The Border Lord and the Lady

by Bertrice Small

  Had she lost what few wits she had remaining? Cicely asked herself. He was a vile, wicked man! But he was also to be her husband, and the truth was, she found to her confusion that he excited her. It had been months since she had been made love to, for Ian had not wanted to touch her once he knew she was with child. Oh, she had coaxed him now and again, but he had been so fearful of harming her or the child.

  The cousins were similar in physical form. Both Ian and Kier were very tall. Ian had been bigger boned. Kier was slender, but well made, and a quick glance at his male part told Cicely that his was longer and, she suspected, would be thicker than her husband’s manhood had been. She attempted to put her thoughts from her, but then Kier was pulling her close again, their bodies were touching, their mouths were fused in a kiss that grew deeper and more intense as the seconds slid by.

  They fell together upon the bed. Propping himself up against her pillows, Kier pulled Cicely up between his outstretched legs. His hands reached around to fasten upon her breasts as he kissed her creamy shoulder.

  Cicely jumped. The touch was so intimate. Ian’s touch had never felt so suggestive, so sensual. She distinctly felt the rounds of her breasts resting upon his hot palms. He fondled the warm flesh, and she shivered. The balls of his thumbs stroked her nipples, and a small whimper escaped Cicely.

  Behind her Kier smiled. He was hot to have her, but he fully intended taking his time with her. She was still angry. Still resisting. But within a short time she would lie beneath him, and while afterwards she would convince herself he had forced her, she would yield herself willingly if he did not rush her. They would be bound until death. He hoped that eventually they would be friends.

  Cicely remained silent. He had entrapped her. Was forcing her to his will. But what choice did she have? She wondered if her father had known in the end that the choice would not be hers at all. He gently pinched her nipples, and another whimper escaped her as the sensation raced between her breasts and to the hidden place between her thighs. She was like a young mare being brought to the bridle, Cicely thought.

  Kier shifted himself so he might lay her down. He began to kiss her fair body. What was the seductive fragrance that enveloped her? It intoxicated his senses, and a groan escaped him. His mouth closed over each breast in its turn, sucking upon the tender nipples, nibbling them, licking them. He tasted breast milk briefly before quickly moving away. She had not yet obtained a wet nurse for Johanna, and he would not rob the child of her nourishment.

  Cicely felt herself beginning to tremble just a little. He was kissing every inch of her body. Ian had never done such a thing. He turned her this way and that, his lips brushing over her skin. And then he began to lick her. Cicely almost fainted then and there. The sweep of his tongue across her flesh sent chills up her spine, and hot flashes down the backbone. She squirmed to get away from the sensuousness of that tongue.

  “You taste delicious,” he told her.

  “I don’t think I want you to do this,” she protested faintly. “Ian never did this.”

  “Then you can hardly compare us as lovers, Cicely,” he said. “Being older than my cousin I have had a bit more experience. Ian never left the borders. I have.” Reaching for her foot, he kissed it, and began to suck upon her toes.

  She would have pulled away from him but that he held her calf tightly in one hand. Her head was spinning. She had never imagined such . . . such . . . “Ohh!”

  He had relinquished her foot and was now licking up her legs. His hand pushed her thighs apart, and he licked the insides of the sensitive flesh. His fingers began to play with her folds, running up and down her slit, pressing past it. The tip of one finger touched her love bud. She shuddered. He stroked it slowly, slowly, until Cicely was aching with a need she could not deny. He pushed a finger into her sheath, moving it about, and she moaned. “More?” he queried her, and added a second finger, the two digits imitating what his manhood would soon do. Her love juices were already beginning to flow, creamy and warm over his hand. He leaned forward and kissed her slowly.

  The kiss deepened and grew more passionate as the minutes slipped by. Withdrawing his fingers, he sucked on them while she watched him with big eyes. He smiled into those eyes, and Cicely blushed at the knowing look he gave her. “You are ready to be fucked, aren’t you?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Never!” she lied. “Never by you!”

  He laughed softly, covering her body with his, positioning his hard cock at the entry to her love sheath. “There is much I am going to teach you, Cicely, for I can see my cousin did little to tutor you in the arts of love. But tonight I am simply going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until you admit your need for me, as I am willing to admit my need for you. And when you have spoken truthfully to me I will give you more pleasure than you have ever received. You are passionate, I suspect. And we will have that much in common on our wedding day: our lust for each other.”

  And then, pinioning her arms above her head, he drove himself deep into her hot sheath, his eyes blazing as he carried out his threat. He was tireless in his desire, thrusting again and again and again into her heat. “Wrap your legs about me,” he growled into her ear after some minutes had passed. He pressed deeper into her. Still dissatisfied, he withdrew his steaming cock from her and pulled her legs over his shoulders before driving himself deep into her body. “Ahhh,” he groaned as he plunged deeper. “Ahh, Christ’s balls, yes!” But he would not take his release. Not yet.

  Cicely’s head was spinning. His first entry after so many months of her enforced abstinence was, though she hated to admit it, delicious. She had not realized how much she had missed this. When he ordered her to enfold him with her legs and pushed deeper she wanted to scream with delight. But when he forced her legs back and over his shoulders he drove himself deeper into her than she had ever known a man could. His cock was longer than Ian’s, and certainly thicker, but she seemed able to contain it.

  Her head was spinning. Her nails clawed at his broad back in her passion. When he laughed she sank her teeth into his meaty shoulder, trying to keep from screaming. Then he touched something within her, and pleasure such as she had never known engulfed Cicely. She could not hold herself back. “Blessed Mother! You are surely the devil, Kier Douglas, and I want you!” And Cicely screamed softly as he brought her to a place she had never before been. “Damn you! Damn you!” she sobbed as he continued to piston her until she was overcome with a fiery gratification such as she had never before known. Then, as her love juices bathed his eager cock, Cicely fell into a swoon. But as she floated away she heard his roar of triumph, and felt his lust filling her.

  When she awoke Cicely found herself alone. A bright fire burned in her hearth. She had been carefully tucked beneath the coverlet, and her two white terriers were sleeping in their usual spot by the fireplace. Had she had some wicked erotic dream? she wondered. Or had Kier Douglas forced her to his will? Aye, it was a dream! But she knew it wasn’t so. Her body ached with a delicious soreness that only a bout of fierce lovemaking could produce. Her thighs were sticky with their combined juices. And to her shame she had enjoyed every minute of their passionate encounter.

  Well, why not? They would be wed. And if she did not love him, at least if she was expected to bear him a son she should enjoy his attentions. But she would make him wait longer before she would say her vows. That much control over her life would be hers. She would speak to the priest. She knew now how she would revenge herself on Kier for the night past. Cicely turned over and fell into a satisfied sleep.

  But Kier Douglas had no intention of waiting until June first to marry Cicely. At first light he arose, dressed himself, and went to Mass in the village church, that he might speak with the priest afterwards. “Come up to the hall with me and break your fast,” Kier invited Ambrose Douglas after the Mass was concluded. “We’ll talk along the way.”

  The priest looked closely at his companion. “The rumor is that a messenger came from the ki
ng yesterday,” he said as they left the church.

  Kier nodded. “Aye, James has ordered me to wed Cicely without delay, and according to her the queen’s message promised that her entire dower would be restored.”

  “Your da will be pleased,” Ambrose Douglas said.

  “You’ve drawn up the contracts, I assume?” Kier asked him.

  “Aye,” the priest replied. “When Sir William told me what he wanted I did it. Has Cicely become more reasonable, then?”

  “Cicely will do as she is bidden,” Kier Douglas told his companion.

  The priest barked his laughter. “Ha! Ha, ha! You are a fool if you believe that, my lord of Glengorm.”

  “I bedded her last night,” Kier announced. “She’ll wed me now without any ado.”

  “I will not countenance any rape!” the priest said in a hard voice.

  “There was no rape, Ambrose. Just gentle persuasion,” Kier assured him. “I am ordered to remain on my lands until she has delivered me a son. There is going to be war in the north, and those doing the king good service will be rewarded for that loyalty. And where will I be? Nay, I want her with child as quickly as possible. I want that son born so I may share in some of the glory.”

  “Even if you got her with child last night, it will still be months before a child is born, and it could be another daughter, Kier,” the priest said. “You had best make peace with your ambitions. You’re a border lord. Nothing more.”

  Kier was silent; then he said, “I know you’re right, Ambrose, but I want more. I always have. Perhaps it is the circumstances of my birth. I have a blood tie with this king through my mother, God assoil her good soul.”

  “Listen to me, Kier. I do not deny what you are saying, but kings are the most fickle of men, and this Stewart in particular. How much of his own family’s blood has he spilled since his return? Like me, you’re bastard-born, but you’ve been fortunate in life. Your father’s wife loved and raised you as if you were her own natural bairn. Your father has loved you, and has given you a lordship you would not otherwise have had were it not for the death of your cousin Ian, and Sir William’s intercession with this king. You are being given an heiress wife who has already proved fertile. With God’s blessing she will give you bairns of your own blood. Be satisfied, man. Do not tempt fortune,” the priest warned the new laird. “What you have now is more than most men ever get.”

  The new laird of Glengorm sighed. “I suppose there is time for my ambition. It isn’t as if this will be the only battle King James fights,” he reasoned.

  Ambrose Douglas smiled. “Aye, your ambition can wait. Now you must come to some kind of an accommodation with Cicely. She is a proud woman, if not just a little spoiled. If you cannot love her then you must at least try to become friends with her.”

  “What was her father thinking that he made her such a ridiculous promise?” Kier wondered aloud. “Women don’t choose their husbands.”

  “Most don’t, ’tis true,” the priest agreed. “Men are wiser and have clearer heads when it comes to picking a husband for their daughters. But this Earl of Leighton was letting his daughter go off to an unknown land. He was not a man of the English court, and did not know James Stewart. He trusted his daughter to choose her husband before he would trust a stranger to do it, since he could not.”

  “I wonder if he would have approved of Ian, or of me,” Kier said.

  The priest laughed. “You just need Cicely to approve of you, my son. And if I might make a suggestion, I would propose you not use so heavy a hand with the lady. Women have subtle ways of taking their revenge, and when they do you will find it is not to your liking.” He chuckled darkly.

  They reached the house and, entering the hall, found Cicely there directing the servants to bring the morning meal. Seeing the priest she ran to him. “Father Ambrose! Father Ambrose! You must convince the new laird that if we are to wed I need time first to mourn my beloved Ian. He is dead but six months. My husband is entitled to more respect than his cousin is willing to give him. Ian’s love for me was more deserving. My lord Kier says we must marry on the first day of June.” And Cicely sobbed a small sob, turning her head from them in feigned distress.

  Both the priest and the laird knew she was lying. Ambrose Douglas almost laughed aloud. Had he not just warned Kier? The servants in the hall were pretending not to listen, but they were. And they would gossip of what happened here this day. If the new lord of Glengorm did not agree, or at least compromise, it would take years for him to regain the respect of the village folk. If indeed he ever could.

  But Kier was not thinking about that. “Madam!” he thundered at her.

  Cicely pretended to cringe away from him, giving a little cry of distress as her hand flew to her mouth.

  Again the priest was forced to restrain his laughter. He was going to have to do something quickly, before Sir William’s normally prudent son did something foolish. “My children,” he said in his quiet yet strong voice. “Let us break our fast first, and then we will discuss this matter, for it is important not only to you, but to all of Glengorm. Come, come to the table.” He led them to the high board. “My child,” he said to Cicely as he drew out her chair for her, “we missed you at the Mass this morning.”

  “Forgive me, good Father, but before I can set foot in our wee church again I must make my confession to you,” Cicely said softly, but quite distinctly.

  “You vixen,” Kier hissed at her. His blue eyes were hard.

  “My lord, do not shame me publicly,” Cicely murmured, “lest I be forced to stronger measures.” She gave him a wicked little smile.

  “Ahh, ham!” Father Ambrose said enthusiastically as the dishes were placed upon the table. “I always enjoy ham.” He dug his spoon into his bread trencher. “Umm, Mab has flavored the oat stirabout with spices and honey.”

  “ ’Twas Ian’s favorite,” Cicely said sweetly.

  Kier glowered darkly.

  “Give over, my daughter,” the priest said, low. “You have won this battle.”

  “But not the war,” Kier Douglas snarled.

  They ate the hot oats, the ham, and the hard-boiled eggs, along with a crusty loaf of newly baked bread with butter and a berry jam. Their cups were filled with cider. The silence filling the hall now was almost ominous. When they had finished eating Cicely arose, preparing to depart the hall.

  “I must see to Johanna,” she said.

  “Not quite yet, my daughter,” Father Ambrose replied in a voice that even Cicely realized was not to be challenged. He stood. “Come, let the three of us sit by the hearth and discuss what needs discussing so there may be no more confusion about this matter.”

  They followed him from the high board and settled themselves as he had suggested near the fireplace. Cicely was looking particularly pretty this morning in a simple gown of spring green, her auburn hair plaited neatly into a single braid. She spread her skirts about her and looked to the priest. Kier, however, did not sit. He stood, looking fierce and determined.

  “Now, my lord,” the priest addressed the new laird, “my lady, the widow of Glengorm, has made a salient point in this matter. Your cousin, the late laird, may God and his sainted Mother bless him, was both loved and esteemed by his folk. To rush his widow, but a few months after childbirth, into a marriage with you lacks the respect that needs to be shown to Ian Douglas’s memory, no matter what the king and Sir William want.”

  Cicely smiled sweetly at Kier, who glowered back.

  “Your father,” the priest continued, “can give you Glengorm. King James can approve his decision. But only you can earn the good regard of your folk, Kier. And in times to come you will need that loyalty not once, but often.” Now Ambrose Douglas turned to Cicely. “As for you, my daughter, the marriage contract is drawn and ready for your signatures. You will marry this man three days after the first anniversary of Ian’s death in October. You will not seek to delay your marriage in any way. I don’t care if the Grahames are banging on the d
oor to the hall. You will wed Kier Douglas on the eighteenth of October, and we will be done with it! Now, I shall expect you at the church today to make your confession to me.” The priest stood and walked from the hall.

  “Well, madam, you have gotten your way and had your revenge on me, haven’t you?” Kier said darkly.

  “And you have gotten your way, my lord, haven’t you?” Cicely countered, not denying his accusation of revenge. That was what it had been.

  “Do not think this delay will keep me from your bed,” he told her. “I will have you with child by our wedding day.”

  “If you persist in treating me roughly, my lord, I will fight you,” Cicely told him plainly. “Are you so lustful that you cannot deny yourself for a few more months?”

  Stepping before her chair, he yanked Cicely up, pulling her against him, a hard arm about her waist. He tipped her face up and kissed her not cruelly, but softly, seductively. “Had I been in Eden we should still be there,” he boasted. “My willpower is strong.” The hand on her face slid down into the neckline of her gown to cup a breast. His thumb encircled the soft nipple, which hardened almost instantly. “Eve was the weak one, madam,” he taunted her. His lips brushed hers again.

  Dizzy though she was, Cicely managed to kick him in the shins. “I am not Eve!” she said furiously. “If men are so strong, why did not God make them carry and bear the babies, my lord? I will obey you all: the king, Sir William, the Church. I will wed you in October, and I will be a good wife to you. But until then, my lord, it is war between us. Now release me! I must attend to my daughter.”

  He let her go, but as she stamped away, he said, “What is this need you seem to have to constantly score me, madam? You have surely bruised my shin in your temper, my back is raw with your scratches, and I have the marks of your teeth in my shoulder yet.” But he was smiling, although she did not see it. He was going to get strong sons on this fiery woman, he decided.

  Cicely blushed at the words he flung after her, but she never turned. Blessed Mother! Were Artair and Tam grinning? Were Effie and Sine, their two heads together, giggling? Of course they had overheard, and soon it would be all about the kitchen, and next the village. Then Cicely laughed softly to herself, seeing the humor in the situation. The gossip her servants told would, oddly enough, comfort their clanfolk. The new laird was settling in. He would wed the lady in the autumn, and there would be sons for Glengorm sooner than later.