by Maya Banks
His hands delving into her hair, holding her tight as he guided his cock into the velvet heat of her mouth. Sinking deep. Back and forth, her tongue rubbing erotically over the crown.
Fire gathered in his groin. His sac tightened unbearably and his release boiled like a cauldron low and then rising. Racing up his shaft. Faster and harder he worked his hand. Ignoring the screaming pain in his side, he bowed his back and arched upward, his toes curling as his semen spurted onto his belly.
It was painful in its intensity. The most violent release of his life. Jesu, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. How much more incredible would it be if he was deep in her body or her mouth surrounded him?
The sound of water raining down alerted him to the fact that she was rising from the tub. He moaned and slowly worked the last vestiges of his release from his shaft before finally allowing his cock to fall limply to the side. He pulled his trews back over his groin, wincing as the material brushed over his sensitive flesh.
Keeley peeked her head around the side of the wood barrier. “Are you all right? I thought I heard you.”
“I’m well,” he croaked. “If you are finished, I’d like to wash as well. I’ll be careful not to wet my stitches.”
She frowned but didn’t argue. She disappeared behind the wood again and he heard the rustle of material as she finished drying and then dressed. A few minutes later, she reappeared, clad in a fresh dress, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. Her long hair lay in a damp trail down her back, resting just above the small of her back.
“While you bathe, I’ll dry my hair by the fire,” she said.
He started to push himself upward but caught his breath and remained still when his side protested.
She rushed forward, reaching for his arm. “Let me help you. Lean into me. Take hold of my waist and let me pull you until you can gain your footing.”
He needed no invitation to curl his arm around her waist and bury his face in the softness of her belly. He inhaled her clean scent, and the lingering smell of roses tantalized his nose. It was Mairin’s soap, but it had never enticed him as it did now on Keeley’s skin.
“Come now,” she urged in her sweet, husky voice.
He allowed her to pull him forward, but he held her so she didn’t stumble. His weight was far too much for her to bear on her own. When he turned so that his feet grazed the floor, he paused for a moment, gathering his strength to rise.
As soon as he stood, the room swam in circles and his knees threatened to buckle. It took everything he had not to go down in a heap. He also became aware of a most pressing need.
With a grimace he wrapped an arm around Keeley’s shoulders to steady himself.
“I have need of the chamber pot,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps ’twould be best if you stepped from the room a moment.” He had no desire to horrify her with his personal needs.
Her expression softened and she smiled up at him. “Who do you think has helped you accomplish your needs for the past days, warrior?”
Heat crept up his neck until he was sure he was blushing like a maiden.
“I’ll forget you said that.”
She laughed and slipped from underneath his arm. “Are you certain you’ll be all right? I’ll just be right outside. If you have need of me just holler. I’ll give you a moment to get into the tub and then I’ll return.”
Alaric nodded and watched as she walked to the door. Once there, she turned and gifted him with a shy smile that sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. Then she exited and closed the door behind her.
Feeling like an old, decrepit man, Alaric completed his business and then went about the task of easing into the tub. He found it easier to kneel on one knee instead of sitting all the way down. He never understood the pleasures of a bath. He much preferred a swim in the loch with his brothers. The basin seemed much too small for a man his size and it was awkward as hell to maneuver in.
Still, he managed to wash himself the best he could. When he was satisfied that he’d done an adequate job, he braced his palms on the sides of the tub and pushed upward with a grunt.
“Alaric?”
Keeley’s voice drifted through the wood barrier and he went still, a drying cloth in his hand.
“Aye.”
“Are you well? Do you need help?”
He was sorely tempted to tell her aye, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that underhanded.
“Look in my chest at the foot of the bed and bring me a clean pair of trews.”
A moment later she put her hand around the side of the barrier and held out his trews to him.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to get them on?” she asked doubtfully.
“I’ll manage.”
Several painful minutes later, he trudged around the side of the barrier, sure he was as white as a sheet. She took one look at him and immediately wrapped her arm around his waist, taking care not to touch his wound.
“You should have let me help you,” she chided. “You’re in pain.”
He eased onto the bed with her help and positioned himself on his back. His strength was flagging, but he held up his hand to her.
“Lie with me, Keeley. We both have need of rest. I’ll sleep better with you by my side.”
Her eyes glowed and her cheeks pinkened, but she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her down to the mattress.
“ ’Tis the truth I’m tired,” she whispered.
“Aye, you have every reason to be.”
He slid his hand up and down her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. Gradually she relaxed until she was limp and soft against him.
“Keeley?”
“Aye?” she asked sleepily.
“Thank you for giving me aid and for returning with my brothers to tend me.”
She was silent for a moment, and then she slipped her hand into his. “You’re welcome, warrior.”
CHAPTER 11
Keeley sighed and burrowed closer to the source of heat. She gave a lazy yawn and nearly purred at the large hand rubbing up and down her back. ’Twas a wondrous way to awaken.
Then she remembered that she was in bed with Alaric McCabe and it could only be his hand wandering aimlessly across her back.
She lifted her head and found him staring down at her. His hand moved up to her hair and he gently massaged her nape. She was hesitant to speak, to break the peaceful still that had invaded the chamber.
Soft light poured through the gap in the furs at the window, and the fire had once again died down to a bed of glowing embers.
Alaric was propped above her, his long hair streaming over his broad shoulders. He looked deliciously savage, but content as well. No pain darkened his gaze. Nay, something else entirely blazed in his depths. Something that made her itchy and warm inside and out.
She licked her lips nervously and his gaze darkened further, until the green of his eyes was a slim ring around the dilated black of his pupils. His mouth parted and his breaths came in uneven jerks. His hand tightened around her nape and before she could process the situation, he pulled her to him, bending his head to meet her lips.
It was a gentle kiss. Barely a brush across her tingling mouth, but how sweet it tasted. He came back again, this time pressing his mouth to the corner of hers. His tongue lapped out, warm and rough, dragging over the curve of her mouth and then running along the seam, demanding her lips to part.
Unable to deny him anything, she opened and allowed him entrance. He probed cautiously as if savoring the first meeting of their tongues. In a delicate dance, the tips dueled, withdrawing and then advancing more boldly, brushing over the other in a heady rasp.
“You taste so sweet,” Alaric whispered.
His voice sent shivers down her spine, but it also awakened her to what they were doing. She was lying in his bed, half sprawled atop him while he kissed her senseless.
And he was betrothed to another.
That last thought was as effective as dousing
“Keeley, what is it?”
She pried herself from his grasp and put space between them, though she was still perched on his bed.
“ ’Tis wrong,” she murmured. “You are betrothed to another.”
Alaric frowned. “Who told you of this?”
She frowned back. “ ’Tis no matter who told me. ’Tis what is true. You belong to another. It isn’t right for you to kiss me and hold me so.”
“I am not betrothed to her yet.”
Keeley sighed. “ ’Tis a rotten excuse and well you know it. Do you have plans not to marry her?”
Alaric’s lips thinned, but he shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis a marriage of necessity. A union needed to secure our alliance with the McDonalds.”
It shouldn’t hurt her to hear what she already knew. What was this man to her, after all? He was naught but someone who needed her aid. Nothing more. A few shared kisses did not a future make. Surely she didn’t fancy herself in love with him?
She shook her head to rid herself of such an absurd notion. Rionna was a laird’s daughter. Keeley was nothing. She had naught to bring to a marriage save herself. No connections. No dowry. Not even the support of her clan.
“Then ’tis the wrong woman you’re kissing,” she said lightly.
Alaric sighed and leaned his head back on his pillow. “You cannot expect me to ignore this attraction between us, Keeley. I couldn’t even if I wanted. ’Tis the strongest reaction I’ve ever had to a woman. I burn for you, lass.”
Keeley closed her eyes. Her throat tightened and she swallowed against the restriction. When she reopened them, she saw answering agony in Alaric’s gaze.
“Tell me, warrior. What happens to me?” she asked softly. “Am I to give myself to you only to watch you wed another? What becomes of me when you become laird of the McDonald clan?”
Alaric reached out to touch her cheek. “I would see you well cared for. You have to know that. I would do nothing to cause you shame or disgrace.”
She smiled faintly. Shame and disgrace were things she was well accustomed to. “If you care for me at all, you’ll not pursue whatever is between us.”
He looked as if he would argue, but she pressed her finger over his lips in gentle reproach.
“ ’Tis dawn now. We’ve slept the night away. I must see to your wound and call for a meal to break your fast. Then I must see your laird to determine my place in this keep.”
“He’ll see to your care,” Alaric said tightly. “If he doesn’t, he’ll answer to me.”
She let her hand fall away and then she busied herself inspecting the stitches on his side.
“The redness is almost gone,” she said. “A few more days’ rest and I’ll allow you out of bed as long as you don’t go back to fighting the moment your feet hit the floor.”
Her attempt at levity was wasted. Alaric still stared at her, his eyes bleak and full of regret. She looked away and then pushed herself from the bed.
She went to the window, and pushed aside the furs to allow fresh air and the morning sun in. For a moment she stood there, cursing fate and its inevitable grasp. She gripped the sill until her knuckles were white and faced sunrise with all the sadness and regret in her heart.
Her life—her future—had been determined by the actions of others. She’d sworn that never again would her fate be left up to others. But now, deciding her own had a decidedly unsatisfactory feeling.
She’d done what was right. She’d taken a stand to protect herself … from what? Unhappiness? Disgrace?
It should feel better. She alone decided the course of her fate. Instead, she was left with a hollow ache in her chest and a fleeting sense of unfulfilled desires.
She chanced another glance at Alaric to see his eyes closed, his head unmoved from his pillow. Aye, ’twas for the best. He could never be hers. If she agreed to an affair, it would only hurt her more to let him go. Better she never know the joys of his loving.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and crossed the chamber to the door. It was time to determine the rest of her destiny. Ewan McCabe had abducted the wrong person. He was going to tell her of his plans and offer some guarantees if she was going to remain for Lady McCabe’s birthing.
She left the room and nearly stumbled over Gannon who sat in the hallway, his head resting against the wall. He came to attention immediately and scrambled to his feet. Alaric hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that his man would remain outside in case he was needed.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Gannon inquired politely.
She shook her head. “Nay. Alaric is doing well. I’m going belowstairs to speak to the laird and to ask for a meal so that Alaric may break his fast.”
An uneasy expression flashed on Gannon’s face. “Perhaps it would be best if I went to the laird with any requests you have.”
She narrowed her gaze at the much bigger warrior. “I don’t think it’s best. If you want to help, you can go down to the kitchens and have a meal brought up to Alaric’s chamber. I’ll be with the laird if you need me.”
Not giving the warrior a chance to argue his point, she strode past him to the stairs and hurried down. Once in the great hall, she surveyed the interior curiously. There was a flurry of activity as women passed back and forth doing their duties.
Though she’d spoken bravely to Gannon, she had no idea where to seek out the laird. And she was nervous, despite her earlier bravado.
“Keeley! Is there something I can help you with?”
Keeley turned to see Maddie approaching from the kitchens.
“Where might I find the laird?”
Maddie frowned. “He’s out training with his men in the courtyard.”
Keeley smiled. “My thanks.”
As she turned to go, Maddie called after her, “The laird doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s training!”
“Aye, well I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m in my cottage asleep in my bed,” Keeley grumbled under her breath. That didn’t stop the laird from bursting in and spiriting her away.
She paused in the doorway leading to the courtyard and sucked in her breath at the sight of so many warriors, all engaged in sparring, swordplay, and archery. There were hundreds, and the sounds of their fighting nearly deafened her.
Holding her hands to her ears, she descended into the courtyard and warily skirted the perimeter looking for the laird. She stopped when a snowflake drifted by her nose and she looked up to see that it was indeed snowing. She hadn’t even noticed, so intent was she on finding the laird.
Shivering, she hunched her shoulders forward and resumed her search.
When she rounded the side of the wall of men, she came face-to-face with the laird and his brother, both of whom stood surveying their men’s progress.
Caelen’s scowl was instantaneous, but the laird wasn’t far behind once he caught sight of her.
“Is something amiss?” the laird demanded. “How does Alaric fare?”
“Alaric is well. His wound is healing and his fever has abated. I didn’t come to speak to you of Alaric.”
“I’m busy,” the laird said shortly. “Whatever it is can wait.”
He turned his back on her dismissively and Keeley’s blood boiled.
“Nay, Laird. It will not wait.” She stamped her foot for emphasis and made sure her voice could be heard above the din.
The laird stiffened and then turned slowly back to stare at her. Around them, activity ceased. Swords were lowered as the men stopped to look at Keeley.
“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously low voice.
Caelen stared at her in disbelief and then looked to his brother as if confirming that she’d dared argue with the laird.
She raised her chin, refusing to back down. Even if her knees were quaking abysmally. “I said it won’t wait.”
“Is that so? Tell me then. What’s so important that you would interrupt my men in training? You have all our attention now. Don’t be timid.”
“I’ve never been accused of being timid,” she said dryly. “And what is important is that I know of your plans for me. You’ve taken me from my home to care for your brother and you expect that I attend Lady McCabe at her time. I refuse to be treated as a prisoner. I would know my place in your clan.”
Ewan McCabe arched one eyebrow as he continued to stare at her. “Have you been treated with anything but respect thus far? I assure you, I don’t give my prisoners their own chamber nor do I give them leave to make requests of my serving staff. I have a dungeon where my prisoners are made welcome.”
She refused to be cowed by the sternness in his voice. She met his gaze and stiffened her spine. “I would know exactly my position here, Laird. So there is no misunderstanding at a later date. I’ve had to give up the only home and security I know. I’m used to living on my own and abiding by only my rules. I find I don’t obey the dictates of others so easily.”
Ewan’s expression darkened until she was sure he might explode. Then to her utter amazement he threw back his head and laughed. “Tell me, Keeley, have you been speaking to my wife? Did she put you up to this?”
Around him, his men began laughing. Even Caelen lost his scowl for the barest of moments.
She looked at them all in bewilderment. “Why would Lady McCabe have me talk to you? I haven’t seen her this morn.”
Ewan’s shoulders heaved in an exaggerated sigh. “Jesu, I’m cursed to have two women who insist on defying me at every turn.”
“Just remember it was your idea,” Caelen muttered.
Ewan raised his hand as laughter rose again from his ranks. Keeley viewed him anxiously. They seem to think it was all a jest. She was entirely serious, and it infuriated her that they could laugh when she’d been abducted and forced from her home—and worse, her independence.
Her face tight and teeth clenched, she whirled around and stalked back toward the keep. It crossed her mind that she wanted to go up to Alaric and unload her frustration and anger, but it would only cause dissention between him and his brothers. The last thing he needed right now was that.
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