by Reece Butler
She made herself think positively and look forward to a visit from his two youngest brothers. She would look for berries and make them tarts. The others, she wasn’t as sure of.
While she enjoyed the company of Parlan Murray she didn’t know anything about his young wife. She hoped Eunice would be friendly and helpful. Having another woman carrying a babe, one a few months ahead of her, would give her an idea of what to expect. If the woman was a useless thing, expecting servants to tend to her, she could stay in her chamber, out of their way.
Janet pulled her aside as she came into the kitchen for her basket of bread, cheese, and ale, covered with a cloth.
“Ye must tell him of yer babe. He needs to ken it to protect ye.” Janet pressed her hand on Isabel’s arm. “’Tis best if a wife tells him, than another.”
“He said he would speak truth to me. I can do no less.”
* * * *
Rory held Isabel in his lap with one hand on her breast. Tearlach had explained about what was to come, including the threat from Graham. It was time to enjoy their meadow while it was still private. He had a raging hard-on, one that needed release. From the way Isabel squirmed in his lap she needed it as well.
“Ye can wiggle all ye like, wife, but I willna let ye go,” he said.
“There are things I need to say, and I dinna wish be mauled by ye while doing so.”
“Mauled, is it?” He nipped her neck, causing a squeak. “I can do far worse.”
“Rory, I be serious!”
“Do ye mean to tell us of the babe ye are carrying?”
She froze. So did Tearlach, though his eyes widened as if he faced a wild boar. He felt Tearlach’s shock. His twin would need time to adjust to becoming a father. He was more concerned if Isabel was upset he’d spoken of it rather than have her break the news.
“Ye kenned I am carrying a babe?” Her voice wavered. “How, when I just learned of it?”
“Isabel,” he murmured, “ye’ve not had yer moon time since we met.” He kissed her temple, gently. “MacDougal seed is potent, lass. I hope ye caught our bairn at Duncladach, but it could have been here, in this very meadow, on our plaid.” Another kiss, this to her forehead. “Did ye wish to speak of it yerself, and I ruined it for ye?”
She shook her head. “I wasna sure how to say it.” Her tight muscles eased.
“Ye are carryin’ our bairn?”
Tearlach barely whispered the words. His face was white, his eyes wide. He was in shock, but in a good way. Isabel trembled again. Did she think Tearlach was angry? She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded, the back of her head rubbing against Rory’s chest. Tearlach jammed his eyes shut, his face grimacing as if in pain. Silent tears leaked from Isabel’s eyes.
“Brother,” he warned, “ye are scaring our wife. She thinks ye be angry—”
“Angry?” Tearlach’s eyes shot open. “How could I be angry when hearing of the greatest gift a woman can give a man? Sweetling, I be so happy that I canna think. I need to hold ye, lass.”
He held out his shaking arms to her. Rory slammed his knees together to protect himself as she scrambled off his lap. She threw herself at his twin. Tearlach cradled her, cross-legged, as she curled into him.
“When ye said naught I thought ye were angry with me.” Her voice quavered with emotion.
“Why would ye think that?” murmured Tearlach. He brushed a stray curl from her face.
“Ye said ye wished to send me away to be safe. Rory got ye to say nay. I worried that if ye kenned we had a child ye would wish to keep us safe, far from ye.” She placed her small palm on his cheek. “I dinna wish to be anywhere but with ye.” She held out her other hand to Rory. “And with ye as well.”
He moved over, taking her chilled hand in his.
“Well then,” said Tearlach gruffly. He cleared his throat. “Now that I ken ye are carrying our bairn…” He shook his head, brows low. “I told the herald I dinna ken what I would do if ye were harmed,” said Tearlach. “’Tis even worse now.”
“Worse?” she whispered.
“Brother,” said Rory, seeing her shrink again, “Isabel thinks ye dinna wish her.”
“What? How could she think that when I love her?”
Tearlach stared at Isabel. Both had dropped their jaws. She was the first to blink.
“Ye love me?” she whispered.
Tearlach looked stunned. Rory could feel his shock, and understood. He’d had longer to accept that he loved their wee wife.
“Ye are wildly happy and terrified at once,” said Rory to Tearlach. “Love does that to ye. Dinna fash, brother, I figured out I loved Isabel days ago. The shock will ease with time.” He kissed Isabel’s palm, curling her fingers over the silent promise.
“Ye love me, too?” She turned her dazed eyes on him. He fell into their depths.
“Aye. Ye poor woman, ye have a pair of MacDougal brothers declaring their love of ye with naught but words. I would have a ring for ye made. For now, a kiss and a promise will have to do.”
“Isabel wears the scent we chose and she will one day wear my ring,” said Tearlach. He waited for her to look at him. “Though mayhaps we could choose one together.” He kissed her nose. “There’s my kiss, and though I’ve not thought to say it afore, I’ve loved ye awhile, wife. And I promise to keep doing so.”
Tears spilled over her cheeks. Tearlach looked stricken.
“Dinna cry, dearling,” he whispered.
“They be tears of joy,” she replied. “For I love ye both. I thought after all ye’ve gone through at Duncladach, ye’d not be able to love.”
“I never kenned love until I met ye,” replied Tearlach. “I would have saved ye from Roderick Graham no matter what ye looked like, or who ye were. But never did I think how holding ye would feel. I’ll never cause ye harm.”
“Nor will I.” Rory nipped her fingers. “Though I’ve a mind to cause ye a wee bit of sting and turn yer bottom red.”
She jerked her hand away. Her glare, combined with streaks of happy tears, showed her complexity. He liked that she was not predictable.
“I’ve done naught wrong!”
Rory made a great pretense of thinking, frowning and rubbing his jaw.
“Ye are wrong, wife. Ye sassed one of us the other day. And I’m sure ye complained about sommat while riding from Duncladach.”
“Nay, brother,” said Tearlach. His voice was lighter. “She needs punishment for not telling us Somerled made her work so hard. A husband should ken when another man gives his wife orders, even if he is their laird.”
“I wanted to show ye I could do a good job!”
Though she complained, her eyes shone with eagerness. Rory slid his hand up her leg. The way Tearlach held her, his hand went a long way. She caught her breath when he reached her inner thigh. Moaned when his finger found her swollen, wet lips.
“Our wife is ready and eager for our cocks,” he said. “Methinks we fill her pussy first and spank later.”
“Aye, and then repeat it until she understands who is the laird and who is the wife.”
Chapter 16
Isabel’s heart was in her throat again. It had been an emotionally draining day and was not yet over. She needed them, and what they could give her. Release and comfort, and love.
“I need ye, lass.” Tearlach tugged at her skirts. “I need to bury my face in yer wee puss and lick yer cream until ye come. I need to fill ye with my cock and empty my soul into ye.”
It sounded so good. She shuffled her hips to release her skirts, allowing his fingers to reach her pussy. She groaned, leaning back, exposing herself to his fingers.
“Kenning my babe grows in ye makes me hard,” said Tearlach.
Rory lifted her skirts up, bringing a needed cooling. He caught them in one fist at her back. Tearlach dropped to his back. Rory guided her down until her knees rested either side of her husband’s ears.
“What are ye—” The first swipe of Tearlach’s tongue answere
d her question.
He growled, palms gripping her arse cheeks as his tongue and lips devoured her. She was so aroused to begin with that the onslaught made her peak almost instantly. She burst, shuddering over him.
She sagged in relief, palms resting on his chest, still needy but not as desperate. Tearlach pushed up on her arse while Rory’s hands guided her body. Confident in their strength, she kept her eyes closed as they handled her. The familiar texture and scent of her man’s plaid under her knees and palms made her smile.
Kneeling on the plaid meant an eager cock or two was in her near future. She waited, panting from her orgasm. A hand lifted her chin. She scented his cock before it nudged at her lips. She greedily took him in her mouth, eager for his taste. That sharp, salty tang made her groan. She took him deep, his cock sliding over her tongue. A moment, and he pulled out. She looked up, frowning at Rory.
Tearlach’s low growl warned her before he thrust into her pussy. Her head dropped as she arched her back to encourage him. His thick cock pressed tight against her swollen flesh, cleaving her as he surged all the way. She gritted her teeth, hissing as he hit bottom.
“Those teeth are why I pulled out of yer succulent mouth, wife.”
Tearlach stayed still, balls deep in her, while Rory loosened her gown. Her breasts spilled out. Tearlach leaned forward to grasp them in his giant palms. He molded them as he slowly pumped, raising her need again. He grimaced, breath rasping as he fought to move slowly. Was he punishing her, or himself, with the slow torture?
She clenched him, pulsing. He growled a warning before his hands moved to her hips. He yanked, hauling her arse to slam against his groin. Again and again he filled her to the hilt with the big hard cock she needed so much. He roared, filling her with his come. She was almost there when he sagged, gasping for breath.
“Not again!” she wailed.
She heard a slap. It wasn’t her flesh, but Tearlach’s. He grunted.
“Get out of the way so I can pleasure our wife,” ordered Rory. Tearlach grunted again but pulled out and rolled away. She tightened her pussy, expecting Rory’s cock to fill her. Instead, his fingers played with her arse.
“I need ye inside me!”
His finger skewered deep. She gasped at the intense sensation.
“Ye’ll get what I choose to give ye,” he replied with lazy arrogance.
She was too needy to put up with it! Her fingers found her clit as Rory slowly filled her. He moved his hips in time with his finger. Both were far too slow!
Tearlach lifted her shoulders. “Both hands on my plaid,” he ordered.
Though furious at being caught and her needs ignored, she set her fists on the cloth. “I want my pussy fingered!”
“Ye’ll have my tongue instead.”
He ducked his head under her belly. As promised, his tongue touched her clit, working it while his hands played with her nipples. That was far better. Fingers on both nipples, mouth on clit, finger in arse and cock in pussy. It would be perfect if Rory would just speed up!
She clenched him, commanding more. His response was a slap to her arse.
“Did I say ye could do that?” he demanded.
The sting made her pant. Close, but not enough. Instead of answering she did it again, tighter. His second swat, along with Tearlach’s tongue and fingers, was all she needed to set her off. As she exploded Rory’s curses filled her ears. His cock, slamming into her pussy, sent her higher.
She laughed in the sheer joy of sharing herself and her life with the men she loved. She was still giggling when everything faded.
Deep murmurs sifted through the hissing in her ears. Rory was still in her though they lay on their left sides. He had his upper arm over hers, his palm around her bottom breast. That meant it must be Tearlach playing with her hair.
“That wife of yers best learn to obey her husbands.” Rory’s voice rumbled through his chest to her back as well as over her head.
She pressed her lips together to stop a smile. She would obey them. When she wished. Over time Rory would learn how Calltuin worked. Though if Tearlach was sent more lads to train Rory would be working with his twin rather than farming with her. That was fine, as she liked making decisions for her land.
“Aye. We’ll have thirty years or more to teach her to obey.”
Tearlach did not sound upset. She lay still, feigning sleep, to hear what else they may say.
“What think ye of this love?” asked Rory.
The slow, steady beat of his heart against her back sped up. She opened her eyes a slit to see Tearlach when he didn’t reply. He used the tip of her braid to brush against his knuckles.
“’Tis more terrifying than a horde of Campbells.” His wry smile kept her from complaining. “I ken what to do with Campbells. This love…” He raised her hair to his cheek, now brushing it over his chin. “We’ll be fathers,” he whispered. “A miracle.”
“We’ll bounce them on our knees the way Mary did the wee ones,” murmured Rory. “They’ll run to us, smiling and calling us ‘Da.’” His hand tightened on her breast. “They’ll not cry in the night from the pain of an empty belly.” His voice hardened. “Nor will they scream, as did Torquil, from torture by an enemy.” He shuddered. “God, what they did to him. He was no older than wee Jenny, yet they cut him to ribbands and—”
She pressed her lips to stop her cries. He’d been only Jenny’s age?
“Hush,” ordered Tearlach, though his voice was soothing. “We all lived through it. Eight of us are married now, with two lassies and two sons born. If Isabel is carrying our son he will be the first MacDougal born free of the curse.”
Rory’s breath shuddered over her head. His hand relaxed, supporting her breast rather than clasping it.
“I wish for a wee lassie. One with Isabel’s beauty and laugh.”
“Nay, our lassie needs an older brother to protect her.” Tearlach chuckled. “She’d best be obedient as ’twill be hard to look into a wee face as sweet as our wife’s and tell her she has been naughty.”
“She will be as obedient as her mam,” replied Rory. “So ye ken what that means.”
“Aye.” Tearlach grunted, almost a laugh. “Our wife must spank her as we willna be able to make her cry.”
“Some warriors we be, scared of the tears of a babe,” said Rory.
Tearlach snickered. So did Rory. Both men burst out in laughter. Rory shook so hard she couldn’t pretend to sleep.
“What are ye laughing about?” she demanded, pretending to be cross.
“Bairns,” said Rory. “And how we willna be able to spank the lassies if it makes them cry.”
“I’ve not had to spank wee Jenny. Why would our lassies be any different?”
They looked at each other and snickered. “Because ye are their mam, and ye are a wee disobedient baggage.”
“Aye, and ye like me that way.”
Tearlach’s laugh faded. He dropped his head until their eyes were mere inches apart. “Nay, Isabel. I love ye that way.” He kissed her, a gentle brush of lips. “I mayna be able to spank our daughters, but I enjoy turnin’ yer arse red. But then, ye cry out in pleasure.”
Rory’s cock swelled inside her. She tightened her hold on him.
“Ye’ll get that red arse tonight, wife,” warned Rory.
He moved his hips, creating a comfortable friction that made her relax with a sigh. Tearlach danced the tip of her braid over her most ticklish spots.
“What of Somerled,” she asked. They both stopped, staring at her. “He will soon be wed.”
“What do ye ken of this?” demanded Tearlach.
“Yer laird will be married by proxy and his bride delivered to the gates of Duncladach. The king may send enough men to make sure he opens the gates. And,” she added, “they willna leave until the marriage is well consummated.” She shrugged. “If yer laird is like the rest of ye, he’ll soon have a babe growing in her, aye?”
They blinked as if in shock, having not thought of it.
Rory was the first to react. He chuckled.
“If he has a lassie, can ye imagine him swatting her as he did the rest of us?”
“I canna think of Somerled touching a wife, much less making a babe.” Tearlach shuddered.
“If he’s as lusty as the rest of ye he will do his duty to his clan and bed his wife, aye?” asked Isabel sweetly.
Rory’s chuckle started small. It built until he had to hold on to her to keep his cock from bouncing out from his belly laugh.
“What?” demanded Tearlach, his mouth curving up in reaction.
“Mayhaps…” Rory stopped to laugh again. “Mayhaps ’tis what he needs to make him mellow.”
“Mellow? Somerled?” Tearlach joined in the belly laughs.
Isabel had a different reaction. Having taken on such a heavy responsibility so young, Somerled did not know how to relax. Even now, everything he did was for survival. She’d made strawberry tarts one day. She could tell he wanted more than one. He’d looked at them with longing but when he saw his youngest brothers’ joy at tasting such a treat, he would not touch another. He’d spoken of work to be done and left the room, and the temptation.
He was a hard man, though not by choice. Sir Lion said the wife chosen for him had also been forced to live a hard life. Maybe the two of them could ease each other’s sorrow and pain. If he could find comfort in the arms of a woman it would change his life. And that would change the lives of all who lived with him.
“His wife will tame him with sex,” she said. It got their attention.
“Is that what ye try to do with us?” Tearlach’s soft murmur did not match the determination in his eyes.
“Nay,” she replied, shaking her head. “’Tis the two of ye who tame me that way.”
The look that shot between them made her groan. It was not a good thing to admit to a pair of lusty husbands. Rory’s cock swelled even more. Tearlach smirked. He reached out and pinched her free nipple.
