Captive Bride [Highland Menage 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “Tell me about your brothers,” said Patrick. “I have only one, and he’s much younger.”

  “Somerled is the oldest, with his twin, Niall. Tearlach, and Rory are twins as well. When their ma, Socha, died Father made Torquil, Ewan, Cormac, and James on local women before marrying my mother, Maeve. She had Angus and then me, and the twins Malcolm and Duff, before dying. Father didn’t marry again but got Fin and Dougal off a pair of sisters. He brought Mary to the castle as his leman and had Artair and Zander. We hoped he’d marry her as she was kind, but she died of a fever.”

  “Did the bastards live with the rest of ye?”

  “Aye. ‘Twas not their fault our father liked to stray. We’re all brothers, and equal. Other than Somerled, of course, as he’s our laird. He can be fierce so we learned ‘tis best not to rile him.”

  “Ye grew up with a family about ye.”

  The sigh that followed suggested Patrick, as heir, was raised away from other children. If he spent all his time with his father, tutor, and advisers no wonder he thought and spoke as if older.

  “Aye, if ye call a horde of brothers a family. We raised ourselves as Father was usually off getting the Campbells riled or making more brothers. He died after jumping out a window when the lady’s husband came home early.”

  The boy twisted on his lap, removing his warm back and the comfort it provided. Would he live to have a son he could hold like this? He’d protect the lad as his father never had.

  “She lay with yer father though she had a husband?”

  “Marriages arranged between fathers for their own benefit, without asking the daughter, are not always good. This was a young woman married off to an old goat. She’d been in his bed for a year with nothing to show for it. She knew once she swelled with child he would leave her alone. Since he had dark hair like Father, she figured he wouldn’t notice.”

  “She wished to get with child so she could sleep in peace?”

  Gillis chuckled at the boy’s lack of knowledge. He must have been kept on a short leash.

  “Aye, but also ‘tis a rare husband who knows how to make a woman scream in joy or cares to take the time to learn. Father knew how to please a woman. So do all his sons.”

  Thinking about it made his cock twitch. Having it do so with a young boy sitting on his thighs felt wrong. Was his cock jumping because he was facing death without the prospect of ever giving life?

  “I’ve never heard of a woman screaming in joy,” said Patrick softly. “Is it like a man roaring as he finishes with her?”

  Maybe the lad wasn’t so protected after all. If he was kept with rough soldiers he’d not have seen contented wives.

  “Aye,” he replied. “But ye are a young lad and ‘tis not a fit subject for yer ears.” Gillis cleared his throat. “With the Campbell laird gone and the men in their cups ye should be able to slip away this eve.”

  “I said I’d nay leave without ye,” said the lad stubbornly. He settled his shoulders back onto Gillis’s chest with a thump.

  “Aye, ye did,” agreed Gillis, wincing at the blow. “But I canna think how ye’ll get me out of this pit.”

  “Ye lift me on yer shoulders, I climb out, and then I drop a rope for ye to clamber up.”

  “A rope?” Gillis forced a chuckle. “I’ve slid me hands over every inch of this foul place. There’s no rope, though I found rings for chains.” He’d counted his blessings when he’d found them bolted to the wall. At least he was not hanging by his wrists.

  “If we had a rope of woven silk could ye climb it?”

  “While yer at it, wish for a ladder. ‘Twould be easier to climb.”

  “‘Tis nay a wish!”

  Patrick scrambled off his lap. Gillis rose from the cold floor, immediately missing the boy’s heat.

  “Ah, laddie, ye carry a rope when ye go out for a wee ride, yet the Campbells didn’t take it?”

  “Aye. Close yer eyes,” demanded Patrick.

  “Close my…?” Gillis stared at where the lad would be if he could see him in the pitch black. “Why, when I canna see my fingers?”

  “If you wish to get free, ye’ll do it.”

  Gillis did as ordered, quietly chuckling at the stubborn boy’s modesty. Likely Patrick had been raised in a chamber by himself. Perhaps his father’s men took serving women whether they wished it or not, and the lad had seen, and heard the result. He waited, listening to the sounds of cloth rustling before hesitant steps approached.

  “Hold out yer hands.”

  Gillis grabbed at the handful of warm cloth. It was a long strip, so soft his calluses caught on it.

  “Where did ye get this?”

  “‘Twas wrapped around me,” replied the boy sullenly.

  Silk was thin and light, but strong. It was also costly. Why would a boy wrap… Good God!

  Gillis’s heart pounded. His cock rose as if scenting possibilities. There was only one reason someone Patrick’s size would wind silk around their body. Now that Gillis thought on it he realized the hips he’d caught were wide and sturdy yet the waist had been narrow. The silk was warm from having bound the breasts of a young woman from a wealthy family. No husband would allow his wife to dress as a lad, and certainly not ride where she may be captured. That meant the lass was some laird’s unmarried daughter. Had she dressed this way and ridden out as a lark to imitate her brother and been caught?

  No, she must have had long experience acting as a boy. Her language had certainly been rough with the Campbell thugs. It explained why her scent had tantalized him. “Patrick” was a young woman with determination and wit.

  “There’ll be no ransom for ye as you’re nay the heir,” he said bluntly. “Ye are a bastard daughter, dressed as a lad. Why?”

  She shuffled her feet for a few minutes. He waited as patiently as he could. Angus was the thinker and the one who could sit and wait. He liked action. Thinking, concentrating on catching that trout, had allowed the Campbells to sneak up on him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “I’m short, the same height as my half brother. With my hair rubbed with dirt and my chest bound flat I look enough like him to act as a decoy. They call me ‘brat’ and worse, but I be Fiona.”

  Gillis clenched his teeth to hold back his fury at a defenseless young woman being captured by crude men. An heir was worth much gold so the men had not been rough. Yet. Oh, God, if they found out who and what she was they’d… No! He would not allow those bastards to touch her!

  “Why does yer father allow ye to dress as a lad and wonder alone where ye can be caught by the likes of Clan Campbell? He ought to be whipped!”

  She sighed heavily. “I told ye. I be a bastard.” Her feet shuffled in the muck. “I’m too good to be raised as a servant and nay good enough to be a daughter. I was dressed and treated as a lad and kept out of my father’s sight. The laird’s second wife died giving birth to Patrick when I was ten. I helped care for him since then.”

  He waited, but she didn’t continue. “And?” he prodded.

  “He was willful and as I could make him mind I was trained with him. ‘Twas the guard captain that said I should be kept near Patrick as a decoy.”

  “Patrick is like you?”

  “Nay!” she replied abruptly. “I learned to walk as he does, with a swagger. I wore the same clothes and put dirt on my face and in my hair. I go almost everywhere with him. When he escapes, which he loves to do, I am the one beaten. Father brought us here and gave us new guards. They didna expect him to sneak away.” She made a noise of disgust. “Patrick is rarely refused what he wishes so doesna like it when given orders.”

  From what little Gillis had learned in the last few minutes this woman would make a far better laird than her spoiled brother. But few men would follow, or even listen to, a woman. Having so few females, the MacDougal clan valued them. Especially saucy, smart women with curves who smelled as good as they felt.

  “Did ye escape yer guards today?”

  “Aye. Patrick thought it w
as great sport. We must have gone too far south and west. Patrick wanted to pick strawberries in a sunny meadow. Luckily we were surrounded by trees when I saw the Campbells. I told Patrick to hide and I bolted, pulling off my bonnet and yelling as if in fright to draw their eyes. Like hounds, they couldna resist the chase.”

  “‘Twas quick thinking, and brave of ye.”

  “Saving Patrick was my life’s purpose.” She paused. “‘Tis done now.”

  She spoke bluntly, as she was no fool. Her actions had saved the heir, and doomed her. Expecting a large ransom for the heir, Campbell would be furious at her deception. Gillis doubted Fiona would survive one night. She was likely a virgin so the shock would be even worse when the laird took her. The brute might even do it in front of his men. She was the type to fight so he’d beat her. If she survived the night and tried to escape he’d chain her. And when he was bored with breaking her body and mind he’d throw her to his men. She’d be passed around, used and abused until they dumped her broken body in the midden heap. Or perhaps they’d return it to her father as an insult.

  None of that would happen. He would gladly be whipped and tortured by the Campbells if this brave young woman could escape that fate. He’d vowed to save the lad, and he would save the lass. The ways and means would be different, however. He and Angus could bring a lad without a clan home to Duncladach with them, raising the boy as a MacDougal. But Fiona was a woman, and the bastard daughter of a laird.

  No matter how high her parentage a woman could be, and too often was, taken and used by any man who chanced upon her. Fiona could not return to her father. He, and Angus, would give her the full protection of the MacDougal clan. All they needed to do to protect her, was marry her. A simple handfasting, jumping a broom with intent, would protect her for a year and a day. They would not touch her unless she wished it.

  His body burned with hope she would wish it. Keeping his hands off her would be exceedingly difficult. Now that he knew she was female, memories of her sitting on him made him throb. The MacDougal clan was well respected for their fighting ability, but they had no wealth to attract well-dowered wives. Nor did they have daughters to marry off to form alliances. That was why he and Angus hoped to find a wealthy bride, even if long in the tooth or having scandal attached to her.

  Unfortunately Fiona had no dowry, nor wagons of clothing and household items to bring to Duncladach. Though he’d not seen her he admired her grit, honor, and pride. If she accepted being his wife all she would bring to his clan was her body, heart, and mind. That was enough for him. After all, he and Angus had little more than their clothes and weapons, horses, and whatever was in their saddlebags.

  They’d prefer a wife with wealth, but he would marry the girl quite happily as long as she was not a sworn enemy. Angus would have an equal say in any plans, of course. There was still a chance his brother could find a well-dowered wife at Darach’s wedding, though once Angus met Fiona he might also refuse to accept a dolt of a bride to gain gold.

  “What clan are ye?”

  Gillis could almost hear her bristle. She was a feisty one, all right. She’d had to be. Her attitude would have to change when she became his wife, though not by much. While a husband ruled the family, tussling with a feisty woman warmed a marriage bed.

  “I’ll hear yer name first,” she demanded.

  “Gillis MacDougal from Duncladach Castle, near Oban.”

  He waited for her verdict.

  “MacDougals are known as honorable men.” She spoke slowly, as if thinking things out. “I heard they have many sons but no daughters.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis why we search for a well-dowered wife. Are ye spoken for?”

  “Me?” She made a noise of disgust. “Even if I was seen as female no man would want me as a bride. I’m old, ugly, and too opinionated.”

  “Yer father’s clan, wee Fiona?”

  She hesitated, grumbling. “Menzies,” she finally said.

  He released the breath he’d been holding. If he hadn’t been bruised, cold, hungry and thirsty, he would have figured it out already. Menzies held the eastern border of Clan Cameron. Laird Menzies thought nothing of taking whatever he wanted. The man had only visited once while Gillis and Angus had fostered with the Camerons. The Menzies guards had been kept apart, and always guarded. Laird Cameron provided a personal guard for Menzies as protection and to guide him about the castle. It was actually to protect the female servants. Menzies regarded them as little more than a means to release his lust.

  Yes, Fiona would have heard many women scream under men, and not from joy. That she wasn’t terrified of him meant Menzies must have ordered that none touch his bastard daughter. No wonder she had such determination if she was raised under such circumstances.

  The MacDougal clan had no feud with Clan Menzies, so he could marry Fiona. He’d not say anything to her about a future together until the lass saw him cleaned up. They also had to escape from the Campbells, of course. He gave himself a mental slap upside the head for having told her about a MacDougal wife needing to accept two husbands, though she had relaxed against him when he said God approved. The memory of her warmth had his cock twitching again.

  “We’re nay feuding,” he said.

  “Aye.” She walked the few steps possible across the dungeon pit, then back again. He waited, as it was obvious she had something to say. “Though my father be laird I dinna have a dowry to entice a man into marriage.”

  She sounded defeated, as if it was something she’d wish to have. That raised his spirits as well as his cock.

  “I’d rather have a warm, comfortable wife sleeping beside me by the fire than lie awake in splendor with a witch.”

  The only sound was the rasp of her breath. Was it her fever or his reply? She cleared her throat.

  “The foul stench of this place is making me retch.”

  He winced. “I’ve been here two days and nights. I fear ‘tis me ye smell.”

  “Ye may reek, Gillis MacDougal, but a bath will clean ye. Campbell of Glenorchy stinks to his shriveled black soul.”

  Chapter Two

  Fiona inhaled deeply in spite of the stink, delighting in being free of the tight silk bands around her ribs. Was it fear, or fever that made her light-headed? Likely it was a combination. She no longer had a home, a clan, or kin, not that they’d cared much for her. Since Patrick’s tutor, Master Tybalt, had been replaced, few spoke with her unless it was to give orders or curses.

  Far above them fresh air and freedom waited. While under her father’s rule she was fed, clothed, and protected from the worst of the depravities inflicted on women. Freedom had its price. She would no longer be safe unless she found someone to protect her.

  She’d been caught, then dropped into the strong arms of this large, warm man. He’d jested about marriage. It had to be a jest. What man would accept an educated bastard female with nothing when he could find a placid bride with a dowry? She made a good squire but knew little about women’s tasks. She’d never even worn a gown!

  Gillis MacDougal said he would help her. She wanted to trust him. She had the foolish hope he might care about her wishes rather than just his own. He’d not treated her as an object to be used. Even when thinking her a boy he’d comforted instead of boxing her ears. Knowing she was a woman he had listened to her plan rather than taking what he wished from her. That said a lot about his character, and that of his kin.

  His big hands had muscle behind them, enough to swing a claymore well. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from leaning into his strength when they sat. He spoke kindly, another thing she was not used to. He’d said he’d help her escape though it meant he’d face their captor’s anger if left behind.

  She’d seen a man whipped to death once. She hadn’t been the only one to lose what little she had in her stomach. She could not leave him behind to face such a fate.

  The weak female part of her made her wish he’d wrap his arms around her and tell her he would take care of everything. The realis
t that had kept her alive said she could count on no one but herself. Gillis would help her because it would help him. As soon as he was free she’d be on her own again. Knowing he would abandon her, as had everyone else, did not stop her womanly thoughts.

  Gillis said he and his brothers could give a woman pleasure. Before she died she wished to share a kiss that inflamed and aroused. A kiss, and more, to make her feel wanted, even if only for a wee while. The thought of sharing her body with him made her heart pound. If they did not escape the Campbell’s wrath at least she would die having known pleasure.

  “I’ll nay touch ye, lass,” said Gillis quietly. “Ye are safe with me.”

  That he spoke of touching her, meant he wanted to. She’d been allowed to make very few decisions in her life. She was told how to act, dress, and when and where she could eat and sleep. The guards struck her when they didn’t like her efforts, or when they were angry. She spoke as they did though she could speak well if she tried.

  She no longer wished to pretend to be less than she was. Tonight, with this man, she could make a decision for herself. It was a big one, but it would be her choice. She swallowed hard, pushed her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and spoke.

  “What if I dinna wish to be safe?”

  He choked, then coughed. “Ye canna be sayin’ what I think ye be, lass.”

  “Ye are nay clawin’ at me, intending rape, as those who caught me would if they knew I was a maid.”

  “MacDougals dinna rape,” he said in a low growl. “Nor do they beat bairns or women.” He paused. She thought she heard a chuckle. “We would put a wife o’er our laps and apply the palm of our hands when ‘tis needed. Just so ye are clear on that.”

  She had a sudden vision of herself in that position. The place between her legs that men called a pussy, swelled in eagerness. So did her breasts. Her nipples scratched across her shirt as she breathed. She’d not known they were so sensitive as they were always bound unless she was sleeping in her chamber.

  “What I am clear on, Gillis MacDougal, is that I dinna wish to die a virgin, or have it ripped from me by Campbell brutes.”