by Reece Butler
To spank her wouldn’t he have to bare her bottom? And if he saw that, wouldn’t he want to touch her more? Perhaps kiss her? Her body hummed at the thought.
They barely stopped the rest of the day to eat, drink, and take care of nature. By the time they crossed a few branches of the River Conon and rode through Dingwall she was cold, exhausted, and sore. For the last two miles she’d thought of nothing but a hot bath in front of a fire at Clan Munro’s Tulloch Castle, dinner on a tray, and then smooth sheets to slide into. Robert Munro was a good friend of Laird Fraser. Though he and his new wife lived at Foulis Castle rather than Tulloch, she expected to be well treated.
Instead, Cormac told her to take care of the horses while he and James ate in the hall. They said they’d bring her food. If she was tired she could find a bed in the straw. With no other choice, “wee Alan MacDougal” did her work, grumbling to herself. She was so exhausted by the time she was finished that she laid her Menzies plaid on a bed of straw and rolled up in it. She was delighted when one of the cats condescended to cuddle up to her.
The men were correct, of course. For the ruse to work she had to be treated as if she were a younger cousin serving them. It was for her own safety, but that didn’t make her any warmer, or fill her belly. It did, however, give her an idea of what type of life the MacDougal brothers had known. If she found a way to convince them to marry her, and her father sent them away, life at Duncladach might be little better than this. It would still be better than daily beatings, and worse, from William. She closed her eyes, sure the horses would warn her of trouble. The purring soothed her to sleep.
Pain exploded in her ribs. She cried out, instantly awake. A lantern showed three boys glaring down at her. The cat was gone, the stable dark. How long had she slept, alone? She jammed her teeth together, keeping in her gasps of pain. These were bullies and would attack if she showed fear.
“Are ye a barstard like yer cousins?” demanded the one with the lantern.
She croaked something unintelligible.
“All MacDougals are barstards,” said the middle one, sneering down at her.
She wanted to stand up for the clan yet did not want to egg them on. She put her hand on her knife. If another foot were to fly she would slash it.
“Kick it agin’,” urged the smallest, no doubt happy to have them pick on someone else.
“What’cher doin’ with me wee cousin?”
Cormac appeared behind them. The lantern lit his face from below, making his scowl and bushy eyebrows look even more terrifying. He grasped the collars of the outside two before they could run. His bulk kept the middle one in place.
“Nothin’! We was askin’, uh,” said the one with the lantern.
“If he had extry boots,” said the middle one.
She’d not thought to remove her boots, or anything else, before collapsing. If she had she might have been riding without them the next day. She had a lot to learn about life beyond a lady’s solar, and needed to do it quickly.
“James is outside,” said Cormac to Alana. He took the lantern and turned his scowl on the boys. They backed up. “If ye come near me wee cousin agai’, ‘twill be far worse for ye. Out!”
They took off. A roar at the doorway sounded like James encouraging them to keep going. Cormac crouched down beside her. He dropped his head.
“I promised ye’d not be harmed yet ye were. I’d wring their necks, but it would bring notice.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Never again, lass.” He scrubbed his chin with one hand, sighed, and looked at her chest. “Where did they kick ye?”
“Who said they kicked me?” she replied with a burst of bravado.
“Hush. Show me afore I look for meself.”
She shook her head. A lazy smile appeared. His eyes blazed in the lamplight.
“Lift yer shirt. Lad.”
“Nay!” she squeaked. It wasn’t fear of his touch that had her heart pounding. Quite the opposite. She was afraid of melting into a puddle of need. His eyes widened as he leaned closer.
“Aye. Ye show me, or I look. ‘Tis yer choice. Mayhaps I’ll be liftin’ yer shirt a wee bit higher than ye wish.”
She sat up, wincing as new aches and pains from riding made themselves known. She lifted her shirt. He put his chilled fingers on her skin. She gasped. He pulled back, frowning.
“Does it pain ye that much?”
She shook her head. “Nay, ‘twas the surprise. Your, um, fingers are cold.”
His look changed from concern to something far different. The delicious quiver was back. She tried to inhale but couldn’t.
He winked. “Me fingers are nay cold. Ye are hot.”
“Why do you speak that way, as if you’ve never been schooled…” She stopped, realizing whatever she said would come out as an insult. He lifted an eyebrow.
“Yer father had me beaten so I’d speak the way he thought proper. He ordered I be turned from an ignorant bastard into a Highland man. I can speak very well, my lady Alana.” His deep, formal whisper made her eyes widen. “When I wish to.”
His fingers slid across her skin, calluses leaving tantalizing trails of heat. How had she thought his fingers cold? His eyelids closed halfway, like a purring cat. She found it difficult to breathe, though it had nothing to do with her sore side or the bindings.
“I’ll kiss it better for ye, lass.”
Her mouth dropped open as his face approached her body. The prickle of whiskers woke her skin before soft, wet lips branded her. His touch took only seconds yet it changed everything. Cormac woke needs she instantly craved more of. His hand snuck around her back and then dropped to her bottom. He patted her, making her squeak in surprise.
“James will be in with yer supper. There’ll be more of this later if ye wish it.”
“You won’t…” She couldn’t say the word out loud. “What you said when you were going to get me all wet?”
“Ye mean, will I spank ye this night?”
She nodded, her face flaming.
“Nay, not this night. Ye have sore ribs.” A broad smile rose, as if he’d thought of a joke. “Ye may get wet, but nay from a river.” He stepped back. “Ye’ll feel better on the morrow. And we’ll not have company when we camp.” He hung up the lantern. “We’ll not leave ye alone again.” He strode from the barn out into the dark. A bellow of frustration followed.
She carefully sat up, pleased with herself. She had done that to him? He wanted her, even if just for her body. She hid her smile. Maybe she had a chance of snaring herself a MacDougal husband or two. She needed to marry them quickly but did she have the nerve to do the seducing?
Chapter Eight
“She near swooned when I kissed it better,” declared Cormac with a smirk, meeting James halfway between the stable and the castle gate. “Alana likes my touch.”
James bit back a curse. He’d hoped to do more than guard Alana this night, but they had no choice. They’d been surprised to find Munro here at Tulloch Castle. It allowed him to fulfill his messenger duties soon after they arrived. He’d then eaten and placed bread and cheese in the kilted folds of his plaid for Alana. He held a jug of ale to share.
He and Cormac had drawn straws, and he’d lost. He’d be sleeping in the hall while Cormac protected Alana in the stable. It wasn’t just the other lads that could be a problem. If Alana had a nightmare and cried out not only would she scare the horses, her scream would be that of a grown female, not a young cousin.
It was the first time sleeping in a stable, rather than indoors by a fire, held more appeal.
“Ye’d best get to the hall. The meat will be gone,” he warned Cormac.
“Aye, ye’re right. I may stay a wee while and drink with the guard. They may speak of routes to ease our travel.”
“We’ll get more on the morrow from Colin MacKenzie when we stop at Castle Leod.”
“What?” Cormac bared his teeth in a snarl. “That’s west of here and we’re going east!”
He returned his brother’s baleful glare. “I’ve messages for MacKenzie from Somerled as well as lairds Cameron and Fraser. Munro said he’d have a letter for me to take as well.”
Cormac rolled his eyes in frustration, but James took his messenger responsibilities seriously. Helping the lairds showed the MacDougal clan in a good light. James knew why his brother complained. He’d like to have Alana to himself as well. Laird MacKenzie would not allow them to share quarters with a lady unless at least handfasted. He had many men who’d be eager to marry Alana.
“After the long ride today ‘tis best tomorrow be slow, easy, and short,” he said.
“Aye. The, ah, lad’s arse will be sore.” Cormac brightened. “I should massage the wee laddie’s pain away.” He smirked, shifting from one leg to the other. “I’ve got a pain needing a hand to make it better. Or a—”
“Eat!”
James strode downhill, his rising cock bouncing with each step. A plaid had some advantages. He could walk through water and let his legs dry. He could easily take a leak. It also allowed his cock to swell. Walking when aroused, rough wool brushing against the sensitive tip of his enlarged cock, was not as much fun. His shirt came to mid-thigh but the head of his cock dipped under it when aroused. The combination of pain from the rubbing, and pleasure from arousal, had him cursing.
“Maybe she’ll kiss it better,” he muttered, then groaned as his cock swelled even more.
He hoped Alana was innocent enough, or too much of a lady, to notice. She was sore and hungry, and her needs came first. He’d seen the stable lads eating in the hall so they’d be alone, just horses and likely a few barn cats to share the stable. He found her right where they’d left her. She rose to her knees, offering her Menzies plaid to him.
“Would you hold this for me and turn your back? My binding’s too tight. I canna breathe.”
He put down the ale, set the bread and cheese on the top of the sidewall where he hoped the cats wouldn’t find it, and took the plaid from her. She would strip to her skin. If he saw her he couldn’t not touch, so he held it high. Soft sounds of cloth rustling had him imagining her curves. He hadn’t seen her in a gown since she was a lass of fifteen. Had she changed? Her tight breeks showed her arse was full, a double handful and more. Riding behind, he’d watched her squirm on that saddle, rubbing herself against it all day. He hadn’t missed her soft sighs of arousal and need, either. Riding with a hard cock had not been pleasant. He’d far rather ride Alana.
“The knot’s too tight, James. I need ye to undo it.”
Oh, God! “Are ye sure?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Look for yourself.”
James stepped into the stall, draping the plaid over the open end to block curious glances. Was the knot at her back? No, it was between her breasts. He had to sit with her kneeling to see it. Her breasts were hidden yet he knew they were there. Sweat beaded his brow. He touched the knot with a finger. She inhaled, then choked.
“I canna breathe!”
“Lass, ‘tis so tight it’s best if I cut it. Do ye trust me?”
Those light blue eyes blinked a foot from his face. “I’ve trusted you all my life, James MacDougal.”
He choked at her declaration. Her simple words made him want her even more.
“Lift yer arms over yer head. I dinna wish to nick ye.”
He used his sgian dubh to carefully slice through the silk knot. It was easier to unwrap her with her arms up, so he did it quickly, stopping when it began to loosen on its own. She did not lower her arms.
“Please, James. Take it off.”
“Ye wish me to touch ye?”
Her eyes darkened. “Aye. I burn for ye.”
Oh, thank God! She was no longer an innocent miss unsure of what her smile suggested. She was five-and-twenty and had never felt joy from a man. She may not even have touched herself or experienced such pleasure before riding today. He wouldn’t lie with her but he would show her a man’s touch could be enjoyable.
He moved slowly now, stroking her with his fingertips as he revealed her skin. He was not quite finished when she inhaled. Her breasts burst out, making him groan. Her poor skin had angry streaks of red where the seams had pressed into her. He trailed his fingers over them, wishing his touch could erase them. He snarled when he saw the bruise forming where the stable lad had kicked her.
“Kiss it better, James.”
He could no more ignore her pleading than he could ignore his need to breathe. His lips sought her nipple, already erect. He gently suckled her, flicking his tongue. She hissed, her hands dropping to clench his hair. His hand found her other breast, grasping it. That nipple pressed into his palm. It would soon have a turn.
He worked his tongue, testing each of the bumps that ringed her. Her gasps, and the way her fingers grabbed him, proved she enjoyed his touch. This was for Alana’s pleasure, not his. If he gave her a taste of the joy they could bring her she’d be far more willing to marry them. He wasn’t sure which of them was doing the seducing. He didn’t care as the result was the same.
He switched nipples, pinching as he flicked it with his tongue.
“More,” she whispered. One hand dropped from his head to rub the seam of her breeks.
He’d watched her grind her pussy and clit against her saddle all day. He would show her he could make her feel better than a saddle even if it killed him to touch her with only his fingers and mouth!
Leaving her nipples wet and hard, he undid her breeks. His fingers slid over her soft flesh as he slid them down her thighs. She helped shove them down. He brushed her belly with the back of his knuckles, making her skin ripple.
“I dinna wish ye to put yer back on the straw, lass. Will ye lie on my plaid? I’ll keep on my shirt. Ye’ll nay lose yer maidenhead from me.”
She frowned, her face clearing so fast he wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not. She nodded, so he undid his belt. He knelt and spread his plaid, giving her a soft bed. She lay back and stretched her arms, arching her back and innocently offering her breasts. She wiggled as if to get comfortable in the straw.
Was it innocence, or a planned seduction?
He groaned again, deep in his throat. She looked so damned enticing he could barely hold back. Her eyes dropped. They widened as her lips parted. Her chest rose and fell quickly. The pulse in her neck fluttered. He looked down. There was a wet spot on his shirttail, caused by the tip of his eager cock. Still staring at it, she licked her lips.
No, it was not by chance that she lay back so sensuously. She was going to drive him past the brink! Two could play this game. He would torment her, only he’d push her past any control. She was going to shatter into pieces before he was finished with her!
James leaned forward to remove her breeks. If she didn’t mention the hard cock pointing at her, neither would he. She waited, watching him as he set his hands on her waist. Her nostrils flared at his touch. He slid his hands over her hips, letting his thumbs drag as they reached toward her pussy, then went down her thighs. In seconds she was naked.
Her flaming red hair lit the straw, far brighter than that on her head. Her full breasts slid sideways. She had a narrow waist, flaring hips, long legs, and dainty feet. All this, and the intelligent, frustrating woman inside, would be his to share with Cormac. Soon.
“Ah, ye are a bonny wee lass,” he murmured.
A blush rose from her pussy to flow over her breasts and face. Her hands were in fists at her side. Not in fear or anger. Perhaps she had to hold herself back from reaching for him?
He set his hands either side of her ribs, leaned over, and returned his attention to her nipples. Once she was gasping again he brought one finger to her pussy. He circled her clit, watching her face. She shifted her ankles apart, opening her thighs in invitation. Her scent rose, making his balls constrict with the need to claim her.
Not this time. Cormac was older and would be the one to marry her. He would receive her maidenhead but James would be the first to slide his
tongue into her slick pussy. He sank his finger between her folds. Her whole body shivered.
“This what you want?”
“Oh, aye, James!”
He suckled her nipple again, flicking it and pressing it against the roof of his mouth before rasping it against his teeth. Her eyes closed, leaving her mouth open to haul in air. He put his finger right on her clit and pressed. She gasped and opened her thighs even farther. Could she have an orgasm from this alone?
“Put yer hands on yer breasts, Alana. Do what feels best.”
She did as ordered, squeezing her breasts and then pulling on her nipples. He had to taste her. He slid his hands under her tight arse cheeks and lifted.
“What are you—?”
“Hush.”
He lowered his mouth to her pussy. One taste and he almost came. But this was for Alana. He would have another chance, another night. No! It would be tomorrow, on the way to Castle Leod.
His tongue slipped between her folds. Her eyes were closed, her head back. Seeing her play with her breasts turned him on even more. If Cormac was here they’d take care of her together. All she’d have to do was to feel. But this was his time.
She thrashed, slamming a fist against the plaid beneath. She was close, and he would push her over. He concentrated on her clit. It swelled even more under his tongue. He’d never done this with a woman though he’d listened late one night at Duncladach as Gillis told all the brothers what to do. He’d bluntly added if they could learn this any wife would be far more satisfied, and a satisfied wife makes for a much better life.
James drew the letters of the alphabet on her with the tip of his tongue. He was up to N when her groans and pleas said she was ready. He suckled her clit, hard, and was rewarded with a gush of liquid. Still sucking, he flicked it with his tongue. She stiffened. A moment later she exploded, gasping and bucking under him. Though grinning in triumph, he kept his tongue going until she slumped.
