Highland Revenge
Page 6
"I just want to make sure ye are all right, wee one,” he said gently. “That was a good hard spanking I gave ye, and I want to make sure I wasn't too harsh for ye to ride tomorrow.” He held out his hand and was rewarded when her small one finally crept forward and placed itself in his. He could feel her trembling when he pulled her forward, and she waited while he unfastened her riding skirt so it could be taken down. She looked up at him, and then quickly lay down, refusing to lower her knickers.
Gallagher kneeled beside her and slipped his hand into the waistband of the white cotton garment, and then slid it down, his palm caressing over the still warm mounds of smooth flesh as he went.
It was his turn to tremble as he viewed the pale flesh in the moonlight, brightened to a deep pink, and welted in the middle of her buttocks, extending towards the tops of her thighs. He leaned over and checked carefully for any purpling and realized that there was some. She would have some bruises by morning, he was sure. He swore softly to himself ... he should have bared her in spite of the open location, just to make sure that didn't happen. They had a few more days of riding before they arrived at the castle, and he hadn't wanted to make her suffer unduly ... just teach her a lesson in obedience. Her skin was delicate, yet supple and firm, and he was fairly certain she hadn't been spanked before, not from the looks of the bruises that were so quickly coming up.
"Ye are going to be pretty uncomfortable tomorrow,” he growled, sliding her knickers back up.
Eileen rolled quickly away from him and stood up, reaching for her skirt. She felt safer once it was fastened back in place. His hand caressing her sensitive flesh had made her very uncomfortable, more so than the pain of the spanking he had given her.
"I'll manage,” she said tightly as she walked over to Delilah. She took her bedroll off the back of the horse and spread it out on the ground in quick efficient movements. Then she unsaddled Delilah and laid the saddle at the top of the blankets; it would be her pillow. She had no intention of sharing Gallagher's blanket. She put the hobbles on Delilah so she could graze, but not wander too far and then fished in her saddlebags for some bread and dried meat.
She could feel Gallagher watching her, and she avoided meeting his probing gaze. She had learned long ago not to challenge a man by looking him directly in the eye ... not much different than a bull in that respect. As long as she kept her head bowed around Donald, she hadn't had to worry about him backhanding her. It was when she looked up in defiance to face him that he usually walloped her across the cheek. It didn't keep her from thinking defiantly, though, and she had managed to get through the long days until the old Laird had finally died.
Eileen sneaked a glance at Gallagher when she felt he wasn't looking, and then slid away from his brooding gaze when it returned to rest on her. She wasn't going to give him any excuse to use her or accuse her of inviting him to share her bed. She ate in silence, staring at the moonlight dappling across the brook, the sound of the stream's watery meanderings soothing her tired mind.
When she finally realized that Gallagher wasn't eating, she asked him stiffly if he would like some dried meat and bread. Perhaps, he had lit out after her so fast he hadn't had time to get anything, or hadn't thought about it. Either way, it was probably her fault he didn't have any food.
When he came over and eased down beside her, she automatically stiffened and moved away, although she did hand him her bag with the food in it. When his lean fingers brushed against hers, a mental image of those fingers smacking against her bare bottom the day before flashed through her mind, and she shivered.
Gallagher took the bag from her, capturing her own slender fingers and looking into her dark eyes. “Is that all ye would like to share?” He asked softly, feeling her tremble.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Five
Eileen just stared at him, her eyes wary and scared. “Ye know the conditions of our marriage, and I'll be holding ye to them,” she said through stiff lips. “Kindly go back to your own blanket!"
Gallagher studied her pale face, wondering what exactly had happened to make her so terrified. For that's what she was, he could see it in her eyes, the fear that made them huge and dark. He felt his anger kindle at her unknown assailant and, impulsively, he reached out to touch her face again. When she jerked back and shrank to the side, he was instantly contrite. “I'm sorry, wee one, I shouldn't have moved so fast; I've spooked ye again."
Eileen cursed herself for her reaction. “Nay, tis I who am sorry. Ye have promised not to hit me, and I will try to abide by your word ... until ye've broken it anyway,” she added.
She held her head up proudly, not flinching this time when he slowly put his hand to her face and stroked her creamy cheek. His touch made her tremble, and she cursed herself again, vowing not to let this man see how he affected her ... hating herself because he did affect her.
"I'll not be breaking my word, ye can count on that.” He leaned in towards her, unable to resist the lure of those trembling lips. He stopped when a single word came forth.
"Don't."
He drew back. “What is it? Do ye find my touch so repulsive?” When she didn't answer, he leaned towards her again, moving slowly in case she denied him again. When she said nothing, he laid his firm mouth on hers, gently, afraid of rushing her.
Eileen braced herself to endure his mouth, and she stiffened, waiting for the revulsion to cause bile to rise up in her throat. He ... had forced his kiss on her, made her take it, his disgusting tongue wrapping itself around her own. She hadn't been able to keep from gagging and then he had slapped her. On several occasions, he had slapped her, whipping her head back and forth with the force of his hand because she had found him repulsive.
Much to her surprise, she didn't find Gallagher's touch offensive, yet her fear would not let her enjoy his kiss. It might lead to other things ... things she would never allow to happen again ... not if she had a choice in the matter.
When he lifted his head and looked down at her, Eileen didn't turn away. She traitorously found herself wondering what it would be like to stay married to this man, perhaps try to have a normal life ... maybe even have more children. She surprised herself with her errant thoughts. She had only known Gallagher a brief time, and he wasn't interested in her, only his inheritance.
Still, his eyes mesmerized her in the moonlight, their depths dark and mysterious, yet filled at that moment with kindness ... and something else. She could tell he wanted her ... badly. She feared that more than anything. She had no intention of allowing her body to be used once again.
"Was that so bad?” Came the soft query.
She licked her lips, formulating a reply. She was completely unaware that this simple gesture fueled Gallagher's already kindled desires, and made him want to crush her to him, to take that teasing pink tongue into his own mouth. “I'll not be sharing your blanket with ye, if that's what ye mean."
Gallagher reluctantly put a hobble on his desires. “Will ye tell me about it, Eileen?"
"Tell ye about what?"
"About the man that put this fear of lovemaking into your heart and body. After all, we are married. Why shouldn't we enjoy each other for as long as it lasts?"
His silvery eyes glinted down at her, and Eileen's patience broke. What was it with these men?
"And why don't ye go straight to hell,” she snapped. “Is that all ye men think about? Your pleasure ... and your sons?"
Gallagher's head snapped back as if she had struck him physically, his mouth tightening in anger at the implied insult. “And are ye so bitter and withdrawn that ye have no desire for pleasure? Did ye think I would really set ye aside after the year was up, if ye were carrying my child? What sort of man do ye think I am?"
Eileen lashed out, her bitterness and fury at Donald Brincairn making her throw caution to the winds. “And what manner of a man are ye? Why should I think the apple falls far from the tree? The Earl wanted a son and was desperate to get one ... and he did ... he
made sure of that! And all the while his own anger and jealousy were raging inside him, causing him to mistreat and hurt me because he wasn't man enough to do the job himself!” As soon as she spoke, Eileen knew she had gone too far!
Gallagher was shocked, fury ripping through him at her words. “Are ye saying what I think ye are?” His eye's glinted, their silvery depths gone deep and dark as he stared at her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, oblivious of her shrinking back. “My father had ye attacked? Is that what ye are saying? Answer me!"
Eileen put her arms up in front of her face and whimpered, her fear paralyzing her. She shouldn't have let her anger get the best of her, she should have known better! You don't challenge men like this without a weapon in your hand, they just hurt you more than your words ever hurt them!
Gallagher silently cursed himself at her reaction, and cursed his father's memory as well.
"Eileen ... lass ... don't be afraid, ye have done nothing wrong. It's my father that has my anger stirred.” He eased her close to his chest, holding her shaking body, feeling a fierce surge of protectiveness sweep over him. This girl had obviously suffered greatly at the hands of his evil father ... for Gallagher finally realized that Donald Brincairn had been evil. Only a devil would do such a thing to a young innocent girl for the sake of revenge! He held his wife close and talked to her, trying to sooth her as best he could.
"I don't know what all happened, Eileen, but I hope ye will trust me enough to tell me one day. I thought I knew my father, but it appears I was wrong. He was more evil than I gave him credit for.” He rubbed his big hand gently up and down her slender back, soothing her as he would a small child.
Finally, when he felt her trembling beginning to subside, he tipped her chin up to study her ashen face in the moonlight. “I'm telling ye, lass ... once and for all. I don't hit women. If ye make me angry, and I know ye will ... I will still never hit ye. If ye misbehave, I will take ye over my lap and give you a good spanking, but I will never hurt ye. Ye have my word of honor on that. Ye may feel free to say whatever ye like, whenever ye like and hold your head up high. Ye may find yourself looking at the floor with your bare arse over my knee, but ye may always speak your mind. Twill be up to ye as to whether a sore arse is a consequence ye wish to live with for deliberate rudeness to your husband."
His gentle finger brushed across her smooth, pale cheek. “I demand your respect, as your husband, but I make no demands on your body. I will, however, accept whatever you choose to bestow and hope for more. I won't promise not to try and change your mind, but I will never do anything ye don't want me to."
Eileen searched his face, hearing his sincerity, but not knowing for sure she could trust it. Would he really keep his word if he got furious with her? So far he had! She had already stolen his horse and forced him to come several miles on foot. He had spanked her for that, but he hadn't tried to strike her in any other way.
"Seeing is believing,” she said finally, drawing back from him with a stifled yawn that brought tears to her eyes. She was utterly exhausted. “I'll be holding ye to your word about sharing my bed, so off to your own blanket.” She stared pointedly at the other blanket, and he grinned down at her. Her impudent little nose was in the air, and she looked so cute, like an affronted kitten.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you so soon, lass, but we will be sharing a blanket.” He reached over and pulled his own blanket over to hers.
"But ... you said...” Eileen spluttered.
Gallagher put a large finger on her lips. “Hush now, ye will be safe. But it's going to be chilly tonight, so we might as well both have a blanket to lie on and one to cover us with. Don't worry; I'm not going to take advantage of ye. Now lay down.” He motioned her to lie down, and he covered her with his blanket when she grudgingly did so. He stayed up and watched the licking flames of the fire, waiting for her to relax a little before he lay down beside her. He hoped she would be too tired to voice any more protests.
Eileen lay stiffly with her back to him, waiting for him to position himself beside her. When he didn't, she looked cautiously around and saw him sitting cross-legged, staring into the fire. He certainly didn't seem overcome with lust or desire! Perhaps, she could afford to relax a little, although she was sure it would be a long night. She would have to keep careful watch to make sure he didn't try anything in her sleep. She yawned deeply once again and tried valiantly to stay awake, but exhaustion finally overcame her, and she slipped into a troubled sleep.
It wasn't long before Gallagher heard her breathing deepen, and he grinned in satisfaction. Surely, she must be learning to trust him some, or else she would be wide-awake still. He banked the fire and then slipped in behind her, cupping his body around hers. She felt good there in his arms, and he held her, ignoring the stiffening of a certain part of his anatomy. He was man enough to control his desires ... or at least man enough not to act on them. He groaned silently ... it might be a long night after all!
He focused his thoughts on his father to distract himself and wondered exactly what had happened. He needed to have a long talk with Jamie when next he saw him. Who was Soren's father if it hadn't been the Laird? How had his father gotten away with such a preposterous scheme? There were too many unanswered questions, and asking Eileen only hurt her in the retelling. It was obvious she had suffered greatly at the hands of Donald Brincairn. His arms tightened protectively around her slender frame. She wouldn't be hurt anymore ... not if he had anything to say about it!
Eileen waited in the huge bed on the stone blocks, knowing he would be coming once again. It had been thus for several nights now. Her hands were cold as ice in spite of the warm summer night. Donald had seen her to bed each night, watching as she took off her clothing and got in between the sheets.
During the day, she endured the whispers of the servants and the goading of her husband, and at night, she endured the use of her body against her will. He had never hurt her, apart from that first time, but she resented what she was forced to accept, and the bitterness and rage increased in her heart each time she was forced to submit to his ministrations. It was ugly, but her youth and love for life and the child she might already be carrying, gave her the strength she needed to go on. There was no escape ... Donald had seen to that. No one would help her, although she had tried. He had even removed Melba from her care during those long three weeks, making sure she had no one to turn to.
"This will be the last time, lass,” Donald said to her, “and within the next few weeks, we should know if ye are carrying my son."
She wanted to rage at him, to ask him what if the child were a girl, what then? But the madness in his eyes told her he was unreasonable. When Donald left the room, she knew HE was there.
She trembled at the sound of clothing being dropped and once again her eyes strained to see his features. It was no use; of course ... the darkness hid her tormentor. “Why are ye doing this?” She whispered in anguish.
"Because I have to,” came the harsh whisper in reply. “I don't have a choice either, lass. We are both cursed to be in Donald Brincairn's evil grasp.” Then he was on her, rubbing against her, his erection rising in spite of her protests. The heavy cream was once again forced between her legs and then he rolled between her thighs, his heavy shaft penetrating her quickly. “I'm sorry, lass, I truly am,” he grunted, but he thrust quickly into her, just the same.
Eileen couldn't help herself, she beat at his shoulders with her fists, moaning and crying out in protest at his heartless invasion of her innocent body. “No ... please ... don't!"
Gallagher felt her stir in her sleep, moaning and turning onto her back. He had finally drifted off himself in the wee hours of the morning, but he was so aware of her beside him, that he wasn't sleeping deeply.
He propped up on his elbow to study her face in the moonlight, and then leaned down to try to catch her words. He was caught off guard when she began thrashing and hitting at him with her fists, her cries filled with desperation and despair.
"Wake up, Eileen,” he commanded her urgently, holding her down. Her eyes shot open and she stilled, wide-eyed and obviously disoriented.
"Gallagher?” Her voice was strained, her chest heaving as she fought off the demons that plagued her. Talking about this just before bedtime had obviously brought the memories back to the surface of her mind, and the old dreams had recurred.
"Aye, it's me. Ye are safe, wee one ... safe in the arms of your husband. No one will ever hurt ye again."
"Don't make promises ye can't keep,” she reminded him bitterly, but she did feel safe at that moment, the blackness of the dream beginning to fade. The reality of Gallagher's warm body pressing down on her own told her he could be trusted, just as she had known the moment her body had conceived life. She had also known it would be a son.
Relief had warred with disgust when that knowledge became hers, but she was thankful that the nights of invasion were over. She was also bitter that Donald Brincairn had achieved his aim, and a son was going to be born. She didn't tell him that, though, she hugged the secret to herself, enjoying watching him suffer for all those months awaiting Soren's birth, agonizing over the possibility it might be a girl. It had been a small revenge, but satisfying none the less.
"This is one promise I intend to keep,” he said darkly, thinking of Canton. She stared up at him, letting him keep her small hands in his own, and he stared back, content to stay there as long as she would allow it. One of his long legs was between her thighs, his body half on hers, and he wanted to make love to her desperately, to fuse his own body with her feminine counterpart. He wanted to erase the imprint of the nightmare and create lovely dreams for her to go to sleep with, but he resisted. He was surprised when she took her hands from his and her arms crept up around his neck, pulling him suddenly closer.