by Mary Wine
It was a muddle that even the clear spring weather could not melt away. The sun warmed her face as she hauled water from the river to wash her laundry and still she felt chilled and shaky. Her belly remained queasy, a tight knot that despised all but a few bits of nibbled bread. Even that bland fare often turned her green.
She fell into a routine. Rising with the sun and sleeping as soon as it set. The candles in her chamber had long since burned low. She couldn’t think of a good reason to burn another one since she only had her own needs to see to. It would be a waste of a good resource. A habit she didn’t need to foster in herself. Who knew where she might find herself come next spring and under what circumstances.
Brodick would turn her out when he discovered the ruse. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. Crying was foolish.
Still she could not stop the flood of regret that hit her. He was a fine man who treated his wife kindly, far more tenderly than many. Even with his staff being so cold to her, there was much about her life at Sterling to covet. If it were her home, she would take the staff in hand. But she remained an outcast because she knew that she was not the true mistress of the house.
She was the lord’s leman at best, and even that would end when Brodick became wise to Philipa’s game.
With no fire, she often slept in the surcoat, its sturdy fabric a welcome comfort in the chamber. Once huddled beneath the coverlet, she was quite warm. If only her heart could be thawed by the fabric.
That would surely be too much to hope for.
Home
Brodick didn’t care if Cullen teased him. He was happy to be headed home. It wasn’t the first month he’d spent on the trail. A harsh truth that it wouldn’t be his last either. But tonight, he was following the moon back to Sterling. It set his heart to pounding and his mind to thinking about his sweet wife.
He caught Cullen staring at him.
“No teasing remark, Brother? Are ye sure yer nae feeling fevered?”
His brother didn’t grin. Instead he looked serious and older than his years.
“I’m contemplating the fact that I’m envious of ye.”
Druce reined in beside them. “Did I hear ye right? Was that actually wee Cullen admitting he can see the worth in marrying?”
Cullen glared at their cousin. “I always knew the value of the dowry but I didnae grasp the worth o’ having someone waiting on my return. That’s what I envy. Laugh if ye want, but ye’ve no one praying for yer skin, either.”
Druce frowned. “Maybe, I admit I’m beginning to see the benefits o’ such a thing. Possibly.”
Had she really prayed for him?
Only his mother had ever done that. His face heated just a wee bit as another part of him was far more interested in knowing if she’d dreamed about him. Late at night, when the fire was low and her bed empty. He’d thought about her every night on the trail, his back feeling the rocks more than he had in years.
“Well, I’d be most appreciative if one of ye would catch that daughter of McQuade’s and marry her. That way I’d nae have to chase his raiding clansmen across my land.”
“Bronwyn McQuade?”
Druce and Cullen both scowled as they spoke the name. Cullen shook his head in denial. “Yer harsh, Brother. Bronwyn is a shrew, more sour than Medusa.”
Druce chuckled. “I hear her pretty face is the lure she wiggles in front o’ men before unleashing her hellcat temper.”
“None o’ us have ever even been in the same room with the lass. Could be ’tis nothing more than a fable.”
“And I’ve no plans to change that, man.” Druce looked set in his opinion. “I want a sweet lass waiting for me, nae a battle of epic proportions every night.”
Brodick shrugged. “There were many who warned me against my bride. Told me the English bred weak women with tempers like the insane.” The top of the first tower of Sterling came into sight. “I’m humbly thankful that I’ve been shown otherwise.”
Brodick spurred his horse forward. Cullen and Druce watched him gallop towards his home.
“’Tis more enthusiasm than any man so newly wed should have.” Cullen didn’t sound as confident as he’d like. Envy was still riding him hard.
“Well now, I suppose maybe we’re the unlucky sods for nae having someone to make us that impatient.”
Cullen slid his cousin a raised eyebrow. “Does that mean yer taking another bit of thinking over Bronwyn McQuade?”
“Nae.” Druce said it too loudly.
Cullen smirked. “Nae? It sounds like ye might be thinking o’ it.”
Druce snickered, his voice low and mocking. “You first, laddie. I want to make sure she’s fed before I go too close to her claws.”
“Och well, nae every man has the amount o’ courage I’m blessed with.”
A couple of retainers laughed at Druce’s expense. He pointed a finger at Cullen. “I cannae wait to see ye tame her. Ye won’t be the first man she’s sent howling from her with his tail between his legs.”
Cullen frowned as more heads turned to listen in on their conversation. Druce smiled, enjoying his discomfort.
“Unless ye’ve lost some o’ that great courage, cousin.”
Chuckles surrounded him, raising his temper. “We’ll see.”
“Will we? I cannae wait.” Druce smirked. “Truly I cannae.”
“Ye will.” Cullen kneed his horse forward. The snickering behind him sent his temper to boiling. He didn’t care if he’d started it, the idea that any lass might be so hard to handle didn’t sit well with him. His brother was right. Marrying up with Bronwyn would settle a great many scores. His aching back found it a fine idea. Besides, beneath his teasing exterior was a son who had been raised with the same sense of duty that Brodick had. Marrying for the benefit of the McJames people was his future. ’Twas not just any bride he needed. Bronwyn McQuade was, in fact, a fine choice to be contemplating.
Now if he could only manage a way to getting close enough to the lass without getting his neck stretched on a rope by her father and brothers. That was the real trick. Not taming her.
There wasn’t a lass alive that was too strong to resist his charm. It might be a wee bit of fun to pursue the stubborn lass just to see how fast she succumbed to his touch.
The bells didn’t ring upon his return.
Brodick had ordered that custom stopped when his father died. He didn’t feel worthy of the bells announcing his return until he proved his worth as the new Lord of Sterling. ’Twas not something that could be done in the three short years he’d held his title. He rode through the open gate with pride tonight. All the discomforts of the last five weeks dissipated as he looked over the peace of the courtyard. Men walked the walls, the fires were burning evenly and all of its inhabitants slept in ease.
That was the duty of the McJames.
The sword on his back was never too heavy. But he was glad to be home again. Swinging his leg off the back of his horse, he gave the animal a firm pat before letting a stable lad take the reins. The youth looked stunned for a moment, hesitating because Brodick normally cared for his own steed.
“Do a good job of rubbing him down, lad, and I’ll see a reward to ye.”
A smile parted the boy’s face. “I’ll be like his mother.”
Men began spilling through the open gate, their voices cheerful. Lights began to flicker in the tower as wives and families roused. He looked up toward the chamber his wife slept in but saw no hint of light in the window.
That didn’t discourage him.
All it did was unleash a wicked desire to wake her up.
He stopped halfway up the steps. Inside he caught a whiff of sweet lavender from the candles. A deeper breath gave him a hint of what his body smelled like. Turning around he moved toward the bathing room. The erection standing at attention behind his kilt would just have to wait until he removed the stench of horse and sweat.
His wife had a pretty nose that he had no desire to see wrinkled.
The
kitchen was already lit up, Bythe and her helpers smiling with welcome. Several retainers had made their way to their families, joy spilling into the darker corridors.
“Bythe, I’ve need o’ a bath and I dinnae care if it’s cold as a spinster.”
“Aye, my lord. It will be chilly, the fires are low.” She wrung her hands, looking about nervously.
“No matter, ’tis no reason to fret. Send the water.”
One of the maids scurried into the bath room with a candle. She touched the flame to the wicks of the candles mounted on the walls, bringing them to life. With a hasty lowering of her head, she departed. Water began splashing down the trough and into the tub. It gurgled, making a happy sound, and Brodick shed his clothing, grateful to be back in civilized surroundings. He was thirty-four years old and happy to relinquish the desire to ride through the night to the younger men who still considered it gallant.
He preferred his home.
Sitting down in the tub, he reached for the soap. It was a common bar, milled on his own land without any feminine perfume scents added. There was only a scent of beeswax. He applied it to his skin with brisk strokes, his thoughts centered on completing his task so he might get on with what he was truly craving.
His bed with his wife in it.
He was slightly disappointed that she had not come down to greet him, but shrugged it off. Her chamber was above floors and she was most likely still slumbering away, unaware that he’d returned. He suddenly understood why his father had the bells rung when he entered the courtyard.
It suddenly seemed like a fine tradition.
“Toweling, my lord.”
Ginny spoke from the doorway, her head looking at the floor. She kept her sight on the hem of her skirt as she entered and left the neat linen on a stool.
“If my wife awakes, send her to me.”
The maid swallowed roughly. Brodick froze, turning his attention to the girl, but she was scurrying out of the room as if he were Satan. He frowned, but dismissed the maid. The only woman he had to struggle to understand was his wife.
Now that was a task he was looking forward to.
His wife’s chamber was too cold. Brodick frowned, his wet hair feeling the chill when he entered it. There wasn’t a speck of light from anywhere inside the chamber. His suspicions rose as he cast a look at the fireplace. There was nothing there; even the scent of smoke was missing from the room telling him that a fire had not been burning for many days, possibly weeks. The curtains on the windows were open as well. They should have been drawn at night to keep the fire heat from seeping past the glass. But having them open allowed moonlight and light from the walls to penetrate into the dark room. He’d expect such if a room was unoccupied.
Icy fingers closed around his heart. It was the sort of feeling he’d only experienced a few times in his life. Dread choked him as he moved toward the bed, trying to see through the blackness. The bed curtains were drawn all the way around the bed, only a mere few inches open at the foot of the bed. Inside, there was naught but darkness.
Had she fled back to her father?
Jerking one curtain aside, he reached into the bed and found a small lump. His breath expelled from his lungs in a rush of relief. His knees actually wobbled and he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. His wife moved, stirring as her bed was rocked.
“What does the mistress require?”
His wife looked at the bed curtains, confusion marring her face. Her words didn’t make sense.
“Don’t ye mean the queen? When I attended yer English court, I dinnae recall her ladies calling her mistress.”
“My lord?”
Anne stared at the large shape and trembled. Joy rushed through her. She reached out to touch him, needing the reassurance of feeling his warm skin. It felt as if it had been forever since he left.
“I believe I instructed ye to call me Brodick when in our bed.”
He moved before her fingers made contact with him. The bed rocked, sending the curtains swaying like they were on a ship at sea. His large form looked huge in the darkness but his voice had been tender and welcoming. She sighed when his arms wrapped around her, hauling her up against him in a solid embrace that made her shiver.
She had dreamed of his arms around her.
“Brodick.” She lightly stroked his shoulders, shaking with happiness. He groaned softly.
“Say that again.”
Tracing a path up his neck she toyed with the locks of his hair. It was wet and curling.
“Welcome home, Brodick”
His mouth sought hers, taking a firm kiss. She slid her hands back to his shoulders. His lips pressed hers open, lingering over her mouth like a fine whiskey. He didn’t rush but tasted her gently.
“What are you sleeping in?”
Her fingers tried to hold him close but he pulled away to look at her.
“Are ye wearing that surcoat in bed?” His hands ran over her shoulders, trying to discover exactly what she was covered in.
“It keeps me warm when you are away.”
His hands stopped investigating her clothing. He framed her face gently, leaning back close until she felt his breath on her moist lips.
“Ah lass, ye’ll turn my head with flattery like that.” He opened the surcoat, working the buttons quickly, even in the dark. He pushed the garment over her shoulders, lifting her up to get at the tail of her chemise.
“Ye’ve no need o’ it now. I promise to keep ye very warm.”
His kiss blocked out whatever she might have thought to reply. His large body pressed her back into the bed. Anne reached for him, frantic to be touched. The solitude of the last month felt like an eternity. Brodick was warm and solid. Everything she craved.
She kissed him back. Her tongue boldly seeking his, his tongue tangling deep inside her mouth, stroking and gliding against hers. Her hands twisted in his hair, combing through the wet strands. Even that touch flooded her with sweet sensation. Each breath she drew brought his scent deep into her lungs, further confirming that she was no longer alone.
She wasn’t cold either.
Her blood began heating, melting away the chill that had encased her. The skin that had felt nothing but cold for so long suddenly flickered with heat so intense it was like fever. Her feet slid along his calves, their legs entwining. The flow of heat entered her belly, swirling into her passage. One warm hand cupped a breast, firmly grasping it.
“I’ve missed ye.” Husky and needy, his voice was pure delight. His thumb brushed over the puckered point of her nipple. A soft grunt left his lips.
“I think ye’ve missed me, too.”
“I have.”
He leaned down, boldly sucking her nipple into his mouth. The tip of his tongue lashing against it over and over again. A soft moan escaped her lips, her body falling back onto the bed to offer her breast to his lips. He plumped it in his hand, pushing the nipple up further. With a soft pop he pulled his lips free, his breath blowing across the wet skin. Goose bumps spread over the delicate skin as she shivered.
“Say my name, lass. I’ve longed to hear it in my dreams.”
She’d say anything as long as he’d resume sucking her nipple.
“Brodick.”
His breath roughened. “Again.”
The fingers on her breast released the globe to trail down the center of her body.
“Welcome home, Brodick.”
“Aye, ye’re that, a welcoming thing to find waiting in my bed.”
His fingers found the curls at the top of her sex. Her back arched, sensation drawing her muscles tight with anticipation.
“I wonder though. Just how welcoming ye’re feeling.”
One large finger parted her slit, sliding across her clitoris. A soft gasp crossed her lips as sensation jolted through her. It was wild and strong, spiking up into her passage, her sheath becoming needy and demanding.
“Warm, aye, but still not as hot as I know ye can be.”
He was teasing her but sh
e did not care. His finger stroked her clitoris, rubbing the little point of pleasure with slow circular motions. Heat raged inside her, growing hotter with each second. Her thighs parted further, the folds of her slit opening. He ran his finger down the plump lips to the opening of her body, gently teasing it all the way around before dipping into her sheath just a tiny amount. A harsh cry left her lips as the muscles of her passage tried to clasp that fingertip. She felt so empty it hurt.
“Now that’s much hotter. I must have found the right coals to stoke.” His finger penetrated deeply, gently sliding over the needy walls of her sheath. Her hips bucked, lifting towards him. Her body was slick, taking his finger easily.
“A man could nae ask for a warmer welcome than that.”
His teasing was driving her insane. He felt too far away. She wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of hers, every bit of her skin in contact with his.
“Come to me, lover.”
Her voice sounded foreign, sultry. Holding her arms open, she waited for him to answer her.
“Aye.”
Demand edged his voice. His finger left her body before he rolled over her. She clasped her thighs around his hips, spreading wide for him. His elbow took most of his weight, pressing against the mattress near her head.
“Aye, indeed.”
He pressed his cock into her, stretching her body with his girth. She arched towards him, moaning with enjoyment. Her sheath gripped his hard flesh, enjoying the nips of near pain that ran through her because of his absence. Her clitoris began throbbing in earnest, begging for friction.
“Verra warm and welcoming.”
His words didn’t shock her tonight. They fanned the flames higher, sending more heat racing towards her passage. He moved, withdrawing to the tip of his cock. She echoed his motion, lifting her bottom when he began thrusting back into her.
A harsh cry left her lips as his length rubbed along her swollen clitoris. Her body shuddered, sweat popping out on her skin. She was too needy. Felt too hot. Her body was greedy and starving for his. She gripped his thick biceps, her fingers curling into the firm muscles.