by Mary Wine
But they followed her.
It was an insult that jabbed through her heart. Back in their chamber, she stood staring at the bed with tears in her eyes. The chair was less appealing. The self-pity she’d avoided descended on her in full force. Hopelessness strangled her spirit. Suspicion was such an ugly thing set with teeth that chewed on the tender emotions.
For the moment it felt as though the life in front of her was nothing but one struggle followed by another.
Bonnie stood silent, overlooked by everyone. She was used to it, in truth encouraged such. The argument made her flinch but she kept her eyes glued to it. There was a lesson to be learned and she forced herself to absorb it.
“Ye should leave. This is no something a young lass should witness.”
Bonnie jumped but held her gasp behind her closed lips. Alarik McKorey slid up beside her, having emerged from the dark hallway behind her. His gaze traveled over her face in a motion that was too familiar for her comfort.
“I am married.” Telling men that fact always sent them away from her. It was the only thing her husband was good for.
“Is that yer way of telling me to leave?” Alarik sounded amused.
“It is my way of reminding ye to not trespass against God’s law.”
The large Scot grunted. He was an entire head taller than herself, his shoulders twice the width of her own. His hair was dark as midnight, his eyes green. The argument in front of her drew her attention again. A firm hand on her arm made her jump. She turned on Alarik, scratching at the fingers that held her. He frowned but tugged her away from the hall before releasing her.
“As I said, lass, there’s no need for ye to witness what is being said.”
Bonnie glared at him, but he stood in the middle of the hallway with his hands braced on his hips. There was no way to go around him.
“I expect a man to advise me so.”
“And why is that?”
She drew herself up straight and proud. “Because you lure women into contentment so that they will not fuss over wedding. But once you have your way, you turn cruel.”
“Cullen is no cruel. ’Tis naught but temper. That lass has as much spirit as Cullen does.”
“You are a man. You shall defend him no matter what he does.” Bonnie cast a last look at the hall but she could no longer tell what was being said. No matter, she understood well enough. The Scot standing in her way only added confirmation to her belief that all men used women regardless of how the woman felt. They bent them to their whims ruthlessly.
“I defend him because I understand that this union would no be a simple one but that it will bring better days to a great many people.”
“Exactly.”
He stepped toward her but Bonnie backed away. She turned around and left. There was no point in remaining. He was a man and would always side with his brethren. Just another example of why a woman was wise to avoid them. She had no desire to become a submissive wife. Bronwyn McQuade had her pity.
Cullen sat back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“That won’t help, lad.” Alarik sat down beside him, keeping his voice low as the men settled in for a few hours of sleep.
“And yer an expert on marriage, are ye?” Cullen offered him a disgruntled look. “I must have missed hearing that ye took a bride.”
Alarik scoffed at him but shook his head. “I dinna understand women any better than ye appear to.”
Something crossed his friend’s face that looked like frustration. Cullen offered him the pottery jug of whiskey. He took it and reached for a small pottery cup.
They sat in silence. It suited his mood. Bronwyn weighed on his mind. Settling her into his house was a far greater challenge than he’d anticipated.
But that was not what bothered him.
What captured his attention was the fact that it hurt to see her unhappy. He expected to be emotionally attached to his brother and sister. Even watching love grow between Brodick and Anne had not prepared him to find something tender in his own heart for a woman. Yet it was there, tangled around all of his motivations. He’d hurt her with his suspicions and it tore a hole in his gut.
“Yer right, this whiskey isna helping. I spoke too harshly to her.”
Cullen stood up and left. Alarik watched him, baffled by the determined stride his friend was using.
“Yer wrong, my friend, this whiskey is helping…me.” Alarik dumped what was left of Cullen’s whiskey into his own cup and leaned back in his chair. Aye, it was helping—helping to keep him from touching a lass who was too tender for what he wanted from her. He raised his glass in a silent salute to young Bonnie. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she was an angel not meant for his hands to touch.
His cock dinna care…
The bed rocked and Bronwyn stirred. Her head ached and her eyes burned. It was dark in the room, but she could feel Cullen near. Actually smell the scent of his skin. A tiny shiver rippled over her skin. The response made her angry because she could not even control her own body. She turned away from him.
He followed her, gripping her in his arms and even laying one leg over the top of her thighs.
“Have done, Cullen, I’ve had enough fighting for one day.”
He pressed a warm kiss against her neck instead. She’d gone to bed in her chemise but he was wearing nothing but his warm skin.
“I will never have done with ye, lass. But ye’re correct that we have spent too many hours fighting. I’m sorry I spoke harshly to ye in the hall. Ye dinna deceive me, I understand that now.” He smoothed his hands over her arms, unleashing another ripple of sensation. With exhaustion pulling at her, his warm embrace felt delightful.
“Leave me be. Ye’ve already had me tonight.”
He sighed, pressing a warm kiss against her neck. “’Tis the truth that ye have more wisdom in ye than I do. Ye have my gratitude for leaving instead of blistering my ears as was yer right.”
“Ye would have deserved it.” Bronwyn sighed inwardly because her voice sounded too forgiving. The man was going to twist her around his finger if she didn’t show more backbone.
“Aye, I know it.”
There was true regret in his voice. She wriggled against his hold but he refused to allow her to place distance between them.
“I understand why ye dinna do as ye said ye would.”
She jabbed her elbow backward and heard him grunt but his arms did not release her. “Ye dinna understand me. If ye did, we wouldna be fighting.”
He suddenly rolled over onto his back, taking her with him. He kept rolling until her back was pressed into the bedding with his body pinning her down. One arm was trapped behind his back and he captured her wrist with the other hand, pressing it to the bed.
“Yer right. But ye are nae the only one that is recently married, Bronwyn. I’ve nae been a husband afore either. We are both bound to make mistakes.”
In the dark he was only a shadow, but she felt him along her bare legs, every inch of her skin enjoying the warm contact. He kept enough of his weigh off her to keep her from being crushed, but she discovered that she enjoyed feeling the rest of it pressing down on her. As if there was some part of her that liked knowing he was stronger than she.
“I am sorry that I dinna trust ye, but I am no apologizing for wanting to keep ye.” He leaned down until his breath touched her lips. She drew in a ragged breath. Even in the dark she saw his eyes glittering.
“I wanted ye when I stole ye away, but now I need ye, Bronwyn.”
He kissed her, brushing a soft one against her mouth before deepening it. She pushed against him, trying to gain space but he insisted, kissing her with a passion that wasn’t hard, but tender instead.
Her resolve buckled. Even her pride dissipated into the night around them. In the dark there was no one to judge her. There was only the hard body of her lover. His kiss soothed her. His hand tangling in her hair while his cock hardened against her thigh. Need built into a steady throb inside her passag
e this time. It was warm and steady and, in a way, comforting. He trailed his kisses along her neck and she arched to offer more of the smooth column to him.
But he didn’t cover her immediately. One hand slid beneath her chemise, tugging the fabric up until he cupped a breast. Sweet sensation flowed through her as soft sounds passed her lips. She lifted her hands, seeking his skin. It was soft and hot beneath her fingertips but the muscle it covered was hard and full of strength. Every touch was slow this time, there was no rush. He stroked her with a sure hand that didn’t miss any part of her. Over her ribs, lower toward her belly and across its soft surface to the curls at the apex of her thighs.
He teased them for a moment, pulling gently on the silken strands before slipping into the delicate folds that protected her clitoris. His lips claimed hers again in a kiss that was demanding, one fingertip plunging into her sex while his tongue speared deeply into her mouth. Her thighs parted for him, her hips lifting up in welcome.
He covered her then, cupping the sides of her face with his hands. He thrust slowly forward, easing his length back into her passage. Sweet delight filled her, building once more toward pleasure. The bed ropes groaned as he increased his speed, driving faster and harder into her. She shuddered as need tightened around the hard flesh. She lifted toward it, needing just a little more speed.
Her cry, soft and delicate, filled the bed curtains. Pleasure blossomed inside her belly. It didn’t jerk her away from every thought, but instead grew warmer and warmer until her entire body was enveloped. Cullen shuddered and ground himself deep. The hot spurt of his seed hit her womb and the walls of her passage clenched tightly around him to pull every last drop from his length.
He caught his weight on his elbows on either side of her head. Both their breathing was rough as the bed slowly came to a stop. He placed a soft kiss against her cheek and then another on her temple.
“I promise ye, Bronwyn, I shall learn to be a better husband.”
A soft whimper left her lips. She opened her eyes but couldn’t see his expression in the dark. His voice was gruff and hard with emotion.
He kept his promises…
She trusted that. He rolled over onto his back and took her along with him. The bedding was shoved off to one side but he dragged it over them with a single hand, keeping the other around her.
“I canna say that I’m sorry about yer father, but I am sorry for yer pain.”
His hand rubbed her back. It was tender and caring, bringing tears to her eyes. They dropped onto his chest before she lifted her head to hide the weakness. Cullen followed her, rolling onto his side while he allowed her to move. But he clamped a hand around her and pressed against her back, even tucking her head beneath his chin.
He was jealous.
Cullen was stunned, but amazed at the same time. Bronwyn shuddered in his embrace and he soothed her. Envy filled him, envy for the tears she spilled for another person. He wanted her to care that deeply for him. There was no way to deny it. He wouldn’t be jealous of her tears if he didn’t care for her deeply.
He could shove it off on the late hour or the stress of the long day, but that would be lying to himself.
Instead he held her, listening to the way her breathing deepened when sleep took her away. For the first time he understood why he’d often avoided his bed until exhaustion forced him to. The reason was clear.
His bed was a lonely place.
Now he realized it. Now that he had Bronwyn there to share sweet kisses with him, it wasn’t the fucking, it was the intimacy. A word that he’d known but never felt before.
But it meant nothing without her returning the affection. Sleep pulled him away from his thoughts but not before he promised to win Bronwyn’s heart.
It was a promise he would keep.
Laird Erik McQuade was laid to rest on his land with all his retainers in attendance. His three sons stood solemn while the pipes wailed out a last tribute. Keir McQuade watched frozen ground being filled in over his father and found it fitting. Maybe he was a poor son, but his father had always had a cold heart. He left the grave as soon as possible. His temper burned hot and it wasn’t for the same reason his older brothers were cursing about.
He wanted his sister back. The fact that Bronwyn was only his half sibling didn’t matter to him. It never had. She was the only member of his family who cared for him.
Liam and Sodac caught up with him.
“It’s about time ye showed some courage, brother.” Liam slapped him on the shoulder and snickered. “We’ve vengeance to extract on those bastards McKorey. I’m happy to see ye in such a hurry to begin.”
Keir turned to face his siblings. The scent of whiskey was strong on both of them. With their father dead. Liam was making it clear that no one had say over his actions any longer. He drank any time and any place that he wanted to and fucked any woman that caught his eye.
“It’s Bronwyn I’m intent on finding.”
Liam looked confused for a moment. “Aye, the land. Father warned us about making sure she never breeds.”
“What land?”
Liam shrugged. “Her mother came with a dowry that is willed to Bronwyn and her offspring. It’s no McQuade property unless Bronwyn dies without issue.”
Keir spat, rage turning his vision red. It was a good thing his father was dead or he might be tempted to do the deed himself. Greed had rotted the man long before a royal pike was pushed through his heart. He had treated his daughter little better than a servant her entire life because of land. He believed it because that fit with the greed-poisoned picture he had of his sire.
Liam and Sodac watched their younger brother stride away. Sodac pulled a leather flask from his doublet and took a nip. “I forgot about Bronwyn. What are we going to do about her? Cullen McJames will fill her belly for sure.” He snickered. “I’d poke Raelin McKorey a few times before slitting her throat, too.”
Liam smirked in agreement. “Raelin deserves to suffer before we choke the life out of her.” He grabbed the flask and drank a long swallow. “But Cullen isna planning on killing Bronwyn in spite of the fact that she’s his enemy’s daughter. We’ll have to see to that ourselves.”
“Do we have to kill her?”
Liam nodded. “I don’t want to waste all my time making sure she’s no fucking in the hay. Besides, her belly might already be full with a bastard who’ll take our land.”
Sodac stared at his brother. “Ye’re laird now. Make the king give her back.”
“And then what? She just dies after being returned?” Liam raised his hand, threatening to strike his brother for not thinking of a better solution. “Besides, Jamie is smitten by the McJames. He dinna even hang Raelin McKorey for causing our father’s death. No, if we want to keep that land, we’ll have to take care of Bronwyn ourselves.”
Liam McQuade took another swig of whiskey. He was laird now. He’d think of something. It didn’t matter that Bronwyn was his half sister; every McQuade served the laird. Even if it meant their lives. He expected it of his retainers, just as his father had. He wouldn’t go soft over the fact that Bronwyn was a female.
He’d deal with the threat. Permanently.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn came too early.
Bronwyn rubbed her eyes and groaned when she sat up. The chamber was lighter, and with the bed curtains still open, the light roused her.
“I agree.”
Her husband yawned before rolling over the edge of the bed. Her gaze followed him because she just couldn’t help herself. She’d never noticed that men were attractive. Cullen was magnificent. Every ridge of hard muscle a delight for her eyes.
“Ye look like a siren sitting there tempting me back into bed.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. She stood up, enjoying the grin playing across his lips. He didn’t have to tease her, didn’t have to be kind to her.
Yet he was.
“There are not enough hours of daylight to be wasting any.”
Cullen
pulled his shirt over his head. “Well now, if that’s a promise that ye’ll be welcoming to me once the sun sets, I’m content to endure the daylight.”
“Stop yer teasing.”
She walked across the room and picked up her surcoat. But Cullen hooked her around the waist and pulled her back against his body.
“Why should I do that, lass? Yer cheeks are rosy from my teasing and yer eyes shining.”
He nuzzled her neck, sending ripples of excitement down her. It was playful and sweet, drawing a soft laugh from her.
“Ye are an overgrown boy.”
“Ah, but ye enjoy the fully grown man in the dark.”
She giggled, and gasped when she heard the sound crossing her own lips. Cullen’s wide chest rumbled with a deep chuckle against her back. He nipped her ear with a teasing bite.
“Ah, it’s true, Bronwyn, ye cry out so sweetly when the man pleases ye in our bed.” He cupped one breast and turned her slightly. “Or chair.”
She slapped the arm holding her against him, but the blow lacked any real strength. “Enough.”
He hugged her tight before releasing her. His kilt was already pleated and waiting for him on the table. He leaned over it and pulled the ends of his belt around his waist. When he straightened back up it took mere moments for him to buckle the belt and pull the loose end of his plaid up and over his right shoulder. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief but also determination.
“It is no enough, no nearly enough. I plan to tease ye much more.”
“Why?” The chilly morning air made her shrug into the surcoat in spite of her distaste for the garment. She longed for a dress and that was a fact.
Cullen tugged a round Celtic bonnet down over one side of his head. He walked back toward her and she stood fast, watching him in fascination. This was not her captor and yet he was. What mesmerized her was the fact that she was enjoying being the target of his teasing.
