by Mary McCall
Hope rolled back her shoulders and forced herself to remain calm. Damn! He had scared her again.
He poured water into a goblet and brought it to her. “Here."
Her hand trembled as she accepted the water and drank her fill.
She watched as he returned the empty goblet to the table. He then picked up a stack of garments from the floor where he had tossed them upon entering and gave them to her. “'Twould please me if you wear these tonight."
She stared awestruck at the clothes and caressed the tiny plaid bows decorating a fine gauzy shift, which rested atop a plaid-trimmed gown and full-length MacPherson plaid. Matching slippers were even tucked into the pile. “They are beautiful. I appreciate the honor you do me."
Leonce softened his expression, as if pleased by her reaction.. “The Lady MacPherson must wear my plaid on every garment, right down to her shift.” Slipping his fingers under her chin, he gently raised her gaze to his. “'Tis my duty to see that she does."
She favored him with a quivering smile. “She will."
"One more thing, wife.” He winked and dangled a deep-plum-colored ribbon in front of her face. “This is the color purple."
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Chapter Fourteen
* * * *
Hope awoke atop Leonce in the predawn hour, with her head nestled in the crook of his neck. She burrowed into his warmth, and his arm tightened about her. She enjoyed the security of his sleeping embrace.
Her mind drifted to their wedding feast and the unease she felt when Leonce had carried her into the hall. So many MacPhersons had looked at her with scorn that she regretted planning the banquet and wanted to return to Leonce's chamber. He ignored their contempt and focused his attention on her. He even bragged to Ian about her killing the main course.
Thrilled over the marriage, Bertie sat beside her, addressing her as “Mam” in every sentence. Cassie sparkled, and Hope relished the reunion with her dearest friend, wishing they could spend time together as they had in the past. She received official introductions to Aonghus and Bowyn, who set about welcoming her. Despite the tension in the hall, the small gathering at the high table put her at ease, and she enjoyed the feast.
Unfortunately, she couldn't suppress a yawn. Leonce decided she must return to bed. After allowing her a moment of farewell with Cassie, he carried her back to his chamber, helped her remove the many layers of clothes, and rubbed balm into her back. His stroking hands sent a feeling of bliss through her body. She relaxed, delighting in the exciting new sensations.
She expected Leonce to rejoin the revelry, which from the sounds of jocularity had increased after her departure. Instead, he removed his plaid and slid into bed. Then he pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and fell asleep.
Having someone show her such tender regard sent a small beam of light shining upon her shadowed heart. A sense of rightness cocooned her.
She gazed through the gentle moonlight at the slumber-softened features of this man whom she had decided to love. Questions plagued her: Why would he offer protection to an enemy? What did he truly want from her? Could she really depend on him? Would he ever love her? What if his clan kept hating her? Would he come to regret his choice? What if they didn't fit?
Her heart skipped a beat. Leonce wouldn't want to keep her if they couldn't mate. ‘Twas what seemed to drive most men after all.
Zounds! Did she want The Lion to mate with her? That question intrigued and terrified her at the same time. Something about him captivated her, for earlier she had heedlessly followed the command in his eyes and then surrendered to the touch of his lips.
She studied his mouth. A heady rush shot through her during their earlier kiss. She sensed that he held back the best part. That rush had been leading up to something glorious, and she wanted to experience the feelings his lips inspired.
He had tricked her into a lifetime. Mayhap she could trick him into a kiss.
She shifted upward and placed her mouth upon his. She experimented, running her tongue between his lips as he had done to her. Two steely arms entrapped her, and a big hand gripped the back of her head. His tongue plunged into her mouth, sending fire sizzling down to her toes. Her leg, already draped over his, hooked tightly around a massive thigh. She kneaded sinewy shoulders and marveled at the strength harnessed there.
Strong hands caressed up and down her back, stoking new fires. Her heart beat a deafening rhythm in her ears as his shaft stiffened against her thigh. A tremor of fear passed through her as she realized his already huge flesh was growing. A large hand cupped one breast and gently squeezed, rubbing a callused thumb over her nipple, exciting it to a tight peak. Her fire burned hotter. Her kiss transformed into a plea for Leonce to give her all the enchantment his touch promised.
His mouth left hers to suck and nip a trail from her neck to her shoulder. She whimpered, grabbed his hair, and tried pulling his mouth up to hers. He pushed her onto her back. His sizzling nips moved lower until he sucked her breast. A whirlwind of pleasure stormed in the pit of her belly.
His hand roved over her abdomen, down the outside of her leg, and then upward between her thighs. Lord help her, she burned. She opened her forbidden flesh to the urgency his touch spawned within her. His fingers caressed her sensitive folds, and she arched and moaned as little flames burst in her brain. Pressure built deep in her womb. Her body moistened, trying to drench the fire in her groin. A long finger invaded her sheath. She moved restlessly against his hand, seeking relief from the exquisite torture.
He shifted and latched onto her other nipple. She gripped his skull to hold him in place, all the while his fingers stroking her desire. A moan escaped her, and she became a quivering mass of molten sensations. His stiff rod pulsated against her inner thigh. She clamped her legs together, holding him captive.
A growl rumbled low in his chest. He moved over her and took possession of her mouth—plunging, sucking, pillaging.
Big thighs wedged between hers, pushing her legs wide. Hot flesh probed at her opening. His hands caressed her back, and a sensual fire blazed through her belly. His grip settled upon her hips, and his rigid shaft pushed inward, stretching her.
Icy panic shivered through Hope, dousing desire. She pushed at his chest and tried to pull her mouth from his so she could tell him to stop, but his passionate domination persisted. Moving her pelvis downward provoked a conquering assault. His grip tightened, and he fully penetrated her in one swift, powerful thrust.
Hope jerked her head to one side. A cry tore from her lips before she could suppress it. Zounds! Now he knew of her pain and would make it worse. Silent tears streamed from her eyes. She pressed them shut. She couldn't dredge up any control over her fragile emotions.
Leonce froze and sucked in a ragged breath. He tightened his grip on her hips, halting her frantic movements. She wondered if he realized just how sore she was.
"Hope, hold still,” he said in a harsh tone.
She went rigid, trembling beneath him.
"I didn't want this to happen, but I'm not sure I can stop. How is your back?"
What did he mean he didn't want this to happen? Had he changed his mind about their marriage, or did he not want her to be a real wife? He would bloody well know her rage if either were true!
"Answer me, Hope. How is your back?"
"'Twas not my back you ripped apart, you cursed rutting boar!"
Leonce chuckled and rubbed his jaw against her cheek. “'Twas bound to happen soon. You have a passionate nature to wake me so."
She jerked her head away. Zounds and rot! Now he thought her a cursed slut for sure. “You mistake curiosity for passion."
"Curiosity is it now?” he asked, lusty amusement in his tone. “I like your curiosity."
He leaned down, sucked her sensitive earlobe, and then swirled his tongue inside her canal. An erotic quaver shuddered through her body, and he grinned smugly.
"Oh, stop, and get off me!” Hope pushed at his shoulders and then g
runted when he didn't budge.
Leonce ignored her struggles. “Does it still hurt?"
His husky burr sent a new thrill through her. She eyed him warily. “What?"
"Having me inside you. How does it feel?"
She felt filled to the core of her being with him. The slicing pain was about gone, and his pulsating flesh rekindled the fiery pressure that begged for his touch. Zounds! She couldn't tell him that. He already thought her wanton.
"Tell me.” He emphasized his order by pressing his pelvis downward.
Hope's eyes widened as friction sparked. “Feels too cursed big."
"You feel tight and hot. I'm certain ‘tis a perfect fit.” Leonce kissed her lips and gazed at her with a searing intensity.
He pulled back, and then he sank back in, refilling her, slow and steady. She gasped and braced her hands against his chest. His mouth descended.
"Relax,” he whispered against her lips. He kissed her with urgency, mating his tongue with hers. His hand caressed downward, moving between them, restoking the fire in her sensitive folds. She spilled a moan into his mouth, then dueled with his tongue and bucked against his hand.
She was ready as Leonce proceeded slowly and gently. He pulled back and sank into her slick, tight sheath, “Feel me inside you, Hope. You have waited your whole life for me, and you're mine now. You were made just for me."
Hope whimpered and moved against him with erratic, undisciplined motions.
Sweat burst upon his brow as she scored his back. He continued the slow, torturous rhythm. “Easy, love. Don't rush. Trust me to get you there."
In a frantic effort to spur him on, Hope raised her knees and gripped him around his waist with her legs, taking more of him inside. She pressed her feet against his buttocks and thrust upward. “More!"
Control fled. Leonce increased the force and velocity of his thrusts. She met his rhythm, letting him carry her to heights beyond the clouds. She felt no fear of falling, trusting him to catch her if she did. Stars surrounded her as the burning pressure became sweetly agonizing.
"Now, Hope. Come with me now."
The stars exploded. A wave of molten pleasure rushed through her womb, sending currents throughout her body. Then she felt herself falling on a blissful cloud and luxuriating in rapture she had never dreamed possible.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes. Leonce stared at her with an inscrutable expression. She smiled, reached up, and caressed his cheek. “You caught me again."
Her hand dropped upon her chest, and she fell into a deep slumber.
* * * *
Leonce eased away and sat on the side of the bed, looking at the dreamy smile on her kiss-swollen lips. Dawn's early light filtered into the room. His hands shook, and he curled them into fists.
God's bones! What had just happened? He felt like a boy having his first woman while lying with his young, innocent wife. She had driven him savage with passion. This woman could steal his soul if he wasn't careful.
Rustling and a contented purr attracted his attention, and he turned. Hope lay on her side, facing away, and he stared in horror. His bed looked like a battlefield after the last warrior had fallen. The wound at Hope's waist oozed around the scab. Blood trickled from the stitches in her leg. Proof of her virginity mingled with the carnage and marked him as well.
Damn, she hadn't been ready for this. Leonce wiped a hand over his face. He should have stopped when she asked, but her curiosity had so inflamed his ardor that he persevered. Never mind that she hadn't let him be gentle. She hadn't known what she was inciting. He was the one with experience.
He went to the side table and poured water into a basin. Then he grabbed a linen and walked back to the bed. After easing Hope onto her stomach, he cleansed the blood from her wounds and from between her thighs. He applied salve to the wound at her waist. He didn't know what to do about the poultice, which had fallen off, except leave it for Freya to replace later.
He massaged the balm into her back. Hope purred, rolling her muscles into his palm. Leonce groaned as his shaft hardened at her easy response.
She would hate him if he took her again this soon. Hell, she would probably hate him anyway for taking her the first time. But could he be around her and not touch her?
Nay!
'Twas time to go raiding.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fifteen
* * * *
Freya entered the chieftain's chamber, carrying a tray that contained a morning repast for her mistress. Bowyn followed, hauling a chest over his shoulder. He placed the large box on the floor beside the one Leonce used. Hearing Freya gasp, he turned around and saw the bloodstained sheets.
"Saint Columba! Do you think he killed her?” he asked, shocked.
"Nay, but I thought he had more sense. He could have at least waited until the poultices weren't needed.” Freya set the tray on a table and jerked the linens from the bed. “Are her things still here?"
Bowyn glanced around. “Aye, by the chest. Are you thinking she's fled?"
"I wouldn't blame her if she had. You'd best find her. I wouldn't wish to be you and have to tell the chieftain his wife is lost."
"He would have me drawn and quartered.” Bowyn headed for the door.
"Is someone out there?” Hope called from the garderobe.
Bowyn halted. “Aye, milady. ‘Tis Bowyn. Freya is with me. The chieftain said you were to stay in bed for four days."
"You can tell him that sometimes nature calls, and I refuse to sleep on a wet bed unless I can inflict the same cursed torture on him.” Hope hopped to the doorway, wearing a happy grin. “But I will beg you not to tell him. ‘Twill do me good to sit in a chair with my foot propped, else all this laying around makes me grow soft."
Bowyn smiled. He couldn't remember seeing anything ever look softer or finer in his life. Hope had donned the gown she wore the previous evening. Her tousled tresses floated about her in a shimmering golden mass. Above her swollen, cherry smile, sapphire eyes glowed with a radiant light.
Freya harrumphed. “The chief will have both our heads if you injure yourself further, milady."
"I promise I'll not.” Hope tucked an errant strand behind her ear and gestured toward the hearth. “Help me to the chair. Despite what you may think, I know my limits. I just pushed them more than usual getting Bertie to safety. Fear no longer drives me."
"I see no harm in it for a wee while. Come, milady. I'll carry you.” Bowyn carried Hope across the room and set her gently in the chair. “I will go find a stool so we can prop your foot. Will we need anything else, Freya?"
"Nay, ‘twill be all."
After Bowyn left, Freya picked up the tray and set it across Hope's lap. “Are you feeling well this morn?"
"Aye, Cassie did a good job. ‘Tis only a minor throb in my leg, and my back is near healed.” She took a swallow of goat's milk and a bite from an oatcake as Freya went about straightening the room and changing the bedclothes. “You're not from around here, are you, Freya?"
"I am Saxon. Came from Northumbria with the chieftain's mother about thirty summers ago. Stayed on after she died. Why do you ask?"
Hope swallowed a bite of honeyed porridge and then smiled. “This is the most delicious treat I ever tasted. My mother used to call it brose. Please give Jeannie my thanks.” Hope filled her spoon again and paused, staring at her next bite. “I asked because you are nice to me. Most of the MacPhersons detest the sight of me."
"They'll come around.” Freya spread a quilt over the bed and fluffed the pillows.
"I'll not count on it. My cursed father committed terrible crimes against this clan. I do not blame them for hating me.” She shrugged. “I am used to not being wanted, so it doesn't matter. I'm just surprised The MacPherson would stoop to wed me."
"Seems to me, he doesn't think he stooped."
"Have you seen him this morning? He was gone when I woke.” She raised another bite of brose to her mouth.
"He has
gone raiding."
Hope stilled, then set down her spoon and bowed her head. “Will he be gone long?"
"He didn't tell me.” Freya hesitated. “The chieftain is a good man. Gets moody sometimes. Seems to think he has to constantly prove his worth, thanks to his father ignoring him in favor of his two older brothers and nobody ever expecting him to be chieftain. But his moods always come about, and he has been good for this clan. You be patient. He will be good for you too."
"'Tis strange. I do not know him, but I have a feeling you're right. At least I hope so. ‘Twould be nice to belong somewhere.” She took another swallow of milk and stared into the cup. “Freya, when the chieftain brought me up the mountain after the wedding, we passed a blond man with big brown eyes who walked hunched over with a limp. He smiled at me. Know where he is? I want to meet him."
Freya turned away from Hope to clean the hearth. “I have no notion who that would be. Bowyn brought in a chest for you from the laird. ‘Tis by the window. I aired out four gowns that belonged to the laird's mother. You can wear them till you have a chance to make some for yourself."
"I'll be content with those gowns. Please do not trouble yourself finding material for new ones."
"'Tis no trouble, and the laird insisted."
Hope set down her cup as her cheeks heated. “'Tis a problem, Freya."
"What is that?"
"I...I never learned to sew proper and cannot make a gown."
Freya walked over and gave Hope's shoulder a motherly pat. “Don't fret. I will be glad to help you learn.” She glanced at the door as Bowyn returned with the stool. “'Tis about time. Thought you had gone off and joined the raid."
"Aye, and you're wishing ‘twas me and not Aonghus who went.” Bowyn slipped the stool under Hope's right leg. “How is that?"
"'Tis fine. My thanks.” She smiled at the warrior.
"Oh get on with you, Bowyn.” Freya turned back to her task at the hearth. “The MacPherson took Aonghus because he will have The MacDougall quaking. The old geezer would laugh at the sight of you."
Bowyn chuckled and winked at Hope. “I'll be seeing you in black if they ever bring Aonghus home in a box."