Daughter of the king

by Ashley York

Duncan laughed. “I’ve checked the trail myself. We’ve seen to the worst ruts. Ye’ll be fine.” He moved in closer, glancing around to be sure he was not overheard. “One thing about that tea. It makes ’em very…needy, if ye know what I mean. Best to keep her with ye.”

  Darragh sent him a withering glance. “I would prefer not to have known that.”

  The older man nodded in understanding then shrugged. “A tea can only do so much, Darragh. If she didn’t desire ye at all, no herbs would make her direct her affection toward ye.”

  Darragh glanced toward the wooden conveyance, considering a stop along the way. Not the most comfortable spot for him to take her. The men circled around him with expectant expressions, and he knew his needs would have to wait.

  “Take yer time, lad.” Duncan moved in closer. “If ye handle this right, she’ll not know when the herbs wear off and when yer own prowess takes over.”

  Nodding his head, a smirk on his face, Darragh asked, “Did ye do this apurpose?”

  “The lass had a fever. I’d never put her in harm’s way.” Duncan crossed his arms about his chest and planted his legs into a warrior stance. “I help where I’m able. “

  Darragh hopped up onto the seat, quirking a brow at him. “Do not feel ye need to hurry.”

  Chapter 16

  The roundhouse had definitely seen better days. The walls had gaps where the weather had worn away at the structure, but it was clean and there was no sign of damage to the two small sleeping areas toward the back. Fitted with straw pallets and draped with material for privacy, the space looked much more inviting than the makeshift lean-to they had fashioned. The elderly couple that lived there seemed genuinely pleased to have guests, claiming they seldom had anyone pass by.

  “My wife is excited to be cooking for yer men as well.” The gray-haired man stood tall. Mayhap nearing sixty, but the years seemed to have been kind to him.

  “Ye’re far from anything here.”

  “We’ve been seeing to the sheep our whole lives,” he wrapped an arm around the woman who came to stand beside him. She was a small woman, with long gray hair and hazel eyes that twinkled with humor. “Gwen and I do fine.”

  “We appreciate yer welcoming us all in like this,” Brighit said, her eyes slightly glazed.

  “Ehh?” The man named William scrunched up his face.

  Gwen’s eyes widened, and a small smile touched her lips. “My husband is in good health except for his hearing.” She turned to him. “But he does well if he can see lips.”

  William nodded, tucking her closer to him.

  “Please, sit.” The small woman gestured with her hands then went about setting the table with a clay pitcher of ale and mugs.

  The three of them settled at the large trestle table, scarred with age—no doubt from playing host to many such meals over the year. Gwen turned from the fire, a heavy cloth wrapped round the handle of the battered iron pot. “Hope ye enjoy soup, ’tis hardy and filling.”

  Darragh nodded. “The others should be here anon.”

  “Ach, she’s made plenty. Had several nephews on both sides we helped to raise and she still cooks as if they’re with us.”

  “Where are they?” Brighit faced William when she asked the question, then reached over and broke off a piece of the hardy brown bread in the center of the table as she awaited his answer.

  “Not far but far enough.” William winked at her. “How about ye, too? Any bairns?”

  Darragh cleared his throat, trying to ignore the telling glance exchanged by the couple. “Not yet. We’ve only just wed.”

  Her sigh of relief was audible, at least to him, but Gwen was settling beside her husband. “Soon enough.”

  She stretched out the word ‘soon’ and Darragh kept the grin from his face. Was his need for his wife that obvious? He let the smile escape as he accepted the bread, which Brighit had slathered with thick cream.

  She prepared a slice for herself and closed her eyes in pleasure as soon as she bit into it. “This bread is wonderfully sweet.”

  “It has honey in it.” Gwen answered, pleased with the compliment.

  “What a wonderful idea.” Brighit’s eyes widened. “I have never heard of that before.”

  Gwen’s cheeks blushed in embarrassment. “I can show ye how I make it if ye like.”

  Darragh could only describe the expression on Brighit’s face when she turned to him as exhilarated. “Could I? May we stay long enough for her to teach me?”

  He couldn’t be certain it wasn’t the herbs from the tea causing this reaction, but her sheer pleasure at the idea of learning something to do with cooking was nothing short of a miracle. “If that would please ye.”

  “I would like that.” Her bashful smile of appreciation was accompanied by another small gesture—her hand finding his and then resting them together on her lap. “Thank ye.”

  “I have many hives that we keep. Helps make for a sweet life, eh, Gwen?”

  The older woman smiled but kept her attention on Brighit. “How are ye with oats? They’ve a fine taste with the honey as well.”

  Again Brighit responded enthusiastically. Darragh sipped at his ale, watching his wife have an animated conversation for the first time in days—and about cooking no less. He was totally perplexed. Were the copious amounts of ale, mixed with the strange herbal concoction, loosening her tongue? Her fever and any sickness from it were long gone.

  Duncan had assured him the herbs only heightened things she would already have a liking for and yet her repeated disdain for women’s work seemed to disavow that idea. Gwen’s ready smile and quick wit seemed to make Brighit at ease enough to ask many questions.

  “Ye are a great one with questions.” Gwen ladled out more hot soup for Darragh before he could stop her. “Are ye interested in learning more?”

  “Oh I am.” She nodded eagerly, turning to Darragh. “Gwen would be a wonderful teacher.”

  Gwen dropped her gaze, clearly embarrassed by the compliment. “I’d be happy to show ye the things I’ve learned over the years.”

  When Brighit covered the woman’s hand with her own, Darragh had the odd sensation he was witnessing a side of Brighit she preferred to keep hidden, though he didn’t understand why that would be.

  “I would be happy to learn from ye all ye can teach me,” Brighit said, her voice pitched low purposefully, so as to convey how genuine she was in her appreciation.

  Darragh squeezed her other hand that sat in her lap where their hands were still joined. “Then if ye’re willing to keep us for a few days, that’s what we shall do.”

  Brighit’s eyes sparkled when she glanced at all of them. He felt a strong sense of accomplishment that he was able to give her this simple pleasure. Terrence and the others arrived without incident, but it was Iain he told about the change in plans. He had no patience for Terrence’s evasions. Darragh and Brighit would meet up with them at week’s end at Terrence’s former clan. The men were settled in the empty stable for the night and would leave at daybreak to continue their mission.

  Brighit wrinkled her nose. “Are there leeks in this?”

  “Aye. Ye can put in soup anything ye have stored,” Gwen said.

  “They are difficult to clean.”

  “Ah, it does take patience.”

  Brighit nodded thoughtfully. “Soup does not seem difficult to make.”

  “Not at all. We can make more on the morrow.”

  Brighit caressed Darragh’s hand where it rested on her thigh while continuing to speak to Gwen. “This is very tasty and ye say there’s no meat in it?”

  Darragh grasped his wife’s leg, noticing she didn’t look at him and she didn’t miss a word. When he repeated the gesture, she again caressed his hand—but in encouragement or discouragement he couldn’t be certain.

  When he gripped her thigh more firmly, her eyes widened the slightest bit, but her words remained conversational. William coughed across the table from Darragh. When he looked toward him, the man’s at
tention was on his soup.

  Again, he gripped her leg and she shifted it slightly closer. Encouragement? He believed so, imagining the slight parting of her thighs beneath her lovely green gown.

  “We are not always able to get out and hunt. Isn’t that right, William?” Gwen spoke louder whenever she included her husband in the conversation. He nodded in agreement, his lips puckering as if the answers required deep thought.

  Working his fingers closer to the imagined cleft between Brighit’s legs, Darragh squeezed her thigh again. Her hip moved beside him and she sat up straighter.

  “And ye have no help here?” Brighit didn’t miss a word. “How d'ye keep it all up with just the two of ye?”

  Darragh marveled at her composure—he could think of nothing but getting between those legs. He noticed William’s questioning expression with a start and realized he’d missed something.

  “Say again?”

  William smiled, his eyes creasing with the gesture. “I think ’tis best we get some sleep, Mama.”

  He stood and his wife did the same, though she wasn’t successful at hiding her surprise. William may be hard of hearing, but Darragh had the impression he knew exactly what was happening beneath the table.

  “I’ll see to these things in the morning.” Gwen offered apologetically before disappearing within the sleeping area to the right.

  “Ye two stay up as long as ye like,” William said, looking back at them. “Ye’ll not bother us. We sleep like the dead.”

  Darragh would swear the man winked. He turned to hide his smirk, but when he turned back, he was met by Brighit’s urgent kiss. With a hand on either side of his face, she pulled his lips to hers, shifting restlessly on the bench beside him. Her raspy breathing told him she shared his need. She was simply better at hiding it.

  He pulled her onto his lap without breaking the kiss and slid the material of her gown high enough that he could slip his hand between her thighs, finding her quite damp.

  “Well, aren’t ye the sly little fox?” Darragh whispered. “Asking all those questions while ye had only this on yer mind.”

  He rubbed against her without hindrance since she wore nothing beneath. She moaned into his mouth, rocking her hips in rhythm with the insistent movement of his fingers stroking her.

  Breaking the kiss, she seemed to purr in his ear. “I have wanted ye something fierce.”

  His arousal came on him so fast, it was almost painful. Even though he’d prefer to take her without people a few feet away, his cock had no such qualms. “And I would like to give ye what ye want.”

  Sliding her gown to her waist, he guided her legs to either side of him so that she was straddling him. He closed his eyes in ecstasy when he pushed his solid bulge along her most intimate area.

  “How is this?”

  “More.”

  Her voice was so husky, he had to see her expression. Darragh stilled. Her eyes were closed, a slight frown knit between her brows as if her complete attention was devoted to rocking her hips against him. Like a slap to the face, he realized it had to be the tea making her act this way. Disappointment overwhelmed him. He wanted her willingly, not like this.

  “Brighit?”

  It took her a moment to focus on him when she opened her eyes. “Nice.”

  Well, that was a yank on his prick, but he needed to protect her from herself. “The tincture ye had in the tea? D'ye remember?”

  She nodded, rubbing her breasts against him until he cupped one solid globe in his firm grip, thumbing the nipple into a firm peak even through the course material. “It may be causing ye to feel this way.”

  “I always feel this way with ye.”

  Those words knocked the breath right out of him. He searched her expression, feeling an odd sense that she was speaking the truth to him. Mayhap he should stop and wait until the herbs were out of her system, but his need for her was only growing stronger. God knew she was doing nothing to help him quench his desire.

  “I want my husband,” she whispered huskily. Her need was killing him, and he didn’t doubt that she wanted fulfillment, but it seemed he was taking advantage of her. “Now,” she urged.

  Suddenly desperate, he slid his hands beneath her dress, trailing them up her flat stomach to grip a firm breast, his nose slipping along her neck before nipping it. Shifting closer without the slightest impediment to his pleasant grasping of the underside of her breast, she moved nose to nose so her face was a blur, and said, “And we shouldn’t wait.”

  He hesitated for as much time as it took her insistent hand to find the bulge and run her fingers along his length.

  Guilt washed over him. “I am–“

  She squeezed his length through the thin material.

  “—not certain ye would want this had ye not been giv—”

  Her insistent stroking and pulling was doing him in.

  “—en the tea.”

  Her hand worked its way into his trews so that they were skin to skin, and he stilled at the tremendously pleasant sensation nearly sending him over the edge.

  “Ye’re wanting this, too.” She whispered against his lips, rubbing his nose, and looking at him with eyes hooded with desire even as she stroked him mercilessly.

  With a groan, he loosened the waist of his trews until his cock was presented, stiff and proud. With not even a pause, she sheathed him to the hilt in her womanly depths and gave a deep-throated groan of satisfaction.

  It was heaven and he moaned. Loud. But before he could think to worry about the noise, she was riding him, demanding his undivided attention. Her exquisite tightness threatening to undo him.

  He could only moan. For some reason this seemed right. He decided she could have her way with him and prayed he’d be able to see her satisfied.

  Making mewling sounds like a cat in heat, she shifted forward and back as she rose and fell on him in a very satisfying way. Helpless to her ministrations, he had to grip her hips at one point to keep her from setting him off too quickly, she felt that delicious.

  When he lifted her leine to suckle her heavy breast, she stilled and threw back her head in pleasure. He prodded her again and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. Holding her hips still, he thrust into her until he met her in the heights of satisfaction.

  Exhausted and covered in sweat, she collapsed against him, turning her face away to heave in great lungfuls of air. He did nearly the same, unwilling to remove himself from a place he’d longed to be for more than a week now.

  They said nothing as their hearts began to slow along with their breathing. She was extraordinary and showed no signs of shoving him away.

  A deep snoring resounded from the hidden pallet. They stilled like possums. Then burst out laughing.

  “Shhhh.” Darragh put a finger to his mouth. “Do not awaken our hosts.”

  Brighit giggled, her body quaking with the movements where his body should have been softening inside her. That didn’t seem to be the case. She nodded right before her wide-mouthed yawn took over.

  “I have exhausted my lovely bride.” Darragh pushed the hair back from her face then traced her sweet pink lips, bruised a bright red from their passionate kisses. “My delightful wife.”

  Her sleepy expression shifted into a smile, but she said nothing.

  “Tell me ye will remember this come morning? That ye found great pleasure in my arms?”

  Brighit nodded right before her head lowered to his shoulder and her quiet snoring began. Darragh sighed, content to hold her a bit longer and to wonder at how one woman could fit so perfectly against him. It was indeed as if she belonged there.

  Chapter 17

  Brighit awoke to the tantalizing smell of sweet cream and honey. The scent reminded her of her favorite childhood treat —oats dripping with both. Her insides rumbled, and she stretched her arms overhead.

  Beside her, Darragh slept soundlessly, his arm still wrapped around her waist as if he were afraid to lose her even in sleep. She turned toward him, tracing the be
ard that grew along his strong jaw. A handsome man indeed, her husband.

  Despite his concerns, she remembered everything about the night before. It had been wonderful—everything she’d hoped for.

  “Yer belly is loud enough to wake the dead.” Darragh spoke with his eyes closed.

  Her stomach growled again. “I cannot help it. I smell food and I’m hungry.”

  “As am I.” Darragh yanked her close, his breath heavy in her ear, and said, “Ye are most satisfying, a ghráidh.”

  “As are ye.”

  “Ah, ye remember?”

  She blushed, and he nuzzled into her neck. “My hope is that ye enjoyed it enough that we may try it again,” he continued.

  “D'ye think they’ll hear us?”

  He put her hand to his hardened length, covering it with his own hand. “They left a while ago. I’ve been waiting patiently.”

  The idea excited her as did the feel of his heat beneath her hand. The slamming of the door jerked them apart.

  “They’re satisfied, Mama. Do not worry so.” William’s words were followed by something heavy dropping onto the table.

  “William,” Gwen hissed the word. “Our guests are still sleeping.”

  “A moment,” Darragh kept hold of her hand, though he moved it to his heart, when she would have stood. “Ye cannot know what ye mean to me.” Her breath caught, and he glanced at the closed curtain as if he could see through it to the elderly couple probably working over the fire. “How pleased I am with ye.”

  Her eyes widened, and she glanced away, embarrassed. “Are ye speaking of our love making?”

  He turned her to face him before pulling her closer, surrounding her with his arms. “I am. And so much more.”

  “Sit yerself down.” Gwen’s loud hissing carried through the curtain, her annoyance with her husband obvious.

  Darragh snorted. “I should have picked a better time to speak my mind, mayhap when we were completely alone, but I wanted ye to hear the truth.” He cupped her cheek, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb, “I’d have taken ye to wife even if we’d not been promised to each other at birth.”