An English Bride in Scotland (Highland Brides 1)

"Are ye all right?" he asked with concern.

Annabel bit her lip. She wanted to shriek, "No!" but nodded instead and tried for a smile that she suspected failed miserably.

"Should I stop?" Ross asked with a pained expression that suggested to her he did not want to.

She hesitated, but then asked, "Is it done?"

Annabel was very disappointed when he shook his head. She closed her eyes briefly, buying a moment to let the worst of the pain ease, and then shook her head. "Nay. Then go ahead."

He did. Ross slid his body slowly from hers, no doubt in an effort to go gently, and then he slid back in and she had to grit her teeth to keep from whimpering in pain. By the third thrust she was quite sure she would never want to do this again, but then Ross reached between them and began to caress her again.

Annabel almost told him not to bother, sure it would make no difference. Her earlier pleasure was a dead and done thing, but then a remaining ember sparked and her earlier excitement began to stretch and yawn inside her. Annabel held her breath as it began to grow and the pain began to diminish in comparison and then Ross paused in his thrusting to claim her mouth with his.

She kissed him back, her hips beginning to shift into his caress and unintentionally dancing on the shaft presently buried in her.

Ross groaned into her mouth, and then broke their kiss to straighten and concentrate on caressing her. He had stopped moving now, all of his attention on driving her crazy with his touch, but it didn't matter. Annabel was now shifting her hips against him, riding his erection as she'd ridden his hand. As the tension built in her again, she grabbed desperately for the fur on either side of her and thrust harder into his touch, and unintentionally into his erection. Just as the tension inside her exploded again, Ross stopped caressing her and grabbed her hips as he thrust into her one final time with a shout that startled the birds from the nearby trees.

ANNABEL LEANED HER elbow on her raised knees, her chin on her palm and stared at her husband.

After collapsing next to her on the fur and dragging her to lie half on his chest, Ross had fallen asleep. Annabel had tried to sleep with him, but found she wasn't tired. So after lying there restlessly for several minutes, she'd eased out of his embrace and sat up. Now she found herself simply staring at him with fascination.

The man had always fallen asleep last and woken first since their wedding night. This was the first time she had ever seen him while asleep and it was an interesting experience. In sleep, Ross's face was unguarded, his expression soft. It made him appear much younger. He also snored loud enough to wake the dead. It made her think it would be a good thing did she fall asleep first every night for the rest of their marriage.

Annabel smiled faintly at that thought, but her smile faded as she recalled his admission that he had known she was the second daughter when he'd married her. The knowledge was something of a relief. At least he was not angry about that. However, it didn't ease all her worries when it came to their marriage. He still had no idea that she was going to be useless as a wife because she'd grown up at the abbey.

Sighing, Annabel shifted to her feet, grimacing when she saw that the skirt of her gown had dried and was now wrinkled beyond repair. She tugged at the neckline, trying to coax her breasts back into it. But it seemed an impossible feat without undoing the lacing and doing it up again.

Shrugging, she quickly undid the laces, but then, feeling liquid sliding down the inside of her thighs, she decided to take a quick dip in the river to clean off and simply let the gown drop onto the fur. Annabel felt very brazen and brave for a moment, but the possibility of Ross's waking while she was in the river and her having to cross to the furs naked to retrieve her gown with him watching was enough to make her bend and grab the gown to carry it to the river's edge with her.

There she laid it over a boulder almost big enough to keep the hem of the gown off the grass and then stepped tentatively into the water. It must have come down from the mountains, because the water was extremely cold, clear and soft. It was also moving surprisingly fast and Annabel decided she would have to be cautious lest the current carry her feet out from under her.

With that thought in mind, she eased slowly out into the water until it reached her waist, which didn't take long at all. The bank dropped off swiftly, and the current also grew stronger with each step so she didn't risk moving further out, but paused there and quickly cleaned up before turning to head back to shore.

Annabel retreated from the water much more swiftly than she'd entered, the cold did not encourage lingering. Once on shore, rather than wait for the soft breeze to dry her, she immediately tried to put on her gown to cover her chilled skin. That was a mistake, she was forced to acknowledge minutes later, as she struggled to don the gown. She'd pulled it on over her head, which had been relatively easy that morning when her skin was dry. It wasn't so easy now. The waist had caught and tangled around her shoulders and breasts, leaving her hands caught in the sleeves and the bodice covering her head.

Muttering under her breath, Annabel struggled to at least get the sleeves tugged down her arms to free her hands so that she could either remove the gown, or pull the bodice down around her neck and free her face, but the sound of branches snapping made her suddenly pause. Turning her head in the cloth, she listened blindly for a moment and then a rustle and another snapping branch made her heart stop.

"Ross?" she whispered uncertainly. He had stopped snoring and if he was awake and up . . . well, that would be embarrassing. But if it was someone else who had not yet entered the clearing and spotted them, she hardly wanted to draw their attention.

Biting her lip, she listened to the answering silence with a sinking heart. Surely Ross would have answered? Well, unless he'd died laughing on spotting her predicament, she supposed, but Annabel was sure she would have heard that. Besides, the sudden silence was not a good sign. Either the sounds she'd heard were from someone who had heard her whisper and was now listening for another call to see where it had come from, which she definitely did not want. Annabel did not want her husband to see her like this let alone a stranger.

Or the alternative was that the sounds were from someone who was trying to sneak up on them in the clearing, and who had paused cautiously at her call to convince her that there was no one there. However, the goose bumps now covering her arms and chest were telling her that there was definitely someone nearby.

Taking a deep breath, Annabel tipped her head back and found she was able to see out the top of the gown's neckline. She'd barely made the discovery when a rustling sound caught her ear. It was closer than the other sounds had been. Whoever it was, was nearly upon her. Turning abruptly in the direction of the sound, she bent sharply at the waist while keeping her head at the same angle and tried to spot the source of the sound.

When Annabel caught a glimpse of a large figure moving toward her, she didn't stop for a better look, but shrieked, straightened and turned to run blindly in the opposite direction at once.

ROSS WAS WOKEN by a high-pitched squeal. Blinking his eyes open, he sat up at once, but was slow to orient himself to where he was. Then he recalled the clearing, his wife and that his marriage was finally consummated. The knowledge was trying to pull a smile across his face when a second squeal caught his attention and drew his gaze to the side. What he saw then left him poleaxed. Someone, his wife he presumed, since it looked like her dress tangled around her head and shoulders, was charging blindly about the clearing with the skirt of her gown barely covering her private bits and leaving her legs naked. He was so startled by the sight of her like that, that it took Ross a moment to notice that someone was chasing her. A man. A big bloody man too. Dressed in a plaid and a white cotton shirt, the fellow was rushing after his wife, arms outstretched.

A thud drew his gaze back to his wife in time to see her bounce off a tree trunk and flop backward onto the forest floor. Ross was on his feet in an instant, a battle roar on his lips. The sound brought the head of his wife's pursuer around just as he reached Annabel. Whe

n he saw Ross charging, he did what any smart man would do . . . he left Annabel where she was and ran like hell in the opposite direction.

Ross watched him disappear into the woods as he rushed to his wife's side, but did not pursue him. He was too concerned about Annabel. She had hit the tree hard and there was already blood staining the gown where he thought her head must be. She was also lying unmoving. All of that was enough to decide for him that she took precedence.

"Annabel?" he said with concern, kneeling beside her in the grass.

Relief poured through him when she moaned in response. She was alive at least, Ross reassured himself, and began the struggle to get the gown off of her so he could see how bad her injury was. In the end, the tangle she'd got herself into defeated him and Ross had to find his sgian dubh and cut her out of the tenacious material.

A curse slid from his lips when he saw her head wound. A large knot was already rising in the center of Annabel's forehead and coloring an ugly mottled black and blue with a red gash in the center that was oozing blood. Scooping her up, Ross carried her to the horse, but then paused and peered from her to the fur where his plaid and sword were. Cursing again, he carried her to the fur and laid her on it while he grabbed up his shirt and plaid. Ross pulled on his shirt, but he didn't bother folding pleats into his plaid. He simply tied the material around his waist. He then grabbed his sword, and crossed the clearing to the horses to slide the weapon into a loop on his saddle before returning to collect his wife.

The sight of Annabel lying there half naked with the ruined gown beneath her made him gather her up, fur and all. Tugging it around her as if it were swaddling around a baby, he carried her to the horses and then came to a halt again. He could not mount with her in his arms like that. Muttering an apology despite the fact that she was unconscious, Ross tossed her atop his horse on her stomach, grabbed the reins of her mare and then mounted behind Annabel.