Wicked Highland Ways

by Mary Wine

  He kissed her hard. Pressing his mouth against hers as the slow pace they’d been using evaporated like a bubble popping. Now there was a hard urgency. His mouth opened hers, determined to claim her.

  Brenda surged up to meet him. They seemed to clash, both of their needs colliding and setting off sparks.

  Which only made the combination even more unpredictable.

  He demanded. Kissing her in an effort to subdue her.

  She drew her nails down his back, making sure he felt her strength in return.

  He arched up, sucking his breath through his teeth before he looked back down at her, the flash of intent so powerful she shivered. But the truth was she wasn’t sure if it was from the separation between them or the anticipation of what was to come.

  Bothan didn’t allow her time to contemplate the issue, and she didn’t want it.

  All she craved was him. He settled back down on top of her, destroying everything except for the feeling of being in contact with him. She didn’t know where he ended or she began, only that she needed to be closer to him. The end of it all came too soon, leaving her gasping on the surface of the bed without the strength or will to move.

  But in the darkness, there was no need to do anything but bask in the moment. Bothan surrounded her, his scent, the warmth of his skin. The night was like a haven created for them before reality might arrive with the light of day to illuminate all of the reasons why happiness wasn’t something more than a fleeting moment stolen in the dark hours.

  * * *

  Bothan was gone when she woke.

  Brenda curled up, catching the bedding as it slipped down to reveal her bare breasts. The edge of the horizon wasn’t even pink yet, and still he was gone.

  Siren.

  Enchanted.

  All the words a man used when he wanted to cut a woman from his life instead of allowing her power over him.

  He was finished with her.

  He’d followed her all the way to England, but now that the Campbells and the Sutherlands were involved, Bothan was wise enough to recognize the limits of keeping her. Somehow, she’d decided she meant more to him.

  What do ye expect? Love?

  Not that she truly understood what love was, anyway.

  Ye do now…ye love him…

  The realization made his rejection of her even more painful.

  She crawled out of the bed, staggering under the blow. Pain was ripping her to shreds as she gave up and let hot tears trickle down her cheeks.

  She truly was cursed. The beauty and position looked on by so many as advantages in life were weighing her down, dragging her straight into hell. Except she was still breathing, which meant she could look forward to many, many years of living with the knowledge of just what fate had deprived her of.

  Perhaps ye’re being emotional…

  Brenda looked around the chamber, noting the fact that everything of his was gone.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been shown she had no worth after she’d been bedded. So many people thought her a tease for the way she brazenly told men she would not have them, and yet the truth was she knew from bitter experience her worth lay only in the challenge she presented.

  And the dowry she might bring.

  Bothan is no’ so shallow…

  No, he was a practical man. One who lived a simple life. And she represented trouble with the Campbells. A clan that would never leave the Gunns in peace if she remained with them.

  Perhaps it was a kindness to leave her before she woke next to him.

  Brenda wiped her tears and dressed. Bothan was precisely what she had always admired about him.

  A good chief.

  He is a fine man, as well…

  Yet he was gone now as the dawn lit the horizon. Just as she would need to resume her role as the cousin of the Grant laird. The Earl of Sutherland had said it so very well—she had always known her marriage bed would not be crafted to suit her personal choices.

  No, there would only be stolen moments in the darkness when she might follow her heart and passion.

  She found her composure in the fact that Bothan was no different. Happy unions were the domain of the simple people. They had no position, no wealth, but they had free choice. The world was such a strange place where everyone coveted what the other had without thinking about how much they themselves were envied.

  * * *

  He’d take her home.

  Bothan tightened his grip on his emotions. He’d failed to safeguard his own wife.

  It was a deficit there was no making excuses for. At least, he would not be offering any. The decision tore at his gut. Yet he wrestled with it, forbidding himself to go to Brenda.

  All he wanted to do was linger beside her, watch her wake after sleeping next to him, and see the way she took him in, still there next to him.

  Christ, he wanted to watch her recall how she’d invited him into her bed.

  But it would be the coward’s way.

  Bothan gritted his teeth and worked to saddle his mount. He had failed in the most basic duty of a husband, so he wouldn’t force Brenda to accept him. Passion was one thing, but there had to be more between them.

  He wasn’t going to have her settle for less from him.

  He might not have a castle, but he’d protect her, and if he couldn’t, he’d send her back to her family, where she would never again know the fear of waking up with someone like Hamell Campbell looming over her.

  Seven

  The Gunns were happy to see their chief return.

  Brenda heard the bells ringing in the towers as they were sighted on the road. By the time they made it to the yard, it was full of women eager to greet their men and children laughing as they spied their fathers.

  Joy.

  One she’d done a lot to destroy since Bothan had first brought her to the stronghold.

  She slid off her mare and did her best to conceal how much she wanted to flinch over the open happiness around her. Guilt was weighing her down.

  Ye were hoping things might resolve themselves?

  Well, if she had been holding out hope for a way to stay with Bothan, one look at his back as he took his horse to the stable without a single glance toward her was enough to remind her of all the harsh realities between them.

  He had to do what was best for his people.

  And that wasn’t keeping her there when the Campbells weren’t going to leave her in peace.

  She gave a little grunt of frustration and went to seek out the tower chamber. In the morning, there would be another week of long, hard riding for her. She should take the comfort there was to be enjoyed while she might.

  It was best to forget about the things that could never be.

  * * *

  Brenda didn’t wake until well into the night. The towers had quieted down, the fires burning low. Her belly rumbled low and long.

  She sat up because there was no going back to sleep as hunger gnawed at her insides. The moon was full, allowing her to make her way down the steps and through the passageways well enough. The two boys who worked in the kitchens were asleep along the edge of the kitchen wall on pallets they kept rolled up during the day.

  Brenda stepped carefully, reaching for some bread left on the table. A hunk of cheese was there as well and a bowl of newly harvested berries. She gathered up the food and turned around to retrace her steps.

  Bothan stood behind her, just as dark and huge as the first time she’d seen him.

  The bowl slipped from her distracted fingers. He moved in a flash, swooping close to catch the pottery before it smashed against the floor.

  She let out a little sound of astonishment as he succeeded.

  And then she trembled as the scent of his skin filled her head.

  How had she thought she could live without hi
m?

  When have ye ever been able to tell yerself how to feel about him?

  She smiled, enjoying the jest at her own expense. Bothan looked at her, appearing shocked by the smile on her lips. For the first time since they’d left Sutherland Castle, his lips twitched up into the grin she’d come to expect from him.

  But he caught her wrist and turned around before she could investigate the reaction further. He pulled her along, retracing her steps up to his chamber.

  “I suppose I should have thought to have some food put in yer room for when ye woke,” he said once they’d made it back inside the chamber.

  “Do nae worry,” she assured him. “I can see to me own needs.”

  He contemplated her for a moment before he nodded and turned to leave.

  “Stay with me,” she said. The words just crossed her lips. Even her pride had melted away beneath the weight of her need to have him. “I know I’m too much trouble to keep.” She dropped the food on a table. “And ye can send me away in the morning, but no one will know if ye stay with me now.”

  She was begging.

  And she didn’t care what he thought of it.

  Bothan snapped back around to peg her with a hard gaze. She felt it jab into her as surely as she might have a dagger.

  “I’ve caused ye too much trouble,” she conceded. “Little wonder ye want me on my way.”

  His eyes widened. “How could ye want me, Brenda?”

  Bothan moved toward her, grasping her forearms as he looked down into her startled face.

  “I failed to protect ye on me own land!” he hissed. “Worse still, I knew the way back but chose to seduce ye instead of making certain ye were safe!”

  He released her, as though he’d just realized he’d grabbed her. “I am no’ worthy of ye, Brenda.”

  Shock held her silent. Bothan was seething, but she suddenly realized it was with self-loathing. He took her silence as confirmation, turning away in disgust.

  “Husband,” Brenda called after him.

  He froze in the doorway, standing for a moment that felt like an hour before he faced her.

  “I’m a lot of trouble,” Brenda began as she stepped toward him. “Ye followed me to England when I told ye I would no’ have ye.”

  He’d turned all the way around and stood contemplating her.

  “I bedded ye and still demanded to be set free when me cousin Symon arrived,” she continued.

  “Ye did,” Bothan agreed.

  She stepped up so she needed to tip her head back to maintain eye contact with him. “So if ye set yer mind to seduce me, it would seem I’m as much to blame as ye are for what happened.”

  He shook his head. “On my land…” Bothan began to move toward her. She fell back a step and then another. “I am chief…”

  “Aye,” she agreed, still moving backward.

  “I put ye at risk, Brenda,” he growled. “And ye have the right to reject me over it.”

  The bed was close behind her. Bothan had backed her nearly all the way to it. She reached out and grabbed his shirtfront.

  “I am cursed,” she said.

  He grinned at her, the same arrogant curving of his lips he’d first flashed at her at the harvest festival when they’d met.

  “You’re interesting, lass,” he muttered as he reached out to touch her hair. “I expect nothing less of a redhead. Nature marked ye for all to see, and I did follow ye all the way to England without a care for knowing ye were no’ going to ever be boring.”

  His words soothed the wounds she’d been licking for the past week, filling her with a sensation she’d never expected to encounter in a life filled with harsh realities.

  “I love ye, Bothan Gunn.” She pulled on his shirt and heard the seams protesting. “And I am no’…no’ going anywhere.”

  He caught her up against him, giving her a taste of his strength as he tilted his head to one side. “Ye’re going to bed, lass. My bed.”

  Bothan scooped her up, but he didn’t hurry to the bed. He held her against his chest, allowing her to feel his heart beating while their breaths mingled. She reached up and laid her hand against the side of his face, delighting in the feeling of their flesh meeting.

  “I love ye, Brenda,” he muttered softly. “Ye’ve heard me pledge me life to ye, but it’s me heart that had me following ye to England.”

  “And it’s my heart that will no’ allow ye to be a stubborn fool and send me away,” she answered.

  He started to speak, but she pressed a fingertip against his lips.

  “Take me to bed, husband. We’ve done enough talking,” she implored him.

  “Aye, lass, we have indeed.”

  * * *

  The window shutters were still open.

  Brenda stirred at first light as the summer sun came into the room. For a moment, she felt fear stalking her with doubt that the night before had been only the longing of her heart.

  The cock at the far end of the yard started to crow.

  “I’m thinking of asking Alba for chicken for supper,” Bothan grumbled beside her.

  The fowl in the yard continued to greet the morning as Bothan stirred behind her. He reached out and slid his hand along her hip and across her lower belly as he came close.

  She shivered. The connection between their bare flesh sent a jolt through her system.

  “Hmm,” Bothan muttered against her ear as he cupped her bare breast and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps that bird might become me best friend if it wakes me early enough to enjoy ye before the rest of the men have thought to look for me.”

  He was hard and ready, his member teasing her backside. Brenda rubbed her bottom against it, earning a husky chuckle from her bed partner.

  His hand slid lower, teasing her curls before dipping into her folds to rub her little pearl.

  “Say it again,” Bothan implored her.

  “Confess I am cursed and far too much trouble to keep around?” Brenda teased him.

  He bit her neck in reprimand, just a nip that sent a twist of anticipation through her belly.

  “Ye know the word I long to hear, Brenda.” He rolled her over, coming up to settle between her thighs.

  She opened her legs for him, purring with delight as his weight pressed her down, but he held back from giving her the final thing she wanted, capturing her wrists when she slid her hands down his back and tried to press him forward with a hand on each of his hips.

  “Say it,” he rasped, his tone betraying how much effort it was costing him to hold back.

  Brenda lifted her eyelids and locked gazes with him. Demand glittered in his eyes, just as hard and relentless as the day she’d first denied him. She curled her fingers into talons and felt her fingernails sink into his skin. His lips thinned with enjoyment as his eyes narrowed with determination.

  “Husband,” she muttered huskily.

  He thrust forward, filling her.

  “Husband…” she said louder as he started to move.

  Her body was quick to build toward a peak. The bed ropes groaned as Bothan rode her harder and faster in pursuit of satisfaction. She let her eyes slide shut, surrendering completely to the moment and the man she trusted more than herself.

  But at the moment she felt it all breaking loose inside her, Brenda opened her eyes and locked gazes with her partner.

  “Husband!” she declared.

  Bothan growled his approval as pleasure tore through her. She was clenching him tightly between her thighs, lifting up and off the bed to take him as deep as possible.

  And he was thrusting into her, riding her through the moment before spilling his seed.

  * * *

  “I’m famished,” Bothan declared as he watched her try to finish dressing. “And yet the thought of telling ye to hurry up and co
ver those plump tits seems misplaced.”

  Brenda sent him a glare. “Ye can no’ be ready for another round just—”

  She bit back her last word as he raised an eyebrow.

  “That was no’ a challenge.” She pulled her lace through an eyelet so fast it snapped.

  “An honest mistake.” Bothan shrugged into his doublet. “Ye do tend to toss out the barbed comments…wife.”

  Brenda shrugged and finished dressing. Her own belly was rumbling. The food she’d collected from the kitchen the night before was on the table where they’d both forgotten it. Bothan captured her hand and took her down the steps toward the hall, where the scent of porridge was very welcome.

  Alba was ladling out portions of it to a line of men waiting to break their fast.

  “Good,” Maddox said as he spied Bothan and Brenda. The captain let out a whistle. “Leif! Get the lads up to see what is wrong with the laird’s chamber door. For some reason…” Maddox looked at Bothan. “It seems the damned thing will no’ close, and let out every noise all through the night. I did no’ get a single wink of sleep!”

  Brenda lost her grip on her bowl. Once again, Bothan caught the pottery before it ended up smashing onto the floor.

  “Yer face is the same color as yer hair,” Bothan whispered as he set the bowl down on a table.

  He kissed her cheek as his men dissolved into laughter at their expense. Bothan settled beside her as the Gunn retainers joined them.

  “Do nay take offense, Brenda.” Bothan patted her thigh beneath the tabletop. “Maddox is just having a wee bit of fun.”

  Brenda turned a smile toward her husband. “Let him.”

  Bothan offered her a smile before he turned to enjoy his meal. Brenda looked at the men and women of the Gunn clan. They were practical. Pretense and ceremony were minimal, and she loved it more than any castle or palace she’d ever attended.

  It would seem she was home at long last.

  * * *

  It would be dark soon.

  Brenda drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent of Gunn land. Alba had rung the supper bell some time ago. Brenda had watched the Gunn people moving toward the towers and smiled. Now the light was gone, making the windows in the tower glow in the night.