Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires)

by Suz deMello

  Alice had washed the night before, but the lady of the castle ordered another hot bath, a luxury Alice hoped would be oft emulated at Kilburn. Dugald’s bedtime attentions were welcome, but wearing to her muscles and…well, sticky. When she emerged from the bath, which had been strewn with flower petals and infused with calming herbs, a maid wrapped her in a linen towel and braided her hair in a coronet atop her head. After helping Alice to don her chemise and her stays, a garment Alice knew Dugald despised and would remove at the earliest opportunity, the maid helped Alice into petticoats, stockings gartered at the thigh and her new blue gown, which consisted of a skirt topped by a matching, long-sleeved bodice.

  She regarded herself in her room’s mirror. The dress fitted her slender body perfectly while the crown of braids gave her the look of a highborn lady. Don’t get accustomed to this, she told herself. You’re the governess, nothing more.

  But was that the case? She was handfasting with Dugald Kilburn, and from the way he was treated by all, she would be linked with a man of some consequence.

  Who would have thought it?

  * * * * *

  That eve, as the last lingering rays of light shafted through the arrow slits in the great hall of Kilbirnie Castle, a crowd gathered to celebrate the handfasting. The laird wrapped a length of the now-familiar Kilbirnie tartan around Alice and Dugald’s clasped hands and said, “A handfasting, Mistress Alice, is an invention we practical Scots are verra proud of. May your union be blessed, but if it turns out to be not to your liking, ye can move on, no hard feelings and no dishonor. Do ye understand and accept?”

  She nodded but still felt the weight of doubt. Should matters not work out at Kilburn Castle, she might have to return to England as distinctly damaged goods. She was taking a greater risk than Dugald was, for she was now tied to a foreign land forever.

  Sassenach meant other, stranger. She was a stranger in a strange land, as lost as Moses in the desert.

  She sneaked a peek at Dugald to find him staring solemnly at her, and her heart melted yet again, for he seemed to feel the weight of the occasion.

  “And ye, Dugald Kilburn,” Laird Kilbirnie continued. “Ye have come out of darkness to find Mistress Alice. Do ye vow to protect her and her bairn, should she increase?”

  “I do,” Dugald answered promptly and with certainty.

  “Then I pronounce ye two handfasted together for a year and a day, and should ye continue beyond, ye’ll be married as husband and wife. And ye have my blessing always.”

  Whistles and shouts arose, and the feast that followed was accompanied by ribald suggestions from the Kilbirnies and the Kilburns. “’Doonae worry, pretty lassie,” one red-faced lad told her. “If the auld man cannae please ye…” He wiggled his hips suggestively.

  Alice buried her flushed cheeks in her cup while Dugald gave the fellow a friendly cuff on the shoulder. “Get along with ye, Keith. Save your boastin’ for a blind besom without any sense. Mistress Alice is a clever woman, much too guid for the likes of ye. And she’s mine.” He turned his possessive gaze on her.

  And you’re mine—but she feared to voice the thought. For what was a handfasting, really? Merely a way for the immoral to cloak their acts temporarily. Not a marriage.

  Not what she wanted. But she took a deep breath and resolved to make the best of the situation. ‘Twas better than nothing at all. She could not keep Dugald out of her bed, nor did she wish to. With the handfasting, their…activities would not incur censure at her new position.

  Later, when they were alone and getting ready for bed in the same room in which she’d slept the night before, she asked Dugald, “What did the laird mean?”

  “Hmm?” Shirt off, he turned to her.

  She could not keep her stare from his naked chest, but persisted. “He said that you’d come out of darkness.”

  Draping his shirt over a chair, he heaved a sigh. “Need we speak of sorrow on our wedding night, wife?”

  She paused. “No, but I wish to know everything about you. Is this important?”

  “Aye, it is.” He sat on the bed, and the ropes creaked under his weight. He breathed deeply, and said, “Ye have already noticed, I ken, that we Kilburns are a mite …different from others.”

  She sat beside him and eased off her shoes. “Of course. You are all tall, dark of hair and eye but pale of skin.”

  “Our differences are far greater than what you see.”

  “Well, your flesh feels cooler than that of others. You are bigger and stronger than most men. And the way you defeated the Beans… There were far more of them and they were armed, were they not?”

  “I did catch them unawares, which helped the odds.”

  “But still… You seemed so certain, which leads me to believe—”

  “Aye. We are stronger than most. But along with the strength come weaknesses.” He turned to face her squarely. “We breed seldom and I take certain precautions, which was why I didnae… Doonae worry about ye increasing. And our births…they are dangerous for the mother.”

  She drew a quivering breath. “Dangerous… How?”

  He pressed his lips together. “Milaird’s mother died in childbed. As did my wife, Elsbeth.”

  “Your wife?” She was shocked.

  “Me first wife, lassie. I’m no bigamist. One woman at a time is enough for any sane man.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been married?” She was shocked and angry.

  He sighed. “’Tis a matter of some sorrow. I doonae like to think about what I did to Elsbeth.”

  “What did you do to her?” She was shocked, angry and bewildered.

  “Made her increase, knowing the risks.”

  “Did she know?”

  “Och, aye, I believe so, but we never had the conversation we’re having now.” He took her hands. “Mo dòchas, I would never do anything to hurt ye.”

  She pulled her hands away. “You already have. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “When?” He flung his arms wide. “When would I have told ye? We havenae been, um, intimate for longer than two days. Ought I have told ye in the Beans’ cave? ‘Have a care, mistress, for the bairn I may give ye could kill ye’?”

  She shook her head, struck dumb by his vehemence before she managed to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “Lass, it isnae your fault.” His voice softened. “I cannae blame ye for your curiosity. And aye, I was quite a somber fellow for many months, and Kilbirnie doubtless learned from milaird Kieran. They send messages to and fro.”

  “So that was what he meant.”

  “Aye. I doonae think I laughed for a year…’til I met ye. That is why I call ye mo dòchas, my hope.” He touched the side of her face with gentle fingertips.

  She was this man’s hope. She smiled, though tears prickled in her eyes. She thought of the odd circumstances of her birth, her mother’s death and their ensuing poverty, her father’s ignominious retreat from Oxford. None of that mattered anymore. “I don’t deserve everything you and the Kilbirnies have done for me.”

  “Ye do, but if ye’re in a grateful mood—well, that shouldnae be wasted. Stand up and take off your clothes.” His voice had taken on a shard of steel running through it.

  “What?”

  “Ye heard me. Take off your clothes, every stitch.”

  She stared at him open-mouthed, for his words belied his expression, which remained mild-mannered and calm.

  “Now,” he said. He leaned back, bent elbows supporting his weight on the bed, his broad, muscular chest glowing in the candlelight…completely distracting.

  She stood and faced him, unsure of herself, and fumbled with the ties at her waist. Her skirt dropped, followed by her petticoats, and she was left in the odd position of being fully clothed above her waist but nearly naked below it. Her chemise but lightly covered her privates and her loosening garters had started to allow her stockings to slip.

  Dugald reached for the lacing on her bodice and pulled. The bow loosened and the ties
eased. She tugged the halves of the confining garment apart.

  “Stays.” His voice rumbled with disapproval. “Mistress, ye ken I dislike those.”

  “Ye-es.”

  “So why did ye wear them? That’s nae good, me wife. Ye must obey me in all ways.”

  She gave a slight, surprised gasp.

  “Come here.”

  She hesitated.

  “Now.”

  She obeyed, her muscles tensing in the presence of this new, intimidating Dugald. Grabbing the front of her stays, he tugged her forward, the laces popping. He tore off her bodice and the offending stays, and she stood before him clad in a flimsy silk chemise and little else. The cool air in the room whispered across her breasts, sharpening the tips. They poked at the silk.

  She reached up to shield herself from his intent gaze, but his big, broad palms were faster.

  “Doonae cover yerself when ye’re private with me, ye hear?” He squeezed her breasts, then pinched the tips. Hard.

  She gasped at the unexpected sting. Her knees weakened and suddenly, improbably, her cunny began to twitch like a live thing with a mind of its own. She swayed.

  Dugald smiled and reached under the chemise. “Open your legs.” When she complied, he cupped all of her womanhood in one hand. A long finger settled into the furrow between her bottom-cheeks. It wiggled, the tip rubbing her sensitive back opening.

  She gasped again, certain that her face was as bright as the sun. Her hands fluttered in the air, for she did not know quite what to do with them. He didn’t want her to cover herself, and she wanted to obey him, but her deepest instincts screamed that she was treading on mysterious, possibly dangerous ground.

  Another finger slipped into her slit and his palm pushed at the spot beneath her mound that brought her the greatest pleasure. Closing her eyes, she flung her head back, panting as her hands continued to wave. One whacked Dugald on the head.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  He pulled his hand away. “Well, we cannae have this, can we?” Standing, he drew his belt out of his trews with a snap of the leather.

  Alice watched, nervous. He’d implied that he was planning to punish her and now that she’d slapped him on the head—unintentionally, but did that matter to the person getting hit?—what would he do with that belt?

  “Turn around.”

  When she did, he used the belt to tie her wrists together at the small of her back. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, taking great, panting breaths.

  He lifted the soft, thin silk of her chemise and it whispered up her legs while tantalizing fingertips trailed along her thighs. He tucked the fabric into the twisted belt.

  He caressed her bottom-cheeks. “Ye have a lovely arse, wife. With you so slender, I hadnae thought you’d have much of a bum. But here ye are, with these round, bonny globes.” He squeezed, then parted the halves.

  She gasped. Though he’d already played with and tickled that private place, she hadn’t expected that he’d want to examine her so closely. He yanked her toward him.

  She tumbled over his lap, her bum high in the air, and he kept her where he wanted her with one brawny arm laid across her back. She turned her head to see his other hand raise high, then come down to smack her on the rump.

  She emitted a startled shriek, then a fuller-bodied one when he spanked her again. Then four, five, six more slaps, with each bottom-cheek and her thighs getting the same severe treatment.

  She was panting and gasping and starting to tear up and snivel when he slid his hand through the moisture gathering in her cunny to find her slit. He drove his finger in and out of her channel, and the stinging red pain from the spanking turned to the lights and rainbows of pleasure. He stopped and rubbed his slippery finger over her bump.

  The world exploded. She writhed on his lap, eyes squeezed shut, helpless in her rapture yet completely confused. How could she be aroused by her punishment?

  But she was, and while she lay gasping and overwhelmed, he ran his finger back over her pulsating slit to the crevice that hid her darkest secrets. When he came to the little depression, he stopped and pushed.

  Her hips jerked involuntarily, taking the probing finger deeper. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “How does that feel?”

  “Um, strange.”

  “Good strange or bad?”

  She wiggled and the finger went deeper still, stinging her tender opening. “I’m not sure.”

  He pumped in and out. She groaned, finding any part of him inside any part of her exciting, but this new experience was also fraught with pain. Pain from her well-spanked rump and a sizzle inside her arse from his torturing, caressing finger that now withdrew and traced a tiny circle around the tight little hole, which she imagined had now been opened a little wider.

  “I’ll not take ye here tonight, wife. You’re not ready.”

  The thought of his big cock inside such a small space frightened and intrigued her. She moaned, rubbing her mound against his rock-hard thighs. He squeezed the halves of her arse and she cried out, the squeeze amplifying the sting left by the spanking.

  “But you do have another virginity to give.” He stood, lifting her as though she were made of feathers, and sat her upright on the side of the bed.

  Her bum was sore and her head was spinning. “What do you mean?”

  After checking on the belt securing her wrists with a hearty tug, he knelt before her and looked up into her face with his bright, dark, compelling eyes. “There are many ways to pleasure each other, ye ken? I can kiss ye here, on your mouth, and it’s good, is it no’?”

  “Yes, I love to kiss you.”

  He leaned forward and plunged his tongue into her mouth with a demanding thrust. “And I can kiss and fondle your bubbies.” He gripped her breasts and kneaded them through her chemise with insistent hands.

  “Yes, I like that,” she whispered.

  “And your sweet quim.” He slid his hands down and she parted her thighs to give him access. He played with her for a few seconds, then said, “And I can go into all these places with me cock.”

  Her mouth dropped open as she tried to envision Dugald’s cock between her breasts or her lips. She failed. How could that work?

  “Aye.” He stood and opened his trews, folding back the dark cloth to reveal his erect cock. Thick, round and red, it contrasted with the nest of black hair from which it sprung and the pale skin on his belly upon which it rested. “Will ye give it a try, lassie?”

  “I…suppose.”

  He leaned forward and the tip of his cock bobbed against her lips. He slid a hand around her head to guide her. “Open your mouth and kiss me. Please.”

  Even though her hands were tied, he’d asked so nicely… She breathed deeply and did as he wanted, allowing the round head entry, thinking about how she could kiss something that seemed so…unkissable, like kissing an iron bar.

  But it didn’t feel like an iron bar. In contrast to most of Dugald, whom she’d noticed was cool or even cold to the touch, his cock was hot, and covered with velvety-soft, satiny-smooth skin that seemed so different from the rest of his body.

  It filled her mouth to an almost uncomfortable degree and she pulled her head back so she was kissing only the tip. She feared that Dugald would be angry, but instead he groaned the same way he did when his cock was inside her quim.

  She kissed again, harder, sucking a little. The volume of his groan increased. Hmm. So she took in a little more, the entire cap of the thing, setting her lips around the ridge.

  “Oohhh…”

  That had worked well, so she tried it again, maybe sucking a little harder.

  Dugald became louder still.

  I wonder if I can… She opened her mouth as wide as she could and took in his entire cock as far as it would go. Her nose was in the wiry, curly dark hair at the base of his rod and she sniffed, breathed in deeply, learning his unique male aroma. His scent reminded her of the sharp but pleasant smell of pine sap, autumn wind and something
else. Just…Dugald. Her man.

  She closed her mouth, finding him in a bit too far for her taste, and rubbed her tongue against his length while pulling away.

  He emitted a strangled cry and seized her head in his big, broad, capable hands and guided her so that he was taking her with his cock as though her mouth was a quim. She lost count of the number of times he bucked in and out of her, but suddenly her mouth filled with a thick, hot, pungent liquid. His seed, she guessed, but what was she supposed to do with it? ‘Twould be insulting in some way to spit it out, she realized, and in any case she didn’t want it all over their bed.

  She swallowed hard and gave him one last suck. He dropped onto the bed like a great weight beside her and, with drowsy, half-lidded eyes, untied her hands. He flung the belt away before taking her into his arms.

  “Och, mo dòchas…thank ye.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  “Never better.”

  He raised a brow. “I doubt that.” He slid down the bed and parted her thighs.

  Guessing what was to come, she giggled and spread her legs wider. “I like this.”

  “I’m verra glad ye do.” He bent his dark head, the strands of his hair gleaming in the waning candlelight, and shoved his tongue into her slit.

  She wiggled, pushing her tingling bottom down into the bedclothes to urge his tongue onto her bump, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, and reached up to put his finger inside her while he kissed her, taking her higher and higher.

  The shimmering colors again flashed behind her closed lids as his finger sawed in and out and his tongue licked up and down, pushing her determinedly toward a climax. When it came, she gripped her breasts and pinched the tips the way Dugald had.

  Her body became a living flame, a creature made entirely of pleasure, and entirely his.

  Chapter Nine

  Smaller by one man and far more somber, their procession left Kilbirnie the next morning. Alice would have liked to tarry longer, but they’d lost a day to the Beans as well as a friend, and the brutal Highland winter would soon overtake them. The men seemed to feel the effects of the feast that had followed the handfasting. Apparently while she and Dugald had been abed, the rest of the Kilburns had been doing their utmost to empty the castle’s casks of whisky and ale.