Tamed by a Laird

by Amanda Scott

  With his free hand, he cupped her chin and tilted it up so he could claim her soft lips. Tasting them lightly, he pressed harder on her bottom, forcing her hips against his so she would feel what awaited her there.

  When she moaned, he moved his hand from her chin to cup the back of her head, kissing her more hungrily, sucking and tasting her lips, then parting them easily with his tongue and thrusting inside to explore the interior of her mouth.

  He paid no heed to her hands until they slipped around to the small of his back and her right one dipped lower to squeeze his left buttock. Then, groaning, he ground himself hard against her, aching so much for her that he could not think.

  Awed by the sensations that swept through her when he touched her breasts and squeezed her buttock, Jenny had shut her eyes, put her hands to his bare waist, and then daringly squeezed his backside.

  She had hoped to make him moan a little as she had.

  She had not expected him to react with such strength. Seconds later, when he swept her off her feet and headed for the bed, her breath caught in her throat again.

  Laying her down, he wasted no time in removing the rest of her clothing. Nor did he waste time with his own or ask for her help. She was not sure if what she had done was a good thing or a bad thing, but she did not care.

  She was far more interested in what he would do next.

  He did take a moment to straighten the covers before he climbed in with her, but he did not lie back and hold her as he had before. Instead, he leaned over her on one elbow, capturing her mouth again and stroking her breasts with his free hand, teasing her nipples and stroking lower until his hand cupped her at the fork of her legs. Leaning closer then, as if he thought he might have to hold her in place, he pressed a finger inside her, stroking her as he did, nearly to her undoing.

  She arched hard against him, gasped, and cried out.

  When she could speak, she gasped, “What… what are you doing?”

  Close to her ear, he murmured soothingly, “I have not much control left, Jenny-love, and I wanted to make you ready for me. But you are hot and ready now, I think. I’d just like to stretch you a little.”

  To her own surprise, she chuckled low in her throat. “Good sakes,” she said. “I thought you were examining me.”

  “I am, but only because I mean to examine every inch of you. You’re a beautiful woman, lass. Touching you is like stroking fine, warm silk.”

  She wanted to tell him all she was feeling, but she could not find the words. She could only let her body tell him with its movements and moans how much she enjoyed what he was doing to her.

  When he shifted his weight, she knew what was coming and welcomed it. He had teased her to a hunger she had never known, one that only satisfaction could fulfill. When he pressed himself inside her, gently at first and then harder, hurting her and stirring an ache she was sure she would never forget, she moaned louder and pressed closer to him, hoping to ease the aching.

  He thrust harder then and faster until at last he must have worn himself out, because he collapsed atop her, panting, and stayed so until his breathing eased.

  Then he raised himself up on his elbows and smiled ruefully at her.

  “I enjoyed that, lass. I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.”

  “Nay,” she said, deciding it was not too much and if she told him it hurt, he might not want to do it again. She would endure it whenever he liked as long as he could reproduce the other, much more wonderful feelings he had stirred first.

  Hugh woke early at the sound of the latch. Seeing Lucas, he put a finger to his lips, waited until the man had nodded, set down the lighted cresset he held, and vanished. Then Hugh gently tried to wake Jenny, who was sprawled on her stomach between him and the wall.

  She did not stir.

  Sometime during the night, she had thrust a knee into his ribs, where he was sure he would have a bruise, but she had not stirred then even when he shifted her knee to a safer position and snuggled her closer to him.

  They definitely needed a bigger bed.

  Picking up a strand of her hair, he tickled her nose with its ends. Her nose twitched, but she did not waken. Delighting in the faces she made, he did it again.

  “Stop that,” she muttered.

  He did it again, and at last, she opened her eyes. They widened, and he knew she had only then remembered where she was and how she had come to be there.

  “Good morning,” he said, bending to kiss her nose.

  She turned onto her back, stretching from head to toe like a kitten as she did. When she smiled at him, her dimples danced and he kissed them, too. Then he found her mouth, and for a time after that, he forgot they had a boat to catch.

  When he had sated his hunger for her, he remembered the boat and said, “Get up now, lass, and quickly. You’ve caused me to waste too much time as it is. Make haste, or that boat will leave without us.”

  “But I’m not the one who—”

  “Aye, well, you’re too bonnie and you tempt me too sorely. Now, up! I’m going to shout for Lucas and you will want to be dressed before he comes in.”

  “You made me feel wonderful,” she said, languorously stretching again. “It scarcely hurt at all this time.”

  “I thought you said it didn’t hurt last night,” he said, pulling on his breeks.

  “Aye, well, it did,” she said. “But not today.”

  She got up then and moved past him, bending to pick her shift up off the floor. As she did, he smacked her on her bare backside.

  “Ow!” she exclaimed, rubbing the place. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because you lied to me,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”

  “Do I get to smack you if you lie to me?”

  “Aye, you may,” he said. “Now get dressed.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him and then moved hastily to obey.

  Hugh shook his head at her but could not suppress a smile.

  The sky was still a blanket of stars when the galley’s crew rowed from Annan’s port with the outgoing tide into Solway Firth. There they shipped their oars and put up the sail. The galley made good speed sailing with the tide as it ebbed from the Firth toward the Irish Sea.

  Jenny had never been on a boat of any size before, or on water in the dark, and she reveled in the experience. She loved the taste and smell of the salty air, and the sight of gulls dipping and whirling in search of fish as soon as it was light.

  When the sun peeked over the eastern horizon revealing a cloudless sky, Hugh declared that he wanted to stretch his legs and talk to the captain about what to expect when they reached Kirkcudbright.

  “You stay here with Lucas, lass,” he said. “I shan’t be long.”

  The bench near the stern was hard, but Jenny was glad to sit with Lucas.

  “Thank you for seeing to my baggage this morning,” she said.

  “ ’Twas nowt, m’lady,” he said.

  “Well, it is not nowt to me,” she said. “Had you not brought me my cloak before we left, I doubt I’d have thought about it until we reached the forecourt.”

  He shot her a twinkling look from under his eyebrows. “Happen ye had other matters on your mind, mistress. Times, t’ laird do be a handful.”

  She chuckled, remembering the smack on her backside and wondering if Lucas might have been outside the door by then. She had certainly yelped.

  “You have been with the laird a long time, I expect.”

  “Aye, nigh onto eight years now.”

  “Only eight? I thought you must have been with him since he was a boy.”

  “Nay, then, no so long as that.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  He glanced toward the sea. Then, licking his lips, he looked at her and said, “I dinna talk about it much, but bein’ as ye’re one of t’ family now, I expect he’ll tell ye ’imself—although I dinna doubt he’ll tell his tale and leave out t’ best bits.”

  “Sakes, do you mean he might lie to me?” she a
sked hopefully, recalling that smack yet again, and his promise afterward.

  “Nay, then, not to say lie,” Lucas said. “He’d just clean it up, like.”

  “Tell me your tale then.”

  “Aye, well, we met in Yorkshire—in t’ city of York, that was.”

  “But Yorkshire is in England. What were you both doing there?”

  “Me? I were born there. T’ laird were just a-visitin’, as ye might say.”

  Enviously, she said, “I expect he has traveled many places, has he not?”

  “Aye, so have we both,” Lucas said. “Even into France once.”

  “Was he serving Archie the Grim then?”

  “Happen ye might say he were, in a way.”

  “Sakes, was he spying on the English and the French?”

  “Nah then, not if ye mean were ’e listenin’ at doors and such,” Lucas said with a hasty glance in the direction Hugh had taken. Relaxing again, he added, “He were just a-jawin’ wi’ folks about summat and nowt, like.”

  “As ye might say,” Jenny said with a grin.

  The twinkle glinted again in his eyes. “Aye, and what ’e learned in t’ city of York, amongst other bits, were that they was a-meanin’ to hang me.”

  “Who was?”

  “Sithee, ’twas t’ York magistrate, withal.”

  “So what did Sir Hugh do?”

  “They’d built t’ gallows in Whip-ma-Whop-ma Gate, which is how they call t’ street with t’ whipping post and such. And he were a-singin’ to t’ crowd gathered there, playin’ troubadour as he did wi’ ye. They was a-leadin’ me to t’ rope when up ’e strolled with ’is lute and said ’e wanted a good look at such a gallous ruffian.”

  She chuckled. “I can imagine it. Doubtless, he used someone else’s voice.”

  “Aye, sure. Then, as t’ crowd jeered some clumsy jugglers on their boards near t’ gallows, he fetched one of me keepers a clout with ’is fist, made t’other one’s brains rattle with t’ first one’s club, and never took even a scratch on ’is lute. Next thing I knew, ’e cut me bindings with a wee dirk from ’is boot and were a-runnin’ me through snickets and ginnels of which even I ’ad nae ken, though I’d grown up there. Afore I could catch me breath, we was horsed outside t’ wall farthest from Whip-ma-Whop-ma Gate and a-ridin’ for t’ coast.”

  Fascinated, she said, “What are snickets and ginnels?”

  “Passageways,” he said. “Sithee, t’ streets in York be called gates, and they be narrow and crowded, so t’ local folk ’ave their own ways between ’em of which visitors ’ave nae ken. Ye open a wee door, and a snicket or ginnel wends between garden walls or buildings to t’ next gate. Them what was a-seekin’ me didna ken where we’d gone. They sent word to the city gates, which they call bars, but we’d changed our look by then and walked out with a flock of shepherds what had drove their sheep to fleshers in t’ Shambles.”

  “Shambles?”

  “Aye, fleshers’ row, as ye might say, where they butcher kine and the like.”

  Jenny sighed again. Crossing her arms over her breasts and leaning back against the gunwale, she said, “Men always get to do the best sort of traveling and have all the most exciting adventures.”

  “Sakes, mistress, ye could’ve ’ad my part of that adventure and a sight more for the askin’! I didna ken t’ laird then, but I knew I owed ’im me life.”

  “Why were they going to hang you, Lucas? And why did he save you?”

  “T’ hangin’ were over one wee sheep, as ye—” Catching her eye, he grinned and went on. “The savin’ were because he thought I might ken summat useful to ’im or to Sir Archibald Douglas.”

  “And did you?”

  “Summat or nowt, I canna say, for I dinna ken. He asked me all manner of questions though, and I’ve served ’im ever since. He’s got me into some proper scrapes, I can tell ye, but so far, bless ’im, he’s always hauled me out of them, too.”

  “And, to think, he looked so stern and upright when I first saw him.”

  “Aye, sure, that’d be t’ laird. He could stare t’ devil out of ’ell without breakin’ a sweat, as ye m—” Breaking off, he added with a chuckle, “Ye’ll do, mistress, ye’ll do. Happen ye’ll be the perfect match for ’im.”

  Hugh, walking toward them, saw Jenny eyeing him askance and wondered what he had done to annoy her. When he asked her, she just shook her head, but Lucas was smiling.

  He shot a shrewd look at his man. “Have you been telling tales, Lucas?”

  “By, sir, she asked how we met. I couldna tell her we never did, could I?”

  “Don’t listen to him, lass. He’s got a keen imagination, does Lucas.”

  She gave him a straight look and said, “Do you mean to say I should not believe what he tells me, sir? Is Lucas not trustworthy?”

  “I did not say that,” Hugh said. Then, “Why do you look so disappointed?”

  Her smile was a teasing mixture of mystery and mischief that made him wish he could pick her up and take her straight to bed. As the thought crossed his mind, he remembered their exchange in his bedchamber when he had given her permission to smack him if he ever lied to her.

  He returned her smile then but said only, “If you get sleepy, lassie, tell me. The captain said he has blankets and pillows if you want them.”

  “Nay, I don’t want to miss any of this,” she said, indicating the Firth and its forbidding shoreline in one sweeping gesture. I’m glad the day is clear. Is that a castle in the distance ahead of us?”

  “Aye, Caerlaverock, or what’s left of it. It belongs to the Maxwells, and they did the damage themselves to keep the English from occupying it again. Lord Maxwell wants to rebuild it, but he’ll get little help whilst we still have English occupying Lochmaben.”

  She asked many more questions, clearly enjoying the journey. She did not seem to mind a bit when he served her a meager dinner of rolls, beef, apples, and ale from a basket that Lucas had ordered packed before they left Annan House.

  When the oarsmen finally rowed them into Kirkcud-bright Bay on the turning tide, she seemed fascinated by everything she saw, eyeing the high cliffs to the west and east, and listening intently to all he could tell her about the place.

  When their boat dropped anchor in what seemed to be the middle of the bay, the captain made his way back to Hugh, saying, “The tide has turned, sir. So we’ll bide here an hour or so until the water is high enough to let us clear the sand bar west of St. Mary’s Isle in the river channel. Beyond that bar, a vessel our size has draft shallow enough to go upriver for miles.”

  “You will dock at Kirkcudbright, will you not?”

  “Aye, we’ll beach her on the sand. They’ve a fine shelf beach for our boat.”

  When he left them, Hugh explained to Jenny that St. Mary’s Isle was the narrow, densely wooded peninsula jutting into the bay just ahead of them.

  “It looks as if it sits in a sea of sand and mud,” she said.

  “Aye, the tides leave it so when they run out, but the incoming tide will soon surround it with water. It will rise to cover most of yonder cliffs as well,” he said.

  “Where is the town?”

  “Ahead about four miles,” he said. “You’ll see the kirk tower first, and other towers to the left of it. Those belong to Castle Mains, where I hope to find Archie.”

  “I thought we’d find him at Threave.”

  “We may yet, but if we’re lucky, we’ll find him here. Castle Mains has been the seat of the Lords of Galloway for a century or two, and ’tis where Archie stays when he is here. Threave is eight or ten miles up the river Dee from here. We’ll borrow horses at Castle Mains if we have to go on.”

  “I want to go to Threave, sir,” Jenny said. “I want to know what happens.”

  “We’ll see,” he said. But he hoped to keep his word to warn Archie and be on his way again. They would soon be harvesting the early crops at Thornhill, and although his steward was competent, Hugh wanted to show Jenny his home.
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  Jenny was annoyed to know that Threave was still a considerable distance away and that they might find Douglas in Kirkcudbright. Not only did she want to see the castle that Archie the Grim had built as a symbol of Douglas power but she also wanted to see Gilly, Gawkus, Peg, Cath, and the others.

  She was less eager to see the Joculator, because he would doubtless learn that she had deceived him more than he knew. But, having survived the confrontation at Annan House, which she had dreaded more, she felt less anxiety about telling the Joculator the truth about herself. And she did want to thank him again for accepting her into his company when he had thought she was just a kinswoman of Peg’s.

  She hoped to watch the oarsmen row their galley onto the beach as the captain had said they would, but they arrived first at Castle Mains. Located on a promontory that jutted into the river just ahead of them, it clearly guarded the inner harbor, the town of Kirkcudbright, and the navigable portion of the river beyond it.

  The massive stronghold stood right at the river’s edge, so its stone walls, ominous and battlemented, loomed high above the galley. Not until they rounded the promontory did Jenny see the tall gatehouse, flanked by two buttressed towers.

  When the galley, oars up, docked neatly alongside a long wharf that led to the gate, Hugh helped her disembark. Then he helped Lucas with their baggage, while she watched a party of armed men stride toward them from the gates.

  Hugh put a hand on her shoulder a few moments later, startling her, but his touch had the same effect it always did, sensuous and invigorating, as if he filled her from within, lending her strength and confidence.

  His left arm slid around her shoulders as he extended his right to the leader of the approaching men. “Well met, Tam Inglis!” he said. “I trow you’ll let us in.”

  “Aye, sure, my lord, and glad we be to see ye.” He glanced curiously at Jenny and then peered at Lucas. “Be that yon dafty Lucas Horne?”

  “The same,” Hugh said with a grin. “And this is my lady wife, Tam.”

  “Lady Thornhill, it be a pleasure to welcome ye to Castle Mains.”