by Lisa Plumley
And he did.
His flesh slid into her, the moisture of her body easing its path. He lay over her, his face intense from his own building arousal, as he moved deeper and deeper within her flesh. Ever did he watch her, waiting for some sign he needed to stop, she supposed. Then all thoughts evaporated as he took her to the edge of release over and over before letting them, nay, pushing them to, both crash over it.
He toppled on her and then rolled them both to their sides, never letting her go. They lay in the silence, not speaking, as she listened to the pace of their breathing. A while passed as their bodies calmed and his flesh withdrew from her. But she would never lose the sense of awe or forget what he’d wrought within her during this joining.
No pain. Oh, as she shifted against him, she knew her body had been entered and filled, but the place there felt empty now. No pain.
He reached down and tugged loose the bedcovers beneath them. Pulling them up, he covered them and then rested his chin on her head and encircled her with his arms.
Sleep captured her then and she sank into a rest unlike any before. She was replete. She was emptied.
She was safe.
* * *
In the morning she could not remember how many times they’d joined. A touch of a hand. A kiss. Shifting bodies. Any small caress seemed to ignite the heat between them.
Cat remembered the second time, for Aidan drew it out in anguishing, slow strokes that made her cry out in need. Even when he entered her, he made her feel each moment of his flesh in hers.
The next time he took her, he stoked her arousal fast and hard until she screamed out her release.
Then....
She did not remember the rest for they faded into a sensual fog of excitement and release, torment and easing, touching and taking and possessing. He’d taunted her, teased her, caressed her, tasted her through the whole of the night. Even now, her body wanted to respond to even the memories of it all, but exhaustion prevented it.
So, how did one greet a man in the light of morning after a night of such abandonment and pleasure? When sleep finally gave up on her, Cat knew she must face the dawn and find out.
Opening her eyes, she found herself alone in the bed. Sitting up, she stretched, trying to ease some of the overused muscles and realising that Aidan’s youth and strength would wear out her older body very quickly. Laughing, she reached for her shift and found a clean gown to wear.
When she opened the door of the bedchamber, she found an empty room. Aidan was not there.
The silence surrounding her told her he was gone. Gone without a word to her. But a fire burned in the hearth, so he had at least thought of that.
She poured some water into a pot and put it on to heat. Her one luxury, the one thing she spent her pennies on that was not a necessity, was a special tea from the healer. The healer’s herb garden was the best in Lairig Dubh and she provided Cat with betony leaves that steeped into a wonderful concoction.
Taking out a leaf and crushing it into a battered metal mug, she poured the steaming water over it and set it aside to brew. With a drop of honey to sweeten the taste, she went looking for something to eat and found the oatcakes left from the day before wrapped in cloth. A simple way to break her fast, but she wanted nothing more this morn. Making her way not to the table but to the cushioned chair, she sat down and sipped the tea.
Her body, though not well rested, felt alive for the first time. There was not a place on her he had not touched last night. He’d pleasured her so many times and so much that she lost herself in it. She should be tired. She should be exhausted, but she was not. Truth be told, she wanted to run laughing along the lanes and share the joy she’d had with anyone who would listen. She wanted to tell Muireall that she understood now what she’d meant.
But she would do none of those things for to do so would make them all question whether or not this affair had begun before Gowan’s death. They would look askance once more, in spite of Aidan’s protection, and she could not bear that.
And now? Now what would she do?
Even the betony tea did not soothe the slight of his wordless leaving. Looking around the empty house, the truth struck her—this is how a man treated his leman.
No explanations, no excuses, no leavetaking. None of that was necessary when a man paid a woman for her time. He did not answer to her, but she did to him.
That stung even more.
Oh, Cat had accepted that he was not hers and would never be, but the truth of her circumstances was harder to ignore in the cold light of day. A night of passion spent did not grant anything more than that. Many questions turned over and over in her thoughts and the betony tea provided no clarity. She allowed herself only until she finished, before deciding that she would seek out Muireall and offer her help this day.
The sharp rapping on the door surprised her, for no one had come to call on her since she’d moved in just days ago. Walking to open it, she found a wee lad who stood there, holding out a flower torn from some bed.
‘The laird’s son bid me bring this to you and say...’ He paused, shuffling his feet in the dirt there and shaking his head as he whispered to himself.
‘What is your name?’ she asked, crouching down so she could look him in the face. His mop of red hair stood on end and a thick sprinkling of freckles on his face reminded her of the miller’s oldest.
‘Alasdair,’ he said, before returning to his whispered words.
‘Aidan MacLerie sent you here?’ Her heart lightened in that moment. Mayhap it was better than she thought? ‘He sent this flower?’ She brought the blossom, one that grew along the paths in the forest, to her nose to smell its scent. Aidan must have passed them on his way out this morn.
‘Aye, he did. And he said...’ His face filled with misery then and tears threatened to spill. ‘I have forgotten the rest, mistress.’
Catriona reached out and lifted his chin so he would look at her and not the ground. ‘You do remember the words, Alasdair. If you take a deep breath and let it out, the words will come back to you now.’
‘Do ye think so?’ His bright green eyes showed his doubt, but he shrugged and nodded. ‘I could try.’
Cat smiled and urged him to, knowing it was really just a way for him to calm down and then he might remember whatever message Aidan had sent to her. ‘Go on with you now. Try.’
With all the seriousness of a warrior going into battle, he sucked in a breath that filled his wee chest almost to bursting and then pushed it out with great force. So great a force that she nearly coughed in response. But she waited as the smile grew wider across his face and he nodded.
‘He said to bid ye to visit his cousin this morn. And he will speak to ye further on in the day.’
He let out a shout and jumped up and down, clearly thrilled with himself for carrying out his duty. She stood then and smiled at the boy.
‘I will tell Aidan that you carried out your task well, Alasdair,’ she promised.
She bade him to wait a moment and went into the house and found the last oatcake. Boys his age were hungry every moment of every day and he snatched it out of her hand with a quick word of thanks. He reached the end of the walk where it joined the lane and turned back to her.
‘Just call me if ye need a message sent back to the laird’s son, mistress. I am good at carrying them and will find him for ye.’
Wee Alasdair did not wait for an answer, for he stuffed the last bit of oatcake into his mouth and ran off, holding a penny in his fingers which Aidan must have paid him for his services.
The day grew brighter then, no matter the clouds that rolled overhead and threatened that the springs rains would fall. A smile blossomed on her face as she looked at the single flower in her hand.
He had left, but he had thought of her.
And he placed a tas
k before her—a reminder, a request more, that she visit Ciara and learn to read and write. Aidan said it would be hard work to learn her letters and numbers and she did not doubt that.
Now, though, with the possibility of a future ahead of her, she realised that knowledge and a skill like that could give her opportunities once Aidan married. So learning with Ciara could help her to be on her own. Right now, this morn, that felt right to her.
She finished dressing and went to begin a new part of her life then—one in which she could make decisions for herself. One that included some joy.
And one in which there would be a large measure of passion.
Chapter Thirteen
Aidan walked towards the keep, regretting with every step that he’d left without seeing her smile this morn. And though he had taken her without ceasing all through the night, his body ached for her even now.
Catriona was everything he’d hoped for in a lover even if her innocence in bedplay was clear. She opened to him and he brought her to release and to pleasure for what must be the first time in her life. Her body answered his every touch and he had so much more to show her. How it should be between a man and woman. How pleasure should be shared and should be for both of them. His blood surged and his cock rose in spite of how many times they’d joined all through the night.
Duty, his father, summoned him to his side this morn. When his parents left for his uncle’s wedding, Aidan would stand in his father’s place. And make judgements in his stead. Today, he would hear disputes and resolve them, just as he would once he took over control of Ord Dubh.
He passed through the gates and waved to the guards. When his friends saw him and followed, he wanted to sing out Catriona’s praises to them, but he held the words. Though ever eager to share stories of their prowess with each other, somehow, exposing her to them felt...wrong.
So, as they recognised the signs he could not seem to hide on the morning after a good bout of sex and asked for the details, he brushed them aside.
‘Just tell us her name?’ Angus said.
‘You are daft!’ Caelan said, smacking Angus on the side of his head. ‘Everyone knows who she is. He’s been after her for weeks.’
‘I was not sure which of the rumours spoke true of it, but I can tell from your stride that you have been well f—’ Angus stopped and changed the word when Aidan glared at him. ‘Well tupped.’
Aidan stopped then and looked at them. ‘Speak of this, of her, to no one lest Munro hears of it. And I will not have it said she dishonoured her vows before Gowan’s death.’
He needed them to know that truth. Something within him would not allow her to be shamed by his actions.
‘Munro kens of the house you gave her,’ Dougal said. ‘Everyone kens.’
Aye, everyone would know every move he made, that was the way of things. And what they did not, his father would anyway.
He’d counted on everyone knowing, to ease her way and to keep her safe from harassment. But he did not wish to speak of her openly with his friends. Not in the way they usually shared details of their conquests and their bedding of this woman or that one.
‘My father waits on me,’ he said, walking towards the keep then. ‘Do you wish to watch?’
Though the others strode off, not interested in anything but fighting and swiving or talking about doing those things, Young Dougal walked silently at his side into the keep. Dougal, unlike Angus, knew when to keep his mouth shut and Aidan liked that about him. Entering the great hall, Aidan found both of their fathers at the high table, though Rurik sat at one end while his father sat in the centre with his mother next to him. With a nod of his head, his father directed him to the other side.
The disputes heard this morn were not serious in nature, but they needed the chieftain’s wisdom and his support of whoever won the argument. One farmer claimed another had stolen livestock. A man asked approval for a marriage between his son and a woman from outside the clan. About ten matters in all needed to be heard.
He bowed to his mother as he walked up the steps and then took the seat next to his father. When he looked at Rurik at the other end of the table, the man’s gaze narrowed and then he nodded. A flurry of exchanged glances between his parents and Rurik ended with them all looking at him with some awareness in their eyes.
Did he wear the fact that he’d finally shared Catriona’s bed like a garment? The good thing was he saw no censure in their glances, but he suspected they would have words with him about it soon.
* * *
The morning passed slowly as villagers and men sworn in service and merchants came before the earl to settle their disputes. Though not with each, his father had asked for his counsel as much as he did his mother, so Aidan thought he must be meeting his father’s expectations. When the session was done, it was time for the noon meal.
As the servants prepared the table and then brought forth platters of cheese and roasted quail and other meats, his father called him to speak with him and Rurik. His mother was too busy directing the servants to notice.
‘So, ’tis a thing done then?’ his father asked him.
He did not pretend not to understand the question.
‘Aye.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the taller, stronger, older Rurik’s stance.
‘No matter that she has taken you to her bed, arrangements are moving forward for finding you a suitable wife. Think not to delay it because you’ve found a pleasing place between her legs.’
Anger filled him then, but he held it in check. So, his father thought this was no different than all the other women before her? He could not blame him or anyone else who thought this was the same as his past behaviour. But it wasn’t. He didn’t know how this differed, but it did.
‘I know my duty and she knows her place, Father.’
‘It is easy enough to forget once the chase is done and the quarry is in your grasp. Success in capturing what, or whom, you wanted and pursued at such a cost as she did can lead to a loss of control over your feelings, Aidan. Do not let yours run loose and unbridled.’
‘As I said, I know my duties and she her place.’
His father’s only reply was a curt nod, while Rurik grunted. Aidan knew not if it was in approval or something else.
His mother called them to table and Dougal joined his father there. They ate then, speaking mostly about their journey, who would accompany them and what tasks would be most important during their absence. All they waited on was for the warmer air to allow the snow in the higher passes to melt and they would be on their way.
All through the meal, his thoughts wandered to that house on the far side of the village. How had she looked when she awakened? Had her paleness been replaced by the rosy blush she wore as he pleasured her? Would she sink back into the demure, unassuming demeanour or would she remain the woman who boldly took her pleasure and screamed out her delight throughout the night?
Did his message arrive? The boy was so excited by the offered penny that Aidan wondered if he’d even heard the words he wanted said to Catriona.
Did she seek out Ciara for lessons this morn? Was this day like any other to her or had last night’s intimacies changed her?
‘Aidan?’
His mother’s voice broke into his thoughts. The silence around him let him know everyone noticed his distraction.
‘Aye, Mother. What did you say?’ A few deep chuckles down the table confirmed they’d all noticed.
‘Join me in my solar before you leave the keep, if you will?’
She rose then, as did everyone at the table, when the lady left. Others walked away then for all had duties to be seen to. With a word to Dougal that he would seek him out later, he followed his mother across the hall to the chamber she called hers. They entered and he waited until a servant poured wine into cups and served th
em before speaking.
‘How can I serve you, Mother?’ he asked, taking a sip of the wine and taking note of the shelf of books there.
‘Tell me about this woman you have set up in the village,’ she said. ‘I met her once under the worst circumstances.’
‘Why do you question this? I have had women in the past and you never raised a concern,’ he said. Drinking some of the wine, he turned to face her.
‘You have never arranged a house for any of them. That speaks of an ongoing arrangement between the two of you,’ she explained. ‘I am concerned because of the upcoming negotiations on your behalf.’ The same issue his father had raised. When he began to say that, she held her hand up and waved him off.
‘More than that, it makes me ill to think you are preying on an unfortunate with no choice in the matter. Taking advantage of her misfortune after her husband’s death to get her into your bed.’
‘What have I ever done that you would think me so cruel as that?’ he asked. ‘What has Father said of the matter?’ Anger at being characterised as someone low enough to do what she accused him of made his voice rise.
‘Your father said you are old enough to see to your own matters now.’ His mother walked to the table and put the cup down.
So, his father had warned her off, yet she still meddled. That was a weakness of hers and one she would never change.
‘And yet you trust me not to see to them?’ He placed his cup next to hers. ‘Be advised that the house I arranged is hers regardless of what happens between us. A settlement on behalf of her husband’s service to Father will make certain she is never in poverty again. Does that satisfy your concerns, Mother?’
‘Sometimes we defend the actions we take because we know they were for the wrong reasons. Or we sense our own mistakes, but are not ready to acknowledge them,’ she said quietly.
She approached him then, placing her hand on his arm.