by Rue Allyn
Their mouths fused, he rolled off her, keeping her pressed to his side. The pressure she craved lessened then his hand found her most private flesh and strummed the nubbin there.
Her body nearly leapt from the bed, but his fingers moved away. She wanted to weep, but he’d promised to take care of her, of everything. Why wasn’t he?
His fingers returned, pressing delightful strokes, leaving to circle and tantalize, then arrowing straight for the knot of need and longing. The advance, retreat, advance, retreat went on and on. Would it never stop? Please, would it never stop. She writhed. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the swell of her breasts, murmuring words made incomprehensible by her need. Her hips followed where he played.
“Please,” she begged.
“Aye, muirnean, you shall have it now.” His lips possessed her mouth, tongue plunging at the same moment his cock drove forward and penetrated her center while his thumb pressed the throbbing knot.
Her body arched, she cried into his kiss, and her mind shattered. Pulsing sensation, fever-pitched pleasure became her world. Naught was left as she flew higher and higher. She lost all sense of time, place, and self.
She became aware of Colin cradling her body, kissing her cheeks, stroking her breasts and murmuring meaningless words.
“Wha . . . what did you do to me?”
His hand stilled on her breast. “Nothing you didna wish, muirnean, and everything that felt very good, I hope.”
She opened her eyes, staring at him. “You dinna know?”
In the gathering dusk, he grinned. “Oh I know, but some women dinna understand that what we shared feels very good indeed.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I dinna think I like this talk of other women,” she said, still too scattered to guard her tongue.
His grin broadened, but he bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I understand. Just tell me that you like it.” He raised his head. The grin was gone and in its place, a pleading look that claimed her answer was utterly important to him.
Somehow, she’d gained a possible hold over him. “It was well enough.”
He placed his hands on her waist. Remembered caresses flooded through her as his hand smoothed across her belly. Sweet Mary in Heaven, if her pleasure held power over Colin, how much power over her could he wield if he knew how strongly she liked his caresses? She couldna let him know she had such a weakness. In fact ’twould be better if she never touched him again, for that way lay disaster. She nodded to herself. She would have to be very firm with Colin about her decision to keep him at a distance from now on. He would try to change her mind, but she could nae allow that to happen. She would find some way to remind him that she wished naught to do with him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pounding on the door woke Sorcha. She pushed herself up from Colin’s chest where she had tumbled into safe, exhausted slumber. “Who is it?”
“Ignore them,” Colin mumbled. His mouth found her breast and sensation tugged at every nerve ending.
“’Tis Sir Robert Clarwyn, my lady. I’ve come to escort you to dinner as you asked.”
And so the play begins. Colin and she must appear to be at odds with each other, and Robert had agreed to play the part of suitor.
Colin kissed his way up her chest to her chin, and one hand wandered to fondle the tender flesh at the apex of her thighs. “Tell him to come back later.”
“I will be but a moment. Please wait.” Sorcha wanted naught more than to linger abed with Colin and make this interlude last an eternity. Alas, ʼtwas not to be. She shoved at his shoulders. He fell back to the bed in mock defeat. “This is what we planned, Colin. We canna back out now; we will never find the spies and those letters from France.”
“Aye.” He turned his head and placed his forearm across his eyes. “What cruel fate that duty must come before loving.”
His other hand fondled her breast, making her task twice as difficult. For she would much rather stay here than flirt and tease with Sir Robert. Nonetheless she steeled herself and pushed Colin away. “Churl. Leave me be so I may dress and do what must be done.”
He grinned up at her, eyes pleading. “Aye, muirnean. Give me but one last kiss and I’ll release you to your other lover.”
She scrambled from the bed before she could yield to temptation. “Nae, one kiss would become twenty, and neither of us would leave this bed before the morrow.”
He pouted. “’Tis my greatest desire to lie abed with you today and tomorrow.”
“Nae now.”
She washed then hurried about the room donning her clothes and pinning up her hair.
“My lady?” Robert’s voice came from beyond the door. “Shall I return later?”
“Nae, Sir Robert. I just need a wee moment more.”
Colin lounged on the bed naked, hands crossed and pillowing his head. His chest rose and fell, sending his muscles rippling. His hips framed his hardening cock nestled in dark reddish hair. His arms flexed, as if he were undecided whether to reach out for her or let her go. His mouth grinned and his green eyes gleamed with mischief.
Distracted, she fumbled with her ties. “You are doing that apurpose.”
“What?” He raised his brows and widened his eyes in innocence.
“Displaying your nakedness in hopes that I am fool enough to be tempted.”
He smiled. “Never a fool, muirnean. You are the wisest of women and dedicated to every promise you make. I thank you for being sensible.” He rose and, magnificently naked, strode toward her with arms outstretched.
“Nae.” She raised a palm to ward him off and backed toward the door. “Go back to bed, I beg you.”
“But I must dress, so I can join you at dinner and show Robert my most jealous demeanor.”
“Dress when I am gone.” She reached the door, turned, and opened it. “Sir Robert. How kind of you to escort me to supper.”
“’Tis my pleasure, Lady Strathnaver.” He bowed then offered her his arm. He grinned, his gaze fixed at a point beyond her shoulder.
She followed the direction of Robert’s glance to see Colin. He’d managed to wrap a coverlet about his hips but stood arms folded across his chest, a glare pointed straight at Robert. Colin had no need to act the jealous husband now. Could he truly be angry with Robert for helping in this way? Or was Colin simply concerned with prying eyes and ears?
True jealousy could cause problems when the time came for her to leave.
• • •
Colin watched the door close on his wife then struggled to contain his emotions. How can she leave our bed for Robert’s seductive attentions? He knew how, and why. He’d encouraged the plot and chosen Robert to play the part of Sorcha’s supposed lover. He’d seen Robert’s passion for and dedication to his wife, Juliana. However, knowing didna make the experience any easier. He wanted to rip Robert’s head off and feed it to the pigs. The man’s grin had been both knowing and challenging at the same time. If this was what getting tangled up with a woman was like, Colin was nae certain he wanted any part of it. Whores were a lot less trouble.
He opened the window and stood in the cold breeze for long moments, trying to cool his ardor and his temper. When he thought he had himself under control, he dressed and descended to the great hall where Sorcha sat above the salt, reigning over all with Robert by her side. Colin watched for a moment before he entered the room. He had a wee surprise for his fake wife.
He shouldered his way between Sorcha and Robert. Without acknowledging his friend, he grasped his supposed wife’s chin, tilted her head upward and planted a searing kiss on her slightly open lips.
He heard the snickers, then cheers, grow and fade until silence reigned as the kiss went on and on. Had he nae been intent on making certain she felt the inheritance ring pressing into her delicate skin, he might have lost himself in the kiss. ʼTwas Robert’s tapping on his shoulder that caused Colin to break the kiss.
“Ahem, my Lord Marr. Your people wait for you to begin the meal.” Robert gesture
d to the silent folk below the salt.
To maintain the pretense of tension between them, Colin glared at Clarwyn then moved to sit at Sorcha’s other side. “My people will be happy to wait on my pleasure.”
“Aye, husband, but we are all hungry.” Sorcha’s voice shook a bit, even as she turned a speaking gaze on Robert to suggest she shared a special hunger with the knight.
“Stepson,” Lady Agnes shrilled and grabbed Colin’s hand. “Where did you get such a beautiful ring?”
He removed his hand from her clutching fingers.
“’Tis the Marr inheritance ring. It has been in my family for generations and is worn by the person who owns all of Clan Marr’s property—usually but nae always the earl. I am surprised you dinna recognize it. My father wore it every day of his life.” Colin spoke to Lady Agnes but watched Sorcha.
From the corner of his eye he saw Lady Agnes pucker up. “The earl never wore it during our marriage. ʼTis the first time I’ve seen this ring.”
Colin snorted.
Lady Agnes put a hand to her throat and turned a bit green. ʼTwas precisely the sort of reaction he would expect from a thief confronted with evidence of her crime. However, he’d found the ring nae in his stepmother’s bed but Sorcha’s.
His faux wife took his hand and studied the ring. “Husband, I am delighted to know you recovered this treasure,” she said coolly. “I remember when you told me it had been stolen.”
St. Andrew, she was calm. Nae a tremor in hand or voice betrayed her perfidy. And she’d covered for him with Lady Agnes by using the stratagem he’d thought up and forgotten.
Robert placed a hand on her shoulder and peered past her at the jewel.
Colin glowered at him.
The knight swallowed, removed his palm from Sorcha, and sat, all in rapid succession.
Sorcha gave Colin back his hand and turned to whisper in Robert’s ear, as if neither ring nor husband was of any importance.
“Lady Agnes,” Colin said with a barely restrained growl. “You’d best take your seat, I am about to order our supper brought in.”
She hurried away to the far end of the table where Henry and Sir Broc already sat.
Colin signaled for the meal to begin then looked at Sorcha, who still whispered with Robert.
“Sorcha,” he called.
He got nae response and frowned at being ignored.
“Lady Marr.” He spoke a bit louder and sharper.
Deeply involved in exchanging whispers with Robert, she failed to acknowledge her supposed spouse.
ʼTwas nae to be borne.
“Wife!” he shouted. “I would speak with you.”
Most of the talk in the hall ceased.
Slowly Sorcha straightened then turned. “Truly, husband, you’ve nae need to shout. I can hear you perfectly well.”
Colin felt his face heat. His fists clenched, and he leaned forward aggressively, putting his hand on her shoulder.
He might well explode from the anger and admiration tearing at him. With little effort on her part, she’d made him look the fool before all. ʼTwas what he wanted, was it nae? For his clan to believe him shackled to a straying wife. Aye, but she need nae belittle him in the process.
Sorcha glanced at him, brows raised.
He looked past her to stare warning daggers at Robert. “You must share my trencher, wife.”
Robert gazed longingly at Sorcha. “We will talk later, my lady.”
A gracious nod was his only reply, as smiling sweetly she turned once more to Colin. “Thank you for telling me our food is here.”
She reached past him and took a tidbit from the trencher then placed it in her mouth.
He wished he could be that piece of flesh and have her tongue all over him.
On her far side, Robert cleared his throat and lifted his mead cup in silent salute to Sorcha.
Colin glared at his friend. Little more than one or two additional dark looks were required before the entire hall buzzed with gossip about the countess’s infidelity and the earl’s anger.
“She’d best be careful. Lord Brice is nae known for his patience. Why, I heard that years ago, she did the same thing with the earl’s brother … ”
“I’ll be surprised if that English Clarwyn survives another week. I heard they fought over another woman when Lord Strathnaver was in England on All Saints’ Day.”
“Lord Brice may no have his full strength back, but I wager he kills the Englishman within two days.”
“And locks his adulterous wife in the tower chamber until he knows she’ll bear him a true heir.”
“Mother, is Lord Marr angry with Lady Sorcha?” Henry’s voice came from father down the table.
A slap sounded.
The answering silence was worse than childish howls.
“Leave this table until you learn better manners and can speak properly of Lady Marr,” said Lady Agnes. “Sir Broc, take my son to my chamber and punish him appropriately.”
The knight rose from his seat below the salt and came to loom over Henry. The boy stood, head bowed, and left with Sir Broc following.
“My lord,” Lady Agnes rose, “I beg you permit me to go to my son.”
Colin nodded. “Of course.” He felt sorry for the boy with a mother who could be bothered to slap but nae to lovingly instruct.
The conversation in the hall swirled and grew, some about Lady Agnes, but most spoke of Sorcha’s scandalous behavior, flaunting a lover before her husband’s face. Colin could do naught for Henry in this moment, but he would remove the lad from Lady Agnes’s less than tender care at the first opportunity. Focusing on his immediate task, he used the murmurs and sly looks to fuel a pretense of anger that was nae far from real.
After much too long, Sorcha tore herself from flirting with Robert and spoke in Colin’s ear. “You almost make me believe you are jealous, and certes the entire hall believes I’ve betrayed my vows. Perhaps ʼtis time to give them even more to talk about.”
For the life of him, Colin could nae escape the mire of conflicting emotions long enough to make sense of what she said. “What do you mean?”
“We should announce that Coillteach and MacBirnum journey here to celebrate our marriage.”
Colin’s lip curled in sarcasm. “Aye, ʼtwill cause a stir to announce celebration of a marriage already threatened with adultery.”
“That was our plan. Dinna let our playacting distract you from our purpose.”
“And I thought ‘ʼtwas you who was allowing herself to be distracted.” He could nae keep the words or his scolding tone to himself.
Her smile fell—just as it would if a husband accused a wife of faithlessness in public. “You play your part too well. ’Tis unjust of you to blame me if your clan believes what they see. You asked it of me.”
Colin flattened his lips and struggled not to show contrition. “You are right, muirnean, forgive me.”
She nodded.
“Nonetheless,” he continued, “I must keep up my overly successful pretense or draw doubt from all present, including any traitors. Bear with me as I make the announcement.”
Colin stood, calling for the attention of all.
Sorcha turned back to murmur in Robert’s ear. There was pretense and there was baiting. He’d nae stand for her crossing that line. Before she spoke two words, Colin jerked her to her feet, locked her in his arms, and plundered her mouth, staking his claim and challenging Robert in the most public way possible.
Robert placed a hand on the sword at his hip. Quiet murmurs rose from below the salt.
Sorcha tore herself from Colin’s grasp, cast a restraining glance at her supposed lover, and then turned back to Colin.
He smiled coldly, slipped his arm around her waist and fastened her to his side. Next he handed her a cup of wine and raised his own. “People of Clan Marr, I take great pleasure in announcing that we will be honored with a visit from two of Scotland’s Guardians, who have heard of the miracle of my recovery brought about b
y the even greater blessing of my marriage.” He gave his voice every bit of bitter irony he could muster. “Lords Coillteach and MacBirnum come to celebrate my marriage to the eldest of the seven MacKai jewels.”
The sneering mention of Sorcha’s family was a nice touch. Certainly it roused more mutters from his audience.
“For the good of Scotland, the Guardians take the occasion offered by this celebration to foster peace between MacKai and Marr. Thus I have invited my wife’s brother, Baron MacKai, and his most trusted warriors to join us and receive the blessings of both king and church on our union.”
Sorcha lifted her cup and drank. Robert followed suit, but Colin didna. Some of the onlookers held back, many drank but the discontent was loud.
“How can he ask that treud mhuc here?”
“Aye, Clan MacKai is a herd of pigs and doesna belong at Strathnaver among their betters.”
“We’ll be murdered in our beds.”
Tears brimmed in Sorcha’s eyes at the insults being shouted about her family. She cast Colin a pleading look as one tear spilled down her cheek.
Despite the anger brewing in his belly, Colin couldna bear the sight of her weeping even though he knew the tears were forced. He swept the gleaming drop away with a gentle thumb, stroked his lips over hers, and whispered, “Fear naught, wife, all will be well.”
To his clan he said, “’Tis long past time to end the feud and bitterness between our clans. I tell you this: for as long as I have the love and honor of Sorcha MacKai, I will keep peace with all MacKais. Their clansmen will be honored here as brothers and sisters, and any Marr who fails in that honor is no Marr to me.”
The shouts and hurled insults stopped completely, and his announcement was met was stunned silence.
“However,” he continued, looking quickly at Sorcha, “should I ever lose my wife’s love, nae pain will be greater for Clan MacKai than the vengeance of Clan Marr. This I swear before my clan and before God.”
A roar of approval rose, so strong it nearly knocked Sorcha from her feet.