by Mary Wine
The empty room felt like a haven once again. She moved through it slowly with only the light shining in through the glass windows to guide her. Sitting down on the stool, she ran her hands over the cloth she’d woven.
Here was a part of her that had come from her father, born of the demand that she earn her keep like the other female servants. Her fingers glided over the soft wool, finding it smooth and even.
No tears wet her cheeks.
She sat waiting for them, but her heart did not ache for her sire. Guilt needled at her but it never grew into shame or anything that hurt her enough to weep.
The only thing that truly saddened her was that she did not grieve for him because he had never been a kind father to her. That was lamentable. She still missed her mother, still ached at times for the woman who had been her sweet parent. That was the wealth of a family—their love for each other.
All her father left her was the talent for making the cloth beneath her fingertips. She leaned down and placed her cheek against it. Her soul was weary. She was tired of the constant struggle her life had become recently. So tired of the uncertainty.
Tears eased from her closed eyes. Not for her father, but for the affection they had never shared. She slipped off into slumber, with the fabric beneath her cheek. For the moment it was the only thing that she might call her own.
The McJames retainers returned to their pallets on the great hall floor. Cullen sat with Alarik and Brodick while their guest ate a hastily gathered meal of bread and cheese along with cold meats left from supper. Alarik didn’t mind, nor did any of his men. They ate with the hunger that all day in the saddle gave to a man. A few of the maids had risen to the chore of serving, many of them still wearing their sleeping caps. But the inhabitants began to settle back down to sleep while they might.
Sybil appeared. She wore only her long stays over her chemise with a length of wool held tightly around her body to keep her warm. She approached the table softly, but with a determined look on her face. Cullen lifted his face and stared at her, his stomach knotting with dread.
He’d trusted Bronwyn.
“I beg yer pardon, but I canna find my mistress.”
Cullen felt his temper ignite but he held it in check. “She dinna join the women?”
Brodick looked at him because his brother knew that the tone of his voice promised retribution to whoever had enraged him.
Sybil shook her head. “And I checked yer chamber. She is no there, either.”
He’d trusted her.
Brodick gripped his arm. “She has to be here, brother. The gate was lowered behind our guests.”
“That is no the issue.” He stood up. “I trusted her.” His anger bled into his words so clearly Sybil flinched. Her eyes widened before she backed away.
“Perhaps the mistress is lost.”
“And perhaps I should have had the foresight to suspect her of lying to me.”
Brodick stood up. “Easy, Cullen. Dinna condemn the lass afore we discover why she’s nowhere to be found.”
“I’ll help ye search for her.” Alarik wiped his mouth on linen and stood up. “Since it appears that I helped ye lose her with my arrival.”
“Oh, I shall find her and that’s a promise.” One that he was going to enjoy teaching his wife that he would keep for the rest of their lives. Hurt slashed through him but he shoved it aside. He refused to feel anything but anger over her deception. He would not go soft for Bronwyn McQuade.
He would not.
The retainers who had just lain down were roused. They grumbled quietly when told who they were searching for. It was not the first time a McQuade had kept them up all night, and that was precisely why they detested anyone born with that name.
Candles and lanterns were lit. Every hallway burned bright. The maids were awakened when light was shone on their faces to identify them. Every pallet was searched, no door left closed. Cullen gritted his teeth because every person at Sterling knew that his young bride had deserted him. His pride became bruised as the search continued.
It took another two hours to search the outer buildings. By the time the retainers discovered Bronwyn bent over her loom, their tempers were hot enough to melt iron.
She awoke to rough hands on her as she was dragged through the hallways, her feet trying to keep up as her mind attempted to understand what was happening now. They took her toward the great hall, refusing to unhand her.
“Let me go.”
The burly retainers didn’t pay her any mind. They stood with their hands locked around her forearms until Cullen arrived. His face was drawn tight with fury, his eyes already cold with judgment against her.
The men holding her released her abruptly, pushing her forward with their greater strength so that she stumbled.
“Enough. There’s to be no rough handling of my wife.” Cullen’s voice didn’t sound very friendly; in fact, the man was enraged if she didn’t miss her guess. He studied her with hard eyes.
“Ye broke yer word to me.” His voice dropped to a deadly tone. Cullen pointed a finger at her. “Ye said ye would join the women.”
“There was no reason to join them. I watched ye welcoming Alarik McKorey in the keep.”
Her words stopped Cullen in mid-thought. He pressed his lips together, his change of expression showing her a glimpse of the side of him that she hadn’t wanted to run away from. But not enough to soothe her anger away. But the hall was full of pallets and McJames people who were all listening to their quarrel. The two retainers still stood behind her, guarding her. She turned her back on Cullen and challenged them. But they didn’t look at her. Their attention was on Cullen. His men waited for his permission before parting to allow her to leave.
But they followed her.
It was an insult that jabbed through her heart. Back in their chamber, she stood staring at the bed with tears in her eyes. The chair was less appealing. The self-pity she’d avoided descended on her in full force. Hopelessness strangled her spirit. Suspicion was such an ugly thing set with teeth that chewed on the tender emotions.
For the moment it felt as though the life in front of her was nothing but one struggle followed by another.
Bonnie stood silent, overlooked by everyone. She was used to it, in truth encouraged such. The argument made her flinch but she kept her eyes glued to it. There was a lesson to be learned and she forced herself to absorb it.
“Ye should leave. This is no something a young lass should witness.”
Bonnie jumped but held her gasp behind her closed lips. Alarik McKorey slid up beside her, having emerged from the dark hallway behind her. His gaze traveled over her face in a motion that was too familiar for her comfort.
“I am married.” Telling men that fact always sent them away from her. It was the only thing her husband was good for.
“Is that yer way of telling me to leave?” Alarik sounded amused.
“It is my way of reminding ye to not trespass against God’s law.”
The large Scot grunted. He was an entire head taller than herself, his shoulders twice the width of her own. His hair was dark as midnight, his eyes green. The argument in front of her drew her attention again. A firm hand on her arm made her jump. She turned on Alarik, scratching at the fingers that held her. He frowned but tugged her away from the hall before releasing her.
“As I said, lass, there’s no need for ye to witness what is being said.”
Bonnie glared at him, but he stood in the middle of the hallway with his hands braced on his hips. There was no way to go around him.
“I expect a man to advise me so.”
“And why is that?”
She drew herself up straight and proud. “Because you lure women into contentment so that they will not fuss over wedding. But once you have your way, you turn cruel.”
“Cullen is no cruel. ’Tis naught but temper. That lass has as much spirit as Cullen does.”
“You are a man. You shall defend him no matter what he does.” Bonni
e cast a last look at the hall but she could no longer tell what was being said. No matter, she understood well enough. The Scot standing in her way only added confirmation to her belief that all men used women regardless of how the woman felt. They bent them to their whims ruthlessly.
“I defend him because I understand that this union would no be a simple one but that it will bring better days to a great many people.”
“Exactly.”
He stepped toward her but Bonnie backed away. She turned around and left. There was no point in remaining. He was a man and would always side with his brethren. Just another example of why a woman was wise to avoid them. She had no desire to become a submissive wife. Bronwyn McQuade had her pity.
Cullen sat back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“That won’t help, lad.” Alarik sat down beside him, keeping his voice low as the men settled in for a few hours of sleep.
“And yer an expert on marriage, are ye?” Cullen offered him a disgruntled look. “I must have missed hearing that ye took a bride.”
Alarik scoffed at him but shook his head. “I dinna understand women any better than ye appear to.”
Something crossed his friend’s face that looked like frustration. Cullen offered him the pottery jug of whiskey. He took it and reached for a small pottery cup.
They sat in silence. It suited his mood. Bronwyn weighed on his mind. Settling her into his house was a far greater challenge than he’d anticipated.
But that was not what bothered him.
What captured his attention was the fact that it hurt to see her unhappy. He expected to be emotionally attached to his brother and sister. Even watching love grow between Brodick and Anne had not prepared him to find something tender in his own heart for a woman. Yet it was there, tangled around all of his motivations. He’d hurt her with his suspicions and it tore a hole in his gut.
“Yer right, this whiskey isna helping. I spoke too harshly to her.”
Cullen stood up and left. Alarik watched him, baffled by the determined stride his friend was using.
“Yer wrong, my friend, this whiskey is helping…me.” Alarik dumped what was left of Cullen’s whiskey into his own cup and leaned back in his chair. Aye, it was helping—helping to keep him from touching a lass who was too tender for what he wanted from her. He raised his glass in a silent salute to young Bonnie. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she was an angel not meant for his hands to touch.
His cock dinna care…
The bed rocked and Bronwyn stirred. Her head ached and her eyes burned. It was dark in the room, but she could feel Cullen near. Actually smell the scent of his skin. A tiny shiver rippled over her skin. The response made her angry because she could not even control her own body. She turned away from him.
He followed her, gripping her in his arms and even laying one leg over the top of her thighs.
“Have done, Cullen, I’ve had enough fighting for one day.”
He pressed a warm kiss against her neck instead. She’d gone to bed in her chemise but he was wearing nothing but his warm skin.
“I will never have done with ye, lass. But ye’re correct that we have spent too many hours fighting. I’m sorry I spoke harshly to ye in the hall. Ye dinna deceive me, I understand that now.” He smoothed his hands over her arms, unleashing another ripple of sensation. With exhaustion pulling at her, his warm embrace felt delightful.
“Leave me be. Ye’ve already had me tonight.”
He sighed, pressing a warm kiss against her neck. “’Tis the truth that ye have more wisdom in ye than I do. Ye have my gratitude for leaving instead of blistering my ears as was yer right.”
“Ye would have deserved it.” Bronwyn sighed inwardly because her voice sounded too forgiving. The man was going to twist her around his finger if she didn’t show more backbone.
“Aye, I know it.”
There was true regret in his voice. She wriggled against his hold but he refused to allow her to place distance between them.
“I understand why ye dinna do as ye said ye would.”
She jabbed her elbow backward and heard him grunt but his arms did not release her. “Ye dinna understand me. If ye did, we wouldna be fighting.”
He suddenly rolled over onto his back, taking her with him. He kept rolling until her back was pressed into the bedding with his body pinning her down. One arm was trapped behind his back and he captured her wrist with the other hand, pressing it to the bed.
“Yer right. But ye are nae the only one that is recently married, Bronwyn. I’ve nae been a husband afore either. We are both bound to make mistakes.”
In the dark he was only a shadow, but she felt him along her bare legs, every inch of her skin enjoying the warm contact. He kept enough of his weigh off her to keep her from being crushed, but she discovered that she enjoyed feeling the rest of it pressing down on her. As if there was some part of her that liked knowing he was stronger than she.
“I am sorry that I dinna trust ye, but I am no apologizing for wanting to keep ye.” He leaned down until his breath touched her lips. She drew in a ragged breath. Even in the dark she saw his eyes glittering.
“I wanted ye when I stole ye away, but now I need ye, Bronwyn.”
He kissed her, brushing a soft one against her mouth before deepening it. She pushed against him, trying to gain space but he insisted, kissing her with a passion that wasn’t hard, but tender instead.
Her resolve buckled. Even her pride dissipated into the night around them. In the dark there was no one to judge her. There was only the hard body of her lover. His kiss soothed her. His hand tangling in her hair while his cock hardened against her thigh. Need built into a steady throb inside her passage this time. It was warm and steady and, in a way, comforting. He trailed his kisses along her neck and she arched to offer more of the smooth column to him.
But he didn’t cover her immediately. One hand slid beneath her chemise, tugging the fabric up until he cupped a breast. Sweet sensation flowed through her as soft sounds passed her lips. She lifted her hands, seeking his skin. It was soft and hot beneath her fingertips but the muscle it covered was hard and full of strength. Every touch was slow this time, there was no rush. He stroked her with a sure hand that didn’t miss any part of her. Over her ribs, lower toward her belly and across its soft surface to the curls at the apex of her thighs.
He teased them for a moment, pulling gently on the silken strands before slipping into the delicate folds that protected her clitoris. His lips claimed hers again in a kiss that was demanding, one fingertip plunging into her sex while his tongue speared deeply into her mouth. Her thighs parted for him, her hips lifting up in welcome.
He covered her then, cupping the sides of her face with his hands. He thrust slowly forward, easing his length back into her passage. Sweet delight filled her, building once more toward pleasure. The bed ropes groaned as he increased his speed, driving faster and harder into her. She shuddered as need tightened around the hard flesh. She lifted toward it, needing just a little more speed.
Her cry, soft and delicate, filled the bed curtains. Pleasure blossomed inside her belly. It didn’t jerk her away from every thought, but instead grew warmer and warmer until her entire body was enveloped. Cullen shuddered and ground himself deep. The hot spurt of his seed hit her womb and the walls of her passage clenched tightly around him to pull every last drop from his length.
He caught his weight on his elbows on either side of her head. Both their breathing was rough as the bed slowly came to a stop. He placed a soft kiss against her cheek and then another on her temple.
“I promise ye, Bronwyn, I shall learn to be a better husband.”
A soft whimper left her lips. She opened her eyes but couldn’t see his expression in the dark. His voice was gruff and hard with emotion.
He kept his promises…
She trusted that. He rolled over onto his back and took her along with him. The bedding was shoved off to one side but he dragged it over
them with a single hand, keeping the other around her.
“I canna say that I’m sorry about yer father, but I am sorry for yer pain.”
His hand rubbed her back. It was tender and caring, bringing tears to her eyes. They dropped onto his chest before she lifted her head to hide the weakness. Cullen followed her, rolling onto his side while he allowed her to move. But he clamped a hand around her and pressed against her back, even tucking her head beneath his chin.
He was jealous.
Cullen was stunned, but amazed at the same time. Bronwyn shuddered in his embrace and he soothed her. Envy filled him, envy for the tears she spilled for another person. He wanted her to care that deeply for him. There was no way to deny it. He wouldn’t be jealous of her tears if he didn’t care for her deeply.
He could shove it off on the late hour or the stress of the long day, but that would be lying to himself.
Instead he held her, listening to the way her breathing deepened when sleep took her away. For the first time he understood why he’d often avoided his bed until exhaustion forced him to. The reason was clear.
His bed was a lonely place.
Now he realized it. Now that he had Bronwyn there to share sweet kisses with him, it wasn’t the fucking, it was the intimacy. A word that he’d known but never felt before.
But it meant nothing without her returning the affection. Sleep pulled him away from his thoughts but not before he promised to win Bronwyn’s heart.
It was a promise he would keep.
Laird Erik McQuade was laid to rest on his land with all his retainers in attendance. His three sons stood solemn while the pipes wailed out a last tribute. Keir McQuade watched frozen ground being filled in over his father and found it fitting. Maybe he was a poor son, but his father had always had a cold heart. He left the grave as soon as possible. His temper burned hot and it wasn’t for the same reason his older brothers were cursing about.