Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02]

by Highlander Taken

  “Why?�� I asked defiantly. Fee’s presence gave me courage; he would hardly, after all, force himself upon me with Fee standing right beside us. Or would he?

  “This healer will examine you,” Aleck said. “I have doubts now as to the validity of your marriage.”

  My defiance was punctured by a spear of anxiety. “The evidence was given to my father after our wedding night,” I said.

  “I saw that evidence, aye. And if it was, in fact, your virginal blood, then you have nothing to worry about. I suspect it was not, and so I mean to find out for certain whether your maidenhood is still unbroken. Healer,” he ordered, “do it now.”

  Fee was one of the older healers, perhaps nearly sixty. She was equally well-known for her expertise and her appalling bedside manner. Perhaps overly jaded by many decades of witnessing illness and often death, she had little time for compassion beyond the pragmatic. Aleck had chosen well. He knew, as I did, that Fee would have no compunction about telling the truth of the matter. She placed her cool, bony hands on me and urged me to lie back onto the bed.

  I shook off her hands. “There’s no reason to doubt that the marriage has been properly consummated,” I insisted, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. “My father was satisfied, and so should you be.”

  “Yet I am not satisfied,” Aleck said. “You as much as admitted it, earlier, in the hall. And it makes perfect sense. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at your husband in the past. With revulsion, at times, and most of all with fear. I’m sure this has not escaped his notice. And if the Mackenzies are half as honorable—supposedly—as their reputation seems to suggest, I’m guessing that he hasn’t forced himself upon you. Which would mean that the marriage is not, in fact, legally bound.”

  “’Tis a ridiculous accusation,” I protested. “You’re wrong.”

  He took no notice of my protest. “Which would also mean that if someone else was to wed you, then properly consummate the marriage, then it would be the second marriage that would be, in fact, the valid of the two. The first marriage would be instantly annulled.”

  “Well, the first marriage has been consummated,” I lied, desperate. “Yours is a false assumption. You misinterpreted my words entirely, today in the hall. I was not implying that—”

  “Do it now,” Aleck growled at the healer, undeterred. I was pulled onto the bed by his meaty hands, and my shoulders were held under his firm grasp. “If I don’t believe your verdict, I’ll examine her myself.”

  Fee did as she was told. A shiver ran up my spine as her cold, knobby fingers raised the hem of my gown to find the soft skin of my thigh. I closed my legs, but her grip was surprisingly strong and she quickly clasped my ankles into iron rings that had already been attached to the examining table to hold me in place. “Lie still, dear,” she said, the pleasantry sounding unnatural in this closed, distressing space.

  I struggled again, but I was too tightly held. I cried out, but the old woman’s fingers found their goal, sliding into me and prodding gently, searchingly. I closed my eyes against the nimble, snaking assault.

  The examination was brief and the violating touch was removed. “Aye, she is still intact,” said the old healer, unshackling my ankles.

  Aleck smiled, sinister intent sparking in his black eyes. But then, as he took a single step forward, his eyes rolled back in his head and his heavy body fell to the floor with a painful-sounding thud. Shocked, I looked at Fee, who smiled knowingly. “I laced his drink, lassie,” she said, indicating an empty goblet that sat next to a bottle of whiskey, perched on a nearby shelf. A large blue glass vial set next to it. “Now I suggest you go attend to the matter at hand at once.”

  Wasting no time, I offered my deepest thanks to the healer Fee, whose parting words as she ushered me out the door were these: “The thug will sleep for a short time, I cannot say exactly. An hour. Maybe two. Did you happen to know, by the by, that my name at birth was Fiona Mackenzie? I married into this clan at the tender age of seventeen, but once a Mackenzie always a Mackenzie. Now go, and hurry to it. Tie the man up if you have to but for God’s sake, lass, get the job done.”

  Somewhat taken aback by her confession, and by the urgency in her voice, I rushed back to my chambers. I noticed unusual noises coming from the grand hall, and from outside. Clanging, shouting, the voices of men. But I had no time to stop and investigate. I made it back to our bedchambers without seeing anyone. I closed the door quietly behind me, taking a moment to catch my breath from my run.

  My husband was deeply asleep in the large leather chair by the fire, one of his leather-bound books open across his chest. He wore his kilt, the sash loosely draped across his chest, with no shirt underneath. His daily training garb was his leather trews and sparring tunic. Generally, men wore their kilts for more formal occasions, and into battle. Kade would wear his, I noticed, in our private chambers, when he was writing his notes and the letters to his family. I’d suspected that he found it comforting, as though having his clan colors wrapped around him gave him the kind of comfort he often lacked in this new and largely inhospitable environment.

  He was a quiet sleeper. His beauty to me was no longer confined to the times when he slept and when he laughed. But now, as I watched the rise and fall of his chest, the severe lines of his face softened by the blue light of night, I was overcome by a longing that was immediate and dynamic, a flood of determination. There was a job that needed doing, aye, and I found that I wanted to do it, and badly. My heart still beat rapidly from my escape, and the blood of my body warmed me lushly, pooling, it seemed, in selective areas where the pulse lingered and played.

  I knew it would take very little provocation for my husband to kill Aleck, and I guessed that if he learned of what had taken place below in the healing quarters, he would have no qualms about acting upon his hatred, possibly immediately. But I had no need to tell him. The thug will sleep for a short time, I cannot say exactly. An hour. Maybe two. I didn’t have a moment to lose.

  Yet my husband might protest. He would protest. He was adamant that we would see out his month-long waiting period, to secure an invisible bond of trust he seemed utterly determined to uphold. And I understood his motivations. He didn’t want to push me into doing something I didn’t wholly consent to. I knew him well enough by now to know that forcing himself on a woman was an act my husband, despite his reputation for reckless violence, would never, ever resort to. Even Aleck had noticed my fear. Fear that had transformed, over past weeks, to a smoldering lust. And, while I was no longer afraid of my husband, I could admit that I had occasional flashes of fear at what he might do to me. At his basest, he was dangerous and unpredictable. But now it was the thought of that lust-darkened glance that spurred me. I could feel my own excitement as though it was painted onto my skin, coloring my intimate places. Remembering his touch, his tongue, his lash.

  The lengths of silky cloth still sat on the bedside table. I knew I would have to be careful and quick. Kade was a sound sleeper, but he was also a soldier, whose instincts were attuned to any and every threat. I secured the first tie quickly, binding his right wrist to the leg of the chair. His head turned, and he sighed in his sleep. I fumbled with the second tie, securing his arm to a wooden beam that ran from the floor to the ceiling, next to his chair. And as his eyes opened, I pulled tight the knot at the same moment he strained violently against it. He cursed and thrashed against the bindings, so much so that his book fell to the floor.

  I stood in front of his chair.

  He stared at me warily, his chest heaving from his sudden exertions. “Stella?” he growled softly, his confusion inked to his gruff delivery.

  My eyes drank in the hard curves of his sculpted shoulders, the bronzed hue ingrained with the light, puckered imperfections of his many scars.

  “Aye, husband. ’Tis me.”

  He pulled against his restraints again and contemplated me once more, as though bewildered by the scenario. “What—? What are you about? Untie me. Now.”
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br />   “I will untie you,” I responded with coy obedience. “Soon.”

  “What do you mean ‘soon’? Release me, I said.”

  “I mean to attend to a matter that needs attention.”

  “What matter? Untie my wrists, Stella.” His voice was forceful and his anger was easy to detect, but I had to admit a part of me was enjoying this. I’d never before wielded any kind of power over my rough, brawny husband. He was always unfailingly in control. Until now. “Untie me, Stella. Or I’ll make you regret this. I swear it. You won’t want to get near me.”

  But I did want to get near him. Very near. Nearer than he’d ever allowed.

  My gaze met his as I slowly unbuttoned the top of my gown, making a real effort not to lose my nerve. The thought of what would happen if I failed in my goal emboldened me. I eased the neckline open to frame my breasts. My husband regarded me with a look of incredulity, yet it went deeper than that. His eyes wandered over my skin, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze as a warm, intuitive surge.

  “God Almighty, lass,” he whispered, his voice softened by a degree. “You burn my eyes with your loveliness. I may go up in flames any minute.” But then, as though remembering himself as I moved to approach him, his tone turned aggressive again, quietly hoarse: “Keep your distance.”

  Distance, however, would not get results.

  I placed my hands on his parted knees, pushing them wide so I could kneel between them. Tentatively yet purposefully, I touched my fingers to his thighs, letting them glide against his hair-dusted skin.

  He flinched and spread his legs wider, as though to evade my touch. But his movement only succeeded in raising the wool of his kilt a fraction higher, making my task all the easier.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said.

  He speared me with a look that sent a jolt a fear through me. But the strain of his muscles and the tension in his body were not about anger, nor the rise of his kilt where it covered him. “I am going to touch you, husband. I’m going to take you as you take me.”

  “Nay. We will wait until I have made good on my word to you.”

  “I’m tired of waiting. I don’t want to wait any longer. I never asked for that oath.”

  “Stella,” he warned. “I said a month, and I meant a month, for good reason. You needed that time. I want you to—”

  “I do trust you,” I said, leaning closer, letting my hands glide farther up his thighs, pushing his kilt higher. “And I want you.”

  He groaned, an unmistakable note of agony in the sound. “Nay, lass. Not yet. I’ll not agree to it!” He writhed, and I pulled away as he strained violently against the bindings at his wrists. But the ties held, and after a moment he calmed, although his breathing was heavy and his eyes were enraged. “Untie me.” The words were brittle with authority, but I knew what obeying him would cost me, and us both. But as hurried as I was, I wanted him to agree. I wanted to break down his barriers. I wanted him to forget his vow, for him to beg me instead of resist me.

  I let my fingers ease around his manhood, which was already as large and as engorged as I had ever seen it. “I think you will agree to it, husband. I just need to convince you. Let me try this—”

  “Damn it all to hell, lass! I said nay! I’ll not cooperate—”

  He exhaled sharply as I squeezed him and cupped him, letting my fingers work nimbly across his rock-hard length, which gave every indication that he was, in fact, ready to cooperate quite fully.

  “Stella,” he growled again, yet this growl was laced with the very beginnings of surrender.

  Fascinated by the size of him, the hot silken feel of his skin, I played him with my fingers, exploring the heavy weight, the satiny hardness.

  “Can I kiss you, husband?” I asked him, more for effect than for actual permission. I intended to do it anyway.

  “Absolutely not.” His reply sounded deep and strangled.

  “Just one. One kiss.” I leaned to him.

  His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as I kissed the broad tip of his immense shaft, licking a small bead of moisture. “Nay,” he snarled. “I can’t—”

  “Hush, fierce warrior husband,” I crooned against his skin, aware of the effect the movement of my mouth was having on his limited composure. “Cease your complaints. I haven’t complained nearly so much, and I’m much less experienced.”

  “Untie me at once,” he rasped, sounding less forceful than he had only moments ago.

  I took him into my mouth, tasting him with my tongue.

  “Christ.” He sighed, his head falling back. His body became very still. It was fascinating to me that this big, lethal soldier could be tamed this way. I wanted to use that power, to feed it and explore where it might lead me, and us.

  I kissed him and licked him playfully, taking him farther into my mouth. He was too big to take fully, so I used my fingers to stroke the base of his shaft as I continued to suck him more deeply and tease him with my tongue. His breathing was rough and staggered as he again pulled against his ties. He lifted his head in one last attempt as my fingers explored further. “Stella. You’re too—ah, God. All right. I’ll give you what you want, I will. Come to me. Release me.”

  I paused, not sure if I should trust him. But then, that’s what this—all this, the wait and the desire not to wait—was about. Trust.

  I eased him from my mouth, but I continued to hold him, to slide my fingers, to squeeze gently and to wander the beguiling textures of him. “Promise,” I commanded him.

  “What?”

  “Promise me you’ll not change your mind.”

  “Aye, aye,” he said quickly, sensing his impending escape. “I promise.”

  I raised the hem of my gown and crawled up his body, straddling his hips, very aware that his huge, rigid manhood was resting insistently against the bare skin of my thigh. My gown fell to cover us, and the secrecy somehow heightened the thrill of sensation. I looked into his eyes, wriggling slightly, using my body to caress him.

  “Holy mother of God, lass,” he said, chuckling in an aggrieved moan. “My revenge will be sweet. You will be begging for mercy. Now untie me. I’ll go easy on you if you release me immediately.”

  My squirming motion caused the head of his shaft to slide between my thighs, where I was slippery with warmth. He swore again, more loudly. He seemed already on the verge of his release, or of some internal shift or collapse; he was struggling against it, holding back, gritting his teeth with it.

  I paused in my movement, searching his eyes. “No more holding out on me. I want you. No more waiting. I didn’t ask for you to wait a month. I’m ready now. This is the vow I want you to honor. This is the one I will trust. That you’ll take me fully, right now.” I was almost moved to tears from the flood of my emotion. The residual terror of Aleck’s threat. The relief that I was with Kade here and now. The monumental, welcome shift that was about to take place.

  “All right,” he said, reading the weight of my emotion even if he couldn’t know the reasons for it. “If that’s what you truly want, then that’s what you’ll get, lass. I don’t have it in me to deny you any longer.”

  I reached under my gown to hold him with my hand, touching the tip of him to glide wetly against me, pressing him gently so his shaft prodded at my snug entrance. There was a taut, stretching burn as I increased the pressure. I had lost my mind, it seemed, with abandon, with the necessity of securing my bond to him. I could take him like this, bound and protesting. Or I could trust him to take me willingly, as I wanted him to. I wanted his arms around me as he took me, finally, as his wife, wholly and completely.

  I leaned to kiss his mouth softly, letting my tongue glide across his lips, licking lightly into his mouth. My movement caused his hot, rigid manhood to slide a fraction deeper within the tight constriction of my body. I waited for his protests, but none came. Instead, he rasped, “Christ Almighty. I promise you anything, everything. I’ll not last this way. Let me pleasure you. In every way I know how. Let me
take control. Just this once, for your first time.”

  I thought about this. He sounded sincere, although I doubted this would be the only night he would demand full control; that detail, however, bothered me not at all. He could have his control if I could get what I wanted. “As long as you give me your word,” I said. “No more waiting.”

  “Aye, I swear it.”

  I was satisfied by this. He’d told me often enough that the Mackenzies’ word was their law. I crawled farther up his body, reaching for the bindings, hesitating. In this position, my breasts were just above his mouth. Not long ago, I would have been far too shy to do such a thing, but now I had a quest. I had to use every weapon in my own arsenal to achieve it. And his eyes were feral, inviting me. I offered a full breast to him, which he accepted hungrily, drawing my nipple into the plush heat, teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue and the soft abrasion of his teeth. Straddling him, with his mouth drawing mad pleasure from my fevered flesh, I began to lose myself. My body seemed to be melting from the inside out.

  So it took me a brief moment to realize that our peace had been shattered.

  A loud crash drew my attention to the now-open door. In my haste, I had forgotten to lock it. And there stood not only Aleck, fully awake, but also six other men in full war regalia with swords raised, and many more lined up with them, led by—

  Campbell.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WELL, WELL,” CAMPBELL said, lowering his sword, a smirk of amused triumph rippling across his expression. He was a staunch-looking man with long black hair and a black beard, appearing every bit as dangerous as his reputation suggested. He wore almost as much weaponry as my husband usually armed himself with—weapons that were, at present, well out of reach. “Isn’t this well timed?”