today, and she lacked the experience necessary to use sex for power, as her mother would have done quite effectively had she been here in Gwendolen's place. <br />
On the other hand, she had a feeling that her mother might have fared no better. She would probably be melting like warm sugar cake, too.<br />
All at once, Onora's face flashed in Gwendolen's eyes. "Please, I must ask you one thing," she said breathlessly. "Is my mother safe? Tell me you have not harmed her." <br />
Angus kissed the side of her neck and thrust his hips. <br />
"How badly do you want to know?" <br />
"Badly," she replied. "I promise, if you tell me that she is alive and well, I will not cross you again. I will do whatever you ask." <br />
A smug grin graced his lips as he kissed the edges of her neckline. "Ah, lassie you've shown me twice today that you have a very soft and pretty Achilles' heel. Just the sort of thing a ruthless warrior looks for in a situation like this. A chink in the armor, a crack in the gate..." <br />
"What are you saying?"<br />
<br />
His lips brushed over hers. "You make it almost too easy. You're taking all the fun out of it."<br />
"Fun for you, perhaps. Not for me". <br />
<br />
The Lion rose up on both arms and looked down at her in the shimmering morning light that was streaming in through the windows.<br />
"You and your precious, holy virtue," he said. "You really ought to give it up."<br />
Gwendolen struggled to think straight."Wait... What do you mean, a chink in my armor?"<br />
He kissed her on the mouth again, and never had she imagined a man's lips and body could evoke such delirious sensation. It was like drinking liquid fire, or falling from a cloud.<br />
"What did you mean?" she repeated, and he rolled to the side.<br />
He rested his cheek on a hand, and his eyes chilled over with frost. "What I was trying to say, lassie, is that if you cross me one more time, it's not you I'll be locking up. It will be your beloved mother."<br />
"I beg your pardon?"<br />
He spoke with malice. "You're too easy to read, and far too self-sacrificing. I believe you would have died for your clan if I'd pushed you too far in the hall. And look at you now, playing the part of a willing bed partner, opening to me like a soft spring blossom, when we both know you'd rather shoot me dead than let me slide my hand up under your skirts."<br />
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"No," she replied ridiculously, "that's not entirely true."<br />
<br />
He slid off the bed and tucked his shirt back into his kilt, then pulled the knife from his boot and pointed the sharp blade at her. <br />
"We had an agreement," he said, "and I'll honor my word. I'll not claim your virginity until we are wed, and your mother will have her jewels and sit at our table. I'll give equal rights to all MacEwens who pledge allegiance to me tonight, as long as you hold true to your end of the bargain."<br />
Gwendolen leaned up on both elbows and struggled to control the ragged pace of her breathing. "And what did I promise... exactly?"<br />
<br />
Lord help her, she couldn't remember. Her brain was addled. Her thoughts had been stomped on, like grapes to wine. She felt completely inebriated.<br />
"You gave me your word that you would be amiable toward me from this day forward. You will not defy me, nor will you resist or dispute my authority over Kinloch. You will support my rule, both publicly and privately. And when your brother returns, your loyalty will rest with me, as your husband. Not him."<br />
And this meant he would not bed her? He would not force himself upon her? It was the only condition she seemed able to focus upon.<br />
"Are we agreed?" he asked.<br />
She quickly nodded.<br />
<br />
"Good. Obedient at last. Now get your skinny bones out of that bed, woman. You're needed in the bailey. There are wounded men to attend to." With that he turned and walked out the door.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen sank back down onto the bed and exhaled sharply. He had read her like a book just now, and used all her fears and weaknesses against her. Clearly, he was not an ignorant brute. He was clever and cunning, and had a quick mind for strategic warfare, even in the bedroom.<br />
But she, too, was an intelligent woman. Her father, God rest his soul, had encouraged her to use her brain. She would therefore spend the rest of the day thinking about what he had shown her. He, too, would be a book she would read and by tonight, she would have him deciphered and decoded, and then she would begin her own strategic battle for survival.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-70133548128241602152011-10-12T08:57:00.000-07:002011-10-13T03:43:18.865-07:00Claimed by the Highlander by Julliane Maclean<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s320/0312365322.jpg" width="198" /></a></div> <br />
<em><span style="color: #666666;"> </span></em><a href="http://romanceofalovestory.blogspot.com/2011/10/claimed-by-highlander-by-julianne.html"><em><span style="color: #666666;">Chapter One</span></em></a><br />
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Chapter Two<br />
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Standing on blood-soaked ground, Angus watched as his enemy's daughter disappeared into the East Tower. The instant she was gone, he cupped his shoulder with one hand and tried to roll out the pain, but realized it was worse than he thought. He grimaced, then shoved hard and fast with the heel of his palm to jostle the joint back into place. Slowly, he walked to the other side of the bailey, where he took a moment to recover.<br />
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It had been a hard battle. His clothes were stained with dirt, sweat, and blood some of it his own but it had all been worth it, for this was his home. <br />
His castle. The MacEwens had no right to it.<br />
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And his father was dead.<br />
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He turned and faced the carnage, and felt the renewed arousal of his fighting spirit as he recalled the courageous lass who had raised her voice and interrupted his moment of triumph. She was a dark and radiant beauty, which somehow added fuel to the fires of his antagonism. He did not want a beautiful wife, and he hadn't even given a single passing thought to what the daughter of his enemy might look like. Her comeliness or lack of it-was of no concern to him. She was an instrument, nothing more, which was precisely why her beauty and bold conduct had lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.<br />
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Angus rolled his shoulder again to work out the pain, and resolved to forget her, for now. He would not let her spoil this moment. He had come too far not to savor this victory.<br />
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With a passionate cry of triumph that echoed off the castle walls and roused the attention of his men, he unsheathed his sword and thrust it into the ground. Then he lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head on the shiny basket hilt.<br />
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Relief flooded through him, though it was tainted with grief. His father had been dead for two years, and Angus had not known until these past months. In the meantime, Kinloch had fallen into enemy hands, and his clan had been absorbed into another.<br />
He had waited too long to return.<br />
His cousin Lachlan came to stand beside him. "It doesn't seem right," he said, thrusting his sword into the dirt as well.<br />
Angus looked up. "Which part?"<br />
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"The part where a man must raise an army to invade his own home."<br />
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Angus rose to his full height and regarded the cousin and friend who had spent the better part of two years searching for him, found him on the outer fringes of the Western Isles, and helped him to raise an army and fight for what was theirs.<br />
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"Perhaps it's destiny," he replied, "for surely I can have no greater purpose than this. I have drawn my sword on behalf of my home, my clan, and my beloved Kinloch. Perhaps this is to be my redemption, a chance to make up for past sins."<br />
He turned his eyes toward the shattered castle gate, then to all the casualties that littered the ground. There had been terrible losses on both sides.<br />
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"And what of the dead?" Lachlan asked, taking in the wretched sight of the fallen warriors.<br />
"We will honor them. The MacEwens fought bravely." He inclined his head at Lachlan. "A testament to their leader, perhaps?"<br />
"Aye, she was something of a fireball and a bonnie vision, besides" Lachlan's dark eyes narrowed questioningly. "Think you'll be able to manage her?"<br />
"Do you doubt me, Lachlan?"<br />
"You just took her home and destroyed half her clan. I doubt she'll be overjoyed to share a bed with you."<br />
Angus wrenched his sword out of the dirt and slid it into his scabbard. "I don't care how she feels." He had no patience for emotional women, and this was certainly no love story. She knew that as well as he did. "Her father stole Kinloch from us. She will settle that debt." He started toward the Great Hall.<br />
Lachlan pulled a flask out of his sporran and took a drink. "I shouldn't have to tell you to watch your back," he said. "Her saber may have been small, but it had a sharp point."<br />
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Angus heard the warning, but gave no reply.<br />
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***<br />
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Gwendolen entered her bedchamber and found her mother waiting anxiously at the window.<br />
"Oh, my darling," Onora said, "thank heavens you're alive. I expected the worst. What has happened?"<br />
Gwendolen shut the door behind her and spoke plainly. "The MacDonalds have broken through the main gate. There was a battle, and they have taken the castle. Angus the Lion has declared himself chief, and he means to claim me as his wife in order to produce an heir, and unite our two clans." She was surprised by how calmly she could explain everything, when her insides were careening with dread.<br />
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Her mother stared blankly at her for a moment, then laughed aloud. "He means to <br />
claim you? Good God, does he not realize what century this is?"<br />
"Clearly not." Gwendolen paused. "You should see him, Mother. All the stories about him are true. He is exactly what they say mighty, violent, and fearsome. I was frozen with astonishment as I watched him exchange blows with our strongest, most skilled warriors, and I could not breathe when he spoke."<br />
<br />
Her mother strode forward, fascinated. "So it's true then. He is fierce, and unconquerable?"<br />
"Very much so."<br />
"And he intends to take you as his wife?"<br />
"Aye. I am not sure what to do."<br />
Onora threw her hands up."Are you daft, Gwendolen? You will accept him, of course. What other choice is there?" She turned toward the looking glass, pinched her cheeks for color, and ran her fingers through her long, curly locks of auburn hair. For a woman of her age, she was remarkably beautiful. Her lips were full, her cheekbones finely sculpted, her figure slender and trim. "This is very good news," she said. "I must say, I am greatly relieved."<br />
"Relieved? How can you possibly be relieved?"<br />
Onora turned."Don't be such an idealist. There is no way out of this. The Lion has taken the castle, and we are at his mercy. He could kill us both, but he is willing to spare you at least, and not only that, he wants to wed you. What more could you ask? Your position here will not change. In fact, it will improve. Mine, however..." She paused and returned her attention to the looking glass. "That is yet to be determined." She wet her lips and puckered them."But do not worry for me. I will negotiate for my own life and position."<br />
Gwendolen laughed bitterly. <br />
Negotiate. That is exactly what I must do a few short minutes from now. But with what, I ask you? As you said, we are at his mercy. We have no power. He has declared himself chief and has terrorized every warrior who still breathes. Those who would not surrender are dead."<br />
Onora faced Gwendolen with fire in her eyes. "Which is why you are going to submit to him. In every way."<br />
"Submit..."<br />
<br />
"Aye." Her mother took hold of her wrist. "You are going to do exactly what he tells you to do, Gwendolen, and if you have any sense in that pretty little head of yours, you'll act like you enjoy it."<br />
Gwendolen ripped her arm away. "Why don't you submit to him, Mother? If anyone knows how to please a man in bed, it's you, not me."<br />
"I assure you, I would submit in an instant if I was the one he wanted. But he wants <br />
you, which is exactly what he shall have, or we'll both be dead. Now listen to what I say. You must be docile and agreeable. And for heaven's sake, make yourself more presentable. Put on a prettier gown." She reached out to untie the laces of Gwendolen's stays. "He has offered you a gift a chance to preserve our status here. You must thank him, and lure him to your bed."<br />
"Lure him to my bed?" Gwendolen shoved her mother's hands away. "He has laid siege to our home. I will not simply lie back and wait for him to lay siege to my body, as well. I will go to the hall and meet him there, with dignity, as Father would have done."<br />
"And say what?"<br />
"I will negotiate the terms of our surrender."<br />
<br />
Onora scoffed."You are forgetting that we have already been defeated. Surrender is no longer an option. He will laugh at you."<br />
Gwendolen backed away, then realized that she did, in fact, have some power.<br />
"That is where you are wrong, Mother. He wants something from me-a child-and I shall inform him that .<br />
I will not be conquered quite so easily as this castle. More importantly, if I can buy us time, there is a chance that Murdoch will return and restore our freedom."<br />
"Gwendolen!"<br />
<br />
Heart beating erratically in her chest, she walked out and shut the door behind her, then quickly made her way down the curved staircase, ignoring her mother's outraged calls, which echoed through the vaulted stone passageways.<br />
As she approached the hall, her stomach turned somersaults. She was about to confront and challenge a ruthless, battle-seasoned warrior, who thought nothing of ramming through castle gates and slaughtering entire armies before breakfast.<br />
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Physically, she was no match for him. That was certain. He was mighty and strapping, and he could slaughter her too in a single heartbeat, if he was so inclined. But no matter what happened, she would not show her fear. She was the daughter of a Highland chief, and she had the allegiance of her people. She would face him on equal ground.<br />
Thankfully, the hall was empty when she arrived, which awarded her a few minutes to collect her thoughts and decide how, exactly, she was going to address Angus Bradach MacDonald. She paused just inside the arched entry, behind the dais, and turned her eyes to the impressive display of MacEwen heraldry. Heavy silk tapestries draped the walls, flags and banners hung from the rafters, and their family crest had recently been carved into the stonework.<br />
She glanced toward the heavy chair that her father had occupied until recently. When he had presided over this hall, feasts and celebrations were the order of the day. Laughter, music, and poetry filled the nights with culture and amusement. There was no threat of war or tyranny. He was a good man, a strong and fair leader, but all of that would soon change if she did not stand up to this new conqueror. Tonight, there would be subjugation, forced oaths, and peril for those who refused to submit.<br />
Unless, of course, she could exert some influence, however small...<br />
She stepped up onto the dais and approached the empty chair. <br />
Help me to be brave, Father, for I wish to do my duty for the MacEwens.<br />
Her prayer was interrupted, unfortunately, by the sound of footsteps entering from the bailey. Gwendolen glanced up. Her pulse quickened as she beheld her enemy, Angus the Lion, at the far end of the hall.<br />
Not yet aware of her presence, he paused just inside. He looked up at the highest peaks of the ceiling, then his cool gaze moved along the string of MacEwen banners, hung from the wide wooden beams.<br />
Gwendolen observed the finer details of his appearance the dark kilt and tartan draped over his shoulder and pinned with a heavy silver brooch that had been polished to a brilliant sheen. He was an enormous man. That much she already knew. But up close, she could see that his hands were large, as well, which was especially distressing, to say nothing of the weapons he carried. In addition to the shield on his back and the heavy claymore belted at his waist, two pistols were tucked into the belt, and a powder horn was slung across his chest. A dirk was sheathed in his boot.<br />
She looked more closely at his face, and felt rather anxious.<br />
<br />
It was a face both rugged and beautiful flawlessly proportioned, with a full sensuous mouth and a fine, patrician nose. His eyes were pale blue, as clear as ice on a winter lake, and yet they smoldered with fire. A curious commotion began inside her an unusual trepidation, a shiver of heat that spread to her toes. She had to work hard to control it.<br />
The great Lion studied the tapestries, the walls, and even the stones in the hearth, then his big hand went to the hilt of his broadsword, and his eyes narrowed in on her.<br />
Before today, Gwendolen had not known what it felt like to be held in the gaze of a man so breathtaking. She had to focus on her sense of balance in order to remain upright on her feet.<br />
Angus, on the other hand, appeared wholly relaxed, though there was something intense and frightening about the way he looked at her. A lingering bloodlust from battle still coursed through his body, no doubt.<br />
If she was going to get through this, she would have to remember that he wanted something from her. She was not entirely without power.<br />
His hand still resting on the hilt of his sword, he crossed the length of the hall with menacing determination. Her heart galloped inside her chest. By the time he reached the dais, she was feeling the same wild and reckless exhilaration she had felt on the rooftop when she challenged him with her small sword, and declared herself brave enough to fight him.<br />
"Get down off there," he said.<br />
"Why? So you can look down on me?"<br />
"Aye. Your family stole my home. You are thieves. The whole lot of you."<br />
Her body raged, and she worried suddenly that she might faint from all the mayhem.<br />
"You look pale, lassie. Are you ill?"<br />
<br />
"No. I am fine," she told him, until she thought better of it. "I beg your pardon. I wish to retract that. I am not fine. I am disgusted."<br />
He took a step forward and scoffed. "Disgusted? By me?"<br />
"Aye. Did you expect otherwise?"<br />
<br />
He stared at her with threatening resolve. "It's not the response I was anticipating, but it matters not. This castle is mine now. I've claimed you as my wife. Those are the facts."<br />
She inhaled slowly in order to gather her wits about her. He was disturbingly succinct and to the point, with no consideration for politeness.<br />
"And what am I supposed to do with those facts?" she asked. "Call everyone in and prance about the hall with delight?"<br />
"Nay, there won't be any public prancing, lassie. Whether you like it or not, I'll be having you in my bed tonight and that we'll do in private."<br />
<br />
She took a deep breath, working hard to calm her rising hostility. "So soon?''<br />
<br />
"Not soon enough, if you must know. I didn't expect to be wedding such a beauty.''<br />
<br />
Gwendolen laughed. "You think to get what you want by flattering me?"<br />
The corner of his mouth curled up into a sinister grin. "I already got what I wanted, lass. Don't need to flatter anyone."<br />
And what was it, exactly, that you wanted?"<br />
"Was it not obvious when I broke down the castle gate? I wanted Kinloch, and now I have it."<br />
She swallowed hard. "Of course you do."<br />
Neither of them said anything for a moment or two. Gwendolen was fighting to maintain a semblance of composure and dignity, while he seemed quite unabashedly distracted by the curve of her breasts and hips.<br />
<br />
"Did I not ask you to get down off there?" he repeated, while tilting his head to the side. "Or do I need to come up and haul you down like a sack of turnips? I'll oblige you, if that's what you wish, but I'm weary from battle and in no mood for hauling vegetables. So get down off there, woman. Don't make me tell you again."<br />
Gwendolen took careful note of the threatening message of command in his voice, and approached the edge of the dais. She stepped down, squared her shoulders, and stared up at him. He looked her over from head to foot, then leaped up onto the dais and strolled from one side to the other, as if he were taking measurements.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen remained silent while he seated himself in her father's chair and lounged back comfortably, his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him. "Home at last," he said.<br />
Again, he looked up at the MacEwen heraldry. He sat without speaking, and she knew he was pondering the future. Or perhaps recalling the past.<br />
She watched his face for some insight into his mood and intentions. Sitting there like a sprawling lion, he appeared in absolute control, with no doubt whatsoever in his mind that he was now Laird of Kinloch, and she was to be his obedient wife and servant.<br />
He was in for a rude awakening.<br />
"Where is your brother, Murdoch?" he asked. "Why is he not here to defend Kinloch and protect his people?"<br />
"He traveled abroad to visit Rome and educate himself. He believed a strong leader should be enlightened and knowledgeable about the world-an aspiration which I doubt you would understand. He left before my father died."<br />
"But with your father's death, why has he not returned?"<br />
She regarded Angus with steady eyes. "I am not certain he knows of it. We have dispatched a letter to him, of course, but have no way of knowing if he has received it. I am hopeful, however, that he will return any day. Perhaps unexpectedly."<br />
<br />
It was an intentional strike at the Lion's arrogance. She wished him to know that his victory this morning may have seemed effortless, but the MacEwens would not continue to be easy prey. He should be on his guard.<br />
Angus rested an elbow on the arm of the chair."Will he be difficult?"<br />
"I hope so."<br />
He studied her with careful scrutiny. "I suppose the real question is whether or not <br />
you will be difficult."<br />
"Oh, definitely.''<br />
His brow furrowed with displeasure, and she regretted the brash reply, when she had come here to negotiate in a civilized manner. She half expected him to rise up out of the chair and show her the back of his hand. He continued, however, to sit calmly, relaxed, but with a focused expression that made her feel as if she were standing before him naked. Her cheeks flushed with heat.<br />
"Do you understand, lass, that I have already claimed you as my wife?''<br />
"I heard as much when you shouted my marriage proposal from the rooftops, instead of asking me directly.''<br />
<br />
He cocked his head to the side. "Do you wish me to get down on bended knee?''<br />
"Not particularly.<br />
He nodded, as if he were reaching a number of conclusions about her character and temperament in these moments, based on her replies.<br />
He sat back. "Good, because I'm not the romantic sort.''<br />
"You don't say. I am astonished."<br />
<br />
There was a fluttering in the rafters above, and his eyes lifted. He caught sight of the tiny bird that had been nesting in the hall for as long as she could remember. It flew out the open arched doorway to the bailey.<br />
"No one has been able to get rid of that bird," she told him. "Maybe you'll have better luck. Or maybe the poor defenseless creature has just realized what calamity has befallen her home, and has finally flown the coop.''<br />
"We'll see," he replied, rising to his feet, as if he had grown bored of the conversation and had much more important matters to attend to.<br />
<br />
She hastened to step forward before he could dismiss her. "All that aside," she blurted out, "I would like to negotiate the terms of my surrender."<br />
His eyes settled upon her again and he spoke in a patronizing tone. "Your surrender..."<br />
"Aye. I told you I would resist you, and I will, in every sense of the word, unless this situation can be resolved to my liking."<br />
<br />
For a long moment he stared at her, as if he could barely comprehend what he'd just heard. A dark scowl passed across his features, and yet there was something else... Was it possible that he was enjoying her insolence?<br />
"To our liking," he repeated.<br />
"Aye."<br />
A muscle clenched in his jaw, and any hint of interest vanished, as she realized she had struck a very bad note. It was obvious from the rising tide of fury in his eyes that he was not accustomed to hearing such demands from people, much less a woman he had just claimed as his possession. He was used to being feared.<br />
He stepped down from the dais and approached her. She took a step back. It was one thing to speak to a conquering warlord seated in a chair, ten feet away. It was quite another to be standing at eye level with his chest so close, she could see the bloodstains in the individual fibers of his shirt, and smell the fresh aroma of his sweat.<br />
Slowly, carefully, she lifted her eyes.<br />
He was glaring down at her with blistering antagonism. 'II hear your terms now," he said.<br />
Thankful that his sword was still sheathed in the scabbard and she was still in possession of her head, Gwendolen cleared her throat. "I want you to honor the conditions you offered just now to the people of my clan, but I have something else to add."<br />
"Speak, then."<br />
She wet her dry lips. "Those who must forfeit their homes, but choose to stay and pledge allegiance to you, will be given compensation from the Kinloch treasury. I understand that there will be no compensation given to those who leave, but I must be assured that if that is what they choose, they will be permitted to leave freely, without fear of death or retaliation by your warriors."<br />
"Agreed," he replied.<br />
<br />
Surprised by the swiftness and ease with which he accepted her first request, she nevertheless proceeded with caution."I petition also that my mother will be treated with the appropriate respect due to her, as the widow of a past Laird of Kinloch. She will keep her apartments and jewels, and she will sit at our table."<br />
<br />
"Agreed," he said. "Anything else?''<br />
<br />
She swallowed thickly. "All members of the MacEwen clan will have rights equal to the MacDonalds in all matters.<br />
<br />
He thought about that one for a moment. "If they pledge their allegiance to me tonight, I give you my word that they will have equal rights.''<br />
She realized suddenly that she was perspiring, and wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead.<br />
"Lastly, in regard to our marital union..." All at once, her belly swarmed with butterflies, and she had to swallow hard to keep her voice steady. "I request that you do not claim your husbandly rights until our wedding night.''<br />
That one, oddly enough, was the only application that gave him pause and soon after, his eyes smoldered with rising sexuality. "Are you a virgin, lass?"<br />
"Of course," she replied incredulously.<br />
He studied her expression, then his gaze dipped lower. Time seemed to stand still as he lifted a hand and traced a slow finger along the line of her jaw, down the center of her throat to the valley of her cleavage, then along the breadth of her neckline from shoulder to shoulder, as if he were drawing a smile with his rough, callused fingertip.<br />
Gwendolen shivered, for no man had ever touched her like that before, and this man was far more intimidating than most. He slanted a seductive glance at her, and all her bravado from moments ago poured out of her like water. Her skin seemed to burn with fever under his fingertip, and it made her head swim in churning circles.<br />
She felt suddenly inept when it came to negotiating for anything. Perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps she should simply be thanking him.<br />
<br />
"That's a considerable demand, lass. I'd venture to call it impudent, and I've no interest in wedding a woman who doesn't know her place."<br />
"And what is my place, exactly?''<br />
"Your place will be in my bed. Pleasing me."<br />
She was having a devil of a time getting air in and out of her lungs. "I understand," she said shakily, "that if I am to be your wife, it will be my duty to provide you with an heir. I only ask that I have time to prepare myself for that... obligation.<br />
His eyes narrowed with dark, sensual resolve. "What's the point in putting off the inevitable? One way or another, you'll be on your back, and I'll be having my way with you. You might even find you enjoy it."<br />
"Enjoy it?" she scoffed. "I think not.''<br />
His gaze lingered on her lips, and her insides seemed to melt into a big warm puddle of sensation as he cupped the side of her face in his hand and let his fingers play in the wisps of hair over her ear. "Since we're negotiating the terms for your total and complete surrender to me," he said, 'll agree to your blushing request on two conditions."<br />
"I am listening." She struggled to banish the color from her cheeks.<br />
'll leave your sweet, luscious maidenhead intact, as long as you agree to be amiable toward me between now and then. Never again will you defy me in front of the clans like you did this morning, nor will you resist or dispute my authority over Kinloch. You will support my rule, both publicly and privately."<br />
Could she agree to that? she wondered uneasily.<br />
<br />
Yes. She would agree to anything, if it meant he would not touch her like this, or attempt to take her this very night. And perhaps, before that moment arrived, if she was blessed with good fortune or mercy from above, her brother would arrive and save her from that fate.<br />
"Fine. What is the second condition?" She worked hard to ignore the fact that his thumb was now gently brushing back and forth across her chin.<br />
"When your brother returns like a hero on his white steed "he said, as if he had read her mind "which I am certain he will, your allegiance will be with me, your husband, and you will not betray that vow."<br />
"But what will become of my brother? This castle is his birthright, too. You cannot simply expect him to"<br />
A flash of anger burned in the Lion's eyes. "It is not his birthright. It is mine. But your brother will have a choice. He can pledge an oath to me, and with that oath, he will be given land and a position of rank and stature. If he refuses, he will be free to leave."<br />
She paused, for she did not believe it. "Would you promise me would you give me your word of honor as a Scotsman that you will not kill him?"<br />
Angus stepped back. "Nay. For if he raises his sword against me, or any other MacDonald, I will slice him in half without hesitation."<br />
Gwendolen looked down at the floor. She did not doubt his word in that regard, and for the first time, a true feeling of defeat swept through her. He was a powerful foe, and she was out of her depth.<br />
"I will agree to those terms," she said, consoling herself with the fact that she had at least attained some compensation for her people. And the Lion would not attempt to bed her that night. Perhaps, with any luck, her brother would arrive soon with an army of redcoats, and drag this Jacobite rebel off to the gallows for treason. She would try to get word to Murdoch about the urgency of their predicament, and cling to the hope that even after the forfeiture of her innocence, the castle could still be reclaimed. All hope was not lost.<br />
It would be her sacrifice, she supposed. Her virtue in exchange for the eventual freedom of her clan.<br />
Gwendolen looked up and found herself gazing into the unyielding blue depths of his eyes.<br />
"Are we done now?" he asked. "Did you get what you wanted?"<br />
<br />
"Aye." But she felt completely unraveled.<br />
"Then seal the agreement. Prove to me that your word is true."<br />
"How?"<br />
The tone of his voice changed in that moment. He spoke in a low, husky whisper. "Pledge it with a kiss."<br />
Before she had a chance to object, he pressed his mouth to hers, and the floor seemed to shift under her feet. She had never been kissed before, not once in her life. She had lived a virtuous existence, determined to evolve into a woman very different from her mother, who used sex as an instrument of power over men.<br />
But this was not the same as that. Not at all. Gwendolen had no power here. She was completely beguiled and could do nothing but bend and soften to the strength of his will.<br />
He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, and her head tilted back under the pressure of the kiss so urgent and probing, it sent her body reeling. All at once, this artless, naive pledge of hers felt like a promise of profound physicality and commitment. He was demanding her complete surrender and capitulation, here in this room, by the joining of their mouths and bodies, and she had no idea what to do, but to respond.<br />
He tipped his head to the side and cupped the back of her neck with his hand, parting her lips and sliding his tongue inside to mingle damply with hers. The kiss drew out an involuntary whimper of submission.<br />
Then just as she was becoming acquainted with the sensation of their lips and tongues colliding gently he drew back from the kiss and ran a finger across her flushed cheek.<br />
"I believe you will enjoy it, lass," he said in a gruff voice, "when the time comes."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen's legs nearly buckled beneath her. "I most certainly will not."<br />
He turned away and started toward the bailey.<br />
"Wait!" she said.<br />
<br />
He stopped, but did not turn.<br />
<br />
"There is one more thing." Gwendolen strode forward tensely.<br />
He turned his head to the side.<br />
<br />
"I want my family's heraldry to remain here in the hall, beside yours."<br />
<br />
For the longest time, he stood with his back to her, refusing to speak. A knot of uncertainty tangled up inside her stomach.<br />
At last, he turned. "You were doing so well, lass. Why did you have to spoil it?"<br />
"Spoil what? I am only asking for what is rightfully ours. My father was granted possession of this castle by the King of Great Britain, and our name cannot simply be erased from its walls."<br />
Another warrior entered the hall. He, too, was imposing like Angus, but his hair was black as night, his eyes dark as sin. He stood just inside the door.<br />
Angus spoke over his shoulder. "Lachlan, come here and escort my future bride to my bedchamber. She needs to be taught a lesson or two about the rules of war and the meaning of surrender. Lock her in and put a guard at the door."<br />
<br />
"What?" Gwendolen's heart began to pitch and roll. "I thought we had an agreement."<br />
"We did, and I confess, I enjoyed the negotiations. But you shouldn't have stepped over the line, lass. I told you, I have no interest in wedding a woman who does not know her place. It's time you learned yours and understood the limits of my tolerance." He frowned at her. "I am not a kind man."<br />
"I didn't step over any line. I only asked for one more thing."<br />
"The negotiations were finished," he said. "That's the end of it. Now go with Lachlan, and wait for me in my bed."<br />
The other warrior strode across the hall and took hold of her arm. "Don't fight it, lass," he said. "You'll only make things worse for yourself."<br />
"How can it possibly get any worse than this?" she asked.<br />
<br />
He chuckled softly. "You don't know Angus."Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6721293225673226195.post-13651849493336794122011-10-12T06:39:00.000-07:002011-10-13T03:43:45.638-07:00Claimed by the Highlander By Julianne Maclean<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s1600/0312365322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CreQ0byIRT4/TpWwCzSLoHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_wwmt8D7xjM/s640/0312365322.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Chapter one<br />
<br />
<br />
Kinloch Castle<br />
<br />
Scottish Highlands, July 1718<br />
<br />
The dream startled her awake mere minutes before the siege began<br />
Gwendolen MacEwen sat up with a gasp and turned her eyes to the window. <br />
It was only a dream, she told herself as she struggled to calm her breathing. Later she would call it a premonition, but for now, she was certain it was just the trickeries of sleep causing this terror in her heart.<br />
Giving up any notion of slumber, she tossed the covers aside, sat up on the edge of the bed, and reached for her robe. She slipped it on for warmth against the predawn chill as she rose to her feet and padded to the window, lured to the leaded glass by a faint glow of light on the horizon.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
A new day had begun. At last. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that it would bring her brother, Murdoch, home from his travels. The MacEwens needed their chief, and if he did not soon return and claim his birthright, she feared someone else would for there had been some talk of discontent in the village. She'd heard it from her maid, whose sister was married to the alehouse keeper. And after the dream she'd just had...<br />
The horn blew suddenly in the bailey.<br />
Unaccustomed to hearing such a clamor while the castle still slept, Gwendolen turned from the window. <br />
What in God's name...?<br />
It blew again, a second time. Then a third.<br />
A spark of alarm fired her blood, for she knew the meaning of that signal. It was coming from the rooftop, and it spoke of danger.<br />
Gwendolen rushed to the door, flung it open, and hurried up the tower stairs.<br />
<br />
"What's happening?" she asked the guard, who was pacing back and forth through the early morning chill. She could see his ragged breath upon the air.<br />
<br />
He pointed. "Look there, Miss MacEwen!"<br />
She rose up on her toes and leaned out over the battlements, squinting through the dim morning light at the moving shadows in the field. It was an advancing army, approaching quickly from the edge of the forest. Some were on foot, others mounted.<br />
" she asked."Two hundred, at least," he replied. "Maybe more.<br />
She stepped away from the wall and regarded him soberly. "How much time do we have?"<br />
"Five minutes at best."<br />
She turned and locked eyes with another clansman, who exploded out of the tower staircase with a musket in his hands. He halted, panic-stricken, when he spotted her.<br />
"They came out of nowhere," he explained. <br />
"We're doomed for sure. Ye should escape, Miss MacEwen, <br />
before it's too late."<br />
Immediately incensed, Gwendolen strode forward, grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, and shook him roughly. <br />
"Repeat those words again, sir, and I will have your head!" She swung around to face the other clansman. "Go and alert the steward."<br />
"But"<br />
"Just do it!"<br />
They had no leader. Her father was dead, and their current laird of war was a drunkard who was not even within the castle walls, for he'd been spending his nights in the village since her father's passing. Her brother had not yet returned from the Continent. They had only their steward, Gordon MacEwen who was a brilliant manager of books and numbers, but no warrior.<br />
"Is your weapon loaded?" she asked the flustered clansman.<br />
"Do you have enough powder?"<br />
"Aye.''<br />
"Then take aim and defend the gate!''<br />
He hurried into position, while she looked out over the bailey below, where her clansmen were finally assembling in answer to the call. Torches had been lit, but everyone was shouting in confusion, asking too many questions.<br />
"MacEwens, hear me now!" she shouted. "An army is approaching from the east! We will soon be under attack! <br />
Arm yourselves and man the battlements!"<br />
Only in the hush of that moment, as all eyes turned toward her, did she realize that she was still wearing her dressing gown.<br />
"You there!" She pointed at a boy. "Arm yourself with a sword! Assemble all the women and children. Take them to the chapel, bar the doors, and stay with them until the battle is ended."<br />
The boy nodded bravely and dashed off to the armory.<br />
"They are MacDonalds!" a guard shouted from the opposite corner tower. It was Douglas MacEwen, a good friend and able swordsman.<br />
Gwendolen gathered her shift in her hands and ran to meet him. "Are you certain?"<br />
<br />
"Aye, look there." He pointed across the field, now shimmering with mist and morning dew. "They carry the banner of Angus the Lion."<br />
Gwendolen had heard tales of Angus MacDonald, for saken son of the fallen MacDonald chief, who had once been Laird of Kinloch. He had been a Jacobite traitor, however, which was why the King granted her father Letters of Fire and Sword, which had awarded him the right to take the castle in service to the Crown.<br />
There were whispers that Angus was the infamous Butcher of the Highlands a renegade Jacobite who hacked entire English armies to pieces with his legendary death axe.<br />
<br />
Others said he was nothing but a treacherous villain, who was banished to the north by his own father for some secret, unspeakable crime.<br />
Either way, he was reputed to be a fierce and ruthless warrior, faster and more ferocious than a phantom beast on the battlefield. Some even said he was invincible.<br />
This much was true at least: he was an expert swordsman, who showed no mercy to warriors and women alike.<br />
"What in God's name is that?" She leaned forward and squinted, as a terrible sense of foreboding poured through her.<br />
Douglas strained to see clearly through the mist, then his face went pale. "It's a catapult, and their horses are pulling a battering ram."<br />
She could hear the heavy, muted thunder of their approach, and her heart turned over in her chest.<br />
<br />
"You are in charge here until I return," she told him. "You must defend the gate, Douglas. At all costs."<br />
He nodded silently. She patted him on the arm with encouragement, then hurried back to the tower stairs. Seconds later, she was pushing through the door to her bedchamber. Her maid was waiting uneasily by the bed.<br />
Gwendolen spoke without flinch."We are under attack," she said. "There isn't much time. You must help gather the women and children, go straight to the chapel, and stay there until it is over."<br />
"Aye, Miss McEwen!" The maid hastened from the room.<br />
Closing the door behind her, Gwendolen quickly tore off her robe and dropped it, without a care, onto the braided rug. She hurried to the wardrobe to find clothes.<br />
Just then, a sudden, violent pounding began at her door, as if an animal were bucking up against it.<br />
"Gwendolen! Gwendolen! Are you awake?"<br />
She halted in her tracks. Oh, if only she were asleep, and this was still the dream, playing tricks on her mind. But the sound of alarm in her mother's voice quashed that possibility. She hurried to answer the door.<br />
"Come inside, Mother. We are under attack."<br />
"Are you certain?" Onora looked as if she had already taken the time to dress for the event. Her long curly hair was combed into a hasty but elegant twist, and she was wearing a crisp new gown of blue and white silk. "I heard the horn, but thought surely it must be a false alarm."<br />
"It isn't." Gwendolen returned to the wardrobe and pulled a skirt on over her shift. "The MacDonalds are storming the gates as we speak. There isn't much time. They have brought a catapult and battering ram."<br />
Onora swept into the room and shut the door behind her."How utterly medieval!"<br />
"Indeed. They are led by Angus the Lion." Glancing briefly at her mother with concern, Gwendolen hunted around for her shoes.<br />
"Angus the Lion? Forsaken son of the MacDonald chief? Oh, God help us all. If he is triumphant, you and I will be doomed."<br />
"Do not speak those words in my presence, Mother," Gwendolen replied. "They are not yet inside the castle walls. We can still keep them at bay."<br />
This was, after all, the mighty and formidable Kinloch Castle. Its walls were six feet thick and sixty feet high. Only a bird could reach the towers and battlements. They were surrounded by water, protected by a drawbridge and an iron portcullis. How could the MacDonalds possibly overtake such a stronghold?<br />
<br />
She longed suddenly for her brother Murdoch. Why wasn't he here? He should have come home the moment he learned of their father's death. Why had he stayed away so long, and left them here without protection.<br />
<br />
Her mother began to pace. "I always told your father he should have banished each and every member of that Jacobite clan when he claimed this castle for the MacEwens, but would he listen? No. He insisted on mercy and compassion, and look where it got us."<br />
Gwendolen pulled on her stays and her mother tied the laces. "I disagree. The MacDonalds who chose to remain here under Father's protection have been peaceful and loyal to us for two years. They adored Father. This cannot be their doing."<br />
<br />
"But have you not heard the ugly rumors in the village? The complaints about the rents, and that silly debacle over the beehive?"<br />
"Aye," Gwendolen replied, tying her hair back off her shoulders with a simple leather cord. "But it is only a small number who feel that way, and only because we have no chief to settle disputes. I am certain that when Murdoch returns, all will be well. Besides, those who chose to remain never supported the Jacobite cause to begin with. They do not want to participate in another rebellion. Kinloch is a Hanoverian house now."<br />
<br />
She got down on her knees and reached under the bed for the trunk. It scraped across the floor as she pulled it out.<br />
<br />
"No, I suppose it is not their doing," Onora said. "They are farmers and peasants. This is the vengeance of the warriors who would not take an oath of allegiance to your father when he proclaimed himself laird two years ago. That is what we are facing now. We should have known they would return to take back what was theirs."<br />
<br />
Gwendolen opened the trunk and withdrew a small saber, then rose to her feet and belted it around her waist. "Kinloch is not theirs <br />
now," she reminded her mother."It belongs to the MacEwens by order of the King. Anyone who claims otherwise is a traitor to England and in breach of the law. And surely the King will not allow this powerful Scottish bastion to fall into the hands of enemy Jacobites. We will soon have assistance, I am sure of it."<br />
<br />
Her mother shook her head."You are very naive, Gwendolen. No one will be coming to our aid, at least not in time to save us from having our throats slit by that savage rebel, Angus MacDonald."<br />
<br />
"Kinloch will not fall to them," Gwendolen insisted. "We will fight, and by God's grace, we will win."<br />
<br />
Her mother scoffed bitterly as she followed her to the door. "Don't be a fool! We are outnumbered and leaderless! We will have to surrender and plead for mercy. Although what good it will do, I cannot imagine. I am the wife and you are the daughter of the clansman who conquered this castle and slayed their chief. Mark my words, the first thing the Lion will do is take his vengeance out on <br />
us!"<br />
<br />
Gwendolen would not listen to any more of this. She moved quickly out of the chamber and into the corridor, where she paused to adjust her sword belt. "I am going to the armory to fetch a musket and powder," she explained. "And then I am going up to the battlements to fight for what is ours, in the name of the King. I will not let Father's greatest achievement die with him."<br />
<br />
"Are you mad?" Onora followed her to the stairs. "You are a woman! You cannot fight them! You must stay here, where it is safe. We will pray for our lives and think of a way to contend with those dirty MacDonalds when they break down your bedchamber door."<br />
Gwendolen paused. <br />
''You can stay here and pray, Mother, but I cannot simply sit here and wait for them to slit my throat. If I am going to die today, so be it, but I will not depart this life without a fight." She started down the curved staircase. "And with any luck, I will live long enough to shoot a musket ball straight through the black heart of Angus MacDonald himself. <br />
That you can pray for!"<br />
***<br />
<br />
By the time Gwendolen reached the battlements and took aim at the invaders on the drawbridge below, the iron-tipped battering ram was smashing the thick oak door to pieces. The castle walls shuddered beneath her feet, and she was forced to stop and take a moment to absorb what was happening.<br />
<br />
The frightful reality of battle struck her, and all at once, she felt dazed, as if she were staring into a churning abyss of noise and confusion. She couldn't move. Her fellow clansmen were shouting gruffly at each other. Smoke and the smell of gunpowder burned in her lungs and stung her eyes. One kilted warrior had dropped all his weapons beside her and was crouching by the wall, overcome by a fit of weeping.<br />
<br />
She stared down at him for a hazy moment, feeling nauseous and light-headed, as cracks of musketfire exploded all around her.<br />
"Get up!" she shouted, reaching down and hooking her arm under his. She hauled him to his feet."Reload your weapon, and use it to fight!"<br />
The young clansman stared at her blankly for a moment, then fumbled for his powder.<br />
<br />
Gwendolen leaned out over the battlements to see below. The MacDonalds were swarming through the broken gate, crawling like insects over the wooden ram. She quickly took aim and fired at one of them, but missed.<br />
"To the bailey!" she shouted, and the sound of dozens of swords scraping out of scabbards fueled her resolve. With steady hands and an unwavering spirit, she reloaded her musket. There was shouting and screaming, men running everywhere, flocking to the stairs...<br />
"Gwendolen!" Douglas called out, stopping beside her. "You should not be here! You must go below to your chamber and lock yourself in! Leave the fighting to the men!''<br />
"Nay, Douglas, I will fight and die for Kinloch if I must."<br />
He regarded her with both admiration and regret, and spoke in a gentler voice. "At least do your fighting from the rooftop, lassie. The clan will not survive the loss of you."<br />
His meaning was clear, and she knew he was right. She was the daughter of the MacEwen chief. She must remain alive to negotiate terms of surrender, if it came to that.<br />
Gwendolen nodded."Be gone, Douglas. Leave me here to reload my weapon. This is a good spot. I will do what I can from here."<br />
<br />
He kissed her on the cheek, wished her luck, and bolted for the stairs.<br />
Hand-to-hand combat began immediately in the bailey below. There was a dreadful roar close to four hundred men all shouting at once and the deafening clang of steel against steel rang in her ears as she fired and reloaded her musket, over and over. Before long, she had to stop, for the two clans had merged into one screaming cataclysm of carnage, and she could not risk shooting any of her own men.<br />
The chapel bell tolled, calling the villagers to come quickly and assist in the fight, but even if every able-bodied man arrived at that moment, it would not be enough. These MacDonald warriors were rough and battle seasoned, armed with spears, muskets, axes, bows and arrows. They were quickly seizing control, and she could do nothing from where she stood, for if she went below, it would be suicide, and she had to live for her clan.<br />
Then she spotted him. Their leader. Angus the Lion, fighting in the center of it all.<br />
<br />
She quickly loaded her musket and aimed, but he moved too quickly. She could not get a clear shot.<br />
A scorching ball of terror shot into her belly as she lowered her weapon. No wonder they called him the Lion. His hair was a thick, tawny mane that reached past his broad shoulders, and he roared with every deadly swing of his claymore, which sliced effortlessly through the air before cutting down foe after foe after foe.<br />
Gwendolen stood transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from the sheer muscled brawn of his arms, chest, and legs legs thick as tree trunks, just like the battering ram on the bridge. There was a perfect, lethal symmetry and balance to his movements as he lunged and killed, then flicked the sweat-drenched hair from his eyes, spun around and killed again.<br />
Her heart pounded with fascination and awe. He was a powerful beast of a man, a super warrior, magnificent in every way, and the mere sight of him in battle, in all his legendary glory, nearly brought her to her knees. He deflected every blow with his sturdy black shield, and swung the claymore with exquisite grace. She had never encountered such a man before, nor imagined such strength was possible in the human form.<br />
<br />
She realized suddenly that her mother had been correct in her predictions. There was no possibility of defeating this man. They were all doomed. Without a doubt, the castle would fall to these invaders and there would be no mercy. It was pointless to hope otherwise.<br />
She moved across the rooftop to the corner tower where her bedchamber was housed, and looked down at the hopeless struggle.<br />
This had been far too easy a charge for the MacDonalds. To watch it any longer was pure agony, and she was ashamed when she had to close her eyes and turn her face away. She had wanted so desperately to triumph over these attackers, but she had never witnessed a battle such as this in all her twenty-one years. She'd heard tales, of course, and imagined the evils of war, but she'd had no idea how truly violent and grisly it would be.<br />
Soon the battle cries grew sparse, and only a handful of willful warriors continued to fight to the death. Other MacEwen clansmen, with swords pointed at their throats, accepted their fate. They laid down their weapons and dropped to their knees. Those who surrendered were being assembled into a line at the far wall.<br />
Gwendolen, who had been watching the great Lion throughout the battle, noticed suddenly that he was gone, vanished like a phantom into the gunsmoke. Panic shot to her core, and she gazed frantically from one corner of the bailey to the other, searching all the faces for those gleaming, devilish eyes. Where was he? Had someone killed him? Or had he penetrated the chapel to ravage the women and children, too?<br />
<br />
She spotted him, at last, on the rooftop, clear across the distance, standing on the opposite corner tower. His broadsword was sheathed at his side, and his shield was strapped to his back. He raised his arms out to his sides and shouted to the clansmen below.<br />
"I am Angus Bradach MacDonald! Son of the fallen Laird MacDonald, true master of Kinloch Castle!" His voice was deep and thunderous. It rumbled mightily inside her chest. "Kinloch belongs to me by right of birth! I hereby declare myself laird and chief!"<br />
"Kinloch belongs to the MacEwens now!" someone shouted from below. "By Letters of Fire and Sword, issued by King George of Great Britain!"<br />
<br />
"If you want it back," Angus growled, stepping forward to the edge of the rooftop, "then raise your sword and fight me!"<br />
<br />
His challenge was met with silence, until Gwendolen was overcome by a blast of anger so hot, she could not control or contain it.<br />
"Angus Bradach MacDonald!" she shouted from the dark, outraged depths of her soul. "Hear me now! I am Gwendolen MacEwen, daughter of the MacEwen chief who won this castle by fair and lawful means! I am leader here, and <br />
will fight you!"<br />
<br />
It was not until that moment that she realized she had marched to the edge of the rooftop and drawn her saber, which she was now pointing at him from across the distance.<br />
Her heart pummeled her chest. She had never felt more exhilarated. It was intoxicating. She wished there was not this expanse of separation between them. If there were a bridge from one tower to the other, she would dash across it and fight him to the death.<br />
Gwendolen MacEwen!" he shouted in reply. "Daughter of my enemy! You have been defeated!"<br />
<br />
And just like that, he dismissed her challenge and addressed the clansmen in the bailey below.<br />
"All who have taken part in usurping this castle, and are in possession of lands that did not belong to them you must forfeit them now to the clansmen from whom you took them!"<br />
Gwendolen's anger rose up again, more fiercely than before. <br />
"The MacEwens refuse!" she answered.<br />
<br />
He immediately pointed his sword at her in a forceful show of warning, then lowered it and continued, as if she had not spoken.<br />
<br />
"If that clansman is dead or absent today," he declared, "you may remain, but I will have your loyalty, and you will swear allegiance to me as Laird of Kinloch!"<br />
There was another long, drawn-out silence, until some brave soul spoke up.<br />
"Why should we pledge loyalty to you? You are a MacDonald, and we are MacEwens!"<br />
The Lion was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be looking deep into the eyes of every man in the bailey below. "Be it known that our two clans will unite!" He pointed his sword at Gwendolen again, and she felt the intense heat of his gaze like a fire across her body. "For I will claim this woman, who is your brave and noble leader, as my wife, and our son, one day, will be laird."<br />
Cheers erupted from the crowd of MacDonald warriors below, while Gwendolen digested his words with shock and disbelief. He intended to claim her as his wife.<br />
No, it was not possible.<br />
"There will be a feast on this night in the Great Hall," the Lion roared, "and I will accept the pledges of all men willing to remain here and live in peace under my protection!"<br />
<br />
Murmurs of surrender floated upward through the air and reached Gwendolen's burning ears. She clenched her jaw and dug her fingernails into the cold rough stones of the tower. This was not happening. It could not be. Pray God, this was still the dream, and she would soon wake. But the hot morning sun on her cheeks reminded her that the dreams of a restless night had already given way to reality, and her father's castle had been sacked and conquered by an unassailable warrior. Moreover, he intended to make her his bride and force her to bear children for him. What in God's name was she to do?''<br />
"I do not agree to this!" she shouted, and the Lion tilted his head to the side, beholding her strangely, as if she were some sort of otherworldly creature he had never encountered before. "I wish to negotiate our terms of surrender!"<br />
<br />
Her body began to tremble as she waited for his response. Perhaps he would simply send a man to slit her throat in front of everyone as an example for those who were bold enough, or foolish enough, to resist. He looked ready to do it. She could feel the hot flames of his anger from where she stood, at the opposite corner of the castle.<br />
Then the oddest thing happened. One by one, each MacEwen warrior in the bailey below turned toward her, and dropped to one knee. They all bowed their heads in silence, while the MacDonalds stood among them, observing the demonstration with some uneasiness.<br />
For a long time Angus stood upon the North Tower saying nothing, as he watched the men deliver this unexpected defiance. A raw and brutal tension stretched ever tighter within the castle, and Gwendolen feared they would all be slaughtered.<br />
<br />
Then, at last, the Lion turned his eyes toward her.<br />
<br />
She lifted her chin, but his murderous contempt seemed to squeeze around her throat, and she found it difficult to breathe.<br />
<br />
He spoke with quiet, grave authority. "Gwendolen MacEwen, I will hear your terms in the Great Hall."<br />
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and resheathed her saber, then walked with pride toward the tower stairs, while her legs, hidden beneath her skirts, shook uncontrollably and threatened to give out beneath her.<br />
When at last she reached the top of the stairs, she paused a moment to take a breath and compose herself.<br />
<br />
God, oh God...<br />
She felt nauseous and light-headed.<br />
<br />
Leaning forward and laying the flat of her hand upon the cool stones, she closed her eyes and wondered how she was ever going to negotiate with this warrior, who had already defeated her clan in a brutal and bloody campaign, and claimed her as his property. She had nothing, nothing,with which to bargain. But perhaps she and her mother could think of something some other way to manage the situation, at least until her brother returned.<br />
If only Murdoch were here now...<br />
But no, there was no point wishing for such things. He was not here, and she had only herself to rely on. She must stand strong for her people.<br />
She took one last look at them. Angus the Lion had quitted the rooftop and returned to his men. He was giving orders and wandering among the dead and wounded, assessing the magnitude of his triumph, no doubt.<br />
<br />
A light breeze lifted his thick golden hair, which shimmered in the morning light. His kilt wafted lightly around his muscular legs, while he adjusted the leather strap that held the shield at his back.<br />
Just then he glanced up and saw that she was watching him. He faced her squarely and did not look away.<br />
Gwendolen's breath caught in her throat. Her knees went weak, and something fluttered in her belly. Whether it was fear or fascination, she did not know. Either way, it did not bode well for her future dealings with him.<br />
Shaken and agitated, she pushed away from the wall and quickly descended the tower stairs.<br />
<br />
***Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16504778295672769903noreply@blogger.com0