by Suz deMello
“Yes, we have already discussed this.” Impatience sharpened her tone.
“I doonae ken why, but I believe that the differences stem from the blood. Our blood, which is thicker and darker than that of ordinary men and women.”
She frowned. “How can a normal heart beat such blood?”
“I believe our hearts are stronger than most.” His chest rose and fell with another sigh. “’Tis possible that the babes, when still in the womb, are too strong for most females to carry to completion. I fear for ye, mistress. Elsbeth was a strong, strapping woman, and ye are but a slender lass.”
“I’m strong,” Alice said, a trifle offended.
“Aye, I ken that. I’ve seen your strength. But your strength is not of the body but of the mind. The will, mayhap, or the soul.”
“That will have to do, for given our…activities…it is likely I will conceive soon.” She leaned over and kissed him.
Though his arms went around her immediately, he seemed to hold back.
“What?”
“Wife, I must be sure. Ye understand the risks?”
“’Tis a little late now.”
“Aye, I should have told ye before.” He turned his head away. “I was selfish.”
She turned his face toward her with a finger beneath his chin. “P’raps, but I do not regret anything we have done.”
His hands wandered down to her hips and he moved her forward and back on his hardening cock. “That be a change in yer tune from our wedding night.”
“Yes, er…” She was sure her face had started to glow.
“We had fun, did we not?” He squeezed her hip then slapped it.
The spank didn’t sting through her riding skirt, petticoats and long chemise, but nevertheless her cunny began a gentle throb. Tightening her thighs around him, she threw her head back and panted.
He unbuttoned her jacket and the lace-trimmed blouse beneath, exposing her stays, then traced her curves above the chemise.
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands into his shoulders for stability. Her stays loosened and cool air washed over her breasts. He’d evidently untied her stays and tugged down her chemise. Tightening, her nipples tingled. Warmth and wetness surrounded one—Dugald’s mouth? A suckling sensation said she’d guessed aright.
Disliking confinement, she flung away the clothes he’d loosened and tugged her chemise down. She sat atop him naked from the waist up.
“Methinks, my strong and passionate wife, ye’re in severe need of chastisement.”
“Chastisement?” Though she aped the gentle teasing in his voice, excitement unfurled in her belly.
“Aye. Uh…ye were wearing stays. And yer questions are most impertinent,” he told her, eyes twinkling.
“Och. Are they noo?” She imitated his accent.
He gave a faux gasp. “And mocking yer husband. Aye, ye’ve earned a severe spanking. What ye’ve begun, finish. Stand and strip. Take it all off, every stitch.”
Her quim warmed, dampened. She slid off his body and off the bed, feeling her breasts sway. Eyeing Dugald, who was stretched on the bed with a broad smile, she decided to make him wait. Given what had happened that day, he was a deal too smug. A great deal.
She bent over and tugged at one boot without success. She turned her back on her husband and sat on the bed.
A finger tapped on the topmost bone in her neck. She leaned forward and the finger slid down, tracing each bump and dent but ending at her waistband. Dugald gave the cloth a tug. “Why is this still on?” His tone was casual. “Did I not ask you to take off your clothes?”
“Are we in a hurry?”
He slapped her bum. Hard, so she felt it through her clothes. She yelped.
“When your man tells ye to act, act.”
“Yes, sir.” She leaped to her feet to tear at the tapes securing her skirt and petticoats. When she was naked she stood, panting with exertion, for she had rushed.
He crooked a finger, and she came closer, so close that she could feel his breaths puff over her naked belly. “Verra nice.” He leaned forward and with the same crooked finger, felt her channel. The digit slipped in and out with ease, and she closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation.
“Open yer eyes. Look at me when I make love to ye.” That maddening finger continued its work.
She gasped slightly. “I thought I was to be punished. Sir.”
“Ye thought correctly, but when I choose, and not a moment before.” He withdrew his finger and, using both hands, gripped her hips. One finger entered the crevice between her bottom-cheeks. She squirmed.
He slapped her bum with the other hand. “Stay still.” The finger wiggled deeper until it found her back hole.
She closed her eyes.
“I said, open your eyes.”
“I…I can’t, I can’t, this is too…” She was sure her cheeks resembled the setting sun. They certainly felt as hot.
He slapped her again, and it hurt. “Too what?”
“Too…embarrassing.”
He laughed. “Mistress, the time for embarrassment between us has long passed. Turn around and bend over. And keep your eyes open, every second. I can see ye in the mirror and I’ll ken if ye disobey.”
She obeyed, limbs shaking, and set her palms on her thighs for support. She found herself staring at her reflection in a cheval mirror set opposite, with Dugald’s black-clad knees the only part of him visible. The situation was nerve-racking enough without having to watch herself, but she hadn’t a choice.
She did not know the woman reflected in the glass. The flushed face topped by disheveled hair. Her breasts hanging full, more prominent due to her bent-over position. Her nipples, hard and red from his repeated attentions.
“Open yer legs.”
She did what she was told, and Dugald shifted and drew her closer so that his thighs were between hers, parting hers when he spread his legs. She could feel his warm breaths puffing over her arse, was aware that her naked, wet cunny was in his face, her most private flesh visible to his ardent stare.
Dugald’s hand reached through her spread thighs. Long fingers caressed her mound.
She’d never imagined such a sight—not with her or any other woman—but ‘twas so shocking, so erotic, that she could barely stand.
His thumb slipped into her trembling, pulsating slit and pushed. She started to close her eyes then jerked the lids open.
He laughed. “Good lassie.”
She bristled. She wasn’t a dog or a horse, but he was addressing her as though she were an animal. She shot him a glare using the mirror.
He slapped her bottom with his free hand while his thumb worked inside her arse and his palm massaged her most sensitive spots. She shuddered, a dark desire overtaking her. Her bottom stung, her cunny wept for his cock and her bottom-hole… She didn’t know quite what she felt there. She couldn’t understand why such a maddening feeling should be so arousing, but it was, and she wanted it. She wanted him.
The thought that she wanted his cock up her back hole was shocking and she staggered. Her sway brought renewed sensations.
He abruptly stopped touching her and her back channel stung from the quick withdrawal of his thumb. She craned her neck to see what he was doing.
He was unlacing his trews. She had only a moment to prepare herself before he grabbed her hips and forced her cunny down onto his cock. The delightful feeling of fullness was combined with some shock, relief and even a little regret. She wanted him to take her arse, she realized to her shame, but was not sure she was ready for such a large object thrust into such a tight, tiny place.
She wiggled to accustom herself to this new position. He pushed her shoulders forward, which felt even better, then reached around to finger her folds, searching for the little nubbin of flesh hiding inside. Finding it, he rubbed, and sparkles of pleasure raced around her body. Holding his knees for stability, she dragged herself back and forth, his cock impossibly large and heavy inside her.
His
hand came off her shoulder and slid down to her breasts, pinching the nipples lightly then slapping the swinging orbs. He started with light caresses and taps before escalating to smacks and spanks that left her flesh hot and quivering and the rest of her body jerking spasmodically, desperate for release. She ground her cunny into him and pushed herself against his hand, moaning.
He stopped, then cupped her breasts and squeezed. Rapture overwhelmed her and her moans rose in pitch. She wanted to close her eyes to see the shimmering colors that always welcomed her climax, but didn’t dare.
He gripped her hips and stood, his rod surging deeper into her clenching, grasping channel. She rested her palms on the wood planking beneath her as he raised and lowered her. She could feel his fingers digging into her as he moved her this way and that for his pleasure, but didn’t mind.
Head drooped, she closed her eyes, sure he couldn’t see, what with her hair tumbling over and hiding her face. Focusing on the heat and tingling inside her cunny, she let herself float into oblivion.
“Ye closed your eyes, didn’t ye?”
Alice awakened to find herself face down, stretched out on the bed next to her husband, who was idly playing with strands of her hair. Occasionally he’d slide cool fingertips down her spine and burrow into the crevice between her bottom-cheeks, which felt damp and sticky. His seed?
She wasn’t going to answer that question. ‘Twould be foolish. Instead she said, “You seem quite interested in my bum, sir.”
“Answer me question.” He slapped her lightly, which didn’t sting.
“I, er, I…”
He spanked her harder, which did sting. “Answer. Now.”
“Um, yes.”
“Well, well, well.” Each word was punctuated by a slap. “Ye do ken that you must obey your husband, do ye not?”
She gasped. “Ye-es, I do.”
“And yet, ye closed your eyes when I specifically told you ‘no’.” Another six slaps, delivered briskly, three on each cheek.
“Ow!” The spanks stung and heat bloomed, sinking toward her quim.
He set both palms on her and squeezed. She moaned and wriggled. She shoved one hand beneath her, questing for her bump.
“That’s right, kylyrra. Play with yerself… This stirs ye, does it not?”
She nodded.
“Answer me.” He striped her thighs with a series of quick, harsh slaps.
“Yes! Yes!” She writhed beneath his hand, wishing he’d stop, wishing he’d play with her body forever.
“Good.” He stopped and rolled off the bed then went to the door.
“You’re going to leave me like this?” She was a ball of frustration. A stinging, sore ball of frustration.
He looked back at her and laughed. “It’s time to dress for dinner. I’m orderin’ us a bath.”
Alice scrambled to cover up.
The tub arrived first, a great, round thing like half of a giant barrel, lugged by a guardsman. Then several sturdy-looking maids hauled in steaming water, which they dumped into the tub. As they left, they cast longing glances at Dugald, giggling at him—and at her, Alice noted with some resentment.
After they’d left, Dugald secured the door, stripped and swung one brawny leg then the other into the bath. Then he beckoned her over. She lowered herself in with care, wincing as the hot water hit her sore haunches, and arranged herself in the meager space left. The water slopped up to her chest, but only Dugald’s lower half was covered.
“Why were they laughing at you?” she asked.
He shrugged, sending wavelets toward her. “Who?”
“Those maids. And I do not care for the way they were looking at you.”
“I doonae ken, but…um, everyone kens me around these parts.”
She eyed him. “Just how well do they know you?”
He grinned. “Some ken me better than others.”
She stiffened her back. “Is this going to present problems for me?”
“It shouldnae.”
Alice sighed.
“Doonae borrow trouble, lass. I’ll ensure that no one insults ye.”
And with that she had to be content.
* * * * *
“Dugald refers to you as his nephew, but I cannot say that the two of you look as though you share a single drop of blood,” she told the laird later at supper. They sat in the castle’s Great Hall, a modest room compared to Kilbirnie Castle, which had reminded Alice of paintings she’d seen of palaces. This cozy firelit room, in contrast, was smaller and more friendly, seating p’raps a score of men and women at round tables. Families with children sat at some, while others seemed to be packed with castle guards. Here and there someone stuck out as clearly Kilburn, with the height, pale skin and dark hair that seemed to characterize her husband’s clan. The MacReivers were a more varied lot.
Laird Edgar laughed. “’Tis true. My father was a redhead and my mother fair-haired like myself. Or so I’m told. She died bearing me.” He glanced at Dugald.
“That doesn’t seem to be uncommon.” Alice picked at her food, wondering about her future.
“That’s the way of it, alas.” Dugald stared at his plate.
Laird Edgar shrugged. “Matters have improved greatly in my lands since the Kilburns and the MacReivers…allied. We are a healthier clan. We eat better, and consequently there are more live births.”
“And so the clan increases.” Dugald sipped ale. “But doonae be surprised, wife, if you doonae increase. As I said, many Kilburns have but one or two bairns at the most.”
“I thought that milaird and milady had several,” she said. “Hence the need for a governess.”
“Aye, there are four of them. But milady is a Sassenach and milaird’s mam was a Cameron. They be prolific breeders. You and me…we may be different.”
She put down her fork and stared at him. “Or so you hope.”
He compressed his lips. “Aye, I do. I doonae want to lose ye, mo dòchas.”
“Like Elsbeth.”
“No one is going to lose anyone,” Laird Edgar said firmly. “Elsbeth was wonderful, a good friend to us all. And Mistress Alice is different, though equally charming.” He turned to her. “You seem hale and hearty enough.”
“I am,” she said cheerfully, banishing her fears. “And plenty of women have babies with no problems. Are there not enough Kilburns?”
Dugald leaned back in his chair. “Aye, we’re a strong clan.”
“I can second that,” Laird Edgar said, a wry note in his voice.
Alice glanced from one to the other. “I sense there’s a story behind this.”
“There is. Our clans had feuded for many years until one night, one of the more, er, less controllable Kilburns killed many of my men. I was but ten at the time,” Laird Edgar said, his voice perfectly even. “I was left with no option but to ally with Clan Kilburn.”
“Does that trouble you, milaird?” she asked.
“Not at all. But for the carnage, I believe that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And honestly, to my clan. I loved my father, but he had no notion of how to properly run…well, anything. I believe I‘m a good leader—”
“Here, here!” Dugald raised his tankard.
“And if I am, it is because of everything that milaird Kieran and this one have taught me.” Laird Edgar gave Dugald a playful punch on the shoulder.
“Och!” He pretended to fall off his chair to one side.
Alice laughed. “So, who are these less controllable Kilburns?” She remembered the Tupping Threesome with the whore in Glasgow and unconsciously raised her hand to her neck.
Edgar eyed her. “Methinks you are already well acquainted with at least one.” He raised his tankard at Dugald, who winked.
Hmm. So Laird Edgar was reluctant to reveal the truth. No doubt he felt that the information was too much for her tender female ears.
And no doubt she’d find out upon reaching Kilburn Castle.
Chapter Eleven
The day dawned
misty and cold, and Alice picked her warmest clothing for the ride to Clan Kilburn’s lands. Though she’d been told that the way was short—p’raps an hour or two—so many unexpected events had taken place during their journey that she wanted to be prepared for all possibilities, and dressed accordingly.
But her fears weren’t realized. Instead, after a hearty breakfast of porridge and sausages, they set out for Kilburn Castle in time to arrive before noon. However, she found her good spirits dampened by the increasing fog and Dugald’s mood. He’d grown quiet as the morning progressed.
She finally guided Mary abreast of his mount and said, “Talk.”
He turned to her with a lifted brow.
“You are troubled.”
He sighed and stared at a point in the air between his horse’s ears. “The time draws near when I must tell milaird about Malcolm. I also must speak with his mam.”
“Ohhh…I understand. If there’s anything I can do, maybe tell his mother that he died trying to protect me—”
“That would be a help, aye. Thank ye.”
As they neared Kilburn Castle, the trail they’d been following through the woods widened and the trees grew more sparse until they were riding across a meadow dotted with fluffy white sheep and occasional patches of snow. Both canine and human shepherds tended the flocks, which also included a cow or two.
The enormous, three-sided fortress was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Its huge gate was open and a drawbridge thrust forth like a giant tongue across a moat. In the distance, Alice could see folk hurrying in and out of the castle.
As they neared the crofters’ huts near the castle’s base, goats heralded their presence with their distinctive aroma. Closer still, chickens clucked and scratched for bugs. Puppies and kittens tussled with children in the byways while the adults worked. Alice could hear the clanging of a smithy, while the huts’ open doors revealed women spinning and weaving. Strings of dried herbs draped doorways, and garden plots were lined with tidy rows of late vegetables. They even passed fishponds.
They approached the ice-rimmed moat, on which seabirds and ducks swam and quarreled, then crossed it with Alice looking at everything all the while. She could see Clan Kilburn was prosperous. Everyone seemed clean, well-fed and happy.
