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

by Mary Wine

  “Returning ye home will nae cleanse my name and that of my clan.” He stood firm in his belief, his face hard and unrelenting. “As laird, yer father should know what weight his words carry. If he expected me to ignore the stain, he was very much mistaken.”

  “Yer quarrel is with my father, not me.”

  Cullen offered her a slight break in his stony expression. “And yer father’s quarrel with me is something my father did before I was even born.”

  “Which is why there is nothing to be done about it. My father will nae change his ways, no matter what ye and I do. Better to not risk offending God by taking marriage vows that are insincere.”

  He pressed his lips tighter together. “I’ll tell ye only once, Bronwyn, never say that I don’t keep my vows. If I make a promise, ‘tis for sure that I will stand behind my words.”

  His voice was solid and edged with determination so sharp it was tempting to surrender to his wishes, just listening to him. Many a wife wished for so devoted a spouse. In truth, there were far too many mothers who wished for a wedding to cleanse the illegitimacy from their children. But Cullen wasn’t simply smitten with her, the man wanted more than her affection.

  “I will not be the weapon ye wield against my father. Have done with this. Enough blood has been spilt already between our clans. I dinna want to give anyone an excuse to fight in the spring.”

  Cullen snorted. “Obviously ye need time to adjust to yer situation. What I’m offering is the opportunity to put an end to the fighting and the gossip.” His expression tightened. “And that is what I will have of ye, Bronwyn. One way or the other. I’ll wed ye whenever ye decide. If that is in front of a midwife, so be it.”

  He turned and strode toward the door. The hinges groaned once again when he yanked it open.

  “There’s a meal for ye on the tray. Any of the maids will tell ye where the bathing tubs are. Try to leave the tower and ye’ll be returned to the chamber I’m sleeping in.”

  Her eyes widened. “For what?”

  His lips twitched up, hunger flickering through his eyes once more. “For me to keep ye warm as a husband should. I suggest ye think about that before testing the alertness of my cousin’s men.” Cullen inspected her with his eyes once more, his gaze lingering on the small points of her nipples where they poked against the supple fabric of her chemise. “Or don’t. I’ve been thinking about ye far too much since meeting ye. I’d just as soon overwhelm ye and have done with all yer arguments.”

  “Well, I would not.”

  He chuckled but it wasn’t a nice sound. There was a dark promise lurking in his eyes now, one that set her heart to racing again. “We’ll rest the horses for a day and then I intend to take ye to Sterling.”

  “I won’t wed with ye, Cullen McJames.”

  He smirked at her before moving into the hallway. “Yes ye will, Bronwyn, because I will nae allow any man to blacken my name. No even yer father. The McQuades will learn that a McJames will nae take dishonor from their hand. Yer father thought a union between us something to talk about…well, I intend to have the last word on the matter. And that is a promise.”

  The door shut with a hard thump. The sound pierced her heart with a finality that nearly stopped it. Sterling was the earl of Alcaon’s main residence. Brodick McJames was Cullen’s older brother, his only brother. The man had wed himself to an English woman who brought more land to his holding, English land. Her father had launched new raids on the McJames in his rage. She doubted Brodick would make Cullen send her home, but she had to clutch at the tiny seed of hope that the earl might decide he didn’t need more trouble from the McQuades.

  It was far more likely that the earl would order her starved until she took her wedding vows.

  She snarled as she turned and smothered a scream behind a hand. Her father and his endless greed! She stood a captive in naught but her chemise because of a dice game thirty-five years ago.

  Men…

  They used women. Pain slashed through her, her eyes burning as she struggled not to shed the tears that welled. It was a futile effort. The wet drops sliding down over her hot cheeks as she looked around the room, desperately trying to think of a solution.

  There was none.

  Both her father and Cullen wanted nothing but to make her dance to their tune. Perform like a string puppet to amuse them and place gold in their hands.

  Now it seemed even her body was betraying her. She wrapped her arms around herself because she ached. Her skin was alive, every nerve ending tingling with awareness, craving another stroke or touch from Cullen. Each nipple remained hard, the fabric of her chemise stimulating the sensitive buds. Both mounds felt swollen and far more tender than she had ever noticed before.

  The needy ache bled lower until it settled between her thighs. Never once had she burned for a man. For certain, she had heard talk of it. That thing that otherwise obedient daughters slipped off into the night to sample because they could not resist the hunger for it any longer.

  Lust…

  She’d listened to many a sermon on the evils of it. In sooth, she’d shaken her head when overhearing the maids talking about their sweethearts. Wondering how they might be so foolish as to follow love anywhere. Love was the path to ruin, the church preached it, even Shakespeare wrote it in his plays. This was her retribution for judging others, this chastisement from her own flesh.

  More tears spilled down her cheeks. She abhorred crying but seemed unable to stem the emotional tide washing over her. The fact that she was in a strange home, however finer it was than her own chamber at Red Stone, only increased her feelings of dismay.

  It only served to increase her awareness of her fate. Bronwyn suddenly hissed. She wiped the tears off her face, grinding her teeth at her own weakness. She refused to endure without attempting to guide her own destiny.

  She was a McQuade after all. Her brother Keir was a man worthy of respect, so she would endure and discover some way to return to the life she had earned. Staying meant trusting that Cullen was not the same as her own brothers, Liam and Sodac. She would be a fool to think the McJames was any less a warrior for his clan. Once she was at Sterling, it was very likely that she’d be shut away like the prisoner she was. Any wedding performed would be nothing but more chains to keep her in the stronghold of her father’s enemy. Her father raided the McJames. She had no reason to suspect that any of them would like her. Cullen had stolen her to clear his name, nothing more. Better she dwell on how to escape, for it appeared that the only person she knew was telling her the truth was herself. There was still God, but she doubted that the angels would appear to set her free. There were plenty of stolen brides in Scotland to prove that.

  No, if she wanted freedom, she would have to escape. She would worry about what to do with that freedom once she held it.

  She moved to the door, inspecting it. There was a heavy bar slide on the inside that she might use to lock it. But that would lock her inside the chamber. She reached for the handle only to stop halfway there. There would be no easy escape from the tower yard, especially in her chemise. If she wanted to succeed, she would have to plan carefully.

  Instead she walked back to the tray of food. She was too angry to be hungry but she picked up the bread and cheese, stashing them behind the pillows on the bed. Then she went to the door and pulled it open. Finding herself a dress would prove more challenging, but she was up to it.

  She would not yield. Not now, not ever.

  Cullen McJames could choke on his pride.

  So could her father.

  He needed some rest but his body wasn’t interested in sleeping. Beneath his kilt his cock was hard. In the kitchen he found Druce bathing.

  “Och now, ye look like a demon.”

  “Shut up, Druce. I’m nae in the mood for teasing.”

  There was a splash as his cousin poured a bowl of water over his head. He shook it out of his eyes and shot Cullen a glare. “Now there’s the thanks I get for riding all night. Even gave up
me plaid.”

  “I appreciate it.” He just felt like strangling Bronwyn at the moment. “That woman is stubborn.”

  Druce laughed. “And ye and Brodick wonder why I’m nae married. Show me a female who’s biddable and I’ll take her to church quick.”

  Cullen unlacing his boots then shook his head. He didn’t want biddable. It was a sure thing that Bronwyn’s stubbornness wasn’t what he’d planned on when taking a wife, but he couldn’t deny the way it stirred his blood. He wanted her and his cock was still hard from tasting her sweet kiss.

  He moved the water trough Druce had used to fill the tub he was in to another tub and pulled the shingle free to fill it. He didn’t bother to add hot water but stripped off his clothing and sat down in the cold water. Druce made a poor attempt at smothering a chuckle.

  His cousin laughed outright when Cullen turned a deadly glare at him. But he tossed a chunk of soap across the distance. Catching it, Cullen worked it over his skin, concentrating on the task in an attempt to ignore that demanding bit of flesh between his legs. He’d never been so hard, at least not when he wasn’t with the woman who had sparked that interest.

  “She says she’ll nae wed me.” And that stung. The feeling took him by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he felt for Bronwyn. Having his pride within her striking range was sobering and a bit unsettling, too.

  “She’s nae the first abducted bride to say that when the question is first put to her.” Druce was serious now. “The taking is not the hard part. ’Tis the convincing that takes a clever man.”

  And so it would. Cullen dumped water over his head to wash his hair. He liked being clean. Half of the nobles in court didn’t value a good bath as much as he did. They stank like manure piles.

  Bronwyn smelled sweet. She tasted sweet, too. He finished his bathing and stood up with his cock still firm. Kissing her might have been a mistake because sleep was going to prove elusive with her taste clinging to his lips. It was more involved than that, though. The way she returned his kiss, shyly, proving her inexperience, was what burned in his thoughts. For a single moment she’d tried to return his kiss, mimic his motions with her own mouth.

  It had been sweeter than anything he’d ever experienced.

  He smoothed out his plaid on the table that had been placed in the bathing room just for that purpose. The front legs were slightly shorter than the back ones. Wooden pegs had been set into the center of it to hold a belt steady while a man pleated the fabric in even folds. Most men used the foot of their bed to lay out their kilts, but Druce had seen the benefit of having a table constructed for more ease when donning the garment. This way he didn’t have to bend his back all the way over to pull the belt around his waist. The pegs held the belt steady and all ye had to do was back up to the wooden surface once the pleating was done.

  Druce watched him buckle his belt with a firm hand.

  “Yer nae going to get some rest?”

  Cullen scowled, his cock demanding he go to bed but not for sleeping.

  “No now.”

  Druce chuckled while pleating his own kilt. Cullen didn’t remain in the bathing room to hear the man’s amusement.

  He scoffed as he walked through the hallways toward the front entrance. Bronwyn McQuade had managed to kill his sense of humor. He stood on the front step, watching the activity in the yard as the sun began to arch back down on the horizon.

  Now that was something he was going to have to fix. Right after he warmed the lass up. A grin lifted his lips as he considered the way she moved in his embrace.

  Aye, warming her up was going to be a pleasure.

  His pleasure.

  “Och now, look at ye.”

  Bronwyn grimaced as one of the older maids spied her. The woman shook her head and shot a stern look at the two women who tried to tell her to ignore Bronwyn.

  “Yer a sad lot, letting a girl walk around in her chemise and it being November.” She clicked her tongue. “Come on with ye, child, there is no point in sneaking about like a specter. Everyone knows who ye be.”

  Of course they did.

  Her sarcastic thoughts didn’t change the way the woman stared at her.

  “I’m called Lydia. Come on with ye and let’s see if we can’t find something for ye to wear.”

  “I’d be appreciative.”

  Lydia smiled at her. The woman considered her with a critical eye when Bronwyn stepped all the way into the kitchen. She suddenly smiled.

  “Yer about the same size as Murain be. She’s due to birth her first child next month so she has nae need of her long stays.” Lydia nodded, obviously pleased with herself. “Go on back to yer chamber and I’ll send someone to fetch some of Murain’s clothing up to ye. Let’s nae be letting the men see ye walking around like that.”

  Bronwyn nodded, keeping her mouth shut. She needed the clothing, and offending Lydia by insulting her clan was not going to endear the woman to her. Turning around, she paused in front of one of the large windows that allowed light into the kitchens. There was costly glass covering the window in six inch squares held together by lead. Such windows in a work area were the mark of a rich household with a laird that didn’t begrudge his servants comforts. Red Stone had wooden shutters that were slid open in fair weather. When it rained, the kitchen was shut up tight and the servants had to endure the dark.

  The kitchens faced the stables. Cullen stood next to his horse. He was rubbing the animal with steady motions. There was tender concern in his touch. That same thing she had glimpsed in his eyes for a few moments.

  Her father and older brothers never took care of their own mounts. They considered it their right to have others do the labor.

  There was a grin on Cullen’s lips, reminding her of how he’d looked the first time she’d met him. Part of him was still a mischievous boy who enjoyed playing. But there was also a side of him that was a hardened man.

  “Och now, stop undressing the man with yer eyes,” Lydia scolded her in an amused tone. That set a few of the maids to giggling. The woman moved up behind her, cupping her shoulders with her hands. “Although, I’ll admit to understanding yer fascination with that one. He’s a fair bonnie sight.”

  “Not to me, he isna.”

  Lydia chuckled at her. Bronwyn frowned, moving her attention away from Cullen. She needed to learn about the grounds if she intended to escape. The stables were large with many men and horses in front of it. Even through the window she could hear a blacksmith working somewhere nearby. What drew her notice was the doublets that were tossed over the rails of the stalls inside the stables. Obviously the retainers stored the outer garments there in case of nighttime raids that called them from their beds quickly. Many of the retainers most likely slept in bedrolls laid out on the floor of the main hall after it had been cleared for the night.

  And she had a length of McJames plaid in her chamber, enough for a kilt on her smaller frame. The idea took root in her mind—maybe the inhabitants would notice a woman, but would they stop a young lad from leaving?

  “Yer eyes tell a different story, lass.” Lydia gave her a gentle push. “Go on now, that chemise is too thin by far. Yer shivering.”

  She was, but hadn’t noticed. Bronwyn worried her lower lip as she cast a last look at Cullen. No, she had not noticed the chill while looking at him. She was tempted to ask Lydia what sort of man Cullen was. But the woman was a McJames, so she’d likely defend a fellow member of her clan.

  She quickly climbed the narrow stairs back to the floor with her chamber in it. Relief swept through her when she was once again behind the door. Her belly rumbled but she didn’t want to eat the bread or cheese she’d hidden. But there was a small bowl of porridge on the tray. It had gone cold while Cullen was in the room with her.

  While he was kissing her…

  Bronwyn snorted at her thoughts but she still recalled in vivid detail the way his mouth had felt against her own. The way he’d slipped his tongue across her lower lip, tasting her like aged whiskey. S
he shivered, caught in the memory. Her skin flushed and her heart accelerated. That tremor of anticipation returned, only this time it was stronger and more exciting.

  Picking up the McJames plaid, she pushed it beneath the pillow on the bed where her food was hidden. She refused to listen to the warning voice inside her head. The church preached against women dressing as men but the scriptures would not be helping her out of this mess. There were many who believed any female who dressed as a male was possessed of the devil. Bronwyn shook such ideas out of her mind. She would try it.

  Before Cullen got around to warming her up again.

  Reaching for the cold porridge, she ate it in spite of its lack of taste. There were small bits of fruit stewed into it that at least were sweet. She’d have forced herself to consume it if it tasted like dirt. Strength was the key to her liberation. An empty belly would see her failing.

  She mustn’t allow her body to weaken. Cullen would seize the opportunity to bend her. She might be fascinated by the boy in him, but it was the man who posed the threat. Her own body turned traitor under his touch. Her father might detest her, but he could not wipe her thoughts from her mind such as Cullen did with his kiss.

  She would not be prey to him. The only thing she truly had was her own sense of being. As humble a possession as that might be, she refused to relinquish it to the lust Cullen unleashed in her.

  Maybe she would not go back to Red Stone at all. The idea lingered in her thoughts while her logic told her what a bad concept it was. The world was a harsh place without a clan. If she returned to Edinburgh alone, she might end up in a whorehouse, or worse, on a ship bound for the Muslim countries because their law forbade enslavement of fellow followers of Islam. Christians were sold for gold in those places.

  She could not go to court. Her father would find her there and the king might give Cullen permission to wed her. Such was the way of men, using women to settle their accounts.