Fourteen

 

She gasped and fought her way free of slumber. She ended up sitting up too fast, startling her lover.

A curse split the darkness, and she was instantly wrapped in a steel grip, one that compressed her body, but she enjoyed it so greatly, she felt like shouting.

“Tor—” That hand that had been so dear a moment ago now sealed every last sound behind it. He pushed her back into the bed, his greater weight making it impossible to resist. Her mind was suddenly sharp and keen, the last of slumber evaporating as her back was pressed deeply against the bedding.

It was Torin…

Doubt surfaced to nip at her. The room was pitch-black because she had closed the shutters. She suddenly realized why Torin slept with his open, so that even when the coals died down there was light. A man like him wouldn’t risk being blind, even when he slept.

“Hush, lass. I sneaked in here and don’t want any company save yer own.”

She made a soft sound that filtered through his hand. It wasn’t really an attempt at speaking; she was too full of emotion for that.

“Aye, lass, and I’m happy to see ye as well.”

He was gone a moment later, disappearing into the darkness as if he’d been summoned from her dreams. Shannon sat up, trying to force her eyes to find some trace of him, willing him to materialize once more.

“Torin?”

Her voice sounded too loud in the room, but she couldn’t take not knowing if it had been a dream. Could she have wanted him there so badly, her mind convinced her that he was with her? Was her mind broken as she had feared it would become? If so, she would gladly place her hand into insanity’s so long as it brought her back to Torin’s embrace.

A thin sparkle of silver moonlight cut through the blackness. Just the width of her finger and then two and then her entire hand. The night was cloudy, but the light poured into the room in direct contrast to the blackness between the walls of the chamber. It illuminated the man from her dreams, showing him to her and drawing another whimper from her lips.

He made a slashing motion with his hand, and Shannon clamped her fingers across her lips. He opened the other side of the shutter before walking back toward her. He paused and listened for a long moment before untying his sheath and propping it next to the bed. He sat down, and the bed gave beneath his weight. That little confirmation of his realness set tears into her eyes. He leaned over, and she heard the snap of leather while he worked the lacings on his boots free. He stood back up and pulled the tail end of his belt free and tugged on it until she heard the metal prong that kept it secure pop free.

His kilt slithered down, but he caught it with a practiced motion and laid it on the table. Every step was silent. It was as if he truly were part of the night. He pulled his shirt over his head and stood perfectly at ease in nothing but his skin. He was the man she’d first seen standing atop the boulder in the loch, his hair resting on the back of his shoulders and the moonlight casting him in silver.

Shannon shivered. Not from fear or cold, but because she knew he was coming to bed to couple with her. Her gaze drifted down, seeking out the proof of what she suspected, and found his cock standing erect. She shuddered next, the motion too violent to be called a shiver. He watched her, silently observing her while she drank in the sight of him.

But he was too far away for how much she had longed for him.

Shannon rose onto her knees and tugged her undergown up and over her head. She tossed it toward the foot of the bed, caring little about where it landed. Her attention was on her lover. She lifted her arms in invitation, beckoning him toward her.

Torin moved the moment her hands stretched out toward him, his body flowing in motion that was the perfect blending of power and control. He caressed her face with the back of his hand before clasping the sides of her head. Her memories were poor substitutions for the way his touch actually felt. Her heart beat faster, and the night air became soothing instead of biting. Passion’s flame licked along her skin to warm her, but her lover was warmer still, and she longed to press against him. The world was too ugly, the palace a horrible place. Torin was her sanctuary.

“Ye truly came.”

He joined her on the bed, pressing tiny kisses on each cheek before pausing to inhale the scent of her hair. A shiver raced down her spine because no words of praise would ever convince her that she was attractive more than such actions did. It was in the way he touched her, his fingertips gliding across her skin, slowly and without rushing. He didn’t hurry toward sinking his erection into her just because she had invited him into her arms. That was what made him her lover.

“I’m a Highland barbarian. I cannae be allowing anyone to take what I’ve already stolen.”

She tried to bite one of his fingers in response. It was a slow motion, one that never had a hope of success. But Torin allowed her to sink her teeth into one hand, a light nip that sent his lips curving up.

“Ah, there is my Lowland wildcat.”

She pressed a kiss against the spot she’d bitten and another and yet another, until she was making her way up his arm and across his wide shoulder. She kissed the hard ridges of muscle and then the firm column of his neck before touching her lips against his jaw. She slid her hands into his hair, conscious of the fact that he was waiting on her, remaining still when there was nothing to stop him from claiming her as he would. That made it all the more tender.

“Kiss me, Shannon, for it cost me a fortune to bribe the guard at yer door.”

His voice was a bare whisper, but it fit the moment. Lifting herself up, she found his mouth with her own and did as he commanded. Torin followed, allowing her to lead the kiss. She pushed at his lips, and he opened his mouth. She sent the tip of her tongue out to lick along his bottom lip and felt him shudder.

His control broke. His arms pulled her against him and bound her in place. One hand threaded through her hair to cradle the back of her head, further imprisoning her.

Yet she was a willing captive, surrendering completely to his kiss. He demanded and she complied, moaning softly with delight as his mouth moved over hers. His tongue teased her lower lip before thrusting into her mouth. Pleasure flowed down her body until it reached her belly, where hunger began to burn.

Her hands were no longer content to move slowly. She ached to touch him. Every part of him. She pressed herself toward his body, her breasts flattening against his harder chest. His cock sprung up, hard and promising between them.

“I do nae want to wait.”

“Nor do I, lass. I swear it seems far too long since I held ye.”

His hand cupped the two halves of her bottom and lifted her up. The head of his cock probed the folds of her sex, seeking out the opening to her passage. Torin let her down slowly, and her knees slid over his hips, spreading her thighs wider. His cock found its target, finding her flesh wet and willing. Shannon wrapped her hands around his shoulders, but she was impatient, her body yearning for complete intimacy.

“More, Torin.”

“Exactly what I have planned, lass.” His hard length began filling her. Desperation began to pound through her, making her shake with anticipation. Everything moved too slowly, and she whimpered once again.

A low growl was Torin’s reply. He thrust upward, giving her the last of his length. She didn’t have time to demand that he begin moving. Torin lifted up off his knees and pressed her back against the bed. The bed wasn’t as sturdy as the one in his room. It shook, the curtains dancing.

But Shannon had no attention to give to such things. Her focus was directly on the man pressing her down. He gave her enough of his weight to make sure she remained beneath him. His hands pulled at her hair to lock her head in place, and buried deep inside her, his cock was rigid and throbbing with need.

“I swear ye will wed me, Shannon McBoyd, or I will not let ye off your back until ye bend to my will. I cannae exist without ye.”

His hips moved, drawing his cock up and out of her before plunging down with a hard thrust that shook the bed once again. It forced the breath from her lungs, too much sensation rushing through her to contain. Torin covered her mouth with one hand, smothering the sounds she made.

“Hush, sweet Shannon, we would nae want to be interrupted just now.”

There was a wicked edge to his tone, one that sparked more excitement in her belly. She bit him once again, causing him to jerk his hand away out of surprise.

“Then kiss me.”

“With pleasure, lass.”

There was more than enough pleasure for both of them. Torin fused his mouth on top of hers while his body began to pump against hers. She lifted her hips to take each thrust, his hard flesh sliding against her clitoris each time. The pleasure was intense, and it refused to be controlled. She became frantic, lifting faster and pressing harder against her partner. Her hands dug into his upper arms, her fingernails cutting into his skin, but all Torin did was snarl against her lips. Their kiss ended because they were both focused on the actions of their lower bodies. Torin buried his mouth against her hair, and she pressed her face to the warm skin of his neck.

Rapture tore them away, each fighting to contain their cries. The bed shook as Torin rode her hard through the burst of pleasure, his own breaking a few strokes later. His seed drew a second unleashing of delight from her, making her gasp in surprise. Her body straining up to catch every last drop of his offering, she felt it burning into the walls of her passage and shook with enjoyment. They both collapsed onto the bed, their breathing rough, satisfaction spreading a warm glow over them.

***

“Lundy will nae be pleased that you plan to wed.”

Shannon kept her voice low, still fearing that their sanctuary might be shattered. She felt Torin stiffen, the hand gently smoothing her arm stopping.

“Ye’re right about that, lass. It almost makes me want to have the man in church when we take our vows.” There was no missing the frustration in his tone, although he tried to hide it by grinding his teeth together.

Shannon pushed her hand against the bedding to rise enough to see his face. The moon granted her only a sprinkling of silver to make out his expression.

“My McBoyd blood will give him more reason to raise his voice against ye. We should nae wed.”

He growled, a soft sound that betrayed how deeply he felt about the matter. A second later he flipped her onto her back, capturing her wrists and pressing them onto the surface of the bed. Her breath froze in her chest because he had never treated her so while they were intimate. She felt like his prisoner, and she strained against his hold, but he kept her pinned, allowing helplessness to sink into her.

“Stop it, Torin. Ye are being a brute.”

The grip around her wrists increased, threatening her with pain. He lowered his body until his weight felt crushing.

“I may have brought ye to Donan Tower tied around me, Shannon, but I never forced ye into my bed.”

He blew out a harsh sound before rolling back onto his back. The bed shook when he landed. Shannon was suddenly alone. The night air carried his warmth away from her quickly.

“I am correct, and ye know it, Torin.”

He sighed, sounding tired. He turned and lay over her again, only this time it was a secure hold, light and full of tenderness. His fingers stroked along her jaw.

“I do long for a family, but if I wanted a wife who would bear my children out of duty, I could have contracted a bride years ago.”

She reached up to place her hand against his cheek. “Ye want more.”

He sighed. “I want love. My parents loved one another, and it tormented them to think that I lost position because of their choice, but I swear to ye, Shannon, they were richer than the king for the love they shared. They gave me more than a position; they raised me in a loving home. My father refused the bride his brother found for him, so the girl was given to my father’s half brother. Lundy is their eldest son. When my uncle died without an heir, Lundy argued that his mother’s blue blood made him more rightfully laird of the McLeren. There were many McLerens who agreed.”

“I saw them. It was the first time I felt McLeren colors were being worn by savages.”

“His men are lawless. Keep that in mind when I set Brockton to watching ye.” Torin smoothed his hands through the tiny hairs curling along the edge of her face. “I love ye.”

“And I love—” She clamped her lips closed before the last word crossed them. Torin’s fist hit the bedding next to her.

“Why do ye deny me the words?” His voice was stiff.

“Because if ye stay with me, Lundy will have that much more reason to argue for yer place. I cannot change that I am McBoyd. Ye need a bride who brings ye position to match yer own.”

He smothered a harsh bark of laughter. He buried his head against her throat and kissed the tender skin there. He tipped his head up so that he might whisper in her ear.

“Ye do love me, Shannon, else ye would never fight to protect me. But it is I who will stand as yer protector. Isn’t the fact that I am here proof of that?”

“Did ye truly sneak in here?”

He lifted his face, and the moonlight illuminated an arrogant smirk sitting on his lips. He rolled over, taking her along with him. He pulled up the covers and tucked them over her bare shoulder.

“Ye should sleep while ye can, lass.”

“The earl might still decide to hang me with my father. He said he wanted to think on the matter.”

A low growl shook the chest that pillowed her head. “He no doubt fears the strength of our clans if we wed. That is something I will need to discuss with him.”

“My stepmother is with child. The McBoyd might still have an heir.”

“Best ye hope she births a daughter.”

A shiver rippled over her skin. “I know. The earl told me to go see my father. I went down to the dungeon to see what Archibald Douglas saw fit to give my father and his sons.”

Torin heard the fear clinging to her voice. He ground his teeth together, fighting the urge to dress and challenge Archibald Douglas right then. It was a torment to listen to fear in her voice and to know that she did not fall into slumber because she wondered if the remaining hours of the night were her last. He wanted to protect her from that, and storming into the lieutenant general’s chambers was not the way to begin a successful campaign.

But he would prevail. Torin watched the horizon turn pink and then golden, all the while holding his beloved close.

He would see victory, or he’d give Lundy what the man craved… his own death.

***

“Enough, Lundy McLeren.”

The Earl of Bothwell, lieutenant general of Scotland, glared at Lundy McLeren.

“I’ve heard all I need to from ye. She’s a female, and it would nae be the first time the daughter was spared as long as she was wed to a man who would keep her under control.”

“But—”

“The lieutenant general told you that he has heard enough.” Joan Beaufort emerged from her seat behind the large tapestry. Lundy McLeren’s face turned red when she glided up and refused to leave him in privacy with Douglas. She narrowed her eyes.

“I am also regent of this country, sir, and I tell you that alone means you shall be finished. I agree that they would be a good match and that their union would bring peace.”

“But she is the daughter of a traitor!” Lundy shouted.

“Leave, Lundy.” It was the earl who spoke, and his guards stepped forward to enforce his will.

There was nothing else the man might do. He sent a fuming glare at the earl, but when he gained no decree to remain, the guards stepped farther toward him. He stomped from the room, and the door shut calmly behind him because the men stationed at the doors had been raised in the palace. High emotions were not unusual. They performed their duties with patience and diligence, whether the matter was grave or not.

“Ye will remember yer place, Joan, or I’ll have ye sent to tour the northern country. With a full contingent of my men to see to yer protection along the way, of course.”

The queen lowered herself, gaining a brief grunt of approval from Douglas.

“His repetition was becoming difficult to stomach. I meant to help.”

“It is the lairds of this country who need uniting. Lundy stands to become one of them. Offending him is nae in our interests.”

Joan moved slowly away from Bothwell. She was walking over dangerous ground, but the arrogance in the man encouraged her. Men always thought themselves so intelligent; sometimes a woman needed to best them. Even if she must do so by being clear and crafty, so as not to allow them to notice that she was gaining what she desired.

“If you give him what he wants, when he becomes laird, he will think he can bend you to his will anytime he argues with you.”

Bothwell stood up, his face reflecting his rage.

“Ye have a point there, one I do nae care for.”

Joan lifted her eyelashes to stare straight at him. “But if ye allow Torin McLeren to keep Shannon McBoyd, the McBoyd will most likely settle down to planting instead of feuding.”

Douglas narrowed his eyes and turned pensive.

“Ye hide behind yer demure behavior very well, madam.”

“I am a woman. That is my place. But I listen a great deal, and Torin McLeren has powerful friends in Quinton Cameron and Connor Lindsey. Lundy McLeren annoys more men than he impresses.”

“Maybe, but then again, Lundy will do anything I ask of him, so long as I give him what he wants.”

“If you keep Torin McLeren happy, you will have a good force to call upon when you need it, because he will have a happy home that you allowed him to build with your mercy.”

The earl sneered at her. “What I should do is send ye on that tour. Ye are regent in name only, madam. Do nae advise me on matters of state.”

Lowering herself, she forced her revulsion down to a place where Archibald wouldn’t be able to see it. She detested the man so very much, but the lairds of Scotland would not follow her.

“I’ll leave you to thinking the matter through.”

“Aye, ye do that.”

Joan walked from the receiving room, her heart aching for her husband even more, because of who sat in his chair now. But she would not let her son be displaced; that was her duty now. She would pray for Shannon McBoyd; it was all she might do. Bothwell would hang her or not, depending on his mood.

Curse and rot the man. Someday soon he’d face the justice he so richly deserved.

But that would come far too late for Shannon McBoyd.

She was at his mercy.

***

Shannon looked up when someone rapped on the door. Torin crossed his arms over his chest and watched the door.

Quinton Cameron came through the door with Connor Lindsey pushing him. Cameron froze when he got a glimpse of Torin. The retainers guarding the door both looked stunned. Shannon turned to look at Torin.

“Ye really did sneak in here?”

“Well, not alone, he didna.” Connor sent her a wink before he turned and tossed a coin toward the retainers. One of them caught it and held it up for inspection. The two men shrugged and shut the doors without a sound.

Connor smirked. “Their orders are to keep ye in here.”

Cameron grinned. “Aye, well now we’re all in here together. I fear the lass’s reputation will nae survive.”

Shannon frowned but didn’t let the man’s teasing bother her. That little flame of hope that had begun to flicker when Torin appeared gained strength when she looked at the three lairds. They represented some of the most powerful clans in Scotland.

Connor suddenly turned deadly serious.

“We’ve business, lads.”

***

Archibald Douglas was the fifth Earl of Bothwell. There were relations in the man’s family who disputed his claim to the title. He enjoyed power, and becoming lieutenant general appeared to suit him. Torin studied the man as the wide doors were opened by his servants. The Earl of Bothwell knew how to intimidate well; he sat with his back leaning against the chair while Torin was announced.

He sat on a raised dais that was covered with a lavish Persian rug. The chair he made himself so comfortable in was a throne. It was carved lavishly and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Behind him, tapestries were hung from the ceiling to complete the regal setting. The only thing missing was a crown.

But the man didn’t truly need that when the royal guards stood on either side of the dais. The dowager queen sat behind him on her own dais, and young King James II was nowhere in sight.

“This is a foul bit of business with the McBoyd, Laird McLeren.”

Archibald Douglas didn’t sound sorry. Torin inclined his head before staring the man straight back in the eye.

“I never thought it anything but that, my lord. It was my clan that brought ye the proof in this plot.”

The Earl of Douglas fingered the large ruby ring that sat on his fourth finger. The thing was worth a fortune, but it was also a symbol of his position in Scotland now. James II was seven years old. He was king in name only; it was Douglas who would rule, so long as he was able to watch his back.

“Laird McBoyd will hang at sunset, along with his sons. Every last one of them shook hands with Atholl and raided yer holding of White Hill.”

It was a kinder death than Torin expected for the traitors. Archibald drew a stiff breath.

“It’s time to finish it. I’ll leave the torture to the English. I’ll send the priest to them and march them off to the gallows the moment they’re finished confessing.”

“They’d best make a good job of that.”

Douglas spit on the floor. The two large hounds sitting at his feet didn’t even flinch; obviously they were accustomed to their master’s habits.

“Ye have my thanks and that of the dowager queen, Laird McLeren. Yer loyalty is truly proven.”

“I want it rewarded.”

Archibald Douglas gripped the ends of his armrests, his fingers closing around the carved wood until they turned white.

“I’ll reward whom I choose, Laird McLeren. As laird of yer clan, ye owe loyalty to the true king. Such does no’ require rewards.”

“What I want shouldn’t be here at all. I took Shannon McBoyd, and she is mine.”

The earl chuckled, an unfriendly sound that made his dogs perk up their ears.

“And it was my authority that took her away from ye.”

Torin felt his teeth grinding against each other. “My men know whom to respect, and I’ll remind ye that I came to ye instead of settling my score with the McBoyds as most of my men wanted.”

“Or what? Ye will side with yer men and nae respect my authority?” The earl leaned forward, his face darkening. “Mind yer words, McLeren. There’s plenty of room at the gallows for another rope.”

Torin smiled at the earl, which sent the man back in his chair.

“That will leave ye Lundy as Laird McLeren. If ye would rather have that sniveling whelp helping to watch yer back, send me yer priest.”

Douglas suddenly chuckled. He slapped the arm of his chair while his dogs stood up and began pacing around his feet.

“I would have sworn that Lundy lied to me, but ye do love her.” The earl laughed some more before drawing in a deep breath. “Ye poor fool.”

Torin only shrugged. “It is something I’ll nae argue against, but I find it a pleasant affliction to have. If ye plan to hang Shannon McBoyd, expect to see me standing beside her.”

Douglas sobered.

“I should send the priest to ye for those words alone, but ye are right about me no’ wanting that cousin of yers leading the McLeren. Lundy will make a pissy laird, who will whine endlessly when he isn’t acting like a king in his own right.”

Torin glared back at the man, refusing to cower. “I want Shannon McBoyd. I stole her and had her first. She belongs to me.”

“Ye’ve got courage, man; maybe foolish courage, but it is there.”

“Stop toying with me, Douglas.” Men had died for less-forceful tones in this same room. Torin didn’t care. “A Highlander keeps what he steals. The Douglas know that tradition well. I’m going to wed her and watch her belly grow round with my child.”

“Her father will enjoy knowing that, but ye are right that a Highlander is entitled to the woman he stole.” The earl snapped his fingers, and there was a rustle of fabric. Shannon appeared in the next moment, her face bright with temper. But she held her tongue, biting into her lower lip to remain silent.

“Go on with ye, girl.”

She looked at the floor to avoid telling him what she thought of his making a gift out of her, but she walked across the distance between them, sending relief through Torin. He clasped his fingers around her wrist and felt her tremble. The earl studied her for a moment.

“Go on, McLeren. Never forget that I have paid the debt I owe ye. Insult me again, and I’ll give ye that hanging ye just asked for.”

“I’ll remember both things, my lord.”

Torin offered the earl a quick nod of his head and a slightly longer one for the queen before he turned and pulled Shannon from the room with him. She tried to jerk her wrist from his hold the moment the throne-room doors closed behind them. He tugged her behind a tapestry instead, setting her back against the wall. He lifted her up and pushed her mouth open with his.

Shannon pushed at Torin’s shoulders. The man didn’t move, did not make any motion that indicated that he felt her squirming in his hold. Instead he kissed her, hard and without mercy.

It was perfection.

She wanted to melt against him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, trying to absorb the fact that he was real. Her lips clung to his, moving in unison and kissing him back with every bit of anxiety that had tormented her.

“Torin… I need to catch my breath…” Her heart was hammering so hard, it threatened to burst through her chest.

“No, ye just want to argue with me for saying that ye belong to me.” He pressed another kiss against her mouth, following her when she tried to pull her head away. She finally pushed herself up, above his reach, by flattening her palms on top of his shoulders.

Torin snarled softly at her, using his hands to pull her back down.

“I swear I’ll spank yer arse if ye say one word in argument.”

He meant it too. Shannon placed her fingers over his lips, delicately tracing them while she drew in the breath her racing heart needed.

“Ye scared the life out of me by asking to be hung.” To maintain her composure, she smothered a sob that broke through her resolve. “I swear I cannae bear such a thought. I’ll be yer mistress. Ye need to please yer clan and marry an heiress with blue blood.”

“Ye’ll be my wife.”

She shook her head, biting back the shout of joy that she wanted to give. He suddenly let out a curse that shocked her with how dark it was.

“Ye will wed me, Shannon.” He spit out another curse before framing her face with his hands.

“But I’m nae with child, Torin. I’m sorry, but I know I am not.”

“I do nae care. I love ye, woman, and ye will marry me. It will bring peace to all but Lundy and his followers. I refuse to spend my life trying to please him.”

He tried to press another kiss against her mouth, but Shannon flattened her hand against his mouth once more. Her heart was full of happiness and devastated too.

“Ye will lose too much by wedding me. I won’t allow you to do that. Yer love is enough. I swear I will never grow discontented, even when ye bring home a bride.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled it gently away from his mouth.

“What I must have is ye, sweet Shannon. God has blessed me with a woman I love; we’ll nae be greedy by debating the matter further. Swear that ye will wed me.”

“I cannae. Ye must think of ensuring that Lundy does nae gain more favor among the McLeren.”

He growled and pulled her away from the wall. With a hand wrapped around her wrist, Torin took her down the hallway and into the receiving room. Conversation flowed softly from the nobility waiting there. Music filtered down from the musicians playing in the alcoves, and then Laird Torin McLeren knelt on one knee in front of her.

“Will ye become my wife, Shannon McBoyd?”

Her heart froze, and the conversation died. Silence surrounded them; even the music stopped. Torin had spoken loudly enough to have his voice bounce off the walls, and everyone waited to hear her reply.

It was gallant beyond compare. Her protests died in the face of his public declaration. How great a love must it be to see him embracing it when she brought him nothing but her own love in return. Nothing but herself. It was the stuff that legends were written about, and her heart swelled with it.

“Yes.”

Soft applause filled the room. The musicians played a fanfare, but most importantly of all, Torin pushed back up to tower over her with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

“Ye are arrogant, Laird McLeren.”

He shrugged and renewed his grasp around her wrist. Connor Lindsey appeared next to his friend, looking every bit as smug.

“Aye, lass, and a barbarian, I hear.”

Torin aimed a look at his friend. “I learned everything I know from ye.”

“Glad to hear ye admit it. Now are ye getting married or no’?”

The grip on her wrist tightened. “I’m getting married.”

“Good. I want to kiss the bride first.” Connor Lindsey stepped right between them and clasped her face between his hands. A second later the man kissed her. It was no sweet salute of her mouth, but a full kiss between a man and woman. Connor Lindsey stole her breath, for the man knew more than his fair share about how to kiss. She finally shoved him away and felt her cheeks burn when he chuckled at her. He winked before turning to smirk at Torin.

“Better get to it, before I steal her.”

“Not before I get my turn to kiss the bride.”

Quinton Cameron looped a hard arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. His kiss was unique, just like the man, and he gave her no mercy, demanding a deep kiss just as Connor had. He spun her back toward Torin, and she heard Torin’s chest rumble with a growl. His friends smirked, but Torin held her tightly, and that was what mattered most. Quinton raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, lad, if ye move too slowly, I might be tempted to get the lass to the church before ye.”

Torin renewed his grip on her wrist and shot her a look full of excitement.

“Shall we, lass?”

“We shall.” Torin took off at a run through the hallways. His boots echoed between the stone walls along with her laughter. They ran like children… They ran like lovers.

***

The gloom of early spring gave way to bright weather. It warmed her face while they traveled back toward McLeren land. Her husband looked ready to burst with pride, but Shannon was too happy to take issue with him. She caught him watching her and felt her cheeks heat. If the man never told her he loved her again, she would not question his feelings, because they were there in every glance he sent her way.

They climbed higher into the hills, and the heather was blooming now. Shannon grinned when they sighted the towers of Donan Tower.

“Why are ye still calling it Donan Tower? It is a castle.”

Torin tilted his head to one side. “Well now, lass, I suppose I should have expected that ye would begin changing things now that we are wed.”

She scoffed at him. “Well, husband, far be it for me to mention to ye that there are three towers, and that clearly makes a castle.”

He shrugged. “We’re working as fast as the weather permits on the fourth one, lass. Ye’ll just have to wait for it.”

He smirked at her, clearly in the mood to tease her.

“But ye still want to call it Donan Tower?”

“I want ye to call it home.”

He leaned across the space between them and hooked an arm around her body. With a smothered cry, she found herself pulled over to his horse in a tangle of her gowns. Shannon clung to him as the ground felt like it was spinning beneath them, but Torin never faltered; he held her firmly in front of him while they entered the village. People were outside, working the newly plowed fields. The blacksmith was busy, the clang from his hammer filling the air. Women looked up from the bank of the river where they were washing laundry, lifting their hands to shade their eyes so that they might see who was on the road.

They rode onto the bridge and heard the bell in the church begin tolling. This time it was a welcome sound, ringing in happiness that the laird was returning. Once they passed the raised gate, they heard a cheer from the men gathered along the curtain walls to view them.

“My wife!”

They sent up a louder cheer; this one startled several birds off the rooftops. Baeth squalled like a girl from where she stood at the top of the stairs. Shannon turned to look at her husband’s face.

“’Tis only home so long as ye are here.” She watched his eyes glimmer with satisfaction and tenderness, and, more importantly, love.

“But ’tis still a castle, as any right-minded soul could tell ye.”

***

Shannon knelt next to her trunk with only a single candle to illuminate the dark chamber that she’d first been given. The room was quiet now, as though it were waiting for something or someone to come and breathe life into it once more.

That would not happen tonight.

Shannon lifted the lid, the leather hinges creaking in the silence. Very little was inside. She reached for her folded arisaid, which had been sitting on the table in Torin’s chamber just as she’d left it. Running her fingers over the scarlet and blue threads, she stared at them before sighing.

Her father was dead, and his sons too. She couldn’t even lament their passing from this life, because she honestly felt that they might be more content now that their positions of earthly life were removed. Her stepmother would be. Fate was being kind to the child bride her father had taken to gain a rich dowry. Word had arrived that her stepmother had birthed a daughter. That little girl was the most welcome girl baby in all of Scotland, for she would be allowed to live and maybe someday restore honor to the McBoyd name.

Shannon placed the McBoyd colors in the trunk. She closed the lid, sealing them in darkness. For now, the future belonged to her life with the McLerens. This was her home.

And it was the most wonderful place she might ever have imagined.

A soft step in the doorway drew her attention. Torin stood there, concern etched into his expression. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but she felt his love. His attention moved to the hand she still had lingering on the top of her trunk. He stretched out a hand in invitation.

“Are ye ready, lass? My chamber is too cold without ye.”

She stood up, pinching out the candle before reaching for that hand. His fingers closed around hers, gently, firmly sealing them in a grasp that sent two tears down her face.

“Then I shall warm it for ye, my love.”

***

“Push now, mistress.”

Shannon would have liked to tell Baeth that she hated her, but there was too much pain for her to do anything more than snarl. Her entire body was dripping sweat, and her fingernails dug into the arms of the birthing chair. Looking down, she stared at her swollen belly, still slightly amazed to see herself so round so soon after marrying.

“Push harder.”

“I am pushing hard!” And it felt like her body was ripping open. She felt her baby being forced from her, fighting to be born. The birthing chair made it easy for the child to use gravity to assist in its birth, the wide legs supporting her spread thighs, leaving room for the midwife to crouch between her legs and catch the infant.

“I’ve got it, mistress. Just one more push.”

Shannon bore down and groaned through the final, agonizing contraction. Her child began to wail, sending tears down her cheeks.

“A son, mistress, a strong son for the McLerens.”

Shannon cursed. The midwife and the maids looked shocked to see their mistress using such profanity. But in the next moment they giggled, because birthing rooms were always full of surprises and it didn’t matter if the mother-to-be was high or low.

“But he’s strong and healthy, mistress.”

“I wanted a girl because everyone has been telling me how much Torin needs a son. Well, I’ll decide what I have, nae anyone else. Everyone needs to stop telling me what to do…” She stopped because another contraction went through her; thankfully this one was much milder. “That hurt too much. I hate giving birth.”

But her voice grew softer as she heard the soft cry of her baby. The midwife finished cleaning him and held him up for her to see. Tears flooded her eyes and fell down her cheeks unchecked. She suddenly didn’t understand why she was angry at all. The tension and pain diminished, leaving behind nothing but happiness. Shannon reached for her son with a pleased sob on her lips and fresh tears sliding down her face.

“Oh… look how perfect he is…”

“Does that mean ye are pleased with a son, madam?”

The midwife snorted with disapproval, but Torin didn’t heed her. He walked into the room, in defiance of tradition that dictated he remain behind the door. But his eyes glowed with love, and Shannon didn’t care what anyone else said about the way things were supposed to be done.

“I suppose a son will do, at least until ye give me a daughter.” She fixed him with a hard look. “I want a daughter, so ye’d best just know that now, Torin McLeren. Do nae be surprised when I birth one.”

Her husband chuckled at her. “I shall do my best.”

Maybe it was love that he’d needed, Torin thought as he looked at his son and the woman who had given his son to him. Lundy and his ambition suddenly seemed so funny that he wanted to laugh, but his cousin was not important. Kneeling, he touched his son for the first time.

Love was perfection.