Captive Love [Highland Menage 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  He pointed his finger at her, and then to the ground. For some reason, he refused to speak. Fine! She had to get off sometime. She dismounted by herself, making it plain she didn’t wish his hands on her. When her feet touched ground he leaned forward, grabbed her hips, and tossed her over his shoulder.

  She couldn’t help the shriek that escaped. She bit the second one back, after his hand connected with her upturned arse. The men laughed as he strode away, uphill. She struggled but could do nothing. He set her down, holding her until he made sure she wasn’t dizzy. She looked around. There was a tree stump and not much else below them on the hillside. Above, more trees edged the top of the hill. Angus sat on the stump and pointed to his lap. She frowned, unsure of what he wanted.

  “Ye wish me to sit on yer lap?”

  He held out his hand for hers. She let him clasp it. He yanked, and she fell forward. She landed across his lap, belly down. He was going to spank her!

  “Ye are nay doin’ this!” She struggled to get loose.

  Still silent he slid the heel of his left hand up her back, holding her down. It went over her shoulders and up her neck. When he reached the back of her head he grasped her hair. He gave a small jerk, as Gillis had done earlier only more forcefully, so she’d know he could make it feel worse.

  With his right hand he pulled at her skirt. She felt a breeze as he bared her thighs. She struggled as the sun hit her naked cheeks.

  “Nay!” she shrieked, letting loose with everything she had.

  “Hush, wife, or ye’ll get more.”

  She shrieked even louder when his palm struck.

  * * * *

  Angus admired the pink handprint that had appeared on his wife’s white arse. Fiona struggled, arousing him even more. She wouldn’t get loose, but he wasted no breath telling her so. He’d had lots of practice wrestling with all fifteen brothers as well as the Cameron lads.

  “When I get loose ye willna be a happy man!”

  He continued to admire his handiwork.

  “Ye are wrong, wife. Watching ye ride with a sore arse will make me very happy.” He applied a matching spank to her other cheek. She squeaked, more in surprise than pain. He could smell her arousal. He didn’t think she’d taken the horse just for the punishment though she might have done it to see how he would react. He gave her another one.

  “Ow! Ye dinna have to do this in front of the guard!”

  “Aye, wife, I do. Ye must learn I will care for ye.”

  He added another spank so she’d know exactly what he meant by caring. He had to know she would obey him when her safety was at stake. He’d seen the horse falter, and she’d instantly stopped. If she hadn’t she’d be getting far worse than a spanking.

  “I told ye nay, twice, and ye still disobeyed me. Ye stole a horse, which could bring ye a whipping or hanging. Be thankful ye’re getting a wife’s spanking.”

  “I didn’t steal it! Ye kenned I would give it back. I but needed to show ye how I could ride!”

  “Laird Cameron put Dubhmor into my protection. What ye did is the same as stealing from the laird. Now hush, so I can finish this job. And dinna try moving or coverin’ yer arse.”

  Chapter Nine

  Fiona rode in the midst again, sore from her spanking. The plodding pace made her backside worse, especially as they’d taken her sheepskin. She realized after she’d calmed down that Angus had angled her so the men below couldn’t see her bare flesh. Her face still flamed at their sideways glances and snickers. She stared back at them, defiant. Racing Dubhmor had been well worth it.

  At least her uncle would know nothing about her spanking. She could pretend to be demure and obedient, the way a lady should. She hoped she didn’t have to fake it for too long. An hour, tops. She wasn’t paying much attention as they rode around a large rock.

  “There they be,” said Ambrose. “Clan Fraser.”

  Fiona reined in along with the others. Six men waited on horseback. The noses of their horses made an invisible line in the rocky hillside. The men in front of her moved to the side, leaving her in full view. After a moment the oldest Fraser rode forward. He looked her up and down, frowning. The guard beside her reached out and snatched her bonnet off. She glared at him for touching her, then moved her glare to the Fraser man. His eyes opened wide. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he nodded.

  “Aye, ye look like the laird’s youngest daughter. Well met, Camerons. I be Iain, captain of the guard.”

  Ambrose gave him a nod of respect. “Ye ken Lady Fiona. This be her husband, Angus MacDougal, and his brother, Gillis.”

  One of the men curled his lip at Angus, and then Gillis. “MacDougals,” he added as if barely able to say the name without spitting.

  “Nay, Calum,” said Iain without looking at the man. “They be guests of Lord Lovat.” He faced Ambrose, ignoring the rest of them. “Some of the men are for Lady Fraser.”

  “‘Tis a long way from Cawdor to Oban,” replied Angus mildly.

  His words did not match his stiff posture. Fiona couldn’t see his eyes but expected they were hard and direct. The older man took his measure. He nodded, barely.

  “Cook sent dried apple tarts, just a wee bit burnt,” said Ambrose, captain to captain. “Mayhaps ye’d help us eat them afore they spoil?”

  The Frasers all looked to their captain. Fiona could almost see them drool. Laird Menzies did not waste delicacies on troops. Was her uncle the same?

  “We wouldna wish to have food spoil, now, would we, lads? ‘Tis been a few weeks since we’ve had something sweet.”

  The promise of tarts broke the tension. Fiona was relieved to hear the men in the field were not forgotten about. The rare times a treat was sent out she’d gone without. Everything went by rank and blood. To her father’s men she had neither. They knew they could not abuse her, but they could, and did, do everything short of it.

  Each man cared for his own horse, hobbling them so they could graze. Fiona did the same though it shocked the Fraser men. They kept looking at Angus to see why he allowed it, or didn’t step in as her husband. She was pleased Angus let her show she was no parasite. Because she confused the men they pretended she didn’t exist. She was used to that.

  Iain was the only one who approached, and that to offer her a tart. She declined, explaining she’d counted them and discovered there’d be two for each man if she had none. Iain looked at her strangely but moved on without speaking. She stood quietly while news was exchanged along with the food. None of them sat, as having had enough time in the saddle they preferred to stand. When she thanked the Camerons for their escort they murmured various suggestions that added up to trusting the Frasers fairly well but never turning her back on the Campbell.

  They rode until mid-afternoon. The worst of the rain held off, but it was miserable as they did not stop or speak until they arrived at the camp. Fiona grimaced at the state of her clothes and her body. She’d have to face her uncle looking like a half-drowned rat and not a legitimate daughter. Iain took her reins as they rode near.

  “Am I a prisoner?” she asked icily. “I am certainly not a child unable to control my own mount.”

  He grunted a non-reply and led her horse forward. The rest of the guard kept her husbands back. Iain stopped before the largest tent. There was no mistaking who it belonged to. The Fraser banner of a strawberry plant with fruit and flowers announced his presence. The thought of how much the velvet tent had cost near made her swoon. Once more her bonnet was pulled off. She opened her mouth to curse.

  “Dinna speak, wife!”

  She snapped her mouth shut at Angus’s order. She looked over the back of her horse at him. He gave her the same look she’d seen just before he upended her over his lap. A shot of arousal at the memory made her even more furious. She pressed her lips together to keep the words behind her teeth and faced forward again. While she was fuming at Angus a tall man with graying red hair and eyes of blue ice had appeared in front of the tent. It could only be her uncle, Lord Fra
ser of Lovat.

  She had the advantage of height for once, being on a horse. It meant nothing to a man of such power. He took in everything about her. Her flyaway hair, the clothes she’d been riding in for two days, even the way she sat in the saddle.

  “I was misinformed about your death, my dear niece. Welcome.”

  After what she’d experienced since taking Angus’s horse hours earlier his smile caught her by surprise. She hadn’t prepared herself for a warm welcome. Why should she when her own father had rejected her? She blinked rapidly.

  “Ye believe I am yer niece?”

  “You not only have my sister’s hair and features,” he said dryly, “you have her fiery nature.”

  He held up his arms to help her dismount as if she was too weak to swing her leg over. For once she felt no irritation that he thought she was unable to do it herself. Smiling at his welcome she let him lift her from the saddle. He set her down in front of him and kissed her forehead. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even speak at his benevolent touch.

  “Welcome home, Fiona Fraser,” he said.

  “The woman ye just kissed, Lord Lovat, is Fiona ban MacDougal, and my wife,” said Angus, breaking the spell.

  She realized the men were still on horseback. Her husband’s reins were held by Fraser’s men, just as hers had been. Her husbands sat tall, arms folded in front of them. She’d seen drawings of centaurs in a book. If these two were shirtless they’d have a lot in common. The centaurs had also scowled. She was sure it was no accident the pose bulked up their muscles. It felt good to see Angus and Gillis out of place for a change.

  “This woman is a Fraser until confirmed otherwise,” said Lovat mildly, as if giving orders to a servant. He hadn’t moved his eyes from her.

  “Nay Menzies?” she asked.

  “He didn’t deserve you, or your mother. He sent word a girl child died at birth along with my sister. I grieved for you both.”

  Lovat looked just like she wished her father had, kind and caring.

  “Some say my mother lived for many weeks after my birth.” Lady Eloise had no proof her father had hastened her mother’s death. Her uncle understood her words. His face hardened.

  “Menzies gave up his right to you. I will care for you now.”

  Though her heart sang at being wanted she cursed the timing. If only he had found her before she met the MacDougals. She did not want to cross this man, but had to speak up.

  “I spoke vows with Angus MacDougal in front of a priest, Uncle.” Her face heated, but she pushed on. “It was consummated,” she added quietly.

  “Loudly. Multiple times,” added Gillis, loud and proud.

  Her face now burned. The next time she was near enough to Gillis she would jab her fist into his hard belly. It may not go in far, but it would make her feel better.

  “Vows said under duress can be put aside, my dear.” Her uncle waved his hand as if he could make the marriage disappear with a flick of his wrist. “You had a fever and were not in your right mind when you were handfasted. As for the other, Cameron did not give you a choice.”

  “But—”

  He gestured again, this time toward the tent. “Anna awaits with a hot bath. She will unpack your things while you rest. I shall join you for the evening meal. Relax and enjoy yourself, my dear. You are in my hands now.” He put his hand on her upper back and urged her forward. The tent flap dropped behind her.

  She wanted the hot bath, desperately. She liked that her uncle wished to care for her, but what would he do with her husbands? She had no say in the matter and must wait to see what happened. The tent was more luxurious than her wedding chamber had been. The thought of soaking her sore nether regions drew her forward. She would put out of her mind what she could not control, and enjoy herself.

  With luck she wouldn’t get near a horse again for a long time.

  Chapter Ten

  Angus watched the tent flap fall behind his wife. He and Gillis couldn’t offer Fiona a dress of velvet much less an entire tent. When she was dismissed by Lovat, and the offer of the bath had been an obvious dismissal, Fiona had stalked forward, head high and back straight.

  She’d not looked back.

  He’d expected they’d be separated temporarily. He had not expected how much it would affect him to see Fiona walk away. He told himself it was the promise of a bath that made her eager to abandon them. Because of the way she was raised her first hot bath had been at Inverlochy before their wedding. After the last few days, and nights, she deserved a soak.

  “Mayhaps ye shouldn’t have applied yer hand to her backside,” said Gillis quietly. “She’ll not be pleased with ye for spanking her in front of the Cameron guard.”

  “‘Twas necessary,” he replied. “A wife must obey her husband.”

  It was also for her own safety. She might not see the danger he did, or understand why, so she must learn to obey instantly. A man was judged by the behavior of those he was responsible for. Fiona was a strong woman. He liked that. But he was a stronger man, and she would learn that fact, one way or the other. He rather enjoyed this way. So did she, judging by how wet his finger had been when he checked before pulling her skirts down after spanking her.

  He would do anything to keep Fiona as their wife. After a visit with her uncle she would return with them to Duncladach. The three of them, along with his brothers, would serve their laird. Life would be as simple as before but a lot more enjoyable with a woman like Fiona to warm their bed.

  “I owe you the life of my niece,” said Lovat, breaking into his thoughts. Angus set his full attention on the man. “About the manner of your meeting. My lady wife is a Campbell of Cawdor and is fostering a pair of her own nieces. Do you understand?”

  “Aye,” said Gillis. “Ye dinna wish us to speak against yer wife’s people. Dinna fash yerself, Laird Fraser. ‘Twas the Glenorchy Campbells what caught us, and Cawdor’s a long way from Duncladach.”

  Gillis spoke in a calm, sure manner, surprising Angus. Perhaps it had finally gotten into his thick skull that their future with Fiona depended on how they behaved for the next few days. Gillis raised a bushy red eyebrow and leaned forward. He bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. Angus silently cursed.

  “And Duncladach is where Lady Fiona ban MacDougal will raise her bairns.”

  “You are my guests,” said Lovat. His eyes narrowed at Gillis’s threat. “I will decide whether my niece is married or not. If yes, you will be reunited.”

  “And if yer answer is nay?”

  Lovat didn’t move as much as an eyelash, yet his demeanor went from reluctant host to foe in an instant.

  “You and your brother will be escorted back to Clan Cameron land.”

  Gillis muttered choice swear words in Gaelic, but they were under his breath. Lovat either pretended he hadn’t heard or was unfamiliar with the language. He made a motion with his hand. One of his men brought a black horse. It was younger than Dubhmor but no less fine.

  “We ride.” Lovat didn’t wait for them. He mounted and walked his horse forward. They, of course, couldn’t move with their reins held.

  “Give over yer weapons,” ordered one of the Fraser men.

  “I canna give ye my hands, and they be fine weapons,” said Gillis. The look on his face said he was eager to use them.

  “‘Tis a test,” replied Angus. He spoke more for the Frasers than his brother, who he knew was joking. There was too much at stake to take action against Lovat. “There’ll be a man with a crossbow watching each of us. If we make the wrong move Fiona will be a widow, free to marry as her uncle wishes.”

  Gillis grunted his understanding though his scowl didn’t fade. They each handed over their claymore, dirk, and the sgian dhub tucked into the tops of their boot. The Fraser men waited, scowling back. Angus and Gillis next reached for their hidden weapons, strapped to their right thighs and left forearms. Iain, the guard captain, gave Gillis a sharp look, raised an eyebrow, and held out his hand. Angus was surprised when Gillis gr
inned, reached back and pulled a knife from between his shoulder blades.

  “‘Twas a test, ye ken,” said Gillis as he handed it over hilt first.

  “Where did ye get that?” demanded Angus.

  “Won it off Darach while ye were makin’ Fiona scream in his chamber after yer wedding.”

  “Scream?”

  “Aye,” replied Gillis, grinning wide at Lovat’s soft demand. He stuck his finger in his ear and rattled it as if Fiona’s screams still echoed inside his head. “Angus had her reach her peak a few times afore he bellowed. She’s a screamer but dinna worry about yer sleep bein’ disturbed. We got her a strap of leather to bite down on.”

  Angus silently cursed his brother. Gillis was doing it on purpose, bluntly telling her uncle that she was not only well bedded, she’d enjoyed the process.

  “I told the Cameron laddies not to tell Darach the walls of his bedchamber let all in the hall hear a bride’s joy,” added Gillis to Angus. “I put a coin down that he’ll nay do as well.”

  Chuckles from the guard were quickly stifled. Their reins were handed back. When they wheeled their horses around Lovat showed a bland face as if he had not heard. Angus was sure the man heard, saw, and knew everything, just as Cameron and Somerled did. Both lairds knew to keep it all to themselves until such time it was of use. Surrounded by Frasers, with Fiona under Lovat’s control, he and Gillis had no choice but to play the laird’s cat and mouse game. They would win no matter what and would then leave with Fiona.

  Or they would die.

  They rode either side of Lovat along the path they’d just arrived on for a short while before turning to ride uphill. Their horses were tired from the last two days of riding. The brothers leaned forward, making it easier for the animals to climb. They rode at a shallow angle following a faint path. A small group of armsmen followed. They didn’t have crossbows but they made sure to show their swords were ready. Angus realized Lovat was leading them to the summit. He reined in, as did Gillis.