His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  When he removed the last of her clothing and held her close to his hard length she sighed and held him tightly. "Ye can, Tavis. I am sure of that if naught else."

  He made love to her slowly, taking his time and using all his skill to bring her passion through the heavy layer of her grief. She did not halt him in any intimacy he took, wanting to lose herself in a feast of her senses. Becoming a total voluptuary, she feasted upon him, her lips and hands tasting every inch of him, luxuriating in him, following his hoarse requests and directions without any qualms. She wanted to push away all thought of her loss for just a little while.

  Tavis feverishly wondered who was warming whom as time and time again her gifted mouth drove him to the brink only to pause, keeping him at the heights yet never allowing him to descend. He quickly saw that she hoped to lose herself, if only briefly, in a wanton feast of passion, and told her all that he wanted, reveling in the ecstasy that she brought him. His eyes never left her as she pleasured him, the visual heightening the effect of her inborn skill.

  When he knew he could take no more he drew her up his body slowly. He kissed her, the taste of himself upon her lips causing him to shudder with need. As his mouth moved to her breasts, his hands traveled over her greedily. He suckled and tongued her breasts until she moaned and ground her hips against him. Then he made his way slowly downward, pausing to dart his tongue in and around her navel. He ignored her gasp of protest when he moved even lower to let his mouth pleasure her as hers had done to him.

  Storm clutched the bedpost, her eyes closing as waves of pleasure washed over her. His hands caressed her backside as his tongue stroked and probed. She cried out as she neared her peak, but he stopped her attempt to retreat, relishing the gift of her passion, and then skillfully brought her back to the edge of culmination before pulling her shaking body down to fit it neatly to his. His eyes never left her as she rode, his hands moving over her in a restless greed, cupping her breasts and gliding down to touch where their bodies joined. They peaked together, their hoarse cries of repletion blending as she collapsed against him.

  "Nay," she begged as he moved to separate them. "Just a moment longer. I need the closeness."

  Silently complying with her request, he held her as she fell into a sated sleep. If nothing else, he mused as he settled her beneath the covers and rose from the bed, I have helped her find that oblivion. As he dressed, he studied her, sympathizing with her grief but selfishly pleased to know that she would be staying indefinitely now, would continue to bring him sensual delight.

  "How is the lassie?" Colin asked when Tavis was admitted to his chambers.

  "The major storm is past, but 'twill be a while ere the pain of loss eases. She will stay?"

  "It looks so. There be nay another place for her and the lad to go."

  Tavis nodded and turned to leave only to pause in the open doorway as he recalled Storm's words. Colin could be lost as easily and as suddenly as Lord Eldon. He had already come very close to death.

  "Father?"

  "Aye, Tavis?"

  "I love ye," he said quietly and hastened away, feeling lighter of heart but leaving a very startled Colin behind him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frowning, Tavis watched a force equaling half of their fighting strength ride off to Athdara. It was not that he begrudged the MacBroths assistance, but he was plagued with doubt as to their need. He grimaced, chiding himself for being fanciful only to turn around and meet two sets of worried amber eyes. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he invited them to put voice to their concerns, although he was not at all sure he wanted to hear them. He had enough of his own worries and would prefer them put to rest.

  " 'Tis a bad time for ye to be short half your armed force," Storm said, feeling suspicious and worried, but lacking the facts on which to base her feelings.

  "Aye, there be no arguing that, little one." Tavis draped his arm over her shoulder. "There has been nary a raid to pay back the one we made upon Hagaleah.

  The uncertainty of your fate held it off, I think."

  "And now my fate has been decided," she said softly, the pain of her loss still fresh, and felt Tavis's arm tighten on her shoulders. "Sir Hugh and Lady Mary need not hold back for the sake of my safety."

  "Do ye think Sir Hugh still wishes ye to be his bride?"

  Storm shrugged, but Phelan had an answer ready. "Her fortune still remains. 'Tis already in her hands, put aside as her dowry for when she weds or her livelihood if she does not. He could still need that."

  "Mayhaps he will wed Lady Mary?" Storm mused, but felt it an empty hope even as she spoke it.

  "Mayhaps, but 'twill not gain him much. Ye know your father left most of his wealth and property to his heirs. Her two sons hold that now, though 'twill be in trust 'til they come of age. He said he had made an allowance for me, and he left no small amount to Mistress Bailey and the children they share. Though I doubt he left her penniless, I would wager Lady Mary is far from the wealth she feels a need for."

  Tavis's brow creased in a frown at this news. "Then Sir Hugh could well wish to retrieve Storm."

  "But surely 'twould be easier to pay the ransom than to try and storm Caraidland?"

  "Aye, sweeting, it would, but mayhaps they feel that is just what we would think. They hope to lull us into a false sense of security." He muttered a curse. "I wish I had thought upon all this ere I had sent out my men. Nay. Nay, I cannae think that the MacBroths would deceive us so."

  "How far a ride is it to the MacBroth keep?" Storm asked, wishing that Tavis sounded more certain.

  "An all goes weel, they will reach there by nightfall. Any mishap and they will need to camp, not reaching there until day's dawning. If there is no trouble at Athdara, the soonest they would return is by tomorrow night. That means at least eight and forty hours at half strength, possibly more. Let us pray that Sir Hugh hears naught of it, for he could, if informed, be at our gates at day's dawning."

  In troubled times spies were abundant, and there was one at Caraidland. Although he knew his use as a spy would be ended by the venture, the man made haste to Hagaleah. His excuses for leaving would mean that he could reach Sir Hugh with the news of this opportunity before his absence was questioned. This was the chance Sir Hugh had sent him to watch for.

  Sir Hugh was growing very tired of waiting, always waiting and never acting. He lay sprawled upon Lady Mary's bed, frowning up at the ceiling. His devious mind was awhirl with plans to keep most of Lord Eldon's fortune within his grasp by aiding Lady Mary in her quest to hold onto it. He also plotted to regain hold of Storm, whose fortune would be his alone once they were wed. There was no fear of a long stint in the marital noose, for Lady Mary would be more than willing to help him become a grieving widower.

  Lady Mary turned from the table where she had been brushing her hair and strolled to the side of the bed. Sir Hugh was her favorite amongst her many lovers, for he was as amoral as she. Her other lovers tended to balk at some of the variations she suggested, but Hugh never did. As she studied his fine physique she tugged her bell rope. A smile touched her face as she thought of the surprise she had for him. This would be a new twist and would momentarily divert his mind from all his scheming. Her bedroom was for entertainment, not plotting.

  "Bored, m'dear?" he drawled, his eyes studying her robe, which showed more than it hid.

  "You must admit that you have been a little preoccupied of late."

  "There's a great deal to think about. Storm possesses a fortune and I want it."

  "And her. I think your lust for my dear departed husband's daughter comes mostly from her refusal of you."

  "She not only refused me, she insulted me," he growled, his fists clenching, "and she was party to my humiliation. For that she will pay, and pay dearly. No woman does that to me."

  "There now, Sir Hugh, your chance will come, but for now, a little surprise." She smiled as a slender, lovely girl of Moorish descent entered the room. "What do you think?"

  "Beauti
ful," Sir Hugh said as his gaze took in the girl's gentle curves, shown to advantage in a nearly transparent gown of the finest white silk. "Where did you find her?"

  "My sister sent her to me, for her husband was too fond of the girl." Lady Mary touched the proof of Sir Hugh's own attraction for the girl. "As you could be. Care for a closer look?" When Sir Hugh nodded Lady Mary slowly disrobed the girl. "She has many talents," Lady Mary purred as she watched Sir Hugh greedily eye the slim, brown-skinned girl. "Shall I demonstrate?"

  Nodding, Sir Hugh watched as Lady Mary began to caress the girl. He watched avidly as the girl discarded Lady Mary's robe and the two women began to make love in earnest. Moving aside when they fell onto the bed, hungrily pleasuring each other, he briefly envisioned Storm in such a tangle. That proved too much for his already strained control. He moved behind Lady Mary and fiercely possessed her. When the three lay in a damp, sated tangle he grinned at her.

  "Your surprises are ever a delight. Who is it?" he bellowed when a knock sounded at the door.

  " 'Tis your kinsman, Lawrence, returned from Caraidland. I have news, Sir Hugh," the young spy announced.

  The two women slipped beneath the covers as Sir Hugh donned his robe. He curtly ordered Lawrence inside to deliver his message. The young man's eyes stayed fixed upon the bed as he told Sir Hugh about events of Caraidland. He had heard tales of what went on in Lady Mary's chambers, but he had doubted them. As the young man struggled to recall all of his information, he realized the sin-filled, whispered tales were all true.

  "So the little bitch still lives?" Lady Mary asked, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her breasts.

  Lawrence swallowed hard, for her movement had left the Moorish girl exposed to the waist, and his gaze was fixed with hungry fascination upon full brown breasts. "Yes. She remains Tavis MacLagan's lover."

  Seeing how the news angered Sir Hugh, Lady Mary could not resist goading him. "Your prize will be well trained ere you gain it. I wonder what skills a Scotsman could teach a woman?"

  That drove Sir Hugh into a tirade filled with bloody vows of vengeance. Lady Mary smiled as he stormed about her room. Then, bored with watching that diversion, she turned her attention to Lawrence. Seeing the direction of his gaze, she let her hands play over the Moor's full breasts until the dusky tips were taut, and Lawrence was plainly having trouble breathing. Slowly, she moved her hand downward, taking the sheet with it. The Moor purred when Lady Mary found her goal, and Lawrence looked near to choking on his own lust as he watched.

  Sir Hugh stopped his ranting and watched their games in disgust. "I am off to gather my men. This is too good an opportunity to ignore. I intend to raze Caraidland and send those MacLagans to hell."

  Never stopping what she was doing, Lady Mary purred, "And gather your fortune."

  "Aye. I will bring that Eldon whore back here on her knees," he snarled. "And on her knees she will stay."

  "A position you have a particular fondness for," Lady Mary drawled, meeting his scowl with a smile.

  It was hard to think of anything but how those long, pale fingers were playing over the Moor's dark treasures, but Lawrence managed. "My reward?" he croaked as the Moor arched and revealed more of herself.

  "Ah, yes." Sir Hugh exchanged a speaking glance with Lady Mary, who nodded. "A reward you shall have, kinsman, never fear. You have served me well," he said, and he slapped the young man on the back as he left the room.

  Finding himself alone with the two women, Lawrence took a tentative step toward the bed. Lady Mary smiled, beckoned him closer and silently invited him to take his enjoyment of the Moor. She watched with a mild interest that grew as he hurriedly shed his clothes, uncaring that he would be observed as he sought his pleasure. Seeing that Lawrence was as endowed as his kinsman, Lady Mary's smile grew, and she slowly removed her thin covering.

  "White meat or dark meat, my fine young man?" She arched like the voluptuary she was.

  Placing a greedy hand between each woman's shapely thighs, Lawrence drawled, "I have e'er been a man of diversified tastes. What say you to a bit of both?"

  A smile crossed Lady Mary's face as she squirmed beneath his touch. "I say prove your worth."

  Lying on his back on the bed, Lawrence settled the Moor upon himself. With a grin, he then grasped Lady Mary by her hips and pulled her toward him. She returned his grin as she decided that she would wait a while before she killed him. There were several combinations she wished to try out first.

  * * * * *

  Sir Hugh knew he would not reach Caraidland by nightfall. The days grew shorter, and his kinsman had used up most of the day bringing the news to him. Nevertheless, he assembled his men, determined to cover what distance he could before dark. If luck was with him, he could begin the attack at dawn's first light. He hoped his move would catch the MacLagans by surprise, but he did not count on it.

  When Storm was not returned after the ransom had been refused he had begun to plot ways of attack that would cost him the least while gaining him the most. Lawrence's place within Caraidland, gained when Storm had first been taken, had been one way to help him in that plan. The lad's use was now at an end, and Hugh felt no qualms about being rid of his kinsman. He smiled grimly, knowing how Lady Mary would make use of the unsuspecting young man before she killed him with a heart as cold as his own.

  Thoughts of Storm made him grind his teeth in frustrated rage. She was a thorn in his side, in his pride and in his purse. He lusted after her, yet she refused him. Her spirit was the sort that would not allow total dominance, and that drew him, for he ached to crush it, to see the proud beauty grovel before him. Once he had her back in his hands he would show her the true meaning of humility. No woman looked down on Sir Hugh Sedgeway.

  Included in his plots for revenge was many a one for the Scottish stallion that had taken what should have been his. The fact that the proud Eldon bitch would take a reiver to her bed before she would take him was an insult that was hard to swallow. He would do his best to see that Tavis MacLagan died, preferably in a slow, agonizing way before the eyes of his English lover. Sir Hugh savored the vision as he rode.

  Not all of Sir Hugh's force was pleased to be riding to battle. Lord Eldon's death, as well as the heir's, had put them firmly in Lady Mary's control with little hope of release, a fact they found distasteful. Many of them were trying to convince themselves that their vows of allegiance need not extend to the widow, whom many suspected had personally engineered her own widowhood. Unfortunately in this case, they were honorable men, and their oath meant much to them. Disgruntled and unwilling, they nevertheless rode on.

  When they camped for the night they were but an hour's ride from Caraidland.

  Fires were kept small and shielded so that keen eyes at Caraidland would not guess what advanced upon them. Sir Hugh was not surprised when Lady Mary, her new toy, the Moor, and her burly, handsome personal guard arrived. The woman wanted to be in at the start of her stepdaughter's downfall. In her thinking, it was Storm's fault that she had never enthralled her husband. She was also curious to see the man who had dishonored Storm Eldon.

  Setting up her elaborate tent, she retired inside with her entourage, later to be joined by Sir Hugh, and indulged herself in an orgy that further alienated their fighting men. Honor demanded that they transfer their allegiance to their liege's widow, but honor was severely strained when that woman was an immoral whore, a woman who belonged in a brothel, not an earl's keep. Many wished for a return of their lord, grieving anew over the unprovable treachery that had brought him down.

  * * * * *

  Lord Eldon was doing his best to reach his keep, but he was still many miles away from Hagaleah. He and his grim-faced troops rode hard for home, eager to face the pair who had engineered the assassination attempt that had been so nearly successful. A false report of the attempt's success had been sent back to his keep and, although he was sorry if the news caused any grief to some of those at Hagaleah, Lord Eldon was eager to see the faces o
f those who had tried to kill him when he miraculously returned from the dead.

  The one assassin they had caught alive had told wild stories of happenings at Hagaleah that chilled the blood. Worst of all his news was the report that Storm was at Caraidland, had been there for all of the summer. Although he ached to head directly for the MacLagan's keep, Lord Eldon knew he had to go home first if only for fresh mounts and fighting men. He cursed the fate that had taken him to France, kept him there while all that mattered to him was brought to ruin.

  Another anger burned in him, and that was over the knowledge that his home had become little better than a whorehouse. He had been aware of his wife's voracious appetite, but his presence had always kept it discreet. If only half of what that man had said was true, Lady Mary had thrown discretion to the four winds with a vengeance. He wondered how many of his people had suffered under the yoke of her immoral rule. The whore he had married had turned an honorable, well-respected keep into a place of unwholesome debauchery. For that alone he could easily kill her.

  Watching the expressions upon his old friend's face, Lord Foster felt sympathy for Eldon. While his home had not escaped corruption, it did not seem to have fallen so far. That bitch from Sussex had muddied Lord Eldon's name and that of his ancestors. It was an insult the proud Lord Eldon would long grieve over, for it would take some time to erase the stain.

  Eldon swore harshly as he sat around a campfire with his son, nephews and friends. " 'Tis bad enough to have married the slut, but now the whole world knows what an ass I was. God's beard, I can almost be glad that MacLagan has Storm. At least she is away from that corruption called my wife."

  "That man said that Lady Mary intended to refuse the ransom. What will happen to Storm and Phelan then?" asked Andrew, hoping his father would deny the thoughts that were churning in his head.

  He did not, only looked at his son and asked, "If you had a lovely young lady in your grasp for the length of the summer or longer, what would you do?" He sighed over his son's downcast face. "I have little doubt that they were honorable until the ransom was held back. Then, who can say." He smiled grimly. "They have always been the best of enemies."