Page 13 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 13

The blood was still thrumming through James’ veins as he finally made it to the kirk.

He walked through the crowds, the memory of Maisie on his tongue, desperate for all this pomp and ceremony to be over so he could try to persuade her into his bed.

He had been worried that their activities had made them incredibly late, but the number of people that needed to be seated had delayed things considerably. He walked into the rear door, the church still bustling with activity. Harris approached him.

“Ye took yer time, m’laird, I thought ye might have been havin’ second thoughts.”

“I had matters to attend to,” James replied shortly, and his man-at-arms gave him a knowing look before he followed him to the front of the church.

As he walked through the many familiar faces, James saw Lillian beside Marcus a few rows back from the front of the kirk. He had not seen the girl since the contest, and he could not imagine she was particularly happy to be here. Tradition dictated that she would accompany her aunt and uncle, but he was certain she would rather be anywhere else.

He hoped he had never led her on. He knew she had always seemed keen on him, but he had deliberately kept her at arm’s length as much as possible. Even looking at her now, she was no comparison to Maisie’s fire and defiance. Lillian was so demure, so proper, he could not imagine her ever being as bold as Maisie had been that day.

Best damn game of chess I ever played .

He was glad that he had arrived so soon for only a few short minutes after he reached his position beside the priest, Harris was telling him that the bride was on her way.

He steeled himself for what was to come. The sooner they finished the wedding, the sooner he could be joined with Maisie.

The ceremony was a blur of ritual and formality. There were so many faces in the crowd, and very few that Maisie knew well.

She had little choice but to focus on James. He was not as emotionless as he had been during the contest, but he was certainly playing the part of a laird in front of his people. He did not smile more than once when he addressed the priest, and for much of the ceremony, his brow was furrowed.

Only when their hands were bound, and they looked at one another for the final time did she see any warmth in his gaze.

She was not too proud to admit that after what they had shared in his bedroom, she was feeling shaken.

Is this what I should expect from our marriage? A husband who continually changes his skin, depending on who is watching?

It seemed absurd that this was the same man who had looked at her with such heat only an hour before.

“I now pronounce ye man and wife!”

The entire kirk cheered behind them, and James turned to her. Only then did she see him grin for the first time—but not for her—he joked and waved with the congregation, greeting people in the crowd from his clan. He treated them with far more affection than he had ever done to her.

The clan escorted them back to Dunroven in a sprawling parade, a whirlwind of flags and banners waving against the backdrop of pealing bells and singing.

The two of them rode in an open carriage while the crowds congratulated and wished the happy couple well.

Are we a happy couple? She wondered. I am not even sure which version of him I have wed.

After several hours of feasting, it was finally time to leave the festivities and retire for the night.

Maisie bid farewell to her father, who would be leaving first thing in the morning to return to Glasgow. James accompanied her, standing behind her dutifully as she embraced her father, holding back her tears.

“I am so proud of ye,” he whispered. “I shall write and let ye ken how things have gone, but I am hopeful, Maisie.”

“I love ye, Da,” she said softly, and he simply nodded his head, as he always did. A kind smile curled across his features until he backed away, turning to James.

“Ye take care of me wee girl,” he said, surprising Maisie with the force of his words. Her father’s eyes were all polite indifference, but there was a hardness there too. “She is me only child, and me pride and joy.”

Maisie’s throat was tight. James stood forward extending a hand.

“I shall, Mr. Brown, she will be well looked after.”

Maisie caught a strange expression in her father’s face then, perhaps sorrow?

‘She will be well cared for’ , is hardly a glowing endorsement for a loving partnership.

Her father nodded, giving one last final glance at Maisie before James placed his hand on her lower back and led her from the room.

As soon as the door was shut behind her, she felt a shudder of anticipation and nerves rush through her. Despite their agreement, she was not sure if James would abide by her rule, especially now that it was their wedding night.

Part of her wished that he wouldn’t and would take the decision out of her hands, having her as he wanted and giving her more of the pleasure she had glimpsed earlier that day.

Another part was scared to get too close to him.

Nothin’ good will come from pinin’ after a man who will never be with ye.

Was she pining after him? She craved more of the sensations he’d roused within her, but she wasn’t sure she even liked the man!

He led her up the stairs to her room, but they bypassed it, going straight to his bedroom. She bit her lip as he opened the door waiting for her to step inside, trying to tamp down the nervous energy that was running through her.

James clicked the door shut behind him. Maisie eyed him nervously. Her lips were still haunted by their kiss that afternoon. If he kissed her that passionately again, just how was she ever to resist him?

“Ye are mine, now,” James said, slowly taking off his jacket, his gaze black in the dim candlelight. His eyes had the same animalistic quality in them that she had seen before. She began to tremble uncontrollably.

He looked huge as he stood before her, the léine against his chest falling open to expose the golden skin of his torso. His large hands hung at his sides as he took a step forward, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he did so.

“Have ye reconsidered yer terms?” he asked, his voice low and menacing in the silence of the room.

She shivered. “What dae ye mean?”

“Yer conditions were that we slept in separate rooms. Ye are here now, are ye plannin’ on holdin’ to that?”

Maisie’s eyes flitted to the door that she knew led to her room through the narrow corridor.

“Ye said that this would be a marriage of convenience,” he added.

“Aye, as did ye.”

“But I won the game.”

Maisie’s heart drummed wildly in her chest. “Ye did nae such thing.”

“Prove it,” he said, with a glance toward the chess pieces still scattered across the floor.

“I’d have taken yer king in three moves,” she insisted as he finally reached her, his hands falling to her waist as he looked down at her.

“I dinnae think so, lass,” he grunted. “I am owed the pleasure ye promised me,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “and ye screamed so loud earlier, I believe I am challenged to make the next even louder.”

She was trembling so violently he must have been able to feel it as his hands tightened on her waist.

“Y—ye said ye wouldnae touch me until I begged ye.”

“Aye,” he mused, “but I have already touched ye, and ye begged me then.”

Maisie’s cheeks flushed crimson as she remembered her desperation as his tongue had moved inside her— please don’t stop.

She backed away, but he followed her, she looked around for an escape but there was none to be had.

Her shoulder hit the high back of a chair, and she was pinned in place. His arms bracketed on either side of her, his eyes glistening with a feral light that she both craved and feared.

“Ye asked me about me pleasure earlier, lass,” he said, and she gasped as his long, thick fingers gripped her wrist. She looked down between them as he pulled her hand to his kilt and pressed it firmly against the solid mass beneath.

She looked up at him—agape with need and the impropriety of the act.

He smiled a wicked smile. “Can ye feel what ye dae to me?” he said, rocking his hips against her hand so that she could feel the length moving against her fingers. “I have ne’er wanted a woman more, and that’s the truth.”

Her eyes were still staring at her hand as a foreign pleasure built within her. She wanted to please him, as he had pleased her.

Slowly, her fingers released him, but he still had hold of her wrist. She looked up, and whatever he saw in her eyes made him give another slow smile. Without warning, he pushed her hand beneath his kilt where her flesh touched his.

“Och,” she exclaimed as he closed his eyes, his head falling backward.

“Touch me,” he commanded, and she had no choice but to obey. Uncertain of her movement at first but taking her cues from him, she watched her fingers touching his flesh as the sight gave her an unexpected shock of pleasure. The quiet of the room was punctuated by his shuddering breaths as his hips began to move in tandem with her.

“Does it feel good?” she asked. His head snapped up to look back at her, his eyes black with suppressed need. In a moment, he had bent double, pushing his arm about her waist and scooping her onto his shoulder.

She shrieked briefly before he tossed her on the bed and stood before her, a towering mountain of a man. He was ready to take her, just as he had told her he would.

“Aye, it feels good, lass, dae ye want to see how good?”

She was lost for words as he gripped the folds of her dress and tugged her to the edge of the bed.

“Did I say that ye looked beautiful today?” he asked. Maisie tried not to take the words to heart, but something about them struck a chord and she gave a soft smile.

“Nae, ye didnae.”

“Ye were the most breathtakin’ bride I ever saw,” he said, and she felt hope bloom in her chest until—“I couldnae think of anythin’ but gettin’ ye out of this bonnie dress.”

Is that all he wants? Is this all that it will ever be between us?

His hands were at her ankles, dispensing with her shoes in an instant and running greedily over her legs. He stared down at her figure hungrily. It scattered her thoughts, and the doubts and concerns melted away as his calloused fingers brushed against her inner thighs.

“I’ve dreamt of yer body since the first time I saw ye.”

Maisie gasped in shock as he flipped her onto her front, lying over her to unlace her dress. She felt the fabric rip as he pulled it down over her shoulders, leaving her lying in her nightgown as he threw the dress carelessly behind him.

He flipped her back to face him, pulling her up and looking into her eyes, a question in the depths of them.

“I want ye, and I intend to have ye, I’ll worship ye as ye should be worshipped. Unless ye tell me nae this instant, I am goin’ to bed ye, and make ye scream me name.”

Maisie felt all the fight drain out of her. She had no more strength left to resist this man. His strong arms felt like they were holding her above the real world. This room seemed like another place entirely, where she didn’t have to make choices about her future or care what he truly thought of her.

Now, all she could feel was his body against her, his breath in her ears, his scent enveloping her like a shroud. She wanted him just as deeply as he seemed to want her.

“Then take me,” she whispered.

He gave a feral growl as he dropped her back on the bed and her legs fell open as he pushed the nightgown up and over her body. His eyes roamed over her skin as he did it. When he pulled it over her head, he stood back to stare at her. If he hadn’t looked at her with such banked-up greedy lust, she might have felt shy that she was fully naked while he remained clothed.

“Ye are the greatest temptation I have ever kent,” he said as he lowered himself over her, his mouth licking at her neck as his hands caressed her breast before fondling it. His thumb and forefinger pinched the peak, making Maisie jolt as a strange pulse of electric pleasure-pain sparked from the site of it.

As he stormed up the bed to capture her mouth she moaned softly as his tongue met hers. She shuddered and pulled him toward her as he?—

There was a heavy knock on the door.

James froze above her as he pulled away, looking back at the door.

“It isnae a good time!” he shouted.

“Me laird, my apologies, but this is urgent.”

Maisie watched as the mask of the laird fell back into place, and she fell back against the mattress as he released her unceremoniously and crawled off the bed, righting his clothes.

Awkward, and feeling horribly exposed, she pulled a blanket over her body, wanting to hide herself away.

“That’s Bram’s voice,” he explained, as though it warranted his behavior. “Somethin’ must be wrong.”

He quickly walked to the door and had a murmured conversation with the man there. She couldn’t discern a single word, but her body was thrumming with abandoned need and desire.

At last, James stormed back in, not giving her a single glance as he dug through the pile of clothes and grabbed his jacket.

“James? What’s goin’ on?” Maisie asked, sitting back up to her knees.

“There’s a riot in one of the villages—it’s bad,” James said, still avoiding her eyes.

“But—” she went to ask.

“It’ll have to wait,” he said sternly, all trace of softness gone.

The chill in the air and the chill in her thoughts stiffened her body. It was as though she were looking at a completely different man. He had been so tender, so soft, so wanting, and now he was a beast again.

“But—”

She saw him gather himself together with a momentous effort. He looked up at the ceiling and then back at her with what could have been remorse but might simply have been exasperation.

“I ken what I said, Maisie, but this is clan business. I cannae stay here, nae under the circumstances.”

She said nothing, feeling cold all over. Perhaps he did have to go, but the clinical manner in which he was leaving made her feel dirty. He had exposed her in more ways than one and then thrown her aside when duty came calling.

He hasnae even said he is sorry.

“This is what I have to dae.”

Without so much as a backward glance, he donned his jacket and left the room. For a short while, she heard low murmuring just outside the door, and then all was silent.

And there Maisie sat, naked and cold, abandoned by the one man she would have to come to rely on more than any other in the world. Hot tears stung her eyes.

“Curse ye, James MacLennan,” she sobbed as she curled up around her pillow and cried herself to sleep.