Captive Bride [Highland Menage 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  He helped her to sit up, supporting her while Angus brought a cup of cool, sweet water to her lips. She was parched, and drank as much as she could. That made another need apparent.

  “I’ve got to…”

  “Use the pot again?”

  “Again?” She looked from one to the other. Matching expressions of amusement flanked her. If she’d had a fever for days, not only would they have bathed her body, they would have taken care of her intimate needs. Heat, this time of embarrassment, flashed over her. “Nay!”

  “Dinna fash yerself, wee kitten,” said Gillis, highly amused. “We’ve touched near every inch of ye and ye didna complain.”

  “But—!”

  “We did it with respect, lass,” said Angus, his manner serious. “Aye, and a fair bit of worry. ‘Tis glad we are that ye survived. Ye were out of yer head a fair bit.”

  She struggled to rise, making it to her hands and knees before realizing how weak she was. Her need was too great to wait until she was steady enough to stand on her own. Though her face flamed during the process they treated her gently and efficiently, as she had Patrick when he was a child. They helped her back to her pallet and gave her ale. Angus took her blanket outside to freshen, leaving her unable to cover herself.

  She was no longer a virgin. Doing with Angus what she’d already done with Gillis would not change her status. They wore their plaids tucked in, leaving their broad chests, backs, and muscular arms bare. She watched them move, imagining her fingers sliding over them. She hadn’t seen Gillis’s cock though she’d enjoyed it immensely. She sipped as they tidied up the bothy. From the quick glances she caught they were as eager as she. When her cup was empty they set it aside and once more sat, flanking her. Their eyes scanned her body. Her breasts swelled, topped by hard nipples. Her pussy swelled as well, sending out damp messages of need.

  “What are ye going to do?” she asked, her voice a squeak.

  “We’d die to protect ye, but we’d rather live,” said Gillis, not answering her question directly. His palm brushed a breast, then weighed it. A hot tension made her clench. He dropped his head to her breast. His lips circled her nipple before gently drawing it into his mouth. She moaned. Her nipple popped out of his mouth. “Do ye want more, sweet Fiona?”

  Angus did the same to her other nipple before she could answer. He drew it into his mouth and bit gently. She gasped, her whole body tightening.

  “‘Tis good, aye?”

  She’d barely been kissed by Gillis and now both wished to lie with her? The servants complained that most men wanted to rut for their pleasure alone. When the maids found a man who thought of their needs, they grabbed him. These two men had already seen and touched her body, intimately. They’d done it to care for her, and now they wanted more. And they would give her far more than a quick rut.

  “There’s two of ye.” It was a statement, not a complaint.

  “Aye,” replied Gillis. “I told ye MacDougals make pair bonds. We find a wife together, sharing her and the raising of our children.”

  “I am nay yer wife.”

  The brothers shared a look, one she did not understand.

  “Do ye want us to stop?” asked Gillis. His fingertips trailed down her arm, tracing a line of fire and making it impossible for her to think.

  “We are safe on Cameron land,” said Angus. “We’ll go to Inverlochy Castle when ye are ready to travel. ‘Twill not be today, so we have time to give ye a wee taste of pleasure.” He caught her nipple between his knuckles and tugged. A matching jolt hit her pussy. “Lochiel, Laird Cameron, knows we are here, caring for ye.”

  “His men brought food and ale for ye,” added Gillis.

  “We must pass the day somehow,” said Angus. He placed one finger in her lower curls. She gasped at the intense sensation. He smiled at her, eyes half-closed like a contented cat. Though he barely moved his finger, she groaned in pleasure.

  “Aye, or nay, wife?” asked Gillis.

  Wife? She wanted pleasure from them, not to have them shackled to her rather than a well-dowered wife, though she did want them. She struggled to sit. One broad hand on her chest held her down.

  “I ne’er agreed to marry!” She glared at one, then the other.

  “Not yet,” said Gillis, grinning.

  “We let Cameron’s men think ye were a lad,” said Angus. “Yer fever’s broke, and now the laird will find out ye are a lass. Handfasting will protect ye, and yer reputation.”

  Gillis had shown her the one advantage of being a woman. It was pleasure, applied by his finger and cock. Ladies had a husband chosen for them and married young, often to a man they’d not met much before being bedded. Other females had a far different life. Servants in her father’s castle were his property, taken by him as he wished and given freely to his guests. Village girls met local boys and were handfasted, usually with their father’s permission, until a priest came by and formalized the ceremony, often baptizing a child or two at the same time.

  She was nothing, and had no one.

  The MacDougal clan was known to have little more than pride. Yet life with them as a handfasted wife could be far better than anything she’d yet known. She liked Gillis and Angus, and respected them. She also liked how Gillis made her burn with need. Jumping the broom would protect her and allow her to explore this new joy without sinning. If they did not suit, or if Gillis found a wealthy woman to wife, she could step away in a year if they had no babe.

  “Ye ken I have no dowry and would bring no alliance to yer clan.”

  “Then we are even,” said Angus softly. “We canna promise ye anything but hard work at Duncladach, crowded with hungry brothers.”

  “Ye are bonny, with fire and wit. I like you, wee Fiona.” Gillis’s eyes caressed her. “And I like that ye burn when we touch ye.”

  She did burn, and wanted them to do more than touch. These men did not give her sweet words such as young maids wished to hear. But then, she’d never wanted that. Her dreams were of finding a man who wanted all of her, not just her body. One who would speak with her, and listen. She hadn’t known what a man’s touch, or even his look, could do to arouse her until she rode Gillis in the dark.

  “What of your laird?” she asked. “He may not agree with ye marrying a bastard who kens little of woman’s work.”

  “Somerled and Niall would take one look at ye and curse that they’d not seen ye first,” said Gillis.

  “Ye drew enemies away from the heir,” said Angus, his expression far more serious. “Ye put yerself in grave danger of rape and worse. Ye have the body of a maid, but ye also have the heart of a warrior. For that alone our laird and our clan would welcome ye.”

  She was not convinced. She’d never fit in anywhere, having to hide her sex though it was an open secret. She was not welcome with the female servants, nor with the men. Her half brother treated her with contempt. Her only friend had been a battered old tomcat who had not made it through the winter. No matter what happened during a year of handfasting it had to be better than what she’d left behind. If she did not get with child and they abandoned her after a year, she would at least have had some joy and would be little worse off than she was now.

  “Are ye sure ye want me?” she asked hesitantly.

  “If ye had been raped and yer father’s men found ye and brought ye home what would yer laird father do with ye?” demanded Gillis.

  She pressed her lips together, shamed at the bitter truth. No, it was her father who should carry the shame.

  “He would rather I die in a ditch than return,” she replied bitterly. “If I lived through his beating he’d marry me off to a man living far away, one who’d use his fists to put me in my place.” She shook her head. “I canna go back.”

  The brothers shared a glance. They nodded once and turned to her.

  “Will ye marry us for a year and a day, Fiona Menzies?” asked Gillis. “We offer our sword arms to protect and defend ye.” His face went from serious to amused in the blink of
an eye. “And our fingers, tongues, and cocks to pleasure ye.”

  “And then?” she blurted. It was Angus who took her hands in his.

  “I canna speak for the future, of what may or may not. I like ye, and that’s more than most have. We’re rough men, raised without the gentle touch of women, so ye’ll nay hear soft words. Nor will ye hear lies said as promises. We will protect ye with our lives, and ye will belong to us.”

  “As we will belong to you,” added Gillis. “We’ll share what we have, and treat ye with respect and honor.”

  She hesitated. “Which one of ye?”

  “I saw Fiona first,” said Gillis, jumping in before his brother could answer.

  Angus narrowed his eyes, and then nodded. “Aye, but if Fiona marries with a priest ‘twill be me who speaks the vows.”

  Gillis reluctantly nodded agreement. When he turned to her his smile was eager. “Ye’ve just woken from a fever and are too weak to stand, much less jump a broom. Shall we have the bedding first?”

  He was right. If she couldn’t stand on her own she certainly couldn’t jump, even though he held her hand to support her. A wondrous ache flared through her body, waking all her senses. She cupped her breasts. They overflowed her small hands. Angus and Gillis stared, entranced at what she held.

  “I burn for ye,” she whispered.

  Chapter Six

  Gillis reached for Fiona. He’d barely touched her lips when he heard the whinnying of unfamiliar horses.

  “There’s someone out there!” Fiona whispered hoarsely.

  “Aye, ‘tis Cameron’s men,” said Angus with disgust. He rolled to his feet.

  A moment later the door burst open and Darach Cameron swept in. Fiona mewed, rolled over and stuck her face against his chest, exposing her backside. Gillis pulled his plaid over her bottom and held her tight as the groom-to-be peered down at them.

  “Ye said ye had a MacDougal lad, nay a lassie,” said Darach.

  “Ye misheard,” replied Gillis in a low growl. “Fiona’s my wife.” He adjusted the fabric, not wanting Darach to see what a tempting bundle she was. Once covered, her surprise dealt with, she peeked up at Darach.

  “Wife?” Darach snorted. “How did ye find yerself a wife?”

  “She dropped in on me, and I decided to keep her,” answered Gillis gruffly.

  “Fiona,” said Angus, “this great lug is Darach, Cameron’s third son. He’s to be married soon to some poor lassie.” He poured a cup of ale and offered it to Darach. “Fiona is Laird Menzies’s daughter.”

  Darach nodded his thanks. He frowned at her as he drank. “Menzies has no unmarried daughters, less she was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” He handed the empty cup back to Angus. “Ye always said ye’d marry a cow if it had a good a dowry. If she be a bastard ye’ll get nothing.”

  The word bastard had not bothered Gillis when it meant his half brothers. He did not like it used for his wife. Neither did Fiona. Face red in fury rather than arousal, unfortunately, she struggled to sit up. Gillis hid a chuckle at how easily he held her down with the fingers of one hand. But then she’d had a fever for more than three days. Give her a few weeks to recover, and he’d have to work harder at it. Not much, though. She was such a wee thing.

  Fiona had stopped struggling so Gillis released her. He immediately regretted it as she sat up and jabbed her elbow into his gut. He grunted, though it was more for show.

  “I can speak for meself, thank ye very much.” She held the corner of his plaid over her breasts as she peered at Darach before jerking her head toward the door. “You’ve satisfied yer curiosity. Now ye can leave.”

  Darach’s jaw dropped. He looked at her in delight and broke out into laugher. “Are ye sure ye want this wildcat, lads? My Isabel is a modest lady and knows her place. This one will scratch yer eyes out, or take a sgian dubh to ye if ye displease her.”

  Fiona bristled in his arms. Gillis gave her a squeeze of reassurance. She might be a bastard and have dressed and acted like a boy for years but he could see what Darach said hurt.

  “MacDougals like their women strong and feisty,” said Gillis. “Camerons are weak-kneed laddies.”

  Considering Camerons were associated with the phrase “fiercer than fierceness itself,” Gillis wasn’t worried about Darach showing anger at the mock insult. He made sure Fiona was covered with his plaid when he rose, naked, to his feet. He did not like looking up to any man. Darach glanced from his rampant cockstand to Fiona.

  “She’s nay over her fever,” said Gillis. “Soon as ye’ve gone we’ll solve my problem.” He turned to her. “Do ye think ye’ll stay awake long enough this time for us to have a second round, wife?”

  Fiona made a strangled noise. She pulled his plaid over her red face.

  “Could ye send a man with a dress so Fiona can ride in with dignity?” Angus pointed to her clothing, now dry.

  “Aye.” Darach’s slow grin made Gillis grind his teeth. What would he demand in return? “‘Twould be best if I see the size of the woman. So I can judge what clothes to send, ye ken.”

  “Ye can wait outside,” replied Gillis with a snarl.

  “I want all of ye great beasts outside,” ordered Fiona, showing her face.

  “My Lady Isabel would never speak to me that way,” said Darach, lifting an eyebrow at her fury.

  “I was ne’er raised to be a lady, so I stand up for meself!”

  She spoke aggressively, but Gillis heard her sad acceptance at being unwanted. He would change that belief, first thing. He wanted her, and so did Angus, and not just for what their bodies could share.

  “‘Twas an observation, not an insult,” said Darach, adding a short bow of respect. “The Lady Isobel’s father is fond of her and has treated her well all her life. I’ve met Laird Menzies. Father keeps Mother, and other women, far from him and his men. Mother once said she has the castle scrubbed, as well as Father’s ears, every time Menzies visits as he spreads such filth. I’ll await ye outside.”

  Darach left, closely followed by Angus. Fiona glared at Gillis, raising her eyebrows and looking toward the door in an obvious, though silent, order. He shook his head slowly, lips twitching at the effort to hold back a smile. She was like a kitten, all furious with wee claws. Her scratches would tantalize more than hurt.

  He wanted to feel her nails clawing his back, her sweet voice begging for more as he thrust deep into her.

  “I’m your husband. I stay,” he informed her.

  “Nay, ye’re not.”

  “I said ye were my wife in front of a witness. Angus said ye were Fiona MacDougal. Ye said nothing to deny it.” He tapped her on her nose. “Wife.”

  “Find me a broom,” she ordered.

  His heart skipped a beat. “Are ye well enough to jump o’er it to handfast with me?”

  “Nay, I wish to clobber ye over the head with it!”

  His cock leaped at her fire. Her eyes dropped. She swallowed hard, then licked her lips. Slowly. The tempting witch! He held back a groan. He’d heard of women putting their mouths there, but had never seen, or felt it. Surely she would not know about that?

  “Ye are still weak from yer fever,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll help ye dress.”

  “Cover that beast first,” she ordered, pointing at his erect cock.

  “If ye say so.”

  Grinning, he grasped his plaid and swirled it off her. She shrieked, covering herself with her hands. It was a futile gesture as her breasts were larger than her palms.

  “Nay lass,” he scolded quietly. “Never hide from yer husband. What ye have, is mine. As I, and mine, are yers.”

  Muttering under her breath, she got to her feet, unsteady. He stayed back, sensing she needed to do this herself. She held onto the wall as she walked toward her dry clothes. He kept near in case she toppled but made no move to touch her. It didn’t stop him looking. Her buttocks wobbled most enticingly when she stomped. She could do to have more flesh, something he would be encouraging. She had
no reason to keep her boyish shape now and every reason to show she was a woman worth cherishing.

  He’d hidden her binding cloth. She cursed him but put on her shirt without it. Her breasts were so large she could barely do up the laces. By the time she finished dressing she was wobbling. He held her elbow, guiding her outside. She leaned on him, trying to hide it.

  “Ye are a wee thing,” said Darach, checking her over. His eyes rested on her chest. “Mostly.” She scowled and crossed her arms, making him laugh. “You may not have the dowry, lass, but ye are well endowed.” He laughed at his joke.

  “Make sure the dress will fit,” said Gillis.

  “I canna believe this woman hid herself as a lad,” said Darach, staring at what her crossed arms supported.

  “She bound herself tight with a length of silk,” said Angus. “Gillis used it to climb out of Campbell’s pit.”

  Gillis hadn’t wanted it known that he’d been stupid enough to be caught. Unfortunately it would be impossible to explain Fiona otherwise. Darach gave him a look that said he wanted the whole story later. Then he narrowed his eyes.

  “Campbell tossed a lass into his pit?”

  “Nay,” she replied. “His men boasted at catching Patrick, the Menzies heir. They didna look farther than my hair color, size, and clothing. We got out afore the laird returned.”

  She wavered. Gillis stood behind her, keeping her steady.

  “If the men are lucky the laird willna ken ye were there,” said Darach. “Campbell would have demanded a fair bit of gold, and would not be happy to lose it.”

  “That’s why Fiona made them chase her, saving the heir from capture.” Gillis squeezed her arms encouragingly. “My wife may be wee but she has courage, and wit.”

  “But no dowry,” said Fiona baldly.

  “Ah,” said Darach. He gave Gillis a shrewd look. “I thought ye wanted a wealthy wife to give ye a home of yer own.”

  “Aye,” answered Angus before Gillis could speak. “Yet a cold shrew with a tower is nay as good as a smiling woman who’ll give ye fat babies. Fiona will be welcomed by our clan.”