by Mary Wine
She reached for him, slipping her hands into the open front of his doublet and shirt. “Aye…” he ground out as her hands flattened on his skin. She’d barely had time to stroke his neck and breast before he was stepping back.
She let out a little frustrated sound that drew an answering grunt from him. “I need out of these clothes…”
Oh yes. She agreed wholeheartedly.
It should have struck her as an absurd moment. The way they both fought to strip down as though they were too hot. Instead, she tugged and loosened laces until her bodice was laying on the floor behind her and her skirts puddled around her ankles.
Diocail was faster. He opened his belt the moment he shrugged his doublet off, and his kilt went slumping to the floor. His shirt didn’t last any longer as he ripped it up and over his head. When the fabric cleared his face, his eyes glittered with hard purpose.
It sent a bolt of anticipation through her, making her breath catch in her throat. Jane froze, her fingers suddenly trembling so badly she couldn’t work the button on the cuff of her shirt. All she seemed able to accomplish was to stare, absorbing the hard strength etched into his flesh. From head to toe, he was savage.
And she craved him even more for it.
He’d come forward on those silent steps of his, moving slowly, apparently worried she might bolt. “Do nae fear me…”
“I don’t.” Jane didn’t think she’d ever spoken truer words. “I just…can’t seem to stop…so silly of me…really. I’m not a virgin.”
He caught her hand, brushing her fingers away as he pushed the button through its hole to free the cuff. It fell open as he raised her hand and kissed the delicate skin on the underside of her wrist. She shivered, her eyes slipping closed as she let the sheer intensity of the moment engulf her.
“I’m glad ye are no’.”
Jane opened her eyes and locked gazes with him. Need flickered in his eyes. It was hard and, somehow, utterly male. She’d witnessed a man looking at her who thought he owned her before. This was different. Diocail wanted to possess her.
“Take me.” She wasn’t thinking. “Exactly the way I see that you want to.”
His eyes narrowed, his lips thinning to show her a glimpse of his teeth. He was menacing and hard, and it fanned the flames licking at her insides. Her clitoris was throbbing, her breasts aching to be against him again, but most of all, she knew she wanted more than the satisfaction he’d delivered with his fingers and tongue.
She wanted him to claim her.
“No more teasing,” she continued. “I want to know…you.”
Her statement pleased him. She saw the flash of enjoyment light his eyes before he was scooping her up, swinging her against his body as he turned and lowered her onto their makeshift bed. The fur compressed under her weight as he placed her in the middle, the linen soft against her skin. It suited him. And what she craved from him.
Jane reached for him, pulling him down, gasping when his body connected with hers. He was cupping her knees and spreading them as he pushed them up so her center was open. He sat back on his haunches, her own thighs on top of his as his cock stuck out over the spread folds of her sex.
“Ye’re me wife, Jane.”
He bit out each word as he teased her little clitoris with his thumb. She heard the sound of her wet flesh as need became a desperate thing inside her. She might have begged in that moment for him to take her; there was nothing she cared about except having him claim her.
Reckless…
Savage…
And she felt more alive than she ever had before in her life. As though this was her purpose, her gender no longer less than his but a complement.
“I am, and I demand your favors…husband.”
He grunted in response but shifted, setting the head of his cock against her open body. She shuddered, her passage feeling empty. He didn’t let her suffer for long, pressing forward, splitting her open as his length stretched her.
“Christ…” he growled as he fought to stay still for a moment. “I want to ravage ye…”
Her lips were dry in anticipation. Diocail pulled free, his cock wet, and pressed back into her as she lifted her hips.
Control vanished for them both. He covered her, his elbows braced on either side of her head as she clamped her thighs tight around his hips. He rocked her with a motion that built the need churning inside her, fanning it, growing it while they labored toward a common goal. Part of her wanted to savor the ride, but control had slipped from her grasp, leaving her nothing but impulses. She craved him and lifted to take every thrust he drove toward her. He was hard, and she writhed in enjoyment as his strength fed her cravings. They were rushing toward something, and when they reached it, they tumbled over the edge into a swirling storm of sensation. Pleasure gripped her so tightly that she was powerless to do anything except cling to Diocail while she cried out.
He was trapped as well, cupping his hands over her head as he plunged into her, going rigid as he ground out a word in Gaelic. She felt his seed release inside her, a hot flood that triggered another spasm deep inside her. For a time, nothing mattered except holding him as tightly as she might. When she finally released him, her limbs quivered, her skin was coated with perspiration, and he rolled off her as they both gasped as though they had nearly drowned.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered but the glow of satisfaction warming her. Nothing at all.
* * *
Diocail woke with a start.
He blinked as he tried to recall where he was. It was harder than it should have been, but he caught sight of Jane lying next to him and realized he was still caught in the throes of passion.
It was stronger than he’d ever experienced. His body felt heavy, and the effort of rolling toward his partner was almost more than he could muster. But he needed to be near her. He pulled his kilt over them, tugging a corner of one of the furs along with it to keep the chill of the night away. Jane muttered in her sleep, and he smoothed his fingers along her cheek, easing her close.
The need to slip back into slumber was strong, but he fought it for a moment, looking down at the way Jane was nestled along his side. Her scent was in his nostrils, her pink nipples bare for him to see. She was so perfect in that moment, beyond beautiful. He curved his body around hers, cradling her head in his hand before locking the other on her hip.
His.
Perfect.
Two different words and yet very much the same to his way of thinking.
* * *
The hard, long days of labor had taken their toll on both of them. Jane slept deeply, blinking her eyes as she tried to wake and identify what had disturbed her. She discovered she was peeking over the edge of whatever was covering her, just able to see past it into the morning light. It made her blink as she became accustomed to it, her vision sharpening after a moment.
“Holy Christ!” she swore as she recognized Muir and Niven.
Blinking didn’t make them dissipate either. She was back to wishing she knew how to curse.
“Ye’ve had yer fun.” Jane let out a squeak as Diocail spoke beside her. She recoiled, earning a snort from him as he clamped his arms around her.
“Now get out so the lass can dress,” he barked at his men. “She’s no’ wearing a stitch.” Diocail’s tone warmed with amusement that made her strain against his hold. All that gained her was a rumble from his chest as he held her steady.
There was a bark of laughter from one of the men looking down on them. Jane was frozen with horror as she realized Aylin and Kory were also there. They had the audacity to tug on the corner of their bonnets when they saw her staring at them before they made slow progress toward the door.
“Lord grant me the strength no’ to lay the lot of them low,” Diocail muttered into her hair.
The moment the door closed he release
d her. She rolled out of the bedding and sucked in her breath at the chill. Diocail had cast off their makeshift bedding and sat eyeing her.
“I do nae believe I’ve ever looked forward to spring so much, because I know I can keep ye bare in our chambers when the weather warms.”
She intended to make some reply after retrieving her high-necked smock and pushing her arms into the sleeves. But he was watching her, and it made her suddenly shy as memory rushed back to remind her of just how brazen she’d been.
“What troubles ye, Jane?”
He rose, and she realized he’d slept in his boots. In fact, she still wore her stockings, her shoes caught in the puddle of her skirts. She heard him pulling his shirt on as she found her hip roll and tied it in place.
“I’m just cold.”
She lifted her skirts high over her head and dropped them down her body. The waistband caught around her waist because of the hip roll as Diocail hooked her with one powerful arm and pulled her against him.
“Perhaps ye need a wee reminder of just how much ye enjoy being mine.”
She didn’t. Not that Diocail gave her the chance to say so. He pressed a kiss against her mouth as he cupped her nape to hold her steady for the assault. It wasn’t a hard kiss, but it cut her to the core. Even in the bright light of day she craved him, reaching up to stroke his neck because she just didn’t seem to be close enough.
“Aye, that’s the way,” he muttered as lifted his head and aimed a determined look into her eyes. “We’ll stay right here if that is the way ye need it to be.”
Part of her liked that idea very much. But there was bright light coming through the edges of the closed window shutters, and she knew she’d be foolish indeed to squander the fine weather. “The snow will return soon enough.”
Diocail lifted his head from where he’d been nuzzling her neck. “Perhaps winter is a fine season as well. I have the feeling I am going to learn a new application for the long, cold nights.”
He pressed another kiss against her lips when she tried to wiggle from his embrace. “I suppose I should be understanding of yer shyness,” he said as he released her.
Jane felt him watching her as she grasped the open sides of her waistband. Her thoughts were in a tangle, and he seemed the most solid thing in the chamber, so she ended up looking at him. His brown eyes were steady but filled with questions. But she pleased him by looking at him, and he let out a soft sound.
“Aye, I will be patient.”
He turned and somehow found the tie for her skirts. He held it out as she reached for it with fingers that at least didn’t shame her by trembling.
For a moment, the chamber was filled with the sound of clothing being donned. Diocail pleated his kilt and lay down to buckle his belt in place. “Help me with me buttons, Jane.”
His tone was tempered, but she heard the authority in it. Jane was already working the bottom ones through their holes before she thought to question his command.
“You don’t need help dressing.” But she continued to work her way toward his collar.
“Nay,” he admitted. “It’s an excuse to get ye near me, and I am no’ ashamed to say so.” He reached down and lifted her chin so their gazes locked. “Are ye ashamed? Last night, ye were—”
“I know.” She stepped away and smoothed her hair.
“It distresses ye now?” He wasn’t going to allow the matter to remain unspoken.
“Truly,” she began. “I have no idea what to think.” She stopped with her hand on her forehead. “Never have I behaved in such a manner. You bring out something in me that has my thoughts all…tangled.”
He flashed her a grin. A wolfish, smug expression that made it clear he enjoyed her admission. “Well now, that’s fine praise.”
Jane offered him a frustrated look that earned her a mock reverence from him.
“Just remember, I didn’t pray for patience with your men,” she advised him. “Best get on your way and make certain I don’t catch them in the stairwell.”
“I’m planning on being at the bottom to see which one is fool enough to let ye close enough to kick him in the arse.”
He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he disappeared through the chamber doors. It left her with a moment of privacy to reflect. Jane turned and looked at their bed of pelts.
You enjoyed it…
She had, and part of her wasn’t sorry one bit. No. Instead, she felt the flutter of something inside her, something that felt a whole lot like she was finished being ashamed of who she was. Or perhaps she was admitting her true nature at last.
Whatever it was, she decided she liked it.
So did Diocail…
She turned and left the chamber with a blush staining her cheeks, but not because of what she’d done. No, the heat stemmed from the thoughts she was entertaining about what to do with him once the sun set that night.
* * *
“Mistress.”
Jane turned around and found a man standing near the door of the cellar. She waved the woman she was working with on, earning a nod. Both of them were hauling bundles of late-season vegetables to the lower rooms where they would stay fresh with the help of the chill.
“Yes?” Jane asked.
Whoever he was, he looked a bit uncertain. He’d taken to looking around instead of at her. A tingle touched her nape, but he looked back at her.
“The mill.” He spoke low and gruff. “Dolina said ye were needed.”
Dolina was proving to be indispensable. Jane trusted her judgment and dusted her hands on her apron. “Thank you for coming to fetch me.”
He looked at the floor again but cleared out of the doorway.
It would take time.
She repeated those words as she made her way away from the towers with the man following her. Honestly, she could not begrudge him or any of his clan for having reservations about her, since she herself had needed to be locked in a chamber with Diocail to face her own feelings.
She was content in that choice now.
She felt herself smiling, had worn a silly expression of joy for most of the day because it felt as if there was a bubble of happiness stuck in her chest. She hoped it never worked its way free.
The truth was she’d honestly never believed she might be so happy. Never suspected she might be filled with it so fully she wanted to twirl around in a circle and then stop and say a quick prayer of thanks because of how grateful she was.
So she would smile at the man trudging along with her, thank him kindly for his time, and let him see she meant to make his life as comfortable as she might.
“Thank you for fetching me—”
Something slammed into the back of her head. Jane stared at the man’s tight expression as she felt the pain rushing through her head, and then darkness claimed her like a raptor snatching a mouse from the ground.
Quick, silent, and deadly.
* * *
“I should lay ye low.”
Muir wasn’t concerned. In fact, he offered Diocail a smirk as they worked on the stable roof. “Ye should be thanking me,” Muir responded.
“Aye,” Aylin added. “Ye are nae so easy to sneak up on. Thought we were going to have to use the club to knock ye senseless to keep ye in that chamber.”
Diocail shot them a look that sent both Aylin and Muir into a fit of snickers.
“Well, now, it would have served to get the lass to cradle ye sure enough!” Muir exclaimed with malicious glee.
“Aye,” Diocail agreed. “And it would have gotten ye a very well-deserved arse kicking.”
Muir opened his arms wide. “I’m wounded. I witnessed with me own eyes the pair of ye snuggled against each other, the mistress’s hair all tousled and her bare—”
“Enough,” Diocail interrupted with a mock look of reprimand. “She is ye
r mistress…save yer colorful talk for others.”
Muir lifted his hands in mock surrender, but he was still grinning as he leaned over to resume working. It was hard toil, dark clouds appearing on the horizon to encourage them to move faster. Soft noises came from the horses below them, as though the beasts were thanking them for making the roof secure again.
He was besotted.
There was no other reason for him to be so pleased. Even his men’s jesting made him happy because it was true, Jane had been his. Was his.
He’d craved it but never thought to enjoy something so very much. Taking the lairdship hadn’t filled him with the same sense of contentment, even though his mother had spent her life telling him it would.
Having Jane choose him, well, that had given him a whole new perspective on just what true happiness was. Retiring to bed early was far more attractive than he’d ever considered it to be because he knew she’d be there too. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun, willing it to sink.
Instead he spied a woman’s head at the top of the ladder they’d used to climb onto the roof. It was one of the women from the kitchen, a mature woman who he’d noticed stepping up to help Jane take charge.
She looked straight at Diocail. “I can nae find the mistress.”
* * *
Whatever she was lying on jerked and rolled.
Jane let out a groan as she tumbled and felt the bruises from other impacts. The pain was enough to have her fighting to clear her thoughts and wake completely. She had been tossed into a cart, was now lying on her back as the thing made its way down a rutted road. The scent of mud and horse manure came up from beneath it, and she could see the mud through the rough planks that made up the bottom of the cart. She was sitting at an angle, which meant it had two wheels.
Her wrists were bound. She strained against the rope and felt it tearing her skin. The binding held, keeping her hands locked behind her. All she could do was fight to press her feet against the bottom of the cart in an effort to stop herself from being flung about.
