"What do you want me to do, beauty?"
"Fast...faster...take me." Her words were barely audible past her gasps. "Now."
"As you wish." He drove forward, not stopping until they were fully joined. Her breath of relief was followed by a loud inhalation when he pulled out and moved back in. On and on, he thrust, taking her to sensations beyond belief. Meredith no longer cared if she screamed or not, wasn't sure what happened other than knowing if he ever stopped she would die.
"I am lost in you beauty." Murrough pulled her arms over her head and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Lift your hips, wrap your legs about me."
She quickly obeyed and was rewarded with him deeper yet. The sounds of their flesh meeting again and again was joined by both of them crying out as she, once again, tumbled into oblivion and he collapsed over her, his body quaking.
Moments later, they lay together limbs entwined. Meredith dared not speak. The night should never end. If only he could belong to her always. In her mind, she went over different ways to ask him to allow her to run away to his home. To stand up to her brother and to the laird. But every time she opened her mouth she could not say the words out loud. It was he who should be asking her to go away with him.
"Roll away, I want to take you from behind." Murrough brought her hand down to encircle his hardened shaft. "I am wanting you again."
Meredith's heartbeat accelerated. It was to be their one and only night. After the laird arrived, her future was uncertain. Her mind was made up, tonight she would enjoy the wonders Murrough taught her. She rolled to her stomach and he moved behind her.
"Lift your hips. That's it." Murrough's tongue flicked at her entrance, while his fingers caressed her nub until she pushed back with her arms. "Impatient, are you?"
He rubbed the head of his cock from her rear to her entrance. He drove in, his large hands holding her hips steady. "Fast or slow?"
"I don't know." Meredith rocked on her knees. "You fill me so completely."
The movements started off slow but within moments his body pounded into hers. The world shifted and Meredith pushed her face into the linens and cried out. Murrough continued the wonderful assault, not at his peak yet. Loud grunts from deep in his throat collided with her muffled mews.
"Come with me." He played with her sex and strummed between her legs until she shattered, milking him to release.
Murrough's deep cry made her fall apart and darkness fell.
"Milady?" Lily's face hovered over hers. "Are you unwell? ‘Tis past time to rise."
Meredith jerked awake, her wide eyes taking in the bed. She was alone. No sight of a night visitor. "Oh, goodness. I must not be late for breaking my fast. Have the others already descended?"
"Aye." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "I caught a peek at the laird. He is here. I couldn't get a good look as he walked past just as I came to find ye."
"Is he here then?" Her heart tumbled. "Lily, did you see the dark-haired man from in town?"
Lily gave her a curious look. "Aye, he is here."
Meredith's breath stopped and, for a moment, she wondered if what she imagined could be. "How was he dressed?"
"Who, milady?"
"The man from town."
"When I saw him first, he looked to have just awoken. With hair all over, he hurried down the hall to a room on the end." Lily tsked. "He was not wearing much of anything. His tartan pulled about his waist.” The maid helped pull her simple frock on over her head. "Of course, that was earlier when I came to look in on ye."
Unsure of what to expect and if she could keep herself from giving away her feelings if she came face to face with Murrough and the laird in the same room, Meredith trudged behind Lily down the stairs to the great room.
At her first scan of the room, she didn't spot Murrough. Upon the high board sat Ian McRainey and Elsbeth, both in deep conversation. Next to Ian, a large dark-haired man sat, turned from her. The laird. She looked to where the guards were seated and Murrough was not there either.
"Please join us," Ian McRainey called to her and one of the guards stood and escorted her to the high board. She came to stand before the laird and curtsied. "Laird Gordon, I am Meredith Stuart of Torraibh."
At the deep voice, she almost toppled over. "I believe we have met."
She looked up to Murrough's solemn eyes, feeling her own widen. The guard took her arm and walked her to sit at Murrough’s left side. If not for every set of eyes on her, she would have raced from the room.
How was it possible? Murrough was Declan Gordon?
Astonishment gave way to rage.
Chapter Nine
The paleness of Meredith's complexion made Declan wonder if she would faint.
He motioned for a maid to bring her a tray of cheeses and breads to choose from and poured mead into a cup for her. He spoke in a low tone. "Are you angry with me?"
"I am not." She waved the tray away. "What I am has no words." Her darkened green eyes met his. "Your name is not Murrough, I take it."
"My full name is Murrough Declan McRainey Gordon."
"You omitted what you are called." She gritted out, not touching her mead either. "I wish to go home as soon as possible."
"Your brother agreed to you remaining a few days." Declan wasn't sure what to do. Now upon seeing how hard she tried to control her anger, he realized that, perhaps, he'd pushed her too far. It was obvious she did not know who he was. Meredith had not been out to trap him. "We should talk."
"I do not wish to speak with you, Laird. What I wish is to never set eyes upon you again." Her beautiful face became flushed and she stood. "If you will excuse me, I find I am not feeling well." She nodded at Ian and Elsbeth.
Declan stood. "Allow me to escort you for fresh air."
"I prefer to go alone," she hissed, but he ignored her and took her arm, which she yanked out of his grasp.
"Allow me." Ian stood and rounded him, giving him a knowing look. "Perhaps you should remain and get to know Elsbeth."
He sat and watched helplessly as his best friend walked out with Meredith. He'd made a huge mistake. It was obvious up until that moment Meredith had no idea who he was.
"Something has happened between the two of you?" Elsbeth leaned forward, an eyebrow raised.
"Yes, Ian and I have been friends for a long time, but he still annoys me to no end." Declan attempted to distract her.
"Not Ian. I spoke of Lady Stuart."
"I believe the lady dislikes me."
"What I saw on her face was not dislike. What I saw was a deep hurt." Elsbeth picked up a piece of cheese and plopped it into her mouth. "Whatever you did, it will be a long time before she will be willing to speak to you."
The blonde lass seemed to enjoy his discomfort. A playful, impish smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she awaited his reply. A perfect woman for Ian. He was sure they were attracted to each other. Of course, it would not come to pass unless her father agreed, which would be hard since Ian was not titled.
"I lied to her," he admitted. "About who I was. She thought me a simple farmer. You would think she'd be glad to finally realize who I am."
Her eyes narrowed. "To realize you are a liar laird? Why would that make her glad?"
The impact of her words made him flinch. "You are correct. Excuse me, Lady McNeil. I see Ian heads back." He stood, not sure where to go. At the moment, it was probably best to give Meredith some time.
"How is she?" Declan met Ian halfway from the entryway. "Will she remain?"
"I don't believe she will. She’s asked for a messenger to send for guardsmen to escort her back. Refused our own.” Ian scratched at his jaw. "She was close to tears, but held them back. She's a brave lass."
"I've made a mess of things. The McNeil lass just called me a liar. I imagine she'll be leaving next."
Declan let out a deep breath. "What should I do? I am too foolish to be laird, have shirked my responsibilities. Lied to the one woman I want more than any and now look bad in the eyes of the Mc
Neil's daughter, who will, no doubt, report back to her father."
His friend's eyes were warm when meeting his. "There have been too many changes so soon after becoming laird. I will speak to Elsbeth and ensure she keeps her opinion of you to herself. You have months to regain control as laird. As far as Lady Meredith, I suggest you give her time before attempting to speak to her."
"You said her brother is eager to marry her off. What if he moves forward with it?"
"Perhaps you can meet with the brother and tell him to give Meredith time. Explain your intentions. If you have them." Ian waited for his reply.
"I have intentions."
"Of marriage?"
"Of what else would they be?" he snapped.
"With you, I'm not always so sure." Ian chuckled and went to seek out Elsbeth.
The following weeks passed quickly. Declan gained new insight into what his father and brother now did. A laird was, above all, responsible for doing right by the people and was looked upon to be so. He learned to listen to those who brought grievances before him and considered both sides before making a decision. He took long walks to clear his head and ponder over the best ways to ensure the people of the surrounding lands were taken care of and would be fed and housed for the upcoming winter season.
One afternoon, the cold wind brushed his face as he stood atop the keep and looked down to the loch. It had been two months since he'd seen Meredith. Thankfully, her brother had given his word not to seek a husband for her as yet. He'd convinced Aiden Stuart that he'd like to court Meredith two months hence after ensuring all was well with his land and people. Now that time was up. He was nervous at how she'd receive him.
True, she had little say in marrying him, but he was not one to force a woman into marriage. If he'd learned anything, he knew an unhappy union brought many days of annoyance and bitterness on both ends.
His brother's marriage was what he wanted. The two were deeply in love and brightened at the sight of the other.
Hopefully he'd not made such a mess of things with Meredith that a chance at love was beyond repair.
A young man made his way toward him, a missive in hand. He was breathing hard from a hurried trip it seemed. "Laird Gordon, I bring a message from the Stuart."
He unrolled the parchment and read over the hurried writing. Meredith was gone.
Declan took off at a run toward the stables. "Dugan! Ian!"
Chapter Ten
As the jostling of the wagon combined with anxiety, her stomach threatened to upheave. Meredith attempted to swallow past the gag in her mouth and was immediately sorry when her throat seized up and she began coughing until her eyes watered.
Her mind in a million directions, she prayed that Lily was all right. The poor maid had fought valiantly, trying until the very end to keep ahold of her. One of her abductors had pushed the hapless maid off the edge of the wagon when Lily refused to let go of Meredith’s foot. Lily screamed and then lay motionless in the middle of the road as they rode away.
From what glimpses she caught of the men who spoke in gruff tones, they looked like Norse. People of the north distinct by their light coloring, blond hair and light-colored eyes were well known to be ruffians and murderers. They spoke in a tongue she’d never heard. It sounded like short sentences and harsh tones.
Why had they targeted her? She’d never met anyone from their land, nor did she think Aiden did. It was rumored that these savages pillage seaside townships, killing men and raping any woman in sight. She almost wished they’d done so, and left her behind, not taken her to do who knew what with. Now they rode into the distance and surely Aiden would have no idea where to find her.
The wagon swayed and she fell to the side. The horseman behind rode forward past the side of the wagon and she scooted closer to the edge. The first chance possible, she’d jump and attempt to get away. The odds were against her, but she had to try. Even with her small dirk in her boot, there was little chance she could fight off six men. Meredith squared her shoulders and focused on the horizon. They'd not kill her easily; she’d struggle against her captors every step of the way.
Just as she neared the edge, they came to a stop. The sun was setting in the distance and she caught sight of a small stream.
One of the men dragged her from the wagon and led her to a small clearing. He motioned to the ground and grunted a command. "Go."
Did he really expect her to relieve herself in front of him? Meredith shook her head. Even if she wanted to, it would be impossible with her hands bound as they were. He seemed to realize this and untied her hands, then once again repeated the signals.
She looked past him to where the other men were. They were talking in low tones, not paying them any mind. The man before her seemed to grow irritated and proceeded to squat and demonstrate what he meant for her to do. Finally he turned his back, but looked over his shoulder in warning.
Humiliated, Meredith did what she had to do and pulled her dirk from her boot. When she straightened he moved toward her and she struck upward with her blade. The man was too fast for her. He grabbed her arm and twisted it until pain radiated to her shoulder. Meredith had no choice but to drop her weapon.
In anger, she kicked him in the leg. He swore and shoved her back to the wagon. The others laughed when she took off running. As expected, he quickly caught up with her, grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the ground. Straddling her, he bound her hands again and pulled her to stand.
When he shoved her to sit on a tree stump, the other men began talking in rapid tones, jovial and laughing, while her captor scowled in response. It seemed he was his charge as none of the others dared to come near her, barely glanced at her.
Meredith studied the man who now held a wineskin up and motioned for her to be quiet. He was large, they all were, but he was different than the others. Bearded, with a scar that ran across his cheek, he still managed to be handsome. His piercing, blue eyes met hers and she recoiled.
There was hatred in his gaze, pure rage. The corner of the devil’s lips curved, the smile one of knowing. She’d seen exactly how he felt.
He removed her gag and she let out a scream. Hopefully, someone was nearby and overheard her. Gruff hands covered her mouth and he said something that sounded like a curse. Once again, he lifted the wineskin with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. She nodded and he removed his hand. Meredith screamed again and this time he gagged her. The men began talking in rapid spurts and rushed around the area to ensure no one came.
She struggled when he threw her over his shoulder. Her mouth was dry and, truthfully, she was so very thirsty. But survival was more important than a drink of whatever they offered. He stalked to the wagon and none-so-gently plopped her down.
Moments later, a different man came to her. She followed his every move, not looking away when he narrowed his eyes. Unlike the other man, this one terrified her. He placed the wineskin on the wagon, then shoved her to her back. Meredith was unable to struggle when he straddled her. She prayed he didn’t kill her for screaming.
The man placed a knife at her throat and removed the gag, then shoved the wineskin into her mouth. The liquid was delicious, cool, and wet and she drank greedily until he removed it quickly replacing the cloth back into her mouth.
He turned to signal the others and she saw two horsemen ride away, one of them the blue-eyed devil. What happened now?
Alone in the back of the wagon while the four remaining men seemed to gather their horses, despair filled her. Would she ever see her home again? Aiden? Did he attempt to find her? If so, would he even know where to look?
What of Declan? Had he been notified? Did he even care?
For weeks, he’d attempted to see her and she’d rebuffed him, sending away messengers and returning any gifts he’d sent. In truth, she’d began to soften and planned to accept the next request.
Declan had chosen to give her time although he didn’t have to wait, did not have to ask for her forgiveness. After
all, he and Aiden had already come to an agreement, she was to marry Declan Gordon whether she accepted or not.
In a missive he’d ordered read out loud so she’d been forced to listen to the words, the messenger stated that Declan had not disclosed his identity because he wanted to be sure she cared for him as a person and not for who he was; a laird.
The truth was, she not only cared for him, but through his actions he’d earned her love. She’d spent so many sleepless nights reliving their night together. His touches upon her body, the way they’d joined together as one, the heights to which he’d taken her. And now it was over. She’d never see him again and reveal that she more than cared, but was in love him.
Taking one last chance to escape, Meredith pushed from the back of the wagon and fell to the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to a stop with a thud. She struggled to her feet and raced away. It was hard to run with her hands bound and with her mouth gagged, it was hard to breathe, but she pressed on. A few yards forth, she saw a farm in the distance and ran toward it.
Shouts sounded. They’d realized she’d gone. Meredith spun to the left and scurried to hide behind rocks. Hopefully, they’d not see her and go in a different direction. She waited, barely able to hear beyond the hard beats of her heart and harsh breathing. After a few moments, she peered and didn’t see anyone, so she lifted to her feet and took off at a run again.
Meredith prayed for God’s intervention, that he make her invisible to them. Tackled from behind, she slammed forward onto the ground and lost her ability to breathe. The Norseman turned her over and backhanded her across the face, shouting in anger. Her jaw throbbed and her gag slipped. She scrambled away from him and screamed as loud as she could while barely catching her breath.
His fist came down toward her face and she managed to shift enough to avoid the hit. He lost his balance to the side as she bucked from under him.
The Lass and the Laird Page 6