A Wife for the Highlander

After she'd accepted his hand, he'd kissed her. Never had a kiss tasted so sweet as they stood in the meadow, surrounded by flowers, the stream laughing like pixies at their newly admitted love. He'd then pulled her into his arms and held her warm and close, his arms tight around her back, as if he feared with anything less she'd slip from his grasp and be forever gone. He held her for a long time, his cheek leaning against her head, saying nothing as she rested the side of her face against his chest and listened to the powerful thudding of his heart... the heart he'd given to her. Boadhagh had never held her like that, and she'd basked in the warmth of his embrace.

Boadhagh had been a forceful lover, giving her pleasures she hadn't imagined possible, but he'd never simply held her. Boadhagh's kisses had made his desire for her unmistakable, but Keane's kiss had been different, his caress of her lips gentle and loving in a way Boadhagh's had never been, and yet she sensed the same roaring desire tightly held just below the surface. Keane, like his cousin, was a powerfully built man, a prize for any woman, and she suspected he'd be the equal to any man when between her thighs... but unlike Boadhagh, caring for her needs in addition to his own.

Her desires had bubbled like the stream when he'd taken her lips and then held her warm and close, but during the ride home, she imagined him between her thighs. The gentle rocking of her horse as it plodded along reminded her of another type of riding, a far more pleasurable riding, causing her desires to howl and lash her like the winter storms from the sea lashed the manor. When they arrived at the stable, she shooed away the groom's offer of help and waited until Keane dismounted to help her from the horse. His grip firm and secure, he lifted her from the saddle as if she weighed little more than a child before placing her on her feet much closer to him than proper for anyone other than his wife. So much had changed in the hours they'd been gone. He stood, his hands still on her waist, his gaze so intense that she flushed and looked down as she smiled.

"My Lord?" the groom asked after a moment.

His words seemed to break the spell that had come over him, and he released her. "Tend to your duties," he growled before taking her hand and leading her away.

She glanced behind her as Keane towed her to the manor and saw the groom watching them before he smiled and dipped his head in respect. She smiled in return as she shifted her gaze to Keane and snuggled more closely into his side. Her smile spread. The only thing fleeter than a galloping horse was gossip, and she wondered if everyone in the minor would know something had changed between her and Keane before they reached the house themselves.

As they entered the manor, Fearghus was limping his way through the house closing the wooden shutters against the approaching chill of night--and any thieves who might be bold enough to try to sneak into the manor under the cover of darkness--and lighting candles. They'd rode out mid-morning, and now the sun was just touching the horizon. She flushed again. Hours had passed like seconds.

" Fearghus, is the evening meal ready?" she asked as Keane closed the door.

He paused in his candle lighting. "I believe so, my Lady."

"Please have us served immediately." She smiled when he glanced at the candle he was about to light. Despite his limp, Fearghus was as dependable as the tides, and just as unwavering in completing a duty once he started it. "Once you finish your task, of course."

He nodded, clearly relieved that he wouldn't have to stop closing the minor for the night. "Yes, of course, my Lady."

She turned to Keane. "Eat hearty my Lord, for our ride has given me an appetite," she murmured.

He smiled down at her. "As it has me," he whispered in return.

They had a simple pottage of oats and barley, along with fish and bread. The meal was filling, and would be a feast for a peasant, but she looked forward to the day when cabbage, onion, beans, and turnips would be available to flavor their dishes. They spoke little during their meal, each alone with their thoughts and wondering if the other was thinking of satisfying a hunger that couldn't be satiated with food, as they were.

As the meal was cleared, she joined him beside the fire, the crackling heat and the faint smell of smoke always a comfort to her. "So, my love," she whispered,"are you going to do tonight what you haven't done before?"

" Is that what you wish?" he rumbled.

"Yes, my Lord."

He looked deep into her beautiful eyes before gently taking her hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss her fingers. "Will the Lady accompany me to my bed?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, my Lord."

He continued to watch her face. "Tell me truthfully... of your free will?"

She couldn't stop her smile. "Yes, my Lord. You are my husband... and I desire you."

He smiled at her before lifting her into his arms. As she snuggled into his embrace, he carried her to the steps leading to their bedchambers. The staff scrupulously ignored them, but he'd seen enough glances and flickering smiles between them to know that the everyone in the house was aware that something had changed between him and Fianna during their ride. Before the door to his chamber was closed, he was certain the whispers would be spreading through the staff, and by morning, every ear in his clan would have heard he'd take Fianna to his bed. He didn't care. By tradition she would always have her own chambers, but if she would have him, she would rarely sleep there.

At the top of the steps, he turned to his room and kicked the door closed behind him. The room was closed and the sun set, with the warm glow from the candles the only illumination. As he carried her to his bed, the flickering candlelight made her so achingly beautiful she must have been Áine made flesh. He placed her gently in the center of his large bed and then ripped away the tapestries and flung them to the floor. He wanted nothing blocking the candlelight this evening so that he could bask in her beauty.

She watched as he carelessly removed the tapestries that hung around his bed for warmth and privacy before he stood and watched her. She waited, not moving, expecting for him to take her as was his right as her husband and the head of the household, wondering at his delay and becoming fearful that he was having second thought about marrying a barren woman. They held each other's gaze for a long moment before he began slowly removing his clothing.

Her heart began to pound. He was magnificent, even more so than Boadhagh! His manhood was large, proudly stiff, and weeping with his desire, his chest and arms heavily muscled, and his legs corded and strong. She'd long suspected he was the equal to any man, especially after feeling the ridges and valleys of his back and shoulders after his ill-advised tilling, but never had she suspected this! He wore his dark hair and beard shorter than most, but it clearly didn't indicate a lack of masculinity. Moving slowly, as if stalking her, he joined her in the bed. She opened her legs to receive him, eager to feel him inside her, but he didn't mount her. Instead, he kissed her gently, carefully, as if he were handling the most delicate of flowers, before he gently began tugging at the ties and binding of her clothing.

She gripped his hand to still it, her eyes wide in fear and surprise. "Please," he whispered. "Allow me to see your beauty... all your beauty."

"But--" she began.

"I don't care what the church teaches," he murmured, cutting off her objection. "Allowing me to see your full beauty doesn't make you a whore." He paused as she continued to hold his hand. "Allow me to touch you, Fianna. We are husband and wife... enjoying our love isn't a sin." She continued to watch him, her uncertainty clear on her face, but he didn't remove his hand. "I will not take you. You must give yourself to me."

She swallowed hard. "And if don't wish to in that way?"

He said nothing for a long moment and then pulled his hand from hers and away from her bindings. "Then... I will wait until you do."

She slowly licked her lips and swallowed hard. "But Boadhagh never--"

"I'm not Boadhagh," he said, forcing any trace of annoyance from his tone. "I want you to give yourself completely to me, as I will give myself completely to you." He smiled at her as he gently touched her lips with his finger. "Children are a joy. God wouldn't want us to withhold the joy of creating them."

"But I'm barren."

"Perhaps... but Reaghan also never had children."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, but she died young."

"Perhaps your time to have children hasn't yet arrived."

"It's been five years, Keane!"

"Yes, but you are still young... and ripe." He smiled at her as he began picking at her bindings again. This time she didn't stop him. "I promise to labor long and often to give you a child, Fianna," he teased. "Let us enjoy our labors equally."

She considered his words. God was a loving and merciful God, and He wouldn't punish her for enjoying the feel of her husband against her flesh after sending him to her. She was a broken and damaged woman that no man would want, so He'd sent her Keane to lift her from despair. Through his kindness, he'd made it clear that he loved her, treasured her, and he deserved everything she could give him, and more. No, a loving and merciful God wouldn't punish her for giving herself, completely and without reservation, to such a man.

"Yes," she whispered, as she pulled his lips to hers. "Let us labor mightily together."

After their lips parted, he took his time slowly peeling away her clothing, kissing and caressing each bit of her flesh with fingers or lips as it was revealed. Her eyes drifted closed as she basked under his gentle caresses.

For all the ways Keane was like Boadhagh, big, strong, handsome, and kind, his gentleness as a lover was just as different. Where Boadhagh rutted with her like a ram, Keane teased her with his lips and fingers, causing her blood to run hotter than it ever had with Boadhagh and her passions to flare to heights she didn't believe possible.

After he'd slowly pulled away the last of her clothing, he paused to drink in the sight of her. Slender but strong, with full breasts and an angelic face, she was so beautiful she took his breath, her pale skin and flaming hair almost ethereal in the flicker of the candle flames.

"I love you, Fianna. I've loved you since Boadhagh took you as his wife," he whispered as his lips tasted hers once more.

She was awash in passion and desire. "I'm yours, Keane, my love," she whispered before pulling his lips back to hers, his flesh incredibly warm against her skin. "Claim me for your own."

As they kissed, she felt her love pouring forth as it never had with Boadhagh. She still cared Boadhagh, and perhaps she always would, but the feelings she had for Boadhagh paled in comparison to those for Keane. Her marriage to Boadhagh had been a marriage of convenience, a bargain to better herself, an arrangement that allowed her to be safe and protected. She understood now that while she'd cared for Boadhagh, she loved Keane, and she desperately wanted him, every part of him. There would be no more hesitation, no more doubts. She would give herself, all of herself, to him without reservation or hesitation... and if God chose to punish her for it, then He wasn't the loving and merciful God she knew He was.

He'd had many women before, but none caused his blood to run as hot as it did this night. "Fianna..." he growled softly, his voice thick with desire.

"Take me..." she whispered, reading the desire held in tight control on his face. This man wouldn't hurt her, would never hurt her,"but slowly so that I may savor it."

He moved slowly between her thighs, his lips never long from her flesh as her back arched in pent up desire. His rod entered her leisurely, sinking to her depths as he groaned low and deep in his chest. She gasped with his passage, his weight pressing her deep into his down filled mattress, but she held him tighter still to relish his closeness. Keane was no larger than Boadhagh, but he seemed to fill her in ways that Boadhagh hadn't, the blazing warmth of his flesh against hers another source of pleasure she'd never experienced before.

They begin to slowly move together, Keane doing as she asked, and her desire swelled to new heights because of it. She could sense the struggle inside him from the tightness of his body and his harsh, gasping breaths. Knowing he was reining in his own need to try to please her caused the fire he'd ignited within her to roar higher still. She began to spiral out of control, her heat becoming a raging conflagration as her voice took a life of its own. She clawed at his back and shoulders, needing to feel his closeness, until like a clap of thunder, she quickened, her long wail silenced in an instant as her rapture stole her breath.

Keane collapsed over her as he stilled his hips, straining to hold his seed and only succeeding by the weakest of grips. He was desperate for her closeness, to feel her warm breath on his neck and to experience her soft skin and heaving breasts under his body. He held her tight as she quivered with the rush, her voice suddenly silenced as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

His hips still, he held her tight, his breath hot on her neck as she clung to him desperately while shuddering in rapture, until with an explosive gasp, she could breathe again as her quickening slowly washed out of her. Boadhagh had pleased her, but never in this way, leaving her a gasping, panting, quivering wretch.

"More. Please, I want more," she mewled, still weak from her rush.

He smiled with her begging as he pushed himself up on his arms and began riding her again. She whimpered as she moved with him, her fingers digging deep and hard into his arms. He began to gasp, his passions overwhelming him as his desire rose beyond his control. Groaning hard and loud, he tried to slow his thrusting hips, but he was losing control over his body.

"Yes," she whispered as he began taking her with force, his teeth bared as if in a fight, his face twisted as if in pain. "Harder," she begged as she began to climb the mountain of pleasure once more, his battle against his need increasing her own need in kind. "Yes... plant your seed in me," she whispered as the quickening began to take her a second time.

His loins tightened as he prepared to spill his seed. The rush was taking him, forcing him to drive into her harder and faster, his body no longer his to control as he reached for the moment. With a deep, hard grunt, he lunged into her, planting his seed as he shuddered, his face twisting in the sweet anguish of his rapture.

The warmth of his seed filling garden caused her to cry out with rapture once more. Before her voice had faded, he'd collapsed over her, pinning her to the bed with his weight as he clasped her tight. His breathing ragged and hard, she clung to him as if her world depended on it while they writhed in supreme rapture, until after a long moment, they relaxed with explosive exhales.

She began to twitch beneath him as she sobbed softly with her arms thrown around his shoulders to hold him tight. He tried to rise, wanting to apologize for losing control and taking her as he would a whore in town, but she tightened her grip. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her neck. "Can you forgive me?"

"No..." she began before sobbing harder, and his heart broke.

He held her snuggly for long moments, his chest tight with his guilt and remorse. "I'm so very sor--"

"No," she mewled again, speaking over him before sniffing as she tried to gather herself. "I love you so very much!"

He was quiet a moment, confused by the contradiction of her tears and her words. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

"No. I've never felt such... joy... such closeness." She sniffed again. "You are truly my husband, and I love you... love you like no man before."

"I--" he began but she wasn't finished.

"You are a good man, the best of men," she whispered and then sniffed a third time. "You didn't take advantage of your oath, nor of your rights. You've treated me with more kindness than any man ever has. You protected and sheltered me and asked for nothing in return. And now, tonight, you have shown me how a husband, a kind and loving husband, treats his wife. Never have I felt as you've made me feel this night."

"I would do anything for you, Fianna," he whispered when she didn't continue.

"As I would for you."

After a long moment her embrace loosened and he slowly rose to look into her face. Her eyes were red from her tears, but never had a woman looked more lovely as she glowed in the soft light of the candles. "I love you, Fianna Ceannaideach, with all my heart," he whispered as he lowered his lips to hers.

"I love you, Keane MacNobaill, with all my heart... and more," she whispered as their lips slowly parted.

He smiled into her face, happier than he'd ever been. He began to withdraw from her, but she gripped him by his hips and pulled him back inside. "No, my Lord, you haven't finished with your labors. My garden needs additional tilling and seeding," she murmured with a tiny smile.

"Woman, are you trying to work me to death?" he growled, his tone soft and playful, before he tasted her lips.

Her smile spread as their lips parted, never wanting this moment to end. "A garden needs to be tilled and seeded regularly, or of what use is it?"

"Then I shall do my best to seed it well," he rumbled.

"See that you do... my Lord."

"Yes, my Lady."

The staff sleeping near the fireplaces downstairs whispered and snickered in approval as they listened to the Lord and Lady of the manor laboring long into the night, repeatedly crying out in effort as seed was planted a second, and then a third time, some offering a small prayer that the seeds would take root and grow for their lady.

Fianna and Keane announced their marriage to the clan three days later, Keane throwing a feast in the central room for all the nobles of clan MacNobaill. As he'd expected, no one was surprised as all had heard of their ride, both on horseback and in his bed. Fianna wandered among the guests to receive their prayers and blessings with a spray of tiny white flowers woven into her hair. There was much laughter, singing, eating, and drinking. The manor was happy, but none more so than Fianna and Keane.

As evening began to encroach, the servants scurried about to make their guests as comfortable as possible. For the first time since Keane had taken her hand, Fianna didn't spend the night in his bed, instead sharing her bed and chamber with her highest ranking guests. The women twittered and gossiped about how their hostess seemed to glow with an inner light, expressed their approval of her winning such a fine prize, and discreetly inquired into Keane's performance in the more personal husbandly duties.

With Broadhagh's passing, Keane had become the chief of clan MacNobail, and she knew the 'clucking old hens,' as Keane called them, were curious why a man such as Keane MacNobaill would take a married woman, and barren one at that, when he could choose among all the unsoiled maidens that would gladly share his bed and give him many heirs. She told them nothing and refused to speak of the matter in even the most circumspect terms, smiling with benign contentment and accepting every speculation with serene indifference. She was sure her silence would leave their tongues wagging as they guessed he'd taken her because he couldn't perform the duties of a husband, but she didn't care. Let them spread the rumor. Perhaps it would keep the conniving maidens at bay. Keane was hers, hers alone, and she would guard him jealously.