by Mary Wine
Deirdre knew whom Troy was calling. The other Douglas men looked at one other before turning their attention toward the back of the line where she sat. One of them snapped his fingers.
“He must mean ye. Everyone else here has a beard, lad.”
She kept her face down, but nodded and gently kicked the sides of her horse. The Douglas watched her move forward, some of them grumbling as she went.
“Troy needs men at his side. Must be that damn Cameron forcing him to only have a lad to guard his back.”
“The Earl of Liddell no doubt wants to keep us from bringing the wise woman up, so our laird will die…”
“Look, boy! If ye are all the laird will have, do a good job of it. Ye’re a Douglas… remember that.”
Except that she wasn’t a Douglas or a Cameron. Deirdre raised her face the moment she cleared the last Douglas retainer. She bit her lower lip to still its trembling. She was a pawn between powerful men, but the truth was, she was nothing if one side decided she was worthless.
Quinton might do that very thing.
Troy cursed as she drew closer. But the man turned toward Quinton.
“Now pull yer sword and tell me to retreat, but do nae be thinking I’ll ever hand over what ye want so easily again,” Troy declared.
Deirdre watched surprise flicker in Quinton’s eyes. She felt his gaze as surely as if he’d reached over and touched her. He muttered beneath his breath, “I will nae forget this.” His words were low and directed at Troy.
“I do nae want yer promises. Just get her out of here, and remember I did it because I will nae see another woman burned.”
Deirdre felt the blood drain from her face. Troy grunted and lifted a fist into the air. “Now make it look good, Cameron, because I do nae need me own kin pissed at me.”
Troy turned, and in spite of the distaste evident in his expression, he swung his fist at her head. He struck her against the side of her head, the force of the blow knocking her off the horse.
“Bitch!” He swore, loud enough for his men to hear. “I should have listened to me uncle when he told me ye were crafty in the ways of escaping! How the hell did ye get into me ranks?”
Deirdre hit the ground and rolled, out of instinct. Pain went through her shoulder, but she continued rolling, to clear the powerful hooves of the horses. When she staggered to her feet, Quinton had his sword leveled at Troy’s throat.
“What did ye think, Douglas? That any woman I’d care anything about would be easy to contain? She’s mine because she’s a true hellion!”
Deirdre heard horses approaching, and she was suddenly pulled off her feet by a grip on the back of her plaid. She landed across a saddle, her chest taking most of the impact as her nose was pressed against the yellow, orange, and black of a Cameron plaid.
“I’m taking my woman, Troy Douglas, and if ye want to live to see sunset, ye’ll stay off me trail, for I swear I’ll order ye all run through, down to the last man.”
Horses snorted, and men cursed, but she couldn’t see much of what was happening. The rider who had her turned his horse away from where Troy and Quinton were fighting. She bounced in a tangle of arms and legs for long moments before she was suddenly pulled up and deposited onto another horse.
“Wrap yer thighs around that saddle, lady, because we’re about to ride hard, unless I miss me guess.”
It was Coalan who spoke to her, and she realized she was surrounded by Cameron retainers. The horse was one of the spare ones that they always took in case of accidents when they rode out. She gasped when she looked back toward Quinton. His sword was the only thing between him and every Douglas who rode with Troy. They faced him with ugly snarls on their lips and hatred in their eyes.
“Fine… take the witch! Ye are welcome to her, but mark my words…ye’ll be dead as soon as she turns her evil against ye!”
Troy looked at her and spit. His men followed suit before he turned and rode away from them. Quinton hesitated only a moment, making sure that none of the Douglas had the notion to reverse course and try to put a blade through his back.
He turned and kicked his stallion into a full run. Coalan leaned over and grabbed her horse’s bridle, while he turned his own in the opposite direction. In a blur, the entire force of Cameron retainers all reversed. Coalan hadn’t been exaggerating either. They rode hard, leaning low over the necks of their mounts while the sound of pounding hooves rose to a near-deafening level.
Quinton didn’t ease the pace until they had put a great distance between the Douglas and themselves. Even so, he still pressed his men hard, and she struggled to stay in the saddle. The sun set, and still he did not stop them. He continued on until the towers of Drumdeer came into sight.
For a place from which she had made such an effort to escape, Deirdre found herself very happy to see it once again.
***
Quinton took her into the eagle tower himself. His hand was hooked onto her arm as he pulled her up the stairs without a single word. Holding back her temper became almost impossible, and only the quick pace he set kept her from blistering his ears where others might hear.
But that control shattered the moment he shoved in the door of the sleeping chamber.
“Get yer hand off me!” she snarled and flung her body into the room to break his grip. It worked, because he’d been pulling her and hadn’t expected her to pass him.
He shoved the door shut. “Mind that temper of yers, Deirdre, for I’ve had the devil’s time chasing ye.”
“No one forced ye to do so, and my father will certainly no’ be looking to ye to keep any contract between us.”
Quinton snarled, “What is between us is personal, hellion, and I am no’ finished with ye. Be very sure of that.”
Her temper deserted her, leaving her staring at him in confusion. Her emotions were suddenly a tangled mess she failed to understand. But one thought surfaced that did make sense.
“Ye had no right to announce I am yer mistress. That’s my choice to make.”
“It’s bloody mine too!” He was on her in a moment, his huge body moving faster than lightning. His touch burned like it too.
He grabbed the belt holding her kilt in place and released it. “I hate seeing ye wearing that bastard’s colors.”
The Douglas kilt puddled around her ankles, but that didn’t satisfy Quinton. “In fact, I hate seeing ye in anything I did nae give ye.”
“But that’s—” She let out a shriek as he gripped both sides of the collar of the shirt and tore the garment in half.
“That’s what I feel, and ye are nae the only one who has the right to speak their mind once we are closed inside this chamber, Deirdre. Ye’ll bloody well hear me feelings as well.”
He dropped the ruined sides of the shirt and sent his hands into her hair. The bonnet fell off, and he groaned before he buried his head in her hair. His hands cradled the back of her head while he inhaled deeply.
“I do nae ever want to see another man’s things on yer body, for I swear I wanted to strip ye the moment I saw that blasted Douglas plaid.”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply. He held her head in place while he pressed kisses against her neck and across her jawline until he claimed her mouth. Sensation flowed down her body, heat burning along her skin. Each kiss was like a brand, and she reached for him, unable to hold her hands away from him any longer.
His kiss was savage. He angled her head so that his mouth fit against hers. But that wasn’t enough for him or her. She opened her mouth, and he thrust his tongue deeply inside it. A moan surfaced from her and then another one. Her nipples hardened, and the fabric of his clothing irritated them. She longed to feel warm skin against hers. She clawed at him, seeking the ties holding his clothing closed. Frustration made her fight her way free of their kiss.
“I hate yer clothing as well,” she informed him. Her tone was bold and demanding, and she yanked on the tie that held his sword at his shoulder while she spoke.
He laughed, low
and deep. It was a dark sound, dangerous, but she enjoyed knowing exactly what sort of man he was. It was his nature that bred such heat inside her.
“I like the sound of that order.”
He pulled his clothing off as quickly as he’d shed hers. She quivered as he bared his flesh, and excitement flared through her. There was no thought in her mind except the need to be pressed against him once again. She reached down and yanked on the tie holding her boots closed while he smiled at her effort.
It was a hungry smile that promised her raw passion. The idea of it stole her breath. Her passage suddenly felt empty, and her clitoris throbbed for attention. He scooped her up before she finished with her boots, and carried her to the bed.
“Ye seem to be having a little difficulty with those boots.” He laid her down and pulled each boot off her while the bed supported her weight. But he paused once they had been tossed aside. He stood looking down at her, frowning.
She could see the hurt glittering in his eyes. She’d stung him by rejecting him.
“Ye wounded my pride too, Quinton.” She sat up and pulled the tie off the end of her braid. With her fingers, she freed the long strands of her hair. “But I am no’ too proud to admit I still cannae resist the temptation of lying with ye.”
He snorted before placing one knee on the bed. “We make a fine pair, Deirdre, for I cannae walk away from ye, and I would have given that bastard Douglas anything he asked for ye.”
He placed his hand on her breast, cupping it while his lips thinned and flames flickered in his eyes.
“Any goddamned thing he asked…” Quinton growled the words, his frustration clear. But he leaned down and captured the hard tip of her nipple between his lips.
Heat spiked down her body. She arched up, curling her hands into his hair as he sucked upon her. She’d never thought her nipples might be so sensitive. Pleasure flooded her, but it only fanned the flames of need burning inside her. She was impatient once more, almost frantic to have him inside of her. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around his to pull him toward her.
“Oh no, hellion… I plan to make sure ye have a good reason to stay with me…”
He hovered over her, his breath teasing her lips while the tip of his cock pressed against her open sex. But it was the look in his eyes that drew a whimper from her. There was no mercy, only hard promise in the blue orbs.
“I’m going to prove ye will never find another man who can satisfy ye as I can…”
He pushed her thighs wide, and she gasped with need, but he only pressed them wider, until her knees were up to her waist on either side of her body. He slid down her body until she felt the brush of his breath against her sex.
“What are ye doing?”
He stroked the insides of her thighs, sending delight up her body once more.
“Proving that I am yer master, Deirdre…”
His voice was rough again, but the word “master” drew a snarl from her.
“No one is my master—”
She sucked in her breath as he leaned down and sucked her sex. He closed his mouth on top of her folds, where her clitoris was sheltered between the delicate tissues. She cried out—there was too much sensation to contain inside her. His mouth felt like it might burn her, but she lifted her hips, because it was a torment she had to have more of. She was suddenly poised on the edge of climax but unable to tumble into the vortex.
“I will be yer master, hellion… have no doubt that ye might snarl at me, but yer flesh will always crave my touch.”
He thrust two thick fingers into her sheath with his words. Her body convulsed with the need to come, stalling her ability to refute his words. Instead she clawed at the bedding and growled at him, but her hips lifted for him, her body eager for the penetration.
“Most men will gladly let their partners suck them off, but they don’t bother to return the favor.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she sat partially up with the aid of her elbows. “Ye cannae mean…”
“I do,” he assured her.
He moved his fingers again, pumping them several times, and she fell back against the bed, unable to resist the need to lift her hips in unison. But her clitoris begged for the touch of his mouth once more. It was wicked—it must be—but she felt like the need might drive her insane. She felt his breath against her delicate folds first this time. A moan surfaced from her as every second felt like an hour.
“The idea is tantalizing… is it nae?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled, but she felt him lean down and capture her folds once more between his lips. The tip of his tongue slipped between the folds that shielded her clitoris. The first touch sent her jerking away from him. The sensation was white-hot, and she cried out, but it wasn’t quite enough to give her the release she was desperate for.
“No’ yet, lass… I’m going to enjoy listening to yer pleasure…”
He used his free hand to spread her sex open. Her clitoris was now completely exposed, and he growled with approval. She felt the soft vibrations of that sound as he applied his mouth to her flesh. Time stopped as she was caught in a storm of sensations, each one too intense to separate from the next. He toyed with her clitoris, using the tip of his tongue to rub it until she was snarling with the need to climax. But he refused her that release, switching at the last moment to sucking on her. All the while, he continued to probe her sheath with his fingers, his at pace lazy, denying her the friction she craved.
“Goddamn ye, Quinton! I cannae take any more…”
“Then have yer pleasure, lass… and know it’s my touch that gives it to ye…”
His words were savage and so hard she might have taken offense at another time. For the moment, it was exactly what she needed to hear, the solid determination to see her satisfied. He returned to her clitoris, sucking it harder than before, while his fingers finally worked at the pace she needed. Her spine arched and it felt tight enough to snap, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the shattering of the bubble of pleasure that had remained so maddeningly out of reach. It burned a path through her, making breathing impossible as she twisted and strained while it assaulted her.
“That is why ye belong to me, Deirdre. No man will ever enjoy making ye moan as much as I do.”
He covered her, his arms going around her body, but he didn’t thrust into her body. Instead he rolled over, stopping when his back was flat on the bed. He cupped her hips, holding her above his erect member before slowly lowering her onto it.
“Now prove ye are me match. Ride me.”
Anticipation lit his eyes. Power surged through her, a confidence she’d never expected to feel. Her knees were set on either side of his body, giving her a good position to control the pace.
He chuckled at her. “Ye like the sound of that, do ye nae?”
She lifted herself up until only the head of his member was still inside her, and then allowed her weight to take her back down. She leaned down and braced her hands on his chest, the position allowing her to rise and press down with more confidence.
“I do.”
He grinned at her, and she yelped when he smacked one side of her bottom.
“Then ride me, lass. Let’s see if ye can stay in the saddle when yer stallion begins to run free.”
“Watch me.”
He laughed and smacked the other side of her bottom. “That’s the idea. I’m going to enjoy the sight, I promise ye.”
He released her hips and cupped both of her breasts. But he was far from still. His hips thrust up every time that she plunged down, his member penetrating deeply with the aid of her body weight. The look of growing enjoyment on his face urged her to move faster. She wanted to push him to the same limits that he’d wrung from her. The need grew inside her, just as the desire for deeper satisfaction did. She was in control of the angle that his member entered her body, and she leaned farther forward to increase the amount of friction against her clitoris.
“So that’s how ye like
it… hard and fast…”
“As do ye,” she growled at him, hating the fact that he was in control enough to study her. He returned his hands to her hips, urging her back down the moment that she lifted off him.
“Ye may think ye want to control me, but the truth is…” He clamped her against him, his member deep inside her sheath, and flipped her onto her back. The bed shook, and she slapped at his shoulder.
“I wanted to stay in the saddle!”
“But ye also enjoy knowing I’ll take ye.”
He whispered his words against her ear, holding her neck with one hand while pinning her beneath him. His hips drove his cock into her with frantic motions while he kept the angle the same she’d had atop him.
“Ye need to know yer lover will satisfy ye. Admit it, Deirdre. Ye’ll never be content with any man who does no’ take ye.”
She couldn’t answer him, because her body was once more twisting and straining toward satisfying the need that was burning inside her belly. She felt his seed beginning to flood her and strained toward him in a final motion to unleash her own pleasure. Her thighs held him against her as her body shuddered along with his. Pleasure was so bright; it burned away everything else while it controlled her.
She ended up with Quinton sprawled on top of her. His chest labored as fast as hers to catch the breath they’d both lost. The bed creaked ominously before one of the ropes snapped, and they both fell through the frame to the floor.
The door burst inward; the men outside rushed in to investigate the crash.
Quinton laughed like a lunatic. He looked at her, assuring himself that the mattress had buffeted her fall before laughing louder.
“We need a better bed, lads!”
He reached through the frame and dragged his plaid over her before scooping her up in his arms.
“I know right where one is.”
He strode from the chamber without a care for the fact that he was bare arsed.
“I can walk, Quinton.”
He tilted his head but never slowed his pace. “Aye, but ye tend to take yerself places I’d rather ye did nae go. So I think I’ll keep ye for the moment.”
