Captured by a Laird

by Loretta Laird

  “I pity the poor fool who shares his bed,” she said into the empty room.

  As she spoke, Lena dwelt on the soft caress that he had stolen when he touched her face. Her heart began to race at the sensation as it replayed within her. She felt an ache like none she had felt before; an ache that caused her to imagine his touch running over the remainder of her body. Her face flushed and her inner core began to pulse with a life of its own. Lena felt a jolt run through her and struggled for breath as her body convulsed. Her nipples hardened and she yearned to reach down and touch them. She stood up, trying to rid herself of this new yet wholly pleasurable sensation.

  At that moment, the lock clicked again and the door swung open. Stref stood there, his large frame filling the space where the door had just been.

  Lena gasped and jumped back to the bed, pulling the skin, covering up around her as if to hide her disloyal body.

  Stref stared at her. His eyes darkening as he took in the scene.

  “I may be a prisoner, but I would ask for you to knock first,” she said boldly.

  “And I would ask that you stop making demands. As I have said, I am the Lord here and I do as I please.”

  “Not with me you won’t,” Lena spat. “You have your own whore, leave me alone.”

  Stref laughed a low dangerous rumble that caused Lena to pull the cover a fraction further under her chin.

  “If I wanted to have you, nothing would stop me. For now, I choose information. You will answer my questions.”

  “I will not!” she argued. “I may be your prisoner, for now, but I will not tell you anything that would jeopardise the safety of my people.”

  “The same people that saw you dressed as a mercenary and taken like bait from a hook?” Stref retorted.

  “It was you that took the wrong captive,” Lena was growing hot and angry. “I was riding with my group, and you just attacked us.”

  Two pairs of eyes met and stared at one another, each determined not to back down.

  “I have sent a messenger to Rwenor. Your Green Bow will soon know I have you prisoner. He will come for you and he will die.”

  Lena paled. She knew they would come for her. How many would die for her stupidity? Val would be the first to ride. He had cared for her since she was born, and had been as a parent to her since the death of her father. What fate would he or any others meet at the hands of Stref Harris? Lena’s eyes pooled with tears as she thought of the massacre that her beloved clan would be facing.

  Stref’s brows furrowed as he travelled across the room in a few easy strides. Reaching out, he extended his forefinger and flicked up the large tear that spilled from Lena’s eye. The gesture itself was gentle, yet the words that accompanied it harsh.

  “Trying those female tricks will not deter my revenge,” he snarled.

  Furious at her own weakness, Lena brought her own hands up and roughly rubbed her face to rid it of the telltale sign of her vulnerability. Her cheek glowed where his touch had been, and Lena rubbed harder to erase the sensation.

  “What if this Green Bow does not come?” she asked.

  “Oh, he’ll come,” Stref spoke, leaning down again so his face was level with hers. “I would risk any kind of death to reclaim a beauty such as you. I would kill a whole croft if I thought any had touched what was mine.”

  Lena let a tiny moan escape her as Stref’s gaze met hers just inches apart. The tip of her tongue poked out to moisten the lips that suddenly felt dry and cracked. Stref growled. His eyes darkened and he leaned forward to claim her lips in a crushing embrace.

  Lena tried to pull back, but the kiss was relentless. Stref’s strength was bruising her previously unkissed lips. His tongue probed into her mouth, seeking out each corner with its dominance. A large hand reached up to hold her head fast whilst another traced a line down to cup her left breast. Lena tried to fight, but then stilled as the strange sensation, which had recently come upon her, returned. She closed her eyes as a blazing trail coursed through her body, pulsing delightfully in her inner core. Unable to fight the feeling, she responded to the passion that assaulted her. Her tongue parried and her hand entwined in the thick hair that curled at the nape of Stref’s neck. Never had she experienced such an internal commotion. Her head was screaming at her to fight and run whilst her body held her fast, savouring the sweet feeling that she wished would never end.

  All too soon a cold rush filled Lena’s body. She opened her eyes to meet the cold grey eyes of Stref Harris.

  “Once a whore always a whore,” he said. “You are good though. I nearly fell for the innocent tears. What was the plan this time, to get me into bed then sneak back to him? Sorry, lady, but I am on to you. I don’t need you in my bed. I have more than enough women here for that. You are here to bring my enemy to his death; nothing more.”

  He turned and stalked from the room, leaving Lena trembling in his wake. She raised a hand to her lips, touching the sensitive skin.

  How dare he, she seethed inwardly. He called her a monster, but her clan would never take a soul and treat them in such a way.

  Lena stood and paced the room. She needed to think. She needed to rid her head of the thoughts, which her disloyal body would otherwise have her dwell. She needed to devise a plan to save her people.

  Chapter Four

  In another room, on the far side of the keep, Stref too was pacing a room. He had removed himself to the furthest chamber in the place, to try to rid himself of thoughts of the whore who dwelt above him. Just being in the next room was proving too difficult for his peace of mind, and it was driving him to distraction. He seethed after his encounter with the chit whose eyes seemed to reach into places he allowed none to enter. A soft hand on his arm startled him.

  Anna gazed beseechingly up at him. “Can I help to ease your troubles?” she flirted outrageously.

  Stref looked down into her eager face. He wanted to want her, needed to want her, to rid himself of the bewitching eyes that already haunted him.

  “Not now,” he found himself saying as kindly as he could. He did not miss the flicker of hurt that crossed her face and which was quickly masked by a bright smile.

  “Your loss,” she called back over her shoulder as she flounced from the room.

  “Prepare the prisoner some food on a tray,” he called after the swaying hips that were exiting the room.

  Stref fidgeted as he waited for the tray to be returned. Soon, Anna emerged from the kitchen carrying a carved wooden tray laden with slices of cold meats, a hunk of bread, and a pitcher of water. A rosy apple completed the ample feast.

  “I will take that!” said Stref, snatching the salver so roughly that he almost upset the water that it contained.

  Anna shot a look of disdain at her Lord; then retreated back to the safety of the kitchens.

  “That didn’t take long,” she mumbled sulkily as she left.

  At the door to the locked chamber, Stref paused. The punishing kiss that he could still taste on his own lips thrust itself to the forefront of his mind. He rapped loudly on the door, smiling at his etiquette. Not waiting for a reply, Stref used his key to gain entry. A bulge in the bed told Stref that his captive had decided to catch up on some rest. As soon as the thought left his head, he knew the girl he’d faced earlier would not give up without a fight. The corresponding crack on his head confirmed his suspicions as an antler fell at his feet. He threw the tray aside and immediately shot out his hand to clasp the wretch’s wrist.

  “Going somewhere?” he growled.

  Stref grinned ruefully at the grunt of frustration that he heard as he pulled her back towards the bed. He rubbed his head as he fastened the door shut.

  “If you have damaged my uncle’s prize antlers, you will suffer my wrath,” he said through gritted teeth in a vain attempt at humour. He was damned if he was going to let this little whore see that she had inflicted pain upon him.

  “My people have suffered enough of your wrath,” the she-cat spat with venom.

/>   “As have mine at the hands of your champion,” he retorted, suddenly serious.

  “We seek to drive raiders from our lands, nothing more.”

  “What would a little thing like you know of the destruction your Green Bow is responsible for? I could introduce you to widows and orphans who have suffered at his hands. When he is not warming your bed, wench, he is the harbinger of death.”

  “No!” the small woman’s hands rose to cover her face as she paled under the verbal attack.

  Stref looked at her dark eyes widening in horror at his accusations. She must know of the raids her clan had facilitated. Surely, they returned as triumphant heroes to Rwenor?

  “Rwenor seeks only to be left in peace,” she explained, her voice shaky. “We… They would never do the unspeakable things you accuse us of. It is Harris men who burn our homes, rape our women, and steal our dignity.”

  “We come to raid your stock. My men are not killers, and none would take a woman without her consent, or they would face my wrath,” Stref spoke with passion.

  “Then who is responsible for the carnage?” Bewilderment laced the female’s tone. “We hear the raiders talk of their laird, Stref Harris.”

  “And we hear the name of Rwenor brandished like a battle cry,” Stref explained, realisation beginning to dawn in his eyes.

  Silence fell between them as each tried to wrestle with the revelations.

  “Your food is spoiled,” Stref gestured to the upset tray that adorned the floor.

  “I hunger not,” she shook her head.

  “May I know your name?” Stref asked.

  “Erm… Milly,” the captive retorted quickly.

  “Milly, you will remain my prisoner until your champion comes to save you. I will then have him answer for his crimes.”

  “He will not come,” she said softly. “Rwenor’s safety is more important than mine.”

  Stref laughed a short humourless laugh. “I think I know men better than you, and I say he will come. He has already had a night without the comfort of your body to warm his bed. Even now, he will be planning your release.”

  “A real man would not put the safety of his clan before the desires of his flesh.”

  “How many real men do you know?” Stref asked his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone.

  The rosy flush that stained the cheeks of the woman on his bed caused Stref’s manhood to spring to life once more. This whore really did have him undone. He considered taking her just to satisfy his lustful curiosity, but that was not the way he treated women. He liked it when they wanted him, begged him, and whilst he was confident that this girl could be easily persuaded, he did not trust her enough to lose control over a pair of smouldering eyes.

  * * * *

  Lena searched Stref’s face for a hint of malice in his words, but she only saw genuine curiosity, and something that caused her body to tighten and her breath to catch in her throat. Lena may not have known a man in the intimate way that Stref Harris thought her capable, but she knew when a man looked at her that way, what his mind was imagining. Since her early youth, men had been eying her in that way. Lena noticed the subtle darkening of Stref’s eyes as he stared at her. An escape plan began to form in her head; one that she may live to regret.

  Lena stuck her tongue out and ran it over her dry lips. She fixed her gaze to the man before her and followed her tongue with a slight nibble of her teeth. Her nerves were on edge and yet she could not tear her eyes from him. Lena noticed Stref move from one foot to the other, a slight twitch pulsed at the side of his neck as he clenched his teeth. These small gestures gave her the confidence to proceed. Adjusting her position, Lena lowered her shoulders and pushed her ribs forwards, knowing her breasts would strain on the thin material of her garment. Lena stood and took small, slow steps towards her captor.

  “Maybe there has been some misunderstanding.” She tried to lower her voice to a husky whisper. “Maybe I do not really know how a real man thinks.”

  Stref’s fists balled at his sides as Lena stood before him. She took a deep breath ready to commit to the course of action she may have foolishly decided to pursue.

  A sudden sound at the window caused Lena to scream. She reached out instinctively, and grabbed the man before her. The screeching of Pride as he battered helplessly against the bars and then took flight, circling the tower with desperate cries, caused Lena’s heart to palpitate, the sound of it rang in her ears. The rise and fall of her breasts pushed against Stref’s chest, causing her nipples to harden at the contact. She felt hot, and the pulsing heat that seemed to fill her when he was near, started to pool between her legs.

  A low growl made Lena shudder as she raised her face, longing for another taste of the lips that had claimed hers earlier.

  “Ask me,” Stref demanded.

  “Kiss me,” Lena breathed, obeying him without question.

  Stref’s lips came down hard and fast. His tongue darted into the moist warmth of her mouth, claiming her with a dominant fury. Lena pulled herself close to him, bringing her body alongside his. Her hands snaked around his head bringing him down to her, fully absorbing him into her embrace. Warning bells sounded in her head, but it was too late, Lena felt the hard length of Stref’s arousal. There was one place she longed to feel him, and that place throbbed with anticipation of his possession. Desperate to convey her need, Lena pressed herself closer to Stref, her hips moving with an instinctive rhythm.

  The second onslaught of the bird at the window drew the pair apart. This time Lena pulled away from the giant man and raced to the aid of her pet. She called out soothing words as the creature wailed a lament. At the sound of his mistress’s voice, Pride calmed and took off again. Lena sighed with relief as she turned to face the man who she had so wantonly seduced.

  “Clever,” he nodded, his hands clapping slowly in mock admiration. His dark eyes had turned from soft grey to flint as he looked at her with disgust. His lip curled as he turned to leave. “Get some rest,” he snarled.

  Chapter Five

  Stref locked the door and then leaned on the frame. His breathing was irregular and he needed something to hold him steady.

  What manner of woman was that?

  Lifting a hand to his lips, he touched where hers had been. He recalled the way she had stalked towards him like a predator. Her hands on the back of his neck pulling him closer had touched something deeper in him than he ever chose to go. It was the reason he alternated his women and never kept the same one for too long. When they wanted more from him than he was prepared to give, he pulled back and moved onto the next one. The woman who remained locked behind that door had only to look at him with those dark eyes and he was thinking of things he had never let himself dwell on.

  He pulled himself upright as a thought entered his head. What if that had been the plan? What if she had been sent here to seduce and distract him? Maybe there was an enemy attack headed his way.

  As soon as the thought entered his head, he ran. Racing down the stairs, Stref burst out of the keep and into the courtyard.

  “Call the men!” he barked out the order in a harsh tone. “Saddle the horses! We ride!”

  Soon a flurry of activity filled the yard as men and horses gathered to depart.

  “What is this all about?” a tall warrior asked his Lord.

  “A trap, Clyde! That whore upstairs, she was sent to distract me.”

  “And has she?” The younger man, Clyde, looked at his Lord with a questioning tilt to his eyebrows.

  A loud guffaw was the only reply he got.

  Clyde was the only one who would have dared question the Lord of Harris. The two had been friends since childhood. On Stref’s regular visits to his uncle’s keep they had hunted and sparred together as brothers. Clyde was the son of the guardian of the keep, and had been the one dispatched to bring Stref home to claim his title. Reunited, the two men had hit it off at once, and Stref relied on Clyde to assist him in all things related to his duty.

&
nbsp; As the horses left the keep, the golden eagle maintained its circumnavigation.

  “Damn loyal bird,” Stref noted gruffly.

  “Thought that bird was the mark of Green Bow,” Clyde commented innocently, “same as that cape and the bow and arrows we collected. Seems a coincidence they were all found on the wench.”

  Stref rode on musing on what Clyde had said. There was a niggling at the back of his mind that he couldn’t ignore.

  “Where are we headed?” Clyde’s question broke into Stref’s thoughts.

  “Rwenor,” he replied. “There is something I need to discover.”

  “Rwenor?” Clyde sounded incredulous. “We’ll be shot down as soon as we come within a league of the place.”

  “Not today, I think,” Stref said.

  Riding on in silence, Rwenor got closer and closer, and the men became more anxious. Pulling his horse about, Stref turned to his men.

  “Wait here!”

  “What?” Clyde reached for his friend’s rein.

  “I do not wish to cause a battle. I must speak with these people.”

  “But Green Bow? You have his woman. He will not welcome you.”

  “I think I will not see Green Bow here today,” Stref said with a smile. “I will send the signal if I need you. Listen for it.”

  Stref rode towards the croft of Rwenor. He passed by small dwellings where men worked the land and cattle grazed. Many heads turned to watch the stranger approaching, but a lone rider posed no real threat to the people. Riding closer, Stref noted a cluster of blackened husks. Buildings that had once stood now crumbled like gnarled roots. Burnings had affected this area just as they had his lands. Stref knew that his men would not stoop so low, which only left the forces of Haigh and Fogert. If only Rwenor had not retaliated on his land, he may have been able to provide protection for them. The reputation of one warrior would only shield them for so long, until the two overlords devised a new way to claim this arable land. Spurring his mount onward, Stref came to the walled croft that he sought. Bowmen lined the walls and soon had him in their sights with bows raised, poised and ready to strike.