WARRIORS

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  “I believe he is hoping to put an end to his thieving ways.”

  “Then we are doomed, Jon Luc. How will he put food on the table? The other Graynes will see him soft and plunder our goods.”

  “My laird is no coward.”

  “Your lord? In a few days time, he is now your laird.”

  “Do not be cross with me, my lady. You need a strong husband and I say he is capable.”

  “We shall see about that when my father demands a Day of Truce. Now get out. I’ve heard enough.”

  Jon Luc left her as she wished. She couldn’t believe her ears. The Devil’s Wolf had surely cast a spell of enchantment. The border lairds thrived on violence and no kind of magic would ever change their way of thinking.

  Chapter Eleven

  As promised, Waylon gave Catrione a day to rest. On the following evening, he marched in with servants carrying platters to be set on the table. He then ordered her maidservant away.

  Catrione folded her arms against her chest. She would be strong and not let him touch her no matter how his recklessly handsome features made her heart beat like a drum in her chest. She didn’t care his dark strands glistened in the firelight or how he filled out his clothes as his muscles strained against the finery of the fabric.

  “Sit, mi’lady.” He had already done so, sampling the food laid out before him. “Come… or do ye have other things on yer mind?” His gaze shifted toward the bed and he wagged his brows in invitation.

  She felt her cheeks burn. “You’re disgusting.” She walked over to the other seat and plopped down, folding her arms across her chest once more.

  “Whatever do ye mean? I am trying to be accommodating.”

  “Then do so by choking on a chicken bone, will you now.”

  “Now is that any way to be talking to yer husband?”

  “Husband? Hah! You… you do your business then disappear. Where have you been?” she blurted out wishing she could have bitten her tongue. The man’s arrogant smile grated on her nerves.

  “Missed me, did ye.”

  “I most certainly did not. I only wish to know what my enemy is planning.”

  “Enemy is it? And here I thought we’d moved past such petty arguments.”

  She hated how his prolonged stare sent a rush of desire coiling through her.

  “Are ye no’ hungry?” His hand waved to the feast before them. “Do ye see something ye want?”

  She couldn’t be sure, but she had a sneaky suspicion his questions held a double meaning. “No, I see nothing I want.”

  “For shame,” he sighed and broke the intense gaze. “Cook has outdone himself. Maybe later.” He sat back in his seat. “How do ye fare?”

  “As well as any prisoner, I suppose.”

  “I mean are ye still sore?”

  “Oh.” She squirmed in her seat. Damn the man for being so bold, but then maybe she could use it to her advantage. “Yes, I am. Your brute force nearly killed me dead. I can barely walk.”

  His mouth twitched as if he forced himself not to smile. Maybe she’d overdone her complaint.

  “Well then, we shall have to do other things.”

  Alarm skittered through her. “What other things?”

  He slid back his chair. “Come here.”

  “No.”

  He sighed. His eyelids closed in a deliberate blink before he met her gaze. “Doonae tempt me to use force. Ye willnae like it, my sweet wildcat, if I do.”

  “I already don’t like it.”

  “Come here!” His voice boomed, making her jump.

  Maybe she shouldn’t provoke him into action. She stood, forcing herself to walk toward him, but making sure to stay out of his reach.

  “Closer.”

  She took another step.

  “Closer.”

  She took another small step but it proved the end of her game. His hand whipped out and grabbed her, forcing her to sit on his lap. He placed his strong hands on her waist, holding her still.

  “Much better.” He decided for both of them. “Now undo your laces.”

  “What?”

  He nodded his head toward her bodice. “The laces.”

  “Well, I never ...”

  “Ye will now.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  “So be it then.” He whipped out his knife so fast she didn’t even have time to blink. In one full sweep, he had cut the ties away, letting her gown come free.

  Her hands flew to her garment, trying to hold it together and failing miserably. “You horrible beast. Now look what you’ve done.”

  “I asked ye nicely, but ye dinnae comply."

  “You ruined my gown. The second one, I might add.”

  “Aye, but clothing is a bothersome distraction for what I want to do.”

  She tried to stand, put some distance between them, but he pulled her back onto his lap, tearing the already damaged garment further.

  “Let me go.”

  “Be still.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “I fear I cannae do what ye ask.”

  “Aye, aye, I am aware. I am a pawn in your games. Use me until I give you a child. Pray tell, why did you marry me before God only to mock the union? For let me assure you Devil’s Wolf, this is a charade of the worst kind.”

  “Very good questions, my dear. Though ye are the enemy, I do wish for my heir to be legitimate. So ye see, marriage was of the essence. Besides, yer father started this.”

  “He most certainly did not. Your brother killed my cousin.”

  “Billy was a clumsy fool and tripped over his own two feet, saving us the trouble of bashing his head in.”

  “Why you—”

  Waylon’s lips slid over her mouth, silencing the words that threatened to escape. She struggled but a moment. His lips, tongue, and devil hands clouded her mind. She groaned with want as her breast pushed against the palm of his hand, his thumb and forefinger capturing the tight burning peak. A tiny moan caught in her throat. His hand moved aside her torn garment trailing his burning touch between her legs. She whimpered into his mouth and damn him if she didn’t feel his lips curve. She didn’t care. She wanted him to touch her. Her thighs opened almost with their own volition and he stroked between her legs, probing the bud that throbbed with need. She clutched his shoulders as pleasure washed over her in waves.

  “Now we can make this easy, Catrione, or we can make it difficult. ’Tis totally up to ye, but mark my words, mi’lady, I will have an heir from ye.”

  “I hate you.” Though her words held no conviction, as he continued to entice her.

  “That is yer right, but ye can use your emotions when we couple. You will find passion, be it for love or hate it does no’ matter—passion adds spice.” He moved his hips against her as he whispered in her ear. “Do ye feel my need for ye?”

  She wiggled free from his caress and tried to slap him, but he caught her hand.

  His firm grip held her still as he bestowed gentle kisses at her wrist where her pulse beat erratically. How could she despise the man and want him all the same.

  “I will give you what you want, but you will never have my heart, Devil’s Wolf.”

  A low chuckled vibrated from his chest. “I doonae want yer heart, mi’lady, only a child and nothing more.”

  She nodded, though it bothered her more than she cared to admit. He'd been born a Maxwell and she hated him for the fact. So why should she care in the least if he should grow to love her? But she wanted love. Her father had promised she could marry for love, and now look what had happened? He might as well have arranged a marriage when he could have done so.

  * * * *

  Waylon couldn’t help but notice the flitter of emotions crossing her face, as if she were battling with her own demons. Maybe she was at that. He couldn’t be considered her idea of a husband, when she believed he would kill anyone who crossed his path. “What thoughts plague that pretty little head of yers?”

  She glanced at him, w
ith those turbulent green eyes. He hadn’t noticed before how they were framed with dark, thick lashes that were so long they curled back.

  “I was supposed to marry for love.” Her voice caught and she took a deep breath, obviously wishing she hadn’t revealed her secret. She tried to pull away once more, but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Love is for fools. Mi’lady, ye are too cunning for such a fantasy.”

  “And what did you expect from a marriage? This? Wed to a woman who hates you?”

  He smiled, his hand sliding down her back. “Nay. I had in my mind a subservient wife who would obey my every command.”

  “You speak of a slave then, or a simpleton.”

  “Perhaps simpleton would be better. The less speech the more time we could spend in bed.” He nibbled at her ear, knowing right where she liked to be kissed.

  “Surely you jest. I… Oh…” She lost her train of thought and leaned into his caress.

  “As ye were saying, milady.” He tried not to smile as he ruthlessly played havoc with her new found passion.

  She placed a hand firmly on his chest. “May we strike a deal?”

  His hand stopped its slow climb up her leg, and he looked at her with brows raised. “Ye are in no position to make deals.”

  “Just hear me out.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “My father forced your hand. I know this is why you made this rash mistake. Obviously I am not what you wanted, and you most assuredly are not what I would have chosen.”

  “Lass, stop yer flattery.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “My father—”

  “Is a fool,” he finished. “Women doonae choose their husbands.”

  “Usually they aren’t kidnapped and forced to marry either.”

  “I’m sorry for the harshness of it, but I saw no other choice.”

  She nodded. “Perhaps I’ll give you that. You feared for your brother’s life and with good cause. However, I would like to give my request.”

  “If ye’re determined, go on. Out with it then.”

  She met his gaze, held it so he wouldn’t turn away. “If I give you a child, you must set me free.”

  “We’re married in the church. Ye would damn our souls?”

  She lifted her chin ever so slightly. “I am not sure you even have a soul.”

  His low chuckled vibrated in his chest. “Ye may be right, but what of yers?”

  “Let me worry about my own salvation.”

  He remained silent as he thought over her request. She was indeed a comely wench, but he could find a more accommodating woman to warm his bed. He could see no reason why he wouldn’t be glad to let her go, but he wanted an heir and one that wouldn’t be poisoned by Johnstones wanting revenge. He posed a question for her. “And what of the child? I will want my son beside me.”

  “I would like the child with me until it is time to be fostered out.”

  Did her stipulations matter to him? Probably not. He had no need for a wife, just a child. He would have a better chance of reaching his goal if he didn’t have to fight an unwilling wife. “If I am to agree to this, ye will come willingly to our bed at anytime I choose.”

  “Only if you don’t…” She hesitated and worried her lower lip.

  He took her response as a no. “Ye do realize I doonae have to listen to any of this. Ye are my wife and I can take what is mine.”

  “Do you think I don’t know this?” She turned away from his hard stare.

  “Then what? Speak plainly then.”

  “I only ask that you don’t hurt me.”

  He raised his hand to her chin, moving her head, forcing her to face him. “It will never be like that first time. Dinnae ye know pleasure later?”

  “Aye, but…”

  “I willnae hurt ye. Do ye believe me?”

  “I...”

  “Look me in the eyes and know the truth.”

  She searched his gaze for a long moment before she nodded.

  “Let me hear ye say it then.”

  “You won’t hurt me.”

  “Good, we understand each other then. So do we have this deal, Catrione?”

  “I do believe we’ve come to an accord.”

  He curved his lips. “Stand.”

  “What?”

  “Stand.”

  She clutched her gown as she came to her feet.

  “Now, drop yer hands.”

  She hesitated.

  He lifted his brows in a challenge.

  She put her hands down letting the gown fall open exposing her breasts to his view. The dress beyond repair slid down to her rounded hips. A deep flush stained her cheeks and she dropped her gaze.

  “Take the rest off.”

  Her eyes flew to his in anger, humiliation there plain for him to see. “Devil’s Wolf, I will come willingly to your bed. I have said so, but please I am still your wife, not your whore. I expect you to treat me as such.” Her voice broke, but still she held his gaze.

  Without a word, he rose from his seat and came to her. He stood very close. His gaze traveling over her with a slow slide of his eyes, seeing her perhaps for the first time, and in truth, the lass took his breath away.

  He then leaned down cupping the back of her head as he kissed her, warm and soft, with gentleness that made her knees weak, but he held her tight. He would not let her fall.

  He kissed a trail down her neck, before he tore the rest of the gown from her body since it was ruined anyway. He lifted her up and brought her to the bed. He removed his clothing and fell beside her. He touched her, teased her, making her ready for him. She wanted to hate him, this he knew, but once he ignited the flame of passion in her, a silent truce was met and she ceased to fight him.

  As he moved in and out of her in a slow seductive dance, her trusting gaze never left his.

  “I forgot to ask mi’lady… what happens if ye fall in love with yer barbarian husband?"

  She didn’t answer at first, her hand moving along the flank of him, timidly running her fingers over the hard planes of his body. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned in pleasure, and his eyelids lowered on their own accord. Whether she knew it or not, she wielded power over him as well.

  “What if you fall in love with me, Devil’s Wolf?”

  His eyes flew open and he smiled. “It will never happen.”

  “Nor do I see me falling for you. My body may deceive me, but I know my own mind. I will not fall for the enemy.”

  He met her gaze with amusement and admiration. “We shall see. I’ll have ye know, I love a challenge, wife.” He thrust inside of her, making her gasp with surprise and pleasure.

  “You will not win.” She moved with him in perfect time until they tumbled over the edge of fulfillment.

  He moved to lie next to her. He breathed heavily, his body still rigid with need. He wondered how this small slip of a lass could affect him so.

  Her hand slid over his damp skin as she turned toward him. “Will you be leaving now?”

  He pulled her close and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, reveling in the feel and scent of her. “Nay. I believe I shall stay tonight.”

  * * * *

  While the Devil’s Wolf slept, Catrione took her fill of the man who was her husband. Scars longed healed marred the otherwise perfect torso of muscle-toned flesh. Her fingers lightly fingered the healing wound she had given him in their fight in the chapel. A fierce warrior, but gentle as well, knowing how to please a woman.

  She shook her head. She must continue to loathe him, but how could she when he showed her such magic. If only he would give her his heart as well, but he didn’t want love. He wanted revenge. He wanted sons. She would do well to remember she was only a vessel for his heir, and a pawn as well in his game to win back his brother. Once she was with child, he’d have no use for her. She frowned, not liking the notion one bit. She wouldn’t allow herself to have tender feelings toward her enemy. She pulled her hand away as if his fles
h burned her.

  She let out a cry of alarm when Waylon reached out and pulled her to him.

  “Why did ye shy away? I liked the feel of yer gentle hands.”

  “I...”

  He looked at her, his boyish gray-eyed gaze made her forget her pledge. She caressed his dark stubble chin. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  He chuckled. “Ye may wake me with yer caress anytime.”

  His hand covered her breast and her nipples hardened, sending a warm shiver down her spine. Why did her body continue to betray her against her will?

  “Who taught ye to wield a sword?”

  “What?” She shook her head, hoping to clear her thoughts and not concentrate on his hand making her skin tingle.

  “Ye are gifted with the sword. Who taught ye?”

  “My father.”

  “Hmm. Yer father has strange ways. He tutors his daughter, teaches her to fight like a warrior and promises she may marry for love.”

  “My father is a good man.”

  “Says ye, but he kidnapped my brother with an oath ensuring torture and death.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand the ways of men. The Maxwells and the Johnstones have been at each other’s throats for as long as I can remember. What you did, kidnapping me, will only intensify the feud. It troubles me to know the fighting will never end.”

  He sat up in bed, leaning on his elbow and forearm for support. “Both families are stubborn in their beliefs. Ye’d think we were highlanders.” He looked at her, his gaze sliding over her. “When we meet yer father to speak of our grievances, what will ye tell him of us?”

  “I will tell him the truth. You kidnapped me and forced me to marry you. I will not lie.”

  “And what if ye are with child? Will ye have yer husband executed before our son draws his first breath?”

  A day ago, she would have been pleased to have his head severed from his body, but now... He showed her such gentleness, such wonder she had thought not possible from such a fierce man. Even her priest thought him good. Didn’t he say all fared well? Waylon had shown mercy when he didn’t have to do so. Her husband proved to be a complicated man.

  “Catrione?”

  “I do not wish you dead.” There she had said it, but he wouldn’t let the matter go. He reached for her, lifting her chin so she looked at him. His thoughtful gaze probed her as he weighed her words and the truth behind them.