The Laird's Bastard Daughter (The Highland Warlord Series Book 1)

by Tessa Murran

  Cormac would avoid their bed for days then suddenly barge into their chamber late at night and climb into bed beside her. He did this too often for it to be some tiresome duty on his part, and she had begun to think that he may really desire her.

  Most nights, he would fall asleep beside her and then, when the fire had died down to its embers, she would wake and feel his hands on her, pulling her gently to him. She thought that Cormac took her in the darkness because he was ashamed of what he was doing.

  Now and then, he would come in as she got ready for bed, and take her with the bright light of candles and the fire licking over them. But he kept his face turned from her as if he felt shame. Ravenna tried not to think about how much she liked his touch.

  She did not understand any of it. She was a Gowan, his enemy and he had made it plain from the outset that she was beneath him. But the truth of it was, he could not seem to leave her alone and slowly, she had begun to admit to herself that she did not want him to.

  Tonight he had talked to her before they got into bed, complimenting her on her running of the castle, how improved were the kitchens, how clean and orderly his household had become under her command. He had been almost soft with her.

  Cormac groaned into her neck as his pleasure grew, holding her tight. It was always the same, he was gentle, he took his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her, he did not bruise her soft flesh or pull roughly at her, and he always smelled clean. In fact, he often smelt good and she would be stirred by the feel of his body pressing down on hers, the manly smell of his skin, the warmth of his hands. Something would uncoil in her and threaten to destroy her icy sufferance of his attentions. Though suffered was not the right word for what she felt.

  Ravenna admitted to herself that she was disappointed if he did not come to her, for although he seemed detached when he lay with her, at least it was some kind of human contact, some indifferent kind of affection. All her life she had been starved of that, and, apart from a friendship with Morna, with whom she had reconciled, Ravenna led a lonely life at Beharra.

  As the shadows danced over the ceiling, Ravenna felt herself being carried away by the feel of his hips grinding against hers with a shameful rhythm. He was slow and careful, and she held her breath each time he thrust into her because she knew how it would feel, and she was hungry for it. The feelings were too strong, and a little moan escaped her lips.

  Cormac stopped moving for a moment. Ravenna bit down hard on her lip so she would not cry out again. Maybe he would finish soon, so she would not betray herself. But he did not. Instead, he moved aside a little and slowly slid his hand downwards, between her legs. He began to touch her, smooth strokes of his fingertips, gently probing and spreading, as she tried not to acknowledge the sensations that came, like fire, licking at her, both pleasure and pain at once. She had touched herself like that in the darkness before, furtively and out of curiosity, as she grew from a girl to a woman, but it was different when it was a man’s hand doing it. She had no control over how he was making her feel, and he was arousing her.

  Ravenna looked up at Cormac’s face, trying to find answers there, but when their eyes met, he looked livid.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he growled, and so she turned her face away. Her body tensed, and he must have sensed it, for he abruptly rolled off her and left her lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She felt cold without the heat of his body and pulled a blanket over her.

  ‘You hate it, don’t you? You hate it when I lie with you,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘Cormac…I…’

  ‘Admit it, so we can be done with this. When I take my pleasure of you, you lie under me like a corpse and suffer it.’

  ‘Is that not a wife’s place?’

  ‘It is not how I would have it with us,’ he said, defeat and sadness in his words.

  They lay in silence for some moments until Ravenna risked speaking. ‘How would you have it, Cormac?’

  He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her face. ‘We did not want this union, either of us, and I know wedlock is often that way, done out of duty, not love, not even affection. But for me, there is no joy in lying with a woman who does not want my hands on her. It makes me feel like a low thing, like a beast.’

  ‘Oh, Cormac, it is I who feels like a beast. I feel I am a thing to be used whenever you like, just like your horse or your hunting dogs. Not a person with feelings, not flesh and blood. The marriage bed is slavery, I must do as I am told, I must submit, and if I show that I want you, if I enjoy it, you will call me a wanton or shameless.’

  He frowned. ‘Do you enjoy it?’

  Ravenna sat up, clutching the blanket around her nakedness. ‘Sometimes, I feel as though I could if you would be patient with me. I suppose you think me a strumpet now.’

  ‘You are not a strumpet for wanting to enjoy the act. God knows, there is strife enough in this world, surely there can be pleasure too, affection even?’

  ‘If you are asking me to care for you, Cormac, you are a fool, for I will never do it. I have too many reasons not to.’

  ‘That is what I like about you, Ravenna, your honesty. Look, I don’t want your love, and I don’t expect it. But I do want you, far more than I should.’

  Ravenna looked down, picking at the blanket, her cheeks afire. ‘What are we to do then?’

  ‘Tell me, do you think you could try to like it, lying with me.’

  ‘Perhaps, there is a feeling there sometimes, oh I don’t know.’

  ‘And before, with the other man who shared your bed?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Stop. Please.’

  ‘You belong to me now, so I need to know,’ said Cormac, his words suddenly dripping with jealousy and possessiveness. It was strange, for he had always seemed indifferent about the matter before.

  ‘Cormac, I was young, he was young, we didn’t know what we were doing, and it was only a few times.’

  ‘Did you care for him?’

  ‘Aye, I did, very much, but he is gone now so it is done with.’ Ravenna prayed she would not be forced to say more. ‘What about your wife, Cormac, what was it like between you?’

  He clenched his jaw, and his face turned to stone. ‘This is getting us nowhere. We should leave the past where it is, and look to the future. That is all that matters.’ He sat up against the headboard of the bed and stared at her, his naked chest rising and falling, mesmerising her. Then he reached out and pulled her against him. ‘Come here to me and let me be patient with you,’ he said, in a voice like a growl.

  Cormac’s fingers pushed into her hair as he breathed, ‘I find you beautiful Ravenna, but I don’t think you know it. Let me lie with you properly. Let me touch you so that there is pleasure for both of us in this.’

  She did not know what to say to that, so she just stared at him, at the scar on his face and the firelight dancing in his dark eyes. He was more man than she could handle, but what did she have to lose, apart from her pride. She didn’t have to like him or trust him to take pleasure from him, did she?

  Cormac was determined to make Ravenna want him. He saw her confusion as an opportunity to take hold of her and pull her over onto his lap. She put her hands on his chest and, after a moment’s hesitation, she began to stroke her fingers down it. He gasped at her touch and pulled her mouth down to his. Cormac took hold of Ravenna’s hair and held her to him, loving the slip and slide of it through his fingers, so soft, and her lips, so full and warm. He took hold of the back of her legs, spreading them wide, and pulled her against his manhood so that he could feel all of her pressed against him.

  ‘I can’t be like this,’ she said.

  ‘You can. Trust me Ravenna, for I would not hurt you and I like to look at you.’

  His hands found her breasts, fingers flicking over her nipples, causing her to arch her back and press down on him. He paid more attention to them after that, pulling her up so his mouth could find them, and all the time wanting to be inside her. As he licked and s
ucked, Ravenna threw back her head and gasped. His hands went around her back, and he pressed her hard against him, feeling her long hair fall softly against his shoulders and chest.

  She was wet for him, and so he slid into her. She stretched her arms out to grip the headboard, steadying herself as he pulled her down onto him again and again, first slowly, but as her moans filled the room, faster and more roughly. She felt glorious in his hands, the ripe curve of her bottom, the delicate feel of her hip bones under his thumbs where he held on to her tight. He felt her tighten and pulse around him as they pressed their bodies together. Ravenna grabbed hold of his hair, hard, and clutched his face into her chest, crying out. He knew then that she had found her release and it brought forth his own, violent and deep, as he breathed in the warm scent of her breasts.

  He looked up, smiling, but he could not see her face. Ravenna’s hair fell over her features, and he was not sure how she felt. But when he swept it back, she had an afterglow to her, cheeks pink, eyes bright, excited and almost triumphant. Cormac pulled her down onto the bed next to him and wrapped his leg over her and took her into his arms.

  ‘Was that so bad, Ravenna?’

  ‘No, I suppose not, surely you don’t have to ask.’

  ‘Women can pretend.’

  ‘I was not pretending,’ she sighed.

  Cormac wanted to wrap his arms around her and enjoy the sated feeling sweeping through him which was making his eyelids heavy, but Ravenna peeled herself away from him and shuffled over to the edge of the bed. She reached around for her kirtle then pulled it over her head, which was a shame because he was just marvelling at how perfect her body was and how well it fitted to his. She was not skinny like some women, she had full breasts, firm and high, and soft curving hips, not too wide and not too narrow.

  Tonight, she had let his hands roam over her with abandon, but she had not really touched him intimately. Not that it mattered, for he was wild with lust for her either way. Now she had her back to him, and she was all covered up.

  ‘Do you not want me to hold you awhile? Most women want that,’ he said.

  ‘I am tired, Cormac.’

  He frowned, feeling uneasy. ‘It’s not a defeat, you know, to enjoy it.’

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled. It was the first time she had ever done that in his presence. It made her face sweet and soft and oh so bonnie and, before he could take it in, she said, ‘if I lie too close to you, I may be tempted by your pretty face and ravish you again.’

  ‘I thought it was I who ravished you,’ he said frowning.

  She laughed. ‘Then you are a fool, Cormac Buchanan.’

  With that, she rolled back into bed, pulled up the blankets and presented him with her back, and he was left lying there, with absolutely no idea what she was thinking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ravenna was hard at work. Getting up at dawn and leaving Cormac sleeping beside her, she had headed to the outhouse to take her mind off last night’s events, and the way he had made her feel. It was as if her body had died and he’d brought it back to life. Oh, but she mustn’t weaken now. She must think on something else.

  She had little Donald, the smithy’s boy, as a helper. He was a filthy orphan, about nine years old, who had turned up at the gates some weeks ago begging and starving. Somehow he had wheedled his way into the smithy’s good graces so now he was now firmly ensconced at Beharra. But he was hopeless - lazy and rascally and easily bored. Ravenna suspected the smithy had offered Donald’s services just to get him out from under his feet. Being full of mischief, he had taken to playing a game with her of his own design. Every time she bent over the copper cauldron to stir the simmering malt, he would sneak up and tap her bottom and run away. His boldness made her laugh, for the first time in a long time, and so she let him have his game.

  Ravenna heard a soft step behind her. She raised her wooden paddle to give him a whack. ‘Donald, I swear, if you do it again, I will clout you round the head.’

  He giggled, and she ignored him and breathed in the rich smell from the mash of oats flavoured with honey and bog myrtle, which would eventually produce tasty ale. She’d already made a separate batch, weak and good for everyday drinking, and now she was preparing one where more yeast would be added, to make it stronger, and much more likely to addle the senses.

  There hadn’t been much joy in the convent, but the nuns knew how to make ale, and they liked it strong. It gave them the fortitude to undertake God’s work, or so the Abbess claimed. Ravenna had learnt the brewing secrets of the older nuns and loved to produce hearty ale, which was so much better than the poor slop she had endured since coming to Beharra.

  She heard a footstep behind her again and readied the paddle. Next thing she knew, a hand cupped her buttock and squeezed. Well, Donald had definitely gone too far this time. She would give him the slap of his life for such impertinence. She whirled around, paddle raised, only to see Cormac standing behind her, and Donald beside him, smirking.

  ‘Don’t beat me Ravenna, he made me do it,’ said Cormac, with a look which challenged her to do just that. Donald snickered. When Ravenna continued to glare at them, Cormac turned to the boy. ‘Off with you now, I must speak to the mistress.’

  Donald scuttled off to find someone else to torment.

  ‘I did not have you as an alewife, Ravenna. So this is what you do in my absence?

  ‘Beharra’s ale was terrible, I have put it right.’

  ‘Aye, the taste of it is much improved. You have my thanks.’

  What was this, could he actually be acknowledging a quality in her? Gratitude was a strange thing coming from Cormac.

  He peered into the cauldron, breathing in the scent of the malt. ‘Where did you learn such a skill?’

  ‘In a convent.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing there?’

  ‘My father buried me there, for three years?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So he could forget all about me, and to cleanse me of my sins.’

  Cormac raised an eyebrow, obviously not satisfied with that. ‘And?’

  ‘Because I had offended him, to the point where a harsh punishment was called for.’

  ‘What did you do, Ravenna?’ He narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Nothing you would care to hear about.’

  He took a step closer to her, and she wanted to step back, but she held her ground.

  ‘My father says there is nothing more dangerous in this world as a strong-willed woman with secrets to guard. You may keep yours, Ravenna, and I will keep mine.’ His dark eyes searched for something in hers.

  He smiled, and Ravenna was stunned at how fine he looked.

  ‘It’s hard to imagine you in a convent, Ravenna. Did they try to beat piety and obedience into you.’

  ‘They tried.’

  ‘Well, it’s in my favour that you are neither.’ He winked at her, which took her completely off guard. Her face grew hot, and she tore her gaze from his. Thoughts of his hands all over her flooded her mind, along with the shame of how he had made her feel, and that small surrender she had given him.

  Cormac came up to her and took her hand. It seemed he was not done with torturing her. His voice was teasing as he said, ‘Seems that somewhere along the way the nuns taught you how to please a man, Ravenna.’ Her loins quickened, and her knees went weak. ‘Or perhaps you have a natural talent for it.’

  She froze. Her father had once said those exact same words to her when setting her to spy on Cormac. And she had done just that, last night, used her looks and her feminine wiles on this man, to feign intimacy with him. But she hadn’t really been pretending, had she? Ravenna suddenly felt a chill deep inside her.

  ‘You are quiet. Have I said something wrong, Ravenna?’

  ‘Cormac, I learnt many things in the convent, some good, some bad, but how to please a man was not one of them, for it does not serve me to do that.’

  ‘And what does serve you, Ravenna?’ What about taking pleas
ure from a man? Surely you won’t deny yourself.

  ‘I never deny myself anything I want, Cormac.’

  ‘Nor do I, and I think a part of you likes the feel of me.’ Cormac took hold of her face in his rough hands and brought his mouth to hers. The slow slide of his lips felt warm and safe. When his tongue gently invaded her mouth, she wanted him again. His fingers slid into her hair as he became more passionate, and she felt that any moment he might throw her down and take her, and part of her desperately wanted him to.

  They were interrupted by the rascally Donald, coughing behind them.

  ‘This better be good, boy or your arse will be on fire for days,’ snarled Cormac.

  ‘Laird, a messenger has come in great haste on the command of the King. He waits in the hall at your pleasure.’

  Cormac gave her a lingering kiss and breathed into her hair. ‘It seems we are alike, you and I, we have the same appetites. Time to stop fighting it, Ravenna, because, you know, I always get my way in the end.’

  When he left, in search of the messenger, Ravenna bent back to her task of stirring the malt with trembling legs and shaking hands and a wanton feeling in her belly. Half of her hoped Cormac would come back and put it to rest, as soon as may be. Half of her knew that to feel anything for that fearsome man was to damn herself.

  A short time later, Cormac returned with a troubled look on his face.

  ‘I am leaving at once, at the behest of the King. Lyall is coming with me, and my father and Ramsay will stay, to take care of you and oversee Beharra. I must go immediately and gather men and arms, make preparations.

  ‘Arms? I hope you are not putting yourself in danger.’ She gave him a weak smile, looking up at him from under her lashes, as she had seen other women do.

  ‘We are to besiege Roxburgh Castle. Its Laird dares to give sanctuary to an English garrison.’

  ‘I’m sure the English gave him little choice in the matter.’