Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3)

by Veronica Wilson

  He stood up, and Tess hoped she did not look as pained as she felt at seeing the sealed and healing wound across his chest. Male beauty such as Rendar's should not be so marred.

  "Tess!" he called, welcoming her and holding out his hand.

  Tess took his hand and felt the warmth of his greeting. Feeling the strength of his grasp set her misgivings about his injury at ease. "Rendar," she said, "I'm so happy to see you again."

  "And I am most pleased to see you, Tess. Especially here and now, when we are not a leader and a diplomat but only two friends."

  A new flash of warmth went through Tess at hearing him speak about them this way. She very much liked the idea of being Rendar's friend.

  "I'm glad you're looking so well," she said. "That cut looked so awful the last time I saw you."

  Smiling, Rendar passed his hand along the sealed wound and showed no discomfort. "I was only cut deep enough to draw blood." His smile diminished somewhat as he added, "Other wounds, I fear, are much deeper. Godan and his boy—the events of the duel will shadow their days for a long time to come. I am sorry for them."

  "I think it was generous of you not to take any actions against them for what the boy did," said Tess. "Even after what he did to me—and tried to use my life against you—he was a boy in pain, acting out."

  "It is true," Rendar agreed. "His mother is gone, and at my hand. He grieved her loss and feared for his father. To make reprisal against them would only place grief on the shoulders of grief. There has been grief enough, I think." He brushed a thumb over his wound. "We all must now heal. My tribe and Godan's may now live, if not in true peace, then at least without hostility. And Konel's children will have the opportunity to do better than we."

  A smile of the deepest admiration lit Tess's face. "You really are a natural leader," she said.

  Rendar returned the same look to her. "And you, who acquitted yourself so well under threat—skilled diplomat that you are, might there not be something of the warrior about you after all?"

  Tess chuckled and waved off the idea. "Me? Oh, no, thank you. I'll stick to conflict resolution over a bargaining table."

  "A setting where you are more than formidable," Rendar grinned.

  They admired each other in silence for a moment. And it was a genuine admiration, born of respecting and liking one another as people, of accepting their differences in culture and their common ground as individuals. An admiration of truly liking one another, as they had felt all along. And it was this liking more than anything else that prompted Tess, on a pure impulse, to dismiss their positions as tribal leader and diplomat long enough to put her hands on his bare shoulders, reach her face up to him on tip-toes, and place a very fond kiss on his cheek.

  She pulled back from the kiss, startled and dismayed at her impulsiveness as her training in protocol and etiquette came rushing back to her. She took a step back, put her fingers to the lips that had kissed him, and blushed. "I don't know why I did that," she softly said, blushing in tone as much as in face.

  Rendar's smile showed not a hint of offense. "Do you not, truly? I think this was a moment long waiting to happen, Tess. You are wise and kind. This moment was meant to be."

  "I'm relieved you think so. It seemed like a bit of a breach of boundaries. I wouldn't have been surprised if you asked me to go after that."

  Rendar shook his head reassuringly. "I do not wish you to depart. For us there should be no boundaries. I wish you to remain as my personal guest. My most personal and private guest."

  Tess's eyes widened and her breath felt hot at the implication. Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you sure?"

  Her hot breath turned suddenly cold with surprise at what he did next. With one sure gesture, Rendar took down his leggings and let them rest in a silken heap at his feet, exposing the mighty, muscled pillars of his legs—and the column of quickly hardening flesh under the dark bush of hair between them. And a column it truly was. Veined and foreskinned, it was an erect and throbbing monument to desire.

  "I am more than sure," said Rendar. "I would reward your kindness with favors of my own. I have thought much of you, Tess; of your service and your help to my tribe, of the courage and strength you displayed at the duel, of my fondness for you. Will you not have the pleasure of my body and my zazansa? Will you not come to me, and to my bed, and let us taste of one another and let me lie upon you now?"

  There was no room for negotiation now. Tess had only one answer to Rendar's nakedness. Her own clothing went the way of any further inhibitions, and they took their mutual nakedness to the inviting softness of Rendar's bed.

  It began as all such things must, with the simple delight of discovery in kissing and touching. Sitting up together on their knees on the bed, face to face, body to body, they set their hands and lips free to further the acquaintance of their hearts. Rendar's lips sweetly enfolded Tess's, showing her the tenderness and caring underlying the warrior's strength. His lips and tongue traveled down her neck and over her shoulders, showing her the fondness that until now he had shown only with words. Touching became a language of its own, a language underlined by the roaming of their hands along one another's bodies. Tess found it delicious that Rendar's hands, so skilled in wielding weapons and pummeling opponents, could be so surprisingly soft. That softness now cupped and squeezed her breasts and teased her nipples, and reached down and around to embrace her bottom with fingers like steel jacketed in velvet.

  Only the joy of her own hands on him surpassed the feeling of his on her. The same velvet-coated steel of his hands greeted her touch on Rendar's shoulders and chest. She massaged the muscles of his shoulders, making her fingers tense and release and drawing a heat of pleasure out of him. Then she gave the same service to his pecs, which were like twin continents of flesh covered with fields of hair, and his nipples, like hardened peaks upon the continents. Rendar sucked at Tess's mouth, encouraging her to discover more. Her hands dove far down below to grasp the warrior's club, a weapon designed to strike ecstasy, not punishment, into the body that received it. And a club it was, as thick and massive as it was hard. It strained at her stroking touch like a steed pulling against his reins and ready to gallop. Behind the straining steed lay a large, round, soft carriage containing two passengers bearing a liquid gift meant for Tess alone. She cupped the sac of his briole and gently squeezed it, telling him that she was ready for his gift, every drop that he had to offer.

  Rendar let his lips part from hers and broke their embrace, only to lie spread out in all his naked warrior's glory before her. He took his club in hand and made it stand at attention like a soldier before her. "Please suck my zazansa," he requested.

  Tess did not hesitate. At once she was down between his legs, her tongue returning his soldier's salute. She licked his piece up and down and swirled her tongue over the head that protruded from the foreskin, and savored the salty taste of the stickiness flowing freely from it. He bucked his crotch into her face and let his erection slide up into her mouth, over her tongue. Tess steadied herself and him with a hand on the hard plates of his abdomen and held his huge length in her mouth, making him give a groan that was like a war-cry of raw sex. At this, Tess began her oral inspection of his soldier in earnest. She slid her mouth up and down over it, showing Rendar with one part of her what she so wanted him to do with another part. His continued groans of increasing pleasure spurred her on. She sucked him deeply, taking the head of his tool all the way back to her throat, and made him writhe on the bed grunting curses of delight in an alien tongue. With every pull and slurp of her mouth, Tess called her mighty warrior to the final battle that yet lay before them.

  As if on cue, Rendar reared up on his elbows, put one hand under Tess's chin to lift her face and pull his zazansa glistening wet from her mouth, and said into her euphoric expression, "Lie down for me. I cannot wait to shadaal you a moment longer."

  Tess obeyed this commander of her heart and body, and spread out on her back for him as he had done for her. With as quick an
d decisive a movement as when he pulled down his leggings and showed her his artillery, he now climbed atop her, deployed himself between her legs, aimed, and fired into her wetness.

  Tess cried out, "Ooohhh...!" at his first hard, savage thrust. Lying atop her and pinning her to the bed, Rendar took her with a strength and ferocity to match the tenderness of his earlier touches. Her entire body felt as if it would burst from his hard, fast, deep penetrations, and Tess knew that she had just become a most willing territory, submitting joyously to conquest.

  Rendar's sweet curses of bliss mixed with Tess's sounds of rapture as he pounded relentlessly inside her, demanding her unconditional surrender, receiving her passionate submission. His thick and straining hardness plundered Tess's drenched and yielding depths, claiming her more and more with each slamming beat. Rendar threw the full force of his massive muscles into every thrust, bombarding Tess with the ecstasy that only a body like his could give, stretching and filling her womanhood with every blast of his manly cannon. It was all she could do to hold on tight and take his relentless pounding, focusing her entire being on what was happening deep inside her with Rendar's zazansa ramming into her again and again. It was the most maddeningly wonderful thing she had ever known.

  Humping her furiously, Rendar came up on his elbows atop her and burned a look of unbridled need into Tess's face. He grunted and puffed down at her through clenched teeth, and she could sense that his moment to deliver his final payload into her womb was upon them. With a last grunt and puff, he slammed himself all the way into her and roared, "SHADAAL...UUUHHH...!" And Tess could almost swear that she felt the bomb-burst of seed into her depths. Rendar held his full length into her and ground his crotch against her mound as if to wring every last drop of it from his briole. He held the two of them together for what seemed a moment poised on the brink of forever until at last he relaxed and fell atop her, having conquered both Tess's body and his own warrior's need.

  They were hardly aware of Rendar rolling off of her and to one side. The next thing they knew, they lay together facing each other, Tess fondling his zazansa while he did the same for the pulpy little trigger nestled in her folds down below. His thumb worked at her, flicking her own wetness from her dripping petals onto her nub, bringing her along with every passing stroke to the moment of her own release. When it came, it was another war-whoop inside her, a rising exultation of joy at her territory now being completely under his control. With a tingle of satisfaction racing through her body, Tess accepted her warrior's terms completely. But when Rendar slipped his fingers deep into the passage that he had now claimed as his own and captured her lips in another kiss, Tess knew without a doubt that the sweet sexual battle of their bodies had only begun, and that Rendar would continue to ravage her womanhood and make her love it for many more hours, on into tomorrow and beyond. She had no choice but to continue surrendering. She was the happy prisoner of his desire.

  With Tess in his bed, the warrior, now leader of his tribe, would be hard pressed to do any actual leading for the time being, while he went on pressing himself inside the diplomat. This was one battle in which there were no enemies and the laying down of weapons was not to be desired.

  THE END

  Protected by the Highlander

  Scotland, the side of a mountain.

  Spring, 1763. Noon.

  Visibly annoyed, Elizabeth couldn’t help but stare out the window of her coach.

  “Can this carriage not go any faster?” She lifted her head upward as she spoke to the coachman.

  “Not here, it can’t! This isn’t England, milady!” The man answered without giving her as much as a glance. The beautiful Elizabeth wasn’t used to not being stared at, but this time it was a welcome change of pace.

  “These are the highlands of Scotland! We’ll be lucky if we get anywhere without losing a wheel or tipping over!” He spoke again, as if spurred by her silence.

  “Well, that is just marvelous! For the money I’m paying you, you should find a way to work around it!” She said, now observing the scenery rather than the man. The surrounding mountains appeared beyond harsh, yet possessed a rough kind of beauty. The kind of beauty she didn’t know existed up until then. Too bad the coachman isn’t half as amusing.

  “And the amount of money you’ve offered is the sole reason I even took this job, milady! Besides, I wouldn’t worry about speed as much as safety out here!”

  Safety? “Just what are you referring to?” She asked, her gaze turned back toward him now.

  “The highland is a dangerous place, love! And when I say that, I mean more than the scenery!”

  “Be more specific, please! The natives? Local wildlife? What?” She could feel her fingernails bite into her palms as she spoke. This man is beginning to annoy me.

  “All that, and more, I’m, afraid! Otherwise, people would’ve jumped at the chance of transporting you over the border! Have you ever thought about that, milady?” Hints of a smile could be detected in the man’s voice.

  “Oh, I’ve thought about a great many things, good sir. Enough to make me undertake this trip, after all. You think I’ve made this decision lightly?”

  “Indeed I do. But what do I know? I am just a coachman after all, milady. And respectfully, no matter how much thought you’ve given this, it couldn’t possibly have been enough. There’s the rest of the world, and then there’s Scotland. In my own experience, the two don’t mix. At all.”

  “I see,” was all she could say after a few moments of contemplation.

  “Say, would you mind sharing your reason for coming here, milady?” He interrupted the silence.

  “As a matter of fact I would, if you do not mind. It is my business, and it would please me if you stayed out of it,” she replied in an annoyed tone. He may know his trade, but I do not like this man one bit.

  “Too bad. Sorry to bother you, then. Must be one hell of a tale!”

  “You are forgiven. Just do not do it again, please,” she said as she retreated into her cabin, pulling her long blue sleeve behind her so it doesn’t stay outside. The scenery was indeed breathtaking, but the man had reminded her of unwholesome things, and she felt like being by herself. A hell of a tale, he says. She laughed grimly. Perhaps it is. For me, it was more ‘hell’ that tale, though.

  It was only two days ago that she had made the fateful decision. Her lands, title, even the money that by all accounts should have been hers; she would leave it all behind and flee into the unknown. Everyone else would kill a chance to be in her shoes. Me, I would rather kill myself than do what was expected of me.

  She sighed, pulled out a mirror from the large purse to her side, and observed her reflection. A beautiful, heart-shaped face. A pair of sizeable, almond-shaped eyes parted by a small nose. Beneath it all, full, sensual lips the color of natural red. And finally, that beautiful visage was crowned by a full head of waist-length blond curls. Everything worked in tandem with her sky-blue dress, producing a figure of angelic, feminine beauty. Yet it all amounts to nothing, she mirthlessly said, placing her mirror back in its place. It matters not at all when I am to be married to that… that fop! She found the word difficult to articulate, even within her mind. She had heard of the expression in the past, but didn’t know full well what it meant. Until she met her betrothed, that is.

  Painfully thin and weak of chin (albeit his nose more than compensated), the young William Guilford had to use generous amounts of make-up and expensive clothing in order to make himself appear presentable. And it didn’t help him all that much. What little he said, Elizabeth wished that he hadn’t, and his body language was painful to watch. I know that you are rich and come from a great family, William! No need to stick it my face like that! Even though the prospect now lay behind her, she couldn’t help but get angry. Once again, she buried her fingernails into her palms.

  I had no other choice, she thought as she conjured up the memory of herself stealing a hefty amount of money from her mother’s room while the woman w
as in one of her stupors. She had no idea how to do it, but one thing was certain: for as long as she remained in England, she would not be free. Where there is civilization, there are Cornwalls, her father would always say. She took it to heart. Scotland was supposedly a wild land, populated by unkempt savages, or at least so she was taught. Let us see you find me here, in the highlands! she taught as she smiled in her coach, her mind back in the present.

  Still, perhaps I should have taken a hint and reconsidered this… She remembered how less than keen the coachmen for hire were, even after she had unfastened her bag and shown them her pounds. Only the man up there wanted to take me, and even he had been reluctant. For a while, she stared at the floor like that, lost in her own thoughts.

  Oh, well. What’s done is done! she reminded herself of the finality of her decision. She was well on route toward the closest highland city, as she had told the man. He had told her that it was a place called Oban. There was no turning back.

  She laid herself back, feeling liberated. There was no way to tell what was going to happen next, but she was free. Free from William and from the gilded cage her family had prepared for her. Who knows? With the amount of money I’ve… borrowed, I might be able to create a good life for myself, she reassured herself. And with that thought, she drifted into a light sleep.

  Later?

  Being less than comfortable, and light of sleep as well, it didn’t take much for Elizabeth to be roused from her slumber. The coachman was yelling something, although she couldn’t quite make out what it was. Does he not see that I do not wish to be disturbed? She sluggishly stuck her head out the window, preparing herself to reprimand him. When she saw what was happening outside, she immediately wished that she hadn’t.

  Oh, by the Lord, no! she silently exclaimed. The carriage was suddenly surrounded by several dozen men that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Muscled, hairy, and adorned in wear that she had never seen before, they did not seem pleased to see these interlopers. Are those… skirts? The coachman tightened his rears in an attempt to make the horses stomp over the first two men that were in his way. He was about to say something too, when an arrow pierced through his neck and stayed there.