by Mary Wine
And sometimes there was Bhaic.
Or maybe not.
She wasn’t really sure.
* * *
“It was only a little fever,” Ailis said firmly.
“As if I’d be willing to risk yer health because ye were fortunate,” Helen said, still standing in front of the chamber door.
“Ye were very fortunate,” Senga said softly from where she was changing the bed sheets with Elise. The young Robertson had been there when Ailis woke up, settling in with Helen.
Now that her head was clear, Ailis looked toward Senga. “Are ye sure ye wish to stay?”
Senga stopped and let Elise finish. “I’ve no home to go back to. The Gordons burned it and killed me father. Even if I were to rebuild it, how would I protect meself? Besides, I’ve no intention of arguing with the good Lord’s will. He sent me father’s enemies to rescue me. So, I think yer marriage is what he’s wanting.” She smiled. “I’ll prove meself to ye, mistress.”
Elise bit her lip, obviously realizing she’d lost her opportunity to secure a higher position in the household. Now, she was a chambermaid, holding stacks of fresh linens for Senga.
“I need fresh air.” Ailis was sick of looking out the window. “I am going for a walk.”
Helen grunted but moved aside. Ailis’s memory was cloudy, and she wasn’t even sure what day it was.
All the more reason to take a walk and get her blood flowing.
Ha! Ye’re running away because ye’re in yer husband’s chamber.
It was the truth. One she had no idea how to wrap her thoughts around.
But she’d woken up in Bhaic’s chamber, and that was a hard fact.
Finley was leaning against the wall with Skene. They both reached up and tugged on the corners of their bonnets when she opened the door. She offered them a soft smile as she started down the stairs.
“Here now… Mistress…wait for just a wee moment…” Finley cupped her elbow.
“I am very well,” she assured him.
He didn’t release her. “Well now, I can nae be having yer husband thinking I let ye take a tumble.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Skene tugged on his cap as he hurried off somewhere. Finley fell into step behind her, but it felt as though he was hovering. People looked up as she passed. The day was half gone, and the scent of baking bread came down the passageway from the kitchens.
Had she really slept so late?
She moved through the great hall, drawn toward the door by the sunlight. Two more retainers fell in with Finley.
“I do nae need to be taking up yer time,” she assured them.
They tugged on their caps but made no move to leave. She was torn between them and the sunlight.
Freedom won.
She made it out the door and sighed. The yard was full of activity, and it felt as if she’d been locked away from it all. Her brain seemed to be working slower than normal, but she could feel the stiffness leaving her joints.
A horse came through the gate, Bhaic leaning low over its neck. He pulled up at the base of the steps and swung his leg over the horse’s head before sliding to the ground.
He was up the steps in a flash.
“Should ye be up, lass?” There was concern in his eyes that confused her.
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
He studied her for a long moment. “Because ye’ve been fighting a fever for the better part of two weeks.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it had been…well, I’m quite well.”
He flashed her a smile and slid an arm around her waist. She felt his breath brush her ear as he tilted his head close to hers. “Ye’re shaking.”
She was.
But she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “I just wanted to stretch me legs.”
Bhaic’s expression softened, a hint of compassion flickering in his blue eyes. “I’ve something I wanted to show ye.”
He guided her down the steps and lifted her up to the saddle. He mounted behind her and pulled her against his body. He looked back at her escort. “Taking her up to the stables.”
Finley nodded before Bhaic turned his stallion and sent it toward the gate. She was suddenly surrounded by him, shivering as he enclosed her with his embrace.
The stallion carried them easily beyond the walls of the castle and up toward the stable. He slid from the saddle first, reaching back up to help her down.
“I’m not delicate.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “I do nae want to argue with ye, but ye look as though a stiff wind might blow ye over.”
“It was only a little fever.”
He looked at her as if she’d gone simple. “Do ye remember yer father coming to see ye?”
“Me father?”
Bhaic chuckled softly and reached up to tap his jaw, where she noticed a dark bruise.
“How could me father land a blow on ye?” she scoffed.
“I let him.”
“Oh,” she said softly, completely at a loss for words. “But why?”
She’d stopped next to a stall and realized her knees were weak. She leaned on the railing as a young lad took the stallion.
“It was me failing that allowed ye to end up fighting for yer life.”
She tried to think. “I just went for a ride to clear me thoughts…oh…someone shot at me.” The memory rose up from what seemed like a long passage of time she couldn’t recall. But bits and pieces were starting to take shape. They were flashing through her memory, startling her as though she were experiencing them for the first time.
Bhaic nodded. “At yer colors, Ailis. The man thought ye were raiding.”
She looked down at her arisaid. “Oh, I suppose…well…”
“Aye. It’s something more than one man would think in the predawn light.”
She looked back at his jaw. “Ye shouldn’t have let me father hit ye.” She reached out and touched the dark spot.
Touching him dusted off another memory, and another and another. “Did ye…were ye there with me? I recall ye.”
“Of course I was. Every night.”
She pulled her hand back, but he caught it, folding his fingers around hers. The touch was strangely intimate and surprisingly familiar. She stared at their fingers. “Ye were. But why?”
He kissed the back of her hand. “I did nae send ye from me bed, Ailis, and we’re going to be discussing things when ye’re a bit stronger. On that, ye can count. But no’ just now.”
He pointed out one of the wide doorways. She followed him outside and smiled at the young colt playing in the sunlight next to his mother.
“I would have brought ye up a bit sooner if fate were nae having such a fine time toying with us.”
“So this is the fellow who interrupted us.”
He was a black colt. His coat shimmered in the morning light, his eyes glittering with spirit. He would dance away from his mother’s side, kicking at the air before returning when she snorted at him. Someday, he’d be a powerful stallion, worth a fortune if he could be trained to take a rider. She avoided using the word “broken,” because there was something in the colt’s eyes that told her he was far more valuable with his spirit intact.
Bhaic took her to the rail of the corral, and she sat down. “Aye. I plan to remind him in a few years when he spies himself a pretty mare and I tell him she’s no’ ready for him. But I’ll likely end up commiserating with him, for I know the frustration of waiting out a lass.”
She reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye had to wait an entire week to have me. What suffering ye have endured.”
“Ye think that’s all I’m waiting for?” He clicked his tongue. “There’s more to a good marriage than passion, but I’m no’ co
mplaining about the fact that ye can nae keep yer hands off me.”
He flashed her a grin, and she discovered her cheeks heating. They might have been anyone. In that moment, there was only the warm spring day, the scent of growing crops all around them, and the twisting in her belly as she looked at Bhaic. He was watching her, his gaze full of hunger. It shifted to her mouth, making her breath catch. He leaned toward her, his breath teasing her lips.
Finley’s voice intruded. “There they are.”
Bhaic grunted. “I always thought getting married would end the need to sneak off into the shadows with a lass.”
“Can nae ye tell them to simply go away?” she asked as she blushed. “I thought it was only a matter of us…um…”
“Making things official?” he teased her.
She nodded, certain her cheeks had never been so red. Bhaic noticed, reaching out to tap one of her crimson cheekbones.
“Do nae enjoy yerself so much,” she warned him.
His grin grew until his teeth were flashing. “I plan to enjoy meself quite a bit with ye and make sure ye like it too.”
“Well no’ at the moment, it would seem.” She looked over to where Finley was leaning against the side of the barn. He was looking off to the side but keeping them in his sight.
“Aye. Ye may thank me father for them this time.”
“I thought it was Marcus setting them on me heels,” she said. “Is nae he now satisfied that I am no’ planning to take secrets back to me father?”
“Aye,” Bhaic answered. “But now yer father made me father swear ye would nae be at risk.”
Her jaw dropped. “Me father…made…yer father?”
Bhaic nodded once, obviously suffering from injured pride. “No’ that I was nae planning on taking ye in hand.”
“What do ye mean ‘in hand’?”
He grunted and stood up. “This is no’ the time.”
“It is indeed a fine time,” she argued.
“Ailis,” he warned her in a low tone.
“Do nae sound like yer brother.” She stood up to face him, actually poking him in the chest with her finger. “Ye’ll be telling me what ye want from me now. I’ve had quite enough of worrying over ye and me circumstances.”
Something flashed through his eyes before he leaned over and tossed her right over his shoulder.
Her belly twisted, and she realized it was with excitement.
Well, what’s the matter with that? He’s yer husband, isn’t he?
She was giggling when he let her down in another stall freshly made with a bed of sweet-smelling hay.
“A much better place to be telling ye what I want from ye, lass,” Bhaic informed her. He was big and imposing, just like the first time she’d seen him. Sensation rippled across her skin, but this time, she knew anticipation when she felt it.
Aye, “anticipation” was the right word.
She was nervous, twisting her hands as she tried to decide what to do. She felt the buckle of her belt and unfastened it. She pulled her arisaid free and shook it out so that it lay on the straw.
He pulled off his sword belt and left it hanging on the stall post. He reached out and cupped the top of her breast. “Ye enjoy me taking ye in hand…”
“Sometimes…”
He leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She hadn’t realized how starved she was for it. The memory of her tumbling in the river returned, bringing with it a need to live.
No, a desperation to survive.
She kissed him back. Opening her lips and thrusting her tongue up into his mouth. Her passage ached, too empty to endure. She needed him. Needed him to fill her. Fill her with life.
And she wanted him right now.
He was pulling on her laces, opening the front of her dress until he could get at her. He scooped her up and cradled her on the way to the ground. Coming down to nuzzle against her breasts.
“I’ll make sure that ye like it every time, lass, I swear that to ye.”
The husky promise made her twist with anticipation. He kissed his way across one plump mound until he captured the puckered tip between his lips. She gasped, feeling as though his mouth burned.
But it was a sweet agony. One she wanted more of. She plunged her hands into his hair and held him in place. He suddenly lifted away from her.
“Does it hurt? Yer back?”
She’d been sinking into a vortex of heat and had to blink before his words made sense. “Why should it?”
“Because the bullet tore across yer shoulders. The healer had to stitch it.”
He lifted her and rolled over so she was sitting on top of him. He grinned, reaching up and cradling her breasts in his hands.
“It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve half a mind to tell ye otherwise.” Her knees were on either side of his hips. She should have felt awkward, but a sense of control was sweeping through her, filling her with a confidence she’d never suspected she might feel. He was hard, his member a solid presence beneath the thin layers of his kilt.
His expression became hungry. “Like being in the saddle, do ye?”
“Possibly.” She lifted herself up and settled back down to see what it felt like. “But I’m fairly certain I haven’t successfully mounted ye just yet.”
She rose up again and made sure her skirts were out of the way. Bhaic grabbed handfuls of the fabric and tossed it up so her thighs were bared. He gripped the bare skin above her garters, his expression tightening with hunger.
The sight sent confidence roaring through her. She’d never felt so much in control, so much a match for anyone.
She lifted off him again, and this time, he yanked his kilt up. His member sprang up, and he held it steady as she lowered herself onto it.
“Now, let’s see if ye can stay in the saddle.”
She’d started to close her eyes, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. But his words were edged in challenge, and she opened her eyes and considered him.
“I’m a Robertson.”
“Ye are indeed.” He reached around and cupped her bottom. “But ye are also mine.”
He lifted her and thrust up into her. She gasped, reeling in a wave of sensation before she tried to regain control. It became a battle, Ailis trying to set the pace while he met every downward thrust and held her bottom in place so he might impale her. Frustration grew inside her at the same pace that the need to surrender to him did.
Sweat beaded on her skin, her heart pounding frantically as she tried to hold back the building explosion until she’d pushed him to the same extreme. But he wasn’t going to let her. He suddenly released her bottom, letting gravity slam her onto his length as he slid his hand across her belly and found the little pearl at the top of her sex. He fingered it, pressing hard on it as she rose and fell on him again. She was fighting back her climax, riding him hard as she tried to push him into one as well.
But she was losing her grip, her body refusing to obey. Pleasure spiked through her, twisting her as it exploded beneath his fingers. Her passage contracted, gripping his flesh as she cried out. He sat up, taking control as he flipped her over onto her knees and started hammering into her.
She ended up braced on her elbows, Bhaic gripping her hips as he took her. It was the hard possession she’d craved, setting off another, deeper wave of satisfaction. It was too intense to contain, her cry echoing inside the stall.
Bhaic growled a moment before his seed began to flood her. He pumped himself against her a few final times before they ended up in a heap of quivering limbs. Somehow he rolled over and pulled her with him, pressing her head onto his chest as they lay there, trying to recover.
Ailis didn’t really care if they ever did.
In those moments, she didn’t have any doubts. She was floating on a wave of satisfacti
on and could feel Bhaic quivering with the same feeling. The circumstances of their forced union were finally irrelevant. What mattered was the way they took each other into ecstasy.
Somewhere in the distance, Finley laughed. Bhaic smoothed a hand over her shoulder before moving to right his clothing. She found the ends of the tie threaded through her chemise neckline and tugged it tight again.
But she froze when she realized Bhaic was watching her.
“Do nae begrudge me yer private moments, lass.” He was sitting in the straw, one knee raised and his arm resting on it.
Her fingers were clumsy as she worked the lace through the eyelets on the front of her bodice. She tugged them tight, suffering from embarrassment when she had to adjust her breasts with him watching.
“Becoming yer maid suddenly has merit.”
His gaze dropped to the Robertson plaid spread out beneath them. “Yer colors…”
He stood up and lifted her to her feet. She reached back down for the length of wool, but stopped when she realized there was a hole torn through the fabric. It was large, and the edges charred.
“Ye can nae wear them.”
He pulled the fabric from the floor and held it over his arm.
“Haddox will no’ be the only one who sees these colors and thinks we’re being raided.”
It seemed she wasn’t finished settling in. His words were logical, the charred hole lending weight to his argument. She offered him a single nod and turned toward the stall doorway.
Bhaic pulled her back. “I’m sorry, Ailis. I know what I’m asking of ye.”
He did.
She witnessed the proof of it in his eyes. The sight touched something inside her, some need she wasn’t able to define. It felt as if he might be able to fill it, if she were willing to surrender completely to him.
Of course, it would be an unconditional surrender.
But then again, she doubted a MacPherson knew any other way.
Or that she could bend so very completely without snapping.
“I think I’d like to bathe.” It was an excuse. A place to hide while she sorted out her thoughts. He knew it too. His expression tightened, but he let her remain silent as he took her back to the castle.
