by Mary Wine
Somehow, she’d never realized how good it felt to be pressed against the hard body of a man. The sensation flooding her was pure pleasure.
“Sutherland will no’ be dissolving our union if ye are with child, lass,” Bothan said.
Brenda lifted her chin, locking gazes with him. The need to protest died on her lips. She really wasn’t certain why, only that her feelings were a tangled mess she had no ability to straighten out.
A child…
Bothan smoothed his hand up her spine, sending little tremors of delight through her. It was a soft, sure motion of his hand that ended when he threaded his fingers through her unbound hair. He lifted a section of it up, combing through it to the ends.
“Ye are stunning,” he praised her.
She’d been coveted before for her beauty.
But the way Bothan looked at her was different. For the first time, she felt beautiful instead of like a prized possession.
Bothan returned his hand to her nape, his fingers gently working at the knots he discovered there.
“I told ye, if it was in me mind to force the matter between us, I’d have consummated the wedding at court,” Bothan said. “Ye will call me husband by yer own choice.”
He let out a harsh breath before releasing her. Brenda caught a flash of frustration in his eyes before he moved back across the chamber. He paused at the door and turned to look at her.
“I’ll be waiting, Brenda.”
Brenda ended up dropping onto the stool again, looking between the closed door and the bed. So many days traveling should have seen her hurrying to enjoy the comfort of the bed. But now, all she noticed was how empty it would be without Bothan in it with her.
* * *
Some of his men snored.
Bothan found himself staring at the ceiling of the great hall and grinding his teeth. Most of his retainers were rolled in their plaids and sleeping around him. He’d spent plenty of time with them on the road, but tonight was the first time he’d contemplated smothering some of them.
“Chief.” Maddox sat up beside him with a disgruntled look on his face. “We’ve spent our share of sleepless nights together, but tonight I swear I’m close to murdering ye.”
There were a couple of chuckles around them, proving more than one man was still awake.
“I am no’ snoring,” Bothan said to defend himself.
“No.” Maddox reached out and hit him on the shoulder. “Ye’re just shifting about like a bear trying to get comfortable for the winter.”
“I’ll be happy to help carry ye back to yer cave where ye and yer wife can settle matters while the rest of us sleep,” another man added.
Bothan started to sit up. Maddox punched him on the shoulder and sent him back down to the floor. Or at least to where Bothan caught himself on his elbows, which sent a jolt of pain up his arms from the hard impact.
“Do nae waste yer breath arguing,” Maddox said. “Every man here knows what is keeping ye awake.”
There were several grumbles around him as his men proved they were very much awake. Bothan grunted but kept his jaw shut. There were few lights still burning in the hall, but even the expense of using candles through the night wouldn’t keep the men of his clan from allowing themselves to be taken by surprise.
Bothan sat up, looking across the rows of plaid-wrapped bodies. Near the passageway that led to the kitchens, he could make out the shapes of couples. For the unwed or newly married members of his clan, sleeping in the hall was a means of being frugal. It was far from private, but he suddenly understood that just lying next to the woman of his choice was something to long for.
“What are ye waiting for?” Maddox asked.
His captain used a low tone. Bothan took a moment to decide if Maddox had truly spoken or if Bothan’s own thoughts were getting the better of him. Maddox opened his eyes, proving he’d spoken.
“Ye knew full well Brenda was no’ going to be a simple woman to bridle. Keep giving her so much rein, and yer beard will be gray by the time ye claim her,” Maddox said before closing his eyes and rolling over to sleep.
There were a couple of chuckles at Bothan’s expense before the hall went silent again. He settled back down. Not to sleep, though. No, his mind was full, but he wasn’t frustrated by the thoughts.
Maddox was correct.
It was time to craft the next steps in his campaign.
* * *
Spring brought challenges along with new life.
Brenda heard the women shouting at first light. The window beside the bed was open, allowing the ruckus into the chamber. She flung off the bedding and went to the window. Below was the yard. Something was happening at the far side of it.
Brenda hurried to dress and ran down the steps while still braiding her hair. The day was yet only half lit, but a good number of the Gunn retainers were up in response. By the time Brenda made it to the source of the shouting, sweat was trickling down her back in spite of the mild temperature of early morning. The mist was just starting to burn off. All around them were wispy traces of it, and the mountaintops were still shrouded.
“That’s eight hens and both the cocks,” a woman declared.
At the far end of the yard was an area for the chickens. Placed inside the stone fence that enclosed the yard, it should have been a safe place for the birds to roost. The scene being illuminated by morning light proved otherwise. The four dozen nesting boxes showed signs of attack. Several of them were torn clean open, feathers sticking to the half-dried blood smeared on the sides of the wood. Half of the nest boxes were made of stone, and the hens were poking their heads out as they shrieked.
“Wolves,” Leif offered in explanation.
“Aye,” Bothan agreed from beyond the fence line.
Brenda moved through the opening to find her husband kneeling down and looking at fresh tracks.
“They’ll be back, too,” Leif said. “Now that they know where to find an easy meal.”
Isla was gathering the dead hens in her apron. “Terrible waste of eggs.” She turned to carry them back toward the kitchens for cooking.
The women joined Isla while the men clustered around Bothan. Maddox was pointing into the distance where the edge of the forest began, explaining where to search for the wolves. Bothan looked back, sensing her attention on him. Brenda felt her cheeks heating as his men turned to see what had distracted their chief.
She whirled around, hearing their chuckles follow her back toward the tower.
Her cheeks were stinging. Brenda hurried back up to the chamber she’d slept in to hide. But once the doors were closed, she was alone with the heat turning her cheeks scarlet.
“Running, Brenda?”
Brenda gasped, spinning around to face the door so fast her skirts flared up. Bothan offered her a cocky grin as he pointed at her.
“Blushing too,” he remarked in a tone rich with enjoyment. “Dare I think ye are worried about me going out to hunt the wolves?”
The hunt was a far safer topic than her blushing. Brenda nodded and looked away. “Wolves are dangerous. I’d be hard-hearted if I did not spare a thought for yer health while ye pit yerself against them.”
She’d made a tactical error in looking away from him. Bothan took full advantage of it by closing the distance between them. As she finished talking, he’d made it to her side, grasping a handful of her skirts to secure her in place while he cupped her chin and raised her face so their gazes met.
“I thought ye wanted me to believe ye hard-hearted, Brenda,” he whispered.
“I do—”
He sealed her response beneath his lips, controlling her attempt to shift away by the grip he had on her skirts. The hand beneath her chin slid back along her jawline and into her hair. All the running had caused her hasty braid to unweave itself so only a few inches of loose braid remained. Both
an combed his fingers through the strands, pulling it all free. He lifted his mouth from hers and watched as her hair fell down in a curtain of crimson tresses that matched the color of her cheeks.
“Since ye want me to think ye hard-hearted, lass,” he said as he returned his gaze to hers, “I shall have to make certain I leave ye with a reason to rethink yer position.”
She gasped as a promise flashed through his eyes. An insane twist of anticipation went through her belly. Brenda was still sucking in her breath when Bothan scooped her off her feet. He turned and took her toward the bed.
“Bothan…ye must—”
“Me thoughts as well,” he said as the bed ropes creaked beneath their weight. He followed her down onto the bed, capturing her wrists and pinning them to the surface of the comforter. “I must no’ allow ye to rebuild yer walls while I am away.” His eyes glittered with promise. “So I’ll knock them down now.”
He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. She writhed, but the truth was pleasure made her shift beneath him. There was a flood of sensation hitting her. Remaining still was impossible. She needed to move, to release it all somehow.
And Bothan’s hard body offered her plenty of places to release her impulses.
He was only in his shirt, his doublet no doubt left behind when he heard the raised voices that morning. The ties at the neck were open too, affording her a chance to slip her hands beneath the fabric. She shivered as she came into contact with his bare skin and moaned in anticipation.
“I want to hear ye, Brenda.” Bothan lifted his head from hers. But there was only a fraction of space between them. She felt his breath on the surface of her wet lips. “Christ…I want to carry the memory of the sounds I wring from ye with me.”
His jaw tightened with some decision. Brenda felt her breath catch in response. A moment later he was shifting, moving down her body and off the edge of the bed.
She gasped and sat up. Bothan flipped her skirts up, proving he wasn’t leaving her.
“I’m going to make ye cry out, Brenda,” he promised her. “And I’m going to keep me head while ye lose yers.”
Bothan would never be satisfied with claiming her body. No, he wanted her unconditional surrender.
That’s why ye fear him…
The knowledge hit her as Bothan cupped her knees and pushed her thighs open. She tried to twist away, but he moved forward, giving her no time to escape. She felt the brush of his lips against her slit, and then there was nothing but an explosion of need.
She was helpless against it, unable to do anything but lift her hips to his mouth. Bothan didn’t leave her wanting, either. He pulled her slit wide open as he sucked on the center of her pleasure. The pressure sent a shaft of hot need through her. The sensation was so intense she gasped and clawed at the bedding beneath her.
“Aye,” he rasped out. “That’s what I want…to hear ye gasp…”
There was naught to do except comply with his demands. He returned to her slit, licking her from the opening to her passage to her little pearl once more. She was twisting with the need to climax, the need to be filled. He seemed to sense it too, fingering her opening with one digit before thrusting it deep inside her passage.
She let out a moan.
And heard him release a little sound of male satisfaction.
“As much as I enjoyed riding ye,” Bothan declared gruffly, “there is much to be said for no’ being distracted by me own desire.”
He withdrew his finger and pushed it back up into her again.
“I want to see ye lifting yer hips for me.” He repeated his motions as he spoke. “Like that, lass…ride me fingers…let me see ye seeking pleasure from me…”
Brenda wasn’t thinking about what he said, only reacting to his words. She wasn’t even sure who was speaking because what he said mirrored the cravings filling her.
It was happening too fast. Her heart was racing as she gasped for enough breath to sustain the frantic pace. The need for release was building up, increasing in intensity before Bothan leaned down and sucked her clitoris once more. Brenda cried out, feeling the moment of climax hit her. It was blinding and searing hot, ripping her into pieces as pleasure twisted in her belly for endless moments.
When it passed, she opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Her body was lax on the surface of the bed as Bothan smoothed his hand along the top of her bare thigh.
“Look at me, Brenda,” he ordered her.
He kept his voice low, and she realized that the window shutters were wide open, allowing conversation from the yard below to filter in.
Her eyes rounded as she looked at the window and heard the unmistakable sound of Bothan chuckling.
But it wasn’t a happy sort of sound; no, he was pleased with himself and enjoying the moment of victory. He stroked her thigh once more, driving home once again how much she liked his touch.
“Look at me,” he repeated.
She turned her head, catching a glimpse of the victory in his eyes.
“Aye,” Bothan said. “I am pleased.” He leaned down over her body so his face was hovering above her own once again. “But no’ because I crave making ye my conquest,” he informed her.
“Then what do ye want?” she asked.
His lips curved up as he gently stroked the back of her cheek with his fingers.
“I want yer passion,” he answered her softly. “Ye’ve locked it away because the only men ye’ve known were intent on ignoring yer needs so they might use ye to sate their own.”
He kissed her again. A long, slow motion of his lips against hers. He pressed her mouth open, demanding everything she had to give. And there wasn’t any way to resist. No, pleasure was glowing softly in her belly, and yet there was something deeper to be gained by the kiss. A different sort of need, to be wanted once passion had been satisfied.
Bothan seemed to know she needed it, kissing her long and hard before pushing back from her.
He caught her skirt and pulled it down to cover her legs as he stood.
“I’ll remember ye like this, and I will be back to finish what we’ve started,” he declared before he turned and left the chamber.
Brenda curled up on the bed. Tears eased from the corners of her eyes as she tried to make her mind reason out her feelings. But she was doomed to failure because her walls were precisely where Bothan had said he intended them to be.
Crushed and lying on the ground. Leaving her open to everything she’d tried so hard to deny herself.
* * *
Leif and Maddox were waiting for him in the stable. Bothan inclined his head as they both reached up to tug on the corner of their bonnets when he approached.
“We can handle tracking the wolves,” Maddox said slowly.
Bothan grabbed the saddle lying over the rail between the stalls and eyed his captain as he carried it to his stallion. “I can see to me own courtship without the pair of ye deciding I need to stop taking care of me duties in order to accomplish the matter.”
Maddox wasn’t deterred. He stroked his beard as he watched Bothan secure the saddle. “Brenda Grant is no’ an ordinary sort of bride.”
Bothan tugged a strap and made sure it wasn’t too tight across the belly of his horse. “Aye, she is no’.”
His captains were expecting more of an explanation. Bothan ignored them as he finished preparing for the hunt. But their stares wore on his patience. With his own desire still raging, he found his temper short.
“A woman such as Brenda,” Bothan exclaimed gruffly, “needs to run a bit between rides.”
Leif and Maddox stared at him for a long moment before both of them grinned, which earned them a scowl from Bothan. They weren’t intimidated in the least. Both of them whistled as they followed him from the stables.
“Ye’re both unwed,” Bothan informed them once they’d stopped
to mount. “A fact I will be remembering.”
His threat didn’t make his men less inclined to grin at his expense. Not that Bothan had much attention to give to them once he mounted. His cock was still rock-hard with need, and sitting in the saddle sent pain through the engorged flesh. He tightened his jaw and set out, not waiting for his men.
The sooner he left, the faster he’d be back.
Four
“Tracking wolves takes time,” Alba said.
Brenda looked at the Head of House and nodded. “I understand it is more complicated than just finding them.”
Alba clucked her tongue as she glanced across the kitchen, taking notice of what the boys roasting meat were doing. She was competent in her duties and vigilant as well. Alba never left her attention on one thing for too long.
“Wolves do as much good as bad,” Brenda said, proving she understood why Bothan and his men hadn’t returned after nearly a week.
“Kill them and ye weaken the spirit of the land,” Isla added from where she was working on a pastry shell.
Brenda knew the stories. What child of the Highlands didn’t? Winter nights had been filled with tales of spirits, ones the Church frowned on, and yet there seemed no way to kill the traditions of firelight tales when the snow had them all trapped inside.
Superstitions?
Aye, and yet no one was fool enough to forget to share a little of their first mug of spring ale with the grandfather oak tree. The Lord above might be in charge of all their fates, but Brenda knew for certain that luck was something to covet.
Besides, she knew Alba was just attempting to reassure her Bothan would return soon. Brenda looked up and found the veteran member of the Gunn clan watching her.
“I am not concerned,” Brenda assured Alba.
Isla made a little sound under her breath. Two of the maids working at the large kitchen table giggled in response.
“Perhaps it was a poor choice of words to describe how ye feel about the chief being gone,” Alba replied.
Anyone else Brenda might have argued with. The Head of House knew it too. Alba offered her a smile that Brenda could have labeled smug if it wasn’t coupled with the wisdom glittering in the older woman’s eyes.