“Ten and six men? They’ll need more than that.”
“But wit’ a divorce, Grant will plead to the king to bestow the lands to him as an appeasement fae yer abandonment.”
“You think she is plotting such a thing?” His arms dropped. Did he hate Brenna because she was his wife? It seemed likely.
“Na her. Her father cod. Since ye were a wee lad, ye dinna ken that Laird Grant petitioned fae the land to be granted to him since it came frae his wife—dead wife, aye, but his wife nonetheless. He believes he shod ha’e been granted all that came wit’ it.”
“And the king disagreed.”
Tavish nodded. “He felt Grant codna hold the land an’ his English ties unsettled him mae dan anything else.”
“A great deal of Scots have English ties.”
“The king doesn’t want any more English ties. Bad enough he wed the Sassenach king’s daughter.”
“You believe I can’t deal with him or other issues facing this clan.”
“Caelen, I dinna like ye but I ken ye can defend this clan. Men fear ye but respect ye…” He lifted a shoulder, letting the unspoken denial hang in the air. “Ye lack the skills to lead so stop fighting wit us an’ listen an’ learn.”
“The council wants me to take orders, that is all.”
“If ye had learned to do dat properly, my son wadna be dead.” Tavish strolled away, leaving the accusation hanging in the air.
Caelen fisted his hand to stop himself from punching the stone wall. With his anger still simmering, he stormed down the stairs, and then slowed when he reached the courtyard. On that night, he did what he believed what was right and just. That was until he had returned home with Diarmad’s lifeless body. The truth was, he was relieved to leave to the MacLean home. For years he lied to himself that if he stayed away the wounds would heal. He had fooled himself and failed to do his duty as heir. No longer.
Caelen slipped into the chamber with his head down. His hand lingered on the handle as he spotted Brenna. She sat on the bed, wrapped in a damp drying linen. Her feet peeked out from the bottom where they perched on the bed frame. Her round toes curled around the edge. He shut the door, trying not to disturb her. She looked up over her brows and gave him a soft, welcoming smile.
The bath linen drooped off one shoulder. She ran a comb through the edges of her wet hair that soaked the material. Her perfectly round nipples pressed against the fabric, revealing their pink flesh to his hungry gaze. She hummed a light sound that wasn’t from any song he recalled.
Caelen set his plaid on the hook, listening to her hum. He tossed his balled-up leine in the basket. His father’s words echoed in his mind. Isn’t that why he married her, to better the clan? And it had been the reason. She hadn’t repulsed him. The opposite in fact—he saw her beauty, no man could look at her and not be hypnotized by it. He liked her purposeful glide and the way her arms swung at her side. He liked the way she would blink and appear innocent, but he had gleamed the deep intelligence in her sable eyes and her ever present smile. He liked her smile. So, his wife wasn’t musically talented. He found himself drifting toward her. She raised her head.
Her flawless, rosy skin was scrubbed clean and emphasized the fullness of her lips. Brenna was delicate. His hand shook as he reached out to touch her He traced the feminine slope of her shoulder. Sure, he would leave a mark that would either brand her as his or mar her skin. He couldn’t stop. His caress smoothed up again to the base of her neck. He cradled the nape of her neck in his palm as his thumb brushed across her mouth.
“You are beautiful,” he said as if only just aware of it when it had been in the forefront of his mind.
Her lips parted. He heard the soft rush of air rather than felt it. Yet, he swore her breath breeze across his own mouth. He even though he smelled the sweet scent of her breath.
He lowered his head and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. A quick nip before he freed her lip. He suckled the plump flesh to ease any sting. He claimed her mouth. Her well-shaped lips fit perfectly against his. He dipped his tongue into her mouth and snaked around her own. He parried, thrust, and twined their tongues. She moaned.
His thumb caught in the wet strands of her hair. He trailed kisses to her neck, tasting her clean, damp flesh. The scent of roses, water, and cleanliness surrounded him. He’d replaced it with his own scent.
He licked the speeding vein in her neck. Her heartbeat raced under the tip of his tongue. She moaned. The vibration spread through her neck and into his mouth. He caught the flesh and suckled at the thin skin. Her head fell back with a mixture of a sigh and a moan. His desire notched up and sent blazing heat through him.
He laid her down and covered her with his body. He gripped a handful of her damp linen, snagging it on her harden nipple. Slowly, he inched down the thin barrier with a trail of open kisses before leaving the fabric draped around her waist. A swathe of silky flesh was exposed. The firelight danced over her naked flesh. He dipped his tongue into the depression at the base of her neck.
Her fingers glided up his arms. Her nails skimmed his flesh. His hairs stood up and fired his nerve endings. Never in his life had he felt so hot, but he knew this was the beginning of their desire. She possessed passion. He would burn up from it.
He slid his hand along her waist and cupped her breast. He flicked his thumb over her nipple, and then pinched the pliant apex between two fingers. She arched her back. Her malleable flesh pressed against his palm. The peak thrust against his callused flesh. He squeezed.
He kissed a path to her breast. He closed his hot mouth around the cool flesh. He suckled, drawing the tender flesh deeper into his mouth. The salty flavor of her flesh sparked alive his taste buds. He flicked his tongue around the apex. She tangled her fingers in his hair. Her thumb brushed against his ear. He shivered from the caress.
He rose to his forearms.
She tried to pull his head down. “Don’t stop.” Passion thickened her feminine pitch.
“Never. There is more.”
Her heavy lidded eyes widened, revealing the heated haze of her desire. A wicked grin graced her swollen, glossy mouth.
He drew down the linen, exposing more of her. Light draped over her bare chest. Her nipples glistened. Her skin glowed. Her breathing hitched, quivering her perfectly round breasts.
He placed his hand flat on her stomach. His thumb grazed the top of the curls guarding her womanhood. She locked her eyes on him. Her eyes were hooded, thickened by desire. Her bottom lip trembled as she sucked in a breath of anticipation and held it. The look hit him in the center of his chest. She was his. He needed to know all of her, explore every inch of her flesh. She swallowed then licked her lips. He claimed her mouth. He kissed her open-mouthed, thrusting deeply as he yearned to taste her. He needed to sample all of her.
Blood swelled his manhood. A knock sounded at the door. Caelen broke off the kiss and yelled, “Go away.”
Brenna giggled. Her firm breasts shook.
“You laugh.”
She nodded.
“I’ll turn that into screams.” He grasped her calves. He placed a peck on her inner knee and then on the other one. He kneaded the shapely muscles before he hooked her legs on his shoulders. He buried his face in the center of her legs.
“Caelen.” Her voice jumped up two notches. She tugged at his hair. He shook her off. He found the center of her womanhood. He lapped at her. Once. Twice. He groaned against her and felt her shudder rock him. He found her hot center. He suckled the nub between his teeth. Her legs constricted and then relaxed. Her sweet nectar flooded his mouth. Her heat blasted against his face. He grasped her apple-shaped cheeks and lifted her up to get deeper. Vibrations spread. Her breathing hitched and her moans grew to the point she could barely release the sound. She pushed down, drawing nearer to his mouth.
She jolted up as crashing waves racked her. He never released her from the sweet torment as he drew out her pleasure. His manhood grew just as his ego. The last tremor spread th
rough her. As her body twitched, he blanketed her with his own. The tip of his manhood pressed against her center and drenched him in her wetness.
She ran her hands down his back and then up along his spine with the tips of her fingers. His muscles tightened as her touch set a blaze within him. He slipped a finger in her. Her walls hummed about him. He dipped another one, stretching her. In and out. Around him, her walls grew tighter and tighter. He groaned. With his thumb, he massaged her swollen nub. Her first spasm trailed up his arm, and then the waves of release broke.
“Not finished yet.” He lost all ability to speak after that. The tip of his manhood pushed at her opening. He inched in. Her ribbed walls still wavered. With aching slowness, he inched deeper. He clenched his jaw. His muscles strained. He reached the veil of her virginity and with a push forward, he broke through.
She gripped him. Hell, he never felt anything so luxurious. His head fell forward, lost in the sensations of her hot walls.
He drew out, and then dipped back in. Caelen had to move, but pulling back wrenched him to the core. He plunged back in, and then pulled out. With each stroke, he grew hot. He linked their hands, pinning hers above her head. She laid spread beneath for his eyes to feast on.
She wrapped her legs high around his waist, drawing him deeper. Yet, he never got what he yearned for—to reach the very center of her. With each languid stroke, her nipples brushed against him. Their hot bodies twined together. The ropes creaked from the building motion of their bodies. Her guttural moans drove him on.
He released his hold and gripped her hips. He pounded into her. His strokes turned into a frenzy. The bodies slapped together. The strike of their flesh clapped. The sound was swift and strong. At the head of his manhood, he felt the first contraction of her womanhood till the sensation encompassed him and choked him. He couldn’t last much longer. That was his last thought before he shattered. His seed spilled out of him.
He jerked a few times and collapsed on Brenna. Their sweaty skin stuck together along with the strands of her hair sticking to his chest. All around them was the musky scent of their lovemaking. For the briefest moment, he felt nothing and everything. The air breezed across his back. Her exhales cooled his back and the pull of her inhales took away the cooling air. Hell, he even felt the pores of her skin.
He rolled off her. Caelen tucked her to his side. She rested her head on his chest and tangled her fingers in the hairs lining his stomach.
* * * *
This whole world was different. Her sight was sharper. The air felt crisper. The blending of scents whether bread or smoke, she caught each note. The one smell she loved was the one of Caelen on her skin. Somehow, his musky scent burrowed into her.
Last night was wonderful. Watching the young couples had been arousing, but doing the actual act was beyond anything she imagined. Her thoughts turned to last night and roused her desire again. She trembled. Though, she was sore. It didn’t pain her. It didn’t even slow her. The dullest aches empowered her. Sadly, sharing their lovemaking was unladylike, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to tell someone of the experience. She’d keep it private and relive the night like her own personal treat.
Best of all, now as husband and wife, her father would face a difficulty. Surely, the church and king couldn’t go against the laws.
Brenna set off to meet with the weavers. Today, there was an accounting. Besides, she decided the Grant men had to put away their old plaids and don Mackenzie colors. When that occurred, both the council and her father would have to view the situation differently and perhaps cease with their complaints.
She slipped inside the workshop. Their chortles bounced about the space. Brenna must have made a peep because they raised their gaze from their looms. The atmosphere lost the jovialness.
“My lady,” their fierce leader said. She shot a look around her, making sure all was proper. “I’m ready fae the accounting.”
“Very good.” Brenna clutched the rolls to her chest and the basket with the writing instruments bumped against her hip as she crossed to the makeshift table. She spread them out and perched on the wobbly stool. She dipped the pointed edge in the ink and started inscribing the numbers. There was the weight of the wool, yarns of variable colors, dyes used, and other such details to be accounted for. It was a mindless duty. Not that she treated it with less attention. The numbers had to match and monies had to be used for the most important tasks.
She added the numbers. “All seems well.” She scrubbed at the ink smudge on the flat of her hand. “I’m in need of sixteen plaids.”
“’Tis fae the Grants, my lady?”
“Aye.”
The women peeked up from their looms and glanced at each other. Brenna didn’t care for their opinions on the matter. They hadn’t understood the importance of this task. “Remember, we are all MacKenzies now.” She stared pointedly at each women and only looked away after they nodded.
She rolled up the scrolls, tied the ribbons, and replaced the instruments. “I shall return for them.”
She ran across the courtyard and returned the scrolls to their proper place. Caelen was training the men. That meant she had to ride out there by herself. Brenna loved adventure, and she would be on the land. Nothing could go wrong. She sent a prayer upward that it would be an uneventful outing.
She raced back to the building, snatched up the plaids, and headed to the stable.
“I require a horse.”
The stable master scratched his head. “The earl’s horse is the only one ’ere. ’Tis too mighty a beast fae ye.”
Brenna peeked down the aisle. His long face hung over the rope. He tossed his head then sneered at her, revealing his large teeth. She ought to give up this scheme. “I can handle him. I’ve ridden him before.” She was pleased how strong her voice sounded at her half-lie.
The stable master narrowed his gaze. She stiffened, waiting for him to call her on her half-truth. “I cannot wait. I shall see to the task myself.”
He held up his hand. “Nay, I’ll do it. Canna ha’e a lady seein’ to such a chore.”
She gave a pleased nod and slipped deeper into the stable, depending on the shadow to hide her from being caught.
The beast let out a snort that was more fitting to a wild boar than a horse. His thick hooves pounded the ground. The stable master slipped the bridle on and leapt out of the way of the teeth snapping at him. “Behave, ye beastie.” He let out a string of curses.
Oh, what would happen to her? She moved the plaids from her left arm to her right to kill her doubts. She paced. When she reached the doorway, she peeked out. She heard Caelen’s voice. Or at least, it sounded like him. She jumped back into the shadow.
The stable master approached, leading the horse. The animal landed his black gaze on her and Brenna knew he planned to do something to her. She looked down at his large hooves. Aye, he probably plotted to toss her and stomp her. Nevertheless, she let the stable master tie the plaids and she climbed on the mounting stool, which was nothing more than a tree trunk.
The beast looked back at her. She didn’t care for the disrespectful look in his eyes. He tossed his head as if he were laughing at her. She swung into the saddle. There, you beast.
She set off, swaying left to right as they passed the gates. Half way down the bridge, the animal stopped.
“Come along. Before Caelen finds me gone. You’ll get in trouble, too. ” She shook the reins. She kicked her heels. He started walking again.
Once across the bridge, the animal decided to take the lead. His walk turned into a trot. Brenna held on for her life. She had traveled here by horse, naturally. It was a tender beast who followed the lead of another one. Oh, this was foolish, but she was riding. The lump in her throat blocked air from reaching her lungs. Her stomach churned. Her eyes were dry from being wide-eyed with terror.
One thought occurred to her. Were they heading in the right direction? She looked around. The loch was to her left and the mountains rose to her righ
t. At least, the beast stayed on the path, following the curve of the loch. The whistling calls of Sandpipers cracked the silence. She passed cottars lined to her right. The clan’s children waved to her. She returned each one while sending a quiet prayer that her husband was not about.
“You were fooling me. You can be nice.” She patted his neck. She lifted her leg as the beast tried to take a chunk of flesh. “’Tis unbecoming for you to bite. If you are nice to me, I shall be nice to you. Besides, the faster we get there the faster you can return to your stable. And I would like this to be fast.”
“I’m glad you are listening. I wonder what Caelen calls you. Not that you shall tell me.”
The ride became easier as they traveled along. She found the rhythm and the proper hold of the reins. She was actually enjoying this ride.
“To think I was afraid of riding. Of course, you must understand.” She explained in detail the reason for her fear. “So, now you know the reason for my fear. Of course, after that my father wouldn’t allow me to ride. Though, I am becoming braver. Perhaps, we shall go out for rides every day. I just need to know what to call you. Horse seems rude.”
“I have the most perfect name for you—Thor. Aye, the first time I met you, you stomped about like thunder, and with your white coloring, you remind me of lightning.”
“Ah, we are nearing the cottar.”
Thor chose that moment to speed up. She tightened her legs and leaned low over his neck. That was the wrong thing to do since Thor increased his speed. The ground sped by in a blur of green, brown, with yellow dots that were wildflowers. Soon, she would be lifeless on that ground, stomped by Thor’s huge hooves. She closed her eyes and prayed Thor wasn’t stupid enough to go off a cliff. She just had to hang on until he tired.
Then she was half way out of the saddle. She screamed and then landed back on the horse. She peeled her eyes open. Oran stood at her side. His mouth was moving not that she heard a word. It was either because of the inner scream that bounced about her head and filled her ears, or her heart that beat a wild tattoo.
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