Terri Brisbin - Possessed by the Highlander

But sleep did not come to Marian.

She tossed and turned, feeling every bump in the pallet beneath her. Deep in her heart, grief and anger grew until she could no longer deny that it raged within. The only warning was the burning in her throat and eyes before the tears began pouring out. Marian tugged the end of the blanket up and held it against her mouth to capture any noise that might wake Ciara.

Once the grief was loosed, it would not go quietly back under control. The years of loneliness, the ongoing humiliation, the loss of family and friends broke through and she sobbed at the pain. The worst of it were the feelings that this stranger had caused, feelings that could never be part of her life. Desires and yearnings for a life of her own, buried these last five years, now tore free. For a husband and children.

Some minutes later, when the tempest calmed, Marian turned over and looked at the one thing that had made it all worthwhile. Ciara was the one joy in her life and made every moment of suffering and every lost possibility bearable. Reaching over to smooth her daughter’s hair away from her face, she knew she would bear this sorrow as well.

Iain nodded to the villager to come forward. Leaning over he listened to the man’s words and then sent him on his way with another nod. Turning to his steward, Iain grinned with the smile of the vindicated.

“So, his interest in my sister grows then,” he commented.

“Aye,” Struan answered. “Do you think ‘tis wise not to interfere?”

“The MacLerie’s man has done nothing that needs my intervention, Struan. At least not yet. And especially since not many know she is my sister.”

Struan bowed and moved away, leaving Iain alone. Glancing around the room at the others present, he realized that so much had changed since that terrible night five years before. His brothers had grown, he had inherited the clan leadership from his father and had instituted many changes that were beneficial to them. These negotiations were only one of them.

Still, the guilt that Marian carried the burden of his own actions had weighed on him lately. He’d allowed her to return, hoping that a solution would come to him about her future. None had until just these last days.

The Peacemaker’s interest in her was intriguing. He was not known to turn his attentions from his work while negotiating. He did not seek out the company of women while traveling on his laird’s business. So, the turning of his attentions to any woman was remarkable. That the woman was Iain’s own sister made it even more so.

Iain drank deeply from his cup and thought on the possibilities. A few hours later, as the fire in the hearth burned down to only embers and the chamber emptied around him, he still sat deep in thought.

Duncan listened but could not believe the words he heard. The Robertson’s man had just relinquished his objections to a primary clause in their treaty and given in to Connor’s demands on several other issues as well. They’d made more progress in hours than they had in the days since their arrival there. And if there was a reason, Duncan could see it not.

Still, he found himself pleased by the concessions made so far and he felt the temptation to continue to press for more. If the Robertson was feeling generous, why ever not? When Hamish nodded at him, Duncan knew his friend noticed the same thing.

“…and I have ordered a feast for tomorrow eve to mark our progress,” Iain finished.

“A feast? Pardon my inattention, Iain. A feast on the morrow?” he repeated.

“Aye. Many of my people have voiced an interest in meeting the MacLerie’s emissary and his men, so I thought a feast would give them that opportunity.”

Something in this offer made Duncan prickle with unease. “Truly, Iain, though I, and my men, appreciate this sign of friendship, this will distract us from our purpose.” He turned and looked at the others in the chamber. “Mayhap we should finish our work and celebrate the results then?”

Iain walked to his side and put his arm on Duncan’s shoulder. “I assure you I will not be dissuaded from my purpose in this. We are a few measures from completing the agreements and may even be done by tomorrow eve.”

Duncan recognized defeat, but he also kenned when and when not to argue with a powerful man. With a nod, he acquiesced to the plans.

“Dinna worry so, Duncan,” Iain said as he stepped away and waved his steward out of the chambers. “I will leave you all to your task and you will not be bothered by the preparations.”

But Duncan did worry. He was fighting a battle within himself to keep his own thoughts and attentions on the dozen or so clauses yet to be agreed to and off the woman whose mournful eyes plagued him even now. Hamish approached and he leaned close to hear his words.

“Do ye have some fear or concern over this feast that I should ken aboot, Duncan? Something I should be taking a look at?”

Duncan brought a parchment up in front of them as though pointing something out to his man, but truly to cover their words. “‘Tis not his words, but something in his manner, that is amiss. I cannot give you an exact thing, but…”

Hamish nodded. “I get yer meaning. But I’ve sensed nothing from him that I wouldna—he is nervous aboot the treaty, but no’ more than I would expect.”

“Be alert, Hamish.”

Duncan lowered the parchment back to the table and sat in his chair. “Well, sirs, shall we proceed then and hopefully finish our business in time for the laird’s feast?”

There was a certain amiable air in the chamber as they worked through the rest of the day. Duncan chose to eat in the solar and organize his thoughts and strategies for what he believed would be the final day of negotiating with the Robertsons. Although most issues were resolved, a few important ones remained to discuss.

As was his practice, he walked through his concerns one by one in his thoughts until he was clear on his path. What surprised him, though, was what, or who, waited there in the silence as he cleared his path of actions for the morrow.

Mara filled his thoughts then and through the night and the next day. Unlike any other woman he’d encountered, she presented more questions than she answered. The flush in her cheeks as she rode his horse toward him aroused him more than any woman had in…months. The way she humbled herself to beg him, nay there was no doubt she begged, to turn his attentions elsewhere and spare her and her daughter from any scandal. The false face she presented to the world intrigued him rather than angering him. Mara was a riddle, a puzzle full of twists and turns and unexpected secrets, that called to him.

And he excelled at solving riddles and puzzles.

That thought tugged at him the next day as the keep and village bustled around him, preparing for the feast ordered by its laird. Duncan worked by rote through his tasks, and as he suspected, the final clause stayed just out of reach through the day. They would need to meet on the morrow and finish. Within a sennight, they could all be home in Lairig Dubh.

Now, seated in a place of honor next to Iain, Duncan cast a glance across the crowded hall looking for the one person he’d like most to speak with. Deep inside, he’d known she would not attend, but his damned heart had held on to a spark of hope. ‘Twould most likely be the last time he’d see her and to see her smile and possibly to share a dance would have been a good thing.

He noticed that his men were seated in different parts of the hall, each one involved in some measure of flirting or enjoying some woman’s company and Duncan suspected that his men would be sleeping outside the keep this night. Even Hamish conversed with a woman, though Duncan kenned that Hamish would never stray from his faithfulness to his Margaret. Since all the women seemed to be offering their companionship freely, he had no problems with whoever among his men wanted to accept that.

He drank deeply from the cup in his hand and shook his head. Mayhap that was exactly what he needed tonight? His journey all over Scotland this summer had been long, the negotiations tenuous at times and lengthier than he’d expected, and a night wrapped around a willing and welcoming lass would not be the worst thing he could do.

“Are you looking for someone, Duncan?” Iain asked as he motioned for a servant to fill his cup once more. “Try this mead, one of the villagers makes it and it is the smoothest brew I have ever tasted.”

One mouthful proved Iain’s words true, but Duncan took another to avoid answering the question. It worked for only a few seconds.

“Do you seek someone?”

This time Iain’s voice was pitched lower and seemed to coax a reply from him he did not want to give. But it was there, in his thoughts.

Mara was not there tonight.

He’d searched through the crowd, looking from face to face and she was not there. Something flashed through him—disappointment? Lust? Longing? It must have been written on his face for Iain leaned in closer and spoke.

“I would not have the man upon whose favor the success of our negotiations rests to be unhappy here…or to have any need go unmet, Duncan. Speak her name or say what you need and I will order it done.”

Some insane desire sparked within him at that moment. He wanted to call out her name, call her to him and demand what he wanted from her. The thought of bedding her, peeling off her garments to see what truly lay beneath them and making her blush with the same pleasure that riding his horse had given her was one thing. And the urge to say it and demand it grew so strong, he drank another mouthful of the tasty brew to keep the words from flowing out.

He heard Hamish cough then and knew it for their signal, but his head swam now with thoughts and desires of Mara and the warmth brought by the mead. And again Iain plagued him.

“Well, Peacemaker, what say you? Is there someone that you fancy? Someone I can call to your chambers to offer you a night of pleasure? There are many who would be willing.”

Duncan’s body responded to the words and the offer. His cock hardened as it had when he held Mara in his arms and he’d noticed her ample breasts almost in his hands. That part of him had no indecision in it—it was ready and able for her touch and her taking. All he had to do was speak her name.

“…speak her name,” Iain urged temptingly in a whisper.

He shook his head, grasping the now-empty cup as he fought the battle within. A servant reached over his shoulder and filled the cup. Heat poured through him, but he tossed the mead down and watched as the room swayed before him.

Mara was not here. Mara was the name he wanted to scream.

Mara…had begged him not to.

He knew he could drink all night and not be affected, but this felt different. The villagers seem to melt together as they moved to the music that swirled around him. Tavis waved to him, but Duncan found that his hand did not move fast enough and Tavis had already moved past him when he did raise it.

Waves of heat surrounded him and he knew he needed to get out into the cool night air. Duncan tried to make his legs move, but they would not. The only part of him moving was the hardness between his legs, for it pulsed and throbbed and reminded him of what he really wanted this night.

Mara.

Pushing the hair back from his face, he leaned away from Iain who seemed not to notice the heat at all. Though he moved slowly, Iain’s face twisted and smeared into something not quite a face at all. But his voice never stopped echoing through Duncan’s head.