by Lynn Tyler
“Where?” he asked as his fingers started to wander. “Here, on your clit?” He circled it without actually touching it, driving her wild with want.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“You will have to tell me. Say the words, lass.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Touch my clit,” she pleaded. He rewarded her by flicking his finger directly over it and then stroking the exquisitely sensitive right side of it.
Beyond thinking, she began to chant his name over and over. Just as she was sure her body was going to explode, he stopped. “Why are you stopping?” she cried fretfully.
“Do you want me to put my fingers in you again?” he asked, stroking the opening without actually breaching her.
“Yes,” she moaned, pushing against him.
“Say it,” he demanded.
Jocelyn swallowed with difficulty and prayed for an end to the torture. “Put your fingers in me,” she said. When he continued to simply look at her, to make her brain work long enough to say the words, she demanded, “Put your fingers in my pussy.”
He smiled and slid two fingers into her. She gasped at the invasion, her body tightening around him as if trying to prevent him from leaving. “Oh, lass,” he groaned. “I want to be inside you.”
He curled his two fingers slightly, and she felt him rasp on a spot she didn’t even know she possessed. She followed her instincts and bore down on those fingers as he ground his thumb into her clit.
Jocelyn started to shake as she came apart at the seams, pleasure streaking through every part of her body. “Aye, lass,” she vaguely heard him saying. “Let yourself go. I will catch you.”
Her clit throbbed and jumped in a way she never knew it could. The entire world had narrowed to the pleasure concentrated at the small nub. She floated with the pleasure for some time until her breathing began to slow and the pleasure mellowed into a satiated buzz of sensation.
As she settled, Jocelyn became aware of Robbie starting to curse. He laid himself atop her, but it seemed now as if he had lost the urge to make love to her. Indeed, he seemed to be covering her from something. Or someone. She barely stifled her groan when she heard an answering curse. Her father had finally found her. And in the worst possible situation.
“Get your hands off my daughter!” her father shouted as he made his way quickly down to their position.
He yanked her out from under Robbie only to stare in horror at her nakedness. “Cover yourself, lass. The shame you have brought to our family cannot be repaired,” he growled, bending to pick up her discarded tunic and throwing it at her.
Her father’s voice was rising with every word until he was shouting. “I should beat you for your disobedience then disown you for your behavior. You are no better than a whore, you are!”
“Calm yourself!” Robbie shouted, putting himself between her and her father. He had managed to hastily don his kilt while her father had been yelling. “It should have been obvious she did not get in this situation on her own. And I can attest she is still pure.”
“Aye, well, no one will take your word for it. She is as good as ruined now. You have completely spoiled your marriage contract.” He rounded on Jocelyn again, “and I worked hard for that contract!”
Robbie spoke up before she could defend herself. “She wants to be a nun, not marry some strange man!”
“A nun, my ass,” her father retorted. “She does not want to be a nun any more than she wants to be a wife. Running away was simply a way to defy me.”
“You should not be forcing her to marry anyone should she be against the notion,” Robbie shot back.
Her father snorted at that. “You do not have any daughters, do you? Besides, she will not be marrying anyone once her actions are revealed to all.”
She pushed her way between the two men and faced her father, intent on setting the record straight despite the fear that raced through her. Her father had never hit her before, but there was a decidedly violent air about him right now. Before she could say anything, however, he grabbed her by the arm and jerked her toward him.
“Come, lass. Your betrothed has not yet arrived, and perhaps we can get you home and married before he hears of this,” Alasdair said lowly.
“And marry a man who would beat me for my actions, as you would?” she cried indignantly. “I will not go with you.”
Robbie removed her father’s arm from her arm and eased her to his side, shielding her from any further contact. “You will not force her. If you want to disown her, I will take responsibility for her welfare.”
Jocelyn bristled at the comment, her hackles rising defiantly, and pulled away from him. “I do not need you to protect me,” she said stiffly. “I will go to the nunnery as planned and live out my life in poverty before I marry against my will.”
Her father looked skyward. “Why, God, did you saddle me with such a hoyden? It is nothing more than a test of my will. A test by the name of Jocelyn MacKenna!”
She was gasping with outrage at the insult when she noticed Robbie stepping back, an expression of horror crossing his face. She opened her mouth to ask why he had gone so pale, but he cut across her inquiry. “Jocelyn MacKenna?” he croaked. “You said your name was Corrine.”
She shrugged and glared at her father again. “He bartered me off to the MacGillivray tyrant. I had to make for the nunnery or I would have been tied to the cold-hearted bastard forever. I would rather be a nun than tied to a murderer for the rest of my life.”
He paled even further, and his beautiful lips thinned out into a hard line. The scar stood in stark relief on his face, and, ever so briefly, a betrayed, hurt look shimmered in his eyes before he shuttered his expression and turned away. “I agree,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “You would be better off in a nunnery, for I will not marry you now. The marriage contract has been cancelled.”
Jocelyn stared at the back of his head, a horrible understanding settling over her. He wasn’t Robbie Gunn. He was Robert MacGillivray, her intended. What the hell was she going to do now?
* * * *
God’s blood, what the hell was he going to do now? Robbie stalked back to the camp site, not caring if the MacKenna shrew and her father followed or not.
He stormed over to his men and saw that Will was back. “Jocelyn MacKenna is missing,” Will told him cautiously, obviously noting his black mood. “I met her father and the priest on the way down. They had been travelling all night searching for her after her horse was found running home from this direction. We were just figuring out the best way to search for her.”
“Do not bother,” he said coldly. “I have already found the wench. She was running off to the nunnery to avoid her marriage to me.”
Jamie and Will stood silently, looking like fish with their mouths open and agape. “Do you mean to tell us the lass you so adored is actually your intended?”
“Aye,” Robbie grunted shortly. “Since she would rather be a nun than be married to a murdering, cold-hearted bastard, her words, not mine, I have allowed the contract to be voided. It seems you all got your wish. I will not be marrying the shrew after all.”
He readied his horse for the three-day journey home, ignoring the awful, tearing pain in his chest. Once again, the rumors had reared their ugly head, and he was left with a choice. Either live with his reputation as a wife killer or reveal his humiliation to the world. He would rather swallow a live fish and eat bugs than let people know his first wife killed herself rather than be married to him.
Alasdair MacKenna came rushing through the tree line, tugging his churlish daughter behind him, shouting about broken marriage contracts and blood feuds. Robbie’s heart stuttered for a moment at the momentary expression of pain that crossed the girl’s face. It was obvious her father’s grip was hurting her. He already knew there would be dark bruises marring the girl’s delicate flesh by the evening.
He almost jumped off his horse, ready to beat the man for treating her so roughly, when he remembered thi
s was the witch who had broken his heart. God, what an idiot he was for allowing some strange lass to get close to the heart he had shielded for so long. He had been stupid to think she would believe the best of him instead of those blasted rumors.
He hardened his heart against those feelings and reminded himself he had been about to leave.
Suddenly, he heard one of his brothers shouting. “You think we care if you go to your laird? For crying out loud, man! Robbie is a laird himself, and he will not marry some lying wench who is no better than a common street whore.”
Anger roared through Robbie at the insult. It was one thing for him to think such thoughts of the lass. It was an entirely different thing for his brother to utter those insults. He dismounted and squared off with Jamie. “You will have more respect than that,” he said lowly, aware his voice was gravelly and dangerous.
Then he turned on the girl’s father, refusing to look at the petite woman beside him. “She does not want to marry,” he said. “And I will not be the one to force her. Let her go to the nunnery.”
“You will marry her, if for nothing else than her honor. If you break this contract, I will go to my laird and tell him you defiled her and then cast her aside. My daughters are valuable commodities, and you have stripped the MacKennas of her value. He will have no problem initiating a feud over the insult to our clan.”
Robbie paused as the man’s words penetrated his dangerously black temper. A blood feud could be disastrous. They were a large, strong clan, but feuds could go on for generations. Did he really want to be the cause of his grandchildren’s hardships?
He shook his head and smiled without humor. Why was he thinking about his grandchildren? He was ready to give up his only chance at children. But really, his brothers would have children eventually, as would the rest of his clan. And, contrary to his reputation, he did not want to be responsible for all that bloodshed.
“Have you been touched in the head, man?” Will shouted. “Your daughter is clearly a whore and a liar. Why in all that is holy would you start a blood feud over her?”
Robbie’s blood boiled at the insult and instinct took over. He swung around and gripped his brother at the collar of his tunic with both hands. “If I ever hear you speak that way of any lass again, I will put you on the ground.”
He shoved William away, watching dispassionately as he stumbled into a tree and then hit the ground. He turned back to Alasdair and glowered at him. “Your daughter’s honor means so much to you that you would start a feud over her?” he asked.
Alasdair took a step back as if just realizing he was the smaller of the two. Robbie knew he was a big man, and in his current mood, he probably looked like the devil’s own servant, but that really didn’t matter now. All that mattered now was the man’s response. Given the right one, he would marry the lass. The wrong one, he would turn his back and damn them all to hell.
“Aye,” he said nervously. “She is my daughter, my laird. She has no brothers to count on for her safety once I pass on.
“If I thought she would be happy as a nun, I would let her go unto the nunnery with my blessing, but she is rash and did not think her decision through. She would be miserable for the rest of her life. At least if she married, she would have a chance at being happy.”
All the fight drained out of Robbie’s body, leaving him with nothing but a sense of resignation. How could he argue with that rationale? The man wanted his child safe and happy. “Has she no other suitors then?”
The man sighed and glanced over at his hoyden of a daughter. “Just one, my laird, and I informed him several days ago that I was turning down his offer in favor of yours. He is not someone I would have married my worst enemy’s daughter to anyway.”
Robbie sighed and dropped his head so that he could stare at the woman next to him. She was small, and his great size made her seem even smaller. Jocelyn looked delicate and sweet, her brown hair curing around her chin and her green eyes flashing at him. It wouldn’t be too awful to be married to her he reasoned. The good Lord knew he desired her body, and she certainly was passionate enough. As for her behavior in the past day or so…well, perhaps all it would take was a firm hand to keep her in check.
“Fine,” he growled. “I will marry her. Follow us home and we will marry at my keep.”
“Nay,” Alasdair said. “Our priest followed us out in case we needed last rights. You will marry her now, and then we will follow you to your keep to ensure her safe arrival.”
Robbie’s temper flared again. “You doubt my intentions or your daughter’s safety?” he whispered.
“Nay,” the older man said again. “In truth, I do not doubt your intentions. I fear my daughter will attempt to escape in another one of her reckless decisions. It will not matter to her that she is married. She will run again, even if it is just out of spite for being forced to marry.”
The tiny lass finally spoke up, her hands on her hips and her eyes spitting fire. “I do believe you need my consent during the ceremony. And I do not intend to give it.”
Both men stared at her, having totally forgotten her presence, and she continued, heedless of their surprise. “I am not a cow or a sheep to be traded on a whim. I am a person, with feelings and opinions of my own. And you,” she said, pointing at Robbie. “What happened to ‘I will not force her’?”
Robbie’s body hardened at her show of will. He’d never wanted a lass to lie passive in his bed, and this little bundle of female would be anything but passive. He couldn’t wait to channel that anger into passion. But for the time being, he needed to convince her to marry him, if only to avoid a war.
“Think carefully over your decision, lass,” he warned quietly. “Do not let your pride dictate the future of your clan, for your father would start a feud over you.”
Jocelyn’s hands balled into fists, and he could tell she was fighting off some kind of impulse, whether to run from him or slap him he wasn’t sure. He waited with a calm he didn’t feel. Sweat was gathering at the small of his back, where it itched uncomfortably. His eyes were beginning to burn from the effort of trying to keep up with the conversation, and the wind blew a strand of his long, black hair across his mouth. But he held his stance, determined to wait her out. If nothing else, he would leave this encounter with his pride intact.
Her shoulders finally sagged in defeat. “Fine,” she mumbled. She turned away from them all and seemed to fold into herself, her small form becoming even smaller. He hated seeing such a spirited lass so crushed, but he hardened his heart against the feelings. She was only marrying him to avoid a blood feud after all, not because she wanted him for a husband.
Robbie took her elbow and led her to where the MacKennas’s priest was waiting. There, in the cool shadow of the forest, Robbie said the vows that would tie him to a lifetime with Jocelyn MacKenna.
Chapter 5
Tears welled up in Jocelyn’s eyes as she said her vows around a tight throat. She was effectively ending her life with these words. She would be living, of course, but it would be just a shadow of the life she wanted. She would be relegated to a life of breeding child after child.
But she could not, could not, be the reason her clan started a blood feud. She cleared her throat when the priest indicated it was time to accept Robbie as a husband. She refused to cry in front of anyone, much less his two brothers who had insulted her so boldly. A whore. The idea was laughable. Why, she was old for a virgin, bordering on spinsterhood, really. And a liar? Well, they had her there, but they would lie, too, in her situation, she was sure.
Jocelyn peeked up through her lashes at the man standing next to her. He was pale, and his lips were still set in a hard, grim line. She remembered the vulnerable, naked expression in his eyes when she’d fussed over his arm back in the stream. His flinch when she had kissed his scar.
Then she hardened her heart against him, reminding herself he was in this situation because he had contracted for her hand. He was as bad as her father for treating her as noth
ing more than chattel, for assuming her life was good for nothing more than breeding children and servicing him in bed.
Jocelyn vaguely heard her intended mumble his own vows, sounding remarkably unenthusiastic. If she were honest with herself, she could admit he had every reason to sound so halfhearted. She had run away from marriage to him and then repeated the rumors she had heard about his wife right in front of him.
Given the way the rumor she had started about herself had spread like wildfire, she should know not to listen to everything she heard in the village. But then again, she had never tried to correct the misconceptions about her since they always seemed to work out in her favor. Surely if Robbie was innocent of murdering his first wife for not being pure on their wedding night, he would have tried to put a stop to the rumors.
Her ears perked up as the priest declared them man and wife. It didn’t matter now if she believed the rumors or not. She was bound to him for life. She lifted her head to stare at the priest and felt herself blanch at the priest’s next words. “It is now time for the bedding ceremony.”
Her head spun and swore all the blood in her body pooled into her feet and she began to sway. She was on the verge of fainting for the second time in the course of twenty-four hours. She was disgusted with herself for acting this way but they really expected her to seal her vows out here in the woods?
Robbie put an end to her fear with a quick snarl. “There is no way in Heaven or Hell I will take my new wife out here on the hard ground in full view of my men and anyone else who may be around. The ceremony will have to wait until we are back at the keep.”
Jocelyn sighed and felt the relief coursing through her like waves crashing on the shore. She met her new husband’s eyes, intending to express her thanks but shrank back at the look on his face. Robbie looked like a man possessed. His skin was still pale, and he had broken into a sweat, despite the coolness of the day. He looked positively sick at the thought of bedding her, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful or insulted.