Highland Burn: Guardians of Scotland Book 1 Page 3

  “Verra good, lass,” he reassured her. The escort took pity on her and pushed the door open.

  An eerie creaking sound echoed off the stone walls as the door opened. A rush of cold, stale air hit her body, causing her to shiver and rub her arms warm. The only light that shone through the kirk was a singular sunbeam through a small arched window. Abigale watched as dust specks danced in its rays while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Nay, this is not a place of worship, Abigale thought. ‘Tis too cold and dark. But the cloaked figure sitting on the steps next to the pulpit had to be the Black Douglas.

  With his hands on the small of her back, the escort nudged her forward. Willing her feet to move and sending a pleading prayer up to the heavens, Abigale stopped in front of the cloaked figure and lowered her head to greet the Black Douglas. “My Laird.” Courage…she thought to herself…courage.

  The man stood, his wool cloak fell to the ground, revealing his face. Abigale’s eyes widened in disbelief as if she’d seen a ghost. Her mysterious Highlander from the loch stared back at her. A whispered “nay” slipped past her lips. Astonished, she couldn’t accept the fact that this man was the same one she had met two days ago.

  The Black Douglas dominated the room with his massive frame as he towered over her. His eyes swirled amber like freshly poured whiskey as he intently gazed down at her. His animalistic presence chilled her to the core. A half-moon-shaped scar under his right eye made his blood-chilling stare more sinister. How could she have missed that scar?

  “So, ye be the princess of Scotland, aye?”

  Abigale froze at the sheer roughness of his tone.

  He bent down and whispered in her ear. “What’s wrong, lass? Afraid of the Bogeyman?”

  On the inside, Abigale shook with fear, but on the outside, she held firm. She caught her breath and nervously let it go before she answered him.

  “Nay.” Slowly she lifted her veil, tilted her head back, and met his icy stare. “Ye can no’ be the man from the loch.”

  It didn’t go unnoticed when she saw his brows slightly arch as if he was surprised as well. She must have had some kind of effect on the Bogeyman, because he broke their stare swiftly and began to circle her like an animal hunts its prey.

  “And what makes ye think that?”

  She swallowed hard. “The man at the loch—was chivalrous.

  Being this close, she could feel the warmth of his breath sweeping over her skin like a hot summer’s night. Her heart pounded so hard that she could feel it drumming against her chest. But what disturbed her the most was the desire heating up deep within her, waking the butterflies in her stomach. Aye, this was indeed the same man.

  Stopping in front of her, he lifted her chin. The coarseness of his skin reminded her of scales. He arched a black brow and pinned her hard with his amber eyes. “I’m most definitely the same man, and I’ve no’ claimed to be chivalrous, lass.”

  3

  Better to sit all night than go to bed with a dragon. ~ Zen Proverb

  James glanced down at their joined hands. A shaking, tiny hand sat perfectly in his palm as he finished muttering his vows and slipped a ring on the fourth finger on Abigale’s left hand. “I receive ye as mine,” he repeated and turned back to the priest who stood in front of the alter. Frankly, this whole process was taking way too long for James’s liking. He clasped his hands in front of him and shifted his weight onto his heels. Damn, the priest had a lot to say. A simple “Aye” from them both would suffice; no need for all these drawn out details.

  A blinding glare from Abigale’s left hand caught his attention. He glanced at her hands, squinting from the sun reflecting off of her wedding band. He cursed silently. She was his wife.

  The priest motioned for them to kneel and bow their heads for the blessing. As the end of the ceremony was closing in on James, he realized what came next, consummating the marriage. Sweat formed on his forehead. He needed to think of something quick, because in no manner was he going to bed Abigale tonight. Without a doubt, he felt her dread in every fiber woven within him. Terror had shone through her eyes the moment she entered the kirk. Although his reputation would say differently, James was not the monster everyone made him out to be. He would not bed an innocent. Not like this.

  There was no other way around it; he had to fake the consummation and he had better make it look convincing, for he was going to have to lie to a priest. Since it was customary for the holy one to view the consummation, James had to have a foolproof plan, but the real problem was convincing Abigale to play along. Because she grew up in a nunnery, it might not be easy to persuade her to lie to a priest.

  Mayhap he should bed her and be done with it. After all, Abigale’s beauty enticed him…beckoned him. Being his wife, she had to know what was expected of her. James pondered this thought a while until his bloody dragon began to pulse through his body, reminding him of why he could not bed Abigale. Demons he wished not to speak of ran soul-deep, too deep to be forgiven. His new wife deserved better.

  “Ye may rise as I announce ye man and wife.” The priest opened his arms, embracing the marriage.

  James hopped to his feet like his arse was on fire. As soon as Abigale stood, he crouched down in front of her and flung her over his massive shoulder. The plan was in motion.

  Tiny hands pounded at his back in protest. “Put me down, James Douglas!” Abigale demanded.

  Not listening to a word she was saying, James quit the kirk and headed toward Castle Douglas. As he maneuvered his way through the bailey, Abigale kicked at him, upsetting the balance with which he held her. He slapped her backside. “Enough or I’ll drop ye!”

  “Ouch!” Abigale squirmed.

  James dodged and weaved through the bailey; time was of the essence. He had to reach the bedchamber before the priest arrived. If he didn’t make it on time, then there was no way around it, he would have to bed Abigale in front of the holy one, and that could not happen.

  Enormous wooden doors opened as James reached Castle Douglas. His brother, Archibald, stood there with a confused expression on his face.

  “Don’t ask.” James glanced at his younger brother sternly.

  Archibald shook his head and closed the doors behind him.

  Walking right past his brother, James continued through the great hall and to the stairs leading to the second floor. With haste, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the top. He ran down the corridor and slammed into a chambermaid. White linen sheets flew from her hands and littered the floor. “Sorry lass,” he said in passing.

  With a look of surprise on her face, the maid clenched a sheet to her chest, bowed her head.

  “That’s-a-lass.” The maid called out and shook her head as if she wished it was her being hauled off to a room by a man such as the laird.

  Finally, they reached the bedchamber. James shouldered the door open and quickly placed Abigale on her feet, shutting the door behind him.

  * * *

  Abigale stumbled back a step as she gained her balance. Her neatly shaped bun now hung in a ball of tangles. “James Douglas, I demand to know what’s going on.”

  Raking her fingers through her hair, she tried to tame her mass of locks. One moment, she was kneeling in front of the priest, and the next, she was swept off her feet and carried through the village like a sack of oats. What was going on?

  “James?” Abigale harrumphed when he ignored her question.

  Without replying, James peeked out the small window of the chamber’s door.

  “Who are ye looking for?” Realization hit her like a stone to the head…the priest.

  Oh, dear God, she had to bed her husband. Even though she knew this day would come, it didn’t mean she had to like it. Abigale’s heart began to race and her palms began to sweat as she started to panic. The man who stood before her was intimidating and intense, but not as vile as she had imagined. Though she couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t too fond of her.

  What if it hurt? What if s
he couldn’t please him? Worse yet, what if she repulsed him? Her stomach went queasy. Never having been with a man before, Abigale was scared, and completely confused by this man’s actions.

  Quickly, James strode over to her and without saying a word, he grabbed her arm and spun her so her back was facing him. Two large hands grabbed the back of her dress at the neckline and started to rip the material in two. Blessed Mary, he was going to be rough with her. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to fight back the tears.

  A loud rip echoed throughout the bedchamber. Abigale tried to escape James’s grip, but it was of no use; he was too powerful for her to fight. “Stop, please, my laird,” she pleaded. “Please…not like this.”

  Abigale was swiftly turned around so she had to face him. Her dress barely hung from her shoulders and tears filled her eyes.

  “I dinnae know how much time we have before the priest arrives.” He ripped Abigale’s dress off of her and flung it on the floor. She stood naked from the waist up.

  Her eyes wide, her body trembling, Abigale’s arms immediately flew across her chest, trying hard to cover herself.

  James tugged his tunic off, then removed his boots. “Unless ye want to bed me lass, we have to make it look like we’ve consummated our marriage.”

  “I dinnae understand.” Abigale stood confused. “Are ye telling me we are going to lie and say we’ve consummated the marriage? Lie to a priest?” This was a mortal sin. She would be stripped of grace, condemned to damnation unless she confessed.

  “Aye.”

  Abigale shook her head in disbelief. “’Tis a sin. I can no’ do it.” Was he really asking her to choose between her virginity and faith?

  James advanced on Abigale, making her take a step back. “Maybe in yer world ‘tis a sin but not in mine. I know ye dinnae want to bed me, but the fact is, Abigale, sometimes ye must stretch the truth.”

  Abigale Bruce, what do ye value most, yer virginity or faith? Mayhap a little lie now and confess later was her best option.

  With remorse, she tugged the St. Andrew’s cross from around her neck and dropped it. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness as she listened to the ping of the cross hitting the floor.

  A loud rap on the chamber door made her jump. They stared at the door…the priest.

  Quickly, James bent down in front of her and shoved his hands up her skirts. Gentle hands slid up her thighs, sending a sensual sensation through her body and settling between her legs. She shouldn’t want his touch, but oddly she did.

  He unsheathed the dirk strapped to her thigh and dropped her skirt. “Good lass.” He smirked.

  Before he let her go, he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Start moaning.”

  Confusion swept her face. “What?”

  Both of them looked at each other, bringing Abigale out of her lustful daze. James nodded, motioning for her to start moaning.

  “Oh, my Laird,” Abigale moaned uncomfortably but convincingly enough.

  “Good lass,” he whispered with a smile.

  All the while, Abigale moaned a series of my lairds as she watched James. With the dirk in one hand, he had slit the other until blood dripped to the floor. Racing to the bed, he pulled the blankets and furs back until he reached the linen sheet. Immediately, he ripped the sheet from the bed and stained it with his blood. Perfect, Abigale thought. He really had thought of everything, for the bloody material looked as if they had consummated the marriage. The priest would never know the difference.

  As James went forward with his plan, he gestured for her to climb into the bed. Happy to oblige, the moaning ceased and Abigale slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Somehow, being shrouded under the soft furs made her feel protected, as if she was invisible. Oh, how she wished she could sink farther into the blankets.

  Peeking over the edge of the fur, her eyes never left James. With the bloodstained sheet in hand, he walked over to answer the door. Before he opened it, he untied his trews and messed-up his hair. This man had thought of everything. He threw the stained sheet and her ripped wedding dress at the priest, then slammed the door.

  The priest left as quickly as he came.

  James had been right, she did not want to bed him, not after what she had been through the last couple of days. She was confused; one moment she had freedom, then the next it was taken away. She had met a beautiful man at the loch only to find out he was the Bogeyman she had to marry. When James brought her up to the bedchamber, she'd thought for sure he would claim her, take her roughly, and rob her of everything she held sacred. Men like him took what they wanted and didn’t care who they hurt, yet, he had showed mercy. Her nerves threatened to shatter. Dear Lord, please just make him leave.

  * * *

  James leaned against the door and sighed in relief. The priest was gone, but he still felt like an arse for making Abigale choose between her virginity and her faith. Even though it was her choice, he couldn’t shake the guilt. He almost wished he had made the choice for her, to bed the lass and be done with it. After seeing her flawless skin, her full breasts, and touching her soft thighs, it wouldn’t have taken much to change his mind. Like the greedy beast he was, he would have taken everything she offered, if she was offering. This was why the lass had to go. He could not be trusted around her and could feel his self-control slipping away.

  As he picked up his tunic from the floor and tugged it on, he paused for a moment and glanced over at the auburn-haired beauty. She looked so innocent with her deep blue eyes pinning him from over the top of a black fur. God’s wounds! She was shaking. He’d frightened her.

  As he watched the lass cowering, his dragon stirred, reminding him he needed to get out of there and fast, for temptation beckoned. Abigale had encountered enough of the Bogeyman for one night.

  With his boots in hand, he turned and quit the bedchamber, leaving Abigale to rest.

  4

  The dragon teaches you if you want to climb high, you have to do it against the wind. ~ Chinese Proverb

  The next morning, James busied himself preparing their horses for the long ride back home to Black Stone on the Hill. All morning he’d tried to erase the vision of Abigale lifting her veil and revealing the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Why did she have to be the beautiful lass from the loch? Why did she have to be Abigale Bruce? It would be much easier to stay away from her if the lass had been an ugly hag, but she was far from a hag. Beauty like an angel, grace like a queen, and charm that could drive a man daft. How was he supposed to stay away when the lass tempted his willpower in such a way that even he did not understand it?

  I receive ye as mine. The words he’d uttered last eve haunted him.

  “God’s wounds.”

  He did not want to take a wife. Being a Guardian of Scotland, Dragonkine, there was only room for one woman in his life and it was Lady Scotland. Gut-wrenching reality hit—how was he going to tell Abigale about his other half? “Och, lass, I forgot to tell ye, I’m a dragon and I spit fire.” That should go over well. Nay, he would make sure Abigale never knew. Besides she wouldn’t be staying long.

  Agreeing to marry the king’s daughter brought more bother than he’d bargained for, but then again, the king of Scotland, Robert Bruce, had a sly way of sweetening the deal. Land. Even though James’s home was in Angus, he did not own the land, so it was a perfect opportunity to set the stakes high. A bountiful dowry neither man or dragon could turn down.

  After James was named a knight bannerette on the battlefield, the king had laid it all out.

  “James, we have business to discuss.” Robert Bruce slapped James on the shoulder and continued to walk. The king waited for no one.

  James peered up from the trencher piled high with vegetables and meats. No amount of hunger could stop his curiosity. Quickly, he wiped his mouth, left the table, and caught up with King Robert.

  They made their way up to the king’s solar. The king paced slowly, deep in thought in front of the hearth, with his hands behin
d his back. “Have ye gathered enough men in support of yer banner?” King Robert asked.

  “Aye, yer Grace, enough to lead yer next quest.”

  “Verra good. Ye see, James, my next quest is verra special to me. I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure no one knows about it.”

  James stood tall, his stance confident. Intrigued by what King Robert was saying, he listened intently.

  “I am well prepared to pay ye generously for yer service, if ye shall agree to my terms.”

  “Service? Yer Grace, I already serve ye and ye have been more than generous to me.”

  “And ye have served me well.” King Robert walked to his wooden desk, sat down, and steepled his fingers. “I've always considered ye like a son. Yer father, God rest his soul, and I go way back. He would be proud of ye.”

  That couldn’t be farther from the truth. How could a father approve of the vindictive ways his son conducted warfare or the way he dealt out brutality to those who stood in his way? Nay, his father would be far from proud, James thought.

  “What is this quest ye seek?” James asked

  Robert tapped his steepled fingers on his bearded chin. “I have someone verra precious to me, my daughter, Abigale. I’ve arranged for her to be married.”

  James knew the king would only trust him and his men at arms to escort the princess of Scotland. This made perfectly good sense, but knowing the king as well as he did, he still waited cautiously for his request.

  “I’ve arranged for ye to leave for Castle Douglas in the morn. There ye will marry my daughter.”

  The room started to spin and the air in his lungs seized. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his palms went cold. Had the king gone daft? Robert Bruce knew what he was, yet he was willing to marry his daughter off to a dragon. “God’s Teeth!" James wiped the sweat streaking down from his temple. He began to pace the small space in front of the king’s desk.