by Lynda Lukow
The cascade offered the music. The priest provided the words. Connor bestowed the kiss.
She had never attended a more glorious wedding.
Connor set her on her feet, but held her elbow as they turned toward the crowd. He shouted for all to hear, “Lady Kasey Mackintosh.”
Almost as one, every man along the riverbank unsheathed his sword, dropped to his knee, and pressed the blade to his brow.
Kasey gasped.
“Each man pledges his life to protect ye, wife.”
The sixty or so men assembled in an orderly line. One by one, they rooted their torches into the soft riverbank, bowed, and presented themselves to her.
Connor halted the procession and pulled her aside. “I dinna expect ye to remember each man’s name.”
“I be glad to hear that, milord.”
“Yet aught vexes ye.”
“The lads stand amidst the men. Have they no respect for their elders?”
“In battle, seasoned warriors have authority, but elsewhere every Mackintosh be as important as the next.”
“Save ye.”
Connor nodded. “And ye.”
“Nay, milord. I be but yer wife.”
“Ye have much to learn.” He smiled in anticipation of the joy he would have teaching her one of her duties. The thought alone sent blood rushing to his loins. “Let us finish this task.”
After the last man presented himself, Connor ordered them to be ready at first light to return home. He lifted Kasey onto his stallion and swung up behind her. He turned the steed in the direction opposite the castle and waited for Kasey to question their destination. When she did not, he asked the reason behind her silence.
“It be not my place to question ye, milord.”
He sighed. “Yer lessons on being a Mackintosh begin now. While ye may not publicly disagree with me, ye may ask me aboot aught when we be alone. When others be near, ye may give advice, but ye may not rage if I fail to heed yer counsel. Understand?”
Kasey nodded. “The castle be the other way, milord. May I ask why we ride this way?”
“Yes, ye may.” He could not resist teasing her.
A few moments passed before she sighed. “Mayhap I dinna word my question well. To where do we ride, husband?”
Connor chuckled. “Ye learn quickly, my dear. Alas, this time I shall not answer yer question.” He laughed when she pinched him. Her spirit seemed to be on the mend. “Forgive me, but I wish to keep our destination a secret.”
She mumbled she disliked the unknown. For fear she would think he mocked her, he suppressed his laughter. After they rounded a bend, he halted the horse.
“The hunter’s cottage?”
“Och. Now ye ken my secret.” His attempt to sound disappointed failed miserably. Kasey’s laughter sang.
He dismounted and handed the reins to the lad who awaited their arrival. “Remember to bring him back at first light, and I shall see yer effort adequately compensated.” He walked toward the cottage, then stopped. He turned back to Kasey, still mounted, and bowed.
She giggled as he pulled her into his arms.
“I can walk, milord.”
Unwilling to lose her touch, he carried her into the cottage. He decided against setting her directly on the bed, though desire begged him to amend his plan. Instead he set her in a chair by the table covered with an array of food.
He knelt, placed one of her daggers on the table, and then removed her boots. He sat in the chair next to hers, then quartered and cored an apple. Rather than handing the slice to Kasey, he held it before her mouth.
His blood heated when she nipped the fruit. “Do ye believe Adam loved Eve?”
“Mayhap,” she shrugged, “but would he have chosen her had other women lived?”
“I believe God made her for him, just as He made ye for me.”
“If ye wish to compare us,” Kasey picked up another slice of fruit, “then I should offer ye the apple.”
Connor took the fruit from her fingers and held it out for her to bite. “Mayhap by reversing the roles, paradise be just beginning.”
He wanted to keep Kasey’s mind busy. If given too many quiet moments, her thoughts, like her gaze, would dwell on the pallet. He stroked her cheek and waited till her eyes met his. “Do ye trust me?”
Again her eyes wondered over to the feather tick. “I shall not fight ye.”
“What do ye ken of the private times a husband and wife share?”
Kasey blushed. “Very little. Some women proclaim it foul. Others call it wonderful.”
“Did ye ken aught aboot the marriages of the women who despise their duty?”
She pursed her lips. “Most who claim the act vile have wretched husbands.”
“And those who enjoy the marriage bed?”
“They think their husbands nigh to saints.”
“I be no saint, but do ye think me wretched?”
“Nay, milord.”
“In private, I prefer ye call me Connor.”
She hung her head. “I fear my tongue might slip, milord.”
He nudged up her chin.
“Will ye be angry if I call ye Hunter?”
“Hunter be fine.” His grin soon sobered. “Do ye trust me?”
At Kasey’s nod, he pulled her onto his lap. “Dare ye deny the attraction atween us?”
“Nay, mi-Connor.”
With the tip of his tongue, he moistened her lips. “Ye be sweeter than any apple.”
He kissed a path from her mouth, along her jaw, to her ear where he nibbled the lobe. He ran his hand down her arm. Her gooseflesh heightened his pleasure.
She twisted on his lap and craned her neck to the side.
He took the hint and mouthed a path down the column of her neck. Her sighs encouraged him to nip his way across her throat and repeat the loving assault on the other side.
She slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck.
Her wild rose scent, her apple taste, the way she played with the hair at his nape drove his heated blood downward. Though he would no longer be denied, he needed to slow down. Their coming together would mean naught if she did not find pleasure this night, too.
He kissed his way back to her lips and took full possession of her mouth. He groaned when she complied with his tongue’s request and willingly opened her mouth. Reveling in the textures and taste, he wanted more.
His hands slid around her waist and found the leather thong at the end of her braid. Need shook his fingers too much to unknot it, so he tugged it off. With as much care as his desire allowed, he undid her braid and wrapped the silken strands around his fists.
She rubbed her breasts against his chest and pulled his head closer. Her bottom wiggled restlessly against his arousal.
He carried her across the room and gently laid her on the pallet. She moaned after he tugged his mouth from hers. He sat on the edge of the pallet and gazed down at her. He had seen naught as beautiful as his wife’s passion-clouded eyes.
“Milord?”
He smiled at her breathlessness and pushed a few errant strands from her face. “Milady?”
“Do I not please ye?”
He looked up at the ceiling. The woman had no idea that slowing the magic she conjured demanded every bit of his strength. But she would know passion and ultimate release before he gained his own.
She sat up. “If ye tell me what ye wish, I shall do better.”
“If ye do any better, ye will kill me.” He leaned in to kiss her as he untied the laces of her kirtle and chemise. His lips crept from hers, down her neck, and along the skin he bared. After he returned to her mouth, he pushed the gown and rail to her waist.
As soon as he leaned back, her hands flew up to cover her breasts.
He caressed her cheek. “I wish to see ye.” He held her gaze while his hands slid down to her wrists. She offered no resistance when he drew them away. He brought his index finger to her mouth. Her lips trembled as she kissed it.
She shook her head.
He nodded, then unlaced, and removed his tunic. Though he craved her touch lower, he placed her hand on his chest. His breath caught at her icy touch. “Can ye feel the thunder? Only ye make me feel this way.”
He doffed his boots and then removed his trews. He said naught when she turned away for the sight of his sex might only increase her wariness. He slid next to her. “I wish to kiss ye agin, wife.”
His heart leapt when she leaned into him. He poured his love into his kiss, but when her tongue pierced his lips, passion overruled.
He pressed her down onto the pallet and lay next to her. As their tongues dueled, his hand drifted to her breast. Her peak hardened under the pad of his thumb.
His lips blazed down her throat, to gently suckle one sweet, hardened berry. When he lifted his head to move to the other, she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer.
He rolled over to cover her body. His tongue pillaged as his hands slid along her sides to push her kirtle and rail past her hips.
Unable to rid her of the damned garments, he bounded from the bed and plucked her to her feet. The fear in her eyes stopped him from rending her clothes. He pulled her to him and laid his forehead on her shoulder. Within a few moments, he calmed and edged the garments past her hips.
Lust blazed anew as her hardened nipples teased his chest, her center pressed against his thigh.
“How long I have dreamt of holding ye.” He kissed her as he lifted her high enough for their cores to meet. He nearly came apart at the contact.
He laid her down and enveloped her. He kissed her closed eyes, her nose, then brushed his lips over hers.
As their tongues parried, her body, like clay, molded to his whims. His blood rampaged. Perspiration bathed them. He shifted so he could skim his hand along her breast, down her belly, and over her hip. He moistened his fingers with her dew, then caressed the core of her womanhood.
She writhed against his hand.
He could endure no longer. He eased his hips between her legs and replaced his hand with his manhood. “Look at me, Kasey.” She did not heed him quickly enough. “Now.”
She opened her passion-clouded eyes.
“Forever. Say it, Kasey.”
“Forever, Connor.”
“I shall never hurt ye again.” He thrust into her velvet sheath. She cried out and pushed at his chest. Though he craved to plow her fold until he reached his peak, he stilled his hips, grasped her hands, and licked away her tear. “Bear with it, love. Our coming together will make it worth yer while, I swear.” Connor again kissed and caressed, licked and nuzzled, nipped and suckled Kasey into willing submission.
When she moved her hips against him, he resumed his dance. So hot, so wet, so tight, he could not hold out long. Her breath soon quickened. She clawed at his back. He raised her legs to his shoulders. Each thrust rubbed her knob.
Her body trembled. She called out his name. With one last thrust, he joined her at the peak of love.
Chapter Twenty One
Kasey felt like a flower wilted by the summer sun.
She could not staunch the tears that rolled onto the face pressed against hers. Nor could she dry them since Connor’s hold bound her. She wished she could breathe. Though she loathed any distance between them, she needed air. She wiggled her hips.
He did not move.
She might have killed him, except his breath feathered her chin. She pinched his bottom. “I canna breathe.”
He grunted and rolled to his side.
Before she could mourn the loss of his heat, he pulled her into the crook of his shoulder, and rested his hand on her hip. She sighed and wiped the moist trails from her cheeks.
“I be sorry I hurt ye, Kasey, but after ye heal, our mating will bring naught but pleasure.”
“How long will this healing take?”
Connor’s hand tightened. “Mayhap a day or two.”
“That long?”
He embraced her. “May I assume ye found our coupling as pleasurable as I?”
Her heart stilled. If she confessed she had, she would admit herself the whore the Cameron had so often called her. But if she said she had not, she would begin her marriage with a lie. “He spoke the truth.”
“Who?”
“Laird Cameron.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “What did he say?”
She did not wish to mar this night. “Worry not.”
“I shall ask ye but once more.”
She moved to the edge of the pallet. If she could pull a cover from under Connor, she would flee his reach.
“Kasey?”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She found the strength to whisper, “He called me a whore time and again, and he be right.”
“Nay, wife.”
“Ye swore to speak the truth, yet ye lie agin.” Chills coursed through her. She covered her chest with her arm and turned to face him. “Mayhap ye do deserve me. A whore and a liar be a match made in Hell.”
His growl reached her a moment before his hands. He wrested her back to the pallet, dragged her legs to the center, and straddled her.
She tried to sit up. He pinned her shoulders. She closed her eyes, pictured the falls, and waited for lightning. Not only was she a whore, but a fool, too. How could she have been so stupid as to anger a man twice her size?
She would be damned if would cower. She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Ye be no different from the others.”
His nostrils flared. “Ye dare compare me to the Camerons?”
Kasey jutted out her chin.
Connor’s gaze traveled from her face to his hands. He leapt off the pallet. How could she compare him to those animals? He had done naught to—
Dear God, he had pinned her to the bed. He had held her against her will. She did not know him well enough to believe he would never strike her. He had only intended to make her listen to him.
He glanced over his shoulder. Kasey had pulled her legs to her chest. Her head rested on her knees. Had she thought to make herself a smaller target? Nay. She tried to hide the tears her shuddering shoulders proclaimed.
He wrapped her in his arms. He hoped her wee struggle meant she really did not want him to release her. “What makes a woman a whore?”
She sniffled. “She enjoys a man’s touch.”
“Not always. A whore endures many men’s touches, usually for personal gain.”
She looked up. “But before this night I had never experienced heaven at a man’s hands.”
He chuckled.
She frowned at him. “I speak the truth.”
“I ken ye do, else ye would not have felt any pain.”
“Then why do ye laugh?”
“Because ye realize not the compliment ye gave me.” He kissed her nose. “Yer passion makes our joining more pleasurable for us both. Ye need not be ashamed.”
Needing a distraction, Connor crossed to the table and gathered some fare. He turned and bit back a smile. The cover Kasey had pulled up to her chin did little to hide her body. He regained her side. She loosened the blanket just enough to cover his renewed arousal.
He pushed it off. “I prefer to be bare in bed.” And ye soon will, too. He cut a slice of cheese and handed it to her. “As long as we be discussing bedtime rituals, ye will remove yer plait each night.”
She swallowed. “But, milord, my hair looks like a rat’s nest in the morn.”
He handed her another bite of cheese and a hunk of bread. “Then, milady, ye will just have to rise early each morn so I may plait it before I attend my duties.”
They finished their repast in comfortable silence. Connor leaned over to blow out the candle and then pulled Kasey to his side. He kissed the top of her head. “Ye can sleep on our way home, but I canna.”
She tried to pull
away.
He pulled her back to him and groaned when his manhood nestled between her buttocks. Exhaustion eventually triumphed over desire, but he could not rest until he voiced a promise, “I shall never strike ye.”
****
A knock sounded as Connor pulled on his second boot. He glanced over his shoulder at Kasey and hoped she would heal quickly. He doubted he could resist her for long. He pressed his eyes into his upraised palms. The woman could turn a lamb into a wolf.
At another pound, he crossed to the door and jerked it open.
“It be a lovely day, Laird Mackintosh.”
Connor looked over the emissary’s shoulder at the horizon. “It be a bit too soon to tell. The sun has not yet thrown off the cover of night.”
“Ye must be getting soft, laird. Ye rose earlier during yer service.”
“I be sure aught more important than the time has brought ye here.”
The emissary nodded and pushed past him. He walked over and kissed Kasey’s cheek. “How be ye this morn, milady?”
“She be fine.”
“Did ye cut out her tongue, laird?”
Connor strode across the room until the toes of his boots met those of the emissary’s. “If ye be seeking a fight, Broderick, I would be happy to please ye.”
Kasey placed a hand on each man’s chest. She turned to Broderick. “I be fine, father.” She looked up at her husband. “I thought ye two got along.”
“We do—when he leaves off his bothersome questions.”
Kasey sighed. “If ye two want to lock antlers like stags battling for territory, far be it from me to interfere.”
A rap on the open door drew everyone’s attention.
Connor shook his head at the half-asleep lad in the doorway. He had not asked his mount returned this early.
Broderick smiled at Connor, then walked to the door. “Thank ye, lad.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and handed him a coin.
“Broderick—”
“Aye, laird?”
Connor clenched his jaw. He had much to say, but did not wish to distress his wife. “Did ye ask the lad to bring my mount early?”
“Aye, milord.”
“Why?”
“Because the king wishes to see ye afore ye leave.”
“Ye may tell him I shall be there after I break the fast with my wife.”
