by Reece Butler
“I willna be safe in the water.”
“If ye are alone, nay. But I will hold ye as long as ye wish. We will try, again and again, until ye dinna fear it. Even if it takes years. This, I vow.”
Though his words were soft she heard the steel beneath.
“Do ye wish yer brothers to have this control over ye?” he asked. “If ye dinna conquer this fear they’ll always be linked in yer mind with water. Look around, Meg. We are surrounded by the sea. Do ye wish to look at it, remembering what they did to ye?”
“Nay,” she whispered. “I wish to forget them.”
“Then will ye trust me to help ye win over them?”
Could she? He was her laird, and her husband. He held so much power over her. He could have forced her into the water but he was asking her to trust him to help her. It showed so much of the man she’d married.
“You are asking me, not ordering me to obey you.”
He must have sensed her acceptance as his wrinkles eased. “Ordering ye to face yer fear willna banish it. Ye may do it in front of me but yer terror will grow. And then ye’d fear me, as well.”
Somerled was nothing like her kin. He did not want her to fear him, but to trust. He listened to her, and understood. She swallowed hard. He was allowing her to take charge of her life. With his help, she would conquer this.
“I dinna fear you, Somerled.”
It was his turn to exhale heavily. He brushed his fingers through her hair again. She realized he did it to soothe himself, but it helped her as well. She had a faint memory of her mother tenderly brushing her hair, but it was fleeting. After her death nursemaids jerked hard to get the job done and move on to the next.
“Ah, wee Meggie, ye have no idea how much yer trust means to me.”
“I said I didna fear you. I dinna trust anyone,” she admitted.
“And why would ye after what’s been done to ye?” He squeezed her gently. “That’s behind ye now. Ye are safe as I protect what’s mine.”
She did feel safe on Somerled’s chest. If she hadn’t felt safe last night, or just now, she couldn’t have enjoyed his touch.
“Who do you trust?” she asked.
“I trust every one of my brothers with my life. And with yers, for they’ll protect their lady if I am dead.”
She didn’t want to think of death. She wanted to live. And that meant conquering herself.
“Even Finn and Dougal?”
“Aye. They will laugh and play the fool when they can, but when ye woke them this morn they went to the fields to work with our clansmen.”
Her brothers and cousins would never think of working at all unless they were ordered to by their laird. As for hard labor under a hot sun with a head swollen from drink… She mentally shook her head. The MacDougal brothers respected Somerled, and themselves.
“I trust Niall totally as he is part of me. I am laird to my brothers and raised them, so ken them well. I trust they will follow my orders, even if they dinna agree.” He looked straight at her without speaking, another warning that he made the rules and she must follow. “I dinna ken what ’tis like to be alone. All of us twins share a link. Any strong feeling, such as pain or pleasure—” he waggled his eyebrows at her “—the other will feel.”
A flash of need had her clenching her empty pussy. “Niall kens what we’ve just done?”
“Aye, and if ye are dallying with him while I work, I will ken it.”
Another warning, telling her not to touch his twin? She was just learning about these men. Her father and brothers were simple, making it obvious what they wanted. Edgar played nasty games, but she knew whatever he did was for his own benefit. These men were different. They cared about one another, which made them far more complicated. That made it difficult to anticipate what they were thinking, or might do.
“Will ye mind? If Niall wishes to play, I mean.”
“Nay, lass. Dinna fret.” He smoothed her brow, then kissed it. “I wished to have ye first as I am yer husband and laird. Now ye are free to enjoy yerself with my twin, and with me, as ye choose.”
“Thank you.” She relaxed against him. “I like your brothers.”
“Even Finn and Dougal?”
“Aye. So far. If they tromp mud all over my clean floors I may box them about the ears and deny them any sweet.”
His eyes lit up. “Sweet, ye say? Sweeter than this?”
He pulled her toward him. She met his lips eagerly, this time attacking him with her tongue before he had a chance. He growled in the back of his throat and took over. When they broke to breathe she pushed on his shoulders, sitting up on his belly to inhale. His eyes flashed a warning a second before he grasped her hips and lifted. She squeaked in surprise.
“Ride me, Meg.” he ordered.
“Ride you?”
“Sit yer puss on my cock. Let it fill ye and rub yer wee clit while I play with these beauties.”
Ride him, sitting on top, in control? She eagerly reached behind and grabbed his cock. He slowly lowered her as she guided him into her heat. She hummed as she sank down, her flesh still swollen and wet from their earlier play. It hadn’t been long since, but he was hard and she was needy.
“God, lass, that feels so good!”
“I didna think men could get hard again so fast.”
“I went without all my life, and now I canna get enough of ye.” He frowned. “Mayhaps ye are too sore?”
She settled her bottom, clenching him. He inhaled a hiss, his eyes blazing. She set her hands on his chest, her thumbs massaging his nipples.
“I told ye, though I’ve not much experience with hard cocks, I was no virgin. Though this…” She dropped her belly to rub her clit against his hard pelvic bone. “This pleasure is new to me.” She rocked back and forth, his hands guiding her. “What of my breasts?”
A strangled chuckle emerged from him, making her bounce. He released her hips, rolling and tugging her nipples as she rode him, forgetting where they were, forgetting all but the pleasure he gave her, and the pleasure she took. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sun. It felt glorious on her body. So free! He released one of her nipples. She glared down at him. He smirked.
“Mayhaps ye’d like some of this.” His finger played with her pussy before sliding up between her back cheeks.
“What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?” He gave her a hard look to say she might be on top but he was in control. “Remember, wife, I do what I choose to ye as long as it doesna harm ye. And now I choose to do this.”
His knuckle twisted, teasing and tantalizing.
“Do ye like that?” he asked, again the caring lover.
“So far, aye, but I dinna ken what ’twill lead to.” He pinched her nipple hard. She gasped, clenching him in response. His knuckle went deeper, not enough to breach her, but to arouse.
“Niall and I will play with ye here. We’ll get some sweet oil and one day, when ye are ready, one of our cocks will fill ye.”
She froze, her heart thundering. His giant cock, there? “Nay,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he replied. “With care, and time, ye’ll see that pleasure can be found from more than yer wee puss.”
Though doing such a thing should repulse her, she shivered in anticipation.
“I never kenned the like! Is there more?”
“Aye. One day ye’ll ride one of us like this while the other enters yer arse. And on that day, the three of us will be one.”
Meg saw it in her head. Four hands playing with her, two cocks giving her pleasure. She shuddered as her orgasm hit. She cried out, slamming back and forth on him. His hands grabbed her hips and took over, changing the angle. She sat up, arms wide, and let him take her. Use her. Pleasure her. He roared, erupting into her.
“Somerled!”
When it was over she collapsed on his chest, boneless. Smiling. Her laird husband had taken her, hard. Yet it had been what she wanted. They might not have chosen each other, but it didn’t matter
. A wiggle of worry slipped in. What if he learned who he was bedding? She’d never do a thing to harm them, but would they believe her? They had to. Surely Somerled and his brothers would understand she was innocent of whatever her kin had done to them.
Margaret Sinclair Campbell no longer existed. She was Meg MacDougal, wife to Somerled and Niall. God willing, she would be mother of their many children. Though maybe not sixteen of them…
“After that, we need a wee swim.”
Chapter Thirteen
Somerled was up and moving, his woman snug in his arms, before she could roll off him and run. She struggled though she had no chance of escaping.
“I dinna wish to go in the sea!”
“Ye have nay choice in this, wife. Ye will learn to put those fears behind ye. What happened long ago is in the past, and ye must look forward into the future.”
“Someone will see me!”
“Ye didna mind that when ye sat on my cock, arms wide like a bird, and sang my name so sweetly. Or mayhaps it was more of a screech. Methinks they heard you in Duart Castle.”
She stopped fighting him. “Where’s that?”
“Isle of Mull, right across the firth, south of the Isle of Lismore. If ye squint ye can see the castle.”
“Nay!”
He looked down. Her face was white, eyes wide and forehead crinkled with worry.
“Dinna fash, Meg. The Macleans are allies. They’ll be pleased to hear the Chief of the MacDougals has a bride.”
She closed her eyes and groaned. “I dinna care if they be friend or foe. I dinna wish any to ken what we share.”
“Ye screamed my name so loud it echoed off Duncladach’s wall so ye canna pretend naught happened,” he declared proudly. “Aye, and there was yer wee scream of joy when I took ye from behind. Mayhaps we just made our first babe. And now I shall wash ye in the sea.”
She stiffened, not from embarrassment, but from fear. Could he keep it away by making her think of something else?
“I dinna think the Macleans can see us,” he said, peering over the water.
“Tell me they dinna ken what we did,” she whispered. “Nor yer brothers or villagers.”
“This side of the land has wee beaches with headlands atween us and the village, so they shoulda ken it. Duncladach’s curtain wall is eleven feet thick and there’s no wall walk on this side, so the lads should nay have heard or seen what we did.”
She looked over her shoulder, straining. “Surely ’tis too far for the Macleans to see.”
He almost felt like smiling as he splashed into the water. He went as far as his thighs, thankful it was calm with the tide going out.
“Aye, but they may have one of them spyglasses. And sound does travel well over water.”
She struggled once more. “Hide me!”
“Best if ye get under the water fast. With ye rolled toward me like this they canna see yer lovely tits, but yer arse sticks out—”
“Somerled!”
He dropped to sit, holding her tight. The water came to his ribs, just over her breasts. She took a death grip on his neck with both arms. She trembled, her head tucked into the curve of his neck.
“There, lass,” he murmured. “The worst is done. Ye are in the sea, and safe in my arms. Now if ye could let me breathe…”
“Oh!” Her head lifted. She looked around, saw they were close to shore, and he could inhale again.
“Thank ye. We’ll sit here a wee bit ’til ye get used to the waves.” He waited, his grip snug so she would feel safe, until she relaxed enough to stop shaking. “Feels good to have ye in my arms.”
“It’s cold!”
“Aye, which will make the air feel warm when ye get out.”
“Can I get out now?”
She sounded like a child, and was the size of one. Yet the way she bit her lip with her head bowed, eyes looking up, beseeching him, was all woman. He now understood why men did crazy things for the women who’d twisted them around her finger. Some of his brothers had been hurt by women playing vicious games. And his uncles…
“Dinna give me that look, lass,” he warned. Her confusion seemed honest. “I said ye’d learn to swim, but today all ye’ll do is float.”
“Ye willna let me go?”
“I will hold ye safe as long as ye wish.” She bit her lip again. “Ye can trust a MacDougal to keep his word.”
“I’m a MacDougal now, too.”
In the sun her eyes were the color of well-aged whiskey. Her lips tasted even better. He tested with a wee sip, just to make sure. Her sigh as she opened to him made him groan. His cock hardened even though he’d just come twice and was chest-deep in cold water.
There was no doubt, this woman was his. His and Niall’s.
“Are ye frightened?” he asked. “I wish to walk farther out so ye can float.”
“Aye, but I trust ye.”
He stood, carrying her out to the level of his ribs. If she put her toes down her chin would be out of water. “Let go of me, Meg. I’ll have my arms under yer back and yer knees. Ye must relax afore ye can float.”
She locked her eyes on him. After a moment she slowly let go of his neck and straightened her body. At first he held her so she rested on his forearms. As she relaxed, so did he. He smiled encouragingly at her. She returned it. He lowered his arms, so slowly that she never noticed. He kept them an inch below her, just in case.
“Ye are floating, Meg.”
Her eyes widened, she squawked, and floundered. He caught her before water went in her mouth and held her at the surface once more.
“Now ye ken ye can do it, so try again. The hardest part is relaxing.” He eyed her luscious body. “’Tis a lot easier to float when ye have a good size arse and tits.”
“It is?”
“Aye. Will ye let me tilt ye so yer toes touch?” She nodded, so he let go of her feet, holding her ribs snug. Her breasts floated rather than dropping to her chest as they would on land. She looked down, delighted.
“They float!”
“Aye. Bounce on yer toes and see what happens.”
She did, going up and down, by her choice with his hands on her ribs. She slipped and he caught her before water went in her mouth. He held her still. She looked in his eyes, fear and pleading showing. Would she beg him to take her out?
“Hold me,” she said.
He squeezed her ribs in promise. She closed her eyes and mouth and sank. He thought she’d stop at her chin but she kept going. Her whole head was under water! He counted. One. Two. She bobbed up again, her face radiant. She raised her arms and leaped. He ducked so she could catch him around the neck.
“I did it! Thank you!”
He held her tight, hiding his face and the tears of pride that threatened to fall.
“Nay, lass, I thank ye for trusting me, and yerself. Ye are a brave woman. I got ye in the water, but ’twas yerself what kept going.”
“I want to do it again.” She struggled to get loose. “Don’t hold on, but don’t go far.”
She was turning blue when Somerled hauled her out of the sea. He wrapped her in his plaid, leaving her wet hair to dangle and drip behind. He set her dress on top so it wouldn’t get ruined with the salt water. He thought he might get her floating. She’d done far more on her own with him standing near.
“I am proud of ye, Meg. What’s it like to be free of that fear?”
She grinned up at him. “I feel more alive now, more in control of my life.”
He did not remind her she was under his control. There’d be time for that when she had a better sense of her place as Lady MacDougal.
He carried her to where Niall waited, his back to them. His twin turned, grinned, and set his claymore back in its baldric. He’d known, the way twins did, that Niall guarded them while he played with Meg. He nodded his thanks.
“Ye canna have yer wits about ye while ye play with our wife,” said Niall.
“Did you watch?” blurted Meg.
Her face was less blu
e now. Embarrassment and arousal would warm her more quickly than clothes. Niall smirked.
“Are ye asking if I watched my twin take ye like a stallion, and then ye ride him? Aye, I did. And I wish to do the same to ye.”
She struggled, but he’d wrapped her well. “If I could get a hand free I would tweak your nose for that!”
Niall captured one of her ankles. He tweaked her toe. “Ye need all that salt water washed off yer soft skin and out of yer hair. I put water on to heat. Do ye wish a bath, my lady?” She stopped struggling. “I saw ye floating and dunking out there,” he said seriously. “Ye should be proud of yerself. A bath will warm ye up, aye?”
“Thank you. The sea is cold.”
“I bet the Maclean lad holding the spyglass at Duart is nay chilled,” said Niall. He laughed when she sputtered.
“Why, you…!” She fought even harder to escape. Somerled flipped her around and tossed his wrapped bundle over his shoulder.
“What are you—”
He swatted her arse, interrupting her words, which changed to a squeal. He easily held her down with his hand.
“Husband, Herald Cam told me about Lady Isabel giving you a spring tonic. I ken how to do the same!”
His gut tightened in memory. He stopped walking. “Now, wife, ye are nay threatening me, are ye?” She went still for a moment.
“Why no,” she said much too sweetly. “I would never threaten my laird husband.”
“For it wouldna be a threat if ye meant to carry it out, aye?” asked Niall.
Her silence was the answer. He and Niall shared a thought, confirming with a nod. His cock jolted in anticipation.
“I ken what our wife needs to warm her up,” said Somerled. He patted her arse to show what he meant.
“Dinna threaten me with that, husband!”
“’Tis nay a threat.” He swatted her even harder. “Is the kitchen empty?”
“Aye, even Shadow is out on the wall walk with Ewan,” answered Niall.
Somerled started forward. Meg’s struggles and squeals, and her pleading, would not stop this. She had threatened the laird, and her husband, with harm. That he could not tolerate. She needed to know, wholly and completely, who was in charge.
