Improper Seduction Bundle with In the Warrior's Bed, Bedding the Enemy, & In Bed with A Stranger

by Mary Wine

  What was…was.

  Reaching for her small bundle of belongings, she found her clean chemise and stockings. Clean skin would be nice. Maybe she would even sleep after her bath. Opening her door, she peered into the hallway. She listened for the creaking of the wood floor but all was silent. Using soft steps, she headed toward the back stairs that the servants used to bring food up from the kitchens. They were narrow and dark with only two tin lanterns set to light them. There wasn’t even a door at the bottom; the steps simply ended in the kitchen.

  Two maids were sitting at a small table. Their voices were soft while they chatted. One worked a lump of pastry dough while the other chopped leeks. They both stood as she entered.

  “Evening, ma’am.”

  Only the older one spoke, the younger maid watching, her fingers gone still on the pastry.

  “I thought to bathe.”

  The younger girl dusted her hands off using her apron. She turned and pushed the iron bar that held large caldrons inside the fire pit over the flames. There was a faint sizzle as water that had been dripping down the side of the copper caldron connected with the heat of the fire.

  “Shall I build up the fire?”

  Bronwyn shook her head. The glowing embers suited her mood. Besides, she did not want to call attention to where she was. Perhaps it was a small thing, but knowing she was not being watched felt better.

  “There is no need to waste wood.”

  The maid took her words kindly, thinking her a frugal woman. With winter due to encase the city in snow and ice any day, being wasteful for one’s comfort was unwise. She’d heard that many a noble daughter lingered in their baths while huge fires blazed to keep them toasty warm.

  That had never been her lifestyle.

  But that was not something to lament. She was strong and sturdy. Her hands added to the good of everyone at Red Stone. The respect she had was respect well earned, not demanded like her brothers often did.

  There was a rush of water. Bronwyn turned to watch water running down a wooden trough and into the tub sitting near the door. The maid waited until the tub was half full and then quickly pushed a thick slab of wood across the trough where it went through a window. Outside there would be a large rain barrel set up at the roof level. It would catch rain water and gravity would allow it to flow into the tub when the wooden shingle was removed.

  It was quite a modern bathing convenience.

  Only the hot water needed to be added. Bronwyn set about removing her clothing as the fire heated the water. She laid aside her skirt, doublet, and stays. Next came her stockings and boots. Placing her brush on the table top she pulled a bar of soap from the store box.

  When the copper kettle was steaming, the maids dipped large ladles into it. They added enough hot water to raise the level of water by half a foot. Reaching for the hem of her chemise, she pulled her last garment off. The maids had returned to their work. Having them in the kitchen did not bother her; bathing was rarely private.

  Sitting down in the tub, she worked the soap across her skin. She was oddly aware of the smooth texture of the water. Her nipples were far more sensitive than she could recall them ever being. Her body felt alive with some sort of anticipation. It made no sense at all, but when she rinsed her hair, the water stroked her cheeks, sending little ripples of pleasure through her.

  When she stood up, the night air brushed across her nude body, but she wasn’t cold. She felt bold and free. A blush stung her cheeks and she reached for the toweling quickly. There was wickedness twisting through her blood tonight. A taunting desire to immerse herself in thoughts of Cullen McJames and what a man did with a woman.

  Since she carried the charge of guilt, her mind wanted to know what the sin felt like. It would seem that she was as foolish as she was unlucky. Nothing good would come of her mental wonderings.

  She worked the fabric through her wet hair for many long minutes to remove as much water as possible. Lifting her clean chemise from the chair, she let it cover her body and reached for the hair brush. Standing close to the fire, she drew the bristles gently along the strands of her hair, lifting the strands so that the heat from the fire would dry them. Soon the linen of her chemise began floating gently around her knees and her hair became a soft cloud.

  She did love being clean. The church might call it wicked but she could not deny that she enjoyed the way her skin felt after a bath. With a sigh she reached for her stockings and covered her lower legs with them. She stepped into her ankle boots and laced them for the return trip to her room. At night the rats could make it into even well-kept town homes. In the crowded conditions of the city, the vermin were desperate to find food. Walking barefoot was an invitation to spread disease. Red Stone was much cleaner.

  A rush of cold air made her shiver when the back door was opened. But there was no splash of water against the cobblestones. A startled gasp from one maid made Bronwyn turn in a flutter of unbound hair. A hard body collided with hers, turning her around once more so that her back was pressed to his front. Fear spiked through her as she bucked wildly, a snarl rising from her throat.

  The sound never passed her lips. One hard hand sealed it inside her mouth. There was iron strength in that hand, such as she’d never felt. The dying firelight glittered off the spinning blade of a dirk as it sailed across the kitchen to embed its deadly blade several inches into the table a mere foot from the younger maid.

  “Nae one sound, lasses. Not a one or the next dirk goes through yer hand.”

  Recognition was instant. Her memory recalled Cullen McJames’s dark voice. Her fear died in a sizzle as her temper erupted. The maid’s eyes grew huge while they stared at the slowly vibrating handle of the dirk.

  Bronwyn jerked against the arm holding her, rage making her stronger. His grip slackened for a moment and she twisted violently, even biting at the hand lying across her mouth.

  There was a soft hiss from Cullen but his body twisted and moved at the same time. His hand slipped away from her mouth but gathered up most of her hair. He twisted it around his hand, jerking her head backward. She opened her mouth to yell but a wad of fabric was pushed between her open teeth, smothering the sound. His larger body pushed hers forward until she was pressed against the table, her hands becoming useless when he leaned his body weight against her back to imprison her against the hard surface of the table.

  “Now imagine my surprise to find ye here in the kitchen, lass.”

  Bronwyn spat the cloth out of her mouth only to feel a thick strip of leather sliding through her open teeth. Cullen tightened it down around her head, pulling some of her hair as he made sure her tongue was trapped and useless.

  “And here I thought I’d have to search through the house for ye.”

  A garbled sound made it past her gag. Cullen leaned down across her body, letting her feel his strength. His breath brushed against her ear, enraging her with how easily he subdued her.

  “Easy, lass. I’ve no desire to bruise ye.”

  Dark shadows moved past the kitchen. Blinking her eyes, she watched as men quickly bound the two maids without a squeak out of either of them. The ease and smoothness of their action enraged her further. She screamed behind her gag, pushing against the tabletop. There was a soft word in Gaelic from her captor before her arms were folded behind her in an iron grip.

  “I warned ye, Bronwyn.”

  There was no lament in his voice, only solid determination. More leather was wound around her wrists and a good way up her forearms before it was knotted firmly. He kept his body against her legs, pinning her to the table. Her head knocked against the hard surface because she refused to stop struggling. The pain from each collision only spurred her on. She bucked and jerked, snarling through the gag.

  “Such a temper.”

  She cursed when she heard the soft desire in his voice. How dare he? She suddenly stiffened to the point that every muscle felt as if it might snap. Cullen slid his hands down to her waist and over the curves of her
hips before continuing right along the sides of her thighs. The touch shocked her. Her heart pounded inside her chest so hard it felt as though it might burst. With only her chemise, she felt the heat of his hands. He pressed her thighs together with that iron strength of his and bound her legs tight at the knees with another length of leather.

  He stood up when it was knotted, releasing her from the tabletop. Bucking upward, she was rewarded with a hard connection with his chin. He grunted and satisfaction surged through her in spite of the sharp pain that jabbed into her head from the blow.

  He leaned over her once more, his body forcing hers back to the tabletop.

  “Enough, lass. Ye hurt yourself more than me.” He remained there for a moment letting her feel his strength, his power. Her temper burned but she was helpless against his larger body.

  “Play with her later, Cullen. After we’ve quit this house.”

  One of the shapes in the dark finished tying the older maid to the table leg. He leaned across the table to keep his words a mere whisper.

  “Aye. Fortune has smiled on us. No reason to tempt her to turn sour. I have what I want.”

  Cullen stood up, releasing her. He turned her around and bent one knee so that his shoulder lowered to her belly level. He moved forward and straightened up in one fluid motion so that her body tumbled over his wide shoulder with an ease that horrified her.

  It was far too simple…

  She refused to yield, keeping her head up. Her neck strained, the muscles aching. The only thing she gained was the sight of both maids’ legs stretching out on the floor. They were bound to the thick legs of the table so that they might not even push over things to gain attention. The table was too heavy for them to move, even together. With night having fallen, they might not be discovered until dawn.

  That would be far too late for her…

  Despair raked its unrelenting claws across her when she felt the night air on her thinly covered body. More shapes moved in the dark as Cullen lifted her up alongside the wall that had seemed so hard to escape but an hour past. Hands gripped her and pulled her over its top with ease. She heard the horses before she saw them in the dark. A narrow alley ran between her father’s house and another town house. There was the dank scent of water from the kitchens that used the alley to drain their waste water toward the main gutter.

  She was handed up and pulled atop a horse.

  “A pity I had to bind ye so tight. Now ye have to travel like a sack of goods.”

  Cullen’s voice held a note of amusement that sent her struggling once more. Her effort earned her little. He pulled her over his saddle, her head hanging down on one side. A sharp whistle and the horse moved, its hooves splashing through the water. She kicked frantically, trying to gain attention, but the horse kept moving and there was no shout of alarm from her father’s men.

  Instead she felt that hard hand of her captor pressing her down onto the back of his horse. Her head began to spin in a dizzy circle as it filled with too much blood. Bronwyn resisted the pull of darkness but there was no fending it off for long. She went lax as unconsciousness claimed her.

  Cullen felt the change in his captive. He stroked her back, testing her compliance. He ran one hand lightly over the soft curve of her bottom and yet she remained still. He hadn’t expected to find her in her bath. The light color of her chemise drew a frown from him. A bound woman lying across his saddle might draw attention that he didn’t need. Pulling Argyll to a stop in a shadow, he looked around.

  “Cullen, cover her with this.”

  Druce tossed a length of McJames plaid toward him. Pulling Bronwyn upward, he leaned her against his chest and wrapped her quickly in the wool. At least it looked as though she were simply sleeping. A common enough sight on the road at night.

  Alarik McKorey watched him with a brooding expression.

  “Treat her kindly, McJames, or I’ll regret aiding ye.” He turned his horse about, his men following suit. “Ride strong, man.”

  “I owe ye, McKorey. I’ll nae forget that.”

  Alarik nodded his head before riding into the street once more. Cullen waited until the man was a good measure away before he and Druce took to the road. He urged his horse forward, needing to cover much ground before first light. Gaining McJames land was critical and every man behind him knew it. Only the faint sound of hooves meeting dirt, and leather shifting, filled the air. The crescent moon offered them the perfect darkness to carry their prize home. The wind stirred up the dry leaves on the ground like whispers of the past and other brides that had been carried away by moonlight.

  Bronwyn lay against his shoulder, her body lax throughout the night. Cullen pressed a hand against her heart to feel for its steady motion. Deep satisfaction filled him as the hours passed along with the miles.

  She was his. For honor’s sake. For peace. For the rest of their lives.

  Chapter Five

  Her bed was moving.

  Bronwyn frowned but opened her eyes when she felt the bite of the leather at the corners of her mouth. A hard, male arm was draped across her body, the hand cupping her hips far too familiarly. Her teeth ground against the leather, grinding it with her fury. The chest behind her rumbled, increasing her anger. Dawn was chasing the night away, the pink sky telling her that she’d slept the entire night.

  The hand holding her hip slid up to cup her chin. She was sitting sideways across the horse, one thigh completely numb from the constant bouncing. Cullen raised her face to meet his stare.

  “Good morning to ye, Bronwyn.” Satisfaction coated his words. Bronwyn ground her teeth against her gag in reply. He chuckled, his fingers gently smoothing over her jaw.

  “I think I’ll leave that leather between yer teeth for a bit longer.” He slipped a finger beneath it, testing how tight it was. The concern baffled her. The man was abducting her. She jerked her head, pulling her chin out of his hand. All traces of tenderness evaporated from his face, leaving only determination staring at her.

  “We’ll be discussing that a wee bit later, Bronwyn. But be assured that I will touch ye.”

  She snorted at his attention and refused to look at him.

  He was too attractive.

  She hated her body right then. Finding anything to like about her captor was intolerable. She needed to find her pride and refuse to notice that he was such a handsome man.

  Well, Satan had been a cherub before falling from grace, too.

  The last of night was rapidly giving way to daylight. They had left the city and the side of the road was rocky. The grass had turned brown now with the colder temperatures of the nights. Her toes were like ice in her boots. It was little wonder considering she was wearing only her chemise and stockings. A length of wool was wound around her and even up over her head. In spite of that she was freezing, a hard shiver shaking her. The hand on her hip moved, stroking her waist as though it were the most natural thing. As though he had the right to touch her.

  She swallowed roughly. He had taken the right.

  A rough breath rattled past her gag and there was no stopping the flood of despair that swept into her thoughts. Each pound of a hoof sounded louder than the last as the road kept falling away behind them. She had gone from being the property of a father who detested her to being the possession of a man who held good cause to hate her blood. It was disheartening, to say the least. Keir’s face floated in her mind as she considered never seeing her brother again.

  Or worse yet, hearing that he had taken up his sword to defend her. Her father would revel in another reason to rain violence on the McJames clan. Blood would be spilt and it sickened her.

  The sun rose completely while she was lost in her dilemma. She felt the steady beat of her captor’s heart against her shoulder and tried to wiggle away from it. The powerful stride of the horse threw her back until she gave up and remained still. She noticed the scent of his skin and tossed her head but there was no escaping. She’d never noticed that men smelled different. It touched off a
current of awareness that made her quiver. The skin on her face recalled vividly how his fingers had felt against it.

  He suddenly pulled his horse to a stop.

  “There, lass.” Ahead of them was a large stone tower. It was constructed of lighter castle stone and the morning sunlight made it look as though it were golden.

  “Welcome to White Tower.” The man beside them spoke to her. His face lit up as he looked at the tower with its large curtain wall that surrounded it. Set up on a rise, White Tower held the high ground, making it a formidable fortress.

  The man beside them spurred his horse forward. Cullen stroked her hip once more. She turned her head and glared at his boldness. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine because it lacked all remorse. Worse than that, there was a firm determination burning in his eyes that said the man considered it his right to touch her.

  “My cousin Druce is lord of White Tower. It’s the first castle on McJames land.”

  Bronwyn turned her head away to hide the fear that spiked through her. Cullen captured her chin, returning her face to where he could see it.

  “Best that ye understand that there is no man who will help ye leave McJames land, Bronwyn.”

  She hissed at him, unable to fling the scathing retort that formed in her mind. She didn’t need help. He was not the only one who knew how to make their way in this world.

  “I suppose that sound means ye disagree with me.” A hint of amusement edged his words now and it sparkled in his blue eyes. “‘Tis nice to know that ye are nae a disappointment as far as yer spirit goes.”

  He chuckled but didn’t waste any more time on talking. She felt his body move as he dug his heels into the sides of his horse. The huge beast took to the trail with amazing speed, covering the ground far faster than any mare she’d ever ridden. Before long they passed under the open gate of the outer wall. It was an iron one, held high by thick ropes on either side of the road. The inner yard was full of men and women working. Curious eyes moved over her but there wasn’t a hint of disapproval. Quite the opposite. Many of the men grinned when Cullen allowed his cousin Druce to lift her off the saddle. The blue, yellow, and orange colors of the McJames’s kilts surrounding her burned her eyes. The length of wool wrapped around her slithered down the moment she was stood on her feet.