by Evie North
She kept her face forward, refusing to look at him, despite knowing he was looking at her. His muscular bicep brushed her shoulder and she felt his warm breath on her hair as he bent closer to her.
“Breathe, Rosina,” he murmured.
She tried to quicken her pace.
“Rosina,” he said. “Look at me.”
“Why should I?” she snapped. “You follow me and interfere in my life; you tell me what I can and cannot do. Go away Dugald, you are leaving anyway.”
She wasn’t sure where that last bit came from, and why it caused her heart to contract so hard that for a moment she found it difficult to see straight.
“Rosina.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
She sounded childish and she knew it, but he made her emotions hurtle around inside her, threatening to overturn her, and after so many years of keeping those feelings locked away, she was frightened of what might happen if she lost control of them now.
“Then don’t talk,” he replied evenly, and with something warm in his voice that she suspected was laughter. She turned sharply to look at him and found his dark blue eyes gazing down at her. “Don’t talk,” he repeated, and bending brushed his lips over hers. “Kiss me instead,” he said, voice low and husky and full of desire.
Her gaze flickered to his lips and then back to his compelling gaze. They had stopped walking now, standing in the middle of the empty road, fully engaged in each other.
“There is something still between us,” Dugald said. “I know you feel it too.”
“And you are leaving. All the more reason not to act on it.”
He was so close to her she could see the scruff on his jaw and the dark lashes that seemed too long for such a big strong man.
“Why not? Wouldn’t it make sense to work this urge out of our systems? Then we’ll be free of it. Don’t tell me,” he hurried on, when she went to speak, placing his fingertip against her lips, “that you feel nothing. I know you do. Right now your breasts are hard points through your blouse. I can see them.” His eyes flared. “I want to suck on them until you beg me to—”
This time it was she who put her fingers over his lips to stop him.
Dugald wouldn’t be stopped. “You want me, Rosina, and I want you.”
With a groan she turned away from him, shaking her head, and said. “Dugald—”
“Consider it,” he said before she could refuse him. “Until I leave we can fuck until this thing between us dies a natural death, and perhaps we can even be civil to each other. We have a daughter, we need to be civil, Rosina.”
She had flinched at his coarseness but the rest of his words made an uncanny sense. Was he right? Could they drive this thing out? Could she be free of the ache that was growing with every moment in his company? And Mary … he was right about that too. She had already come to realise he had no intention of walking away from his daughter, although he seemed to have no problems with walking away from Rosina. They would have to talk as Mary grew older and she wanted those talks to be civil.
“I will consider it,” she said roughly, still not looking at him, and then continued on her way.
After a moment he caught up with her, falling into step once more. They walked together, in silence, until they reached the gates to Castle Tighe, and then he turned in the direction of the armoury. Rosina ignored the smirk of the guard and went about her duties.
But she had a great deal to think about. His offer was crude and preposterous and yet … Some part of her, the keening she had felt all those years ago, the sensation that had never gone away, was screaming at her to say yes.
Mary was sewing in Elspit’s chamber with the other women. Elspit herself was half asleep with a smile on her face, a smile that Rosina was fully aware was due to Ewen Campbell.
They were in love.
Rosina didn’t expect to find love again, that wasn’t why she was resisting Dugald’s request. He wasn’t asking her for love. This was a purely physical thing.
“Dugald says he will ask the seamstress to make me a new gown, Mother,” Mary interrupted her thoughts. “A green one, because it is my favourite colour. He says his brother Ewen is going to have a feast to celebrate his return, and I can wear it then.”
Rosina bit her lip but forced a smile. “That is very good, Mary.”
“It’s because he’s my father,” Mary stated matter of factly, but her glance at her mother was asking a question. “At least, that is what I believe.”
The other women in the room were pretending not to listen but Rosina was well aware they were. Even Elspit, a moment ago asleep, had lifted her head and opened her eyes.
“He is your father, Mary. He has been … away but now he is returned with Ewen. But he will not be here for long. He is an important man and the duke needs him.”
Mary thought about this. “He said that even when he leaves he will write to me. I do not write very well. I should practise my letters so that I can write back.”
Rosina felt her chest ache. Her daughter, who was the worst of pupils, had suddenly decided she needed to learn to write better so that she could respond to her father’s letters. “Then you must certainly pay attention next time you have a lesson, Mary.”
Her daughter nodded solemnly. “I will. I promised Dug … I promised my father.”
There was a collective sigh in the room, as if all the ladies felt the emotion. Elspit smiled at her friend. “Dugald is very good at getting people to do things for him,” she said to no one in particular. “That is why the duke likes him, according to Ewen.”
There seemed little to say to that. Rosina had already guessed that Dugald had risen far and would rise even further. She could not expect him to remain here, and nor did she want him to. And even if she wanted to cling to him, he was like a slippery fish that would never be in her grasp for long. What did it matter what they did in the short time he remained at Tighe? She wanted him and he wanted her, she could at least be honest about it. Why did she have to make everything so difficult? It wasn’t as if they were hurting anyone … except, she admitted, herself. Dugald had made her an offer and at that moment Rosina recklessly decided to take it.
Chapter 7
DUGALD
Ewen was grateful for his help. Dugald and his elder brother always got along well, while the twins were naturally closer to each other, but the truth was all of the brothers were close. Perhaps it was because they had lost Auchiltie and had to flee for their lives, as well as their fierce determination to one day regain those lands.
Hamish and the twins were planning to leave Castle Tighe soon, and return to Auchiltie, and Ewen would remain here with his wife. Dugald had meant to return to the duke as soon as possible, but for some reason he wasn’t willing to explore the days passed and he was still here. Ostensibly he remained to help Ewen with any rebellions that might be brewing, but if he was honest with himself it was all about Rosina.
When he had seen Rosina going into that cottage the other morning he’d acted without a thought for his own safety. She was in danger and he needed to protect her. She’d been upset and angry with him, and then, on the walk back to the castle, she had argued with him.
Go away, Dugald. You are leaving anyway.
The proposal had spilled out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to stop and consider. Dugald’s mind was as cold and sharp as the steel blade of his sword. He saw a problem and then he worked out how to solve it. He admitted he wanted her, as much and as often as possible. She wanted him too, he had proven that to her. Surely his offer was the best solution for them both? They could scratch this inconvenient itch and then he would be on his way and she could continue with her life here at Tighe. They would communicate when it was necessary for Mary’s future, but other than that, it would be over.
Then why did it not feel right? Yes, he lusted after her like a stag in rutting season, but that was just a small part of the whole. From the moment he had set eyes on her again, her beaut
iful face and her stormy grey eyes, he had felt as if his world were no longer the same. The bright future he was headed for dimmed and darkened, and no matter how he tried to tell himself this desire for Rosina was only a temporary thing, it was a lie. God help him, he wanted her back. All of her. The thought of her wandering around unprotected … no, he wanted to be the man standing at her back, ready to step in at the first sign of danger. He wanted to hold her tight in his arms and bring the smile back to her lips and sweep the clouds from her eyes.
Did Rosina want that too? Was that why she had looked so sad? Because he was leaving her again?
“Dugald.” He looked up at the sound of the sweet voice and saw Mistress Stewart lingering in the doorway to the armoury. She appeared uncertain and he smiled a welcome. He felt a little sorry for her. Until she returned to the duke’s household, she was stuck with his father watching over her like a hawk.
“I wondered if you were returning to the duke’s castle soon,” she said in a rush, and he saw that her cheeks were flushed. Frowning, he wondered if one of the men had been trying to flirt with her, or taking unwelcome liberties.
“Do you wish to leave?” he asked her. “I can arrange—”
She looked startled. “Oh … I … I am grateful, thank you, but I don’t wish to leave. Your father is planning to return to Auchiltie, and he is worried it will not be in a fit state. I know those who drove you out of your home were not kind people. I think he believes I will be overcome at the sight and he wants to see me safe back with the duke.”
Dugald nodded, wondering where this conversation was going. “My father is right. It will be a shambles, Mistress Stewart. You would be better off returning to—”
“But I don’t want to!” The words seemed torn from her, and her blush grew even more obvious. “I’m sorry,” she softened her voice, “but you don’t understand. I have no family. I have lived my whole life in the households of powerful men. Since I was given into your father’s care I feel as if suddenly I have a family. I have a purpose. These past days in Tighe I have felt of use, Dugald, and I don’t want that to stop! I want to go with him and your brothers to Auchiltie. Yes, everything might be a mess, but I don’t mind that. I want to be of help, don’t you see?”
Dugald looked into her blue eyes, at the earnest belief in them, and sighed. He did see. The trouble was he doubted his father would.
“I will speak to him,” he said. “I will do my best, Mistress.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
After she left he went back to his task, looking through weapons and armour that had not seen any repairs or cleaning for a very long time. He would need to arrange such details and without delay. He was holding up a rusty axe with a chunk out of the blade when the door opened again.
Biting back an impatient sigh, Dugald turned to face the interruption. Rosina stood behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she began, seeing his frown. “I can return later.”
He moved before she could leave, his hand on her shoulder. He closed the door with his boot and spun her around. Her eyes widened when she looked up at him, but she didn’t struggle or push him away. She was holding her breath and waiting, and that was when he knew.
She was here to tell him yes.
Suddenly he was full of a raging passion. He ducked his head, taking her mouth with his, not sparing her. It wasn’t enough. He was trying not to admit that it never would be.
She made one of her little sounds under his lips and he felt her tongue tentatively brushing his. He groaned, hands sliding down her arms to her waist, tugging her slender body against his harder one. Her breasts pressed to his chest and this time there was no doubt about how she felt. He reached to cup her warm flesh, his thumb rubbing over the hard point. She didn’t stop him or protest and his mouth closed over her through the cloth of her bodice.
“Dugald,” she gasped, clutching his head. She wanted this; she didn’t have to tell him. In fact he was done with talking. He was done with thinking.
He stepped around her and barred the door. They should be safe here, for a time at least, and although it was hardly the setting for seduction that he’d planned, at least they were alone. Castle Tighe was bursting at the seams right now, and any small piece of solitude was something to celebrate.
When he turned back to Rosina, she was watching him. She looked rumpled and her eyes were heavy with desire. For him. She came into his arms at the same time as he reached for her. The buttons on her bodice proved no problem, and he murmured praise at the sight of her full, creamy breasts tipped with rose. She was more opulent than before and he supposed that was because of his child, and knowing that ... It almost sent him over the edge as he covered first peak with his mouth, sucking deep, and then the other, and she arched toward him with a gasp.
Her fingers were clinging onto his shoulders, digging in as if she’d never let him go. He needed her. His cock was aching to be inside her.
A glance over his shoulder showed him the narrow bed he’d already noticed. It was set up for when a soldier on guard was needed in here. He suspected the bedding wasn’t as clean as it could be, but there was a cloak hanging over a chair that looked cleaner, and he threw it over the mattress, and turning, took Rosina’s hand.
She stumbled slightly and then her eyes flicked from the bed to him, and she tried to pull back, as if realising what he was about.
He stilled her, running his nose down her cheek to her neck and then sucking tenderly on her skin, where the pulse fluttered. She whimpered, “Dugald.”
“We both need this,” he said with certainty.
She swallowed and then gave a shaky nod. “Yes. We need to work this … this madness out of our blood.”
He wasn’t sure it would ever be that easy, but he didn’t want to argue with her right now. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the bed and knelt down in front of her. Her skirts were worn—he noticed a darn near the hem—and something about her obvious poverty made his stomach clench. She deserved the finest silks but this was not the time to discuss items of clothing … except to take them off.
The fastenings were soon undone and her skirts fell in a puddle around her shoes. Her stockings went as far as her knees and after that her warm, ivory flesh was all his. With a muttered curse he ran his hands up her legs, squeezing her plump bottom and burying his face in the curls of dark hair on her mound. She smelt of feminine arousal. She smelt of Rosina.
Tentatively, as if to steady herself, her hands came to rest on his head and then her fingers were sliding through his hair, tugging until he lifted his face upwards. She was flushed, her eyes glittering, her lips swollen. She wanted him, but he could also see the doubt that lay just below the surface.
“Breathe,” he told her, “because in a moment you won’t be able to.”
Before she could answer, he leaned forward, parted her thighs, and swiped his tongue through her folds. Her fingers tightened painfully but there was pleasure in knowing he could make her lose herself like that. He found the little nub and circled it with his tongue before giving it a hard suck.
Her hips bucked against him and she moaned so loudly he wondered if the guard on the gate could hear her. He continued to lap at her, aware of just how wet she was getting, and the little shivers of her muscles as he pushed her toward orgasm.
His fingers rubbed and then dove inside her, and suddenly she was gasping a half scream as she clenched around him. He licked a little more, mainly because it felt so good to make her lose control like this, a woman who he suspected rarely lost control. By the time he stood up and began to unfasten his kilt, she had collapsed onto the bed and was blinking up at him. Her hair was falling down and her breasts were rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He noted a mark on her neck, one that he had made.
He liked his mark on her. He liked other men knowing she was his. He felt completely primitive and he didn’t care.
Rosina reached for him as soon as she saw how hard and ready
he was, but Dugald climbed over her, pressing her to the bed, and clasped her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head. He covered her face with kisses, before running his tongue down over her breasts, and soon she was writhing against him. That was when he thrust his hips and drove deep inside her welcoming body.
It was just as good as he’d remembered. Better. She closed around him, warm and wet and so ready. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around him, pushing back, and he heard himself groan. He changed his grip so that one hand was holding her wrists, and she didn’t struggle. It was as if she liked him to hold her, and he wondered if it was because she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to fight with her own feelings, and could just let go. His other hand he used to squeeze her breasts before reaching down between her thighs and finding her already swollen nub. He used this thumb on her and then pinched, and she rose up with a cry, tremors running through her, her body clenching on him so that he had no choice but to go with her.
The intense feeling of pleasure seemed to go on and on.
What seemed a long time later he felt her hand rest on his nape, her fingers gently stroking through his hair.
“I only came to ask you about a guard to go with me to visit Kenny,” she said.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, and then he smiled, and then he laughed. There was an answering sparkle in her grey eyes, but he could see those doubts beginning to circle too. He refused to let them.
“Come to my bed tonight,” he said, bending to press his lips to the warm curve of her shoulder.
“I don’t—”
“You do. We will do this, Rosina. Until this thing, whatever it is, has run its course.” If it runs its course.
“Yes,” she whispered against his skin.
Relieved he turned his head and nuzzled into her.
“I should go,” she said, trying to rise.
