by Reece Butler
He shook his head. He was in charge of her. He wouldn’t say the words, but he would show her. He took her breasts in his hands. She was so soft! His callused fingers rasped over her, feeling the bumps around her nipples before they hit the center of his palms. He squeezed, then lifted. He bent and licked underneath one, then the other, tasting her salt.
She arched her back, silently demanding more. He put his left arm at her back to support her. His right went between her legs. She cried out at his touch. She was soaking, swollen, and as needy as he. They’d said the words, made the agreement. They could jump a stick later.
He set her on the edge of the table. She grabbed his cock, guiding him to her entrance. He hissed when she squeezed him with her fist.
“Please, Duff!”
Knowing it had been a long time for her, he eased slowly in. They both watched his thick cock part her swollen lips. Hot she was, and wet, and—God! She’d grabbed his cock from inside!
The table was too full to lie her on her back. He picked her up by the waist.
“Wrap yer ankles behind me,” he ordered.
Her face cleared as comprehension dawned. She held onto his shoulders. He knew she was tight but this first time was something exquisite to remember forever. Inch after inch he cleaved her until their groins touched. She sighed while he groaned, deep and guttural. She clasped her ankles and squeezed, grinding herself against him. She tried to move quickly but his hands controlled her hips. She pouted at him.
“My cock, my way,” he reminded her.
When her pout disappeared he lifted her and began a slow, torturous in and out motion. He’d not known a woman could grasp him from inside. It took every ounce of control to hold back from pounding her the way she wanted.
This time he would not pull out. For the first time ever his seed would reach the womb of a woman. His woman, and wife. When he came, she would be his forever.
Her groan turned into a shriek. Her pussy clamped down on him as she shattered. He’d never felt such power or joy. He could no longer hold back.
“Mine!” he roared as his cock filled her with his seed, pumping again and again.
He staggered, barely able to breathe. His legs shook, as did his arms. His brain squeaked in time with his heart. He saw a bench and collapsed, staying deep within her. Kiera clung to him like a limpet. He held her as tight.
“Kiera, I dinna wish to leave ye, in another moon or ten thousand years. I have little—”
“I dinna care. As long as I have you, ‘tis all I need.”
Their hearts pounded against each other. He didn’t know how long they clung, nor did he care. He was with his woman. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter Seven
“Ah, laddie. Are ye settlin’ in then?”
“Aye, Laird MacKenzie,” replied Malcolm formally. “‘Tis an honor to learn from ye, and yer men.”
He’d arrived at Castle Leod in time to meet his brothers Cormac and James before they left for Caithness. They’d showed him around and told him a few things to ease his way. Then they’d brought him out where the men were training and both brothers had attacked him. He’d done well considering he wasn’t used to fighting two to one without Duff at his side.
“I watched ye train. Ye still leave yerself open. Used to fighting with yer twin, aye? Got a fair few bruises?”
Malcolm winced, making the laird chuckle. He didn’t have to reply. He didn’t know where Duff had been sent, or why. He did know Duff was with an amenable woman as Malcolm got a hard cock each time Duff bedded the lass. The first time had caught him by surprise. Luckily he’d been sitting at a table with his brothers having an after-battle ale. His instantly hard cock had been hidden by the table. He’d barely slept that night as neither had Duff, nor the woman he was with. The next morning he’d put a stone in his sporran to hold it down. It made it less likely he’d be noticed when Duff went at it again. And again. He refused to use his hand to solve the problem. He was not a man to be ruled by his cock.
“Are ye thinkin’ on where I sent yer twin?”
MacKenzie continued carving without looking up. Malcolm thought the block of wood might one day resemble a duck. Or a dog.
“Did ye tell Duff to bed a lass, again and again?”
MacKenzie’s hands stopped. His bushy eyebrows lowered. “Why do ye say that?”
He hadn’t denied it. Malcolm shifted uncomfortably. The bruises from training made it even more difficult to sleep. He wasn’t at his best for sharing wits with the old man.
“We’re twins, Laird MacKenzie. We can sense if the other’s in pain, battle, or…”
“Or tuppin’ a woman?”
“Aye.” He grimaced. “Duff’s been having a right fine time these last few days and nights.”
“Good!” A wide grin lit MacKenzie’s face. “I sent yer twin to seduce a widow. As he’s not at my gate sayin’ she cried nay I thought ‘twas well. So he’s making a bairn with her, aye?”
“No MacDougal will create a bastard,” replied Malcolm coldly.
“I ken it. ‘Tis why I told him to handfast the lass and then put a babe in her belly.”
Malcolm was definitely too tired for this. Duff and his woman had spent most the night playing. It made Malcolm so hard he couldn’t sleep. He’d just drift off when they’d start up again. He’d had a full day of training on top of it.
“I was told we were sent from Duncladach to learn.”
“Are ye learnin’ from my men?” MacKenzie waited for Malcolm’s brief nod. “Well then. And Duff is learnin’ what a man needs to keep his wife in good spirits.” He cocked an eye at Malcolm. “Especially a wife like this one. She’s a widow, and fractious, so hard to marry off. I promised her mother I’d find her a husband, but no MacKenzie will have her. Methinks the two of ye will do my wee Kiera well.”
“Your wee Kiera…?” He’d heard the name. “Ye wish us to marry the MacKenzie Shrew?”
MacKenzie’s expression went hard. He pointed the blade at Malcolm. “There is no ‘wish’ to it, laddie, and Kiera willna be a shrew if ye treat her right.” He gave an abrupt nod, a warning. “Duff’s handfasted with Kiera and will give her a babe. And then ye’ll wed her with my priest.”
Marriage to a laird’s daughter meant they’d always have a roof overhead and enough food that they’d not starve. He’d heard Kiera had a dowry, one that included a tower. He’d always wanted a home but had thought more on the lines of a croft. He didn’t object to marriage, especially if it brought him what he’d dreamed of. He did not like being forced into something he’d had no say in. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood tall. Though he was the eleventh son of a small clan he would not cower. It helped that he was a fair few inches taller than the laird.
“I’ve heard Kiera refuses to obey a husband. Duff and I willna tolerate a woman like that. Why would she agree to marrying us?”
MacKenzie bared his teeth. His blade sliced deep into the wood. A chunk flew out, hard enough to make a loud snap when it hit the stone wall. He glowered at Malcolm, then sighed, slumping from a furious laird to a concerned father.
“I ken that.” He ran his hand, dirk and all, through his bushy hair. The hand shook, just a bit. “‘Tis why I sent for ye. Yer brothers Cormac and James are bastards with a feisty wife. Alana’s the daughter of the Earl of Caithness, yet they hold their heads high.” His lip twitched in one corner. “The lass is strong-willed, with a good scream. They listen to her, and then decide what to do. And if she doesna like it, well…” At that point he grinned. “Alana is learning to obey. So will Kiera.”
Malcolm remembered every word Gillis and Angus had said about being married to Fiona. Cormac and James had listened as well.
“They spank her.”
“Aye. And they dinna care who hears.” He stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it. “The lass has a pair of lungs on her to wake the dead!”
“And ye wish us to teach yer daughter, the shrew with a viper tongue, to obey?”
“If she’s turned down every offer of marriage she may do the same now.”
“She’ll do what her laird tells her!” MacKenzie’s fierce expression faded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I promised the lass, and her mother, that she could choose her own husband,” he admitted. He shook out his shoulders. “Never said I’d nay trick her into doing what she’ll thank me for later. Ye said Duff’s already bedded her, more than a few times. ‘Tis too late for her to cry nay. MacDougals are known for keeping their word.” He gave a brisk nod. “Ye’ll do it.”
“What of my laird? Somerled may not agree.”
MacKenzie smirked. “He already has, laddie.” He pointed at the table with his blade. “Read it yerself, if ye can.”
“I can,” he replied proudly. Somerled had made sure they all learned their letters and sums, though a few of his brothers hadn’t gone much past that. He looked at the parchment, realizing it was the one he’d carried from Duncladach.
“Marriage contract between Kiera MacKenzie of Kintail and Malcolm MacDougal of Duncladach,” he read.
It was signed by lairds Kenneth MacKenzie and Somerled MacDougal, though MacKenzie had used an 'X'. There were more pages that would give details of her dowry and what would happen if she was widowed or divorced, or if he was killed. The details didn’t matter as the contract was signed. He, and Duff, had no say. Neither did Kiera, of course.
MacDougals had little but pride and integrity. Once an oath was made they would die before breaking it. He gave a brisk nod. “Does Duff ken who she is?”
MacKenzie shook his head. “I said she was a sharp-tongued widow who no MacKenzie would have. He thinks she has a croft and a wee plot of land in the village. He said ye’d be pleased at that.”
“Will he tell her we’re twins and will share her? I canna abide lies.”
MacKenzie’s slate gray eyes went as cold as the sea in January. No doubt all knelt in fear before his fury. Malcolm didn’t back down, guessing the laird would accept a man who stood up to him as long as he did it with respect. Sure enough, the laird grunted, his ire fading.
“‘Tis nay as much a lie as helpin’ wee Kiera see she needs a pair of strong husbands.”
“Helping her see? And what would happen if I helped ye see the same way?”
The grin Malcolm received was wide and totally without humor. “None but King James gives orders to the Lord of Kintail. If ye were foolish enough to try ye’d find yerself in one of my dungeons.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s a good one at Eilean Donan in Localsh. Deep it is, and damp. The MacRaes will keep ye there, hungry and shiverin’ with the cold as long as I wish it. Though mayhaps ye’d think it like home. ‘Tis said Duncladach is cold and damp and ye MacDougals are ever hungry.”
MacKenzie wasn’t far off. Duncladach got bitterly cold when the winter gales swept up the Firth of Lorn and around the Isle of Kerrera. Some of his brothers had been fostered to wealthy clans, educated, fed, clothed, and housed well. The rest of them made do with oatmeal gruel and fish, huddling together for warmth. By fostering with the lairds of clan Cameron and Sinclair his four next older brothers had allowed those left behind to have a bit more food. They’d also made good contacts, which had led to Malcolm and Duff being invited here.
They’d vowed to each that should they ever find a wife, they would not raise their sons and daughters in cold and hunger. Marrying Kiera would make sure of it.
“My laird signed yer contract. We’ll nay cry off.”
“Do ye wish to ken where ye’ll be living with my lass?”
Malcolm spread his hands, arms wide as a bishop. “We will go where we are sent, or stay here as yer men.”
MacKenzie looked at him, thinking something that made Malcolm’s guts churn. He made a decision and nodded.
“Ye’ll hear of this like as not, so I’ll tell ye now. Kiera has a wee tower that needs a laird. That would be yerself, with Duff as yer steward.”
Malcolm’s heart stopped, then pounded. He stared at MacKenzie, unmoving. He was to be a laird? He’d wished for a croft, thinking even that was too much for more than a dream. Of course, the tower would be small, and old. What did MacKenzie demand in return, and what would this do to Kiera?
Unlike in England, a Scottish woman had the right to say aye or nay to marriage. Most agreed with their parents or guardians. If not, there were ways to get a woman to change her mind, and priests who would do what their overlord said. Once a woman was married her husband could lock her up so none would know whether she had agreed or not, or what else he did to her. He’d heard Kiera had a sharp tongue and had learned strategies to rule as well as a man. Many would beat her for insolence and lock her away.
He, however, was a MacDougal. He would not force her to accept him. He stood tall in his old, ragged plaid, oft-mended shirt, and battered brogues.
“Duff can woo lassies, making them laugh. ‘Tis nay my way, and so lasses dinna wish me to court them. I have heard how Kiera was well schooled, and trained much as a lad.” He clenched his fists, forcing out the words that could ruin his future. “We have naught, my lord. No coin, titles, or land to bring to the marriage. Not even a cow, a sheep, or a chicken. Marrying yer daughter will bring us a life far beyond our dreams but Lady Kiera deserves a husband she can respect. Her dreams of a lordly husband shouldna be broken so we gain ours.”
MacKenzie stared at him intently before returning to his whittling. He blinked, a lot. Malcolm did not think it was a chip of wood caught in his eye. He finally heaved a deep sigh and looked up.
“‘Tis pleased I am that ye think of my wee lass and not just yerself,” said MacKenzie quietly. “I ken my lassie well. She’s been courted by many a lordly husband and refused them all. She doesna respect a man for what he owns, but what he is.”
Malcolm’s heart pounded, but now it was in hope, not fear.
“Ye are right that Kiera willna accept a man she doesna respect. Mayhaps ‘twas wrong of me, but the lass was bright and had spirit so I let her be well schooled like a lad. Mayhaps ‘tis why she judges a man not for his manners and dress, but if he’s stronger in his body and mind. She needs a husband she kens in her heart”—MacKenzie tapped the point of his blade over his left chest—“who can, and will, protect her and her bairns with his life.”
“Duff and I would do so. And we willna beat her for speaking her mind.”
MacKenzie’s eyes went hard. He stabbed the knife toward Malcolm. “Ye’re damn right ye willna beat her!”
Malcolm didn’t move. MacKenzie went back to whittling. After a bit his ire faded, the corner of one lip twitching. “Spanking’s another matter, ye ken.”
“Did ye take the whip to her?”
“A whip? Nay, but when she did as her brothers, she got the same strokes on her arse.” He chuckled. “I didna swing as hard, mind. My wee lass learned faster than her brothers in the schoolroom, and she met their dares outside it. When I saw her walking the edge of that wee stone rail five stories up, arms out to balance, my heart near stopped. I hauled her in and sent her to her mother’s solar to learn to be a lady. She learned that as well, and was my Lady MacKenzie after Elizabeth passed until Silean released her from her duties.”
Malcolm had heard about the sparks that flew between the two women. He’d heard it wasn’t so much that Kiera was released from duties, as much as Silean took over. Kiera’s bitter words, carelessly flung in fury, were the reason she’d been allowed to spend the summer alone at the sheiling. He couldn’t blame her. She’d held a
position of power and respect for years as Lady MacKenzie. When her father married she became an embarrassment, a widow her father was unable to marry off. Unless she married, she’d continue to be a nuisance for the rest of her life.
“The lass canna stay here, and she kens it,” said MacKenzie. “She’s been wishing to get to her wee tower for years, but I couldna let her go without her bein’ wed to a strong laird. When I saw yer brothers, and heard of the rest of ye, I asked yer Laird Somerled to release ye to me.” He scowled, bushy eyebrows looking like a pair of fuzzy gray caterpillars. “Ye must stop that damn Alexander Ross of Balnagowan from gettin’ a toehold on the Black Isle!”
He was just learning of Clan MacKenzie’s land. The Black Isle wasn’t really an island, but a piece of rare fertile land almost surrounded by the sea. A peel tower there could provide a good living for them.
“Is that where Kiera’s tower is?”
“Aye, at the tip of Cromarty.” MacKenzie attacked his piece of wood, making chunks fly. “Ross holds the land on the far side, a bare mile away. He wishes to control all ships entering Cromarty Firth and the harbor of Nigg Bay. All he must do is catch Kiera and kill her husband. Once he marries my lass to his kin he takes her tower and land.” He stopped to glare at Malcolm. “The king forced my wee daughter Catherine to marry Balnagowan.” He furiously shook his dirk at Malcolm. “I willna lose another daughter to a Ross. Or her land!”
Malcolm understood. An unmarried woman with a dowry was something to be protected. There were no roads in Highland Scotland. Travelling by water was not only faster, it was safer. If Ross controlled both sides of Cromarty Strait he would control all beyond it as well. Malcolm had learned that, except for the portion controlled by Clan Munro on the west of Cromarty Firth, MacKenzie ruled the entire area from Balnagowan Castle to Clan Fraser’s land in Beauly. The Rosses were prolific breeders and had many men wishing for land. If they got a toehold on the Black Isle they’d push south to take it all. The fertility of the land, which now fed MacKenzies well, would allow the Rosses to produce even more warriors.
