Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) by Rachael Kennedy Page B

were peeking in.
     She felt his
hand on her waist and she twirled, and so many times she tripped and he
steadied her
    ‘You’re doing
fine.’ He was incredibly patient.
    ‘I’m not,’ Bridie
said to his ear as she passed him.
    ‘Cross your hands
at the wrist and I’ll take them.’
    He did everything
he could to help her, but there was no such thing as a lady in a week and
Bridie knew it. They thundered through the swords and she went to turn to the
left, but instead she turned to the right and she was facing him again and it
was a whole new dance, for the Laird took her back through the swords to make
up for her mistake. She felt his strong hands closed around hers and heart
started to thump as the music took to her soul and she was back in the lairds
skilled hands, for she was no longer nervous, except it was ending, the music
was fading and his duty dance was done.
    ‘How are things…’
he asked as he escorted her back to her Aunt.
    ‘Grand.’ She said
but one word but then turned to him, turned to the man she had loved, even when
she hadn’t known that she did and Bridie could not stay silent as instructed.
‘I’ve been having lessons on how to walk, how to talk, how to stand, how to
sit.’
    ‘It shows.’
    And then she met
his eyes for the first time that night and, for just a tiny slice of time, it
was as if they were lovers again. ‘Though I couldn’t sit down for a full two
days, after the skelping you gave me…’
    Always she made
him smile and it was his first genuine one of the night and there was a swallow
in his throat as he remembered that morn, remembered her passionate in his
arms.
    ‘Are you happy,
Bridie?’ The Laird asked and it would be so easy to cry and say no, to beg to
come home, but she was a strong Scottish lassie and instead she smiled.
    ‘I’m determined to
be, Laird and I want you to be too.’
    As
Bridie thanked him for the dance she meant every word
    And she sat and
watched as he spoke with lairds and danced with far more suitable ladies and
though she wished it would soon be over, that the torture would soon end, she
knew she could survive it.
    ‘If you were the
most graceful here it could still never happen.’ May’s attempts to be kind
twisted the knife. ‘Your brother would never agree and anyway, the laird would
not want to offend the other lairds…’
    ‘I know that.’
    She did. These
alliances were too important to be forged from the heart and when the room
stood, so to did she and she watched as he picked up the sash, the one he had
caught her dancing with on the night of her first kiss and he walked towards
Lady Helena who stood just to her side and she closed her eyes at the agony.
    ‘Lady Bridgette of Glenbarach .’ She opened her eyes to his voice, to her
new name… to him. To the man who did not need now to save
her. ‘Would you do me the honour of wearing my
sash?’ And her eyes flew then to her brother’s and Peter gave a small nod.
    ‘I’ve spoken with
Peter.’
    ‘Laird…’She knew
the damage this could do, had heard the shocked gasp from Lady Helena, could feel the tension building in the room as to the
Laird’s most unsuitable choice. ‘You don’t have to do this…’
    ‘I want to,
though.’ And he placed the sash over her shoulders, where it belonged, for
she’d been wrapped in his plaid when she’d nursed Gracie and had worn it again
in her dreams.
     ‘Do you know
what diplomacy means, Bridie?’ He said to her ear.
    ‘Not a clue.’
    ‘I’ll explain
later…’ she looked into his eyes and then to his mouth and there was the hint
of that smile he shared only with her. ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘and at the same
time dinnae believe a word I am about to say, for you
have my heart.’
    And he turned and
faced the stunned ballroom.
    ‘I always said I
would marry for McClelland.’ The Laird faced the shocked, angry silence ‘And
believe me that’s a hard thing for a man to commit to with so many bonny
lassies in the