by Mary Wine
“Yer body was made for me. I think I could spend hours just enjoying the way yer passage grips my cock.”
“Ohhhh…” She bucked, finally achieving some movement. Pleasure spiked up her sheath but it only made her crave more. She needed deep thrusts to relieve the hunger gnawing at her. The hard length lodged inside her was unbearable, teasing her with what she needed while remaining motionless.
“Get off me!”
“Or get on with fucking ye?”
His expression dared her to demand what she wanted.
“Yes!” She bucked, the twist of need making her frantic to get him to comply.
“Do ye want me hard and rough?” His voice was steel edged, his nostrils flaring.
“Yes!”
He growled and released her wrists. Propping his elbows on either side of her head he twisted his fingers in her hair holding her prisoner once again.
“Then ye shall have it.”
His first thrust sent the air out of her lungs. Her entire body moved as he drove his cock into her. It was hard, but pleasure filled her.
“Wrap yer thighs around me.” His breathing was harsh. He gripped her hair tighter, his hips working to drive his swollen length back and forth rapidly. She clasped him with her thighs, locking her ankles to hold on tight. Little whimpers crossed her lips because she just couldn’t contain all the sensation. Pleasure rippled upwards from each strong thrust. One wave collided with the one in front of it because he was moving so quickly.
“Yes…”
Only that single word made any sense to her. There was nothing but the friction of their flesh, only the pleasure shaking her in its grasp. Her back arched, her sheath tightening. Her lungs refused to work as pleasure exploded. She felt as if she was falling away from the edge of a cliff and it was the most euphoric thing she had ever experienced. The delight rippling out to her fingertips and toes. Every inch of her body pulsating with satisfaction.
Brodick shuddered, his cock pumping its hot seed into her body. He snarled against her neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anne dragged a breath into her starving lungs. Her fingers hurt from the tight grip she had on his shirt. Every bit of her strength suddenly drained away. There was only the deep satisfaction washing along her limbs. It settled into a pool around his cock. Uncurling her fists, she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. His torso quivered, his breathing ragged.
A soft kiss landed on her neck, soothing the bite. He trailed more sweet kisses along the sensitive column and along her jaw until he reached her lips. He kissed her softly but deeply, taking his time to lick her lips before pressing her mouth open for a deeper kiss. The hands in her hair released their hold, his fingertips gently massaging her scalp.
“Did I hurt ye?”
His voice was muffled against her cheek. In spite of the ache from her hips being spread so wide, she shook her head. He sighed, raising his body off hers.
“I got a wee bit carried away.”
He stood up, looking very much like the raider he’d played at being. ’Twas a truth that he was every inch a warrior. Strength was etched into his body, forged just like his sword. The long weapon was still strapped to his back and had been there the entire time.
“I am glad of it, my lord.” Rolling over, she stood up. Her skirts fell down to cover her thighs. Her passage was sore, but she would not lament it. She had enjoyed herself full well. “Even if my words will make you arrogant.”
He was already arrogant but it was something she seemed drawn to. No softly worded flattery had ever turned her head. Brodick’s bold demands turned her into a wanton.
He watched her, an unreadable expression on his face. Anne lifted her chin, giving him strength back to match his own. The wind whipped up, bringing a chill. Casting her eyes towards the horizon, she noticed the dark thunder clouds rolling in from the coast.
Brodick shook his head. “Ye’re a distraction, madam. I dinnae think I’ve ever been so intent on a woman before.”
“You say that as though it is to be lamented.”
He turned to sweep the area behind them, doing it in a polished, confident manner that further enhanced his appeal. She’d never encountered a man who impressed her the way Brodick did.
“Maybe I’ve nae decided about that yet.” There was a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Some men think falling in love with their wives is a fate worse than death.”
The word love stunned her. Her father loved her. She loved her mother and siblings. Yet love between a man and a woman was something that was denied her by her bastard heritage. To allow her heart to soften would be to invite heartache.
She knew it and still her heart swelled. She suddenly felt so happy, she wasn’t sure her feet were still on the ground. Brodick was watching her face, his expression carefully guarded. His lips twitched up as she failed to mask her emotions.
“Aye, lass, look what ye’ve gone and done. Stolen me heart. I’m going to have to take ye back to my castle and keep ye forever, else wither away for want of ye.”
He winked at her. “’Tis the Scot raiding way. We keep what we steal.”
He left to retrieve their horses. A stricken look took command of her features as she hugged her arms around her.
Love. It was amazing and more precious than she ever might have imagined. No girlhood dream could have prepared her for the feeling.
The years of Philipa’s scorn had never once felt like such a burden as they did right then. Her knees practically buckled, her shoulders wanting to throw the weight off. Her stomach was knotted with nausea so thick, she had to suppress the urge to retch.
Love…both gift and curse. The faces of her family tugged at her while her heart longed for the man riding toward her. If she remained with Brodick, loving him, she had to abandon the family who loved her to a cruel fate.
She had no idea what to do. None at all.
Brodick pulled his horse up when Sterling came into view. His body became still for a moment as he stared at one of the towers.
“We’ve company.”
“Indeed?”
He nodded. Raising one hand he pointed toward the far north tower. “See the banner? ’Tis nae mine or Druce’s.”
Peering in the direction he pointed, she glimpsed a blue and green banner dancing in the wind.
“’Tis from court.”
His voice went serious and it was something she understood full well. Even a titled earl was subject to the will of his king. Brodick kneed his mount forward, and her mare picked up her hooves to follow.
Brodick swung from the saddle the moment they reached the yard. He reached up and plucked her from her horse before the mare even came to a stop.
“Take a nap. I’ll have to finish ravishing ye later.”
A nap indeed.
Anne laughed at his jest but he was already striding away, intent on joining his secretary who was standing on the steps waiting for his master. Anne had seen the man a few times, the large leather bag slung across his chest a telling thing. She knew what was in it—letters, books and, most importantly, the seal of the house. He appeared at each meal with the bag and she had not seen him even once without it.
He lowered his head as Brodick got close, moving forward so that their words would not drift.
A cart creaked as it entered the yard, two oxen pulling it.
“There ye are, lass.” Helen’s voice was full of cheer. She had to wait for the team to be held steady before another man unhooked the gate placed across the back of the cart. Helen climbed out, shaking her skirts and tartan when she was standing on the ground.
“Me daughter had a strong son, she did. ’Tis me first grandchild. They baptized the boy Ian.”
Brodick’s sister was also in the cart, although Fiona looked frustrated as she climbed to the ground. A dark-coated mare followed the cart and the animal nuzzled Fiona the moment she stood up. Brodick’s sister stroked the animal’s muzzle with confident hands, speaking softly to it.
“You enjoy
riding?”
Fiona looked guilty for a moment but her hands remained on the mare. “As much as I’m allowed.”
“Fiona, behave.” Helen shot the younger girl a stern look. Fiona didn’t appear contrite, only stubborn.
“There are many who believe riding will toughen my womb, twould make me sterile. I’m nae allowed very much time on my mare.”
Anne watched the way the girl pouted, clearly feeling as though life was unfair.
It was that, Anne agreed. “There are many in England who say the same thing.”
Fiona humphed. “Ye did not need to say that. Helen is already firm in her belief. I dinnae like riding in the cart.”
Helen frowned at her. “Don’t act so young, Fiona. If a lass gains a bad reputation, who will have ye? Think, miss, ye’ll want to have yer choice when the time comes for marriage.”
“I’m nae interested in marriage.” Her hands stroked the mare lovingly. “At least nae now and ’tis only riding. It’s nae as if I were asking to go riding out under the moon.”
Helen frowned. “Nae gentle lass should talk about such things. You just leave the moon riding to the fallen women who dinnae have someone to keep them from that hard path. It might sound exciting, but be very sure, lass, that it’s a rocky road to set yer life on.”
“Your brother took me riding today. I must say, I understand your fondness for it.”
Fiona smiled, all sweet forgiveness now that Anne appeared on her side. “Beware, Sister, Helen will blister yer ears for it. She is all aflutter about babies.”
“I will nae. Once yer wed ye can ride all ye like because the womb doesnae toughen once yer sharing yer husband’s bed.” Helen shook her head. “Listen to ye, young miss. How could ye know everything at sixteen?”
Fiona smiled, as vexing as Cullen often was. “I know that I love to ride.”
Anne laughed, unable to help herself. Helen rolled her eyes, but still grinned good naturedly.
“Tell me about your trip. How is your daughter?”
Helen happily clasped her hands together to begin speaking of her family. Anne let the sound of Helen’s joy surround her. There was much at Sterling worth loving.
Especially its master.
Brodick looked formidable that night. Anne entered the eating hall and a prickle of worry went down her nape at the hush in the air. Even Cullen, who normally was so carefree, appeared years older. Druce was busy crumbling a round of bread, his jaw working quickly while his thoughts appeared to race.
Brodick nodded to her but continued to brood over a tankard. Cullen broke the heavy silence.
“He’s a bastard.”
Druce grunted, sounding like he approved, while continuing to chew more bread. Brodick’s expression darkened further.
“That is nae the issue at hand. His bloody uncle has the ear of the King. We have to be careful how we answer his charges.”
“The bloody raiders burned a dozen homes.” Cullen looked ready to draw his sword.
But Brodick tempered his brother’s ire with a calculated shake of his head. “I spent five weeks running them back to their nest. No one knows it better than I, but they’ve gone and complained to the King making it sound like we have been raiding them. Jamie is nae tolerating that from any clan. That’s why he sent his men here to make sure it’s known far and wide that he’s watching.”
“’Tis nonsense. The McQuades were on yer land.” Druce washed the bread down with a huge swallow of small beer. “I’ll ride with ye to court.”
Brodick nodded, but his expression was still dark. His gaze touched hers and he winced.
“I’m sorry, lass, but ’tis poor company ye have to sup with tonight.”
“For good reason, it sounds like.”
His lips twitched, just the slightest amount. One of his hands covered hers. His fingers were warm, sending a tiny ripple of enjoyment up her arm.
“Protecting McJames’ land is a fine reason, to be sure. Yet I’m nae looking forward to riding to court.”
There was a disturbance at the far end of the eating hall. All three men grunted, hissing under their breath as a party of five men appeared and demanded some of the retainers relinquish their seats to them. Although wearing kilts, these men had doublets on and their tartans were blue and green. Never mind that there were seats aplenty a bit further across the room. The McJames’ retainers looked to Brodick for direction, but it was clear they wanted to give the newcomers a taste of their fists.
Brodick jerked his head and the retainers set their expressions. They rose from the benches, moving to empty ones. The newcomers smirked with their victory before assuming their seats and loudly calling for service.
“You have guests.” Anne watched them with growing disdain. “Rude ones at that.”
Brodick grunted. “Aye. The sort of company I can do without.”
Druce cut a hard look towards the men. “We all can. Damned royal hounds. Here to make us dance to Jamie’s tune and all because we were defending our own land.”
They bellowed again, beating their tankards against the table-top. Not a single maid looked their way.
Anne stood up, disgusted by their behavior. Brodick’s hand shot out to clasp her wrist. She gasped because he normally controlled his strength with her and this grip was hard, unrelenting.
“Where are ye going?”
“To show them that no woman of this house is intimidated by their arrogant snobbery. As well as to stop that racket before the children learn ill manners from their poor example.” She pulled her arm gently, keeping her eyes steady. “I’ll not have them gossiping about Sterling hospitality.”
Brodick released her, pride shimmering in his eyes. She lifted her chin, enjoying the praise. Their guests beat the table again. With a determined stride, Anne covered the distance to them. She hooked a full pitcher out of Ginny’s hands. The younger woman gasped, but Anne had no time for her.
“You will have to stop beating those tankards against the table if you would like them filled.”
Her English accent silenced all five of the men. They wrinkled their noses, one of them muttering something in Gaelic.
Leaning over the table, Anne splashed small beer into one tankard before the man holding it noticed her intentions. He jerked it away from her pitcher, sending a small wave of the dark brown liquid onto his shirt.
A ripple of amusement went down the long tables.
“You should be more careful with a full mug, sir.” Her tone was carefully controlled but there was a subtle set down in it.
One of the other men hit the table with his tankard. “How long do I have to wait anyway?”
Anne smiled sweetly at him, years of serving Philipa finally becoming useful.
“Forgive me, I was distracted by your companions’ clumsiness.”
“Damned English.” He peered into his mug frowning. “Likely poisoned.”
Dropping the pitcher, Anne snatched the tankard from his hand. She quaffed a healthy measure of it and slammed it onto the table in front of him. The thump of the tankard hitting the table bounced around the hall because it was so silent.
“May I refill your tankard, sir?”
Amusement began to fill the air, Brodick’s retainers breaking into loud laughter.
Helen suddenly appeared, the model of good hospitality with a tray of cut cheese and new spring leaves. She placed the tray with a great deal more force than needed.
“I do hope ye remember to tell the King how the mistress herself filled yer tankards with her own hands.”
“So ye be the English heiress.” The one nearest her ran his eyes down her length, pausing for a moment on the swell of her breasts. “I see yer nae so hard to look at. That’s a bonus considering McJames had to fuck you to get yer dowry.”
Anne felt Brodick’s eyes on her; the hall had gone quiet again. She could feel the tension drawing tighter.
“Helen, please instruct the cook to heat some bathing water. Our guests need to remove the di
rt from themselves now that they are indoors again. It is only polite, after all, to not drip filth at the table.”
Anne turned her back to find the rows of McJames’ retainers eyeing her with respect. They slapped their thighs with one hand, filling the room with noise. She carried herself with dignity through the men and into the kitchen.
“Och now, ye put them in their place right nicely.”
Helen laughed, but her eyes fell on Ginny. Anne turned toward the older woman.
“Do not worry, Helen. We all listen to gossip. You should hear some of the things I have been told about Scots women.” The maids working on the long table slowed down, tilting their heads toward her to listen. Even Ginny looked less defiant as she waited to hear what Anne had to say.
“Indeed. I understand that Scots women ride naked and pick their teeth with the points of their dirks.” She paused for a moment, raising a hand to shake a single finger. “Yet, I always did wonder if that might leave wind burn on their skin as well as thinking, where do they store the dirk when they are naked? And how do they manage to pick their teeth with a sharp dirk while riding and not slice their lips? It seems rather complicated.”
The women looked at her, stunned. Helen suddenly laughed, her cheeks turning red.
“Yer a rare one indeed, Mistress,” Helen shot Ginny a firm look, “to be able to ken that some things are not as they seem. Hearing it doesnae mean you know enough to judge.”
There were several mutters of approval. Even Bythe nodded agreement. She watched from her post near the stoves, keeping a watchful eye on her ovens.
“There’s hot water aplenty if yer in the mood for a bath, Mistress.”
“Thank you.” To refuse would have undone the fragile truce she’d just forged. Helen nodded once more, approving of her. The tension in the kitchen dissipated, giving way to soft banter once more.
It was work well done, Anne decided. Something she might be proud of because not everyone could handle the prejudices of centuries. Maybe that was the true use of Philipa’s sourness. Serving the woman had taught her patience.
She had done well, if she did think so herself.
More importantly, she had not shamed Brodick. That was the true reward and she hugged it tight as she followed Helen towards the bath chamber.
