His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

"I care not how much or how little they ask, for I will not pay. Not right away. Mayhaps not ever."

Sir Hugh turned an unhealthy shade of red as rage threatened to overcome him. "You promised me the girl and, through the girl a fortune. God's teeth, woman, you know very well how she will be used."

"I knew not that virginity held such an attraction for you, Hugh."

" 'Tis not that, but I would rather she had not been bedded by all and sundry."

"Well, I cannot see them doing that to her. She is too high-bred. The sons, mayhaps the father, but that is all. There is honor among these heathens. There is also a respect betwixt these two old enemies, even an odd liking of each other. I doubt Storm will return to Hagaleah as innocent as she left it, but she'll not have been abused. Think of it as training." She laughed and lay down upon the bed on her stomach as a pretty young maid entered the room. "They will teach her all she needs to know."

"I hardly need their help," Sir Hugh grumbled. "I could have done that upon my own."

Lady Mary sighed as the silent maid removed the towel and began to massage into her body a scented oil that kept her pampered skin soft. "No doubt, but I think 'tis her spirit that causes you the most trouble. Some time with the rough Scots will cure Storm of that. She'll be easier to handle. Do not forget the feet, wench," she told the maid. "The winter's cold floors have roughened them."

Watching the maid rubbing the softening oils into every inch of Lady Mary's back was swiftly curing Sir Hugh of his disinterest. "I could have done so given time," he murmured hoarsely when he recognized the maid as one he knew well, a certain well-endowed girl named Agnes.

Turning over, Lady Mary saw that his disinterest had fled, and made a soft, purring noise as the maid began to gently rub the oils in upon the front of her body.

"You wish to wed the girl. She does not wish to wed you." Her smile widened as Sir Hugh began to shed his clothes. "A touch of shame and humility could serve you well. If she is dishonored, she will think again before she turns down your offer, for she will know full well that there will be few others, perhaps none."

"It will make me look the fool," he said as he moved to the side of the bed.

"A rich fool," she murmured as he settled down beside her.

"Mayhaps." His brief frown fled as the maid, at Mary's signal, began to shed her clothes. "Still, it will wound my pride, and I had wanted to be the first."

"Worry not, Hugh. Mayhaps the Scots will teach her a few tricks."

"Ah, m'lady," he said softly, "if they can teach her to be as you, they can keep her for as long as they wish." He laughed and both women joined him as they fell into his open arms.

Chapter Five

Phelan sat on the large bed, watching Storm struggle to fix her hair. "It has been near to a week."

Storm sighed and smoothed the skirt of the dress she wore, glad that she had been provided clothes, for she shuddered to think that she might have had to continue to wear only what she had arrived in. So agreeable was it to have a change of clothing that she could not only ignore the fact that they were Janet's, but the ill grace with which they were lent to her. The laird had told her to adjust them to fit, but Storm had merely basted the tucks needed to make them fit her smaller frame. She did not think Janet would do so, but, if the woman wished, the dresses could easily be returned to their original size and owner.

" 'Tis not when the MacLagan man returns, but what the reply to the ransom demand is that is important to us. We are well treated, if watched constantly. 'Tis as comfortable as Hagaleah."

"Aye. They are not bad folk. 'Tis easy to forget we are enemies. Yet I had thought that Sir Hugh would push for your rescue or ransom." Phelan grinned when his cousin made a face. "He does want you."

"Sir Hugh wants anything female that is neither too old nor too ugly. My attractiveness is vastly increased by the fortune he would gain were we to wed. My father has given me a sizable dowry."

"Then surely he would rush to gain your release ere ye be abused and made useless as a wife." He frowned. "He'd not want to wed you ere ye are dishonored by a man or men. Nay, especially when 'tis by a MacLagan."

"I think Sir Hugh is in sore need of funds and would wed me ere I had been made whore to the whole clan. Lady Mary will no doubt soothe any qualms or wounded pride the man suffers."

Phelan bit his lip as he thought and then said, "Tavis is after sharing your bed."

A murmur of doubtful acknowledgement escaped Storm as she thought on Tavis MacLagan. He was a man a maid often dreamed of. His black hair was thick and as glossy as a raven's wing. Taller than most men, he was leanly built, with the well-developed muscles of a fighting man. His face was hawkish with high, well-defined cheekbones, a long, straight nose and sturdy jaw, but his glorious eyes, so heavily lashed and set beneath gently curved brows, could soften the harsh lines. So, too, did the smiles that so rarely seemed to touch his finely drawn, thin-lipped mouth, a mouth that had yet to kiss hers.

That was a puzzle to her, for she, too, sometimes got the feeling that he wanted her. She truly doubted that Phelan's presence restricted Tavis. There was nothing to stop him from simply tossing the boy out of the room,