King's Pawn [Highland Menage 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “Ye mean Roderick Graham?” asked Rory.

  She nodded. “I canna say that long name.”

  “Well, I dinna like him either, nor does my brother.”

  “Will ye marry Isabel, then, so Ro-dick canna have her?”

  “Aye, if King James will let us.”

  They tromped down the stairs again, wee Jenny flying before them with Mud and Dirt leading the way.

  “’Tis a wonder she doesna trip over the cats,” said Tearlach. He ducked to go into the kitchen.

  “I hope the women come soon. My belly’s rubbing against my backbone.”

  Light steps and the swish of fabric warned them to move from the doorway. A flash of green appeared by the floor. Rory followed it up to a trim waist, and… He gulped.

  “Jesu! She’s got—”

  Tearlach wrapped an arm around his neck and slapped the other hand over his mouth before he could say more.

  “The Lady Isabel’s got a pretty gown, aye?” Tearlach dropped his voice and gave Rory a squeeze. “Watch yer language around ladies. We’re nay in Duncladach.” He gave him a shake before releasing him.

  Isabel turning pink from the depths of her cleavage to her hairline was a sight to behold. And damn, if he didn’t want to be holding her! The light green gown went well with her brown hair and eyes. She seemed softer, almost hesitant. White flesh quivered with each breath. If she inhaled deeply would she spill out from the gown? Or if she bent over…

  “Isabel looks like a real lady now, aye?” Jenny, eyes wide as she took in the wonder, held her hands clasped behind her back as if afraid to touch.

  “She always was,” replied Janet. She put her arm around Isabel and drew her into the room. “Sit ye down so the lads can eat. They be hungry.”

  He sent a silent message to Tearlach and got a barely perceptible nod in return. They were hungry, all right. But he could go without food if he could taste Isabel.

  They ate well, plain fare but tasting far better than what was at Duncladach. He’d bring salt back from Stirling for his brothers. It improved the oatmeal, as did stirring so it didn’t burn and took out the lumps. He hadn’t realized how much better porridge could taste.

  “Isabel, the lads wish to see the hazel grove up the hill,” said Janet after they’d eaten. “Come, Jenny, help clear the table.”

  “Aye,” said Rory, jumping in before Tearlach could say otherwise. “Ye said ye grow shepherd crooks, my lady?”

  He’d not have to speak with Janet about Isabel. It was clear the older woman had the same plan, to give the lass a husband other than Graham. Isabel stared at Janet, who ignored her, piling the dishes.

  “Do ye need a cloth for Isabel to sit on so she doesna harm her gown while ye have a wee chat?” asked Janet. “My lady hasna had a day of rest in too long.” She motioned to Isabel. “Best to tie yer hair back. Use that ribband ye got from the peddler.”

  “Ye mean the herald, Janet?” Isabel’s words were sweet, but her eyes flashed fire. Her breasts heaved, straining the gown. Rory noted another advantage to getting her ire up. Tearlach placed his hand on Isabel’s.

  “We’ve been riding for days, my lady. Stretching our legs would be a treat. But if ye dinna wish to be with us…”

  “I will walk,” she replied, pulling her hand out from under his.

  They both rose when she stood. She hesitated, then left the kitchen, hurrying to the stairs.

  “Jenny, help Isabel tie that new ribband.” The young girl scampered out, followed by Mud and Dirt.

  “What’s this about, Janet Wilkie?” asked Tearlach. He crossed his arms, feet set wide as if to battle. Janet set her fists on her hips, ready to do the same.

  “Ye must save Isabel from Roderick. He will kill her. ’Twill look like an accident, but she’ll be no less dead. What will ye do to protect her from that?”

  “Thumbscrews were mentioned,” murmured Rory. “And a pit. A rather deep one, belonging to the king.”

  “My brother means we would risk the king’s displeasure to save the lady.”

  “Ye accept being tortured and tossed in prison to save my lady?”

  “Aye.” They spoke, and nodded, in unison.

  “Do ye lust after Calltuin, then?”

  “’Tis a bonny place, but Isabel would be welcomed at Duncladach,” declared Tearlach.

  “Bringin’ naught but herself?”

  Tearlach nodded. “A lass who can keep this place working is worth gold.”

  “We would wish to raise our bairns here, but we value the lady over the land,” added Rory.

  “Ye would take her virginity?”

  “Nay!” Tearlach released his arms, taking a step forward.

  Rory held up his hand. “We would take naught from Isabel,” he explained, turning on his charm. “We would, however, help her discover her woman’s joy. Repeatedly.” His cock thickened at the idea.

  Janet’s eyes narrowed further. “Would ye let her seduce ye?”

  “Let?” Tearlach snorted. “’Twould be best if she led the way. Does she ken how?”

  “We dinna live in a fine castle,” warned Janet. “Lady Isabel has listened to talk and seen things but she hasna been touched.”

  “Until my kiss. Which she enjoyed,” murmured Rory. He was ignored.

  “We ken ye care for the lass,” said Tearlach. “We’ve seen few decent women to judge by, but Isabel…” He shifted his feet. “I dinna ken why, but I have a need to care for her. Not just make her ours, but to give her all we have. ’Tisn’t much,” he added.

  Janet pursed her lips. She blinked. “Isabel is the child of my heart, if not my blood. I nursed her at my breast as my own wee babe and husband were gone. We took in wee Jenny, but…” She gave them a look that pleaded and threatened at the same time.

  “If Isabel becomes our wife she will still be yer daughter,” promised Tearlach. “Ye will be welcome to live with us at Duncladach, and wee Jenny as well.” He sighed heavily. “Ye ken she’ll be spoiled with many uncles all wishing to make her laugh.”

  “We shall let Isabel lead the way, if she chooses to,” promised Rory. He winked. “And if she needs a wee bit of help, ’twill be no hardship.”

  Janet puttered for a bit, obviously thinking. They gave her time. She turned to them, shoulders back.

  “I’ll be taking wee Jenny with me to the village. Ye’ll have Calltuin House to yerselves while ye are here.” A faint blush rose up her neck. “I’m handfasted with my man but we’ve not had a night together.” She measured them with her eyes. “He’s the village blacksmith with arms a wee bit bigger than yer own.”

  “A blacksmith would be welcome at Duncladach, and any of yer family ye wish to bring.” She eyed Tearlach as if she didn’t believe him. “Janet, Calltuin House could almost fit in Duncladach’s bailey with room to walk around it.”

  Her eyes widened. “It be that big?”

  “Aye, and empty but for our brothers. We could use good people to help us rebuild our clan. If yer man could bow to Laird Somerled MacDougal, ye’d be welcome.”

  “Well, then.” She gave an abrupt nod.

  “But dinna leave yer bed for us,” said Tearlach. “We’ll sleep well in the stable.”

  “’Tis for Isabel we be leaving,” she replied, hardening her voice. “There’s but one pallet at Calltuin House, thanks to Laird Graham takin’ all the rest. If ye do as ye ought, ye’ll be sleeping in it with the lass.”

  “Or keepin’ her awake?” asked Rory. He set this thumbs in his belt and leaned back, his meaning plain.

  “Just so.” Janet nodded briskly. “The hills be empty, so ye may wish a wee nap. If ye can find a brace of rabbits ’twould help for yer supper.” They heard Isabel and Jenny coming down the stairs. “Be off with ye.” She made a shooing motion.

  Rory stretched as soon as he escaped the kitchen. It was vaulted in stone and so low he felt he must duck his head unless standing in the middle. He walked with Tearlach to the stables for privacy.

  �
�What do ye think Janet will be telling Isabel?”

  Tearlach scratched the back of his head. He sighed and dropped his arm. “When a man thinks on finding hisself a wife, he doesna think the lass will be doing the seducing.”

  Rory looked down. His brother’s sporran wasn’t hanging straight. Neither was his own. Isabel had a certain effect on both of them, and they rose to the occasion.

  “Methinks she’ll need help seducing us. Luckily we are up for it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “’Twas kind of Janet and Jenny to send us out for a walk,” said Isabel.

  She knew it wasn’t kindness. Janet had made it very clear she must seduce the MacDougal brothers, men she’d just met, to escape Roderick’s clutches. It was scandalous and sinful. She couldn’t wait to put her hands on them.

  She was now in charge of her destiny. Or would be, if she could convince them to be seduced. She didn’t think it would be difficult. Janet had insisted she wear nothing under her dress. Her damp thighs rubbed with every step, arousing her with promises of pleasure. She lifted her skirts over the grass, flashing her bare feet, ankles, and even calves. She wasn’t sure if they looked at her feet. They seemed to have all their attention on her jiggling breasts. It was a strange feeling, having them shifting around. Strange, but arousing.

  Her chest and face felt flushed, and her pussy had never been so hot and damp. None of it was from the sun or the effort of climbing. Her nipples swelled, tingling, so she leaned forward, rubbing her forearms against them as if by accident. Rory groaned, a quiet sound that made her breath hitch. Tearlach shifted the rolled blanket from one arm to the other.

  “This is a good spot,” he said. He stopped, as did Rory.

  They were in a small clearing, a slight hollow surrounded by her beloved hazel trees in new leaf. She dropped her skirts and turned to them. They looked her in the eyes, surprising her, but it didn’t last. Rory’s eyes dropped to her chest. His ears reddened, and he looked up again. He shrugged his shoulders, his grin asking “what’s a lad to do when tempted?”

  Having never had a man interested in her until Roderick, and wanting nothing to do with him, Rory’s eagerness made her blood sing. He wasn’t the only one tempted. The brothers were tall, broad, and handsome. Though Rory looked ready to laugh he stood still. Tearlach stared at her impassively, his free hand held tight in a fist.

  “A good spot for what?” she asked, pretending innocence.

  Tearlach tossed the blanket on the ground like a challenge. She startled at the movement. His eyes, the brilliant blue of a rare clear winter sky, warmed.

  “For whatever my lady wishes,” he murmured.

  He bent over, spreading the blanket near a patch of wildflowers. The back of his plaid rode up his thighs. Thick, muscular legs that could support her easily. She licked her lips. Her future depended on her ability to seduce a pair of arousing men. Janet insisted they’d know what to do to help her if she gave them a lead.

  “Do ye wish to see the trees, or will ye give me another kiss?” she blurted. They stared at her. Her courage faltered. “Women canna ask for a kiss?”

  She thought she’d seen Rory smile. What he’d shown her before had been a mere slice. It was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds, making raindrops sparkle. Would those white teeth nibble on her? Janet said the twins looked like men who’d been hungry often and knew to take their time with a feast, nibbling and enjoying themselves.

  “Aye, women can ask for whatever they want. I wouldna say nay when ’tis what I wish as well,” said Rory.

  “Hold,” said Tearlach brusquely. He stepped between them. “’Tis my turn.” He bowed to her. “If ye dinna mind a wee kiss from me?”

  A sense of calm and control flowed from Tearlach, as if he was right with his world. That no matter what happened he would face it head-on and win, or die trying. She bit her lip. Now that the moment was here she wanted him to take over, at least for the kiss.

  “Would ye kiss me, Tearlach MacDougal?”

  “Aye, my lady, ’twould be a great pleasure.”

  One step and he towered over her. His scent wrapped around her, pulling her in. He touched her chin with one finger and tilted it up. His face was lined from squinting into the sun. She was sure she’d find some scars once she took the time to look. Perhaps not on his face but certainly under his clothes. He was a man, a warrior who would fight for her, to the death.

  He was so different from Roderick Graham. She shuddered in revulsion.

  “Ye cringe when ye look at me?” he whispered, pulling back.

  Startled, she met his eyes. They were shuttered. She’d caused that by allowing her thoughts to stray. She shook her head.

  “Nay. I was thinkin’ on how Roderick is blond, wealthy, handsome”—she curled her lip—“and as vile as slug slime.”

  He cocked his head. “Slug slime?”

  “’Tis the worst insult I could think of.” She quivered at his intensity. “’Twas afore I met ye, and…”

  “Having met me ye think of insults, yet ye wish me to kiss ye?”

  “Aye.” She nodded, hoping he’d understand. “Ye are a real man, a warrior. Compared to the two of ye he’s but a weak, puling manling, one who uses his fists on those weaker as he has no honor. He couldna beat ye though ye have one arm tied at yer back.”

  “Isabel?” He leaned even closer.

  “Aye?” she whispered, her mouth dry.

  “Hush and open for me.”

  A moment after they touched his arms surrounded her. Full lips pressed against her own. His tongue slipped between hers, and in. A tease, drifting under her top lip, and it was gone. She found herself grabbing his shirt, trying to pull herself closer.

  “Do ye wish for more, lass?”

  “Aye! ’Tis a kiss I wish for, not a tease.”

  He held her so snug she shook with his laugh. “Eager, are ye?”

  “Aye. Janet said MacDougals kenned how to give a lass pleasure. I wish to feel it.”

  A pair of hands grasped her arse. The deep chuckle came from behind her. “Aye, we do. But first we must remove yer pretty gown so it willna wrinkle.”

  Quick fingers pulled at her back laces. Her gown dipped in front. Rory’s hands slid inside and around to hold her breasts. Big, warm, callused hands that provided delightful friction. A deep groan filled her ears. He held his hands still for only a moment. Then they moved, molding her. Their harsh breaths filled her ears. She tingled, all over.

  “Hold them while I kiss the lady,” said Tearlach. “She may faint from pleasure of my lips, and we dinna wish her to fall.”

  Faint from pleasure? How could that be? Though Rory’s hands on her breasts did make her quiver. Tearlach tugged on her gown. Her nipples popped free. Both men groaned.

  “Like rosebuds, pink and full,” whispered Tearlach.

  Rory changed his grip, offering her breasts to his brother’s mouth. Would he kiss her there?

  He would, and did.

  Unlike Rory’s hands, Tearlach’s lips were soft. He kissed her left breast, a line of small steps from her side to the middle. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but experience a man’s touch for the first time. He slid his face to the right. Stubble on his chin gently rasped her tender skin. He stuck out his tongue and touched her nipple. She inhaled a gasp. He flicked the tip with his tongue. His eyes seemed to laugh at her.

  “Would ye like more?” he asked.

  “Oh, aye!”

  “I hoped ye’d say that.”

  His tongue lapped at her. It curled around and then flicked her nipple. She twitched and gasped. He lifted his head, growled, and went for her other breast. When he stood back, chest heaving, she was only standing because of Rory’s hands holding her ribs.

  “The gown comes off.”

  Tearlach placed his hands under her arms to hold her steady while Rory took care of her laces. When her gown dropped Tearlach lifted her into the air while Rory pulled it out and placed it over a smooth b
ranch. She stood in the sun, naked. Her breasts quivered as she inhaled. It felt glorious!

  “Yer turn to hold the lady,” said Rory. He dropped to his knees. Tearlach came from behind and held her the same way his twin had, by her breasts. Rory smiled up at her. His twinkling eyes suggested he had something new in mind. But then, everything was new.

  “Why are ye kneelin’?”

  Tearlach nipped her neck. She startled, and he kissed it better. “Ye started this, my lady, and now we take over. Trust that ye’ll like most of what we do.”

  Her breath hitched at the rough threat at his words. “Most? What of the rest?”

  “The rest ye will learn to like, in time.”

  “But I am the one seducing!”

  “Ye said it yerself, lass. I am a man. As is Rory.” Tearlach nipped the other side of her neck. “And men,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear, “give a lass pleasure. They do what they want, when they want, how they want. If ye become our wife, ye will be open to us whenever and however we wish.”

  It sounded like something the Church would call sinful. But then, anything enjoyable was sinful. She’d spent her life doing what she must. It was time to enjoy herself.

  “I dinna ken what ye mean. A wife is to obey her husband but methinks ye mean sommat more.”

  “Aye, we do.” Tearlach caught both nipples between his knuckles. “Ye’ll learn what it means to be pleasured. And how to pleasure us in return.”

  “I’ve seen the lads tupping the lasses on Beltane, though ’twas not much to see with them lying atween the woman’s legs. Once Bertha took a man against the wall, lifting her skirts for coin.” She looked down. Rory’s nose nuzzled the curls at the top of her thighs. He inhaled, his nostrils flaring. His nose felt very good.

  “I saw none do that,” she whispered.

  “They dinna ken how to pleasure a woman.”

  Tearlach released her breasts. After making sure she was steady he leaned down, grasped her from behind by the thighs, and lifted. She squeaked, falling back against him. Rory ducked between her knees so her thighs lay over his shoulders. Her pussy now lay in front of his nose. Tearlach gripped her breasts again, pulling her against his chest.