by B. J. Scott
“Do you need to stop and rest, m’lady?” The head guard rode up beside her. “We still have a ways to go and need to keep up the pace if we hope to reach the castle by nightfall. If na, we’ll have to make camp and finish the journey in the morn.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. She’d give anything to stop and stretch her legs, not to mention relieve herself, but feared what might happen if she did. One on one she might stand a chance, but against four burly warriors she knew the odds were heavily against her. “How much farther is it?”
“Two hours, mayhap three. The laird will have a meal waiting and a comfortable bed.”
“That’s what I fear,” she mumbled beneath her breath, a shiver skittering up her spine at the thought of the laird waiting for her to join him in bed. “I’m not acquainted with Laird Gower. Has he been married before?”
“You willna be his first bride. I believe you will be his fourth.” the guard said.
She swallowed hard. “Four wives?”
“Aye. There have been three marriages, and one betrothal that ended a few days afore the wedding.” The guard lowered his gaze. “I shouldna say this, but Laird Gower has na had the best of luck with his lady wives. All who made it before the priest, died not long after the nuptials. I’d tread lightly if I were you, Lady Gweneth. Do not anger him, if you know what is good for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gwen squared her shoulders and nibbled on her bottom lip. If she thought she could spur her mount and get away, she’d try, but she had no doubt they’d be on her before she got far. Her only chance was to be sweet and complacent, and hope the laird would honor her wishes to wait until their wedding night, one she prayed never took place. Rather than continue the conversation with the guard about Laird Gower, she dug her heels into the horse’s sides and the beast lunged forward.
The guard raced after her, quickly caught up, and reached over and grabbed the reins of Gwen’s horse, slowing her mount to a trot. “Easy, lass. I dinna want to explain to the laird that his betrothed fell and broke her neck afore she arrived at the castle.”
Gwen yanked her reins free of his grasp. “I have been riding since I was five and know how to handle a horse. You said we needed to hurry if we wanted to arrive before nightfall, did you not?”
He bobbed his head. “Aye, but—”
She held up her hand. “Then we’d best not waste any more time.” She squeezed the horse’s sides, urging him forward—the guard keeping up with her mount stride for stride.
Exhausted and finding it hard to keep her eyes open, Gwen brought her hand to her mouth and stifled a yawn. The sun had set over an hour ago and the only thing lighting their way was the full moon. She draped her arisaidh over her head, then tucked the loose edges under her chin, hoping to block the chilly night air. “Think warm thoughts,” she mumbled aloud, but the wool garment provided little protection against the brisk autumn wind. She shivered and her teeth began to chatter. If they didn’t arrive soon, she wasn’t certain how much longer she could remain atop the horse, so when the castle came into view, perched on a rocky cliff in the distance, relief washed over her.
“Gower Castle,” the guard said, then pointed in the direction of the structure. “I can smell the cook fires from here and am sure there will be a warm meal waiting.”
His words were bittersweet to her ears. Part of her was thrilled to know she’d be somewhere warm and off the horse, but part of her dreaded meeting Laird Gower. Stealing herself against the inevitable, she nudged her mount forward, soon arriving at the curtain wall.
Iron groaned and chains rattled as the portcullis inched skyward, granting them entry to the bailey, where several heavily armed warriors greeted them.
“The laird has been awaiting your arrival,” one of the warriors said. “You’ll find him in the great hall with his brother.” He bowed before Gwen. “Welcome, m’lady.”
Gwen nodded politely and forced a smile, but didn’t answer him. It was hard enough to remain calm and collected while facing her fears head on, so making small-talk with this man was not something she could handle at the moment.
Upon arriving at the Castle steps, the head of the guards slid from the saddle and handed his horse over to a young lad, who Gwen guessed to be around ten-years-old. The boy led the mount away and was soon replaced by three other boys around the same age.
Wasting no time, the guard rounded her horse and plucked Gwen from the saddle—her knees buckling the minute her feet hit the ground. She clung to his tunic for support, waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs. “Forgive me, my legs are numb, but I should be better in a minute.”
“It is na surprising, given how long we have been riding. Take your time, m’lady, and dinna try to walk until you are ready. I dinna mind.” He curled his arm around her waist and tugged her against his side, but when he slid his hand lower and cupped her bottom, she immediately shoved him away.
While still unsteady on her feet, it was amazing how much stronger she felt once he made the inappropriate advance. “I’m much better and can walk on my own,” she said curtly, then took a wobbly step, followed by another. As her legs grew stronger, she moved more quickly, putting as much distance between herself and the guard as she could. She stumbled up the steps of the keep, and paused when she reached the large oak door, knowing her betrothed waited on the other side, and her life was about to take a drastic turn for the worse. It was too late to change her mind or to run, so she inhaled deeply, then slowly let the air escape from her lungs, raised her chin and shoved the door open.
Gwen was so busy dodging the guard’s flirtation, she didn’t notice the other men who had accompanied them from MacQuin castle had already gone inside ahead of them, so it took her by surprise when she was met by three maids, each tugging her in different directions.
“Och, you must clean yourself up and get to the great hall immediately. The laird is waiting for you,” the oldest of the three woman said as she grabbed Gwen’s arm and tugged.
“Nay, she doesna have time to wash up,” a young woman with red hair exclaimed, then yanked on her other arm.
The third woman, who Gwen guessed was in her early thirties, stood back with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her toe on the plank floor. “You’ll rip the lass in two if you’re na careful. Give her some space and let her breathe.”
“But the laird said—” the oldest maid started, but stopped, then quickly bowed her head.
“The laird is tired of waiting and wishes to meet his betrothed,” a voice bellowed down the hall, completing the old woman’s sentence.
Gwen swallowed against the lump in her throat, and slowly turned to face a man who had to be older than her father. A tall, imposing looking fellow, with harsh angular features, an aquiline nose, large ears, and a menacing expression. The veins in his neck bulged and his cheeks flushed red as he stomped down the hall toward them.
The three maids dropped to a low curtsy, their eyes trailing the floor as their master passed.
“Lady Gweneth, I take it?” he snarled, his lips curled in disgust as he looked her up and down without saying another word.
Unable to bear the uncomfortable scrutiny and longer, Gwen stiffened her spine and glared at the man. “I’m not accustomed to being examined like a prize mare, sir. If you’re displeased, I will gladly return to MacQuin Castle.”
“Silence!” He raised his fist as he prepared to strike, but the maid who’d asked the others to give Gwen space, stepped forward.
“Please, m’lord, she has been on a long journey, is tired and no doubt hungry. Dinna hold her outburst against her. I’m sure she meant no harm.”
Gwen wanted to speak up on her own behalf, and tell the maid she meant what she said and not to interfere, but changed her mind when the laird lowered his arm. Gwen reminded herself that this was not a courtroom or the twenty-first century, so she needed to learn to think first and then react accordingly.
“Clean her up and bring her to the great hal
l. She’s filthy and smells of horse.” He spun around and stormed down the hall.”
Chapter Twelve
After being shown to a chamber on the second floor of the keep, and informed that her room was adjacent to the laird’s solar, Gwen was given a basin of water so she could wash up, a clean gown, and a comb for her hair. The knowledge that the laird would be in the next room and could enter her chamber without an invitation at any time—day or night—caused her stomach to knot with dread.
“What’s your name?” Gwen asked the maid, trying to get her mind on something other than a potential rape by her future husband. The woman had been kind to her, and even risked punishment by intervening on her behalf with the laird.
“My name is Enid,” the maid replied. “Is there anything else you need, m’lady?”
Gwen shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you for speaking up on my behalf with the laird.”
“You are most welcome, but I suggest you freshen up and make haste. The laird doesna like to be kept waiting. Especially when he has requested your presence.”
“You mean demanded my presence,” Gwen countered, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Does everyone around here jump when he speaks? I thought his brother was laird of this castle.”
The maid unlaced the back of Gwen’s gown, then took a step back. “Aye, Lord Collin is laird here, but Lord Duncan is the eldest brother, and all the more reason you need to hurry. They are like two peas, and neither likes to be disobeyed. If you wish I can escort you to the hall once you’ve had a chance to change and wash.”
“No thanks. I’ll find it myself. And if you don’t mind, I’d like a few moments to myself.”
“As you wish. Summon me when you require my assistance, m’lady. I will be serving as your lady’s maid from now on.”
“What about when we go to the Orkneys.” Just saying it sent a shiver up her spine.
“I’ve been told I will accompany you.”
“I’d like that, and will let you know if I need your assistance.” After waiting for the Enid to leave, Gwen quickly barred the door leading into the hallway, and did the same with the one between her chamber and the laird’s. Not that it would stop him if he set his mind to ravaging her.
She chastised herself for agreeing to come to Gower Castle in the first place, but quickly recalled the menacing look on Damen’s face when he threatened to harm Lilith if she refused to go with the escort sent by Laird Gower. The evil bastard left her no choice but to comply, or have the woman who claimed to be her mother’s death on her conscience. She prayed Lilith could find Beatha and learn how to send the changeling back to the netherworld and help her to return to the future—and Kyle.
The more she thought about her plight, the more determined she became to avoid Laird Gower. She’d agreed to come here for Lilith’s sake, but that didn’t mean she had to subject herself to his company any more than necessary. Tomorrow was soon enough. She’d endured an arduous journey over rocky terrain to meet a tyrant she despised from the moment she laid eyes on him. She was exhausted and had aches in places she didn’t know existed. Despite the hunger gnawing at the pit of her stomach, she had never been one to take orders, so decided to go to bed, rather than the hall as he commanded.
Gwen wished she had a tub of hot water so she could soak her weary bones, but the wooden basin left by the maid would have to do for now. After taking off her filthy gown, she tossed it on a chair near the door. She washed the grime from her face and hands, then searched for the clothing Lilith had packed for her to bring along. When she found the canvas sack on the floor at the foot of the bed, she rooted through it until she found the nightgown. She slipped the muslin garment over her head, the cool crisp fabric feeling good against her skin.
Her eyes heavy and her head aching, she climbed beneath the pelts. The laird would not be pleased when she didn’t show up in the hall, but she was too tired to think about that now. Hopefully he’d consume enough sprits during the meal that he’d not bother to come looking for her. She rolled onto her side and drifted off.
~ * ~
Content and fully sated, her body still alive with the hum of making love until the wee hours of the morning, Gwen languorously stretched, then propped herself up on one elbow. Her gaze locked on the magnificent man standing by the window. Not only was Kyle MacKay a brilliant doctor—kind, generous, and devastatingly handsome—he was a caring and tender lover, always making sure she reached orgasm more than once, before he sought his own.
As she watched him in silence, admiring the sculpted contours of his broad shoulders, honed muscles rippling across his back, his narrow waist, and firm buttocks, her stomach fluttered with desire. She smiled, remembering the night of unbridled passion they’d just shared, yet she couldn’t get enough of him.
They had a fantastic relationship, based not only on physical attraction, but on friendship and mutual respect. There wasn’t a single thing about him she didn’t adore, and while she knew most women dreamed of finding and settling down with a wonderful man like Kyle, she saw no reason to change something that was already working for them. But every time they made love and she lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, it was harder and harder to say no to his proposals.
“You’re awake, sweetheart. After last night, I figured you’d sleep till noon.” Kyle stood by the bed and flashed her a smile that melted her heart. He reached out and gently swept a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “A penny for your thoughts.”
She grinned up at him, her pulse racing. “You are in my thoughts, and worth a hell of a lot more than a penny,” she said, then lay back on the bed, her head resting on the pillow.
“All good thoughts I hope.” He crawled into bed beside her, quickly enveloped her in his arms, then buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Mmmm, you smell good enough to eat, and I’m starving.” He nipped at her earlobe.
“You’re insatiable,” she replied, and playfully thumped his shoulder with her fist. “I believe if you had your way, we’d never get out of bed, not even to eat.” She snuggled against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining.”
In one swift move, he rolled her beneath him and covered her mouth with a kiss that stormed her senses and caused her to curl her toes into the mattress. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m glad, because I plan to ravage you again.”
“I’d like that,” she cooed, closed her eyes and inhaled his intoxicating scent, savored the way her skin tingled in response to his moist breath against her heated flesh, and the gentleness of his touch as he lightly stroked the swell of her breasts, before taking a nipple into his mouth.
Lost in a euphoric fog and craving more, she moaned softly and arched her back as he eagerly suckled and nibbled while he gently kneaded and palmed her other breast. Moist heat pooled between her thighs and she spread her legs, granting him access to her most intimate place.
Kyle dipped his finger between feminine folds that were now slick and wet with need, then encircled her bud of arousal. He repeated the action over and over, alternated the tempo from fast to slow until she saw stars, lost control, and shattered into a million pieces.
Without saying a word, he tucked her beneath him and entered her in one quick thrust, waited a moment for her body to close around his shaft, then began to pump his hips until he reached the peak of arousal and plummeted over the edge, taking her with him in another orgasm that left her breathless and panting for air.
“That was amazing,” she gasped. “I love you, Kyle.”
~ * ~
A loud pounding on the door caused Gwen to sit up with a start. She immediately reached for Kyle, but the bed beside her was empty. She frantically searched the room, but quickly realized she was very much alone and must have been dreaming.
“Open the door, woman, or I will break it down!”
Gwen immediately recognized the laird’s voice, his words slurred by what she suspe
cted was too much spirits. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, hoping if she remained quiet, he might go away. But she doubted she’d be that lucky.
“I said open the door!” The laird pounded louder than he had the first time. “Make me enter by force and you will live to regret it.”
There was no way he was leaving and Gwen knew it. If she continued the standoff, she might buy herself a few minutes, but the end result could be far worse if he did in fact break down the door. There was no doubt in her mind he was capable of the feat. For a man of his age, he appeared to be quite fit and could likely do a fair bit of damage when riled. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she slid from the bed and padded to the door, but didn’t open it.
“I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t think it wise to go to the hall, for fear I might faint,” she lied, hoping he might take pity on her and calm down.
He pounded again. “Open the door if you know what is good for you, lass. No one locks me out of a room. Especially my wife.”
She opened the door a crack. “I am not your wife,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice from wobbling. “And am not trying to show you any disrespect,” she quickly added. “I needed some rest after an arduous journey, and fourteen hours in the saddle. I was sure you’d understand.”
Laird Gower shoved open the door, nearly knocking Gwen off her feet. “I understand naught,” he bellowed. He immediately grabbed her by the arm with bruising force. After giving her a rough shake, he glared down at her, his nostrils flared and the veins in his forehead throbbing. “Insolent bitch. When I summon you, I expect you to come. When I tell you to spread your legs for me, you’ll do it.” He threw her on the bed, then hovered over her with his fists clenched.