by Mary Wine
“Join the others. Now.”
She pulled in a harsh breath, clearly annoyed with his tone. But she kept her lips sealed and even lowered her head slightly before turning and climbing to the top of the hill. Brodick remained where he was, taking a moment to fill his chest with the night air. It didn’t do much to cool his blood.
But that wasn’t something to lament. Or so most of his fellow noblemen would say. Having a hard cock for your wife was surely the least of worries considering how ill matched most noble unions were.
He shrugged as his own thoughts failed to fend off a sour disposition. His cock was hard and he wasn’t in the mood to be placated by counting his blessings.
What he wanted was to investigate just how much more passion was locked up inside his English bride. That damned face veil had hidden quite the surprise. Her unpainted face was like discovering ripe strawberries in the dead of winter. Her kiss was just as sweet as those same tempting fruits. Letting her go was a test of his discipline and he’d come very close to failing it.
Still…it was a fine feeling indeed to know that he craved his wife. Even if his cock was throbbing and bound to ache for the next hour, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about how he was going to breed her. Too many grooms made wedding contracts that benefited their people but ended up with limp cocks when they got a look at their brides.
His was standing stiffly at attention, eager for the consummation.
He chuckled as he began moving toward his men.
Well now, it was a surprise that he was going to enjoy full well.
That it was.
She’d never guessed that a man might feel so good pressing up against her, never even considered such an idea since she was forbidden lovers. It was like discovering a hidden treasure of feelings locked deep inside her.
Anne snorted.
’Twas more like stumbling across Pandora’s box. Keeping everything inside was the best course of action. Failing to do that might seal her fate.
Still, she couldn’t quite banish the memory from her thoughts. Maybe that proved Philipa correct; she was like her mother.
A wanton.
She scowled, grateful for the darkness. Her mother loved her father. It was a curse, that emotion. Love wasn’t a wise choice for anyone. It drove men insane and drew women away from their families. Many doctors labeled it an affliction similar to insanity.
She couldn’t think of her mother as deranged or her siblings as the product of insanity. There had to be more to it, something that was yet to be understood. It was the age of understanding after all. Men were sailing the ocean and bringing back tales of new lands inhabited by savages.
She should be able to resist the longings twisting her belly. Every inch of her skin was alive with heightened sensation. She was keenly aware of how soft the fine chemise was against her. For the first time in her life, she detested her stays. They felt too tight against her swollen breasts.
Lust…
She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, her breath lodging in her throat. Arousal was nipping along her body, flowing through her blood like a slow-acting poison. Being a virgin didn’t mean she was ignorant. She knew the realities of the marriage bed, and had since she was half grown. But lust was another matter altogether. It led many a woman to ill consequences.
So why did it feel so good?
She should be able to ignore the tingling in her breasts. Banish from her mind the memory of the way it felt to be held against his body. Instead the sensation persisted, dancing through her mind like fairies intent on leading her into the forest where she would dance forever.
Supper was a quiet affair. The night closed around them, the fire a welcome friend. More oat cakes were offered to her, their dry texture making her grateful for the full skin of water. She shivered as the wind whipped through their campsite. Most of the men had buttoned their doublets now, including the sleeves. They pulled part of their kilts loose, wrapping the wool around their bodies to keep warm. As far as practicality went, she was beginning to understand why they wore kilts. The Celtic standard dress required no sewing and could be adjusted for warm or cold weather. All-in-all a rather ingenious way of dressing.
“You’ll be wanting this tonight, ma’am.”
The thick cloak that she’d spent last night huddled in was offered up by another man. This one considered her with dark eyes. She took the cloak and he tugged the corner of his knitted bonnet in respect.
“I’m called Druce and we’re cousins now by yer marriage.” He watched her wrap the cloak around her shoulders, his expression pensive. “On account of yer husband’s father and mine were brothers.”
So he was a noble-blooded man as well, yet still riding with the rest of the men without any finery to set him apart. She found the lack of arrogance in her escort a refreshing change. Each man earning respect instead of expecting it because of who his father was. They were every bit as strong and capable as their retainers.
She found it quite admirable.
Possibly too much so, because she was battling the urge to like them. As a people, she found the Celtic men more appealing than she had ever thought she might.
“Thank you.”
“No need to fret about sleeping out in the open. There’ll be a good watch posted. Scotland isnae as wild as you might have been led to believe.”
“I have faith in my father’s judgment.”
Druce offered her a grin. “That’s the way to think of it. You’re a good daughter to trust yer sire. He’s nae sent yer off with barbarians, no matter what ye may have heard.”
Her cheeks warmed slightly. “Well…gossip should not be believed. It is rarely true.”
He chuckled at her. Druce pointed towards the ground. “Ye’ll want to settle in and get some sleep. Brodick will have us up at dawn. Mark my words.”
All that much better for getting me to his bed.
Her thoughts were sordid. She laid the blame on Brodick. Before he’d touched her she’d never known lust. Now it wove along her bloodstream like wine, diluting her better sense.
She walked over a spot a few times, feeling for stones with her feet. She kicked a few of them out of the way before lying down, using the cloak to shield her from the dirt.
There was the sound of metal being drawn and she sat up, her heart freezing. The flicker of the campfire flashed off the blade of the earl’s sword. He held the thick handle in one hand while untying the strap that held the scabbard to his back. It came free and he replaced his weapon in the protective leather before taking a last look around. He was deadly serious as he noted each of his men before nodding approval. He turned, aiming his attention toward her. Anne was suddenly grateful for the deep hood of the cloak; it gave her means of shielding herself from his probing eyes. His lips were pressed tight as he sat down next to her.
Too close to her.
He placed his sword on his right side before jerking his kilt up to cover his back.
“Relax, wife. It is the normal custom for married couples to sleep alongside one another. I don’t see why ye’re so tense considering yer fondness for traditions.”
His lips twitched and she shot a glare at him that she didn’t even care if he disliked it or not. His humor was misplaced.
Brodick lay down but rolled onto his side facing her. He propped an elbow against the ground and let his jaw rest in his hand. He lifted a dark eyebrow before using his free hand to pat the dirt next to his large body.
“Come lay by me, Wife.” Thick amusement coated his voice as his lips twitched again. He patted the ground, taunting her reluctance. His brogue had thickened and mischief sparkled in his eyes.
“Unless I frighten ye too badly.”
She lay back, shutting her eyes to ignore him. He chuckled at her and the sound ruffled her pride. She lost her will to keep her eyes closed.
“You think too much of yourself, my lord. You are but a man, no different from many, many others.”
She kept her voice low b
ut he heard her. Instead of taking offense at her insult, he grinned. He reached across her body, keeping her shoulders pinned to the ground as he leaned close to her face, hovering above her lips. Tense anticipation tightened around her as she felt the brush of his breath on the delicate skin of her lips.
“It will be my pleasure to introduce ye to the differences, lass.” He pressed a firm kiss against her mouth. It was hard and inescapable, his chest keeping her in place as his mouth took what he wanted from her.
But it felt good. The kiss blew against the coals of the passion he’d sparked in her by the river. When he lifted his lips away, her breath was uneven.
“I’m looking forward to being in a more private place tomorrow night. There be a world o’ difference between knowing the men around ye and knowing a husband.”
He lay down beside her but remained on his side. She felt his stare on her as she tried to banish the feel of his kiss from her lips.
She forgot to pray as her body tingled and longed for more kisses.
Along with ones applied to her nipples.
Her thoughts made her sleep restless, and she turned and twisted on the hard ground. She opened her eyes half a dozen times during the night, staring at the shapes of the men around her. Her mind tossed about the idea of escape but she conquered that weakness by thinking of her family. If she ran away, she was abandoning them to Philipa’s wrath.
A soft grunt filled her ear as Brodick shifted. He reached across her body and hooked her around the waist. Pulling her snug against him, he kept her still as she wiggled in his embrace.
“You need some rest and so do I,” he whispered into her ear as his front pressed against her back. She was a great deal warmer with his body sharing his heat with her. But she also caught his scent and it awakened the need that had been so hard to resist while he kissed her. She shifted, trying to find some way to escape the smell of his warm skin.
“Keep rubbing against my cock and ye’ll have to live without that inspection.”
She gasped, looking around them, but his men had lay down several paces from them. His lips grazed her neck. His hand slid down to her belly, keeping her still as his lower body remained in firm contact with her bottom. Even through all the layers of her skirt and cloak, there was the unmistakable bulge of his cock. It was hard and her passage suddenly felt empty as though she would enjoy having it invade her sheath.
“Ye see how well suited we are.”
“Lust does not prove compatibility.”
He raised his head so that their eyes met in the dark. “It is a fine place to start.” He rubbed her mons, boldly touching it for the first time.
“Stop that.”
“Ye’re my wife, mine to touch by blessing of the church and yer family. Why would I stop doing something that yer face tells me ye’re enjoying?”
Pleasure burned up her passage as his hand moved. His eyes glittered as his lips thinned. There was no mercy on his face as his hand remained over her mons, moving in a steady motion.
“Close yer eyes and sleep or I’m going to take ye back to the riverbank to settle this question. Keep waking me up and it will be yer duty to entertain me, Wife.”
She closed her eyes in spite of her temper. Several retorts formed in her mind and she bit them back. A soft kiss landed on one cheek before he pulled his hand away from her mons. He settled it around her waist, clamping her against him from toes to chin.
“I’m nae a brute, Mary. But avoiding me will nae make this adjustment any easier. Some things are best done quickly. That way ye nae have time to dread them.”
She scoffed at him, the sound leaving her lips without thought. He chuckled, nuzzling against her neck for a long moment before settling back behind her, his scent keeping her passion alive and hot. She tried to sleep once more but her body wasn’t interested in rest. It longed for more touches, more pleasure. Her clitoris was pulsing softly with need as her passage craved penetration. There was no escape from the lust as long as Brodick held her tight against him. Her body wanted his and she couldn’t escape thinking about him while he held her. Time stretched, the night longer than any she had ever endured.
Chapter Five
Brodick rose before the sun. He huffed as he got to his feet, his expression disgruntled. With one hooded-eye look, the earl walked away to rub the neck of his horse.
“That cloak is too bulky for riding.” Druce held out a hand for it.
Surrendering the garment took courage because the morning was chilly. But the Scotsman was correct. If she tried to sit side-saddle on the mare with the fabric beneath her hip, she’d likely land on the trail in a heap.
“Here, lass. You have thin blood.” Cullen draped a thick surcoat over her shoulders, pausing to wink at her. “We only left your trunk behind, nae your clothing. It’s all tied to the back of one of the mares.”
Anne fingered the surcoat, grateful for its warmth. With deep slits up the sides, it allowed for riding while wearing it. It was wool, edged in true velvet. The expensive fabric was neatly sewn around the openings to the arms and where the front closed. Carefully knotted silk cord frogs ran down the front of the loose gown. She noticed a loose thread and plucked it free. Staring at it, she looked down the front of the coat to see others sticking up. All were evenly spaced, denoting where pearls had been placed. Mary must have spent several hours removing the pearl beads from the clothing that had been sent with Anne. All of her court-loving sibling’s garments were embellished with pearls, gold, and even some gems.
Cullen had rejoined the men, their voices gaining volume as the sun rose. Clutching the surcoat close, she enjoyed its warmth. Even if the pearls had been removed, it was a fine garment, thick and sturdy.
The black steed was missing. Lifting her chin, she scanned the trail, searching for the earl. There was something very comforting in keeping the man in sight. She found him sitting much further up the slope, his eyes on the horizon.
“Will ye stop undressing the man with yer eyes, lass? I’m becoming jealous.”
Cullen led her mare to her, his voice full of mockery.
“I am not…” The idea of undressing Brodick got stuck in her throat.
“Nae what?” Cullen smirked at her.
“I simply am not.” Reaching for the saddle horn, she lifted her foot and lodged it in the stirrup. A hard hand pushed her up, square on her bottom, making her gasp.
Cullen wasn’t repentant a bit when she cast a disgruntled look at him from atop the horse. He tugged on the corner of his knitted hat.
“You’re welcome.”
He swatted her mare on the flank and she took to the trail. The mare eagerly climbed toward the earl, as the rest of his men mounted. They surrounded her, keeping her mare between them, Brodick watching from his position above them. As they drew closer, she thought she noticed a satisfied smile on his lips, but he turned, showing her his broad back before she decided.
“Sterling.” Brodick’s voice echoed in the early morning as his hand rose, the fingers clenched tight in a fist.
“Sterling,” his men answered, their cheer almost deafening. Even the horses appeared to catch on to the enthusiasm of their riders, picking up their hooves faster. A flicker of excitement surprised her, washing through her as she looked up at the back of the earl. His men followed him happily and without fear. It was a stark contrast to the years she’d served Lady Philipa. Every servant under her spoke against the lady when they were below floors. She hadn’t truly realized just how bleak Warwickshire was until she saw the opposite displayed by Brodick’s men. For a brief moment, Anne allowed herself to enjoy the tide of contentment. But she couldn’t take solace in it too long.
Her position was not going to improve once they arrived at Sterling. It was only going to become harder to avoid Brodick and his expectations. A little ripple of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Shocked by her own emotions, Anne tried to resign herself to following her plans. Postponing the consummation was critical to her
survival.
Yet a flicker of passion flared up as she considered Brodick’s back. His hair was slightly curled, and long enough to brush the top of his shoulders. His shirt was tied up at the shoulders, displaying the hard cut of muscle along his arms. Her memory offered up exactly how good that strength felt.
Pandora’s box…
Tension pooled in her belly as she recalled how his kiss had awakened her flesh. It made her bold, those kisses. The sort that sent good women down a road paved with disgrace. With a shake of her head, she chewed on her lower lip, trying to concoct some reason to delay the inspection.
There had to be a way…she just had yet to think of it.
Warwickshire
Ivy Copper hugged Bonnie tighter than normal.
“Mother, is something wrong?”
Cupping Bonnie’s fair cheeks in her hands, Ivy smiled. “No, sweet, I am just a mother and we always see our children as babes.”
Bonnie gave her another hug before dancing off across the chamber. “I must go or be late. We are weaving today. No more spinning or carding wool.”
Ivy waved her towards her duty, waiting until she heard Bonnie’s steps diminish before allowing her guard to drop and worry lines to appear on her face.
Anne was gone from the castle.
Worry filled her as she began to pace. None of her children had ever left Warwickshire. Perhaps she was foolish to let it unsettle her, for the young often traveled, but she could not stop her mind from turning and twisting. She feared that something was amiss even though her common sense told her that she was only enduring a mother’s grief.
She wished the earl were in residence.
At least that thought brought a measure of calm to her. She always wished that Henry was near. How could she not? She loved him too much. Yet she was not alone in that insanity. Henry adored her and had always treated her well, far better than most lemans. He had never strayed from her side even when her belly was swollen, even now that the years were passing too quickly.