Page 21 of To Claim His Highland Bride

Passion.

It burst upon her, upon her senses, in a hot flood tide. It rose from within him, from between them, cascade upon cascade of exquisite sensation before he pulled back, leaving her breathless.

Cheers rose up from those gathered but the sound could not drown out the frantic beat of her heart in her ears. She might have forced him into this marriage, but with one kiss Marcus had demonstrated he had power over her in a way that defied logic and reason. Rowena swallowed roughly and looked into Marcus’s eyes. Confusion that matched her own stared back at her. That more than anything helped her senses settle as she and Marcus turned towards those who were gathered. The hard part was behind her. All she had to do now was to make certain he never kissed her again, and everything would be fine.

A supper banquet followed the ceremony in the great hall. Seated beside Marcus, Rowena allowed herself to relax for the first time since the wedding had begun. Mrs Honey had managed to prepare an impressive spread given the short notice she’d had. As they waited for each course to be served, the discussion at table turned from congratulations to questions about what the couple would do now.

“As a gift for your wedding, Gwendolyn and I would like to offer you the newly refurbished north wing of the castle as your own living quarters,” Alastair offered.

“I don’t know what to say . . .” Rowena replied to the very generous offer.

“Rowena can stay with us and remodel the north wing however she likes until you can rejoin her after you and Bryce settle this matter between the two of you,” Alastair continued.

Marcus scanned the faces of those gathered before arching an eyebrow warily. “Rowena is coming with me. We are leaving for The Cliodna before sunset.”

All conversation at the head table ceased. “You can’t be serious.” Alastair gaped at Marcus as if he could not possibly have heard correctly.

Marcus returned Alastair’s gaze. Only the squared ridge of his jaw betrayed the control it was taking to keep his emotions in check. “The only change to my plans is that they now include your sister.”

Alastair’s face tightened. “You would endanger my sister’s life?”

“I mean to protect my wife at all costs.”

“Alastair,” Gwendolyn’s calm voice intruded as she placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Your sister is now Marcus’s wife. You must let her have her own life.”

The muscles in Alastair’s jaw worked furiously. “She’s not prepared for life at sea.”

Rowena opened her mouth to object, but a look from Gwendolyn stopped her. “Your sister has been raised to be as resilient as any of her brothers. It’s time to let her have the freedom she longs for and allow Rowena and Marcus to start their married life together. Would you have wanted to be parted on our wedding night for weeks or even months?”

“Nay,” Alastair agreed. “But—”

Gwendolyn shook her head. “There is nothing left to say except to wish them well and to have a safe journey.” There was no threat to her words. They were a statement of fact.

“When did you become so wise?” Alastair smiled at his wife, nodding his acceptance. “It appears my wife has become your champion, Rowena.”

“Nay,” Rowena replied as she watched the tension ease from Marcus’s muscles. “She simply knows what battles to fight and which to let go. An ability that will serve her well amongst the MacLeod men.”

Everyone at the table laughed except Marcus, who had little to say over the next hour as the meal progressed from Cullen skink; haggis, neeps, and tatties with whisky sauce; beef filet, scallops, and vegetable terrine with plum sauce; plenty of claret; and clootie dumplings for dessert.

As the evening wore on the gaiety increased now that the uncomfortable discussion of Rowena leaving had been accomplished. When rays of evening sunshine filtered in through the windows in the great hall, Marcus pushed his chair back and stood, offering Rowena his hand. The earlier tension returned to Rowena’s stomach as she slipped her hand in his.

“It’s time,” Marcus said, signalling that she should say her goodbyes.

After several embraces, a few tears, and many well-wishes, Marcus led her from Dunvegan to the front courtyard where a mounted Bryce and two other horses waited. A coachman and three stable boys would follow them to The Cliodna. The coach held Rowena’s trunk and a few supplies. The men from Dunvegan would return the carriage and horses to the castle after the voyagers set sail. The other nine men who had volunteered to help them on this voyage had eaten quickly then had taken Bryce’s boat and one other over to where Marcus’s ship waited.

Red and orange coloured the sky as they mounted. Rowena was grateful that they would ride to the ship. A wild romp across the moors was just what she needed to dispel her nervousness. The knots in her stomach would disappear once they were racing over the rugged terrain between Dunvegan and Neist Point.

The others had followed them outside, but only Alastair and Gwendolyn approached them. Alastair reached up to squeeze Rowena’s hand before turning to Marcus. “Take care of her.”

Marcus smiled. “I will.” The words sounded every bit as binding a vow as the ones he’d made to her earlier this day. He nudged his horse towards the gate, with Rowena at his side. Bryce followed behind.

The horses needed no urging when the reins were loosened, giving the horses the freedom to set their own pace as they made the eight-mile journey. Neither Marcus nor Bryce felt a need to converse, which suited Rowena. Instead, she gloried in the rush of the wind on her face as she listened to the clomping of the hooves on the rocky terrain. Only once did she glance at Marcus, then looked ahead, smiling. He seemed so much more at ease now that they were both free of her family and the walls of the castle. By the time they reached the shoreline on the opposite side of the peninsula, the sun was a fiery orb, slowly disappearing into the waters below.

Marcus and Bryce dismounted, then Marcus helped her down while Bryce returned the horses to the carriage that had rumbled to a stop shortly after they arrived.

At the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, Rowena drew in a breath of tangy air and glanced at the double-masted brigantine anchored just offshore. From this distance, the ship looked small, at least smaller than she remembered. With her next breath, the reality of her situation crashed down around her. This ship would be her home for the next few weeks, perhaps even months. She and Marcus would be in close quarters, sleeping in the same small bedchamber. Close. Too close.

“Rowena?” Marcus spoke from behind her.