Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
More Stormy Night Books by Sassa Daniels
Sassa Daniels Links
His Conquered Bride
By
Sassa Daniels
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Daniels, Sassa
His Conquered Bride
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Period Images and iStock/Gontzal Garate Arrieta
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Prologue
Dunstaffnage Castle, Argyll, West Coast of Scotland, August 1308
A mood of celebration hung in the air. For now, the battle was over, and Robert the Bruce’s most loyal men were making the most of the chance to let their guard down. Sitting back in his chair on the dais where the vanquished Chieftain of Clan MacDougall had held court only days before, Alexander de Moray surveyed the scene before him. It was a veritable orgy of lewd behavior. A rare smile crossed his cold, cynical lips. Everywhere he looked, there was naked flesh. Bodies writhed against one another and moans of pleasure filled the air, a welcome change from the agonized groans of men dying on the battlefield.
Drinking deep from his mug of ale, Alexander tried to put images of death out of his mind. He’d killed more than his fair share of the enemy, striking down those who would question their anointed king’s right to rule. For years, he’d stood side by side with Robert the Bruce in battle, earning himself a fearsome reputation for his unflinching brutality. Now, he was beginning to grow weary of the slaughter.
Setting down his ale, he ran a keen eye over the array of willing young women who followed the army around the country, providing much-needed sexual relief to soldiers who hadn’t seen their own wives for many years. Alexander wasn’t yet married, but recently his thoughts had turned to taking a wife. He needed to sire an heir. Given his exploits on the battlefield, it could only be a matter of time before he met with a bloody end and he knew a man should have a son to carry on his name.
His older brother had been married for ten years now without fathering a child. Unwilling to give up his wife to find another who would bear him a son, Adam was urging Alexander to find himself a bride to provide an heir for the family instead. Reluctant as he was, Alexander knew he should marry and do his bit to secure the de Moray’s future. At twenty-seven, he was already past the age where most men took a wife. Even his younger brother, Iain, had gained a bride and fathered two beautiful daughters before his wife was tragically slain. Yes, it was time he thought about finding himself a suitable woman but, for tonight, Alexander was going to put thoughts of matrimony to the back of his mind. He had more pressing needs and the lovely Edith would serve those well enough.
Beckoning the buxom young blonde, he leaned back in his seat and studied her carefully as she approached him like a cat on the prowl. This was a woman accomplished in the art of seduction. The way she tossed her long, loosely braided hair over her shoulder and swayed those ample hips was enough to make his cock strain against the confining leather of his breeches.
“How may I serve you tonight, my lord?” The smoldering gaze she gave him made his pulse race.
“On your knees, lass,” he commanded. “You know what I like.”
Smiling with a coyness that was the result of years of practice, the young woman sank to her knees before him. She lifted his tunic and unlaced his breeches to free his swollen, erect cock. Eyeing him as though he was her last meal, she edged closer and took his impressive shaft into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around its purple head before pulling him in deeper. As Edith suckled on his flesh, he closed his eyes, so nothing would distract him from the delicious lapping of her wickedly skillful tongue.
Alexander let out a groan as she bobbed her head up and down in his lap. As she took his long, thick rod right to the back of her throat, Alexander sat forward and wrapped his fist in her hair. He anchored her firmly in place as he took control and began to pump his hips. The mewling sounds she made as he thrust into her mouth made his cock swell. As his movements became rougher, he looked down and watched as his shaft slid in and out between her welcoming lips. She swallowed enthusiastically as he jerked violently and spilled his seed down her throat.
As he pulled her up onto his lap, he saw his younger brother, Iain, striding toward them. His face was set into an even more grim scowl than usual and Alexander felt his heart sink. Still wearing his chainmail tunic, Iain had at least acknowledged the celebratory mood by removing his helm and sheathing his sword. Alexander knew he’d just returned from chasing down a band of rebel MacDonnells. They’d come from Lochaber to aid the former inhabitants of Dunstaffnage.
“Put the whore away,” Iain said, ignoring the shrieks of protest from Edith as he lifted her, none too gently, from his brother’s lap and dumped her in a heap on the floor. “You’ve business to attend to.”
“What business might that be?” Alexander got to his feet and started to lace up his breeches. He didn’t spare a glance for poor Edith who sat on the floor like discarded rubbish, cursing his brother’s ill treatment of her.
“The king wants to see you.” Iain gave an ominous laugh. “In the laird’s private chambers.”
“Aye, alright,” Alexander replied. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“No, you need to come now.”
Alexander frowned, puzzled by the urgency in his tone.
“What about me?” Edith pouted.
“Oh, he’ll not be needing you anymore.” Iain’s lips curled into a wicked smile that put Alexander on alert. “The king’s found him a bride.”
Not waiting to see if his words had hit home, Iain strode off again, leaving Edith wailing on the floor and Alexander staring helplessly after him. For once in his life, he was too stunned to even move.
Chapter One
Castle Donnell, Lochaber, West Coast of Scotland, September 1308
She’d heard it said that curiosity killed the cat but, if that was truly the case, then Ailis MacDonnell would surely have departed this life years ago. Ever since she was a child, she had prowled the secret corridors of her father’s castle and used its hidden spyholes to learn about things the men would never dream of discussing with a mere female. Ailis hated to be left out. After all, at the age of eighteen and with an enquiring mind, she was every bit as capable as her older brother of understanding the ways of the world. It was just a pity that, as a woman, she could not put her knowledge to practical use.
She carefully lifted the loose stone slab from the floor by the bed in the laird’s chamber and pressed her ear to the grate. Ailis would be able to hear every word that was sai
d in the room below. She knew, however, that whatever information she gleaned, it would give her no comfort. Even though nobody ever spoke to her about it, she was aware that the country had been gripped by war for many years. Every laird in the land had been drawn into the terrible bloodshed at one time or another.
It was now more than three weeks since her own father had stepped into the midst of the conflict by marching south with a small but formidable group of the clan’s best fighting men. He’d gone to stand with his cousin, John MacDougall, in defiance of the king and nothing had been heard of him since. The sudden flurry of activity in the Great Hall told her that something had happened. Although her brother had ordered her to go to the women’s solar with the other ladies of the household, Ailis had not been able to resist slipping into her father’s private rooms in the central building of the castle. She was desperate to discover what news there was.
Shifting her position so she could see into the room below, Ailis recognized the imposing figure of Niall MacDonnell, one of the clan’s fiercest warriors and a man she much admired. His return with only a handful of men from the dozens who’d set out together, and without her father, did not bode well. Like so many of the men, Niall seemed to carry his worries on his shoulders. Even from this distance and with the limited view the spyhole afforded her, she could tell that he was tense.
Standing next to him was her father’s closest adviser, Angus Munro, whose stooped posture might be owed as much to his advancing years as to a sense of defeat. Somehow Ailis doubted that old age was the cause. Given the agitated way her brother, Gregor, paced before the other men, she knew that something evil had befallen their clan.
“The weather delayed us too long,” Niall said. “Dunstaffnage was lost before we reached Ardchattan. Your father ordered us to turn for home, but the king’s troops caught up with us. Many fine men were lost, your father among them.”
Ailis raised a fist to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. It wasn’t that she and her father were close, far from it. She’d always suspected that her physical likeness to her late mother had upset him. At times, her father had barely seemed able to look at her. She wondered if there was truth to the rumor that he’d hated her mother, that he’d thrown her to her death from the battlements. Whether that was the case or not, for as long as Ailis could remember, the great Lachlan MacDonnell had always had more important matters than his motherless daughter to concern himself with. Most of his attention had been given to his sons. It was only right, Ailis supposed. He needed to prepare them for the responsibilities they would one day assume.
No, it was not the loss of her father that shocked Ailis, but the realization of what that meant for the future of Castle Donnell and its people under her vicious brother’s rule. She feared what would happen to them and to her younger brother, Ruaridh, as well. Gregor had never had much time for the boy and, even though he was just a child, he might see him as a threat.
“So, I am laird now?”
Although she couldn’t see it, Ailis could imagine the avaricious gleam in her brother’s eyes at the thought of taking control of their rich and powerful clan. It made her shudder.
“Aye, you are,” Niall replied. “If you can hold the castle.”
From her concealed position, Ailis saw her brother’s hand shoot out to grab the collar of Niall’s tunic and haul him close. She knew that it was only respect for the title he now held that prevented the proud warrior from striking back against Gregor. Her brother was a cruel man, but ultimately a weak one and few of their people would revere him as they had her father. Despite his shortcomings when it came to her upbringing, Lachlan had been a decisive and just leader of Clan MacDonnell.
“What do you mean by that?” Gregor demanded.
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” Niall said, his voice steady despite Gregor’s provocation. “King Robert has branded your father a traitor and so his lands and castle are forfeit. He sent me back to tell you that he’s given them to Alexander de Moray.”
Ailis felt as though her heart had stopped beating as she heard a name almost as famous as the king’s, one that struck down even the bravest of warriors in fear.
“He hands my birthright to the devil himself?” Gregor released his hold on Niall and began to pace once more. He reminded Ailis of a cornered beast and she knew that when he felt threatened, he was at his most dangerous.
“Aye, and there’s more. He has also decreed that de Moray should wed…”
“My sister.” Gregor quickly reached the most obvious conclusion as Ailis stifled a gasp of horror. “Well, he is welcome to her at least.”
“You cannot mean that,” Niall protested.
“But I do. In fact, I cannot think of a more fitting punishment for her willful disobedience these past few years,” Gregor sneered. “Perhaps the brute will finally teach her a woman’s place.”
All her life, Ailis had known that her brother despised her, but hearing his callous remarks still cut her to the bone. The bonds of blood they shared should be enough to compel him to wish to protect her against such a fate. Ailis knew, however, that he would willingly sacrifice her if he could see any benefit in it for himself.
“But marrying her will cement de Moray’s claims upon these lands.” Angus spoke up for the first time. “If he takes her as his wife, the people will accept his right to rule over them more readily. They have a great affection for wee Ailis.”
As Angus himself did, Ailis knew. The kind-hearted old soul had always looked out for her welfare when her father’s neglect would have allowed her to wander into harm.
“Affection—hah!” Gregor scoffed. “They have a greater respect for custom and our tradition dictates that I take my father’s place.”
“So, you intend to fight Alexander de Moray?” Niall’s tone held more than a hint of derision.
“Aye, if I must.”
“It would be folly, Gregor,” Angus interjected.
“Laird MacDonnell to you, old man.”
Ailis was shocked but not surprised by the way her brother spoke to their father’s most trusted friend.
“Laird MacDonnell.” The older man bowed his head deferentially and Ailis wondered how much of a toll that gesture had taken on his pride. Few would be able to stomach having to grovel to Gregor. “I believe that it would be foolish to stand against de Moray. He has a great army at his disposal and the backing of the king. With the men we have left, we might be able to hold the castle for a day or two, but no more.”
“I know, I know,” Gregor said impatiently, although Ailis doubted that he’d been aware of the futility of trying to hold off an attack. Her brother wasn’t much of a strategist. “So, what would you have me do?”
Considering the contempt he’d just displayed toward the old man, Ailis seemed surprised that Gregor would seek his counsel. It was a sign, perhaps, that beneath his bluster, he was terrified of what might happen if he had to face de Moray’s army.
“You must leave here and seek the protection of our allies,” Angus said. “When you have amassed a stronger force, you can return and reclaim what is yours by right.”
“At last you speak some sense, old man.” Gregor paused as though weighing his next words carefully. “But I cannot go alone. Niall, ready what fighting men we still have. We leave at daybreak.”
Ailis saw Niall’s posture stiffen.
“Only the men who can fight, my laird?”
“Aye.” Gregor’s tone was one of impatience. “What use are the old and weak to my cause? What do I need with women and children who will do naught but slow us down?”
Ailis bit her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. So, the coward was going to seek his own way out and leave those less able behind to fend for themselves? If he had even an ounce of honor in those selfish bones of his, he would consider the safety of his people first. She could almost feel Niall’s anger at her brother, a sense of outrage she shared, vibrating on the air around him.
“And w
hat of wee Ailis?” Angus asked.
“What about her?” Gregor sneered. “With any luck, de Moray will be so distracted by his virgin bride, he’ll not see us coming when we attack.”
“You cannot mean to let him have her.” Ailis could hear the disgust in Niall’s voice. “You’d not sacrifice your own sister?”
“Half-sister,” Gregor corrected coldly. “And I hardly consider it a sacrifice. Still, if you’re hell bent on it, you can stay behind and try to protect her virtue.”
“Aye,” Niall spat out. “That I will, and a dozen of my men as well.”
“Four men,” Gregor said, a hard edge to his tone. “You may keep four of my men.”
Ailis felt her heart sinking. A dozen men would have had little enough chance of holding the castle against an invading army but four had no hope at all. She expected Niall to argue, but instead, he nodded curtly and turned to march out of the room. Down below her, Angus held out his hands to her brother in some sort of entreaty. Then, seeming to decide that it was futile to try to reason with Gregor, he shook his head and walked away without uttering a word.
Suddenly alone in the Great Hall, her brother looked toward the ceiling and Ailis fell back into the shadows. Although she knew it was impossible, given the ingenious way the spyhole was disguised by the decorated ceiling below, she felt as though he was staring straight at her. Had he known that she was there the entire time? It made the things he’d said seem even more callous.
“Did you hear that, girl?” Gregor roared. “The devil himself is coming for you. Do you know what a man like Alexander de Moray does to sniveling little virgins? He’s going to split your worthless cunt in two!”
Her heart pounding in terror at the brutality in her brother’s words, Ailis scrambled to her feet and fled from her father’s chambers. She didn’t stop running until she’d climbed the stairs to the wall walk that joined the four towers of the castle enclosure together. Looking out through the crenellated battlements, her eyes were wild as they scanned the countryside. She imagined she might, at any moment, catch a glimpse of this formidable man striding out of the misty night to claim her. But, of course, there was nothing but an eerie calm.
His Conquered Bride Page 1
