Terri Brisbin - Taming the Highlander

Tonight.

Darkness had fallen some time ago, yet Connor had not shown himself within the keep. Each time she asked one of the servants if this was his habit, she was met with various grunts or nods and she knew no more than before she asked her questions. Realizing that they would not be cooperative with her efforts to learn more about her husband, she finally gave up and sought comfort and privacy in her chamber.

The day had been a frustrating one for her. She visited the seamstresses within the keep and then the cobbler in the village, all under Ailsa’s watchful eye. Her excursion was successful for a few garments were available for her and an additional pair of shoes was found that needed only a few minor adjustments to fit her well enough. Returning with her new possessions, Jocelyn was surprised to find that Connor had not arrived back from his duties. Dinner came and passed and his absence from the hall made her too uncomfortable to eat under the scrutiny of his people. She asked for a tray to be delivered to her in her room and that was where she had spent the last few hours.

Waiting.

Jumping at every noise.

Anticipating the coming night…and him.

She knew that the reprieve granted her last night was over and she would be held to the bargain made. Could she do this? Expecting to marry Ewan, Jocelyn had welcomed and even enjoyed his occasional but fervent kisses. She knew what was expected of a wife in the marriage bed, just not the details of the act itself. She just could not imagine now submitting to this stranger and his desires. She shivered as waves of fear and confusion and curiosity pulsed through her.

Cora, the young girl who had precipitated her misunderstanding with Connor, was back, this time straightening the room and tending to the fire in the hearth. Jocelyn stood by the window, gazing out over the yard. She could see the guards moving up on the main wall in their slow progression around the perimeter. No other movements were apparent to her as she tried to calm the emotions within her.

A soft knock at the door brought her around quickly. Cora opened the door, but instead of her husband, Ailsa entered carrying a pile of linens. The older woman whispered something to Cora and the girl was gone from the room in a few moments. After laying her bundle on the bed, the servant approached her.

“Here now, my lady. I’ve brought ye a fresh gown and a robe. After ye change, I’ll brush out yer hair, if ye’d like?”

Moving without thought, Jocelyn did as Ailsa directed and soon found herself wrapped in a heavy robe and sitting before the fire. The long, slow strokes relaxed her frazzled nerves as she awaited her fate. Would he arrive soon? Would he simply take her and give her no choice in the matter? She shifted nervously on her stool as more and more doubts and concerns came to mind.

“My lady, is there anything ye would like to ask me?”

Jocelyn was startled by the offer and turned to look at the servant. “What do you mean, Ailsa?”

“I thought that mayhap yer own mother did not prepare ye for yer wedding night.”

“Nay, Ailsa, I have no questions for you.”

“Good then. Yer mother told ye what to expect?”

“Well, actually she told me that my husband would tell me what I needed to ken,” Jocelyn whispered, not certain now of the wisdom of such a thing. If it had been Ewan, mayhap, but now that Connor was the one, she wished she knew what was to happen between them.

“If ye’re certain?” Ailsa asked again.

“You heard the lady, Ailsa. Her husband will answer her questions.”

Jocelyn gasped and turned. The sight of Connor, his height and breadth filling the doorway, took her breath from her. She clutched the edges of the robe more tightly and watched as Ailsa nodded at him and moved around him to leave. He stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind him, dropping the bar into place with a noisy thump. She could not move as he approached, her throat tightened and her chest would not take in the air she needed. After no more than three steps, Connor stood before her and she finally raised her gaze to meet his.

“So, lady wife, what is it you wish to ken?”

She fought against the urge to jump up and run across the chamber, seeking some measure of protection and shelter on the far side of the large bed. Jocelyn instead forced her fingers to relax their grip on the handle of her hairbrush. Placing the brush carefully on the table before her, she slid her hands onto her lap and tried to form an answer in her mind.

What did she wish to know? Everything? Nothing? She knew the mechanics of the coming act; that was not what had bothered her since she’d heard the news of her impending marriage. Finally, the question pushed itself forward.

“Why me?”

She did not meet his gaze. Jocelyn was not certain that she wanted to see what would be revealed there. His manner toward her so far had been less than welcoming, even bordering on hostile and contemptuous, but the reason behind their marriage had plagued her.

“I had need of a wife and you were available.”

His voice carried no sign of hostility, no sign that this was more or less than the truth. His explanation spoke of a thing common to lives like theirs—marriages were not made with any regard for the tender feelings of those involved. And the tender feelings that she bore for another had even less importance now.

Jocelyn sensed his movement forward for he made no sound as he approached. Only the crackling of the wood in the hearth broke the tense silence. She turned to face him.

“You do not wish to be married?” She thought ’twas clear from his words and from his treatment of her.

“I have no feelings one way or the other on it. I am laird—I need heirs. For that, I must have a wife.”

“And any woman would do?” She closed her mouth, but the words had escaped. He blinked at her tone and even she could hear the sarcasm in it. This was truly not the time to anger him. His reaction surprised her. His laughter filled the room. Connor looked almost approachable when he smiled.

“Nay, I am more discriminating than that. I asked for a wife who was plain of face and not an empty-headed ninny.”

She gasped in surprise—both that he would think of such requirements and that he would admit them to her. It took only a few moments for her to realize the insult to her appearance in his words and she looked away before he could see the hurt she knew would be there.

“I meant no insult, lady,” he said walking closer. His voice dropped to a whisper as he crouched next to her stool. “I did not want a wife who cowered from me or cringed at my every word. I wanted a wife with gumption.”

“And a plain face?” She lifted the brush from the table, mostly to distract herself from the pain she felt.

“I confess ’twas more of a jest than a true requirement.” Connor reached out and took the brush from her. “Can we move onto something less argumentative?”

The skin on her neck tingled as he lifted some of her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. Would it be now? Was it time?

Chapter Four

“I do not know what to do.”

Horrified that she’d let the words escape her mouth, Jocelyn stepped away from him. His size and strength and nearness unnerved her in so many ways and she needed some distance to keep her fears under control. That he allowed her to move from his grasp surprised her. Once a few paces away, she turned back to look at him.

“I would not expect it of you, lady. Someone who had never milked a cow or slaughtered a hog would not know how to do such a task when it was asked of them.”