A Lady's Vengeance

by Reece Butler

  He turned away, hating to admit James was right. At Girnigoe he was surrounded by men in velvet and lace while he had naught but his oft-mended shirt, plaid, and boots. They talked of things he knew naught about, sneered at his size and work-roughened hands, and cut him down when he couldn’t play words with them.

  “Is part of this dark choler of yours because Alana escaped William without you, so you feel you dinna deserve her?”

  “’Tis true!” Admitting it ripped another part of his heart open.

  “And you call yourself a man!”

  “I vowed to protect her, yet she was harmed!” His eyes roamed the fields, now empty as they waited for the spring. Would he even be here to plant? “The people of Keiss deserve a laird they can trust.”

  James snorted. “Ah, now I ken it.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. His sour expression made him look a lot like Somerled.

  “What?” demanded Cormac.

  “You are afeared.”

  Rage flowed through his veins, blasting everything in its path. “Dinna call me a coward! I will fight any man—”

  “You are a fool, Cormac MacDougal. Aye, you are brave when it comes to fighting with your body. What you fear is disappointing your lady, and your people.”

  Cormac couldn’t speak or move. He stared, fists tight and chest heaving in fury.

  “When we came here as lads we brought nothing but hunger and a burning need to prove we were more than ragged bastards,” said James quietly. “No matter what we did, it would be better than they believed of us. ’Tis different now. You are an important man, a laird married to the daughter of an earl. You have many people depending on you. If you fail, as you think you did when William’s men stole Alana, you believe they will turn from you. ’Tis shame you fear, that Alana will see you fail and look at you with disgust.”

  Cormac ground his teeth. He hadn’t known why he felt this way until his brother put it in words. Ugly words. Ugly, but true. Part of him would rather not see Alana again if it meant having her show her disappointment in him. What she thought of him mattered so much.

  “I wasna trained to be a laird,” he admitted.

  “So?” James's relaxed position mocked him. “Do you think the blacksmith’s son cares? What about those couples that married? All they care is that their laird saw a problem and found a way to fix it, a way that satisfied all. No Sinclair has cared for them afore. Not as people. They were there to make sure the earl’s needs were met. You willna disappoint them, not after what you've already done.”

  Cormac swallowed. It took him a moment as his mouth was too dry for spit. Somerled cared for their people. They all worked together to survive. Lairds Fraser and MacKenzie had hundreds of people to do their work, so led through others. The earl barely knew the names of his most senior staff. Cormac wasn’t sure the man even knew his own daughter’s name, or cared that he didn’t.

  He, James, and Alana could recite dozens of names of Keiss men, women, and children. He knew them on sight and was learning what each could contribute. He cared about them and wanted their lives to be better.

  “You are a true laird, Cormac,” said James softly. “One who cares for his clan over himself.” He pointed to the village, secure behind the wooden palisade they’d helped repair. “They dinna care we are bastards, or share our wife, their lady. They want a laird who works beside them, laughing. Who rules wisely. Who gives their lady bairns, and raises them well to become good lairds of their own. They want you, Cormac. And so does Alana.”

  He looked at his brother in anguish. “Does she?”

  “You willna disappoint her. Unless you act like a fool and grovel. She wants you to be strong. She wants to know, like pretty Eva with Davie the blacksmith’s son, that her man is strong enough to keep her, to protect her, and paddle her arse when she needs it. If you show her your strength she will respect you.”

  “We canna be tender with our wife?”

  “Aye, a man shows his true strength by those tender moments. But we canna let her think she has the upper hand or she’ll nay respect us. She’s a feisty, smart lass, so she’ll test us to make sure we will keep her from acting the brat. You are her laird and master. I gave her sweet loving this morn. You must show her the other side, and master her.”

  Biddy had told him a woman doesn’t always want a man to be gentle. That this was the safest time of her pregnancy for him to be carefully rough. His cock swelled at the thought of it. He’d been tender with her all along, though he’d wished to ravish her.

  “Aye,” he admitted. “’Tis time I showed our lady she has a master.”

  “Do you love Alana, with all your heart and soul?”

  “Aye, I do love her.” He realized he hadn’t admitted it to himself, but it had been true for a long time. He straightened his back. “I love Lady Alana Sinclair!”

  James grabbed his shoulder and shoved him along the path. “Tell her, not me! And then rip off her clothes and show her you mean it!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alana laughed when Mary missed her catch from Bessie and ran after the cloth ball. She picked it up, turned, and waved frantically. Alana turned, hoping…

  “Cormac!”

  She grabbed her skirts and ran toward him. He roared her name and ran, arms wide to enfold her. He caught her in his strong arms and lifted, twirling her in a circle. She felt so relieved she burst into tears. He set her down and held her at arms’ length.

  “Are ye hurt?” His eyes dropped to her belly, which seemed to have swelled overnight. “Did I squeeze our babe too tight?”

  “Nay, husband.” Her tears disappeared as quickly as they came. “I missed you, ’tis all.”

  “I’m home now.” He pulled her close again, holding her tight. “I have sommat to say to ye.”

  Her arousal rose at the scent and feel of him. She yawned, exaggerating it in case someone from the castle watched. “Mayhaps ’twould be best if we retired to our chamber.” Her hand “accidentally” brushed against his plaid and found its way under his sporran. He was hard. Her pussy clenched in response.

  “Aye,” he agreed, his eyes fierce. As soon as they faced the castle his hand clenched her arse, hard. “I missed ye, wife. Did ye have a good play with James?”

  Was he jealous? He didn’t seem angry. The opposite in fact. His hand slid over her thin gown and between her back cheeks, fingers imitating his cock. She blushed at her pussy’s eager response.

  “Aye. He was very…helpful.”

  “Took care of a few aches, did he?”

  “Aye.”

  He raised her hand to his mouth. Heat rose as he suckled her finger. His tongue flickered across her palm as he’d done so often across her clit. “I’ve been thinkin’ of your mouth on my cock.”

  Her pussy clenched. “Oh?” she asked, breathless.

  “And my tongue in yer pussy. I havena seen or even scented yer wee puss in days.” He nipped her finger, making her gasp. “I had a wee chat with Biddy the healer.” He lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at her with a mischievous look. “She asked if I was worried my cock wouldna fit with yer big belly. I said I kenned one would fit, but what about two?”

  “Oh, lord,” she moaned. “Did she condemn you?”

  “Nay, she cackled like a chook layin’ a golden egg.” He gave her a smoldering look that set her on fire. “There’s a few weeks afore we must be careful. Until then, my cock will fill yer pussy and arse when I wish it. Aye, and yer mouth as well.”

  She tripped over a blade of grass. “Oh,” she squeaked.

  “And when ye get near yer time I’ll plow my cock into ye from behind, with yer belly hangin’ down, like a stallion does his mare in heat.” He squeezed her hand, hard, as in warning. “Do ye understand?”

  She understood he wanted her body as much as she did his in return. James had spoken of love. She did not expect it from Cormac. He would show her by his actions, not his words.

  “Aye, husband,” she replied meekly.
/>
  He stopped, tugging her hand to bring her close. His dark eyebrows lowered in menace. She caught her breath. He was not James, the tender lover who’d cared for her so sweetly that morning.

  “I be yer husband, but I also be yer laird, and master. Aye?”

  He loomed over her, a giant of a man who could do as he wished with her. Heat bloomed from her swollen breasts with their tight, itchy nipples, right to her hairline. “Aye,” she replied, her mouth dry. She was breathing so fast she was dizzy. Or maybe it was his intense stillness that made her head spin.

  “Methinks ye need a bit o’ mastering so ye ken what I mean.” His eyes tracked over her, leaving trails of fire. “I been easy on ye, what with all the work for the harvest to do. Ye’ve seen the tender husband, and ye obeyed the caring laird. ’Tis time for ye to submit to yer master.”

  Her pussy gushed in need. She wanted to be taken hard by Cormac, to have him need her so badly he could barely hold back from ravishing her.

  She dropped her eyes and sank into a low curtsy. “I am your servant.”

  Cormac chuckled, the sound low and arousing. “Ye are more than that.”

  She tried to walk sedately into the castle as a lady should. She wished she could run up the stairs, Cormac roaring as he chased her. She had to follow his lead, however.

  “I brought a tray to yer chambers when I saw ye, laird,” said Cook with a curtsy.

  “Thank ye,” said Cormac “’Tis a long walk I’ve had. I’ll sup and then rest a wee bit.”

  “Bessie took Wee Mary to the village,” added Cook. “There’s an old grannie or two the lass can talk to about tatting lace. She’ll be far away for a wee bit.”

  “I shall have to thank Bessie, Cook.” He gave Alana a look that made her blush to her toes. “Come, wife. Attend to me.”

  He gestured for her to go up the stairs before him. Part of it was for safety as he would catch her if she fell. She was sure another part was that he liked watching her arse. She wished to tease him after his blatant display of ownership to Cook. She put an extra swing into her hips and was rewarded with a low growl.

  “Ye’ll pay for that.”

  “Mayhaps. If you catch me.”

  She lifted her skirts and scampered up the steps. She thought he’d roar and chase her, as in a game. Instead he stalked after her into their chamber. He quietly shut the door, instead of slamming it, then barred it. He finally turned to face her. She waited against the far wall, her entire body thrumming with desire though his actions confused her. She’d wanted him to chase and conquer, his blood hot, not stare at her coldly.

  He stood with bare feet wide apart, arms crossed, still and silent. The room had no exit, and no servant would dare interrupt. A trickle of fear made her uncertain. She’d never seen him so powerfully sure of himself. She was usually so self-assured, yet she bit her lip and curled her bare toes into the carpet.

  “Do ye agree I am yer laird, and master?”

  She hesitated, not sure what he wanted. He gave no sign, standing still and cold. They’d played many bedchamber games. This was not one of them.

  “Aye,” she replied, drawing out the word as she was not quite sure.

  “Tell me what ye ken of it.”

  “A laird is responsible for his clan,” she said, parroting what all children learned early. “All in the clan must obey him, or be banished, mayhaps killed.” She swallowed, watching him. He showed no reaction. “Though his wife may disagree with him in their chamber,” she added. His eyebrow twitched in response to that addition.

  “Do ye ken the difference between laird and master?” he asked.

  His eyes caressed her breasts and belly as if savoring a meal set before him. She shook her head, wishing to hear what he wanted to say.

  “The laird decides what is best for his clan. They work, and fight under his orders. His wife also obeys him, as a laird demands obedience from all in his clan.”

  He waited for her reaction, so she nodded. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He released his arms and took a slow step to the side. He circled, a predatory cat playing with his prey. Like a terrified mouse she could not move. His eyes, and the force of his being, pinned her in place.

  He stopped, close enough to touch, and waited. She quivered, her mind blank. He reached for her braid. He idly flipped the soft tip against his fingers. His eyes stared knowingly into hers.

  “A laird demands more from his wife than his clan.”

  Each word was slow and distinct. He curled his fist around her braid, gripping it like a rope. She felt a few prickles on her scalp, tiny pinpricks of discomfort. She waited, mindless, for him to explain. He leaned over her, dropping his voice to a whisper.

  “He demands she submit her body to him. When, where, and how he chooses.” He tugged harder. The prickles on her head hurt, yet aroused as well.

  “But, what of the servants—”

  “Who is yer laird and master?”

  She worried her bottom lip with her top teeth. Would he really take her in front of the Polly and Cook? The older women would likely keep working as if nothing was amiss, though they’d no doubt have to fight to keep back a smile.

  “Answer me, wife!”

  “Laird Cormac of Keiss,” she admitted.

  “And who owns yer wee clit, and yer pussy, yer arse, and the rest of ye as well?”

  “You do,” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he replied with great satisfaction. “And if I wish to lift yer skirts and take ye against a wall or over a table, or to have ye kneel afore me, mouth open under my plaid to suck my cock, ye will do it.” He dropped his dark head, staring at her intensely. “Ye will give yer laird and master what I wish nay matter where, how, or who may be watching. Aye, wife?”

  She stared at him, heart pounding in distress. Was he serious? His eyes narrowed to harsh points. He ground his teeth, impatient with her delay in answering.

  Oh, lord, he would really do it!

  “I am waitin’, wife. Do ye vow to submit to yer master?”

  Cormac’s low growl seemed to vibrate through her body. Her face and chest burned at the thought of anyone seeing them. Yet her pussy flooded for the same reason. Her mouth was dry from panting. She fought to swallow, to find enough moisture to speak.

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  “Ye will say ‘aye, my laird and master.’”

  He was testing her. Since she’d escaped on her own he needed to show he was in charge. Yet it was true. He was her laird, and master of her body. He really could do whatever he wished with her. He’d never harm her but, oh Lord, he would make her scream from his touch!

  She’d been alone for so long. She would not be giving in and giving up, she would be handing over burdens she no longer wished to carry. It did not mean she would never fight back. That game was part of who she was. They all liked a challenge, and she loved that he was so strong he could easily defeat her.

  “Aye.” Her voice trembled but it was strong enough to fill the room. “My laird and master.”

  A blaze of triumph lit his features. His lips bared in lust.

  “Good! ’Tis time my wife submits.”

  He tugged on her braid. She stumbled, having no choice but to follow him into the center of the room. He released her, stepping back to give her space.

  “Strip and kneel in front of me.”

  She pulled her braid over her shoulder, under her control. Moving seemed to have jarred her brain, allowing her to think again. What had happened to change Cormac from the playfully powerful man, to this overlord?

  “Why are you behaving like this? Are you still angry because I escaped William’s grasp without you?”

  Something flickered in his eye, then was gone. He had a new confidence. Powerful, yet not arrogant and uncaring like her father.

  “I was careful of ye while ye were in danger of William,” he said with quiet confidence. “I didna wish ye to think I was the same as him when I put my hands on ye.”

  “
William? You are nothing like him!” She shook her head. “I could never think of you that way, no matter what you did.”

  “Good.” His smug look of satisfaction became hard as he drew himself erect. “I gave ye an order. Strip and kneel.”

  She contemplated doing it. What she did now would determine the rest of their lives. Was she going to kneel meekly every time he went all lord and master on her? She would do so in front of their people. But this room held just the two of them. No one else would know what happened. She had stripped for him in the past, and had kneeled as well. But it had been playful, her wishing to please him.

  This time it was a demand.

  She’d feared her father and had gone out of her way to please Laird and Lady Fraser as they’d taken her in. But this was her home, her dower lands and her people. She no longer had to pretend to be what others wanted. The defiant little girl inside her, the one who’d wanted to know the why and how and had been beaten for it, had never been conquered. William had tried to break her spirit, and failed.

  A part of her wished to demurely remove her clothing and kneel before him. But Cormac knew Lady Alana Sinclair of Keiss would not submit to anyone without a fight. She’d bent her head in pretense to too many others in order to survive. Cormac had thrown the gauntlet down and would not back away. When she refused he would force her to follow his order. She knew he would not harm her, but how far would he go?

  Her heart pounded as excitement filled her. There’d never been a man more deserving of her submission, but he would have to prove it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cormac watched Alana closely. She could usually hide her thoughts but this was real, and raw. She played with the tip of her braid, flicking it between her fingers. He would use it, again, to keep her near.

  He was not a brutal man. What he was about to do would not be easy for him. As James said, Alana needed to believe, right to her soul, that he had the power to control and therefore protect her. She’d been ignored, cast aside as unimportant, though she had so much to offer. The praise he’d given her in the past had been sloughed off as she refused to believe him.