Ciaran was sure there were a lot of women who would offer themselves to the laird and expect much less in return for their trouble. That put her in a very precarious position. She had to make sure he didn’t regret his decision.
“Excuse me,” Ciaran muttered, speaking to the man - Ross? - who was still staring at her with disapproving curiosity. She had to go and tell the children what had happened, and she had to work out what she was going to do about Duncan.
Avery and Ryan were both waiting anxiously for her to return. Both boys looked far too worried for their young years.
“What’s happened?” Avery asked. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ciaran said soothing. “Everything’s fine. Monsieur LaSoeur was concerned we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves if need be after-after losing your father,” she said quietly. “But Mister-Laird MacRae said he would look after us.”
Avery scowled. “We don’t need him to look after us! We can manage on our own!”
“We don’t know him,” Ryan added, more fearfully.
“I can look after us, Ma!” said Avery.
“Oh darling, I know you can,” Ciaran said softly. “But Monsieur LaSoeur is going to send us back if we don’t have a man in our group. I know how brave you boys are, but we need Laird MacRae’s help.”
“What if he doesn’t like us?” Ryan asked nervously.
“Who could possibly not like you?” Ciaran smiled, trying to reassure the boys, but she had wondered about all these things too. She had imagined what a vast improvement Duncan would be over Sean, but she didn’t really know for a fact.
Avery and Ryan didn’t look convinced either, but they let their mother usher them into the nest of blankets and rags where they slept. Their younger siblings were already fast asleep and dreaming. Ciaran considered lying down with them, but she knew she should go and see Duncan first. She slipped away when the boys were all snoring gently and went to seek out the Laird.
The camp was quiet, and it wasn’t hard for Ciaran to spot Duncan. He was standing a little ways removed from the wagons, keeping watch over them all. She was surprised when her heart did a funny little leap. She should not find what she was about to do exciting.
Duncan had spotted her long before she reached his side. Ciaran could feel the heavy weight of his eyes caressing her, and didn’t doubt for a second he would let her do what she had planned. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but then she reminded herself that, for all his seemingly good points, he was still just a man.
“I thought you might come,” he murmured.
Had he really? Ciaran raised her eyebrows. That was confidence boarding on arrogance that surpassed even Sean.
“I thought perhaps you were mad?” he added sheepishly, and Ciaran felt as though a rug had just been pulled from under her feet. “I guess I should have asked what you wanted first, but you didn’t seem to want to go back with the Munro’s?”
Ciaran shook her head slowly. “No, we didn’t,” she said with a smile, feeling suddenly better about things. Duncan really did seem to be a genuinely good man. She had heard they existed, and so she was going to do whatever she could to hang onto him.
How to go about it though?
Well, this was just about an exchange of need, wasn’t it? So there was no point waiting.
“Duncan?” she murmured softly. “Duncan, there’s something I want to do for you.”
“Oh?”
Duncan looked curious, but Ciaran didn’t believe he had quite grasped what that ‘something’ might be.
This might turn out to be more difficult than she had first thought.
Sean had never needed an invitation, and she had certainly never tried to seduce him. She didn’t know how to do that. She had seen such hunger in Duncan’s eyes though, and so she had just assumed he would grab her and she would have the opportunity to do what she had planned-not sleep with him, she wasn’t ready for that, but she had learnt a few tricks over the years, tricks to satisfy a man without having to let him take possession of her body.
“Ciaran? Are you all right?” Duncan’s rich brogue sent an unexpected shiver skating down her spine.
“Fine, I’m fine,” she whispered, forcing a smile, and then after the smile, she forced herself to take a step closer to Duncan.
She ran her eyes over his body, satisfying her own curiosity. He was so male, and that was frightening. She had to conquer her fears though. She couldn’t be nervous. She had to show Duncan she was willing to give him what he needed - and she would just have to cross her fingers and pray he was more appreciative than Sean.
“Ciaran?”
“Shh,” she whispered. If he spoke then she really would lose her nerve. She reached out a hand to touch him and laid it flat against his chest. He was all hardness and power beneath the thin barrier of his shirt, but Ciaran didn’t dare linger. Her fingers scooted down to the waistband of his trousers and his belt.
Duncan surely had to be getting the idea now? Ciaran couldn’t decide if she was disappointed he didn’t try to stop her from unfastening the buckle. He was a man. Of course he wasn’t going to stop her.
“Ciaran,” Duncan growled. “Come here?” he panted, reaching for her with his free hand - his other hand was still loosely holding his rifle.
“No,” she puffed, resisting his attempt to pull her against his body and claim her mouth. His kisses scared her. They were overwhelming.
Ciaran slipped her hands inside Duncan’s trousers and curled her fingers around his soft sex. Duncan groaned as he instantly started to thicken and harden beneath her fingertips, and went on thickening and hardening until he had completely surpassed what she was used to. Ciaran didn’t understand the thrill that gave her. It was going to hurt when she let him take her.
“Oh God,” Duncan grunted, when Ciaran dropped to her knees and pulled his trousers down to his knees, exposing his thick, throbbing cock to the cool night air.
Ciaran licked her lips to moisten them, and then leaned her head forward, nuzzling against Duncan’s thigh, accustoming herself to the surprisingly enticing scent of him - a musky, manly smell that was having the oddest effect on her body.
Ciaran was surprised when she felt Duncan’s hand on her shoulder, pushing her away. She looked up, confused by the mix of desperate need and bitter regret on his face. “You don’t have to do this, Ciaran.” Duncan seemed to be forcing the words through clenched teeth. “You should go and rest. You’re overwhelmed. You can’t want this. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Ciaran hesitated. Was Duncan rejecting her already? What did her wants have to do with anything? Had she done something wrong? Was this a game, or perhaps a test? She raked her nails across his thigh, earning a shudder that convinced her to continue.
“I know what I’m doing,” she assured him in a breathy whisper before leaning forward again.
He still looked torn, but didn’t resist her any further and Ciaran wasn’t the sort to tease. Sean had never taught her how to draw out the act-in fact-he would have grabbed her head by now and forced his cock down her throat. Ciaran was pleased to see Duncan had a little more control. His fingers were playing with her hair, clenching when she opened her mouth and drew him into the silky wet warmth.
Duncan swore softly, and his whole body jerked.
Ciaran concentrated on trying to relax. She didn’t think she was enjoying herself exactly, but she braced her hands on Duncan’s thighs and pleasured him with more enthusiasm than Sean had ever beaten from her.
“Ciaran!” Duncan groaned, giving her hair a tug. “Ciaran-stop, I’m going to -” he moaned, his thighs starting to tremble.
Ciaran didn’t stop. She didn’t understand why Duncan would even ask her to. She intensified her efforts, knowing he was close and actually wanting to see him break.
“Ciaran!” Duncan growled, panting hard, and forcing her to stop-forcing her head back. “No! Not like this. Together.”
Duncan
’s words sparked a panic in her chest. She hadn’t intended to let things go so far-but she didn’t dare resist. If Sean had taught her anything, it was that resistance was painful and futile. Besides, she was ashamed to admit it, but couldn’t deny a vague curiosity about what it would be like to lie with Duncan MacRae.
Distracted by her thoughts, Duncan finally managed to capture Ciaran’s lips. She started in surprise, but he held her still, rubbing the bow of his mouth against her own and lapping the seam with the tip of his tongue.
Ciaran didn’t have any words for the sensations he triggered with his touch. It reminded her a bit of her only glass of champagne, drunk at Christmas the year she had come to work for Sean: a bubbly warmth that began in the pit of her stomach and fizzed outward through her limbs, soothing her fears, and leaving her relaxed and pliant in his arms.
Duncan finally set the rifle aside, within reach, but a little apart from their bodies, and then tipped her over into the soft damp grass.
“Oh, lass…” he growled, the deep rumbling brogue humming against her skin as his kisses moved lower, running down the column of her neck and across her collarbone.
One of Duncan’s hands had slipped around her back, urging her hips against him, while the other lightly fondled her breasts. She was amazed by his restraint, and even more astonished by her body’s own reaction. It was almost…pleasurable? The feelings were so beyond her realm of experience she wasn’t sure, but, if not for the constant tension of wondering when it was going to end, she might have enjoyed it, if only because he wasn’t Sean.
Ciaran jolted when the Scotsman’s hand dipped low, and he started inching up her skirts. She had been lulled into a temporary sense of security, forgetting, for a moment, what was about to come. The brush of Duncan’s rough fingers against her thigh brought it crashing back.
He was achingly slow, hitching up her skirts and petticoats one at a time, handling her as he would a skittish horse, but it did little to assuage her nerves. She had never fully appreciated how large he was - even taller and broader than Sean, and so strong. One of her hands curled around his bicep, unable to cover more than half. It reminded her again of the strength and power he had at his disposal, strength that would, very shortly, be directed at her.
Duncan finally reached her last layer of covering and parted her legs, pausing a moment to grind himself against her naked skin. He was very ready. Ciaran set her jaw and braced her body for invasion, closing her eyes, then opening them again in shock when, instead of claiming her immediately, his fingertips brushed gently against her sex.
He made a faintly disapproving sound that caused her to worry. She wondered again if something was wrong, but that was the last clear thought that filtered through her mind as Duncan’s calloused fingertips began to work magic on her flesh and Ciaran forgot about everything she thought she knew about what happened between women and men.
He made her feel things that were so far outside the realm of her experiences they were almost frightening.
Ciaran’s hips bucked all of their own accord as Duncan stroked and caressed, awakening her intimate, sleeping flesh with his amazing hands. Her eyes were wide with incredulous surprise, and her swollen lips were parted, as she panted for breath. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this!
“Is that better, lass?” Duncan murmured huskily, his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, and Ciaran actually heard herself moan, moan with pleasure, when one of his thick, work-roughened fingers slipped inside her.
Relax, she had to relax, it wouldn’t feel so bad if she didn’t tense up.
The hard lessons she had learned over the years swam inside her dizzy head, but Duncan seemed utterly determined to make it impossible for her to follow her own advice. Ciaran couldn’t relax her muscles! Duncan drew from her body a wicked slickness that made everything he did feel brand new.
“Duncan?” she mewed, afraid of the newness.
“I know, lass,” he groaned.
He didn’t know! He was acting like this was all completely normal! Confused thoughts flashed through Ciaran’s mind - confused because she felt so inexplicably achy without his fingers. Why was she forgetting the pain, the humiliation, the detachment she had felt from her body whenever Sean had used it for his own disgusting pleasure?
Because it didn’t feel that way with Duncan… it felt almost… good.
“Promise me you want this too?” Duncan groaned, staring down into Ciaran’s.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to say she wanted it, but she did manage to nod her head. It wasn’t as if he would really have stopped anyway, was it?
“Thank God,” Duncan groaned and then he made their bodies one.
“Oh!” Ciaran cried out sharply-couldn’t help from crying out-as Duncan claimed her. He froze, and stared down at her with a look of tortured horror on his face.
“It hurts?” he groaned, shaking with the effort of keeping his body still.
“No!” Ciaran gasped, because not only didn’t it hurt - it felt incredible.
Duncan wasn’t gentle and he wasn’t slow, but Ciaran didn’t mind. The hot sizzle deep inside her body continued to grow until her muscles seized in a moment of devastating pleasure that Duncan echoed a moment later. The Scotsman stilled at last and slumped forward, nearly crushing her tiny body, making it hard to breathe. She didn’t dare complain, but Duncan must have realized this, because he rolled onto his side and clasped her tightly to his chest.
This was new too.
Sean had always pushed her away after he’d had his rut. Ciaran couldn’t help but remember how it had always been with her husband, how used and soiled she had felt, usually bruised and battered. He had never held her in his arms, never raked his fingers through her hair the way Duncan was doing. She was sore and achy now - both from Duncan’s size, and from the rocks and twigs that had been beneath her on the ground, - but she wasn’t disgusted by the reminder of what they had done.
It wouldn’t always be like this, Ciaran realized. Even Sean had been kind to her-after a fashion-at the start. He had never made her feel the things Duncan had, but he hadn’t started out cruel. Things changed.
Rather than dwell on the inevitable disappointment, she decided to think about what had just happened. Why had it been so different? Could Sean have made her feel that way if he’d tried? She was struck by another thought-perhaps it wasn’t the man who had made the difference. Perhaps it was her? Perhaps it was so wonderful because she’d done something wrong?
Ciaran gasped in horror as she turned this thought over inside her head. She had heard enough gossip about wanton women to know how unseemly it was for a woman to find pleasure in bed. She had always assumed it was a sickness. Frankly, she had never understood until tonight how a woman could possibly enjoy what she did with a man. Now that she did, she was afraid of what Duncan must think. He wouldn’t want her again. He would send her away.
Duncan must have felt the tension in her little body, because he looked at her with concern.
“What is it, lassie?’ he whispered, peppering a kiss on her forehead.
Ciaran’s eyes pricked with tears. “I didn’t-!” she began haltingly; “I shouldn’t-! I know-!” she began several times, but never quite managed to spit out what she wanted to say.
“Ciaran?” Duncan croaked, as panic flared in his heart. Why was she crying? “Did I-did I hurt you, lass?” he asked, feeling sickened at the mere thought. She hadn’t initially been as ready as he would have expected, but he had seen to that-he was sure he had! She was the one who had come to him after all! And he had given her pleasure, hadn’t he? She hadn’t been faking it, had she?
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” Ciaran sobbed, and inexplicably sounded more upset than ever.
“Well then… what’s the matter, love?” he asked gently, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Duncan wondered if his question was stupid. Sean had only died that morning. It had been difficult for him to keep Aileen completely out
of his mind the whole time, and he had been dealing with his loss for a year now. It had been inexcusable of him to take advantage of Ciaran’s grief. Sean might have been a complete bastard, but he was the father of Ciaran’s children. She had to have some feelings for him.
“I’m sorry,” Duncan apologized, hanging his head in shame as he eased himself away from Ciaran so he could pull up his trousers.
“You are?” Ciaran asked miserably.
Duncan sighed. He was completely confused. Everything he said seemed to make things worse. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He brushed away her tears with his thumb. “Tell me, why are you crying, Ciaran? What can I do to make it better?” he asked, gently helping her to her feet.
“I’m not-I don’t want you to think-”
“You don’t want me to think what, lass?”
“That I’m a-a whore or a harlot!” she wept, covering her face with her hands. Duncan was stunned. He had never-he would never think that of her. It hadn’t for a second crossed his mind. “I just-I just wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for me and my family!” she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.
Duncan felt as though someone had just tipped a whole bucket of ice down his back. She had slept with him to thank him? She had slept with him because, basically, she thought she had to? He thought he might be sick. He almost felt like he’d raped her. He had thought she wanted him the same way he wanted her!
“You-” Duncan started to speak, but he had to stop straight away. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You thought you had to sleep with me in order to make sure I’d look after you and the bairns?” he demanded, reaching down and picking up his rifle. His movements were slow, precise, as if that could somehow keep all the pain inside.
“I didn’t-I don’t-” Ciaran stammered, wringing her hands and looking more nervous than ever.
“Ciaran, I don’t force myself on unwilling women,” he said, in a cool, wounded tone of voice. “I told LaSoeur that I would look after you and your family. I didn’t expect any kind of payment in return for doing that…I thought-” he stopped. It didn’t matter what he had thought, he was wrong. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again, Ciaran.”
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