Desired By The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 2)

by Veronica Wilson

  “What does yours say?” Dagmar asked, pointing to her stack. Aila looked down at it and laughed.

  “Dagmar should marry Aila and they could both rule.” Dagmar laughed too, although Aila would have sworn his heart wasn’t in it.

  “That’s a very creative solution for sure and a viable one. Someone, however, is going to have to convince our potential queen that marrying me is in her best interest.”

  “Take her to your bed and prove it to her!” a man in the crowd shouted. “Rumor has it she could use a good lay.”

  Dagmar took one look at Aila and knew his best friend was pissed. Then he saw Dragna take a wooden spoon and hit the man over the head hard enough to have him cussing. “Thank you Dragna, for that and those incredible cookies. I’m sure you saved Dungar from becoming a braying ass, at least literally.”

  “You’re both very welcome,” the older woman smiled. “And may I say that there are worse fates than marriage. You must remember that some of us still remember how it was between you two, when neither of you cared nor worried about ruling Hail.”

  “Regardless,” Aila said, her voice ringing out into the night, “No solution will be reached tonight. Thank you all for your participation. Dagmar and I will look over these thoroughly and tomorrow we’ll be able to announce whether or not we’ve come up with something that suits everyone involved. “

  “It wasn’t a half-bad idea,” Dagmar said as he escorted Aila back to his tent.

  “What? Sleeping with me to win me over?”

  “No,” Dagmar chuckled. “Getting married and uniting our people through that.”

  “Oh, so I could always be second to you. Well that’d work out lovely for you wouldn’t it, Dagmar. What a nice little dowry I could hand you. Please, by all means go right ahead and try to drag me there.”

  “What happened to the shy Aila who shared my bed yesterday?”

  “I’m a leader, Dagmar. I always have been and I always will be.”

  “I’m not debating that. I’m just trying to find out why you can’t be happy ruling by my side.”

  The dream came back to her in flashes, vivid enough to touch if she would just reach out. Closing her fist into a tight ball of frustration, Aila replied, “Because you’d never concede and rule at my side, Dagmar. Why is it always the woman who has to bend? We bend ourselves when it comes to everything in life, it seems. Men want sex, we bend our bodies through the pain of that first time. Men want food, we cook it and serve them first. Men want to hunt, the wife stays home with the babies so he can.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t so much what the man wanted to do, but what he felt right in his heart to protect and provide for his family?”

  Irritation rippled through her skin as she sat silently fuming in Dagmar’s tent. She’d yet to best him in an argument and it galled her to be reminded of it. “But why is it always the woman who gives and sacrifices?”

  “You think that men don’t sacrifice? Did it ever occur to you that the men I take with me hunting might rather be home with their wives? What man wants to willingly walk away from the woman he loves, the home they’ve built together, the children they made together? No man, I’ll tell you that much. It’s true that we Picts love a good fight and a great hunt, but our hearts are here with our families, with our people.”

  She hated admitting that Dagmar had a good and valid point. But his sense seemed to cool her frustration. She didn’t often think of the sacrifices men made to feed their families. She’d been so consumed with convincing Dagmar to quit pursuing the right to rule that she hadn’t really seen all they’d accomplished. The year before her parents died, Aila had seen the walls erected. Huge tents had been constructed to house general meeting areas. Then, two months before her parents tragic death, Aila saw the first permanent quarters go up. They would house the official ruler of Hail, whoever it turned out to be.

  “Do you think our parents would be proud of us?”

  “I hope so,” Dagmar said, a grin splitting his lips. “I know my father would probably slap me on my back and tell me to put you in your place. Then my mother would punch him and tell him to hush.” The memories of their parents, sharing stories of them made both Aila and Dagmar better appreciate their friendship. “I’ve missed you, Aila.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. Feeling foolish, Aila inched closer to him, knowing full well those piercing blue eyes were watching her with that intensity that could easily melt her bones. With a half grin on her face she brought her lips to his and sank into him. They moved together easily, as if each of them already knew the other’s movements. She sank into the thick furs of Dagmar’s bed as he laid her back. This was a different Dagmar. The man he’d been yesterday had been patient, kind, achingly tender.

  Today he was hard, brilliant and so wonderfully hungry. “I don’t want to be so tender tonight, Aila,” Dagmar growled.

  “No one’s asking you to,” she exhaled, her breasts rising quickly with each breath she took. Arching, Aila pressed her hips against his, felt the readiness of his thick cock. Memories flashed in her mind of the first time he’d touched her and Aila felt herself grow wet in anticipation. “Will it hurt now?”

  Dagmar had always loved Aila’s blunt honesty. Whenever she spoke, you always knew you were going to get exactly what was on her mind. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t think so, although I’m no judge. I would think the worst of it is over now, but I’ll be gentle if that’s what you need, Aila.”

  “I’m just scared that… that it won’t feel good.”

  “Did it feel bad last time?” Dagmar asked, a scowl marring his chiseled face.

  “No, not bad. It was painful, but not excruciating. Just, noticeable.”

  “Oh,” Dagmar said, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry Dagmar,” Aila backtracked. “Forget I said anything.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?”

  Aila, who was always awkward when it came to talk of bedroom affairs, knew that, of all the men she’d known in her life, Dagmar was the only one she’d ever wanted to touch. Knowing that if she didn’t salvage this, she’d spend the night unfulfilled, she rose up on her knees and pulled her tunic over her head. “I don’t know about you, but when you kiss me, when you touch me, I can’t seem to think about anything except how amazing I feel.”

  “Oh, Aila,” Dagmar grinned. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are?”

  “Show me,” she begged, her body already starting to hum. The first kiss rocked her to her core as her body revved up. Dagmar answered her hunger with his own need, lying back and bringing her with him. She straddled him, surprised by the immense power it gave her. His hands were everywhere, stoking the desire that whipped through her. Garment after garment was stripped away until Aila felt her skin warm against Dagmar’s. She leaned down and kissed him fully, her warm tongue tangling with his as his large hands kneaded her breasts. Then those lovely, callous-roughened hands took hold of her hips and lifted, angling her warm pussy over him. Penetration came quickly this time and Aila winced in anticipation of pain that did not come.

  Dagmar was still a considerable man to deal with, but Aila gloried in the painless act of making love. Mesmerized by him, Aila gave herself up to the intense rhythm that fed her want even as it seemed to fulfill an even hotter need in Dagmar. He pumped into her, using her hips to lift her and using his hands to bring her down again. Each thrust spoke of a need she had to fill, within both of them. Strange that outside of ruling their people, Aila could picture no man who suited her quite the way Dagmar did. So why did she resist the idea of marriage so strongly?

  Feeling the incredible force of Dagmar’s thrusts, Aila closed her mind to everything except the way he made her feel. She moved in time with him, pushing them both to peak. On a cry of pure ecstasy, Aila came hard as Dagmar thrust deep into her wet pussy.

  That night neither of them spoke of the impending decisions that h
ung over their heads. They spoke of their early days and how their friendship had meant the world to them, for different reasons. Dagmar told Aila about the moment he learned his parents had died on the trip over.

  “I’ll never forget the gut-wrenching pain of it. They were here in my memories and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring them here. I couldn’t give them life through those memories.”

  “I remember feeling numb for the longest time. I ate and I dressed and I worked, but I wasn’t living. I just wasn’t dying, except on the inside. It was you who saved me.”

  “How?” Dagmar asked.

  “By being my friend. By never asking me to be okay or to get over it. You gave me unconditional love and space; two things I needed desperately. I remember that afternoon, after we learned your parents had died. I bawled and bawled. I cried until my whole body hurt. It wasn’t fair that we should both lose our parents in such senseless ways.”

  “I remember hearing about your parents. I was still reeling from losing mine, and I can’t tell you how hard it was not to go out and beat someone to death. I wanted someone to feel the emptiness I felt inside. I had no idea that it would be you.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Aila said, running her finger through the sparse red hair on Dagmar’s chest. “You saved me, and I think in a way we saved each other.”

  “I know we did,” Dagmar said, caressing her long, dark hair. “If I hadn’t had you I would have gone insane. I probably would have tried to kill myself. You were the one who showed me that we could still go on. We could still live despite the tremendous loss of our parents.”

  “You showed me that I was still needed,” Aila smiled, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “I like being needed by you.”

  “I do need you, Aila,” Dagmar smiled. “More than I would have admitted to, even six days ago. Whatever we decide, I’m always with you, okay? I’ll always support you.”

  “But not enough to step aside and let me lead?”

  “No,” Dagmar sighed. “How could I live with myself if someone or something hurt you? I wouldn’t survive losing you. You were there to help me with losing my parents. No one would be there to console me to the degree I’d need if you got hurt because you were leading our people.”

  “Oh, I get it. It’s okay for me to do anything else that puts my life in danger, like hunt or go to war. But leading, that sort of thing is for real men to do, right?”

  “Would you quit putting words in my mouth?” Dagmar said. “All I’m saying is that being the ruler of a people comes with a known danger that others might not like you. If they don’t like you and they see you as a threat, they would easily try to snuff you out. I couldn’t live with myself if you died because I gave in and let you become the official ruler of our people.”

  “Then I guess there’s nothing else for us to say to each other,” Aila said. She stood and dressed, all the while ignoring Dagmar’s pleas to stay inside where it was warm. When she was finally dressed, Aila opened his tent and walked over to her own. She looked up one last time, seeing Dagmar watching her, before she stepped into her own tent and closed the flap behind her.

  THE END

  Highlander's Desire

  Chapter One: Preparations

  Aila Forsberg stepped out of her tent and scowled. Two weeks before Solstice and her people were no closer to a ruler, no closer to celebrating their time-honored traditions. With so little time left, it was odd to see holly just being strung up around the food tent. Holly wreaths should be seen on every tent from here to the river, but nothing was the way it should be.

  Walking briskly to Dagmar Stalson’s tent, Aila pulled the flap back and stepped inside. “We need to put up a tree, Dagmar,” she said as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior. She recognized most of the furnishings and other accoutrements and to her humiliation, she also recognized Asgurda Dansberg. The blonde-haired beauty had a rack the size of Big Bertha, their people’s sole ship.

  “Aila,” Dagmar said. “So nice of you to drop in, again.”

  “I’ll apologize for interrupting you so early this morning, but we need to find a solution to this. Our people aren’t even holding to tradition.”

  “How can they, when they don’t have a ruler?” Dagmar asked, his look challenging her.

  “You know how I feel about it, Dagmar. I am the rightful ruler. I, alone, have the birth right.”

  “So I should throw away my right to rule, just to save face?”

  “You should throw it away because you know I’m the rightful ruler.”

  “Nice try,” Dagmar said. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll have a ruler soon enough. One way or another, we’ll settle this between us.”

  “In time for our people to celebrate our traditions?” Aila challenged.

  “In time.” Dagmar stepped toward her and grabbed hold of her arm, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have company.”

  “This isn’t over,” Aila seethed. She wouldn’t let it hurt that Dagmar had brought another woman to his bed scarcely three days after she’d left it. But had their time together, her first time, meant so little?

  Holding her fury close to her chest, Aila knew that if she didn’t start pulling her people together, Dagmar would simply let them fall apart. Searching out Svenbreck, Aila decided that starting her offense might just undo Dagmar’s defense. Even so, she knew she’d have to lay the framework early, before the whole village sided with him. If he wanted to fight and tear their people apart, she’d make sure she took as many with her as she could.

  ***

  Dagmar said farewell to his morning delight, promising to see her later at supper. Then he focused on meeting Aila’s challenge. He’d never expected the sorry state his love life would be in after the loss of Aila. Asgurda had been beyond willing, but he hadn’t been able to impress her, let alone satisfy her. His mind and, he feared, his heart as well were consumed by the dark-haired beauty who’d shared her innocence with him when he’d shared his bed. The little girl who’d crossed the North Sea with him had grown into a sensually beautiful woman, and she tempted him like no other.

  Cursing, Dagmar went in search of Dragna. If Aila wanted to split their camps up so they could both rule that was fine by him, but he’d have Dragna on his side. He feared that if he couldn’t win the old cook over he just might starve to death.

  “Dragna?”

  “In here, young Dagmar,” came the older woman’s voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have a hypothetical question for you.”

  “Alright,” she said, standing to her full height and still barely reaching Dagmar’s stomach.

  “Aila and I, as you well know, aren’t any closer to figuring out which one of us should rule. If we can’t decide it between us, we’ll have to split the camp into two; those who are supportive of her rule and those who wish that I would rule.”

  “Why don’t you just rule together?”

  “It’s an idea, for sure,” Dagmar agreed. “We just haven’t figured out how to do it so both of us feel satisfied with the outcome.”

  “Why not just marry Aila? You’d get to rule by her side, and you certainly can’t complain about her bedroom activities.”

  “Dragna!” Dagmar chuckled.

  “You don’t get to be as old as I am, sonny, without learning a thing or two about people.”

  “Just don’t say anything to her. I have a feeling she’d like to keep that private.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Dragna smiled. “Just so you know where I stand… I have a love for both of you, and would much rather see you rule together than tear our village apart. If that were to happen, however, you should know that I’d not follow either of you. My tent would stay right here, and any who wanted to eat my cooking would be welcome, no matter who they followed.”

  “Fair enough,” Dagmar agreed. “You should know that whether or not Aila and I agree to anything, I’ll still be eating here.”

  “Does my heart good to know it,” Dragn
a said.

  Dagmar figured with that over he’d start talking to their people. He needed to know what they really thought about him and Aila, whether they were more for splitting apart or working it out. Searching out Breslin and Bregnan, twins who were known as much for their merriment as their fist-in-the-face fighting style, he started his impromptu survey.

  “Well look what the mangy cat drug in,” Breslin said, a smile spreading easily across his features.

  “Well I'll be damned, I think I’m seeing things.” This came from Bregnan as he slapped his brother on the back.

  “Funny. You two should start a humorous duo,” Dagmar chuckled. Hugging them in the way men do, Dagmar continued, “I’ve missed you two brutes around here.”

  “Ah, don’t be starting no sentimental bullshit,” Bregnan said, slapping him hard enough to make him cough.

  “If you two have a minute I’d like to discuss something with you.”

  “Shoot,” Breslin said, pouring Dagmar a cup of wine.

  “As you and everyone in the village knows, Aila and I have been at odds for a while over who should rule Hail.”

  “You and Aila have been at odds as long as we can remember,” Breslin chuckled. “I figured when we all grew up maybe you’d shag her and you could both move on.”

  Dagmar couldn’t explain the urge that rose up in him to punch Breslin in the face. He wasn’t a careless lover, but neither was he overly protective. The fact that he wanted to protect Aila from sneering remarks worried him. Clamping down on his temper, Dagmar let his two friends jest about the rumors of his love life.

  “Rumor has it you’re apparently not as good between the skins as everyone assumes.”

  “Asgurda caught me on a rare, and unfortunately unexplainably bad, night.”

  “Is that it?” Bregnan said, prompting his brother to laugh. “Rumor also has it that Aila wasn’t too pleased to find another woman in your bed.”