A Lady's Vengeance

by Reece Butler

  That would change before they left this room. She would know he ruled over her, and that he did by her choice. A sense of calm sureness filled him.

  Her fingers stilled, and her jaw tightened. He prepared to pounce.

  “Nay.” She raised her chin defiantly.

  “Nay?” His voice was calm though his heart pounded at her taking the bait. “Ye are refusing my order?” She nodded abruptly. “Ye ken what will happen?”

  “I ken you are strong enough to strip me and force me to my knees.”

  Her tilted-up chin and bravado was a red flag to his bull. He would strip her, and enjoy it. He would not, however, force her to her knees. That would be her choice. She needed to be conquered to believe he was worthy of her submission. He would ravish her, proving how much he needed her. His cock throbbed with the wanting of it.

  He knew her body well and would know if she was in pain or truly frightened. If so, he would stop. Otherwise, he would do whatever he wished, conquering her in the manner she demanded.

  “I tell ye again. Strip or I will rip yer gown from yer body.”

  “I dare you!”

  Alana’s braid served well to hold her close. She screamed and kicked and fought him. It raised his lust to conquer her. He let her rage at him, her hair rope wrapped tight in one hand as he ripped her gown off with the other. Luckily it was old and light, so the seams parted easily enough. She snarled words no lady should ever hear, much less use. He cared not. She was his, and he would prove it.

  “Do ye kneel?” he demanded when she wore naught but a scowl.

  “Never!”

  He moved to her back and dipped, sliding his hand between her thighs. They were wet, proof of her arousal. Satisfied, he hauled her toward the bed. She knew what he would do to her. She fought him, panting and snarling like a she-wolf caught in a trap.

  His cock had never been so hard. The fighting aroused him like nothing else. It was bloodlust and battle lust, all in one. He shoved her forward. Her hands fell on the bed. Releasing her braid, he held her down with one hand on her lower back as he slipped off his belt. His plaid fell. He kicked it out of the way. He shoved her ankles apart and looked down at his conquest. Her pussy lips were swollen, glistening, and temping. Her arse tilted up to him, her asshole winking each time she clenched her pussy.

  No doubt she wanted his cock in her hot channel. He wanted it there as well but it would be in his time, his way. He changed his grip, grasping her hips. He leaned over.

  “Ye are mine,” he said, quiet and distinct. Her back heaved as she breathed. She said nothing to deny it. “I am yer husband, yer laird, and yer master. “You will obey me in all things.”

  “Nay!”

  “Aye!”

  His cock slid easily into her heat. She bucked against him, but whether she was trying to push him out, or thrust back against him for that precious friction, he knew not, nor did it matter.

  This was fucking. Hard, controlled, fucking, for his enjoyment only.

  He took her deep, again, and again, until his balls exploded with his seed. Her pussy clenched against him as her own orgasm hit. She milked him until his lust faded, leaving only his love. He collapsed onto the bed.

  Exhausted, her limbs limp from fighting and release, she lay beside him, panting. He’d never let out the beast of primal lust he’d been sure would frighten any woman. It hadn’t frightened Alana. She’d reveled in it.

  When he could sit up without his head spinning he brought a warm cloth to the bed. He tended her gently, wiping and then kissing every inch of her. She watched him, silent and limp. He cleaned himself quickly and then climbed back in beside her. He pulled her close. She sighed, relaxing into him.

  “I was afraid ye’d ask for divorce,” he said.

  Her breath hitched. “You thought I would leave you?”

  “Ye married us because ye were forced into it. William is gone, and you are free.” He’d had to tell her, and had done so.

  “Oh Cormac, I’ll never be free of you.” She turned to look up at him. “I married you because I wished to. My father’s insistence on William was the answer to a prayer. Tell me, would you have allowed yourself to marry me if you’d not thought you were protecting me?”

  “Ye are a lady, far above our station.”

  “And now you are Laird Cormac of Keiss. My husband, my laird, and my loving master.”

  He brushed the hair away from her face. “I love you, Alana Sinclair.” Her eyes widened. “’Tis true.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “I never thought you’d submit to me.”

  “I’ve not kneeled to you.”

  “Ye dinna have to. I ken ye’ve submitted to me in here.” He touched her breast over her heart. “I ken it, as I ken yer love, and mine for ye and this babe.”

  He knew not what she was thinking. He didn’t have to know because he trusted that, while her heart beat in her chest, she would always be there for him. She struggled out of his arms and off the bed. He sat up to watch. She stood in front of him, solemn, searching his eyes. Then she dropped her eyes and knelt at his feet.

  “I am yours,” she said quietly.

  His heart filled with a quiet confidence. Her kneeling was only an outward show of what was between them, in their hearts. He stood to rest his hand on her head. She sighed, the corners of her mouth turning up. He bent over, kissed her forehead, and helped her to her feet. He shuddered with the knowledge that he was no longer alone.

  “And will ye be doing that to James?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “James is not my master. Only you. And I love you both.”

  Epilogue

  “’Tis a pig for the babe.”

  Cormac examined wee Billy’s carving. It had four stumps on one side and a large lump on one end, which could end up as a head. A few weeks back Cormac had found an old dirk and had cleaned and sharpened it for the lad. The boy could carve spoons and ladles with it, valuable gifts that could be traded for things the family needed. Billy had proudly promised to carve something for their babe. His father, hand on the lad’s shoulder, had given only a brisk nod as thanks. Cormac understood. He’d once had nothing and been too proud to ask. Cormac had given Billy more than a knife. He’d given him a chance to learn a useful trade and to find pride. It had cost Cormac nothing but time yet could change the lad’s life.

  “There’s a wee bit more to do, aye?”

  “Aye.” Billy sighed. “’Twas a horse, but I broke two of the legs, so I made it a pig. Do ye think the wee laddie will mind?”

  “Nay, he’ll be proud to receive a gift from a big lad such as yerself.”

  The boy beamed. He looked over Cormac’s shoulder, eyes, widening. “’Tis yer lady.”

  Alana waved. He stood, patting Billy on the shoulder. “I’d best see what ’tis about.”

  She’d blossomed in the last month. Their babe was moving, so big now the laddie often kicked him in the back while they slept. Alana would roll over and the babe could kick James instead.

  He’d pushed her, taking her as her laird and master chose. He lifted her skirts and took her against the wall of the hall while Polly, red-faced but pretending not to notice, swept the rushes at the far end. Another time he bent her over the kitchen table and lifted her skirts while Cook made pastry. Alana might complain, but she always shuddered in a hard orgasm. The old women cackled at Alana’s blushes after each session, saying they’d be visiting a friend that night for a bit of the same.

  He hauled her into his arms as soon as she was close enough and kissed her thoroughly, much to the amusement of the villagers. Alana gulped air when he’d finished. She waved a piece of parchment.

  “There’s a letter from Laird Fraser.”

  “What does it say?” She had full permission to read and answer any correspondence that came to Keiss Castle. She was far more educated and could write with a fine hand.

  “’Tis good news and will wait until we’re in our chamber.�
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  She snuggled into his arms for the short walk back to the castle where they met James. The two fo them insisted Alana lie on the bed with her swollen feet up, so they could massage them.

  “The letter ’tis from Laird Fraser,” she said, reading it. “Somerled thanks you for my dowry gold and Niall is pleased your brothers will eat well this winter. Duff and Malcolm are to visit Laird MacKenzie. Somerled signed a marriage contract for Malcolm and Laird MacKenzie’s widowed daughter Kiera.” She paused, frowning. “I thought Colin’s sister was a shrewish widow wanting naught to do with a husband.”

  Cormac chuckled. “Colin said his father grumbled about Kiera insisting no man could tame her. Seems MacKenzie thinks ’twill take two MacDougals to do so.” Alana’s eyes lit up at the word “tame.” He pecked her on the cheek. “They are good lads, identical twins, and will treat her well.”

  “Hmph,” was her only response. He was sure he’d hear more about it later.

  “Laird Fraser was pleased to hear Ewan had good news about Fiona's babe. I remember the name. Which one is he?”

  “Ewan gets visions when he touches people,” said James. “He touched Cormac’s hand and said you were so fertile we’d best have a priest standing near if we bedded you.” He kissed her belly. “He was right.”

  “It’s hard for him to be with people,” added Cormac. “The only one he can touch without the chance of visions is Torquil. The two of them were born to different mothers on Beltane, under a full moon. I was born a few months later.” He snorted sarcastically. “Our father’s first wife had died and he was busy tomcatting that spring.”

  “I guess they’d be step-twins. Do they look alike?”

  “They used to be the same until the Campbells found Torquil fishing on our land and took a whip to him. He was only a lad. Ewan warned Somerled, so we caught them before they killed him. He's well scarred and doesna go far from Duncladah.”

  “He was surprised Fiona could look him in the eye, but she was raised mostly by soldiers,” added James. “Torquil learned early to hide from women. Ewan canna stand to be near those who fear Torquil. He picks up on their feelings, you ken.”

  “’Twould be hard for men like that to find a wife,” mused Alana.

  “A man who canna stand to be touched and one who calls himself a monster, both bastards of thirty years. Aye, ’tisn’t likely they’ll be finding a wife.”

  “Does Laird Fraser have anything else to say, or can we see how our babe is growing?” asked James.

  Alana groaned in false exasperation. “Aye, he has a page for you in code, James. And you dinna wish to feel our babe, you wish to put your hands on me for other reasons.”

  “Aye, my hands and mouth on ye, and my cock in ye.” Cormac and James shared a lewd grin.

  “I swear our daughter will have no hair when she’s born from your cocks sliding past her head day and night!”

  “Our wife still thinks she’s carrying Janet Morag Sinclair, and not our son,” said James.

  “Methinks she’s getting a wee bit ornery again.” Cormac patted her haunch. “She needs a massage with that special rub Biddy gave us for her belly, breasts, and arse.”

  “Nay, ’tis for my aching feet!”

  Cormac slid his hand under her gown. James helped him. Though Alana complained, it was halfhearted.

  They did get to her feet, eventually. By then she was limp from orgasms. She lay flat on the bed, arms and legs wide. An orgasmic flush tinged her skin from her pussy to her forehead. Her well-plundered smile of satisfaction made his cock fight to rise again.

  “Look at our wife, James,” said Cormac as he massaged her right foot. “She is the prettiest lass I’ve ever seen. I thank God the earl demanded she return home. If we didna rescue her she’d still be wasting her life caring for Fraser bairns and sleeping with cats.”

  “I’m the one who seduced you,” she replied, the corners of her lips curling higher.

  “And look what happened. Ye are lying like this, naked belly big with our babe, weak from loving both yer men until ye canna even open yer eyes.”

  A pair of light blue eyes proved him wrong, which was his intention. He was learning how to master his wee wife. He admitted only to himself that she was learning to do the same with him, and with James.

  “My laird, your brother is doing a far better job with my left foot.”

  Cormac knew what to do in answer to her challenge. He tightened his grip on her right ankle and ran his thumbnail up the sole of her foot. She shrieked, laughing as she tried to kick. He easily held her still, his strength so much greater. When she stopped fighting he kissed her instep.

  “I love ye, lass,” he quietly admitted. “Far more than I’d kenned was possible.”

  James didn’t speak, but the tender kiss he gave her ankle was as good as words.

  Alana smiled, making Cormac’s heart soar. “You both have my love.”

  “Ye are our loving wife, the mother of our bairns, and the one we will keep close all our lives.”

  She lifted her arms to them. Her chin quivered, eyes glistening with what she called baby tears. “Hold me,” she whispered.

  “Always, my love.”

  THE END

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Early jobs cleaning cages for a veterinarian, scrubbing floors in a hospital, and working as a waitress helped Reece Butler realize she was more of a thinker than a doer. An office keyboard kept her occupied for many years while her family grew. Once she discovered the romance genre it was a short step to reading erotic romance. And, since she has an active imagination and is fascinated with people, she began writing…

  She now spends most of her time writing, reading, researching, editing, plotting, creating characters…and eating dark chocolate.

  For all titles by Reece Butler, please visit

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