The Highlander's Lass; Arran's Story

Chapter 4 Arran

Meeting Margaret Hamilton in that courtyard made the breath leave my body. She was absolutely beautiful. An angel here on earth, something I never thought possible. Her hair was like fire, and it hung in curls down her back. Almost to her waist. I began to wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through her hair, to caress her face. To feel how soft her skin was. Her eyes were a dark and deep green, like a summer meadow with swaying grass. They held kindness and innocence in them, but they also held pain. A pain I wanted to kiss away. Her plump lips were made for kissing, and I licked my lips wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Her breasts were perky, the way they were exposed in her gown. If this was how Gavin felt when he first saw Davina. I could most certainly understand why he fell in love with her, why he still loves her to this day. I felt electricity shoot through my body when I kissed her hand. How everyone and everything else faded away when I was staring into her eyes. I could not take my eyes off of her when Davina led her up the steps and into the castle.

"Margaret Hamilton is a very bonnie lass, do ye not agree, Arran," Gavin asked. Coming to stand next to me. His hand was on his sword. He was staring up at his family. The family he loves so much. But all I could stare at was Margaret.

"Aye very bonnie indeed. She looks like an angel here on earth," I replied. Gavin chuckled and we walked up into the castle a few minutes later. We went into the study to deal with some business. But all I thought about was Margaret Hamilton. My mind is constantly wondering what it would be like to bed her. To feel her writhing underneath me in pleasure, as I moved in and out her woman's core. I did not see any wedding band on her finger, or even a ring that signified that she was engaged. That meant she was not married. That meant if she was not married did it mean I could court her? Uniting our two clans would be beneficial for both parties involved. And it wouldn't matter if I was only a second son. As she was the heir to Clan Hamilton, and I would live with her at her home. Was that the intention of Davina's invitation to the neighboring clans. To find a match for me? If it was Margaret, I would not be disappointed with her as my wife. But I did not want to dwell on that notion. I still had to decide if my feelings were merely from lust or if they went deeper than that. So I decided to go out and train. Trying to take my mind off of the fiery redhead that was no doubt unpacking up in the castle. I picked up my bow and notched an arrow. Aiming it at the target I let it go. It hit the target. A dummy with coal for eyes. I took another arrow and notched it. I did this over and over again, until the dummy was full of arrows. If this was an enemy, they would be dead ten times over.

"I pity the man who angers ye," a voice said behind me. I turned and saw Garratt walking toward me. Garratt was my uncle and the physician of the castle. He was my da's younger brother. When I was younger, I thought I would follow in Garratt's footsteps and take over as the clan doctor. But The Lord had other plans for me and my fate. Garratt had never married, rather contenting himself in helping his brother with the Clan.

"Uncle Garratt," I said. I walked over and pulled the arrows from the dummy. Before going back to my position. Wanting to go another round before returning to the castle to change for the evening meal Davina had planned.

"Something is troubling ye Arran, what is it," Garratt said. I grabbed another arrow and notched it in the bow. Garratt always knew when something was on my mind.

"Nothing Uncle, why would anything be wrong? I am just training," I replied. I let the arrow fly and hit the dummy straight in the head.

"Because you only practice archery when you are either upset or thinking. Not tell me what is troubling ye," he replied. I sighed and put the bow down. Leaning against it, staring at the dirt at my feet.

"Ye saw the Hamiltons arrive today did you not," I asked. He nodded and grabbed an arrow. Running his fingers through the feathers. Garratt was always one for his books, not the sword. He often would teach us lessons when we were children.