by Mary Wine
“I’ll nae be distracted. Ye’ll answer me before yer kisses drive thought from my mind.”
Her body shook with the loss of his support. A dull ache ran through every inch of her flesh. Clasping her arms around herself, she tried to remove the feeling of his hands by rubbing her arms.
“You doubt me. That will never change. Even after my innocence is proven you will continue to doubt my word.” She shivered. “This is why I ask you to send me back to my father.”
“And I have told ye that I willnae do so.” He spat his words at her, pointing that finger toward her once more. “Have ye known another man?”
“No, and that won’t be changing tonight.” She had no way to enforce her words but they flew out of her mouth born from the flames of her temper. How she wished she were enduring her woman’s flow. Her eyes widened.
Her monthly flow…
“Since you doubt my innocence, it is only prudent to wait until my monthly curse happens before consummating this marriage. Only by doing that will you never doubt the parentage of any babe I may conceive.”
His expression darkened but she didn’t wait for him to demand compliance from her again.
“Yes. That is the way to end this quarrel.” Taking a deep breath into her lungs, she curtsied, dismissing him with the gesture. “Good night, my lord.”
She turned her back on him, the hairs on her nape rising as she did so. Her shoulders were tense as she began walking away, expecting to feel his hands on her at any moment. She made it the length of the hallway without any interference. Disappointment slammed into her, making her aware of how much she enjoyed his touch. Tears clouded her vision as she climbed the stairs and she wasn’t even sure why she was sniffling.
She had gained what she wanted. There was no reason for her to despair. Her monthly curse would not come for another fortnight at least. It was a much better plan than asking for an inspection.
So why did she not feel relief?
Chapter Seven
Helen was cross with her.
The maid hid it well but Anne knew from personal experience what the tight set of her lips meant. How many times had she done the same while tending to Philipa?
The maid was holding back the words that she wanted to lecture Anne with. She performed her duties efficiently but without the friendly banter she’d added this afternoon. There was little to do after Anne’s dress was removed and hung up. Helen returned with a silver brush. Anne heard her pull in a stiff breath as she drew it through Anne’s hair.
“The lord will adore yer hair.”
The brush slid along the waist-length strands. Anne rarely let it hang loose. That was something girls did and she’d passed such a stage when it came time to begin earning her keep in the kitchen. Tight braids were far more practical. Warwickshire servants wore linen caps, too. The required head covering kept flour out of her hair. Pinning her braids up kept the ends from frizzing when she leaned over to poke up the fire.
“He’s a good man, the lord.”
Anne sighed, unsure what to believe anymore. Had she truly only left Warwickshire three days ago? It felt so much longer.
“If yer mother were here, she’d explain how men can be suspicious when they are thinking about their wives.” Helen was silent for a long moment. “Ye really should not take it to heart. It only shows how much they value a good reputation. That’s nae something they feel is needed in a mistress. It’s a compliment, setting ye above the women in their past.”
“Should I risk him reproaching our first child? Wondering if I was carrying before he knew me?”
“The McJames would nae do such a thing.” There was an edge to her tone now. “Besides, Agnes would have known if ye were breeding.”
“He doubts my purity.”
Helen stopped. She walked in front of her, aiming a steady look that reminded her very much of her mother’s.
“Go to his bed and prove the matter. Pride is poor company once the bed curtains have been pulled.”
Anne bit back her longing to do exactly that. Helen saw it and sighed. She curtsied.
“Good night, then, mistress.”
“Thank you, Helen.”
She hesitated before leaving, looking back at Anne. With a nod, she left the room. The crackle from the dying fire was suddenly loud. Heat braised Anne’s cheeks as she felt her hair shifting softly around her shoulders. She felt so pretty, something she wasn’t accustomed to. Vanity was another one of those things she had never had time for. Her skin was creamy and smooth from her bath, practically glowing in the firelight.
As a noble bride should be…
Yet she had sent her groom away.
The bed curtains were drawn along the sides to catch the heat and hold it. Reaching out, she fingered one of the thick panels. It was a luxury that she had never thought to sample. The sheets were smooth and soft, too. Running her hand over them, she remained on her knees, ill at ease among such finery.
Her guilt robbed her of any enjoyment. She had not earned the place as mistress of the house.
“Do you really fear me so much?”
Anne jumped—Brodick’s voice came from the shadows. It was soft and silken as if he were speaking to a child.
“Or is it a game to prod me into doing what ye want and return ye to your father?”
Guilt slammed into her, making it hard to raise her head. The man deserved far better than the deception she was. But her pride demanded that she stop allowing him to think her a coward.
“I am not motivated by fear of your touch. Your insinuations angered me.”
There was a soft step on the stone floor. The shadows grew until the earl was standing in front of her. He studied her, his gaze lingering on the soft waves of her hair.
“I did that true enough.” He touched her hair, gently fingering a lock. A look of enjoyment passed over his face. It made her feel pretty, something she’d never experienced.
“For all yer demureness on the trail, there’s a flame hidden inside ye.” He sounded amused by her temper. Something she hadn’t expected from any man. Even the lowest stable hand considered himself master of his own family.
“You cannot be happy to discover that.”
He chuckled. “Ye think not?” She realized that the brooch holding his tartan was missing now, only his shirt covering his chest.
“Think once more. I told ye already that I have no taste for a coward.”
A tingle of awareness went through her, as though she was proud of showing him that she would not submit meekly.
“I didn’t take that to mean that you enjoy shrewish behavior.”
His lips twitched up, a look of satisfaction taking over his features.
“There’s a difference between passion and sourness.”
He approved of her. She heard it in his voice. Her teeth worried her lower lip because she just couldn’t help but bask in the glow of that praise. It meant even more because it came from a man she was growing to admire. Brodick wasn’t a puffed-up shell with a title. He was a man who worked as hard as his people did. His attention dropped to her chest, lingering on her breasts behind the thin chemise. She was suddenly self-conscious and keenly aware that they were alone.
In her bedroom.
“You should not be here, my lord.”
“Did yer father teach ye to tell everyone around ye what to do?” His voice was sharp, edged with impatience that thickened his brogue. “Ye do it often enough with me. I think it’s time ye heard what I’m wanting.”
“You want me in your bed. I have listened to you.” She spoke too quickly, her emotions bleeding through to her voice. Brodick frowned.
“And ye want me to return ye to yer father.” He placed a knee on the bed, judging her reaction. A ripple of sensation crossed her bare arms, raising gooseflesh along her limbs. His keen gaze followed it. “I notice ye don’t ask to return to yer mother but instead to court. Is it any wonder that I question who is waiting for ye there?”
The collar of his shir
t was open, displaying a deep vee of skin and brawn. He leaned in closer, joining her on the bed. The frame creaked as it took his weight. But he moved slowly as though he were attempting to lull her into a sense of submission. She did admit that it was mesmerizing having his large body invade her bed. It was something she’d heard about for so many years. Been warned to avoid, it had taken on almost a magical feeling. As if it could never truly happen except in her imagination. Excitement rippled through her when she smelled his skin. He was very real and so different from the few boys who had attempted to flirt with her at Warwickshire. Those boys had professed bravery in the face of Philipa’s dictates but Brodick embodied that idea. She believed that he would never tremble with fear…never.
“Explain what drives ye to return to court.”
“I did…I told you…” She shut her lips as he reached for her. Fascination took hold of her as her skin anticipated the contact between them.
She craved it.
Need blossomed inside her, spreading its petals wide to catch the warmth radiating from him. She lifted her face for his touch, sighing softly as his fingers smoothed over her cheek. A tiny sigh crossed her lips. Her eyelids fluttered, opening to see why he didn’t touch her further. The suspicion tore through her and she lost the battle to deny him the solace of the truth.
“I truly want to see my father. No other. Only him.”
She stared straight into his eyes as she spoke. He reached forward, stoking her face with a warm hand.
“Aye, I see that in yer eyes. Ye love him deeply.”
“I do.”
His thumb traced her lower lip. Sweet sensation filled her, traveling along her skin. It flowed down to her breasts, awakening the flesh so that she was keenly aware of it. Both nipples drew into hard points that brushed against the thin fabric of her chemise. Her heart thumped hard inside her chest, but outwardly, she felt amazingly calm.
“Which is why I willnae return ye, lass. I envy him that devotion and find myself longing for the chance to earn the same place in yer heart.”
He kissed her, stopping the retort that bubbled from her lips. He pushed the words back into her mouth as he cradled her in strong arms while laying her back onto the bed. His body trapped her there, but he caught some of his weight on his elbows as he teased her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She shivered, a flood of sensation washing over her. The bed felt like a surreal place. A hidden paradise where they might frolic without earthy cares.
Never once had she imagined that an embrace could feel so good. His arms were hard, but his hold, soft. She squirmed, turning one way and then another but he controlled her with his body moving to remain in contact with her.
His scent filled her as his tongue thrust into her mouth, his fingertips turning her head so that their mouths could fit together tighter. His tongue filled her mouth, slipping and sliding along hers. He teased her until she returned his touch, tangling with his tongue.
Her hard nipples pressed against his chest and it delighted her. She was suddenly too warm for the chemise, the garment scratchy against her skin.
She was equally unhappy with his shirt, her fingers pulling on it as they searched for the skin she’d only glimpsed. He broke their kiss, trailing his lips across her cheek and along her jaw. Sweet delight flowed along with her racing blood and she arched her back to be closer to him. He kissed her neck, softly, tenderly, once and then twice. He cupped her nape, holding it still as he applied his teeth to the delicate skin. A mutter of pleasure left her mouth as she pulled on his shirt. The wide shoulders her eyes had admired felt so good in her grasp.
His legs were bare, his knee-high boots missing. With her wearing only the chemise, their legs slid against one another, heightening her enjoyment. His hands left her to press down on the bed beside her head. He raised his face to watch her. Their lower bodies connected, the presence of his hard cock solid against her belly.
She shuddered, need raking its claws across her. Hidden between her thighs, her sex was hot and needy. The glow from the dying fire cast a ruby hue across her lover, bathing them in more heat.
“I like the way we talk without words quite a bit.”
His voice was husky but also demanding. He sat back on his haunches, pulling his hands across her belly and over her thighs until he reached the bottom of her chemise. He watched her face as he pressed his hands onto her bare skin.
“Do ye feel that, lass? The passion is alive between us.”
He moved up her body, pushing the fabric slowly upwards. She didn’t care that it bared her to his stare; her skin was begging to be free. She had never longed to be naked but it took root in her soul as an absolute necessity. His hand smoothed over her hips, removing the barrier of her clothing. Higher still until her belly was clearly in sight. One thick leg pressed down on the bed between her thighs while he worked the chemise over her breasts.
“Ye’re lovely indeed, lass. A vision.”
She didn’t get to see his expression because he was pulling the garment over her head and up her arms. But she heard the satisfaction in his tone.
“And ye would have sent me to a lonely bed.” His gaze roamed down her length, hunger tightening his jaw until a muscle twitched along one side. “I think not.”
He ripped his shirt up and over his head, baring his chest in one swift motion. A hard jerk on his belt and he threw it behind him. The folds of his kilt fell away from his lean waist, now that the belt was no longer holding it. He lowered his weight back onto her before the fabric revealed the cock she’d felt pressing against her.
“I think that I shall have ye.”
He cupped her breasts, drawing a whimper from her as pleasure spiked through her. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, surprising her with how much she liked being touched.
“And I think that ye will enjoy being taken.”
His mouth sealed out any further comments. A hard kiss taking command while his tongue thrust deeply. It was an invasion, a breaching of her defenses. Yet one she did not protest. Pleasure rose up from every point of contact. She was swept along by the powerful current, willing and eager to discover how much more delight there might be. She toyed with his tongue, teasing it with the tip of her own. Her hands sought out his shoulders, gliding along the sculpted ridges.
“That’s it, lass, touch me.”
His shoulders shook as she ran her hands along the hard ridges. His chest was coated in crisp hair that felt very male to her. He pressed a kiss against her neck as his hands gripped each soft breast. She’d never once noticed how sensitive the globes were. His hands sent sensations through her. They flowed down her body to her sex. But her nipples begged for him to keep his promise to taste them. He worked his way lower, kissing her neck and along her collarbones. His hands gently kneaded each mound as his mouth arrived over one. Her eyes grew round as her breath caught in her throat. Anticipation drew her as tight as a bow, her gaze fastened on his head.
“I’ve been wanting to discover what yer nipples taste like for too long.”
“We only met two days ago.”
His lips thinned with hunger as his thumb brushed across the tip of one hard nipple. “Aye, as I said—too long.”
His hair hung down on either side of his head, brushing the side of her breast. A harsh gasp escaped her lips when he opened his mouth and closed the remaining distance. It was almost too hot. Sucking her nipple deep inside his mouth, the heat singeing the delicate skin. Her fingers made their way into his hair. She simply could not resist the urge to hold him in place. The sweetest pleasure filled her, covering her like warm sunshine.
He chuckled softly when she whimpered. It was a sound she’d never heard from herself. So needy, so hungry.
He raised his head and she moaned at the loss. He stared into her eyes, studying her for a long moment.
“Wife.”
There was heavy possession in his voice. That single word more of a battle cry than anything the church sanctioned.
H
e released her breasts, sliding his fingers down and across her belly. The muscles quivered as he pressed her thighs wider, spreading her sex open. One large male hand hesitated for only a moment on the top of her mons before slipping into her sex.
“Brodick.”
She sounded breathless but wasn’t sure if it was from shock or excitement. Never once had she considered being touched between her thighs.
“I told ye that we Scots are practiced in the art of warming up our women. Believe me, ye aren’t nearly warm enough to my way of thinking.”
He stroked her sex, straight down the center with one finger. The little nub hidden at the top sent a jolt of pleasure into her belly when he touched it. A whimper rose from her as he lingered for a long moment on that spot, stroking it with a firm touch.
“Exactly the right spot to start a fire.”
Her hips lifted towards his touch without her even thinking about it. She simply responded to the pleasure. Her nipples twisted tighter as she found it impossible to remain still. Her body twitched and pressed up towards his, seeking more. Fluid coated his fingers, making the skin wet. His fingers moved easily through the folds of her sex, toying with her clitoris.
Need consumed her. She reached for him, clawing at his shoulders, her hips bucking towards his hand. Pleasure tightened under his finger, twisting harder until she cried out for relief from it.
“Brodick…” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It was strained and husky. Completely uncharacteristic for her.
But he withdrew his hand and she hit him, her hand smacking his skin. He laughed at her and thrust one thick finger deep into her body. Pleasure ripped up from the penetration, her bottom tilting to take him deeper.
“Do you like that, lass?”
“Yes.” It went far beyond wanting, she craved him inside her.
He sent a second finger into her sheath, working them in and out of her body. His knee rose to push her thighs up giving him more access to her sex.
“Then ye shall have me.”
He withdrew his fingers, spreading her thighs wider with his hips. A rustle of fabric filtered up to her ears before she felt the first touch of his cock against her opening. He gripped her hips, shaking as he nudged his way into her. Just a mere inch at first and her body strained towards him, every muscle taut with need.