Wed To The Warrior

by Madison Faye

  Catriona may have scared every other man in Scotland away, but she doesn’t scare me. And I’m about to show her exactly how futile her mock protests are.

  I knock once more, and when I again only hear muffled scuffling sounds, I chuckle as I step back, dip my shoulder, and charge the door with a growl on my lips. The crumbling old thing goes crashing in, swinging wide on rusty hinges as I go tumbling into the tower—

  …right into the sharp end of a spear.

  I blink, grunting and catching myself just in time before the damn thing goes through my chest. My hand flies out, gripping the shaft tight as my eyes flick up the length of it, up over the creamy skin of the lithe arms holding it, over the pouty pink lips, the petulant little scowl, the bright blue eyes, and the honeyed blonde hair.

  My gaze locks on Catriona, blushing pink and wild-eyed as she holds the spear out at me, and slowly, I start to grin.

  “Well now,” I growl, a smile teasing my lips as I drink her in.

  “Not the welcome you were expecting, my lord?” She hisses, those eyes wild and fierce, full of crystal blue fire.

  My gaze drifts from her face down lower, and when I take in the wet hair, and the pink, blushing skin, and the hurried way her dress isn’t quiet laced all the way up, I grin.

  “Have I interrupted your bath, princess?”

  Her mouth tightens, her scowl deepening.

  “Maybe something even more interesting that had you equally as undressed?”

  Heat blazes in her cheeks as her mouth drops.

  “It is none of your business what you interpreted. But I can assure you, you are interrupting, and I’d like for you to leave right this—”

  “I think we both know that isn’t happening, Cat.”

  Her face flushes, and I watch a shiver tease across her skin.

  “You may call me Lady McDoug—”

  “How about I call you wife instead.”

  A thin smile curls on her lips.

  “Do you think you’re the first man to say that to me?”

  “No,” I growl, my eyes narrowing. “But I promise you I’ll be the last.”

  Cat swallows thickly, that flush in her cheeks rising. All I can think of is the soft, sweet sound of her moans—the way her hips pressed to mine, the way her hands feverishly gripped my clothes. The way she opened her mouth so willingly for me, hungry for me to take it.

  She stiffens, her teeth raking over her lips.

  “No man has, and no man ever will tame—”

  “No man was ever man enough, to tame you,” I growl fiercely. My hand is still gripping the spear, and Catriona gasps as I push it aside and step towards her. She hisses, yanking the spear free of my hand and pointing it dangerously at me again. But same as before, I just grab it and wrench it to the side as I move into her.

  She whimpers.

  “But,” I hiss, my eyes locked on her as the heat between us builds. “I think we both know I’m not like any other men,” I growl lowly. “I think we both know that where they failed, I won’t.”

  Catriona shivers, her eyes wild.

  “And what is you think they failed at, my lord,” she tosses back, sarcasm dripping from her sassy lips.

  Gods do I want to taste that devilish mouth again.

  “Claiming you,” I growl.

  I push the spear even more to the side, twisting it out of her hands, pulling it away, and tossing it aside. I move right into her as her eyes go wide and her breath catches. My hand goes to her hip, and the second I touch her, even through her dress, the fire roars in my heart. My entire body tenses, aching to stop holding back—to tear the dress from her body and let my mouth, hands, and cock feast on every inch of her creamy, soft skin. My other hand moves to her jaw, cupping it softly and yet possessively, my eyes burning dark fire right into hers.

  “And I think we both know how silly this game is, my little princess,” I purr, “Because I know we both already know how mine you are.”

  Her eyes are wide as saucers, her pouty pink lips parted as her jaw drops indignantly.

  “Why you wicked, delusional, brute of a—”

  I kiss her, and I kiss her hard. I’d say that the moment my mouth crushes to hers, the fire goes out of her. But if anything, it’s the exact opposite. I kiss her, and it’s like that fiery vitriol that was in her barbed words goes right into her kissing me right back. The girl attacks me, gasping softly as her lips sear to mine and her hands grip at the front of my tunic.

  I kiss her like she’s mine.

  …Because she damn well is.

  Chapter 3

  Catriona

  And just like that, I’m lost all over again. One look, or maybe it’s just the proximity of him. But whatever it is about this damn man, I am powerless to resist it. Even before he actually kisses me, it’s like every inch of my body is responding to it ahead of time. Every piece of me craving his touch and aching for his lips on mine again.

  …Aching for that wicked feeling of sin and temptation. For that scandalously addictive way I feel around him.

  And when he does? When he finally throws my ridiculous spear aside, puts his hands on me, pulls me against him, and lets me feel every bruising moment of his lips crushing to mine?

  God help me, it’s like setting fire to a pool of oil.

  I whimper as our bodies come together, panting as his kiss steals my breath away. And I’m lost in that kiss, falling head over heels—that is, until suddenly, the reality of what I’m doing and who he is hits me again, and I gasp as I jump back from him. My brow furrows as I scowl, even if I’m not sure if I’m mad at him for kissing me, or me for kissing him right back.

  “I—you—” I sputter, my face hot and my body trembling under my dress.

  “You brute!” I hiss, staring daggers at him even as the thrill of the forbidden teases down my back.

  “You can’t just waltz in here and kiss me!”

  “No?” Callum’s brow arches, like he’s amused. And I’m so caught up in that look and how unfairly and temptingly attractive it makes him that I don’t even realize it when he suddenly moves right into me again. I gasp as he scoops me close, and when he cups my jaw and crushes his mouth to mine all over again, I whimper in spite of myself. God help me, I moan into his mouth, sinking into him as his rough hands hold me fast and his mouth tastes mine.

  I break away again, panting and wild eyed.

  “I said, you can’t just—”

  “Can’t I?” Callum growls. He moves in again, that fierce fire in his eyes and that smug grin on his face. And I am so close to letting him kiss me again, before suddenly, I react on impulse instead. My hand slaps across his jaw as he leans in, bringing a gasp of horrified shock to my own lips as I yank my hand back like it’s been burned.

  Callum growls.

  “That is the second time you’ve slapped me,” he grunts, his eyes blazing. His hand shoots up to grab my wrist, holding me fast.

  “Trust that I’ve had far worse than a slap, but no more,” he growls. “Not from my wife.”

  I swallow, pursing my lips as my fierce gaze locks on his.

  “I’m not your wife, Lord Bruce.”

  “But you’re going to be.”

  His words send a shiver though me, rending me speechless even if there are a million things I want to say to him in this instant. Instead, I just glare at him, but even that starts to lose its power pretty quickly, and it’s his damn fault.

  It’s his fault he’s so gorgeous, and so strong, and so…

  I swallow.

  And so perfectly tempting.

  But I quickly shake those scandalous thoughts from my head. He may be handsome, and wickedly so. But he’s still a brute of a man. All gruff brawn and muscles honed from battle. And he’s so crude, with a filthy mouth and eyes that dare you to do something reckless.

  And yet, the idea of him being my husband—of it being him who takes me? Heat floods through me, especially in places where it shouldn’t be. My eyes drag back to his, an
d I tremble as I see the hunger in that gaze.

  “I most certainly am not,” I mutter primly.

  Callum grins. “And now why do I feel that you protest too much.”

  My jaw drops.

  “I do not!”

  “Unless, maybe you like the idea of being my bride?” he purrs, a temptingly wicked and lopsided grin on his perfect jaw. “Perhaps you’ve been daydreaming of being my little queen?”

  “In your dreams,” I throw back.

  “Oh, it has been. Outside my dreams too.”

  He pulls me close, and I gasp sharply as his face dips to my neck.

  “Don’t you touch—”

  His lips brush against the delicate skin of my neck, and God help me, I moan.

  “You were saying something?” he purrs.

  I pant, swallowing thickly as heat blazes through my body.

  …I’m losing control.

  I shiver as his hand tightens on my hip possessively, pulling me into him like I belong against his rock-hard body. His powerful fingers brush over the curve of my waist, making me tremble as I look up into his fierce, dark eyes as they blaze into mine.

  My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and somehow, I manage to make words.

  “Take your hands off of me,” I breathe out.

  Callum stays right where he is for a moment, fire blazing in those eyes, before slowly, his hands drop from my body. And he smirks.

  “What?” I mutter.

  His brow arches, and slowly, he drops his eyes down. I follow, and it’s then that my face grows even hotter.

  …He might have let go of me, but my hands are still tightly gripping his tunic and tightly gripping his bare arm. I freeze, and when Callum smirks, I blush and yank my hands away.

  “The thing is, little princess,” he purrs lowly. “We aren’t leaving this tower without you as my bride.”

  I swallow, eyeing him as I slowly back away.

  “No man is going to tie me down, Lord Bruce,” she hisses.

  “Are you sure?” There’s something in his wicked grin that sends a tendril of forbidden heat teasing through my core.

  “Because I would be happy to tie you down and show you what you’ve been missing.”

  The heat blazes in my face as my jaw drops.

  “Why you…” I sputter, my jaw hanging open. “You uncouth, filthy brute! You are no gentlemen, Lord Bruce!”

  Callum chuckles darkly. “And I never claimed to be,” he growls, and before I know it, his hands have slid around my hips and yanked me right back against him. I gasp as I fall against his strong chest, and suddenly, his lips are on mine again. I melt into the kiss, again, before I somehow find my good senses and pull away, and once again, my hand comes slapping across his cheek.

  Callum growls—the kind of growl that makes me both terrified and horribly, scandalously, sinfully wet.

  “That’s three times,” he hisses, his eyes blazing. “I’m a patient man but strike me again and there will be consequences.”

  I smile thinly at him, my lip curling petulantly.

  “Consequences?”

  Fire burns in his eyes, making my pulse jump.

  “Lessons to be taught,” he growls.

  I swallow, shivering under that heated gaze. And I know I’m pushing it, but I just can’t stop myself.

  …I slap him. Again.

  Callum’s eyes spark raw fire as his jaw clenches. His hands stay right where they are on my waist though as his jaw grinds and his gaze burns a smoking hole right through me.

  And then, I do it again. And this time, he moves.

  …God, he moves like lightning.

  I gasp, shrieking as he grabs me and lifts me like I weigh nothing at all. His big, powerful arms pull me up and throw me over his shoulder, and suddenly, he’s marching up the tower stairs two at a time.

  “Put me down!”

  But Callum ignores me, his big hands tightening on me in a way that sends my pulse racing and my skin tingling, even if I know how wrong this is. He marches up all four flights of stairs in what feels like seconds, and when he storms into the room at the very top that contains a tub, a chair by the fireplace, and a bed, my heart skips a beat.

  Oh God.

  Callum marches right for the bed, and my heart leaps into my throat.

  “Wait! My lord—”

  “I warned you, little princes,” he growls as he stops at the foot of the bed, holding me tight over his muscled shoulder. He whirls and sits, and when he slings me across his lap, my ass thrust lewdly in the air as the blood rushes to my face, I whimper. His hand comes to rest on the curve of my backside, and I tremble.

  “And now, it’s time to teach my pretty little bride-to-be how to keep her hands civil.”

  Chapter 4

  Callum

  I’m so hard it almost hurts. My pulse roars in my ears, and when the blood rushes to my cock, it swells to steel beneath my kilt, tenting it obscenely and bulging against her soft stomach. Catriona writhes across my knees, twisting and panting like she’s struggling to break free. Except, we both know it’s an act. If she were actually trying to break free of me, she would. I’m much bigger than her, but just the same, if her protests had any real teeth to them, we’d both know it, and this little dance would be over.

  …Except, I know damn well she’s not really trying to pull away from me. Not with the way her face flushes, or how her lip catches in her teeth like she’s trying to stop herself from moaning at my rough touch. Trying, and failing, I might add. Because when my heavy hand comes down to rest at the small of her back and then teases down over the soft curve of her ass, my feisty, fiery little princess barely contains the moan that tumbles from her pouty lips.

  And this isn’t even about “teaching her a lesson” or anything like that.

  …This is about putting my hands on what’s mine.

  My hand drifts across her ass, drifting in lazy circles over her as she writhes against me. I groan, my cock throbbing against her, my balls swelling full of cum for her—the need to claim her burning through me like wildfire. My hand drifts lower, down over the backs of her thighs, and when she whimpers loudly, I grin.

  I grab a fistful of her dress at the back, and when I start to tug it up, Catriona gasps.

  “My lord!”

  But I just keep tugging that dress up, exposing more and more of her soft, delicate, bare legs to my hungry gaze. I notice she isn’t struggling anymore. In fact, I can feel her breath coming fast and deep, her body trembling against me. Her arms are half tucked under her, gripping my kilt tightly, and as I start to pull her dress all the way up over her sweet little ass, she only gropes me tighter and gasps so sweetly.

  I feel her legs squeeze tight together, and I groan as my cock lurches against her.

  She’s wearing a semi-sheer white under-skirt, and it’s there that my eyes lock as I finish tugging her dress up to her hips. She writhes once more, this time pushing back, that sweet, soft, tempting little ass thrusting up in the air.

  Like she’s tempting me. Daring me to take what I’ve come to claim.

  I pull back, and with a sharp drop, my hand smacks down across her ass through her thin little under-skirt. Catriona gasps sharply, but there’s a hungry whimper in that cry that has me groaning audibly as my cock pulses and aches against her. My hand comes down again, my body tightening and my thick cock throbbing as her soft little ass ripples under that gauzy white under-skirt.

  …Which I suddenly decide is severely hampering my view.

  I grab a fistful of the flimsy underskirt, and with a sharp tug, I’ve yanked it down off her ass, down to mid-thigh.

  I growl, like a damned beast. One look at her—so bare and so perfect and so mouthwateringly gorgeous, and it’s a struggle not to throw her down on the bed, slide between her pretty thighs, and fuck her like an animal right here and now. My swollen cock twitches, aching for release as I feel my sticky precum dripping down my shaft to slide over my balls.

  I can feel Cat
riona panting and shivering against me, her soft, cute little whimpers panted through pouty lips. My hand moves back to her ass, and this time, when I touch her silky-soft, warm, bare skin, I can feel us both shudder at the feeling.

  “Have we learned our lesson yet, little princess?” I growl.

  “About?” she tosses right back, a haughty crispness to her voice that brings a wicked grin to my face.

  Oh, my little soon-to-be-bride wants to play cute games, now does she?

  “About slapping me,” I mutter.

  My fingers press into the soft, supple skin of her ass, and I can feel my hips raising, pushing my cock against the softness of her tummy as she wriggles against me. But slowly, her head turns, wisps of her hair across her face as her eyes blaze blue fire into mine.

  “Aww, did I hurt you, my lord,” she tosses back, her voice full of sass and sarcasm.

  I chuckle darkly, shaking my head.

  “Does spanking me mend your wounded pride—oooh!”

  She yelps as my hand silences her taunts, my palm coming down across that pert little ass and making it jiggle as I grunt. I bring my hand back and do it again to the other cheek, and when I hear those soft, feathery whimpers from Cat’s lips, my jaw clenches as the growl rumbles through me.

  I grip her ass, and as the fire roars through me and as precum pumps liberally from my fat, hard cock, I start to spread her open for my hungry gaze.

  Gods help me…

  A snarl rumbles through me, falling from my curled lips as I spread her ass wide and let my eyes drink in the sight of her utterly perfect, utterly tempting, utterly slick, wet, pink, pouty little cunt, nestled there between her pretty thighs. Cat gasps again, and I can see the blush blooming through her from head to thighs. I growl, fingers digging into her spank-reddened skin as I pull her lewdly open, feasting my eyes on her nakedness.