Charming the Shrew

by Laurin Wittig

  “Cat.” He ground out the single strangled word as he shifted from statue-still to a man in motion.

  His hands cupped her breasts, lifting them, caressing them, and then he dipped his head and tasted them again. He laid her back on the bed, kissing her until her head swam and her body yearned. He moved down her, leaving a trail of branding kisses along her neck, over her breasts, and down her belly. He kissed her inner thigh, urging her legs apart. The soft bristles of his whiskers tickled, and she gasped as he kissed her there, where the fire burned brightest, until she thought she would cry with wanting. She reached for him, pulling him to her until he lay in the cradle of her thighs. She didn’t know why, but she needed to rock against him.

  Tayg stilled her hips with a hand.

  “Cat.” He rose onto his elbows and framed her face with his hands. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, the most interesting, the most challenging. Her temper forced him to act. Her vulnerability pushed him to protect, a need no other woman had ever drawn forth in him. And yet he did not wish to protect on this night. He wished to make her his own.

  “Are you sure you want this, sweet Cat?”

  “Aye, Tayg, I do.” She moved under him, sending flames racing over his body. Her hands were on him, urging him forward. Her passion was as strong as her temper, dear God!

  He kissed her and stroked into her, breaking her maidenhead in one quick thrust.

  Her breath hitched and he held very still, letting her get used to the feeling of him inside her. He kissed her again, quickly fanning the flames back to a raging inferno. When she started to whimper and move beneath him he held still a moment longer, then let the force of his passion take over.

  They exploded against each other, as if they had waited their entire lives for this one moment, each lost in the other and the exquisite feelings their joined bodies created. He heard his name, then heard his own voice whispering words of encouragement and endearment.

  They moved with each other, against each other, over and under each other until at last he could not hold back any longer. He pinned her under him, his hands capturing hers, and stroked into her, long and fast and hard. She wrapped her legs about his waist, and a moment later a high, keening sound came from her. He released his last hold on sanity and lost himself in her.

  CAT WOKE TO the extremely pleasant sensation of Tayg’s body curled against her back, cradling her against his chest, his thighs snugged against hers and her bottom tucked neatly into his lap. Thinking of his lap brought the events of last night rushing back, and Catriona found herself wishing to experience that joining all over again. She closed her eyes and remembered, sinking into the feelings that had swept over her, the joy, the overwhelming tenderness, the desire to touch and to be touched. She squirmed a little to get closer to Tayg, needing to feel his skin against hers. His arm tightened about her waist. His hand moved over her ribs and up to cup her breast and the newly sensitive nipple he had been so attentive to the night before.

  “If you keep wiggling against me, love, we shall have to repeat last night’s activities.”

  She could hear the grin in his voice as she rolled in his arms to face him. He greeted her with a kiss that had her mind reeling and her body aching for his touch, which he quickly supplied. Catriona let herself wallow in the sensations of his hands and his mouth on her, then satisfied her own curiosity by exploring his well-muscled body with her own hands and mouth. When they were both breathless, he kissed her deeply once more and slid into her. She was sore, but he was gentle with her, moving slowly until she could not stand the pace a moment longer. They moved together, faster, urging each other on until there was nothing but white-hot, fiery pleasure.

  After a while, Catriona opened her eyes to find Tayg staring at her, his nose mere inches from her own. He propped his chin in one hand and stroked her cheek with his other.

  “You are truly a remarkable lass.”

  “In spite of my tart tongue?”

  “I’m rather fond of your tongue at the moment,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her lightly.

  ’Twas odd that such a simple chaste kiss could make her feel so desired, so loved.

  “I think we should be married as soon as possible,” he said. “I do not want to wait to make you my wife. You do remember saying you would wed with me, do you not?”

  She smiled at the question. “I will be your wife, Tayg. ’Tis practically a done deed already.” She stared at him a moment, drinking in the sight of all that sinewy strength, remembering the night they had spent, and the last hour. She would be content to stay here in his arms, safe from the world forever. But the world would not let them.

  “Where is your family? Culrain, did you not say? We should go there and seek the blessing of your chief.”

  He nodded slowly, his expression serious. “To Culrain. ’Tis little more than a day’s ride, perhaps two with the snow so deep. I think I can wait that long.”

  She pressed one hand to his cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him, letting all her love pour into it, into him. When she pulled away his eyes were dark and full of passion.

  “Mayhap you can,” she said, “but I am not sure that I can wait that long.”

  He grinned at her. “Some things need not wait,” he said, pulling her on top of him and kissing her senseless.

  TAYG GRABBED HIS clothing and quickly dressed, never taking his eyes off Cat. A sharp possessiveness sank its claws into him equal to the fierce tenderness he felt as he watched her move about the loft, dressing.

  He must tell her who he was, explain the whole complicated mess to her, but he did not want to ruin this first bright morning of their life together. She would ride tucked within his embrace this day and he would tell her the tale from start to finish, or at least to the present, for the end of this tale was yet to be determined. She would no doubt display her fine temper when he told of his deception, but she loved him, fiercely, passionately, and eventually she would see that it mattered not what name he used nor who his kin were. All would be well.

  “Hurry down, love. I would prefer to spend the day in this bed with you—” he kissed her “—but alas, we must make haste to the king.”

  “Aye, you must deliver your report, and we must think of a way to protect my clan from Broc’s folly too.”

  Shame had him reaching for his pack to avoid meeting her eyes. “We will, lass. ’Twill be but a small matter once we find the king.” He grabbed her and kissed her again, unable to keep his hands from her.

  “Go!” She giggled and shoved him toward the ladder. “I will be down soon.”

  Tayg skipped the last few rungs of the ladder and jumped to the floor, pleasantly surprised when his jarring landing didn’t pain his ribs anymore. The friar, Gair, and Lina sat at the table, talking quietly. Tayg cleared his throat to announce himself.

  “Good morn to you, young Tayg,” the friar said. “I trust you and your bonny wife are not well rested this morn?”

  Lina smacked the man’s shoulder as she rose from the table, but the friar and Gair still grinned at Tayg and he could not help but grin back.

  “Aye, we are not well rested, thank you very much,” he said.

  Lina served a bowl of porridge from the black kettle hanging above the fire. She handed it to Tayg with a spoon.

  “Where is your lady?” she asked as she returned to her seat at the table.

  “She will be down in a moment,” Tayg said. “I thank you for your kind hospitality, but we must be on our way as soon as she has broken her fast.”

  “What is your hurry? Stay another day,” the friar said. “You have not entertained us with song and story yet. Surely my cousins’ hospitality deserves as much?” He winked at Tayg.

  “My talent is but little,” Tayg said with a grin. “Gair and Lina’s hospitality deserves much more than I can provide. I promise I will send a more talented bard to visit here—and you, good friar, will have songs and tales aplenty while attending the wedding festivities i
n Dingwall.”

  “Besides, ’tis winter,” Gair said. “’Twould be best for you to take advantage of the clear weather today, though your bride may not wish to sit a horse so soon.” Gair grinned.

  Tayg nodded. “I will pad the saddle for her if I must, but you ken well why we must hasten to the king.”

  “The king?” the friar said. “Och, ’tis no need to hurry then. The wedding in Dingwall is still ten days hence and ’tis but three days’ ride at most. The king rides between his northern supporters until then, gathering new men to the cause of Scotland’s freedom and gaining vows of allegiance from those who have not tendered such before. He should be at Linsmore or Culrain by now. He is said to work his way south to Dingwall, arriving but a day or two before the wedding, which shall take place on Hogmanay.”

  “You did not tell me this news, John,” Gair said. “Tayg, ’twill be even easier for you to find the king if he bides in your father’s hall at Culrain.”

  “Your father?” The friar narrowed his eyes. “Methinks, cousin, that you, too, have not been forthcoming with all you ken.”

  “Nay, John—”

  “This is no bard,” the friar continued as if Gair had not spoken. “’Tis braw Tayg of Culrain.” A huge grin broke over the friar’s face, and Tayg felt the moment spin out of his control.

  “I am not.”

  “Aye, ’tis why you seemed so familiar to me when we met upon the trail yesterday. I met you and your brother once when you were but wee lads, and I have heard many a tale from Gair and songs from the bards about your exploits on the battlefield.”

  “Please, Friar John, Lina,” he added when he realized the woman stared at him, her mouth a hard line. “There are reasons for the deception. I would ask that you keep this knowledge to yourself—”

  “Cat does not know, does she?” Lina asked quietly, her eyes now focused on a point behind Tayg.

  Hair rose on his neck and he turned.

  Catriona stood frozen at the foot of the ladder, her face ashen.

  “I think we should leave these two alone again,” Lina said, shooing the two older men away from the table and out the door. “Give him a chance to explain, lass,” she said to Cat. “’Tis sure I am ’twill be a good tale.”

  CATRIONA STARED AT the stranger standing across the room. He looked like someone she knew, and yet, if what she had heard were true, he was a stranger. Tayg of Culrain, not Tayg her bard. ’Twas impossible.

  “Cat, I can explain.”

  “Is it true? How can it be true?”

  Tayg stepped toward her, but she held up a hand, stopping him before he could get close enough to touch her.

  “You are a bard. I have heard you play.”

  “Though you yourself agree I do not play well.”

  Catriona’s knees threatened to give out on her. She felt blindly behind her for something to sit on, finally lowering herself to sit upon the cold floor.

  “Cat? Are you unwell?”

  She shook her head, still trying to fit the Tayg she knew, the Tayg she had traveled with, bickered with, made love with…oh, God. What had she done?

  “It cannot be.”

  “Aye, love, ’tis the truth. I am sorry I could not tell you sooner.”

  “You did not tell me now!” Pain flickered to life in her gut as she realized the full import of what had just happened. “You took me to your bed without ever telling me who you truly were.” She had the odd thought that her voice sounded as if it came from someone else, someone quiet, breathless, afraid. “Did you laugh all night long at how gullible Catriona was?”

  She raised her gaze to meet his but could not see him clearly for the tears gathering in her eyes.

  “Nay, Cat, ’twas not so—”

  “Tayg the Charmer of Culrain has taken yet another lass, and this time he did not even have to dangle his reputation to get her to throw herself in his bed.” She swiped at her eyes, determined not to let the tears fall.

  “’Twas not like that, Cat. You know it.”

  “’Twould seem I know nothing. I am but an ignorant, gullible, stupid git, so easily duped that I did not even ken I fell in love with a guiser.” The depth of his betrayal made the admission so much harder, the pain so much greater.

  “Cat, please, I did not want to hurt you. I did not lie to you about my feelings. I love you. Could you not feel the truth last night? I love you, Cat. I wish you to be my wife, to spend your life with me. There is no reason that cannot be. I am Tayg of Culrain. I am the man you said you wished to marry all along.”

  She looked up at him, unable and unwilling to disguise the anguish that ripped through her, the shame. “’Tis too late now,” she said. “’Tis too late.”

  Slowly he moved to her and crouched before her. “When we met I was already traveling as a bard and saw no reason why you should need to know otherwise. Later, ’twas too late, and I was a coward. I did not wish to challenge the tender feelings that were growing between us with my secrets.”

  “Secrets? Are there other lies? Other tales yet to be told about poor, stupid Catriona?”

  “Aye.” He winced. “Nay. Not about you, and neither are you poor nor stupid.” His voice held a hint of exasperation, but she did not care.

  “There is more then?”

  Tayg held her gaze for a moment then looked to the floor and seemed to make a decision. He settled himself in front of her as if they still sat in their little travelers’ hut amid the storm—only this storm was of a different making, and she didn’t think she would survive it.

  Whether it was a moment or a day later, Cat couldn’t say, but when Tayg finished his tale of Dogface’s plot against the king, her clan’s part in it, and her own status as a hostage, she was sure the world had ended. She had nowhere to turn, not even the comfort of Tayg’s strong arms. She had nowhere to go. She had nothing.

  In the space of time it took to tell the tale, her world had crumbled until there was nothing left.

  As she stared at the stranger before her, a vast emptiness opened up within her, extinguishing the fire that had been Catriona.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “CATRIONA?” TAYG’S GUT clenched. She was so still, so silent. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react. Where were the sharp words, the angry glare? “Cat? Lass? This changes naught important. I love you. I want to marry you. ’Tis better for your clan that you marry Tayg of Culrain, not Tayg the bumbling bard.”

  He expected a smile or at least a snide agreement with his description of himself, but she continued to stare at his chest, not making eye contact, not reacting in any way. He reached out, and she didn’t even flinch or tell him not to touch her.

  Fear crawled out of his gut and strangled his heart. “Cat, please, look at me. I never meant to hurt you, never intended…any of this. But it has happened and I—”

  The cottage door burst open, and a grim Gair scattered snow as he rushed to Tayg’s side.

  “’Tis a rider, coming this way in a great hurry. Pol saw him from the ridge. You must away immediately.” He looked from Tayg to Catriona’s stricken face, and the concern on Gair’s face deepened. “Lass, the lad meant well…”

  “Leave it, Gair. She knows it all now.”

  This was his doing, and he’d not have her pushed for his mistakes. The lost look on her face had him tied in knots. If she’d scream, throw something, he could understand that, but the silence, and the look of despair, was something new. ’Twas as if she had gone from a finely forged sword to the most delicate of glass goblets—an empty glass goblet ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

  “Cat? I’m sorry, lass, but we cannot risk capture. I’ll not let your brothers have you—and we must warn the king.”

  She blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. “What?”

  “We must away now. Someone comes.”

  She rose from the floor, refusing the hand he offered. “My bag…” She looked up at the loft, and he knew from the pain etched about her mouth that she could
not return to the place where she had given him so much of her heart and of herself.

  “I will fetch it. Gair—” he turned to the man “—will you help her with her cloak and have the horse brought round?”

  “The horse is already sent for,” Gair said, grabbing Cat’s cloak from a peg by the door.

  Tayg was back before Gair had finished settling the cloak on her shoulders.

  “My thanks, Gair, for everything, and my apologies for getting you involved in my troubles.”

  “’Tis an honor to get into trouble with you, Tayg. You keep that lass safe and give her some time. She loves you, ’tis clear, only you have given her a bit of a shock. She’ll come round when she realizes she’s captured the brawest lad in all the Highlands. Now go. Quickly. Give my respect to your da when you see him.”

  Tayg nodded and reached for the door just as it opened. The brightness of the morning sun glinting off the ice-crusted snow blinded him for a moment, then Pol stepped into the dim room.

  “We’ve another guest, Da, and he’s looking for Tayg and Cat!”

  Tayg stepped in front of Cat as a larger form blocked the doorway. He squinted, trying to make out the features.

  “’Tis quite the merry chase you have given, sister.”

  Tayg’s head pounded. ’Twasn’t enough that he had hurt the woman he loved this day, but now her future was doubly in jeopardy.

  Ailig MacLeod had found them.

  “HELLO, TRIONA,” AILIG said.

  Catriona seemed to be swimming through mud. Every movement took more effort than it should. Voices seemed distant, muffled, separate. Words didn’t make sense unless she concentrated very hard. So when she heard Ailig speak, ’twas hard to believe he was really there, even harder to drag herself from her misery and respond. Tayg said something, his tone harsh, but it took her a moment to understand.

  “What do you want? Where are the others?” That was Tayg’s voice, and he sounded…worried?