by Reece Butler
She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she’d done a good job of hiding her pain, but not good enough. A bright sheen of tears made her eyes glisten.
“Unless ’tis the king who demands it,” he added. “And if so I will do all I can to see she is given to a man who will treat her well.” He turned her once more toward the sea. He used his thumbs on her neck now, rubbing where her skull met the base. “Ye were married to an old man, aye?”
“Aye, at seventeen. He was sixty and unable to…” She made a motion with her hand while clearing her throat.
“To have his cock rise, stiff and proud, at the thought of ye?” He pressed harder, digging in where the muscle was tight.
“To have his cock rise at all!” She dropped her head forward, giving him access to more. “He had little to do with me until I was trained the way he wished. I was to sit and walk a certain way, hold my head just so, and sit or stand silently, perfectly still, for hours. If I twitched, I was punished.”
He grimaced, knowing she couldn’t see. “How? If ye wish to speak of it,” he added.
“When I was punished I was kept in a small, dark, cold stone cell, naked, for days. It was too small for me to lie without curling up. I’d be given one small pot of water and a bucket, and left.”
He removed his hands so he wouldn’t crush her in fury. “Jesu! Ye’re such a wee thing! Did he put ye in the prison pit?”
“Nay, for something might be said about him if he did. I was kept upstairs, so only his private staff kenned it. All thought he was a perfect gentleman.”
“If he wasna dead I would take my claymore to him and run him through.”
“If he wasna dead I’d still be with him, and mayhaps you’d have a different wife.”
“Nay, Meg. I canna think of wanting any other woman.”
She was silent for a while. “Herald Cam said you’ve met few women in your life, and bedded none. Mayhaps you would have liked any woman, just to have a wife.”
“Oh, nay, Meg. Ye are right for me, and for Duncladach.” He moved his hands to her shoulders. “Did he do that all the time, lock ye up?”
“Nay, for I learned. I was an ornament for him. I had my own wee chamber where I was to spend my time. He would leave me there and then have me dressed well, covered with his jewels, when he wished. I would be brought out and put on display like a pet dog trained to do tricks. That lasted a few years, and then he had a bout of apoplexy and was confined to his bed, unable to speak. I took over the castle and estates, and did a far better job than he.”
“I dinna doubt ye. Did his clan’s lord ken this?”
“Nay. None of the staff liked his heir, and they hoped none would ken it afore he recovered. He was starting to move and speak again when he fell. As he had no issue I was sent back to my father. And now, to you. I ken how to manage a castle well. I will do so at Duncladach.”
“I like things as they are,” he warned.
“Aye, but now you have a wife.” She stared out at the waves. He tilted his head enough to see her face was flushed. Her hands were clenched as well.
“What are ye sayin’, lass?”
“Herald Cam says you’ve not even visited elsewhere, and there’s been no lady MacDougal since you were a lad. So mayhaps some of what you think is the way it must be, ah...” She cleared her throat. “Well, there could be something better that ye dinna ken yet. Not to change, but to improve, for all.”
Meg was right. When the brothers came back from fostering they had many stories of things he’d not thought of. As they were fighting for survival he’d listened, thanked them, and then forgotten it all.
“Ye willna change Duncladach without my permission,” he warned.
She turned halfway. “Anything? Where I store the oatmeal in the kitchen is your concern?”
“Ye ken what I mean. I willna have my home disordered merely for a change.”
“Ye dinna wish there to be changes, or things to happen that have never been done afore?”
He shook his head.
“But you drank wine last night, too much of it. I found a pair of your drunk brothers rolled up under the table.”
“Neither has happened afore, and willna happen again. So ye willna be bangin’ pots again,” he warned.
“Husband,” she said, far too sweetly, “ye just told me there’d be no need.” She set her jaw. “But if there is, I will wake them as I choose. And you as well if you are with them.”
He didn’t reply. There was no need. He would not get drunk, so she would not think of pots. The wind played with her golden hair, making it billow behind her, playing peekaboo with her arse. Her well-rounded arse, which she’d enjoyed having his finger in. Soon it would be his cock. She would need more wine for that, perhaps.
“Yer hair is like silk,” he murmured. “And yer skin is so soft.” She held her hands to her sides, palms facing him.
“Not all of me,” she said. “I have calluses.”
He stepped behind her, almost touching. He looked over her shoulder. A lovely pair of breasts blushed in the sun.
“Turn so I can see ye,” he ordered.
She bit her lip and took a moment, but finally turned. She lifted her hands to cover herself.
“Nay,” he ordered. “Ye willna hide yerself from me, or Niall. Hold yer hands out like ye just did.”
She blushed harder but did so. He looked closely. Her nipples were a different color in the sun, surrounded by wee bumps. Her full breasts rose and fell on her chest as she breathed. He wished to see a babe suckling at her engorged breasts within the year. And once the babe was full, he would have a taste. He had to savor every part of her.
He liked the way her belly rounded. That, too, would grow. He wasn’t sure what a belly full of a babe looked like without a gown, but it didn’t matter. She would be beautiful, for she’d be carrying their bairn. She shifted her feet. The golden haze covering her pussy glistened in the sun. Glistened? Was she wet? Did showing herself like this for him make her eager for his cock?
“Do you wish me to show you my letters now?” she asked.
“Nay, I wish ye to show me what yer tongue and lips can do.” He didn’t mention his cock. He would leave it up to her. This time. But first he must wash. “Wait here,” he said. “I will wash in the sea.” He kissed the top of her head. “Dinna cover yourself,” he warned.
He couldn’t run with an erect cock. It felt strange even walking with one though it was a feeling he was willing to get used to. The cold water cleared his head. He didn’t go far, having more important things to do. His cock had shrunk in the cold, so he ran back to her. Though he’d seemed to turn away he’d watched to see if she followed his orders. At one point she’d lifted her arms, and then dropped them. It did not look as if she was covering herself as much as perhaps crossing her arms, unhappy that she had to wait for him.
“Do you feel better?”
“Aye,” he replied. “And likely smell better as well.”
“May I touch you?”
He’d not expected that. His cock thickened, rising to salute her. She stared at it as if fascinated. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips unconsciously. Her hot little hand tried to circle his cock but he was too big, so she used both. He made fists to keep himself from reaching for her as her hands explored him.
Then she dropped to her knees and took his tip in her mouth.
“Jesu!” He grimaced as her hot tongue flicked against him. He could barely hold himself back from coming. She slipped her lips over him and suckled. “That’s it!”
He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as he’d seen Gillis do with Fiona. She squawked, so he swatted her arse. Her squawk got louder, but her scent grew stronger. He carried her to his plaid nest. He flipped her around to lay her on her back. She eagerly opened her knees to him. She was hot and wet, uncomplaining as she knew what he could do with her.
Somerled lay on his belly and licked and sucked, playing with her clit until she w
as gasping and pleading. He then turned her onto her hands and knees, placed his cock at her pussy and, fighting to keep control, entered her in slow thrusts. He leaned his chest over her, his cock deep, his balls tight under her pussy. He grasped her breast with his left hand and used his right to find her clit. He kept up the slow thrusts as Niall had done it with her so successfully.
“Is this what ye want?” he demanded.
“It’ll do for now,” she said, panting between each word.
He almost laughed, choking it back. The tight pussy clenching his cock proved she was as eager as he. He tugged at her nipple while rubbing her clit. She shivered but didn’t come. He could barely hold on. He nipped the side of her neck. She grabbed him with her pussy, coming hard. He took hold of her hips and yanked her to him while thrusting forward. Their wet slaps sounded much like waves on mud. God! It felt good. His seed exploded from him in a hot rush.
“Mine!” he roared.
A seagull that had come close cried and banked away. He tilted his head back and laughed, choking as the end of his orgasm left him breathless. He flopped to his left side with Meg, holding her tight, his cock still sheathed in her. When he could breathe he shuffled them until he was flat with Meg on top. After his breathing had returned to normal he looked at the woman splayed across his chest. He needed another swim. This time he would share it.
“Time for a swim.”
She stiffened. Her head came up. “Swim?” She gulped. “Nay.”
He raised an admonishing eyebrow. “Aye,” he said deliberately. “All MacDougals swim. We are near the sea, and ye may fall out of a boat.”
“I willna go in a boat, so there’s no need.”
Now he saw fear. “What ails ye, lass?”
“I dinna like the water.”
“’Twas yerself who said ye’d go to the water and write.”
“Standing with my toes in wet sand is fine. Going past my ankles…” She shook her head. “Nay.”
He lifted his head an inch to emphasize his words. “All. MacDougals. Swim. And as ye are Lady MacDougal, ye will swim.”
“Please!”
“Nay. There may be a day when ye must escape in a boat. Mayhaps ye’ll need to run into the water and swim around to the next bay to save yerself. I’ll not have ye die because of a wee bit of fear.”
She held him tighter, rubbing her head into him as if to disappear. “’Tis more than a wee bit of fear,” she admitted in a whisper. “’Tis a terror.”
He wrapped her in his arms, partly to hold her from bolting and partly just to hold her. “Lass,” he warned, “ye willna win this. I will have ye swim. ’Twill take a few lessons, but ye’ll start this day.”
She looked up, her expression pleading. He shook his head. She dropped her forehead on his chest. He felt her tremors. She was a strong woman, inside and out. That she feared so much could mean it had been done to her by those she trusted.
“Who were they, and what did they do to ye?” he asked quietly. “Yer brothers?”
He waited patiently. It was a test, for both of them. She tested if he would give her the time she needed or demand she speak, sloughing off her fears. Finally, she sighed.
“I told ye I was the only lass with many older brothers. I’d been kept inside with my mother, but when she died there was none to watch for me, so I ran with them in breeks and a shirt. One day they decided I should swim. They’d learned over time, but I had not. I thought nothing of it as we were all knee-deep, all naked, splashing and laughing.”
“How old were ye?”
“Six or seven. The third eldest threw me into the deep water. I didna wish to be called a weepy lassie so hid my fear. I thought if I put my feet down I could stand as they did. But I was too short. My feet wouldna touch. I panicked, water all in my mouth and nose. They weren’t watching, but I was able to paddle with my hands close enough for my toes to just barely touch. I thought ’twas over. They thought it funny to toss me out again. And again.”
She bit her lip. He waited for her shaking to stop.
“When I didn’t come up the last time one of them realized our father would be angry, so he hauled me in. I dinna remember that, just the terror as they laughed at me, the cold water closing over my head, unable to breathe.”
His brothers had spoken of such things from when they were fostered. Cormac and James said William of Braal was the same, a vicious torturing beast who loved to terrorize those weaker. Many were pleased when Lady Alana Sinclair helped him die in a particularly nasty way. She’d conquered her demons by hastening the man’s death. Meg had to do it a different way.
“We canna have ye scared,” he said.
“So you’ll leave me be?”
“Nay, I shall teach ye to swim.” She shook in his arms, silently terrified. “I willna toss ye in,” he promised. “I didna do that to my brothers, either. Ye must face yer fear and conquer it. But I’ll be with ye all the way.”
It was her silence, and stillness, that got to him. She didn’t beg or plead. She curled herself tight, accepting that he’d force her to do whatever he wished, even if it terrified her. Did she think he wanted to see her this way?
“’Twill give ye fear for a bit, lass, but I wish ye to be safe here, and that means kenning the water.”
“I have nay choice,” she answered dully. “Like them, you are strong enough to do whatever you wish to me. Whether you toss me in, or carry me, ’tis the same.”
Somerled counted, slowly, until the rage passed. Not at her, but her kin for terrorizing her. He was nothing like them, other than in size. Her brothers were selfish bullies, as was her first husband. This was something else she must learn this day.
“’Tis not the same, Meg. I am yer husband, and am well pleased to be so,” he murmured. “’Tis my joy to hold ye, to protect ye, and to share my life and all I have with ye.” The pulse in her neck no longer beat so frantically. “Can ye believe I wish ye to live long and give us many healthy bairns?”
After a moment she nodded. “You need heirs.”
He counted again, this time to twenty. “Nay, I dinna need heirs for I have three pairs of brothers living at Duncladach.” He kissed her temple. “’Tis yer babes I wish to dangle on my knee, yers from me and Niall. And for that to happen, ye need to be alive. I am a selfish man. I want ye, so willna let ye drown.”
He waited, forcing himself to hold her gently rather than crushing her to him so she’d see how much he needed her to believe him.
“They didna let me drown,” said Meg after a moment. “They wished to prove they held all the power, including that of denying me my life.”
The wild, exciting woman who’d shared their bed was gone. So was the demanding one who’d delighted to wake his drunken brothers with thunderclaps. She lay against him, limp. She hadn’t spoken above a whisper, as if she had no hope. Her chin quivered until she gritted her teeth to stop it.
Fear could be overcome. A lack of hope was something else. There had to be something she could look forward to. She’d run her first husband’s land and done it well. He could offer to have her advise him. In private.
No, he would not use that as a lure. She had to trust herself, first.
“I ken ye have much courage,” he said. “Ye rode here, alone but with that herald, yer head high. Ye are a strong-minded, stubborn woman, Meg. That’s good, as I didna wish a weak, puling lass for a wife. Use that courage and stubbornness to get past yer fears.”
She twitched, more like a shrug as if it was nothing. He brushed her hair behind one ear, trailing his fingers over her cheek. A small sigh, like one she’d given him the night before, heartened him.
“Will ye trust me to help, wee Meggie?”
Chapter Twelve
Could she trust Somerled?
Though she lay on his warm body Meg shook with cold dread. She wasn’t afraid of being dead. It was drowning that terrified her. The cold water in her mouth and nose, unable to breathe, seeing the light close over her face, lungs b
urning and knowing she would die.
And then they’d lift her, coughing and choking and crying. They’d tug her to shore her until her toes touched. When she’d caught her breath they’d toss her out again, jeering at her screams. Again. And again, until she’d given up, knowing when she died the pain of living would be over.
Somerled would not do that to her. He was a practical man and she was no use to him dead, or too terrified to work.
He would do anything for his brothers, and their clan. Yes, he wanted the babes she could give him. He, and Niall, would be good fathers. But he wanted her babes for his precious clan. She was but a means to an end. Practical, all the way.
A practical husband was better than a bully, though she’d longed for something more. Last night, she thought she’d found it.
“Meg, ye must trust yer laird to do the best for ye.”
“For the clan,” she corrected, her voice creaking.
“Aye, for the clan, which is all of us. Including yerself, now.”
He ran his fingers through her hair. To soothe her, or himself? He silently continued, long enough that she relaxed.
She was also practical. He needed her, to manage Duncladach as well as to provide the MacDougal clan’s next generation. Last night he’d made her laugh, and then scream from a pleasure she’d not known existed. Could she get past her terror for more of that?
“My father had sixteen sons,” said Somerled. “He wasna a good laird, or a good father. Many a winter we nearly starved, even after I took over. Though I was just a lad, I vowed to keep us all alive.” His fingers slowly combed her hair. “I still have fifteen brothers, Meg. A MacDougal doesna break a vow.”
They’d lived because Somerled had done everything he could to keep them alive. He’d feared for them, yet hidden it. He didn’t say it, but she saw it in the lines of worry around his eyes, bracketing his lips, and creasing his forehead.
“And now,” he continued softly, “I have a wife. Just one. My wee Meggie.” He lifted his head to kiss her forehead. “God willing, ye’ll bear the next Laird MacDougal. Aye, I will do what is best for the clan over each person in it. But in this, what is best for the clan is that my Meg, our Lady MacDougal, is safe.”
