Highland Master (20 page)

“I dinnae understand,” she said, and idly noted that he now held both her hands in his and she had no urge to yank them free.

“Ye told me that Boyd wed ye for your purse, and we both ken why Sir John was trying to marry ye. I decided it was time that a mon asked for your hand without expecting anything from ye. So, with Gormfeurach without a laird, I saw my chance to gain my own land and thus come to ye with nay need of yours.”

She found the strength to yank her hands free of his and stood up to pace the room. Her heart was pounding so hard she was astonished he did not hear it and remark upon it. Triona tried to make sense of his words but was afraid to believe in them. He sounded as if he was after her hand in marriage, and everything inside her wanted to yell out aye, but the thought that she might have heard him wrong made her hesitate. It would be so humiliating if she was wrong.

Brett did not hesitate to take advantage of the fact that a table no longer separated them. He leapt up and caught her in his arms as she walked by him, too lost in her thoughts to evade him. For a moment she stood like a pillar of stone in his arms, but slowly she softened, her body resting against his.

“I kenned that when your troubles were solved and it was time for me to leave, I did not wish to leave ye,” he said as he rested his chin on the top of her head and savored how it felt to have her back in his arms.

“But ye did.”

“I realized I had a chance, though it may have been a small one, to claim Gormfeurach. Then I could come to ye with something of value. Ye should have that, should have a mon who comes to ye and wants nothing but ye. Nay your purse or your land. I can do that now.”

She leaned back a little and looked at him. “Ye want me?”

“Och, aye,” he whispered, and lightly brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I did for a long time ere I left. I was just a wee bit slow in seeing exactly how much I wanted ye.”

“Weel, ye got what ye wanted,” she muttered, and blushed.

“Aye, or so I thought, but then I wanted more. Yet I was wary. I loved a lass once, and I lost her. For years I have blamed myself for her death, was so certain I should have been able to save her. We were planning to run away and get married when she was murdered. I think the fact that she carried my child at the time only added to my guilt o’er not being able to save her. She was attacked so near to me as I sat awaiting her, unaware of how she needed me.”

“How verra sad. Why did ye feel guilty, though? Was it your enemies who murdered her?”

“Nay, they were enemies of her clan. And Brian made me see that I have been, as he put it, wearing a hair shirt o’er something I could nay change. I wasnae there. ’Tis that simple. I would have done all I could if I had been, but I wasnae. I didnae heed him much at first, but that realization has settled in now.”

“And ye still love her?” she asked quietly, bracing herself for him to confess that he did.

“She will always have a small place in my heart, if only because she was going to be the mother of my child, but ye dinnae need to fear that she still holds my heart as she once did. For a long time, though, I was so troubled by what had happened, and my guilt, that I had difficulty being with a woman.”

Triona thought of how often and vigorously they had made love, and frowned. “I didnae sense that ye had any trouble.”

“I didnae with ye. This is going to make ye think I am mad, but I would see her ghost whene’er I tried to be with a woman.”

Triona stared at him and could tell that, even though it made him uncomfortable to tell her, he was speaking the truth. “A ghostie like Ella sees?”

“Something like that. She would appear and that would end my desire to be with the woman I was with. Nothing stopped the vision of the ghost save for a great deal of drink, but that only made it go away whilst I was blind drunk. So, when I didnae see her when I was with ye, I began to think it was because of ye, because it was ye I was about to bed down with. Nay, it was because I wasnae bedding down with ye but
making love
to ye.”

He watched her closely as she thought that over. The fact that she had not immediately told him he was mad or telling her a lie allowed him to relax. It had been right to tell her. He doubted he would see Brenda’s spirit again, but he did not wish to hide such a thing from Triona if he did.

“I see. So ye wish to stay with me because ye dinnae see the ghost?”

“Nay, I want to stay with ye because I cannae abide being away from ye.” He kissed her, his kiss quickly revealing how hungry for her he was when she did not push him away. “I want to marry ye, Triona,” he whispered when he ended the kiss and brushed his lips over her cheek. “I have my dower and I have shed that cursed hair shirt I have worn for seven years and I wish to make ye my wife.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Ah, lass, because I cannae be without ye at my side. Ye are what I need to be happy. I kenned that before I left, and the knowledge just grew stronger every day we were apart. I ne’er realized how alone I had become until I rode away from here that day, and I dinnae want to be alone anymore.”

Triona gave herself over to his kiss, craving the taste of him. It was not until he started to push her up against her worktable that she regained enough of her scattered senses to push him away, although only far enough to put a small distance between their bodies. She knew what he wanted right now, did not have to feel the hardness of him against her to know it. It was there in his kiss and his eyes. Triona also knew that she would somehow find the strength to say no.

For a moment she thought on all he had said. There had been one glaring omission. He had not said he loved her. He had said he wanted her, needed her, felt alone without her by his side, but had made no declaration of love. That stung, but she told herself not to be an idiot. The man had gone to a lot of trouble just to come to her and ask for her hand in marriage, in a way that could never make her think he did it for Banuilt. For now, that and all he had offered would be enough, at least for her to say aye.

“So, are ye formally asking me to be your wife?” she asked.

“Aye, Triona, marry me. Be my wife. Have my bairns or nay, as ye please.” He grinned. “Although I would verra much like to have a bairn or two with ye.”

He would get that far sooner than he planned, she mused, and almost told him. But then she bit her lip against the words. There would be time for that after they were married. For just a little while she wanted to be only a bride. She also intended to be a bride before she became his lover again, and pushed him away far enough to slip free of his hold.

“Triona?” he asked, his whole body aching for her.

“This time we willnae be slipping into a bed”—she blushed and looked at the worktable he had been pushing her up against—“or hopping on a table until we are properly married.”

“But we have already been lovers, and everyone here kens it,” he protested, even as he struggled to cool his need because he could tell that she was very serious about this.

“I ken it, but nay this time. The next time we are in a bed together, I want to call ye my husband.”

“Then ye had best start preparing for a wedding, as I will be off to fetch a priest as soon as the sun rises.”

She grimaced. “I fear that will have to be Father Mure. He is still at Gormfeurach.”

“Nay the best choice. We could go . . .”

“Nay, it can be him. I willnae wait any longer than it takes to fetch him.” She reached out to caress his cheek. “I have missed ye as weel, Sir Brett Murray. I dinnae wish to wait weeks to find another priest willing to journey here to marry us.”

“Then ye had best find your friend Joan and talk to Nessa, for I was nay jesting when I said I will be off to fetch the fool in the morning.”

After giving her a kiss that left her slumped against her worktable struggling to catch her breath, Brett left. Triona was torn between wanting to dance about the room and wanting to fret over the fact that he had still not given her any words of love. It was going to take work not to think about that too much and be happy for what she had. The man her heart had been aching for was back and intended to marry her, even spoke of how much he wanted and needed her, even missed her. She would get the rest of what she needed after they were married. Triona refused to believe she would fail to win his heart, for the thought of being trapped in another loveless marriage was enough to make her want to run away. Brett desired her, liked her, and respected her. The seeds of love were there. All she had to do was make them grow strong enough to last a lifetime.

“The priest wasnae happy about being dragged out of bed.”

Brett looked at Harcourt even as he finished donning his plaid. “I dinnae care what Father Mure is happy about or nay happy about. This is the least he can do, and with a smile on his face, after what he was willing to do for Sir John.”

“Verra true. I was a wee bit surprised when ye returned so soon to the great hall to tell us all that ye would be married.” Harcourt grinned. “Rather thought we wouldnae be seeing either of you until the morning.”

“Nay, although that was my plan yesterday, but she wishes to be married first. She willnae let me come to her bed unless I do so as her husband.”

“Do ye think she doesnae trust that ye will go through with it?”

“Nay, she trusts me. Triona is a verra moral wee lass, for all that she let me be her lover for a wee while. She thought I wouldnae be staying once her troubles here were ended, didnae she?” He shrugged. “I am nay leaving this time, and mayhap to please her people or simply because she slid off the righteous path for a time and doesnae wish to do so again, she means to do this properly.”

Harcourt nodded. “That makes sense. She is verra conscious of her place as laird here.”

“I told her about Brenda,” Brett said abruptly and, after taking a deep breath, confessed everything about his old love, her ghost, and the trouble he had had with women because of it. He felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders when he was done.

“Jesu,” Harcourt whispered, and then he shook his head. “I am nay sure I would have told her if I had been in your place, but I suppose that once ye told her that ye loved her now, Triona wasnae too troubled by the tale.”

Brett paused in pinning on his brooch and stared at his brother. He carefully thought over all he had said to Triona before she had joined him in the great hall so that they could announce their forthcoming marriage. Search his words though he did, he could not find those three very important words in anything he had said to Triona.

He almost rushed from the room to go and tell her now. A part of him was suddenly terrified that she would realize his omission and leave him standing at the altar. Brett stood where he was, his brooch clutched so tightly in his hand he knew it would leave a mark.

“I didnae tell her,” he said, stunned by his own stupidity.

“What?”

“I didnae tell Triona that I loved her.”

“And yet she still said she would marry ye?”

“Aye.” Brett slowly began to relax, his sudden fear easing away. “Aye, she did. What I said was enough for her to ken that I am nay marrying her just because I dinnae see Brenda when I am with her or because I covet her land.”

He could not believe he had babbled on and on and never once truly told her what she meant to him. Wanting, needing, missing.
Look at me, I am now a laird and I do not see a ghost when we make love.
Brett had to wonder why Triona had not just punched him in the mouth.

“Might I suggest that ye make verra sure ye say it to her on your wedding night?” Harcourt frowned. “Ye
do
love her, aye?”

“Och, aye. I am fair certain she loves me, too, although I begin to wonder why she would.”

“I but pray she hasnae thought too long on what ye didnae say that she changes her mind about this.”

So did Brett, because he suddenly knew he had not given her very much to cling to as she took her vows. Triona had so many skills and so much strength, he forgot all too often about that vulnerability he had seen in her too many times. There had not really been any man in her life who had shown any true feelings for her. In an odd way, that could be what saved him from the consequences of his own idiocy. Triona might believe she was getting so much more than she had before, she needed to say aye. He was going to enjoy letting her know the truth about his feelings for her, letting her know just what a treasure she was in his eyes.

 

 

“He didnae tell me that he loves me, Joan,” Triona said as her friend and Nessa helped her dress for her wedding. “Mayhap I shouldnae do this until he does tell me.”

“Dinnae e’en think about nay doing this,” said Joan. “Of course he loves ye. He was just being an idiot of a mon. They do often think they dinnae need to say the words, that a lass ought to ken how he feels from his actions or his loving. As if men dinnae show far too many lasses their skills at loving before they pick one to wed. Ye just make certain that your mon says it tonight.”

“And just how am I to do that?”

“Ye could always say it first,” said Nessa, and shrugged when Triona glared at her. “Just a wee passing thought. He might be needing the wee nudge, too, to unstick the words from his gullet.”

“If he didnae say it, then why did ye say aye when he asked ye to be his wife?” asked Joan.

“People of our ilk dinnae marry for love, so I didnae think on it,” Triona replied.

“Love be why ye are wedding the fool now, and dinnae try to tell me otherwise.”

“Aye, it is why I am about to marry him despite the lack of those words. He spoke of needing me, wanting me, and missing me sorely whilst he was away from me. I felt that was far more than I have e’er been offered before. And he went out and gained hold of Gormfeurach for me, so that he could actually present me with a dower.”

“Why does his having Gormfeurach matter?”

“He told me he wanted to be the one to offer me a dower when he asked for my hand, that I had had two men who showed they cared only for what I could give them, and he did not want to be a third.” She frowned when Nessa and Joan just stared at her. “Ye find that a poor reason to wed with the mon?”

“Nay, I but think he is a wonderful mon and would almost take back the talk of his idiocy. He kenned what ye needed, lass,” Joan said, and Nessa nodded in agreement. “Ye might nay have seen it, but he did. This time, and especially with this mon, ye needed to ken for certain that he actually gains nothing at all when he marries ye. I think that says quite a lot about how he feels about ye. So let us hurry and get ye ready so that ye can go and make that mon all yours.”

It was what she wanted, Triona told herself. All that she had dreamed of since he had ridden away was Brett returning to Banuilt and making her his wife. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. Even if she never heard him speak of love, he would give her so much more of a true marriage than Boyd ever had.

Brett watched the women lead his wife to the small shaded knoll where he waited with Harcourt and the priest. It was the area where they had once thought to put a church, but had yet to find a new priest. The old church in the village was in too much disrepair to consider using it, and he had wanted the ceremony to be somewhere other than the great hall. The marriage was being done hastily, but he had seen no reason why something could not be done to make it a little festive.

Triona deserved it, he told himself. The people of Banuilt deserved a celebration as well. He could tell from the fields and the condition of the cottages that a lot of work had been done and a good harvest would soon be brought in. This was a good reward for all of that hard work.

Glancing around, he had to admire the efficiency of the women at Banuilt. They had arranged a spot for the priest to stand beneath a large rowan tree, spread a white cloth upon the ground for him and Triona to kneel on, and draped other bolts of cloth on the trees all around the knoll, adding a bit of a festive air. Flower petals were strewn along the path that led to where he waited for Triona, and a lot of little girls, clean and dressed in their finest, stood along the path holding flowers in their little hands. Everyone from Banuilt appeared to have gathered around, and even the sun graced them with a warm day. Brett was not sure he could have asked for anything better.

He wished his family could be there but hastily pushed the wish aside. Harcourt was with him, and that was enough for now. Later he would try to think of some way to get his family to come to Banuilt, perhaps put on a celebration later for the family alone. His mother would be disappointed, especially since she had been pressing him to get married, but he knew she would love Triona and forgive him his hurry.

When Triona reached his side, he took her by the hand and sent the priest a warning look. The man had been very unhappy about being dragged to Banuilt to perform this ceremony. He had said but one unkind thing about Triona before Brett had made it clear that he would be very wise to say nothing more save for the marriage rites. Why the man was still at Gormfeurach, he did not know, but he would make sure he was not there for much longer.

The ceremony went on without any problem, although the priest was far from pleasant. With a surprising grace, Angus appeared beside them with the old church ledger for them to sign. Once done, Brett turned to the people gathered, grinned, and kissed his new wife. The cheers of the people of Banuilt rang through the clearing, and he did not think he had ever felt so at home since he had ceased living with his parents more years ago than he cared to count.

Everyone went down into the village, where a feast awaited them, tables were set all along the road through the village so that everyone at Banuilt could join in the celebration. There were people there from Gormfeurach as well. Toasts came from anyone who was inclined to raise his tankard. Brett caught a glimpse of Ella with her cat draped over her shoulders, telling the MacFingals—Ned and Nathan—some tale that had them both laughing.

“Ye are smiling so widely, Brett,” said Triona. “Have I missed something?”

“Nay.” He leaned over to brush a kiss over her mouth. “I was just thinking that it is a glorious day.”

“Aye, it is. It is indeed. Even Father Mure couldnae spoil it.”

He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. It was going to be difficult to wait until the evening when he could finally be alone with her. Not only did his body ache for her, but Brett now knew that he would be able to tell her with ease how much she meant to him, and had every intention of doing so. Before the night was done, Triona would know just how deeply rooted in his heart she was, and he would be sure to have her say what was in her heart as well. They would start the first night of their marriage with no more doubts between them.

Triona smiled at him, leaned into his side, and the lingering worry she had nursed faded away. He had not said the words, but if he did not exactly love her now, she began to be more certain that he would soon. It was there to see in how pleased he was with their marriage, even how he teased her as they ate and drank. There may not be love there yet, but her heart told her the seeds had already begun to take root.

 

 

Triona tried not to be nervous as she waited in the bed for the arrival of her new husband. She was wearing a delicate, lace-trimmed shift that she hoped would look alluring. Her hair was brushed out and neatly draped over her shoulders. She was clean and nicely scented, all prepared and ready for her husband to come and claim her. Triona wondered why that was making her far more nervous than she had ever been when she and Brett had been lovers.

She pondered what Nessa had said, that she should be the first to speak of love. It was probably what would be needed to try to get Brett to be more fulsome about his own feelings, but she wondered why men had to be so difficult. He was the one who had proposed, the one who had worked so long and hard to get what he thought was needed to offer her his hand in marriage. It was a bit odd that he would then lack the stamina to tell her what was in his heart. She could not completely still the little voice that whispered that he might not actually hold her in his heart.

The door opened and he stumbled in, pushed by his laughing brother, the MacFingals, and Aiden. Triona stared, for he was wrapped only in his plaid. If there were not so many people wandering around the manor at the moment, she suspected they would have tossed him into her bedchamber naked.

She had not forgotten how fine he looked, but seeing him in the flesh again was a lot different from seeing him in her dreams. Triona clenched her hands into tight fists as she fought the urge to leap up, run over to him, and stroke all that smooth skin stretched taut over muscle, the few battle scars he carried only adding to the manly beauty of him.

Before she had a chance to weaken and give in to that need, Brett was there beside her bed. He wasted no time in shedding his plaid and climbing into bed with her. A heartbeat later he was tugging off her night shift. Triona gasped with pleasure when their skin touched for the first time in far too long.

“I was going to love ye slowly, dearling,” Brett said as he crouched over her and looked his fill at her body, “but I dinnae have the strength for any patience just yet.”

The way her body ached, Triona decided that she did not have any patience, either. She was starved for the pleasure he could give her, for the feel of his strong body joined with hers. Not surprised to see her hand tremble, she reached out and touched him, slowly running her hand down his back.