Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  The words about Struan’s own actions, chasing a woman like a dog in heat until she cuckolded her own husband and bore Rob, were not words to be spoken aloud. They would not surprise anyone here, for the story of Rob’s beginnings was familiar, but to remind the laird of his failures and to call Rob’s mother an adulteress before this clan would do no one any good at all. And, worse, ’twould do much harm.

  “Just so,” Iain said as he released his hold of the older man. He stepped back and offered a slight bow before turning and walking down the steps and out of the hall. Rob caught up with him before he’d made it back to his chamber and followed him within.

  “I thank ye for not blurting out anything about the circumstances of my birth,” his friend said. “Though I could see ye wanted to say it to his face.”

  “Secrets revealed are still never easy to hear.”

  “I didna ken why he brought Gunna here, for ’tis been years since her last visit here.”

  “There was some problem between her and Anice, then?” Iain could decipher it in Anice’s face, and in the way she’d left her aunt-by-marriage behind.

  “Aye. Gunna was here when Anice was young and inexperienced in dealing with her life and challenges. Gunna reminds her of bad decisions and behaviors, long after Anice grew into the woman she is now.”

  “That might be the reason behind Struan’s words then. Regret? Embarrassment over how he lived his own life and the choices he’s made?”

  Rob crossed his arms over his chest, letting out his breath as he nodded. Iain began gathering up his clothing out of the trunk in the corner and stuffing it in a leather sack.

  “If ye wanted to be charitable, ye could think of it as advice he’s giving to ye, so ye would not make mistakes as he has.”

  Iain shook his head, partly to deny that possibility, and partly in disbelief that Rob would defend the man.

  “What are ye doing?”

  “I think a few days in the village might do me some good,” Iain said. “Send word if ye have need of me. Ye ken where I will be.”

  “So, ye have no plans to marry again?” Rob asked.

  “Nay.” Iain shoved another shirt in the bag. “Aye.” He tossed everything on the bed and put his hands on his hips. “I would love to have what ye have, Rob. I miss Elisabeth and I miss what a man can have with a woman he loves.”

  “Are ye seeking to marry, then?” Rob goaded him. Iain let out an exasperated groan.

  “Jamie wants me to remarry and have bairns, to ally another clan with ours. Struan thinks marrying again is a good plan—for me but not himself, clearly. Ye, too?”

  “Bairns?”

  “I have only two score and five years on me, Rob. I can still make bairns.” If he had not glanced up at that exact moment, he would have missed the alarm that crossed Rob’s face. It was gone so quickly Iain wondered if he’d even seen it there.

  “Right now I want to go and spend some time with a woman I ken who will not ask me questions.” Iain tugged the sack closed and picked it up. “I think I will stay there until Gunna has gone.”

  Rob’s laugh taunted him then, but he resisted the urge to say more or to punch his friend. He opened the door and motioned for him to leave. “Give my regards to Anice, if ye will.”

  “About Anice and bairns,” Rob began. “She is carrying.”

  A broad and proud smile filled his face at the announcement. Iain smacked Rob’s shoulder at this news, for it had been almost five years since Anice had given birth to her son Craig with no sign of bearing another. This explained Rob’s strange reaction to the question of bairns earlier.

  “Ye have my best wishes, Rob. ’Tis not kenned yet?”

  “Nay, she wishes to wait a bit longer before announcing it. Moira kens, as do a few others.”

  “I will not speak of it until ye give me leave.” With that, he pulled the door behind him, forcing Rob to move along.

  “Iain, why do I get the feeling that ye are running away?”

  Iain answered with a crude gesture and walked away, unwilling to say more.

  In a way, he supposed he was escaping. Escaping from Struan’s plan to make a match between Iain and Struan’s cousin. Escaping from the need to pretend he did not want to be with Robena. As he made his way to the stable to ready his own horse, Iain decided that he was escaping, but instead of running away, he was running to . . . her.

  As he rode like the flames of hell were pursuing him, he realized that he had made a decision to marry. Not to a woman most would expect or want him to marry. When he arrived at her cottage and stood before her door, he understood that his biggest challenge, the one he might not overcome, was the woman waiting within for him.

  Iain knocked softly and waited for permission to enter. When it did not come, he lifted the latch and opened the door slowly. Careful not to allow too much of the cold in, he quickly closed and secured it against the growing force of the winds. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light, he finally found her. Not lying on the pallet, but sitting in the one large chair, sound asleep.

  He walked softly over to her and crouched before the chair. Her breathing was deep and even as she slept, unaware of his arrival. Then he noticed that her hair tumbled loosely over her, and that she wore only the blanket wrapped around her. Her bare feet peeked out at the bottom and rested on the floor. If the fire had been stronger when it was laid, ’twas not now, and she shivered in her sleep.

  Iain put the bag down and found some wood to add to the fire. It grew stronger and threw more heat as the new logs caught, and he watched as her shivering eased. Returning to the place before her, he sat, and with a care not to wake her, lifted her feet up and put them on his lap. Then, after rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them up, he laid them on her feet and stroked up under the blanket in a very slow path. His hands could almost encircle her ankles, so he did, sliding down and up, along the front of her shins and on the back of her legs. Her loud sigh was the only warning before she woke.

  Robena opened her eyes then, though she wanted to sit here and enjoy the feel and the heat of his touch on her feet and legs. She hadn’t realized how chilly it had gotten, because she’d sat down and had promptly fallen asleep.

  So much for her intention to wait and be ready for his return.

  He sat at her feet, or rather under her feet, stroking her, bringing the warmth of his strong hands to her chilled skin. Leaning forward, she smiled at him when he looked up at her.

  “I wanted to be ready for ye,” she said.

  “Ye did not come to the keep when Anice sent word.”

  If she did not have a care, she would hear the disappointment in his voice and allow it to soften her resolve about him. She lifted her feet from his lap then and he allowed it. Reaching down, she took his hands in hers.

  “I couldna.”

  She tugged until he stood and let the blanket around her drop as she reached out to caress his legs. Beginning at his knees, she stroked up much as he had, but onto his thighs, feeling the well-defined muscles there. His breathing changed as she slid onto her knees before him.

  “Couldna or wouldna?” he asked in a breathy whisper.

  Did he think her willful? That she would ignore his call for no reason but her own? Robena sat back on her heels and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. The erection brought on by her caresses was visible there in the way the woolen plaid tented out from his groin.

  “The laird forbade me from entering the keep.”

  She felt his strength as he pulled her to her feet, and admitted to herself that she loved it. The way he could move her at his will. He could hold her up while he entered her, while he fucked her standing or against the wall. He could stretch out his arms over her body and hold her immobile as he tormented her with his mouth and his cock. Never once had he used that strength in a way she did not wish.

  “But Anice has welcomed ye there,” he said.

  “Anice is the lady of the keep, but Struan is still laird, Iain. He has e
very right to bar me from entering, or to punish me if I disobey his word. Ye ken that, ye do.” She moved back a step and let the blanket fall completely away. “So, I’m afraid ye will have to visit me here if ye want me.”

  Strange thing; she found herself waiting for him to say he would come here. That he did want her. But the icy expression that covered his eyes worried her.

  “Iain? Is aught wrong?”

  “Nay, Robena. Not with ye. But ’twould seem that Struan is up to some game.” He reached for her then and slid his hands up and down on her arms gently. When he looked at her, his eyes were warm and alive. “I do not mind visiting ye here at all. As ye can see, I had planned to do that already.” He canted his head towards the pallet and she noticed the leather bag there.

  “Will ye tell me what he did?” she asked.

  The laird had been openly hostile to her, but he could not do that to Iain. Not with the long history of friendship between their families. Not with the position of respect each held in their clans. Struan had changed with his son’s death and with Rob’s marriage to Anice. He’d broken his word and few trusted him, but fewer raised a voice to question his authority. Rob had made it clear that he was serving as tanist until a new chieftain was needed.

  “He brought his late wife’s cousin here to visit.”

  That did not seem so strange, or even a bad thing to Robena. With a clan as large as the MacKendimens, kin came from all over their lands to visit, stay, foster, or live. She shrugged, not seeing the problem.

  “For me to consider marrying.”

  Chapter Six

  That dark and angry expression was back in his eyes, and his face was like carved stone. He was a man clearly opposed to marrying again. In a way, it made her feel more at ease. She was certain when she’d seen that wanting look in his eyes on his first night here that it had meant something dangerous. Now, with his anger at Struan for trying to arrange a marriage for him, she understood that he was not being foolish in feeling more for her than he should.

  More than either could allow.

  “I can understand why he would do such a thing, Iain. Ye are a man yet in yer prime. Ye are connected by blood and oath to the chieftain of the powerful MacKillop Clan. Ye have much to offer a woman and her family looking to make an advantageous alliance.”

  “So I have been told,” he said.

  Robena walked past him and poured them both some ale. Handing him one of the cups, she realized he wished to talk more than he wished to tup. She smiled at that, for most men did not spend their precious coin to sit and talk with a whore. She found she liked these times as much as she did the other things they did together.

  “My thanks,” he said, holding the cup up and nodding to her. He drank deeply as she realized that was another thing she liked in him—his willingness to acknowledge service and servants. Watching as he took another mouthful, she could not remember a time when Struan had offered thanks to anyone who did his bidding. Other than to Anice.

  The fire would begin to ebb soon, so she grabbed up the blanket, tossed it over the others already on the pallet, and climbed under the warm layers. As she slid towards the wall and placed pillows behind her back, she held up the covers for Iain.

  They’d spent many hours just like this—sitting on the pallet, discussing this or that, coupling when the urge came over one or the other or both of them. He finished the last of the ale and tugged on his belt. With the fire behind him, his shape outlined by the flickering flames, she watched as his body was exposed.

  She’d seen worse and she’d had a few better, but none affected her as his did. As he pulled his shirt over his head, she remembered the feel of the muscles in his thighs and knew how hard the muscles in his arse would feel as he thrust into her. She liked to cup them with her palms. He turned to put his garments aside and the whole length of his prick could be seen against the fire’s light. She would need both hands to wrap around that.

  “Are ye hungry, lass?” he asked as he watched her face. Walking towards her, he offered, “Do ye need something to eat?”

  Robena could not help herself; she laughed aloud at his words. He’d meant them kindly, truly he had, never considering their other meaning. But then Iain had never been a coarse man when it came to fleshly desires and needs. He frowned for a moment, and then understanding struck and he joined her in laughing. He knelt on the pallet and climbed next to her, his cock holding the covers up when she tugged the woolen blankets over the both of them.

  “So you do not wish to marry again?” she asked as he settled next to her. Iain moved in close, sliding his arm behind her and shifting her so they touched. His warmth flowed off him, adding to her comfort. She hadn’t known how cold she’d gotten until he was next to her.

  “I have sworn for the last five years that I did not wish to,” he admitted. He reached around her to clasp her hand in his, entwining their fingers.

  “Are ye changing yer thinking on it, then?”

  Before he answered her, he reached his other hand down and rested it on her belly. Even through the blankets, she could feel the heat of his touch. His long fingers splayed, some over her belly and some nearer to the curls between her legs. Though he did nothing more, she found it difficult to breathe.

  “If I found the right woman, aye, I would think on it,” he said, his words now spoken close to her ear.

  He shifted, and his cock pressed against her hip under the bedcovers. Now he began to swirl his fingers lightly over the covers, but she felt every movement as though he touched her flesh to flesh.

  “Not Struan’s cousin?” she managed to ask in halting, affected words.

  “Nay! Not Gunna,” he said. “If I marry again, ’twill not be that woman.”

  “Good.” The word escaped her lips.

  “Good? Ye dinna wish me to marry, then?” he asked, his voice teasing her as much as his relentless, gentle caresses did.

  He made no pretense about his motives, for he pushed the covers down and caressed her breasts. The rough skin on his thumbs made her ache as he rubbed her nipples. When he leaned down and took the tight point of flesh into his mouth, she lost the ability to think. His teeth clasped it and he licked it with his tongue while his lips sucked hard. The moan that echoed into the cottage could not be helped or held in. She grabbed his head with her free hand, holding him there. When he lifted his gaze to hers, the wickedness in his blue gaze foretold of the pleasures ahead.

  “So, I shouldna marry again?” he asked as he lowered his face once more to torment the other nipple. He slid his hand down now, down and down until he splayed his fingers over her curls. Her legs fell open at his caress. His every touch sent her wits scattering, and her ability to think just disappeared. “Lass? Ye dinna wish me to marry?”

  “If ye marry, we willna do this,” she finally said. “Any of this.”

  She pulled free of him, pushed him on his back, climbed over him, and slid onto his length. He reached up and guided her hips down, hissing at the sheer pleasure of the friction inside her. Then she rode him, easing up and down, faster and faster. He filled her and it felt good to her.

  “Ye would refuse me?” he asked as his breathing quickened.

  She lost her concentration for a moment at that question, and he took advantage of it. Taking hold of her waist, he pushed up and rolled over, thrusting in deeply when her back hit the pallet. He was tall enough that he could rest his elbows next to her shoulders when they were like this. He smoothed her hair out of her face and stared at her. As she shifted her hips to allow his prick in deeper, she gave him her honest answer.

  “Ye are a faithful man, Iain,” she whispered. “Ye would not share the bed of any other woman, noble or whore, if ye were married.”

  He kissed her then, not moving anything but his mouth on hers. He did not close his eyes then, but stared at hers with a puzzled expression. Had he not realized it? Surely he must have, for his behavior was different than most noblemen. ’Twas one of the many things she lov .
. . liked about him.

  “’Tis a good thing I am not married, then.”

  Iain watched as her eyes changed from green and bright to something dark. He eased out of her and pushed back in, listening to her breathing as he did. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back and shifted her knees up to his hips. His next thrust filled her and she gasped. He let go of his control and his hunger for her took over. When she moved against him, he quickened his pace and rocked in as far as he could on every thrust. Her breathy sighs became moans and then soft screams as her inner core tightened around his flesh and he felt his seed begin to release.

  He wanted this woman as he’d wanted no other before. He admitted that, as the need to have her and possess her took over in those last few moments of satisfaction. Iain leaned down and suckled her neck, pulling the tender skin between his teeth as she screamed out her own release. He’d marked her.

  “Iain,” she whispered as she caressed his head, running her fingers through his hair as her breathing eased to a slower pace. “That was . . .” She paused, and her fingers slipped down onto his back. “Simply wonderful.” He felt her body relax then. “I thank ye for that.”

  “What do ye mean?” he asked, easing out of her body and gathering her close.

  “For again seeing to my needs,” she explained.

  “A man should see to a woman’s pleasure, Robena.”

  “Ah, but a man does not worry over a whore’s pleasure or pain,” she whispered. “’Tis only about getting his coin’s worth, in whatever way he wants it.” Iain lifted her face so she had to meet his eyes then. Were all the men she . . . saw . . . like that with her? Oblivious to her needs or desire? Seeing the honesty in her gaze, he understood the truth of her life in that moment. He wanted to punch the wall.