Page 11 of Bride Takes a Charmer (Highland Vows & Vengeance #3)

O n the night of the feast, Sorsha dressed in a rust-colored gown that flowed loosely at her arms and the material fanned at her feet.

A gleaming belt of gold surrounded her waist and matched the slippers the queen had given her.

The maids did her hair in an elaborate braid that crowned her head and the remainder of her tresses hung long in strands of smaller braids and untethered locks.

She peered at herself in the glass of the window casement and almost lost her breath—unable to recognize the woman who peered back at her.

During her captivity and with the distraught of losing Gillian, Sorsha had changed.

The free-spirited lass she’d once been was gone.

No longer was she the winsome, laughing mother and wife.

In her place, a more resigned woman stared back.

Now Sorsha just wanted Gillian returned to her and to be left alone by Geoff.

She had no sense of vengeance for what he’d done to her.

There was no reason to put herself in further danger.

Once she got her daughter back, she would find a way to stay clear of the Chattans and prayed that her new husband would cherish and protect her and her daughter.

“Are you ready?” Margaret asked.

“As I shall ever be.” She followed the queen until they reached the king in the hallway outside the great hall.

The king motioned her forward into the small antechamber and she entered.

She dared not look at those inside, too afraid to face her past because she feared Shaw Mackintosh wouldn’t remember her or the time they’d spent together.

With slow steps, she crossed the chamber and stood with the other women offered as brides.

Sorsha took a breath and raised her chin.

Her gaze roved from one braw man to the next as the Highlanders stood grouped across from them.

Her breath about ceased and a sense of heat overwhelmed her body.

A wariness flushed her skin as if she were that long-lost lass, the girl whose heart was easily won by the charming Highlander.

In spite of his relaxed expression, his muscular body stood braced and ready for the king’s entrance.

Her breath increased as she viewed his stance and the way his tunic hugged the contours of his arms and chest. At his waist, a muted brown tartan was belted and fell to his knees.

Her gaze lingered a little at the bare skin of his legs beneath the hem of his tartan until they reached the top of his boots in soft brown leather.

Sorsha tried to slow her breathing. The sight of him was still exciting and everything she’d remembered.

He was too handsome, too strong, too affecting and her heart raced at the memory of being in his arms. When she saw Shaw, every other man in the room disappeared and a sense akin to coming home settled over her.

He was as she remembered. Her heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, slowed, and she was able to draw in a deep breath.

At the same time, heat flushed over her, and for a moment she was not the resigned woman in the mirror, she was a girl again, infatuated by the charming Highlander.

The queen entered and gave her a raised brow as she followed King Alexander to the dais.

He’d stopped briefly to say something to the Highlanders, who continued to shift on their feet, uncomfortable but apparently resigned to their fates, and then proceeded to move forward.

All waited to hear what the king would say.

He cleared his throat and motioned to the assembly.

“This is a moment of import, and I am pleased to see you here. We shall now have a feast with dancing and merriment. I will give you this time to greet each other and become familiar. Before the night ends, the selections will be discussed and finalized on the morrow. I bid you to eat and drink.”

Within moments of the king’s speech, the double doors to the great hall opened.

Sorsha was in awe of the splendor. The glamor of the chamber was set by three large candelabras to which many candles sent a glow about the faces of those in attendance. On a platform in the corner, musicians began to play a soft ballad.

She looked around at the women with whom she stood and noticed one young woman who appeared discouraged to be in the chamber with the Highlanders and decided to approach her.

Perhaps she felt alone and unsure of herself and this situation in which they found themselves, and didn’t know how to proceed.

Her heart went out to her, and maybe because of the wisdom she’d gained from being married to a laird, she felt responsible to help her.

Moving closer, she caught the woman’s eyes with her own and said, “I have not met you before. I am Sorsha of the d’Avranches previously from Cheshire.”

The lady dipped her chin. “I am pleased to meet you Mistress d’Avranches.” She did indeed sound unsure. Sorsha could easily imagine her feelings. If she hadn’t been married already and didn’t know Shaw, she would feel exactly that same way. She tried to set the woman at ease.

“Sorsha, please. I was formerly Lady Chattan but alas, I am no longer. Are you as delighted as I am to have been chosen by the king?”

“I suppose I am,” she said and bowed her head. “I am Kendra of Clan Graham.” The woman gave her a slight smile.

As much as she wished to counsel the young woman further, she noticed the queen staring at her from across the room.

Margaret gave her a pointed look and a jerk of her head toward Shaw.

She could easily read it to mean she needed to go meet him without delay.

Very well then. “We should go and greet the men,” she told Kendra, and then set off, leaving her alone.

It was not her place to help another woman find her husband. She was expected to find her own. So she kept her gaze fixed on Shaw.

He crossed to speak to the queen. As she approached, she overheard Margaret speaking about Mistress Kendra and her aim to introduce her to Laird Cameron.

Good. The thought that the young woman wouldn’t be left to fend completely for herself made her feel better about deserting her.

The queen was already planning for Kendra’s betrothal and she would choose well for her.

She didn’t mean to interrupt her conversation with Shaw, but she drew close to him and smiled, then curtsied to the queen as was proper, though her eyes remained on him.

She knew Margaret would be pleased she was focused on him and—for once—ignored court etiquette.

Shaw bowed to her in return, and when he rose, he kept his gray eyes fastened on hers.

The recognition in his gaze sent warmth through her.

He spoke and even his voice sent a thrill through her, though his words were anything but titillating.

“Milady Sorsha, I was dismayed to learn of your husband’s, ah , Rodick’s death.

How are ye faring? This must be a difficult time. ”

She kept her face lowered so he wouldn’t see the effect his voice had on her.

Sorsha had always admired his deep tone which she likened to a caress of the wind when he spoke.

Her heart thudded from his nearness, hard enough that she wondered if he could hear it.

She took a deep breath and said, “Laird Mackintosh, it is a pleasure to see you again. Aye, Rodick recently passed and the queen wanted to secure my protection. A woman without a husband is vulnerable to troubles.”

“Indeed she is. Do ye recall when we met here in the king’s castle?” His eyes stayed on hers and she was struck at how even though they were gray as cold steel in color, the expression they held was warm.

She wanted to remind him of their past. “I recall us laughing at the mishap of that servant… remember when she dropped the entire tray of cups on that poor lord?”

Shaw chuckled lightly. “Ah, the Englishman who escorted ye. I remember him well. He was overzealous in his guarding of ye. Come and let us take to the dance.”

When he took her hand in his, Sorsha drew a small sigh at the warmth of his touch.

She trembled and was unsure if it was from desire swarming her body or the emotions coursing through her.

His touch was tender, yet strong, as if he offered so much more than his escort to the dance floor.

Was it her imagination? She didn’t think so.

She gently squeezed his hand and allowed him to lead her as the harpist’s chords filled the chamber with a soft melody.

She moved around him in steps to the dance.

Each time he approached her, she met his intense gaze.

The overwhelming urge to touch him caused her to clasp his hand and force him to follow her.

Sorsha didn’t know where she was taking him, but she wanted to be alone. They ended up on a balcony to the right of the great hall. A short stone wall surrounded the length of the balcony and she sat upon it.

He joined her, sitting beside her, and stretched his legs outward.

His muscular, hard thigh almost pressed against her softer one but she shifted a little closer, purposely squeezing herself against him.

How she wanted to press her hand on his hard, muscular thigh, to caress him, and to tell him without words how much she had missed him.

She lifted her eyes and saw the passion in his gaze.

At that moment, it was as if they had never been separated.

They didn’t speak but could only gaze at each other until Shaw finally broke the silence.

“I never forgot ye, lass. When ye married Rodick, I was begrudged in my pursuit of ye. Now that ye are available again, would ye be amiable to marrying me?” He took her hand and squeezed it with his warm fingers.

She looked down at their joined hands. It felt so right to be able to touch him and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

“Oh, Shaw, you do not know how disappointed I was to have to marry Rodick. My father forced me to accept him because he’d made a treaty with the Chattans.

I had no choice but to obey him.” Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his, as saddened memories brought forth the reminder of hurting him then.

Yet Shaw’s tone didn’t sound angry or piqued.

She shifted closer to him, and briefly closed her eyes, allowing his nearness to affect her senses.

He smelled of a manly scent that reminded her of rain amid a warm summer day, and the sound of his voice nearly shook her.

“If you want to marry me now, then yes, I would be amiable.”

“I professed my feelings for ye back then but we were so young. I thought we had time. To have to witness your marriage to my cousin was a difficult time for me…”

Sorsha reached for his hand again and this time she held it. “I wasn’t told until right before my wedding that I was to marry him. It was a horrid day to be sure. I vow it was a difficult time for me as well.” She lowered her chin and tried not to let the sadness of her admission affect her.

“Ye had a child, did ye not, and gave Laird Chattan a daughter?”

Sorsha smiled and nodded. “I did. Her name is Gillian.”

“Is she at Tor?” he asked and caressed the tops of her fingers with his thumb.

She glanced at his hand and the sensual way he stroked hers. In all the years she’d been with Rodick, he never once touched her in such an appealing, desirous way. “She is, but I hope to retrieve her soon.” She decided now was not the time to discuss how Gillian was essentially Geoff’s hostage.

“I was almost knocked on my arse when Alexander told me that ye were an offered bride. Though I am sorry for your loss, lass, I am not displeased to take ye for my wife. I promise ye that ye will be held in the highest esteem by my clan and by me as well.” He lifted her hand and brushed his hard, manly lips over her knuckles.

Sorsha’s breath caught in her throat. She scrunched her eyes and grinned, hoping his words held the promise of a better life for her and Gillian. “There is nothing, Laird Mackintosh, that would make me happier.”

“Shaw, lass. Ye used to call me Shaw, do ye remember? I was always fond of the way ye spoke it. I will do my best to win your hand before any of the other grooms can name ye. Should we return to the hall?” He stood and pulled her to stand.

Sorsha didn’t know what overcame her, but once she was on her feet, she embraced him.

Her arms surrounded his hard familiar body and she pressed herself against him.

She lifted her face to better see him but his gray eyes smoldered with a look she well-remembered.

Shaw shifted his face toward hers and he set his mouth near her lips.

“I have always been enchanted by ye.” He kissed her all-too-briefly.

When he pulled away, Sorsha fingered her lips and teetered on her feet, completely captivated by him. “We shall do well together, Shaw. I vow to be a good wife for you.”

“There is no other woman’s heart I desire more than yours.”