by Bambi Lynn
She silently praised the convenience of his clothing, but all thought was driven from her brain when he entered her. Pure ecstasy flooded her. She let out a soft sigh as he buried himself inside her. She clasped her ankles around his waist, holding him to her.
Ty dropped his head between his shoulders, his mane a shroud around them hiding them from the world. He pressed his forehead to hers. Kenna still dared not open her eyes. She held him, savored the feel of him, so much different than before. There was no pain, no fear, no humiliation. Only tenderness and longing.
And exquisite pleasure.
She let her head fall back when he began to move inside her, drawing the length from her, sucking out his essence, before plunging to the hilt yet again. Each time he filled her, Kenna opened her mouth to cry out. But each time she bit back her shameless display of wanton abandon.
He emptied into her just as her own world exploded. Kenna wrapped her arms around his chest, her face pressed into the crevice of his bulging muscles, holding on until they were both spent.
Too soon, cold set in. Kenna shivered as he stepped away from her. He pulled her skirt down and readjusted her clothing about her shoulders. She kept her eyes down, but she could not resist a peek when he refitted his kilt.
Nothing about this man repelled her. When she should be disgusted by his proximity, she longed for the comfort and safety of his arms. Where his vile touch should make her cringe, she tingled whenever he came near.
She watched his hands, fascinated at the way they fumbled with his sash. His fingers were strong, yet they made her skin spark and crawl in a pleasant way. His touch was possessive, yet gentle beyond reproach, as if he took pains to thwart her unease.
It was no mystery to Kenna that a man's countenance, his demeanor could grow over his life. That he could soften. Perhaps he had even found God.
But could a man change so much?
She could not stop herself from trying to peer beneath his plaid. She tried to recall the memories she had worked so hard to block out over the past five years. Her determination had paid off. She could hardly remember any details about her husband's physical appearance. Still, Ty Vass was hiding a lot more beneath his kilt that the man who had marched off to France.
What did they feed men in France that could make them…grow like that?
Chapter Three
Ty watched his wife scurry around the room, tidying up the floor and driving dust balls into a pan. The past few days had been bliss for him. Since that day in the cottage, she had relaxed somewhat. She was not completely at ease, yet neither did she seem like she would flit away at the slightest disturbance.
Except when they were in this room.
Even if he was not touching her, he could feel her tense whenever she entered, and she was as wary as a trapped bird while she was there. Their love-making was not the passionate tumble of that day. Instead, her demeanor was that of someone standing on the edge of a cliff, preparing to jump to their doom. Again he wondered what her husband had done to her and wished the man were alive so he could kill him.
His wife had come to mean a lot to him since his return. His wife. Ty smiled. He love the way that felt on his lips. So much more than the comely wench he had expected to find. Her biting sarcasm could cut a man off at the knees. He had seen her get more work out of his soldiers than he had witnessed from them during months of living rough in France. But there was no mistaking the succor she gave to his people. She could comfort a crying child, lend support to a grieving widow and manage his household staff with little more than a word and an appropriate expression. She lightened the mood whenever she came around. Her sense of humor had even piqued old Angus the pig farmer. It was reported he never so much as cracked a smile except for the laird's wife.
His heart softened as he watched her. Ye need never fear another man, a ghrá, not as long as I draw breath. It shocked him at times, how much he cared for her, how much he wanted to please her. He flushed each time she smiled, even though her face had yet to light up on his account. He vowed to change that.
"There seems a mighty draft in this room. D' ye feel it?"
She turned startled eyes to him. "A draft?" She glanced around, her lip turned up slightly as she surveyed the room. "Shall I add wood to the fire?"
He shrugged and continued dressing. "I would prefer another room, I think. One not so isolated from the rest of the castle." He watched closely for her reaction.
At first she gave none. Was her surprise so great? Her shoulders slumped a little and the worry lines etching her beautiful face softened. "A different room?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
He pulled on his boots and stomped them on the floor, driving down his heel and cramming his toes deeper inside. He winced at the pain. He had to have new boots made.
"Unless you prefer this one. It does give us much privacy." He waggled his brows at her but failed to illicit the light-hearted response he had hoped for.
She shook her head vigorously. "Not at all. The old solar is almost never used. Mrs. Dingwell stores linens in there, I believe. It would make a lovely chamber for the laird of the castle. Should I have Mrs. Dingwell start fixing it up for you?"
Her excitement grew as she talked. Ty was glad. Perhaps once they were settled in the new room she would relax a little, let down her defenses and release the passionate woman he knew she held in check. He gave her his most seductive smile and crossed the room to her.
Taking her in his arms he kissed her long and hard. He could not get enough of kissing her. The feel of her lips. The sweet taste of her, like honey dripping of a slice of freshly baked bread.
He was pleased that she returned his kiss with something akin to desire. It was the first time she had shown such enthusiasm since they day they visited the dilapidated cottage. He made a mental note to seek out other things that would please her.
He pulled away reluctantly. "I cannot linger, a ghrá. I promised Angus I see to the building of a new pig sty. I look forward to spending this night in our new room. You will see to the details?" She nodded up at him, her mouth turning up at one corner in a half-smile that made his heart melt.
He had to leave before he tossed reason to the wind and spent the remainder of the day in bed with her. Old Angus could wait. He appeased himself with thoughts of coming home to her, his wife, and sleeping with her nestled in his arms, wrapped in the bed clothes beneath the roof of their new room. One they would share. It would be the beginning of a new life for them.
As happened every time he let himself imagine the happiness they would share, worrisome thoughts of his father and his plan to become laird of Clan Munro seeped into his musings. How was he going to save Kenna's family and prevent an all-out war? The gathering was little more than a fortnight away. He was running out of time and thus far, no suitable plan had come to him.
Other than slipping away and killing the old man under the darkness of night. But even that would be blamed on the Clearys. He needed to come up with a plan to redirect his father from his diabolical scheme. If his sister was to marry the Munro's son, her offspring would become laird. Somehow, Ty had to convince his father to be satisfied that his own grandson would one day be laird of Clan Munro. Ty's children would rise high among the ranks of clan Mackintosh, as well, thanks to Kenna's lineage.
And best of all, there would be peace between the clans for the first time in living memory.
Ty shook his head. Solutions were abundant but no path was forth-coming. It gave him a headache to think about it. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I look forward to sleeping," he kissed her lips, "or not sleeping," he winked at her, "in the love-nest you will create for us this day." She blushed all the way to the tips of her ears, making him laugh as he limped across the floor.
Just as he reached the door, he turned back at a muffled sound from her. She watched him, arms crossed, her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek, suspicion and doubt riddling her features.
"Leg botherin' ye, m'laird?
Or did ye're boots shrink while ye were away?"
***
Kenna stretch like a cat waking from a nap, tangling herself among the rumpled bedclothes and refusing to open her eyes. If she kept them closed a little longer, she could pretend she did not have so much work to do. Perhaps Mrs. Dingwell would allow her to stay abed.
She reached over, disappointed to find her husband already gone. He had said he would rise early to help the men with the new gate house. She was surprised the disturbance did not wake her. She was a light sleeper most nights, but she supposed after their exuberant bedplay the night before…
Kenna buried her face in her pillow. She should be embarrassed by her wanton enthusiasm. Since Ty had moved out of his old room a sennight ago, she had held little in reserve, showing more and more fervor each night they spent together. Her relief at being out of his chamber of horror was that liberating. He had even gone so far as the seal up the corridor that led to it. She had been touched by his efforts. She still did not trust him, but for the first time in five years, she could envision a happy future, not one filled with dread.
She pulled his pillow against her chest, inhaling his scent. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, giving her a little thrill. She wished he had slept in this morning, as well.
What an odd thought. A week ago she considered killing her husband with her own hand. Now she actually longed for his company, anticipating the time they would spend together at the end of the day. He would come in from whatever project he had been working on, seeking her out immediately before hunting down his wayward daughter, who was never where she was supposed to be. Thank God for Mrs. Dingwell. Otherwise Isla might be lost and never seen or heard from again.
Aye, things had certainly changed at Vass Castle. The people were so much more relaxed, she and Mrs. Dingwell had to keep after everyone to see that all the work was done. And there was so much to do. There had not been a gathering in years, and nothing in the way of fun at Vass Castle since…well, ever.
Add to that the fact that this would be the first gathering of Clan Munro that included members of Clan Mackintosh. Everyone was so excited, it was hard to get any work out of them at all. Again she realized how much she relied on Mrs. Dingwell. The woman could light a fire under the laziest youth or the most stubborn old man. The woman knew how to get people moving.
Kenna groaned and hugged Ty's pillow tighter. The housekeeper would be lighting her fire if she did not get up and put herself to work. Still…if she could allow herself a few more minutes….
…a few more minutes to think about her husband. Her husband. She wondered again how a man could change so much. The only similarity was his appearance. Yet even that was vague at times. The patch he wore over his eye hid much of his face making it difficult to recall the evil visage of the man who had stood next to her at her marriage. Her relief at finding Ty Vass a virile young man, his appearance more than pleasant, had been quickly shattered by his brutal treatment of her on their wedding night.
His stature was the same. His hair, night-black waves that fell in a sheet down his back, was also unchanged. The size of his man part was definitely bigger. Did a man continue to grow after reaching adulthood? Kenna could not say, but perhaps it was possible. He had had to commission new boots because the only ones he had that fit were the ones he had worn on the journey home.
No, there was something more, something he was hiding from her. He was different on the inside. He showed genuine concern for everyone, always greeting his vassals with a kind word, a complement or praise for a job well done. He took time to laugh with the children, or teach the young lads the ways of men, demonstrating a technique with the sword or the best way to handle a horse. He teased Mrs. Dingwell so much she now blushed whenever he entered the room. His easy way with Isla, his ready smile, warmed Kenna's heart.
What had happened to him while he was in France? Had the horrors of war made him recognize his own brutality? Had he faced death and vowed to change his ways if God spared him? Unlikely. Mayhap he had met a woman.
The thought of her husband with another woman ignited a different kind of fire within her. Fury, rage, and she was surprised to admit, jealously. Emotions she would never have expected to feel over the infidelity of Ty Vass.
Could this man be an imposter?
Her eyes shot open. Could that be it? She thought harder, trying to narrow her suspicion. The patch over his eye…she tried to recall if she had seen him without it since his return. He kept it firmly in place at all times, except when he slept. Even then, he did not take it off until all the candles had been extinguished and the room was bathed in darkness.
She needed a trap. She immediately questioned that idea. If the man who shared her bed was truly an imposter, did she really want to know? There was no doubt that she was better off, everyone was. Could God have answered her prayers and smote her husband on the battlefield, sending her a guardian angel to take his place? If He did, who was she to question His will?
Would her own curiosity allow her to ignore her suspicions? Doubtful.
Kenna rose with new determination. Tossing back the covers, she padded naked across to the window and opened the shutters. Morning light streamed in along with a chilly breeze. She grabbed a robe and pulled it around her shoulders then, leaning against the window embrasure, she searched the courtyard for the distinct form of her husband.
When she spotted him, her heart tripped. He had to be an imposter, for she had never felt about her husband the way she felt about this man.
***
Two days before guests were expected to start arriving, Ty finished the gate house. He stood with his men, surveying the work. He noted the workmanship, the refinements they had made. He issued praise where it was justified and noted possible problems they would need to keep an eye on.
But his thoughts were elsewhere. He had not seen Kenna even though it was already past noon. Today was his wife’s birthday, and he had a special surprise for her.
The final inspection complete at last, he rushed back to the keep. Mrs. Dingwell had promised to have him a bath waiting, so he wasted no time getting into it before the water grew cold. A hot bath was one luxury he took advantage of every chance he got. As a child living on the streets of Edinburgh, he seldom had a bath at all, much less a hot one. He had first discovered the pleasure of heated water at a brothel outside Paris and vowed to never take a cold one again.
He smiled at the steaming tub as he pushed open the door to his chamber. He stripped naked, leaving a trail of discarded laundry, and stepped into the warm water. He slid below the surface with a contented sigh. He noted the basket of provisions, another gift from Mrs. Dingwell. Bless her. This was going to be a glorious day.
Half an hour later, his day got even better. Kenna walked into the room, filling the space with her presence and stirring the beast in his gut despite the dropping temperature of the water. He was glad his cock was submerged as he was still wary of frightening her, and she seem particularly guarded when it came to his size. He and Ty Vass had been alike in so many other ways. Was their endowment so different?
"We missed you at table, m'laird," she said as she set clean linens on the bed.
He took the drying cloth she handed him and stood. "Aye. The gate house needed a final inspection and now there is even more business to attend. No time for luxuries like eating," he joked.
"Are you off then?"
A prickle of pleasure skittered up the back of his neck at her seeming disappointment. The very idea that she missed him when he was gone warmed him from the inside out. No one had ever missed him. He nodded and pulled her against his damp, naked skin.
Kenna stepped into his arms without hesitation. How far she had come since his return little more than a fortnight ago. There was still a small part of herself she held in check, and she watched him with an air of mistrust a blind man could see. But the fear was gone from her warm brown eyes. When he touched her, she trembled from desire instead of the terro
r she had shown in the beginning.
Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he eased her away and reached for his discarded kilt. "There are some things I need to take care of in one of the outlying villages. Will you accompany me?"
She look startled. "I…there is much still to do before the guests start to arrive. How long will you be gone?"
"We shall be back by supper tomorrow. Mrs. Dingwell can see to the preparations until then."
She smoothed her hair and glanced around. "I would have to gather some…and change my clothes."
Ty finished dressing and picked up the basket Mrs. Dingwell had left for him. "Yer clothes are fine, a ghrá. Ye're as lovely as a lassie on Bealltainn." He smiled when she blushed. He pulled her cloak from the peg on the wall and, handing her the basket to hold, placed it around her shoulders. He took the basket back from her, grinned at her expression of confusion and held his arm out toward the door. "Shall we?"
***
It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the cottage. The door was nearly impossible to find amidst the overgrowth, even to one who knew where it was. Ty halted his stallion nearby and helped Kenna down from her own horse.
She eyed him with the suspicion that had been growing steadily since they passed the first village. She had made no comment as they skirted the ramshackle huts, but her cheery prattle had diminished considerably. By the time they passed the second, she had clammed up like a mute and said nary a word. Since leaving the third village behind them, she had made no effort to hide her uncertainty.
Ty would have found her wariness endearing had he not known the source, but at least she did not cower from him in fear. The hate and loathing she had shown at his homecoming was gone, leaving only doubt and caution. He could not be more proud than to have a wife of such strength as Kenna Cleary Vass.
She stood there, looking back and forth from him to the hidden door. "What are we doing here?"
