“A thing I need to tell you about the girl who occupies our upstairs room is that we do not just have a whore from Rwenor that I have taken a fancy to. Her name is Lena. She is the clan chief of Rwenor. Our nuptials will ensure an alliance that lasts for generations to come.”
Stref paused. Something held him back from telling his men that she was also the legendary Green Bow. He wanted to know something about Lena that was his alone to know.
“A truly fortunate capture then,” Clyde said.
The other men nodded in agreement.
“We must send word for the elders of Rwenor. They must be informed that Lena is safe. The holy man must also be traced. I also plan to extend an invitation to Fogert. If we can persuade him to join our alliance, we can crush Haigh as he deserves to be crushed.”
After directing his men to their assigned tasks, Stref, Lord of Harris, found himself alone in his hall. At once his thoughts turned to the female who occupied his upper chamber. Turning on his heels he left the room with a wolfish smile.
Chapter Twelve
Lena lay back, luxuriating in the warm, scented water. All her aches, pains, and chills slowly ebbed away. The design of the bath was deep and long, allowing her to submerge her head. As the water dulled her hearing and the breath caught in her throat, Lena allowed her mind to linger over the touch of Stref Harris. His big, coarse hands exploring her slender body incited the now familiar feeling of arousal deep within her. Lena arched her body in the deep water, revelling in the warmth it provided.
Suddenly, a cold blast hit her as her naked form was pulled roughly from its watery cocoon.
“You look just as I imagined you,” Stref’s voice blew across her tingling skin, causing her to shiver in anticipation.
Stref, once again pulled himself free of his plaid and encased her within its soft warmth. Any thoughts she had about being perturbed that she had been wrenched from the comfort of her bath, were replaced with the familiar course of blood to her loins in the presence of this mighty warrior. He stood her carefully onto the floor then sank to his knees and set about the deliberate task of drying her shuddering body. With the edge of the cloth, he traced a path of desire across her naked form. The softness of the fabric, combined with the look of desire in his eyes sent shudders through Lena’s body, making her knees tremble.
Lena captured her full bottom lip with her teeth to prevent the cry of desire that threatened to escape.
“Something to say?” Stref murmured cajolingly.
Lena shook her head, frantic with the waves of constant pleasure that pulsed through her body. The fabric, being moved in slow circles was dominating her every thought.
“Please?” she cried, releasing her lip and reaching out towards Stref.
Unsure if she wanted to stop him or pull him in closer, Lena snarled with frustration. This man was quickly becoming her undoing. She could ill afford to turn her back and her mind to her people and their safety.
Stref paused in his systematic assault of her senses and looked up at her with a sly grin. He pulled the plaid slowly from her and cast it aside; then moved his hands in slow circles across her flesh, imitating the path that the material had traced. Lena gasped as he seemed to be touching her everywhere. Her skin burned as his touch intensified and grew more demanding, bringing her to the edge of reason.
“My every thought is you,” he purred, his hands relentless in their domination of her slender body.
Lena began rocking on her heels; she was unsure how long her legs would hold against the delicious invasion of her senses. Her hands reached forward again, finding the soft length of Stref’s hair then burying themselves within its lushness. She pulled herself closer to him but froze as his moist tongue darted out and tasted her womanly core.
Lena bucked as Stref used his hands to part her petal-shaped folds, revealing the dark pink flesh of her inner heat. His tongue teased and licked the hard nub as his finger slid easily into her. In and out he moved as his tongue circled and flicked alternately.
A scream was all that Lena could manage before her legs finally betrayed her and buckled. She fell heavily against Stref who turned to catch her and pulled her onto his broad torso. Lena bent forward, her long hair splayed across Stref’s muscled chest. Her lips reached out to claim his. At once she tasted the musky tang of her own arousal. Lena deepened her kiss, desperate to stir a matching passion in the man before her.
She did not have long to wait. Stref matched her passionate kiss with fervour. His hands cupped around her bare buttocks and lifted her onto his massive length. Lena gasped as Stref filled her. He pulled her against him and filled her again and again. Each entry was more delightful than the last, and each caused the dramatic build up of ecstasy.
Cry after cry burst from Lena’s lips as tears streamed down her face. Stref matched her outburst with primal grunts and finally a satisfied curse. Sated, the two lay sprawled on one another, sweat mingling with the remnants of moisture from the steaming bath.
“I am sorry,” Stref spoke into Lena’s dark, damp curls. “I vowed I would wait until our nuptials, yet I could not get the image of you bathing from my head.”
Lena blushed prettily, lowering her eyes. “I have never felt the way you make me feel,” she confessed. “I have spent my life protecting, defending, no time was left for…for…well, for anything else.”
Stref pulled her in for another deep embrace. “Words like that will not make it easy for me to leave you to prepare,” he said as he broke away.
“My people,” Lena said, raising herself to a sitting position. “Haigh will rain down his wrath against them. I must go. Our wedding will have to be postponed. I have to leave.”
“You will not leave,” Stref was also upright as the words left him. “My best men are riding to Rwenor. They will accompany Val and a small contingent of your clan to attend our union. Guards will stay to protect your croft. I have also sent for Fogert. He may be persuaded to make an alliance with us. Together we will make a formidable enemy.”
Lena looked thoughtfully at the giant man before her. A man who could fire her desire yet protect her people. Her heart swelled as she realised the truth of her feelings.
“Thank you,” she said simply, her traitorous eyes once again deceiving her with a moist display of emotion.
Stref’s own eyes were hooded. He swallowed hard then turned his back.
“Be ready in one hour,” he said brusquely before leaving the room without a backward glance.
Chapter Thirteen
Stref’s chest rose and fell as he gulped big lungfuls of the fresh air that bit through the open courtyard. He had left Lena wide-eyed and confused as he cowardly retreated from her simple gratitude. The woman who occupied his chamber had penetrated deep under his skin, further than any ever had before, and it scared him. He was happy to protect Rwenor, and it was more than just because of the fertile lands it offered, yet how could he convince his people that the feared Green Bow was not responsible for the terror for which he was blamed? To find that Green Bow was not a merciless killer, but a brave and devoted girl who was defending her kin in the same way that he was. The same girl had successfully wormed her way into his cynical heart was a complication that he had not prepared himself for.
As he descended the stairs, Stref’s gaze flicked over the sparse hall that was now adorned with boughs of green. The laden branches created an enchanting aisle that was ready for the bride. Stref gave an approving nod. He then set off in search of Clyde, dismissing the feelings of excitement that bubbled up inside him.
Just keep telling yourself it is for the good of the Harris clan, an inner voice teased him.
Clyde stood tall in the middle of the courtyard. He was deep in conversation with the men Stref had sent to Fogert.
“What news?” boomed Stref as he approached the group.
“Fogert rides!” the relived guard was happy to report. “He took the news with great mirth, and hopes to see the ‘squirming face of Haigh.�
��”
The young man’s paraphrasing of Fogert’s words brought a smile to the lips of the laird. “I hope he will,” he added.
Turning at the sound of approaching hooves, Lord Harris’ smile widened as he observed a healthy contingent of Rwenor’s men riding towards the keep. They were flanked by his own guards, but camaraderie seemed evident among the two clans. An air of festivity was abound and its joy contagious.
Rocking back on his heels with a satisfied glance around the space, Stref could see a bustling of people as they prepared for the feast. Fires blazed and meat roasted with a fragrant aroma, women fussed and primped, and men gathered in small groups, drinking mead and loudly proclaiming the pros and cons of the blessed institution that their laird was to become a part of. As he took in the scene, Stref noticed the slow progress of a hooded figure that emerged from the side door of the keep, and was relieved to see the familiar robes of the holy man.
The highlanders were known as an ungodly race, yet the presence of the nomadic holy men was a constant in the untamed surrounds. Moving from clan to clan, the devout men would attend to the births, deaths, and marriages in exchange for a soft bed and a hearty meal. This was given willingly by the big-hearted highlanders, and a night of storytelling and companionship usually followed. Each clan loved to hear tales from their rival crofts, and relished each snippet of scandal or outrageous anecdote.
The man, who now stood before Lord Harris, raised his wizened face to look at Stref.
“Laird,” he spoke with a soft lilt.
“You are most welcome here holy man.” Stref bowed respectfully.
“I ask to see the bride,” the holy man said with an air of authority. “I will not wed a lass that is unwilling to the act. Some of my brothers will perform such a duty, but I ask for compliance on both sides of the union.”
Stref looked at the solemn man for a time before he spoke. “I would ne’er force a lass to be my wife. Lena is the clan chief of Rwenor. We unite to strengthen our lands.”
“Nevertheless, I will meet her,” insisted the holy man quietly.
“When you do,” Stref laughed, ‘you will see that none could force her into anything she did not want to do!” He indicated for the man to follow before leading the way to the spiral staircase. “Top of the stairs, and then keep right until the end,” he directed.
As the small man disappeared from sight, Stref found himself wondering what Lena would say about him. He was astounded to realise that he cared for her good opinion.
“Damn the witch,” he growled.
“Now that is no way to speak of your intended.” Clyde came up from behind and clapped his friend firmly on the shoulder. “It seems all are set for the festivities except you. Come, greet our guest from Rwenor, and then I shall help you dress. Your plaid seems to have been misplaced,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Allowing himself to be led away, Stref was glad for the support of his closest advisor. His mind was certainly distracted of late and he, once again, blessed the fact that he had not been called upon to battle in his current state of mind.
Val greeted Lord Harris with a cautious courtesy. The men that surrounded him were not as polite. Their black stares and the constant presence of their hands on their sword hilts made Stref uneasy. It had been he that had given the order not to disarm the men from Rwenor. He wanted their allegiance and thought that a show of trust may help him gain it. The sight of the swords had brought a gathering of Harris men around the new arrivals. Their looks of mistrust were adding to the tension.
“I want to see Lena,” Val said firmly.
“Join the queue!” scoffed Stref. Again, he marvelled at the loyalty that Lena inspired in her clan.
“I see no sign of the golden eagle,” Val added. “It never leaves Lena.” His final words were spoken with a harsh accusation.
“The bird rests,” Stref tried to explain to a sea of unconvinced faces. “It has certainly maintained a vigil here, but now it rests.”
“I will see for myself that she is well. Do not make me regret trusting you, Harris.” Val pulled himself up, thrusting out his chest in a challenge.
Stref glimpsed, for a split second, the man Val had once been—a big and imposing warrior. “I’ll show you where she readies herself,” he agreed.
As the two men mounted the stairs the holy man was making his way down.
“Now there is a lassie that would not be forced into marriage,” he said.
Val joined Stref as laughter filled the air and, for the second time that day, Stref showed a man to the corridor where his betrothed resided.
Chapter Fourteen
Lena smoothed the creases of the soft fabric down over her stomach. Inside it a war of nerves was being waged. The holy man had just left. It had taken her a while to convince him that she was in agreement with regards to the wedding. Her tear-stained face had told him a different story when he had first gently knocked upon her door.
Now Lena heard a new rap on the heavy wooden entry. This time it was accompanied by a call.
“Lena lass, are you in there?”
“Val,” cried Lena joyfully. She pulled open the door and flung herself into the old man’s outstretched arms.
For a while the two souls clung to one another, each glad at the other’s safety. Finally, they pulled apart and regarded the other.
“Tsk, that will not do,” Val said. “You canny wear the plaid of Harris.”
Lena was dressed in a simple white shift dress with the heavy plaid of Harris draped over her shoulder and secured around her narrow waist.
“It is all I have,” Lena admitted.
“Take mine then,” Val said, unwinding his own rich-green fabric, covering and swapping the two garments over.
“Val, are you sure?” Lena’s smile caused a dimple to dance at the corner of her mouth.
“If I wasn’t, I am now,” Val returned her smile. He stood back to admire his handiwork; then unpinned his own intricate clan brooch and fastened it to the vivid orange and brown plaid.
“You look beautiful, lass.”
Tears once again welled up in Lena’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“Now are you sure about the choice you’ve made,” Val asked. “We can always ride out and return you to Rwenor.”
“Haigh is an enemy I would not wish upon Rwenor. With the alliance of Harris, we will have a greater chance to avoid his wrath. Stref Harris is a fair man. I am a willing accomplice to his plan.”
“I see you have the answer you seek,” Stref’s voice made Lena jump; then made her telltale body respond with welcome heat. Her cheeks flamed.
“I see that you are,” chuckled Val. “Let us begin this wedding then. In the absence of your father, I would ask that I have the honour of presenting you as the bride.”
Lena looked to Stref who nodded his assent.
“I see you dismissed the plaid of my clan,” Stref noted with a darkening of his eyes. “As my wife you will be expected to dress as one of my kin.”
“I enter this marriage as clan chief of Rwenor,” Lena bit back, her own temper rising at his tone. “I will wear the colours of my croft.”
Val’s chuckle ebbed the mounting tension from the pair who faced each other, eyes blazing. “I told you she was a fiery one, lad.”
“As part of the marriage, I will swap the plaid,” Stref compromised. “You will enter the hall as clan chief of Rwenor, but leave it Lady of Harris.”
“But…” Lena began.
“There will be no further argument,” Stref said turning to return the way he had come. “I will see you both downstairs.”
Lena looked at Val and shrugged with resignation.
“You will let him have his way sometimes, lass,” he coaxed. “Men have a great deal of pride that may need a delicate hand to nurse it.”
“Huh!” Lena was less than impressed. “I am sure I will have better things to do than play nursemaid to the precious pride of Lord Harris!”
With h
er chin raised, she felt her cheeks burn as she followed the path that Harris had just taken.
At the bottom of the steps, Lena paused, her bravado deserting her as the enormity of the task lay before her.
Val took her hand and tucked it under the crook of his arm in a fatherly gesture. “You have never looked lovelier, my dear.”
Lena smiled, her cheeks dimpling at once. “Thank you, Val.”
Quite a crowd had gathered in the hall, so many lingered in the entranceway making it a tight fit. The aisle loomed long before her as Lena prepared to take her first step towards the man who waited, his eyes fixed upon her, at the other end. Behind him, the holy man bobbed up and down as if still trying to ascertain the compliance of the bride. Lena was sure that if her stomach had not been doing tumble turns, she may have seen the humour in the scene.
“One step at a time, lass; just start with the first.” Val’s voice reassured softly into her ear. “Your ol’ dad would have been a proud man this day.”
“Do you think he would?” Lena stopped and turned her body to face her oldest friend. “He would not have aligned himself with Harris.”
“He would have done what was best for the croft,” Val soothed. “And you are his daughter. We are all behind you, lass.”
As he spoke, he nodded his head in the direction of the crowd. Lena angled her body to follow his gesture and saw faces of her own clan lining the hall. They beamed at her and nodded with encouragement.
“Do they all feel the same?’ Lena asked. “What of the burnings?”
“It would seem as though Haigh’s name may be the one to curse for those. For years he has been causing unrest among the highlanders, burning one and calling the name of another. Hate has festered and he has reaped the rewards of the wars and death. Stref spoke to the croft. He explained. He asked us for permission to marry you. Lass, he had the clan eating out of his hand.”
“H–he did?” Lena asked incredulously.
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