Page 39 of Claimed by a Highlander
“The Lord of the Isles, this lass’s father, ignored a direct edict from the pope himself demanding that he quit cohabitating with his second wife and take back the church wife he had set aside.”
“Why would he risk excommunication and everlasting hell?” While a Lowland noble might bribe a bishop to gain support for a petition, fear of the church’s power led most men to respect its authority.
“The Highlands is a violent place, and a chieftain needs heirs—the more the better—and alliances that benefit his clan,” he said.“’Tis common for chieftains to change wives when alliances shift or a wife cannot give him heirs.”
After the depravity Sybil had seen at court, she should not be shocked. Was this not just powerful men taking mistresses and calling them wives?
“Sometimes chieftains change wives for no reason but to please themselves, as my father did,” Rory said with a shrug. “Chieftains hold all authority in their clan and can do what they will.”
“Then ’tis fortunate you’re not a chieftain,” Sybil said.
“Why is that?”
“Because if I did marry you—and I’m not saying I will—I’d murder ye for such behavior.”
***
Rory smiled at her threat to murder him, for he took it as a clear sign that she was imagining her future as his wife. Despite her claim that it was fortunate he was not a chieftain, he was certain she would be far more amenable to the marriage if he was. Sybil was not raised to be the wife of a second son. Her brother had been the most powerful man in Scotland, and, as the king’s stepfather, he could well be again.
But she was contracted to him, and he meant to have her.
She was wrapped in his plaid and pressed against his side like melted wax on a candlestick, which gave him hope that tonight would be the night she finally saidaye. He was nearly blind with arousal imagining all the things they would do when the sound of her soft, regular breathing finally penetrated the vivid fantasies running through his head. He heaved a sigh. She was fast asleep.
The rain had nearly put their fire out, but there was just enough light to see her face, which was usually so lively and full of expression. In sleep, she looked serene and innocent. Awake or sleeping, she was so beautiful she took his breath away. When he gently laid her down, he felt a deep longing to make her his, to wake up every day to see her face across his pillow.
Despite his longing and a physical desire that was almost painful, he told himself it was good she had fallen asleep. Sybil was accustomed to a pampered life, and he ought not take his bride for the first time under a rough blanket on the cold, wet ground.
For this sweet lass, he would wait until they made their vows in a MacKenzie castle before his chieftain and clansmen and could spend their wedding night in a huge bed in a comfortable chamber warmed by a roaring hearth fire. Rory wanted everything to be just as it should be on the night he made Sybil his wife.
When he touched his lips to her forehead, Sybil smiled in her sleep, and his heart flipped in his chest.Ach, he was a lost man.
Heaven help him if Sybil decided she did not want him.
Rory did not expect sleep to come easy, but as he held Sybil in his arms and listened to the wind whip against the lean-to, he felt himself drifting toward sleep.
Caw caw caw.
He awoke abruptly in the dead of night with his palms sweating and his heart racing. During the hard days of travel through the mountains, he had forgotten about the raven’s cry when they first turned westward, but the raven had come back to him in a dream.
He told himself it meant nothing. All the same, he held Sybil closer, determined to protect her from whatever evil lay ahead. He would be glad when they finally reached the safety of Eilean Donan Castle.
The wind seemed to carry an echo of his dream, and it sounded like a warning.
Caw caw caw.
CHAPTER 14
“We’ve crossed onto MacKenzie land,” Rory said. “You’ll see Eilean Donan when we crest this hill.”
Eilean Donan was a rather grand and romantic name for a hovel. Sybil steeled herself for her first look at the home he spoke of with such affection and prepared herself to lie.
“The countryside is lovely.” This much, at least, was the truth. The landscape was wild and magnificent, much like Rory himself.
The “hill” they were climbing was a mountain and so steep that they had dismounted to give Curan a rest. Rory climbed it as if he were strolling, but Sybil was gasping for breath long before they reached the top.
“There it is,” Rory said, and she could hear the pride in his voice. “Home at last.”
Sybil stopped in her tracks, mesmerized by the sight of the castle rising from the morning mist at the point where three stunning lochs met in the valley below. The long, narrow lochs cut through mountains that extended as far as the eye could see.
