Amanda Scott (49 page)

She frowned. “I will miss my family, sir.”

“Your mother, Mary, and even Neil, are welcome to live with us if you like,” he said. “We can discuss all that later, but unless you say you do not want me, I mean to consummate this union tonight before anything else can interfere.”

“You leave me little choice, sir.”

He said nothing, but she knew he would not take her against her will, or even if she remained the least bit reluctant. Somehow that made the decision both harder and easier to make. Biting her lip, she raised her hands to his shoulders.

He said gently, “Are you sure?”

She nodded, and when his hands moved to the tie on the wool dressing gown, desire ignited like an ember that had been glowing, hopeful of fuel.

He paused with his hand on the ties, then picked her up without ceremony and carried her to the bed. Putting her down carefully, he spread her covers atop the bedclothes and drew the bed curtains on that side.

There were no candles to snuff. The only light in the room came from the fire. When he stepped out of her view for a moment, she could tell from whispering sounds she heard that he was taking off his clothing.

His boots thudded to the floor, then his heavy jacket hit the wooden chair, making it rock with a clatter against the stone floor. It was almost as if she could see him, but she was not tempted to peek although she could easily have done so.

She heard his bare feet on the stone floor, and then the glowing fire outlined his body for a moment before he climbed onto the bed from its foot. His skin looked golden. He was completely naked.

“You’ve still got Patrick’s dressing gown on,” he said, touching her throat, then stroking her skin gently as he moved his warm hand down to the opening of the dressing gown. It parted, revealing her breasts and his hand cupped the right one, his thumb moving lightly across the nipple.

She gasped at the sensations that light touch stirred throughout her body.

“Frightened, sweetheart?”

“Not of you, only of what lies ahead of us.”

“Don’t think about that. Think only of our happiness, one day at a time.”

“You’ll expect me to swear an oath of allegiance.”

“Only to me, sweetheart.”

“What of your family, and his grace of Argyll?”

“I’ll expect you to respect my opinions and my family, Diana, just as I will respect you and yours,” he said quietly, resting on one elbow to look down at her. “I don’t doubt that we will disagree many times, sweetheart, about many things, but the old ways have gone and they won’t ever come back.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “It’s sad.”

“Think of it, and us, as a beginning, lass, not an ending. Those of us who survive and succeed in the future must do so in a new Scotland, and if Scotland is to survive, if any part of our Highland way of life is to survive, then people like us must lead the way. If loving each other can help us learn to live and work together in harmony, we’ll be miles ahead of those who cannot do so. We can teach our sons the best of the old and the new, and they can teach their sons.”

“And our daughters?”

“And our daughters.” He kissed her right breast, and when his tongue touched the nipple, she gasped again, then lay back against the down-filled pillows, her doubts receding rapidly. The bedding smelled of cinnamon and cloves, which she was beginning to think was the most delightful of scents. Drawing a deep breath, she decided that she desired the man beside her far too much to resist his caresses any longer. She wanted him to hold her in his arms forever.

“I must be daft,” she murmured when his lips touched hers.

“You are beautiful,” he said. Then he kissed her harder, his arms coming around her, holding her close. His free hand pushed the wool dressing gown off her shoulders. Then, lifting her, he pulled it out from under her and tossed it to the foot of the bed.

She heard it slip to the floor, but she made no protest, for her body had come alive, and she could think of nothing else. He had only to touch her in a new place to ignite leaping flames within her. Moaning, she welcomed his tongue into her mouth, teasing it with her own, easily matching his passion. When he parted her legs and one hand moved gently between them, she gasped, but his touch was sure and stimulating, exciting her and raising her to such a pitch that she was more than ready when he moved to possess her.

He paused, and she knew that he did so with difficulty, for his passions were as untamed as hers, but he kissed her lightly and said, “I’ll be as gentle as I know how to be, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She ached for him, and it was all she could do not to beg him to take her. Still, knowing he might hurt her unintentionally, she held her breath, raising a hand to stroke his chest, to tease him as he had teased her. When she heard his breath catch, the sound delighted her.

She moved her hand lower, to his stomach, then moved it away when he eased himself into her. Her breasts seemed to swell, and her breath came hot and fast, and when he kissed her again, passion blazed again inside her. There was an ache, a brief sharp pain, and then a burning heat that threatened to consume them both. As they clung to each other, no memory of the terrors of the night or the icy sea stirred to quench their ardor.

They moved faster, finding their rhythm, aware of nothing and no one but each other. If this was what it meant to forge new life for a new world, Diana thought when she lay sated in his arms, she was willing to give it her all.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

“Aye.” But she snuggled closer and did not object when he pulled the coverlets and featherbed over them both. She could hear the waves and the wind again. “Do you hear that?”

“The sea?”

“Aye. Earlier, I thought that whenever I’d hear that sound again, I would think of the Lady Rock. I won’t now. I’ll think of this moment, with you.”

He stiffened, and for a moment she thought that somehow she had misspoken. Then she heard what he had heard, the rattle of a hand at the latch. The door opened and an unfamiliar voice said sharply, “Rory, damn your impudence, sir, are you there?”

She thought Rory growled, but his voice was calm enough when he said, “I hope you will not think me uncivil, your grace, if I point out that you intrude in a most untimely fashion.”

Diana wriggled farther down under the covers.

The voice said harshly, “I was told that you had carried off an innocent young woman, sir, and meant to take her to your bed.”

“I will murder Patrick for this,” Rory muttered. Then in a louder tone, he said, “If it please your grace, your informant apparently neglected to inform you that I have declared my intention to marry this young woman.”

A second, much more familiar voice said, “Diana, are you there?”

Having identified the unseen gentleman as his grace of Argyll, Diana had shuddered to think that he might step to the foot of the bed where he would see them both clearly, but Lady Maclean’s presence was even more dismaying.

“Mam, what are you doing here?”

“So it
is
you,” Lady Maclean said with satisfaction. “They all had to pass Maclean House, of course, coming here to Stalker, and his grace was kind enough to offer me space in his coach”—a distinct growl from his grace indicated that she had perhaps misrepresented the invitation—“and we came with all due speed. I heard before we arrived that you were safe, but what is this? Mary told me it was a case between you, despite all that happened. Do you really want to marry him?”

“Somehow,” Diana said with a sigh, “this is not how I had imagined announcing my betrothal.”

“Your marriage, lass,” Rory said, chuckling. “The deed is done.”

“That will be enough out of you, sir,” she muttered.

To her horror, he caught up a coverlet, wrapped it around himself, and swept the curtain back. Diana snatched the bedclothes up to her chin.

“Mistress Diana,” the Duke of Argyll said brusquely, apparently undismayed by her appearance, “if he has coerced you in any way, you need only tell me so. I’ll not have it said that any kinsman of mine forced this union upon you, for I have heard enough this past evening about heathenish Campbell ways to last me a lifetime, and I do
not
intend to allow him to provide further grist for that particular mill.”

“Your grace,” Lady Maclean said testily, “if you directed that comment to my account, let me tell you right to your head—”

“Indeed, madam, you have given me enough advice tonight to see me into heaven without so much as a pause at the pearly gates to identify myself, if I follow but a tenth of it. Have done now. I have promised to put this right, and so I shall, although it was in fact one of your clan,
not
one of mine that—”

“Your grace, Rory did not coerce me,” Diana said, judging it more than time to intervene, even if she had to interrupt him to do so.

“Are you certain of that?” the duke demanded. “Because even if he has already possessed you, I can make things right. I can arrange a marriage as much to your advantage, even more so, because when I have finished with him—”

“Now, see here, sir—”

“Do you defy me, Rory? Because if you dare—”

“No, sir, of course not. I merely wish to point out to you—”

“Before you point out anything, I will have an unequivocal answer from this young woman.” Argyll looked at Diana, waiting pointedly.

She fought her sense of the absurd, finding it hard under the circumstances to remember that this peevish, elderly man held the power of life and death at his whim, that he was, in fact, the most powerful man in all of Scotland. Sensing Rory’s increasing tension, she gathered her wits and said as calmly as she could, “I am content, sir. I love Rory with all my heart. My only worry has been that others might resent our union and cause him harm—indeed, that you yourself might be furious with him if he married me, and would demand a harsh punishment.”

Grimly Argyll shifted his gaze to Rory. “I have disagreed with him many times, mistress,” he said, “but in this instance I believe he has made a wise decision. To rebuild Scotland, we must unite her. I do not know if this marriage will foster peace. No one can know that, and previous such unions have failed to unite our clans. Still, I believe yours will be a good marriage.”

“I can think of one thing that would help foster that peace you speak of, your grace,” Lady Maclean said in a much more amiable tone than she generally employed with him. “You have the power, if you will but exert it, to see Craignure restored to the Macleans. Well, not to the Macleans, exactly, but to Diana’s child, and Rory’s.” She paused, watching Argyll.

The silence lengthened. Diana held her breath.

“A wedding gift, you mean?” Argyll looked at Rory. “I don’t know that you deserve it, but perhaps we can manage something of that nature. At all events, we’ll arrange a proper ceremony immediately, at Inveraray, to show the world that the Campbells and Macleans need not always be at war.” Turning to Diana, he added kindly, “I do wish you happy, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir,” Diana said.

Lady Maclean said, “Are you certain you want this, Diana?”

“Do you object, Mam?”

With a wry smile, her ladyship said, “Would it matter if I did?”

“I love you, Mam. Of course, it must matter, but I love Rory more than I had thought it possible to love any man. What would you have me do?”

“And you, sir, do you love my daughter?”

“With all my heart,” Rory said simply.

“Then that is that,” Lady Maclean said quietly. “We have intruded enough, Duke. You may take me back to the hall. By now Mary will have learned where Patrick Campbell means to put us, I expect. Besides, I must explain to you again just why you must instantly release James of the Glen.”

“Now, see here, madam …”

When the door had shut behind them, Rory got up at once to bolt it. “I should have done that before,” he said, grinning ruefully at Diana over his shoulder. The firelight played on his body, turning his flesh golden and outlining his muscles with shadows that danced as he moved.

When he turned to put another log on the fire, she said, “Don’t be too long, my lord. This bed grows cold without you.”

“We’ll soon warm it up, sweetheart, never fear.”

Watching him walk toward her, Diana knew that for them, love would prevail. For the present, at least, they were free of the past and could look ahead with hope for a future unfettered by clan shackles and blind allegiance.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed
Highland Secrets.
There is not and never has been a branch of Clan Maclean identified as the Macleans of Craignure. Their history, in large part, is borrowed from the Macleans of Duart and augmented by the author. The ancient history of the Macleans and Campbells, including the legend of the Lady Rock, is based on historical fact and legend, which means that any errors are the fault of yours truly.

There once was a real Lord Calder, but the title did not come into being until 1796, and John Campbell, the man who bore it, spent most of his life in Wales (though his roots were Scottish). He bears no relationship to Rory Campbell, who is fictitious.

Female Jacobite prisoners were all imprisoned at Edinburgh Castle, from which a real Lady Ogilvy escaped in the manner used in this book. The friend who pretended to be a laundress and exchanged clothes with her was afterward allowed to go free.

Scottish law, being generally based on the old canon law of the Roman church, has always recognized so-called irregular marriages. One such form is the famous
marriage by declaration,
which you may recall from
Highland Fling.
A second is the
marriage of promise subsequente copula
described in
Highland Secrets,
where both the promise and the
copula
had to take place in Scotland. A third form is identified as
marriage by cohabitation with habit and repute,
similar to our common-law marriage.

The murder of Colin Campbell of Glen Ure (known commonly as Glenure or Red Colin) occurred as described. Much controversy has been stirred since then by the fact that while Allan Breck Stewart escaped, James of the Glen was arrested and later hanged. Many people then (and now) believed him innocent of all wrongdoing.