Bedding the Enemy [Highland Menage 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  It astounded her that the MacDougal brothers had a cat, not one slinking out of fear kept just to catch vermin, but one they cared about. She’d never had a pet as her brothers would have used it for target practice or some other vile thing. She hoped Shadow would keep her company.

  The door opened just enough for her saddlebags to fit through, then closed again. She thought perhaps Ewan was more worried about seeing her than she was about being seen. Her smile faded as she realized this was as close as Ewan might get to a wife of his own.

  She hoped he would speak with her now and then. With no servants she’d have no women to speak with. Not that it would stop her. This was her home now, and she would act as she chose. She would talk to Shadow, and might even hum while she worked.

  Though Ewan had said she could take her time Herald Cam would wish a chance at warm water. She smiled as she sniffed a bar of rose-scented soap. There’d been a bar of that when she first married. It had never been replaced. She’d had to use lye soap, which irritated her skin.

  She scrubbed every part of her before climbing out and wrapping herself in a drying cloth. After releasing her waist-length braid she dunked her head into the water. She moaned as the warmth infused her head, then washed it as well. She wrung out as much water as she could before wrapping it in another cloth. She dressed in the clean, dry gown from her saddlebag, leaving her hair loose to dry.

  She was ready to open the door when she heard Herald Cam talking with Ewan. Men rarely told women what was to happen yet expected them to be ready when they made a decision. She’d learned long ago to listen whenever she could.

  “She is Lady Margaret Stewart of Garth Castle,” said Cam.

  “Garth, is it? Nay Glen Lyon?” asked Ewan.

  She covered her mouth to keep back the gasp. If Ewan could tell she was a Campbell of Glen Lyon, what else did he know about her?

  “King James said she is a Stewart,” said Cam forcefully. “You ken how his father enjoyed women.”

  “Aye, and that the lass willna harm us. She canna let Somerled ken her clan afore he fully accepts her as his wife.”

  “King James will punish her if this marriage doesna work. She has a younger brother who is being trained under order of the king. Margaret raised the boy and kens his life will be nasty and short unless the marriage works. She’ll do as she must.”

  She certainly would, though it twisted her gut to be put in the position. But the wealthy and powerful were always right no matter who caused the problem. She wasn’t usually bitter but the journey had taken its toll. She wished to sleep but must do her wifely duty first.

  What would it be like to have a young, virile man in her bed? Her nipples, though warm, responded to the thought.

  “What of bedding?” asked Ewan.

  “I said ’twould be her choice as Niall willna force himself,” replied the herald. “She doesna believe it as she wasna treated well by her kin and first husband. He was an old man three times her age, but wealthy.”

  Ewan made a sound of disgust. “Sold by her father as a lass?”

  “She was seventeen, but aye, her father and brothers did well from it. They are brutes. She flinches if I raise my hand when she doesna expect it.”

  Margaret thought she’d stopped that years ago. A few months with her father had brought back the habit. She should not be mortified about things she had no control over, yet the shame lingered.

  Ewan grunted. “Fiona was the same. It does pass, in time. Mayhaps the lady will need to make Somerled rage at her, seeing he does it with words and naught else, afore she will believe. Do ye ken if she could get him in a rage?”

  Cam cleared his throat. “Lady Margaret is the type of woman who can enrage and arouse a man at the same time. She can be equally sharp in return if he aims words at her. He’ll need his wits about him.”

  A blush heated her face. The chuckles shared by the men suggested it was a compliment rather than the expected complaint.

  “I’ll warn ye, the lads have been celebratin’ the good news brought by Laird Fraser about Sir Tearlach. Fraser gifted us with a few bottles of wine to do so. The laird’s not been seen to have more than a cup of wine afore. Tonight he’s been raising his glass with Dougal and Finn. Niall and Torquil dinna drink much, but they be havin’ a wee bit as well.”

  “Somerled best not pass out afore consummating the marriage,” replied Cam. “It must be done this night. The king has entrusted me to ensure ’tis a true union.”

  She blanched. She could not have the herald witness that!

  “One look at Lady Margaret and our laird will turn sober.”

  She winced. She’d heard her brothers talk of going sober from seeing ugly women. Was she that ugly? Her brothers and husband had suggested so. She knew she was plain, short, and thin other than her breasts and arse. Edgar had punished her by denying food and she’d worked hard at Glen Lyon so was scrawny, but that could change. Not wishing to hear anything worse about herself, she pulled the door open. The skies had cleared even more while she bathed. It had turned into a lovely summer evening, the sun just starting to set.

  “I left hot water for you but I’m afraid ’tis scented with rose soap,” she said to Cam. “I ate most of what Ewan kindly put out, as well.”

  “There’s more,” said Ewan. “The lads are up those stairs in the hall if ye wish to see ’em.”

  “Give me but a moment, and I’ll go with you,” said Cam.

  “Dinna hurry. I’ll gladly wait,” she replied. He went in, closing the door. She exhaled, slumping a bit. Now that the moment was here she wished to put off meeting her husband. Or would that be husbands?

  “Can ye stay by yerself, lass? I be needed elsewhere.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She smiled but carefully didn’t reach out. “Thank you, Ewan, for meeting us, and having the bath and food ready. I’ve never been treated so well.”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing but she thought he blushed.

  “Dinna mind if the lads be a bit loud, my lady. They willna harm ye none. As for yer brother, he is well. If ye do as ye must he’ll stay that way.”

  Her jaw dropped. Ewan was gone before she could think to ask a question. She would not have believed he could know if Hamish was safe except Ewan had met them as they rode out of the dark. His words were a double-edged sword. Hamish was safe, but to keep him that way she had to be a wife to two men, no matter how distasteful. She’d survived far worse, but Edgar had been old and she knew he would not live long. These men were young and healthy. She would be here for the rest of her life.

  She squeezed her eyes to hold back tears. She didn’t cry. It was just that she was so tired from the journey and unsure of what she’d have to face next. As for Ewan’s warning that his brothers were loud, well, they were men. Men liked to boast and roar and take up space to prove their greatness. She believed it meant the opposite.

  “Piss on ye, Dougal!”

  The deep male roar came from above her. A crash, as of something heavy landing on a wood floor, followed. She shrank back into the doorway.

  “Out! Take it to the bailey!” The order was even louder and deeper.

  Two pairs of bare feet slapped furiously down the stone steps above her. She stood back as they rushed past. They ran into the bailey and, glaring at each other, undid their belts. Their plaids dropped. They pulled their shirts over their heads and added them to the pile. Then they circled each other like a pair of dogs looking for an opening. Naked.

  The blond was a few inches taller than the dark one, though both must be over six feet. The dark-haired one looked much like Ewan though his muscles were less wiry. Their cocks, swinging free, looked more impressive than Edgar’s at his most randy. Both glared as if ready to kill the other. She pressed her hand over her chest, her fingers touching her throat. What would they do?

  The dark-haired one grabbed the blond around his neck. Both roared as they fought. She’d grown up with such violence and had hoped it was forever behind h
er.

  “Finn! Get his arm off ye! Come on, lad, dinna let him win!”

  This voice came from above. Another set of feet, these slow and authoritative, came down the stairs. He passed her without noticing, striding into the bailey. He stopped, fists jammed on his hips, and watched them, his back to her. He wore nothing but his plaid.

  She thought the two fighting were big, but this man was massive. He circled around so the setting sun was at his back. It gave her a view of his giant chest and shoulders and tree-trunk legs. And his face. He looked brutal, scowling at them with what looked like disgust. Deep lines grooved his forehead and bracketed his mouth. Black hair made him seem even more sinister.

  “What do you think of your husband?”

  Chapter Three

  Lady Margaret jumped. She’d not heard Herald Cam open the door behind her.

  “That giant of a man is my husband?” she croaked.

  “Aye. That be Laird Somerled. The blond is Finn and the other is Dougal. They’re numbers thirteen and fourteen.”

  “They’re all so big,” she whispered. Both men fell to the ground, rolling over each other to gain a hold. “What are they doing?”

  “Wrestling. The laird willna let them do it indoors.”

  “But, they’re naked!”

  “They’ve got but one shirt and plaid, Lady Margaret. They dinna wish to rip them. And they dinna ken you are here.”

  “Good one, Dougal. What will ye do now, Finn?” demanded Somerled. He watched with such an aura of command that the air almost vibrated. Was that why the flesh between her thighs felt so warm?

  “Is he just going to watch?”

  Cam shrugged. “They’re just being lads.”

  “Lads? Look at the size of them! They’ll kill each other!”

  “Nay, they’ll not harm a brother. But they could use those skills to kill an enemy.” Cam turned to her. “A warrior must keep sharp. ’Tis all this is, practice in case of attack.”

  She shook her head in dismay. Their huge hands flashed, fighting for a grip on the other. Her brothers and cousins fought dirty, with hidden knives and more. Naked, there was no way these two men could hide a thing.

  “They’ll get scrapes and bruises but little else. More damage wouldna be safe as they’d not be able to fight an enemy. This wee tussle is to prove who’s best.”

  “And who is that?”

  “Laird Somerled, of course,” replied Cam smugly.

  “You said Duncladach was not like my father’s home.”

  “The lads are celebrating the good fortune of their brothers and, rare for them, have had some wine. They are wild this night but they willna harm you.”

  She’d heard that again and again yet had good reasons not to believe it. She’d been raised by men who believed in the right of might. If you could take it by force it was your right to have it. As she was small and weak, and female, she’d had few rights.

  “Somerled is one of the best warriors I’ve seen. He swings a claymore as if it is a stick,” said Cam with admiration. “Sir Tearlach and Rory are almost as good.”

  “Did their father teach them?”

  Cam didn’t hide his disgust. “Their father cared only for rutting, uncaring if his sixteen sons were fed or trained. Somerled took over as laird when he was but sixteen.”

  The boasts she’d heard about the great Glen Lyon Campbells, and how much better they were than the MacDougals, rang hollow. She’d never respected her father or Edgar, though was careful to hide her feelings. She respected Somerled for raising his brothers to be good men. She’d done what she could for Hamish until the Earl of Argyll had arranged for Hamish to be fostered out. She was sure it was all that had kept her young brother alive.

  As for Somerled, she could tug on one of his massive arms for hours and not move him a hair. Nor was she likely to move his thoughts. He was said to be harsh and unyielding and would do anything honorable to benefit his clan. She’d also heard that once he made a decision he never, ever, went back on it.

  “Och, I’d best show ye how ’tis done!” He reached for his belt.

  “He’s not going to…”

  He was. Somerled tossed his plaid aside. He was bigger, broader, and more…manly than his brothers. His long, thick cock emerged from a nest of tight black curls. She swallowed, her mouth dry. If he was this size without being aroused… And she was to share two of them? Unlike Edgar, this man’s cock would not be flaccid when he tried to enter her. Even now, eager for battle, his cock lengthened.

  The thought of bairns, and the making of them, brought another worry. Edgar had been incapable of whoring. Somerled was young and obviously virile. He would do as he chose, with whoever he wished. She clasped her arms, hugging herself. Somerled would give her bairns and a home, and that was all that mattered.

  If he didn’t learn of her parentage.

  Could she stand without flinching if a man that size gestured near her with one of those bear-paw hands? She’d been trained to speak as instructed, to dress and sit and walk and eat as was deemed proper. Twenty years of that did not disappear with the stroke of a king’s quill. Nor did hundreds of years of hate. Her husband didn’t know why she was chosen to be his wife. Given a choice, would he agree to bed his enemy to stop a feud?

  “Put your past where it belongs, Lady Margaret,” murmured Cam. “You are the wife of an honorable man. Once Somerled makes you his wife you will be Clan, and he willna turn you aside. Nor will either of them touch another woman. Even if you refuse Niall your bed, he will be true to you.”

  An honorable man? Was there such a thing? The herald was the first she’d met.

  Margaret jumped when Somerled roared. He ran at Finn and Dougal, grabbing them both around the neck and bashing their heads together before tossing them aside. They dropped, rolled, and then sat up, rubbing their heads. Somerled lightly punched Finn on the shoulder, nodding to show his approval. In return, Finn bumped Dougal with his shoulder. Both grinned at their laird. She shook her head in amazement. There was a camaraderie here. They really were kin and behaved as such, not just men who shared a father.

  Her family believed the only way to better yourself was by bringing others down. Kindness and caring were weaknesses to be exploited. Seeing Somerled with his brothers changed everything.

  Watching him made her insides tingle. Perhaps he did know how to pleasure a woman. He had to be better than Edgar. At the very least she’d get a few minutes of a hard cock’s thrusting every sennight and would get a babe in return. Somerled’s brothers had quickly made babes so there was a good chance she would have one as well. Not only would that give her a home, the marriage would protect Hamish. If all went well, he might join her here as another, younger, brother. The MacDougals had certainly enough of them that one more shouldn’t matter.

  “Laird, ye have a visitor by the kitchen. He be friendly.”

  All three brothers looked up at the wall walk. Ewan pointed. She tried to back up, but Herald Cam stood behind her.

  “Ewan MacDougal!” roared Somerled in fury. The muscles of his huge neck strained as he tilted his head high. “Who gave ye leave to let strangers in Duncladach without yer laird’s permission?”

  “’Tis the king’s herald with a gift for ye.”

  Somerled turned toward them with an even worse scowl. He crossed his huge arms, making the muscles bulge, set his feet, and leaned back, glaring. The pose was a deliberate declaration of his power. It also put his cock front and center. Pointing at her, though she was still in the shadow. She squeezed her thighs against the strange ache.

  “What kind of gift do ye bring, herald?” he demanded.

  “A wife,” replied Cam.

  “Wife?”

  His cock bobbed. One eyebrow went up.

  “Ye can sleep in that bed now, laird!” crowed Finn.

  She knew Somerled couldn’t see her yet still trembled. His cock twitched, rising. She stared, fascinated, as it began to grow even more. Her body responded, nipples tu
rning hard.

  “Aye,” said Ewan. “She rode all day in the rain to get here. I membered what Lady Isabel said a lady needed afore ye start bellowing so I filled the tub for her. She’s washed and dried and fed, so bellow away.”

  Her husband turned his upper body toward Ewan, leaving his big feet planted. “I dinna bellow,” he bellowed. Ewan shrugged. “We will have words,” warned the laird. Ewan did not look worried.

  “Show yerselves,” ordered Somerled, turning back. “I wish to see this wife who’s so desperate for me that she’d ride in the rain.”

  “Desperate! I’ll show him—”

  “Nay, you’ll not. Wait here,” said Cam. He walked around her into the light.

  “Zounds, ’tis ye again?”

  “Laird Somerled, I bring you Lady Margaret Stewart, your wife.”

  The scowl deepened. “I dinna have time for a wife. Bring her back when the harvest’s done.”

  Furious, she tried to get past to blast him, but Cam’s arm stopped her. The two men who’d been trying to kill each other had put their shirts back on. They came to mid-thigh, covering the necessities. Barely.

  “Lady Margaret was chosen for you by King James. Do you wish to insult your liege by refusing his precious gift?”

  Somerled raised an eyebrow. He made it an insult. “That gift may make our lives a trial if she’s a weak lass who weeps and moans. How can I make strong warrior sons off a pitiful wench?”

  “Let me get my claws into him and I’ll—”

  “You are in luck, laird. For your wife doesna weep or moan. She is strong, in mind and body. As proven by the ride she took this day, and the ones afore it.”

  “Aye, well then, step forward so I can see ye.” He sighed as if it was one more task to do after a long day. “Might as well get it o’er with.”

  His bored words did not match the interest of his cock. It hardened even more, rising and thickening. Herald Cam beckoned. She shook her head.

  “Come, lass, and meet your husband and laird,” said Cam.

  “Nay,” she replied loudly. “I willna be spoken to like that.”

  Somerled’s eyes narrowed at her response. “I am the laird, and yer husband,” he replied arrogantly. “I will speak to ye as I wish.”