Page 25 of Highlander’s Lust

‘Tis Unnatural

After what he had overheard in the training yard, Charlie could not wait to get Jean back to the bedchamber, but it was so that he could berate her, not make love to her.

“Of all the selfish shrews!” he shouted at her the moment the door was closed and he had checked the dressing room to see they were not being overheard. “‘Tis no’ enough for ye to ruin me wedding night, but ye must go an’ ruin me reputation as a man too!”

Jean was not such a woman to allow a man to rip into her character like that. “How dare ye! If ye had no’ gotten as drunk as a daffy sow, ye might have had a chance at wooing me right. And let’s no’ forget the wee matter o’ the scratches running down yer back!”

He clutched at his hair with exasperation. “I tell ye, I dinnae ken how those marks came there. Most harlots don’—won’t—even face in that direction; they turn their backs and lift their skirts! There’s nay way one could have gripped and ripped me flesh like that.”

Silence descended in the bedchamber. It was all too much for Jean to bear. All her hopes and dreams were cut up. She burst out crying. Some of it was wretched sobbing in misery and some of it was pure frustrated anger. Charlie knew that he had told her too much and went to wrap the shaking girl in his arms.

“Please, Jeannie, I beg o’ ye, gi’ me another chance, me sweet angel. I swear to ye, I will never give ye cause to weep again.”

Laird Brisbane had never before held a girl in his arms, completely defeated by her sorrow. He was a wild Highland warrior! What did he know about how to comfort the woman he adored?

For, as much as he railed against the truth of the matter, Charlie had to admit he was besotted with his wife. Although her stubborn refusal to give him entrance to her body made him madder than a snarling hound, he would have been hard-pressed to find any other fault in her. She was beautiful, elegant, eloquent, and had just the right degree of regal composure. If only she allowed him his husbandly rights, Laird Brisbane would have no hesitation in calling himself the happiest man in the world.

And, as much as it had shocked him to have a woman tell him no for the first time in his life, it had been exactly what Charlie needed to hear for him to get the shock he needed to drastically alter his wicked ways. She had challenged him to change, and he was determined to win through.

If it came to the choice of harlots or the sweet presence of his lovely wife, there was no contest. Laird Brisbane would choose his wife every time.

Jean felt her sobs fade away as Charlie kept his arms wrapped tightly around her, stroking her hair and rocking her gently to and fro. She could feel the thin sheen of sweat on his chest from when he had been training and sword fighting. The musky scent rising from his skin was very masculine and virile; it was so different from any other scent Jean had ever smelled in her life that she knew she would be able to discern her husband’s unique manly redolence for the rest of her life. She felt her body calm down, her anger soothed away as he rocked her and stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she whispered. “I had no idea there was anyone else listening to me and Eby.”

He sighed and held her closer to him. “Och, lass, the news was bound to come out sooner or later. Will ye no’ find it in yer sweet heart to forgive me and let us try for a true beddan?”

He had to keep reminding himself about how he had spent the last few days before his wedding—drunk and cavorting with wanton women—and when he did, Charlie felt unworthy of even being in the same room as his wife.

“I will try, Charlie,” Jean said, her voice still husky from tears, “but I will need more time. Maybe when the marks on yer back have gone, ‘twill be easier.”

There was a loud knock on the door.

Charlie huffed and shouted, “Be gone! Leave a loving husband alone with his wife!”

A voice on the other side of the door said sternly, “Charlie, there is a border dispute over at Carnachscallie. The plaintiffs are waiting for ye at the tavern. Ye must depart immediately to resolve the matter.”

It was Sorley.

Laird Brisbane sighed, but did not immediately get ready to leave. He bent his head to look under the hair that had fallen over Jean’s face, saying, “The sooner I get this over an’ done, love, the sooner I will be back. Will ye do me a favor, I beg ye?”

She gave a hiccough and chuckled when he lifted her chin and whispered in her ear so Sorley could not overhear them, “Please place a cap atop yer beauteous locks to signify ye are married? I ken ye are a maiden still, but I swear to ye I will no’ look at another woman so long as I have life left in me body. Cover up those long ringlets o’ yers and tuck them under a wee lace cap. Keep yer glory hidden away...for yer husband’s eyes only.”

Jean nodded. One of the most sacred rituals a Highlander’s wife could do was to bundle up her hair into a small lace cap while she performed her duties around the household. A married woman, or mother, had no time for long locks and intricately curled hairstyles getting in the way of her busy day,

“Aye, Charlie,” she whispered into his ear, her mouth tickling the side of his face, making him mad with longing for her. “I will cover me hair...soon.”

He gave her hand a kiss and left.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Jean ran into the dressing room and out into the adjoining room. She knocked frantically on the door. When Eby opened it, she crept furtively inside, holding a finger up to her lips.

“Quick, Eby, waste no time. Charlie—his lairdship—has business over in Carnachscallie. I need ye to follow in his wake and report back to me what ye see him do there. ‘Tis the only way I can be sure what he tells me is the truth. Take Cillie, me wee pony. But hasten, hasten! Do not let him out o’ yer sight once he enters that forsaken tavern!”

Eby asked no questions but ran to her trunk to fetch out her riding skirt and traveling cloak. Not more than a quarter after the bell’s ring, the maid was running down to the stables and ordering the groom to put a saddle on Lady Brisbane’s wee pony.

Jean watched her maid leave, looking anxiously out of the window casement in the east tower, biting her lower lip and praying that Eby would bring her back good news.

Jean paced the battlements that overlooked the Carnachscallie road until the bell rang for dinner. The sun had not reached its zenith, but Jean knew it was a fairly long walk back down to the dining hall and left her post.