A Gift of Myrrh

by Jodi Lynn Copeland

  Reaching the blacksmith’s home, he slid from his mount and started around the small cottage to where John Smith labored. Loud voices reached his ears. Loud, happy voices. He grinned in turn. His grin was for an entirely different reason than whatever the happy crowd spoke of, but they didn’t need to know that.

  Tavish was about to clear the back of the cottage when the sound of his name stopped him. His name followed by raucous laughter. Never had he been an eavesdropper and yet he couldn’t turn around and leave, nor could he make his presence known. He listened intently, the happiness that filled him lessening with each new word until his heart twisted with icy, cold anger.

  “Mary says her ladyship is still abed he was so rough with her.”

  “’E can be ruf with me any time ‘e wants,” a woman said, causing a rise of laughter.

  Another man spoke up, his voice deadly serious. “We should not laugh at Lady Kristiana’s expense—she did us all a favor. She made a sacrifice more noble than any o’ ye or I can claim, to keep his lairdship on MacBain land. For that we owe her our eternal gratitude. It could not have been easy to give her body so freely to a stranger.”

  The angry twisting turned to a vise of pain, and whatever force dared him to allow his heart to open died away with a vengeance that shook him to the soul. He balled his fists at his sides to keep from charging into the group and strangling that last man. Or better yet charging up the hill and strangling Kristiana. She said she cared. She all but said she loved him. Bloody hell, he told her he cared for her as well. He meant to ask her to marry him, to making the lying little whore his wife!

  And all that time she had played him the fool.

  Shewas the woman he had first thought her, a conniving bitch like all the others—after a greater goal and not his heart at all. A noble sacrifice her people had said, and that it was—a noble sacrifice that at this moment he couldn’t value worth a damn.

  Chapter Seven

  Christmas Eve and Kristiana could think of no better gift than the love that swelled her heart. Tonight she would share that love with Tavish. Before she spoke her feelings aloud, she would tell him with her body, with her hands and her mouth.

  Tonight when she went to his bedchamber, she would grant his every fantasy and place no bounds on her boldness. She’d seen how excited he became when she’d spoken in lewd terms. He would become even more aroused when she acted like the strumpet he’d first deemed her, a wanton lover who knew no limits.

  Aye, tonight there would be no boundaries between them, and when their coupling was complete, she wouldn’t even need to speak the feelings of her heart, for he would know them too clearly to question.

  Josalyn, her newly assigned lady’s maid, entered the chamber to help her prepare for bed. With an easy smile, Kristiana stood from the chair before the armoire and waved the young woman away.

  When the chamber door closed behind the maid, Kristiana went to her wardrobe and retrieved a delicate satin and lace gown. It was much like the gown she had worn last night, only far more revealing. Mary had given her the nightdress as a gift for her wedding with Tomas. She’d not needed the garb with that twin. With his brother however, she could barely wait to put it on. More, she could barely wait to see Tavish’s reaction.

  Stripping off her daywear, she slipped the fine gown over her head. Cool satin caressed her body as it glided downward. The cloth rubbed against her nipples and they thrust outward with anticipation. Coming to stand before the armoire, she ran her thumb over a distended crown and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, red hair spilled wildly around her face and her eyes were deep blue and alive with excitement, but her cheeks were too dull for her liking.

  Pinching was the common way to bring color into one’s face. Her encounters with Tavish told her of another way, a way that would ensure she was ready and eager for him the moment she stepped into his bedchamber.

  With a quick glance around the room to ensure she was truly alone, she slid her palm from her breast, past her belly, and rubbed against her mound through her nightdress. Instant wetness seeped through the thin material and she released a whimper of need. Bunching the satin in her hand, she touched her fingers to her damp sex. She’d never done this before, touched herself so intimately and for her own pleasure, but she felt no shame. Only want swirled through her limbs, coiling endless heat in her belly as she flicked her fingers against her slit and moaned out her response.

  It didn’t feel as incredible as when it was Tavish’s strong fingers, or better his tongue stroking her swollen sex, but it didn’t feel bad either.

  Lowering to the chair before the armoire, she parted her thighs and stared down at her femininity. Red curls glistened with dewy moisture. She parted the hair to examine the folds of flesh beneath, then parted them as well to look upon the bud that nested there.

  Amazing, something so simple could bring one such pleasure. The nub was rather small, and yet so bright and quivering for her touch. She rubbed her thumb against it and cried out her surprise as shivers of intense pleasure crashed through her. She petted the tender bud again and the muscles of her inner thighs contracted. She fought against the urge to clamp her legs together and squirm, and continued her idle strokes, increasing her pace as the throbbing sensation grew ever stronger.

  She needed this awakening, needed to know her body well, was she to best use it to pleasure Tavish.

  And she enjoyed it.

  Drawing her feet up onto the chair at either of her sides, she continued to coax the small bud until the pressure became nearly unbearable and her juices lathered her fingers. Then she thrust one finger inside. Instinctively she bucked against the foreign assault and greedily drove another finger into her core. Her nether lips felt tight and wet, her muscles contracted with each and every thrust. The tang of her sex on the air was all the stimulation she needed. Inhaling the sweet, musky scent, she reclined her head back on the chair, closed her eyes and stroked. Oblivious to her surroundings, oblivious to the outside world, oblivious to everything but the endless pleasure flooding through her body and the chaotic beat of her heart.

  And that’s exactly how Tavish found her. Sitting there with her legs drawn up and her milky white thighs spread wide.

  He went hard in an instant, gazing upon her flushed face, her pussy parted and her fingers furiously darting in and out as she whimpered for release. His cock thrust against his breeches and he bit his lip to keep from growling the loathing that seared through him, ending in the vicinity of his heart. He knew the words he’d heard in the village were true now. Had she truly wanted him, been pleased by him, she wouldn’t be seeking gratification at her own hand. She would be in his bed at this very moment, the place he’d nearly been convinced she belonged.

  He started toward her, stopping dead in his tracks as a low, breathy cry tore from her mouth. She writhed against the chair, her body trembling and unmistakable sucking sounds erupting from her dripping cunt. She was coming. And he couldn’t stop himself from watching.

  Her cries turned to near sobs as the orgasm rifled through her, soaking her slender hands, her inner thighs and the seat beneath. His cock pushed so hard against his breeches, he had no choice but to release it or allow it to break through the cloth. And why not release it? He once thought to stroke himself before her eyes—he no longer had a reason not to. She might have been a virgin the night before, but she had been far from innocent. She was a liar, a bitch who dared to sell herself for her people.

  Grunting his vexation, Tavish yanked his pants down and took his thick cock into his hand. He grasped his penis firmly, pretending it was Kristiana’s too pretty neck and then eagerly began to stroke. Blood hammered through his ears and shot to his groin as his shaft tightened and pulsed within his palm.

  He couldn’t stop himself from growling aloud, “This is for you, darling. For what you wanted all along was to see me fucked.”

  Kristiana’s eyes flared wide, and the desire that laced them turned to shock. Her feet
slammed to the floor and she squeaked out, “Sweet Lord…what are you—”

  “Pleasing myself, just as you chose to do.”

  “Nay. I was—” She stopped short at his savage growl and her eyes grew wider, darkened to near midnight. “Please. Let me.”

  His first instinct was to say no then he changed his mind. Let the wench spend time on her knees if she so wished it. He was before her in two strides. Grasping her shoulders, he pushed her to the floor then caught her by the hair and tugged her toward his engorged cock. “Suck it, Kristi. Swallow my seed.”

  With an audible gasp, she planted her palms against his thighs as if to push him away. He strengthened his grip on her hair, forcing her to come into contact with the deep-purple head of his erection. “Do it, my lady. Do your job. Prove just how noble you are. Fuck me with your mouth.”

  He felt her tremble beneath his hands, and for a moment he felt guilt, then her tongue came out and licked at the moisture that beaded on the tip of his shaft and he knew nothing but hunger. She drew him into the heated cavern of her mouth, and he groaned at the feel of her lush lips sliding along the ridges of his cock. Catching the base of his penis in her palm, she increased the pressure of her suckling. Her free hand went to his balls, cupping and shaping them, and his groans turned to grunts of agony.

  This was sheer hell, for it couldn’t be heaven. She was no angel, no innocent. She was a woman to fuck one last time then be rid of.

  “Enough!” Tavish roared, tugging her free of his cock by her hair.

  Kristiana stared at him through wide eyes, a look that spoke of fear or possibly excitement. He cared naught how she felt—he reminded himself—he cared nothing about her at all. He caught her in his arms in one swift move and then strode to the bed. He tossed her onto her stomach on the mattress. Digging his fingers into her hips, he yanked her backward until her ass cheeks were splayed wide before him, her pussy open and wet with readiness. Not that he cared if she was wet, she could be dry as a bone and he would still take his pleasure this one last time.

  Shouting a battle cry, he thrust into her tight cunt from behind. He pulled her against his chest and crudely palmed her breasts, twisted and plucked at her nipples, all but oblivious to her helpless mewls as he pumped into her flesh again and again. Her soaked pussy clamped down on him hard, her palms fell flat to the bed and she balled her fists into the bedclothes. She was coming. The little tramp was coming again!

  Latching onto her neck with a brutal bite, he fucked her faster, harder. He would get her from his mind were it the last thing he did, and the only way to do that was through punishing them both for their stupidity. Only it didn’t feel like punishment when finally the orgasm ripped through him, it didn’t feel like punishment at all when once more her hot, wet cunt contracted around him. It did, however, feel like punishment when she cried out his name in ecstasy.

  The moment he could breathe without gasping, Tavish pulled from her. She wrenched around on the bed and met his eyes, and the bitch had the nerve to smile! He scowled in return and retraced his steps to the armoire, tugged on his breeches.

  Kristiana’s smile fell. “Where are you going?”

  “Away.”

  Worry clouded her eyes. It was all he could do not to laugh.Yes, my lady , he thought sardonically,it would seem your little game is over .

  “Why?” she demanded, struggling to her feet.

  He tried not to look at the high, firm globes of her breasts or the distended, scarlet buds that topped them, tried not to let his gaze drop to the drenched curls at her pussy, but he couldn’t stop himself. His actions angered him all the more. “Because I won’t share a bed with a whore,” he lashed out.

  Her mouth fell wide and shame colored her cheeks a vivid red. “A whore?” she whispered on a strangled breath. “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t bother to stop his chuckle. She was a damned good actress. Perhaps she had a future on the stage. One thing she didn’t have, would never have, was a future with him. He curled his lip in a belittling smile and all but spat, “I know, darling. I know every bloody thing. I know what a conniving little liar you are, I know you never gave a damn about me, and I know you are a slut sent by your villagers to seduce me.”

  The color that had claimed her cheeks washed white and she looked as though she might swoon. She gave her head a fierce shake, rushing to his side to grab his arm. “Nay. ‘Tisn’t true! You can’t believe that, Tavish.”

  He shook her hand away, no longer able to stomach the feel of her touch. “Then what is, Kristiana? What is the truth? Are you so enamored of me you couldn’t stay away? You had to sneak into my chamber and beg me to take your innocence?”

  Tears trickled from her murky eyes, tears that shot straight to his heart. He forced the uncomfortable sensation to pass. He wouldn’t feel for her, wouldn’t care if she wept until her eyes cracked and bled. He wouldn’t!

  Sniffing back her tears, she fell to his feet and hugged his legs. “Aye. ‘Tis the truth, my laird. I am enamored with you. I gave myself to you so you wouldn’t desert me. Not the villagers, but me.” Kristiana tipped back her face and looked up at him, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t bear the thought of your leaving, my love.”

  Yes, she had a promising future on the stage, for her false tears almost made him believe she spoke the truth. Almost. He started to turn from her, to flee to the safety of the door, when she gripped his legs tighter and cried out, “I love you, Tavish. I will always love you.”

  The words ate at his heart, but not in the way she clearly had hoped they would. Instead, they revived a long ago buried memory, a reflection that churned his gut and brought bile into his throat. Bitterness stole through him and he wrenched free of her arms. He distanced himself from her and narrowed his gaze on her pitiful form. She looked broken and miserable. He could only grin, for that’s exactly how he felt.

  “You will always love me,” he repeated her word with a sneer. “That’s what my father said right before he sent me to the English. I didn’t believe him either.”

  “Please…you have to understand. I didn’t do this for—”

  He turned his back to her, refusing to look upon her deplorable face another moment. “I don’t care why you did it, just like I don’t care to hear about your feeble notions of love. I once made a promise to myself to never take a wife I cared for. I planned to break that promise for you, but no longer. Not now that you reminded me why I made that vow—because women are liars, not to be trusted. They speak words of love, of need, of desire, when all they truly want is a good fuck that leads to an even better reward. You’ve gotten your fuck, now play time’s over,darling .”

  “Please…”

  The broken sob that accentuated the word pressed at Tavish’s gut. Forcing the sensation back, he stalked to the door and grabbed the handle. “Goodbye, Kristi.”

  “You can’t leave! What about the people? The promises you made?”

  “I already gave them more than they deserve—my faith and my loyalty—and in return they gave me a deceitful bitc—” He stopped short and opened the door, stepped through the entryway and said with all the anger that roiled through him, “Merry Christmas, my lady. I hope you enjoyed your gift.”

  And then he was gone.

  * * * * *

  Upon hearing the news of Tomas’ death many months before, Kristiana knew the years ahead would be difficult ones for the MacBain clan. She’d accepted having to live in poverty if such were God’s will, to feed upon scraps of mutton or the thinnest of stews if food were to be found at all. She’d even accepted leaving her home and journeying to the colonies if that’s what it came to. None of those things compared to accepting that the man she loved would soon be gone from her forever.

  Sniffing back tears that seemed endless, she straightened in her chair and gazed across her bedchamber at Mary. She had called her friend here for a single reason—to say goodbye. She heard from Tompkins that Tavish planned to leave for
Inverness by nightfall. She would simply have to leave first. This land was his by birth, by blood, and by honor. Hehad honored his people. Had given them hope when they were down to naught. And she knew in her heart he would continue to do so, if only she wasn’t around to make him doubt his actions and remind him what a fool he’d been.

  He hadn’t been a fool of course. She had, and because of it she would spend her Christmas day fleeing to the unknown. Spend the rest of her life loving a man who loathed her with every inch of his being.

  Rising on weary legs, she went to the armoire and grabbed the thin bracelet her mother had given her many years before. She crossed to Mary and tucked the strand of emerald and silver into the other woman’s palm. Her throat constricted as she said, “I want you to have this, to remember me by.”