Tall, Dark, and Medieval
Page 11
~~~~~
He laid her down and positioned himself between her legs. Beginning his sweet torture, Conall kissed her freckled cheeks and worked his way down her neck. Just by his kiss alone, Effie thought she would explode. How could one man make her body hum and crave his wicked touch?
Effie let go of the dangers that lay ahead and melted her worries away, surrendering to this moment, even though she knew it would be brief and might very well be her last night with the only man she had ever truly loved. She would relish this time they had together, commit it to memory.
Effie moaned as Conall caressed and suckled on her breasts, building up her arousal even further. As he kissed down her abdomen to her stomach, Effie’s body tensed, knowing where he was headed. Her hands plunged into his hair, holding on for dear life. Before he reached her patch of red curls, he kissed her bellybutton and looked at her. “Effie, ye’re a bonny lass and I love every inch of ye. I could kiss ye all day long and never tire.”
Effie panted in anticipation. Taking his time with her, teasing and exploring her body until she begged for release was something Conall had mastered very well. It was as if she was a dragon play toy and he wasn’t done playing with her by a long shot. Looking up at her, he wrapped one of her legs over his shoulder and flashed her a mischievous grin. “Is this where ye want me?” He ran his finger gently down between the folds of her womanhood, keeping his eyes locked on her. Then he bent down and flicked his tongue over her maiden’s pearl.
Effie murmured and shook her head back and forth. “Aye. Please, Conall, dinnae tease me.”
“Och, lass I assure ye I be no tease.” He bent his head down and began pleasuring her in ways that would make the devil himself blush, his tongue flicking, sucking and licking her until she could feel the trapped butterflies fluttering frantically inside her core waiting to be released. “Dear God, Conall,” she panted. She grabbed the furs on the bed, gripping them tightly, as her body was no longer hers to own. Her belly fluttered inside and she tingled all over as she succumbed to her release.
As she still hummed out of control from her orgasm, Conall slid up her body and kissed her neck. “Now where do ye want me?”
Effie wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his arse. “I want ye to stop talking and make love to me.”
With one hard thrust Conall buried himself to the hilt, deep. He moved within her slowly, making sure she felt every tantalizing inch of him. Fervently, he kissed her as he repeated his delicious assault by increasing his rhythm. Effie tilted her hips up and pressed them hard against Conall’s, reassuring him that she was begging for more. “Oh. God, Conall. Dinnae stop.”
Conall pumped her harder and faster and Effie matched his pace, thrust by thrust and lick by lick. Relentlessly, he demanded her body and soul to give him everything she had and she knew he wouldn’t stop until she surrendered to him. She was racing toward that blissful moment in time where she was completely content, fully sated, and truly loved.
Raging waves of passion rolled through their bodies; they were captured by the blissful undertow of orgasmic hunger, and dragged down deeper into a ravenous whirlwind of euphoria. The rushing storm struck hard and powerful, their bodies tensed and released as they succumbed together to its aftermath.
Moments passed and still they lay together, connected. Neither one wanted to let go, but the chill in the air made Effie shiver. Conall rolled off of her and slipped the blankets and fur over them. Pulling her in close, the warrior wrapped his strong arms around her. Effie had never felt more loved or cherished than she did right now, being held tight by the man she loved. She gave in to his embrace, laying her head on his chest.
“Ye know, lass,” he kissed the top of her head, “I could never tire of ye and I can no’ live without ye.”
Effie strained her head back and looked up at him. Her heart sank to her gut as remorse set in. She had to let him go. It was the only way to save him. Together they would never be free from Tavish’s wrath, he would always be there lurking. But letting go, he would be free and safe.
She would marry Sir Henry and move to England, and hope that one day Conall would understand her motives. If he had never met her, he wouldn’t be here trapped inside of a dungeon wrongfully accused of a crime, wounded and weak. She placed the blame on herself and she needed to right the wrong, but first she needed a plan to get him out of here.
Effie leaned up and kissed Conall sweetly on the lips. “Get some sleep, ye need to heal.”
“Effie, promise me you’ll stay away from Tavish and stay safe.”
“Aye.”
“And let me handle our escape. I dinnae want ye in harm’s way.”
“Conall, I –”
He tightened his arms around her, letting her know this conversation wasn’t up for negotiation. “Trust in me. Dinnae get involved. It’s too dangerous.”
Effie nodded her head yes, yet she knew she would deceive him. There was no way in hell she was going to sit back and do nothing. She would sell her soul to the devil if it meant Conall’s safety.
Silence fell between them and before long Conall slipped deeply into his healing sleep as Effie pondered the night away.
Their time had come to an end, yet she couldn’t make herself leave. She knew she’d already been gone too long, Consequences be damned, she would take the punishment, for she would never forget her last night with Conall. She couldn’t; it was all that she would have left to remember him by.
Shaking herself mentally, she peeked under Conall’s bandage to check the wound before she left. To her delight it was almost healed and so were the others. Good, he should be healed, ready to shift and fight for his life.
Effie quietly sneaked out of the bed and began to dress. Before she left she wrung out his tattered clothing and laid it next to the hearth to dry. Scooping up her basket, she made her way to the door. She turned back to look at her dragon sleeping peacefully one last time. Tears welled up, but in her heart she knew what she had to do. “Please forgive me,” she whispered.
Effie quit the hideaway chamber and made her way back to the dungeon corridor. She bumped into Neil as she closed the door behind her. Neil’s scowl told her all she needed to know. “I know this was no’ part of the deal, Neil. But he was hurt. I had to mend his wounds.”
Neil crossed his arms over his puffed out chest. “Lass, ye’re lucky that the guards are still passed oot. Now get to yer chambers.”
Effie presented a key and said, “I’ve marked the path. Make sure he makes it back to his cell.”
Neil took the key with slight protest and huffed, “I’ll see to the prisoner.”
“Neil, can I ask ye a question?”
Neil’s scowl deepened. “Aye,” he said in a frustrated tone.
“How many of yer men are still loyal to me father?”
“I would say a few hundred.”
“And these men trust ye?”
“They would fight to hell and back all in the name of Maxwell.” Neil’s brows furrowed with suspicion. “What kind of trickery be ye seeking, lass?”
Nonchalantly, Effie shook her head and said, “No trickery.” She leaned in close to Neil. “Ready yer men, Sir Neil. Justice is about to be served.”
~~~~~
Tavish turned to the hearth where a roaring flame violently flickered and cracked. The sweet sounds of muffled pleas soothed his dark soul like a salve to a wound, but this balm was foul to the core. Grabbing an iron poker, he placed the black tip over the fire until it glowed a vibrant red. Then he turned to face his victim.
Maggie, bound to a chair with rope, was trapped and naked from the waist up. Her hands were tied behind her and her feet were tethered together. Tears streamed down her face and her heart pounded against her ribs, as Tavish stood in front of her.
Inches away from her flawless skin, Tavish taunted her with the hot poker. “Maggie, sweet beautiful Maggie.” He clucked his tongue at her. “All ye have to do is tell me where me sister be?”
The poker lay a breath away from the valley betwixt her breasts as her eyes, wide with fear, watched the red tip as it came closer to her skin. With one touch, her skin melted away. Maggie screamed and bucked, frantically wriggling to be free, but Tavish continued to trail the poker down to her stomach, leaving a river of molten lava behind.
“I know ye know where she is. Ye two have gotten close since her return.” Tavish’s tone began to grow irate and louder. “Now tell, wench! Where’s Effie?”
Again Maggie shook her head no and pleaded for mercy. Her breath quickened and she shook when she saw Tavish take the poker back to the fire. This time he wasn’t going to waste his breath by asking the wench again. Nay, this time the torture was for pure pleasure.
Like the sick and twisted bastard he was, he began to brand her, starting at the top of the left breast and then down over her nipple, connecting with the line he had already inflicted. He repeated his assault on her other breast until he formed a W.
“Whore,” he spat.
At this point Maggie was barely hanging on to consciousness. Her head hung down in front of her; raven-black hair hid her face and stuck to her skin. Blood oozed from the blistered skin, enhancing the letter on her chest as if it was glowing red.
Throwing the poker into the hearth with frustration, Tavish ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. Damn it! Where is Effie? Sir Henry had been worried about her and had checked her chamber only to find out she wasn’t there. “The stupid whore is going to ruin everything,” he hissed. Making excuses all night for his sister’s absence was making him come across as untrustworthy, and Henry was not one to deceive. Finally Tavish convinced Henry that he would find her and of course nothing was to be worried about. He had everything under control.
Tavish took a seat in a dark corner of the room and waited. Sooner or later Effie had to return and when she did... well they would have a talk.
~~~~~
After making sure Neil had his instructions to return Conall, while in healing sleep, back to the dungeon, Effie made her way back to her bedchamber. She’d been gone too long and hoped she hadn’t been missed. Conall was healing now and had a chance to fight for his life and shift. Not that she was home free just yet; she had to convince him to leave here without her.
She’d wanted to tell him about the arranged marriage and that she planned to go through with it, but he would only talk her out of it. This was the only way she knew how to keep Conall safe. Do what her brother wanted and he would leave Conall alone. She would be out of his deadly grasp and living in England under the protection of Sir Henry.
Even though her heart ached, she had to make a sacrifice. It pained her deeply to know she was giving up the man she loved, but what other choice was there?
Aye, together they could find a way to escape but unfortunately, Tavish would always be there, tracking her down. It seemed that there was no escaping him.
As she pondered, she finally reached her bedchamber and opened the door. Shock and complete horror rocked her body as she witnessed the most gruesome sight she had ever seen; Maggie’s lifeless body tied to a chair. “Maggie!”
Effie raced to the young lass, afraid she was too late. She picked her head up and untied the gag from behind her head. To her relief Maggie was breathing, but her breath was slow and raspy. “Thank heavens ye’re alive.” As she swept Maggie’s hair back from her face, her heart stilled. Blistering trails marked her skin. “Maggie, dear God!” Bending down in front of her, Effie said, “Who did this to ye?”
From out of the dark shadows, something or someone grabbed Effie from behind. With one arm around her waist holding her still, Tavish twisted her hair around his hand and yanked her head back. “Where have ye been, whore?” he spat in disgust in her ear. “Sir Henry has been looking for ye. Said ye told him ye weren’t feeling well, but when he came to check on ye, ye weren’t here.”
Effie’s head was craned far back, making it hard to swallow. “I... was... in the chapel. Praying for da.” She knew her lie would hold true. Tavish wouldn’t dare step foot in God’s house, for the fear he would go up in flames, so her lie was safe.
Aggravated, Tavish shoved Effie toward Maggie and she landed hard on her knees. He stalked the room as fury consumed him. “Ye will not ruin this for me. Ye do see what happens when ye provoke me.” He pointed to Maggie’s branded body.
Effie scampered close to Maggie, waiting for the next blow. She had put Maggie in danger just like Conall, all because of her brother.
Tavish stalked over to Effie and leaned over her. “I know ye went to see the dragon,” he seethed. “I hope ye said farewell because he’s a dead man. Ye should have stayed away and not meddled in my affairs.”
Meddled? In his affairs? Effie grew heated and her spine began to straighten as she stood to her full height. “Conall is of no affair to ye. Ye’ve accused an innocent man of murder without a fair trial. Seems to me ye’re the one not playing nice.”
Tavish towered over Effie, yet she stayed true to her resolve, glaring back at him. “What are ye going to do, Tavish? Ye can no’ kill me, nor mame me with an iron poker. What would Sir Henry think of ye?”
Effie could see the hate rippling through him while he stared her down with nostrils flaring.
“I suggest ye leave before I inform Sir Henry of the dastardly deeds ye’ve inflicted on me friend Maggie. He would most certainly want a few words with ye, for this displeases me.”
Tavish raised his hand to slap her, but this time Effie didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, daring him to strike. His hand stopped in midair as if he had thought again about his reaction. Tavish pointed at her and scowled. “This isnae over, sister. I’m still yer chief.” With that said he turned toward the door and left the bedchamber.
Effie breathed in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Where had that courage come from? Was she daft?
With haste she untied Maggie, apologizing profusely. “Oh Maggie, I be so sorry.”
As difficult as it was Effie managed to get Maggie over to the bed and lay her down. Every time she touched the lass’s body, she cried out in harrowing pain. At this time, she wished Abigale was here. She’d know exactly what to do. “Maggie.” Effie brushed back her sweaty hair from her face. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to fetch the healer.”
Effie shut the door behind her and rushed down the corridor. “God, please help Maggie,” she begged. Maggie would be scarred for life because of her. She was innocent and in the wrong place at the wrong time. Effie vowed Tavish would pay. As long as her plan worked, payment would be made in full.
HIGHLAND STORM
CHAPTER TWELVE
If you wanted to know the local townsfolk’s deepest, darkest secrets, there was only one place to go where rumors and chatter flew freely from the mouths of the intoxicated. Where the men could be persuaded by cockish lassies selling their commodities for guarded information. Aye, an alehouse was the perfect place to start. Nestled strategically next to the barber, the alehouse was situated just outside Caerlaverock Castle, in a small village.
James the Black Douglas and Rory dismounted from their steeds and entered the stone-faced tavern. Once inside they split up. Rory mingled with the crowd as James took to the shadows, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings. Hooded and cloaked, James disappeared and blended into the tavern.
He removed his hood and sat down at a vacant table in the corner of the lively room to soon be approached by a ba
r wench. She slammed down a tankard and James watched her fill it with mead. “Make it two, lass.”
The wench smiled and obeyed his request. “Can I be of anymore service to ye?” The lass leaned in as she placed the tankard in front of James, showcasing her bosom.
James, being a man and having no choice in the matter, gazed upon her breasts then moved his gaze to her face. She was pretty and young; mayhap ten-and-eight, the same age Abigale was when they first met. “Nay, I’m a married man.” James took the tankard and vigorously drank the brew.
Not too long ago he would have taken the lass up on her offer, just to pass the night away and avoid his nightmares. Even now as he sat here eyeing the lass, the urge was there.
Flinging her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she teased the ends of the strands with her fingers. “Och, look around. No one here seems to mind.” She smiled.
Intrigued by her boldness, James half-cocked a grin. He reached in his satchel and pulled out a bag of coin and tossed it on the table. The blonde smiled as if she had done her job well and landed a man for the night; a sexy one to boot.
She reached for the bag but was abruptly stopped as James covered it with his large hand. “Tell me something, lass. Why are ye here selling yer soul to strangers?”
Her smile quickly turned grim. “I have no place to call me own. Mr. Dougal and his wife allow me to stay here and work for them but ’tis not enough for me and me daughter.” Disgraced, she looked down at her apron.
“Ye have a daughter?”
“Aye.”
“And what would yer daughter think of her mother selling herself for coin?”
The lass stood silent.
“And I am to assume ye have no husband?”
The lass looked up at James and shamefully shook her head. “No husband.”
“Ye’re a bonny woman and good mother for sacrificing yerself for yer daughter but ye can do better than this, aye?”