Alasdair rounded the corner onto High Street just as a burly man struck Bridget and she hurdled toward the ground.
Roaring like an enraged bull, Alasdair charged toward them. With one arm, he tore a man away from Annie and flung him aside. Without breaking stride, Alasdair had his hands around the neck of the other man, lifting him off the ground before he had any clue someone was behind him.
The man kicked his legs and clawed at Alasdair’s hands, choking and gasping for air. Alasdair was tempted to finish the blackguard off, but reason overtook his fury. He tossed the man on top of the one who still lay on the sidewalk and then knelt by Bridget.
She lay so still. Did she breathe? His hands trembled as he put his fingers to her throat to feel for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. He leaned closer and a shudder of relief flowed through him when he felt her soft breath skim his cheek. He straightened.
Annie knelt beside him. “Is she all right?”
“I doona…” he started to say when Bridget moaned and then slowly opened her eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a sight so beautiful as her hazel eyes. Eyes that were clear with no sign of dilation.
“Lie still for a moment,” Alasdair told her and felt a bit of surprise when she actually did as he asked.
The next thirty minutes of his life passed in a blur. The owner of the tearoom had dispatched a lad to get a magistrate, and Annie flagged down a hired hack to take Bridget home. Alasdair held her pressed to him the few short blocks it took to get to the boarding house. She didn’t protest and kept her eyes closed, which worried him a little, but he also felt her arm curve around his waist. Once they arrived at the boarding house, he carried her inside and up the stairs as though she were fragile china that might break.
Now, he paced like a caged animal in the hall outside her chamber waiting for the physician to come out. When the man finally did, Alasdair was hard put not to grab him by his labels to shake the information out. “Will she be all right?’
Apparently, the doctor was used to slightly crazed men waiting in hallways, because he took a careful step out of reach. “Yes. I saw no sign of concussion. She will have an ugly bruise on her cheek, but that will heal. Just a bit shaken up I think. Sleep is what she—”
“Later,” Alasdair said and pushed past him into the room and shut the door.
Bridget lay on the bed with her eyes closed. Her pallor nearly matched the whiteness of the sheets except for the contrasting bruise that was already turning from red to purple. Alasdair clenched his fists. He would be paying a call to the magistrate tomorrow to make sure Bridget’s assaulter got what was coming to him.
Alasdair paused by the door, hesitant to wake her. Perhaps the physician was right. Sleep would be the best thing. He would just keep her company. Alasdair started to walk toward the armchair in the corner of the room when Bridget opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Ye are here. I thought I was dreaming.”
“’Tis me in the flesh,” he said, feeling inordinately pleased that she would dream of him. “Do ye wish to rest?”
“Nae.”
She started to sit up and Alasdair rushed to the bedside to help. Feeling her softness as he put his arms around her to lift her to a sitting position almost made him forget she’d just had a nasty experience. She made a soft noise that sounded like a kitten mewling.
“Are ye hurting? I think the physican is still here—”
“Nae,” she said again, positioning herself against the headboard. “I doona need the doctor.”
“Ye are sure?” Alasdair said as he plumped a pillow behind her head and sat on the edge of the bed.
She smiled and reached out a hand to pat his. “Thank ye.”
Alasdair folded his hand around hers. “I am glad I got there in time.” He wanted to tell her never to do anything like that again, but he might as well be telling thistles not to grow in Scotland. At any rate, they could have that discussion later. “I have some important news.”
“The meeting went well?”
“Aye. Very well.”
Bridget studied him. “Do ye think ye will have enough votes to secure a seat?”
Alasdair nodded. “Colonel Boothe introduced me to Baron Ross who will have an open seat in his constituency soon.”
“That is good news then.”
“’Tis nae the good news I meant though.”
Bridget raised the eyebrow on the unbruised side of her face. “Oh?”
He tried to restrain his glee as he told Bridget what he’d learned of Isobel, but he finished grinning like a fool. “’Twas luck—or a miracle—that I found out. I went straight to Isobel and told her we would nae be marrying.”
Bridget broke into a grin too. “’Tis truly over?”
“’Tis over.”
Her grin faded, changing to concern. “Isobel willnae take that well.”
Alasdair shrugged. “’Tis nae matter. We are nae betrothed any longer. That is the end of it.”
A look of relief washed over Bridget’s face. “The old crone was right then.”
“Old crone?”
“Aye. A woman I met at the glade in the hills one day. She asked me if I had come to see my future in the water. When I said no, she gave me an acorn and explained it meant to have patience. I guess she kenned what she was talking about.”
A little shiver slid through Alasdair. Bridget’s meeting sound a lot like Annie’s dream. But this was not the time to dwell on the Fae. Or maybe it was. He might need all the help he could get with his next question.
“Bridget. Will ye marry me? I promise to love ye forever.”
She blinked, her color fading and then returning to spread a pinkish hue across her face. “I—”
“Ye doona have to answer right now,” Alasdair interrupted, not sure if he was prolonging the agony of a rejection or hoping to buy time for the ecstasy of acceptance. “Ye have just been through a bad time. Ye should think on it. Take a night—”
“Cease your blethering.” Bridget put her fingers against his mouth and then removed them. “I will marry ye.”
“Ye will?”
She frowned at him. “Did ye just nae ask me to?”
“I did.”
“And I said aye. I think I can manage to love ye as well.”
Alasdair took her hand again. “Ye willnae mind having to go to London part of the year for Parliament’s session?”
“It might be better for ye if I stayed here,” Bridget answered with a smile. “I am nae the docile kind to fit into London Society.”
“London Society may need to be turned on its ear,” Alasdair said. “I want ye by my side every day of the year. I willnae accept the seat if ye doona agree.”
Bridget’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “Ye should be careful what ye ask for, Alasdair MacDonald.”
“My prayers have just been answered, Bridget MacLeod.” He smiled. “I cannae wait to make ye my wife. I will go tomorrow to get a special license for us to wed. We will need to have a big gathering of both clans to celebrate, but that can happen—”
“Will ye cease your blethering?” Bridget tilted her head. “I want ye to make me your wife now.”
“Now?”
“Aye. According to the auld ways, a promise is enough.” Bridget squeezed his hand slightly. “Come here.”
A tiny part of his mind told him he should be a gentleman and clarify that what she said was what he thought it meant, but a much bigger part of him was already growing hard in anticipation. The gentleman would have to step aside.
“Are ye going to get rid of your clothing or nae?” Bridget asked.
Had he been sitting there like a dolt? Alasdair kicked off his boots and shed his clothes so quickly that pieces went flying in every direction. He turned to slide onto the bed, his cock thrust out, thick and ready. Bridget gave a small gasp, which only made him even larger. Alasdair pushed back the coverlet and pulled at the laces of the night rail Bridget wore. Her hand stayed him. He bit back a groan of frustration. If Bridget had changed her mind, if she wanted him to stop, he would, although he suspected it might just kill him. He looked into her eyes, half-expecting her to be frowning. Instead, she was smiling.
“Ye are making knots of the laces.”
He looked down at the ribbons. Sure enough, the one he had tugged on was now tight, not loose. He hadn’t made such a stupid mistake even when he was a green lad panting after a milkmaid who’d taken him to the hayloft. He began to pick at the knot, wondering when his fingers had become so clumsy. The damn thing wouldn’t give. He was tempted to rip it apart when he noticed the shiny blade of a knife in his side vision. Startled, he looked up.
Bridget flipped the sgian dubh over and offered him the handle. “This will be quicker.”
Where had Bridget kept that hidden? And why hadn’t he seen her reach for it? Questions that could wait. Nor could he think of some comment to make. Silently, he took the knife. It’s sharp, honed edge sliced neatly through the knot and cut through the other three ribbons that held the gown together. He placed the knife on the bedside table where the light from the oil lamp glinted off the razor-sharp point. Alasdair sucked in a breath. “I dinnae realize ye had put such a fine tip to it. I could have hurt ye.”
Bridget’s eyes widened. “I trust ye.”
It almost sounded as if she meant something besides the knife, but his body was demanding action, not conversation.
Alasdair pushed the gown back, revealing the soft, ivory mounds of Bridget’s breasts. He took a moment to savor their beauty. They were as perfect as he had imagined. Lush and round, just large enough to fit nicely into his hands. The nipples were coral, surrounded by pale brown aureoles, puckered slightly to resemble sand left from receding tide.
He palmed one breast, lifting it slightly as he brushed his thumb across the nipple, which pebbled under his touch. Alasdair looked into Bridget’s eyes, watching her pupils grow large as he gently rolled the nipple between thumb and forefinger, then tugged, then rolled again. A soft moan escaped her lips and he bent and flicked his tongue across the other one. He felt, rather than heard, her sharp inhalation. Bridget moved her hands over his shoulders, pressing her fingers into his muscles, drawing him closer. Alasdair obliged, covering her breast and beginning to suckle. Another moan escaped her and he increased the pressure, alternating sucking and pulling and then flattening his tongue over the delicious nib while he massaged and kneaded the other breast.
Alasdair lay down beside Bridget and feathered kisses along her collarbone. She arched her neck, exposing her throat, and he showered kisses there too, nuzzling her neck before nibbling on an earlobe. Her response was a slight shudder and something that sounded very much like a satisfied cat purring. He covered her mouth with his, and she opened immediately, inviting him in. Their tongues met and tangled, the kiss deepening on its own accord.
Alasdair slid his hand down Bridget’s torso, along the indention of her waist and the flare of her hip. He slipped his hand lower to the cluster of curls already damp. Bridget made another sound low in her throat. He moved his hand between her legs, parting them, and slipped a finger inside her core. She was hot and wet, her body softening and readying for him.
He’d intended to take this first time slowly, to get to know every inch of her first, to taste her juice, but the desire that had been building for weeks demanded fulfillment. Alasdair shifted his position and moved over Bridget, spreading her thighs with his knees, his throbbing cock finding her entrance easily and nudging eagerly inside. Alasdair sighed in pure ecstasy. Even the small portion of him that was inside her was already held tightly. To slide his whole length into her heat and feel her core grip and hold him like that…he couldn’t wait any longer. Alasdair thrust.
And then stopped when he felt resistance, staring at Bridget in bewilderment.
“Ye are a virgin?” he asked.
* * * * *
Bridget closed her eyes in embarrassment. She had hoped Alasdair would never find out. With all the horseback riding she and her sisters had done, she had hoped her womanly barrier had been broken. The Crone of the Hills at Glenfinnan had said such a thing was possible. Bridget had promised Brodie his secret would be safe. Now it was no longer.
“Bridget?” Alasdair’s voice was soft as he began to withdraw from her.
She grabbed his arm to hold him still and forced her eyes open. “Doona leave me. Please.”
For a moment, Alasdair looked undecided. Then he settled back on his legs and drew her thighs over his, keeping himself partially embedded and waited.
Bridget chewed her lower lip. Just a minute ago, her body had felt on fire, now she felt as though there was ice in her veins. She prayed Brodie would forgive her. “I am a virgin because my husband did nae favor me.”
Alasdair’s brow furrowed. “Ye are beautiful. How could the mon nae favor ye?”
Bridget shook her head and didn’t answer.
“Did Brodie favor another woman?”
She shook her head again.
Alasdair’s brow smoothed as his eyes widened. “He favored his own kind?”
Bridget nodded. “He never acted on his feelings though.”
“Did your brothers ken?”
“Nae! Nobody kenned, nae even his parents. Can ye imagine the ridicule he would have taken if anyone found out? He might even have been killed. People fear what they doona understand.”
“’Tis truth in that.”
“My husband was a good mon.”
“Aye. I saw that in the short time I was at Glenfinnan last year.”
“I would ask that ye keep his secret.”
“Brodie’s reputation is safe with me,” Alasdair said and then hesitated. “Perhaps we should finish our coupling at another time.”
“Nae.” Bridget lifted her hips, shoving at him. “I have waited long enough, do ye nae think?”
His eyes darkened. “Are ye sure?”
“As sure as I have been of anything in my life. I want ye, Alasdair MacDonald. I want ye now.”
“Ye are an amazing woman, Bridget MacLeod.” Alasdair repositioned himself, then leaned down to give her a tender kiss. A kiss that quickly turned heated.
The smooth head of his manhood nudged at her opening, then Bridget felt herself being stretched wide as the thick length of it followed. The sensation was strange, alien and yet somehow also familiar. As though Alasdair belonged right where he was.
He stopped moving, and for a moment Bridget thought he’d changed his mind. Then he began to stroke between her parted folds. A pulsing began between her legs as he flicked back and forth over a little nub that was fast becoming the center of all sensation. It swelled beneath his touch and grew achy for more, much like her breasts had when he’d suckled them. The pulsation became a throbbing that surged through her lower belly and rolled like relentless surf onto the shore, to ebb, only to build again.
Alasdair began to thrust slowly, causing those scattered sensations to come together like a rising tide. Bridget could feel him at her barrier again and wrapped her legs around his thighs.
Alasdair deepened their kiss and gave a hard thrust. For a moment, there was searing pain, but Alasdair’s clever tongue kept her from crying out. The pain quickly subsided as pleasure built like a wild, rogue wave, cresting and crashing only to rise in a mighty swell to crest once more. Bridget began to shudder, much like a rudderless ship tossed about on a restless sea, rising high, cresting and then crashing, letting the curl of the wave take her to oblivion.
* * * * *
Niall sat with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out in front of him in a corner of the dining room. Annie sat a table and Niall watched the physician finish applying salve to the bruise on her arm and then wrap a bandage around it. When Alasdair had arrived back with the two women earlier and Niall had seen the ripped sleeve on Annie’s dress, cold rage had filled him at the thought of the lout who’d manhandled her. That was a score he meant to settle on the morrow.
For now, there was Annie.
He waited until the physician finished and Mrs. Ferguson had reluctantly gone back to the kitchen before he got up and sauntered over to the table where Annie was just rising.
“Have a seat, lass.”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to ye.”’
Her brow furrowed, but she did as he requested. “If ye are going to lecture me—”
“Nae.” He wanted to lecture her, but she was as strong willed as Bridget and Margaret. A man had to choose his battles. And, where women were concerned, choose those battles wisely. “I want to ken what happened.”
“I already told ye. This man grabbed my arm when Bridget and I left the tearoom, and when Bridget tried to stop him, another man accosted her.”
“Why?”
Annie looked at him as if he had only half his wits. “Because she was trying to help me.”
“I doona mean Bridget,” Niall said. “I mean ye. Why did the mon grab ye?”
“How should I ken? Ye will have to ask him.”
“I intend to do that tomorrow.”
Annie gave him a startled look. “Why would ye do that?”
He arched a brow. “Because MacDonalds settle their scores.”
“’Tis nae your problem.”
“I just made it mine.”
“But—”
“Tell me what happened, lass. From the beginning.”
Annie sighed. “We were having a meeting of the LPs in the same place we always do. There were no disruptions or anything. The others left, and I was paying the account. When Bridget and I went outside, those two men just lurched at us.”
“Ye had nae seen them before?”
Annie’s eyes blinked twice. “I doona ken who they were.”
Niall took note of the small move. “I dinna ask if ye kenned who they were. I asked if ye had seen them before. Anywhere.”
Annie looked at the wall over his shoulder. “I…they might have been outside when we walked in.”
“And they were still there when ye left?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Obviously.”
“Did they say anything?”
Her gaze drifted back to the wall. “They might have made some comment.”
“What kind of comment?”
“It was nae important.”
Niall crossed his arms again. “Was it something about the strike last week?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why would ye say that?”
“Because men—particularly the weavers—are nae happy about what that club of yours is doing.”
A thunderous look crossed Annie’s face. “We have a right to meet. We have a right to demonstrate peacefully. Or at least we should. ’Tis nae fair—”
“I am nae saying ’tis fair,” Niall said, “but ye ladies are placing yourselves in danger with your actions.”
Now she glowered at him. “We willnae stop.”
“I dinnae think ye would.” Niall said and pushed back his chair to stand. “Then ye leave me nae choice.”
“Choice? What choice?”
“I will escort ye from now on when ye venture out.” He almost laughed at the expression of indignation on Annie’s face, but experience had long taught him a woman in high dudgeon was not a force to reckon with. He was, however, surprised at the coolness of her tone when she spoke.
“Are ye nae supposed to be following Bridget around?”
Niall glanced toward the staircase from which Alasdair had not come down. “I think I have been relieved of that duty.”
A blush colored Annie’s cheeks, which Niall found quite intriguing. So she probably was thinking the same thing he was concerning what was going on upstairs.
Most interesting.
Her words, though, were clipped. “Whatever that case is, I give ye no leave to follow me around.”
“I dinna ask for leave,” Niall replied, “and I will walk by your side and nae behind. Ye will get used to it.” He bowed slightly, trying to hide a grin as her jaw jutted out. “Ye might even learn to like it.”
“I doubt that.”
Was that a challenge? Niall kept his face impassive. “We will see.”