Flaron smiled as he opened a large wooden crate and delivered its contents to Andra's lap in the middle of the orphanages new kitchen. It was yards upon yards of crimson and silver satin material. She had frowned knowing it was Kagan's way of saying that his debt had been paid in full. She choked as she ran her hand through the cloth; it was his colors, McKregan colors.
Kagan returned late that evening. She watched him ride towards her and held her breath. His hair blew into the wind and he looked like a pagan god mounted on top of his demon horse. His roguish smile and gray eyes held her prisoner as he pulled to a halt in front of her. She found her icy shell and put it into place as the sexy dark laird dismounted.
“Tis done,” he announced, “and I took the liberty of fillin' the bookshelves with books that the bairns will enjoy.”
“And what do I owe ye for such kindness?” she asked sternly.
He ignored her question, “At noon tomorrow, three women who ha'e lost their own babes to illness and disease will be arrivin' to care for the bairns. I ha'e thoroughly searched their backgrounds and trust they will be pleased with the children. Their husbands will be joinin' 'em later tomorrow along with a pleasant little nursemaid.”
Andra successfully kept her jaw from dropping and smiled as sweetly as she could. She took his arm as they walked out of prying ear distance. Her mind attacked the issue at hand and she tried to find answers. She walked to the great tree that stood at the top of the gentle hill and turned to face him. He rested his hand on his hilt as he waited for her to speak.
“What is it that ye want of me?” she asked calmly, “What could I possibly gi'e ye in return for ye kindness?”
“Back rubs.” The statement was simple and to the point.
“Ye tease me!” she accused.
“Nay,” he answered, “I find my back aches of late and the muscles in my neck stay tense givin' way to pain in my temples.”
“And that is all ye desire from me?” she asked in confusion.
“It does require ye to come to McKregan Keep and share a room off from my bedchamber.”
Her green eyes narrowed, “Ye would ha'e me in ye room, in ye bed, in candlelight, caressing ye bare backside. Ye mean to seduce me!”
His comical expression threatened to rip laughter from Andra but she held it back as he replied, “Now that ye mention it...”
“Oh, nay, nay. I will'na share ye room!”
“Actually, ye bedchamber is connected to mine. When I need ye, I will come to ye room or ye can come to mine. The door is secret and na one will be the wiser of it,” he calmly explained as he examined a bug that had landed on his forearm, “If ye wish to sleep next to me, ye can.”
“I donna trust ye milord,” she hissed, “Ye be up to somethin'!”
“Fear me na, I gi'e ye my word I will'na touch ye less ye ask me to or there comes a time when it comes necessary.” He chose his words wisely knowing it would become necessary if he had to endure her fiery touch.
“And what of me, am I bound only to touch ye back and neck?” she softly asked as she stepped closer to him.
“Ye may touch me as ye please,” he whispered as she took his hands, “Anywhere ye please.”
“Do ye swear it? Do ye promise? On ye honor? On ye sword? Swear it to me as Laird Kagan McKregan. Swear it on ye blood, swear it to mine that I may touch ye as I please and ye will'na touch me in return less I request ye to do so,” she whispered knowing she had found the answer to the problem.
He could not refuse her on this, she had evoked the blood oath of warrior honor. She was not asking, she was demanding that he prove himself in honor, by sword, and by blood. If he broke the oath, he would be bound to her for life until she chose to end his. If she chose to break the oath, she would admit his honor was faithful and true, that his sword was strong and unbendable, that his blood was thick and fearless. His face hardened and his eyes fumed with a warrior's fire as he slowly bent to one knee and pulled his dagger from his boot and his sword from its sheath.
“On my honor, I swear it,” he pledged as he crossed his heart with sword and dagger.
“On my sword, I swear it,” he proclaimed in a dark booming voice as he held the great sword to Andra. She gently took it from his hand, almost losing her balance under its weight.
“On my blood, I swear it,” he swore as he sliced his palm with the dagger. The blood trickled down his hand and splattered on the ground at his booted feet.
Andra courageously held her hand out to him. Kagan's strong hands shook slightly as he held the blades edge to her tender palm. His eyes begged her to pull away not wanting to hurt her, he did not want to spill a drop of her blood, but she held firm. Pressing the blade down, he felt its sharp grip as it sliced across her palm.
Kagan watched the tears mist her eyes, but she did not cry out or groan to the pain. He dropped the dagger and held his hand above hers letting his blood drop onto her wound. She brought her palm up to meet his letting her blood flow into his wound.
“My blood to ye and ye blood to mine,” he whispered as she leaned into his arms.
“Tis done,” she whispered in return as she pulled away and turned down the path to the orphanage.
She walked briskly away with his heavy sword and her burning palm. She could scarcely carry the blasted thing, but she dared not to drop it. She looked over her shoulder at Kagan. He was on her heels heading towards Demon. His face was full of fury but his eyes were aglow with something Andra had never seen before.
She watched as he mounted Demon and took off in full gallop towards the valley. Andra stared at his disappearing back and wondered why his eyes were so bright with life when his face was so consumed with anger. Or was it anger?
She had won this battle, hadn’t she? She wondered why she felt like she had just made a deal with the devil.
Precisely at noon, Kagan's guard arrived at the orphanage with three women in tow. Andra was quickly packed and placed on Demon's back. The horse had come alone, bareback, just the way she liked him. She ran her hands along his neck and whispered in his ear. He snorted and pranced with excitement, remembering his rider. She laughed as he trotted in circles and snorted at her over his wide shoulder. With a quick pat, they were off, leaving the guard behind.
The ride proved to be tiresome and slightly painful. Her backside ached and her legs felt like mush. She stretched out along Demon's back and let him lead the way. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat in a steady rhythm. It lulled her to sleep and she dreamed.
She dreamt of gray eyes and black hair, of long powerful legs and broad shoulders, of rippling muscles and strong hands. She smiled in her sleep as the man handed her a round band of gold and fell to his knee. Every little girl’s dream, her knight in shining armor coming to proclaim his love.
His expression was loving and soft. Her dream grew foggy and he reached for her with a sudden look of fear. The fear turned to disgust as Pierre wrapped his arms around her naked body and laughed at the man. The man stood and turned as Andra screamed for him to help her. He did not turn back and simply walked away as the ring fell from her fingers.
Andra jerked upright with a scream on the edge of her tongue. She tightened her legs around Demon's sides and looked at the guards. They were unaware of her nightmare and she tucked it away behind her shell as they entered a lovely village.
Her childhood dreams seemed odd now. They were all about women with curvy figures and long flowing hair the same color as hers and sparkling sea green eyes that promised peace and tranquility. The one face that stood out was her aunt, Joaquinn. She vaguely remembered meeting her as a small child on a faraway land of immense beauty. Crimm had stayed there for a while and never spoke of his visit to Andra, although she had pried many, many times.
Andra wished silently that she could recall her mother’s face, which should look like her aunts seeing as how they were twins. She frowned as she searched her memories and came up empty. Someone would know where her mother’s island w
as and she knew who that someone was Crimm!
Andra reassured herself that he would eventually turn up at McKregan Keep and she would force him to tell her how to get to Vacrey Isle. She smiled and laughed out loud, ignoring the guards’ curious looks.
She leaned over Demon's neck and whispered into his ear, “Donna fret o'er me, I will take flight to Vacrey and lea'e this man's world to crumble round them, and if gi'en the chance, I will take ye with me if ye wish where ye can roam free and live with others who are enlightened with ye beauty and intelligence.” Demon's ears pinned back and he snorted, pulling his magnificent head up and down as if he agreed to her suggestion.
Andra pulled her attention to the village that fell at Demon's hooves. Its streets were cobbled and the cottages looked like they had jumped right out of the pages of a fairy tale. Vines hung everywhere and street lamps glistened at every corner. The little shops were amuck with the hustle and bustle of villagers and children. The streets were clean and neat, no mud or dirt in sight. Andra smiled as children ran about chasing one another and threw wads of balled linen at each other.
She caught her breath as she looked up. In the distance, McKregan Keep loomed from the mountain's base. Its gray white walls reached to the sky in perfect columns and peaked arches. Red and silver banners flew from the rounded rooftops and danced in the light wind. They continued through the village and plodded along the cobbled street that led to the keep. Tall trees lined the street and swayed gently in the wind as if to welcome her.
The street gently tilted upwards and opened into the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. The drawbridge of the keep was down over a crystal clear mote. Lily pads glided across the water’s surface and tall white flowers grew along the banks.
Once inside, the cobbled street started again and led to another garden at the massive arched entrance. The garden surrounded the keep and worked itself in mazes out to the protective stone walls. Stone benches and tables sat under trees and along the walls of the inner manor. Flowers bloomed in every nook and crevice. Huge blooms hung from the trees and filed the air with a heavenly fragrance.
By sunset, she was curled up in a massive bed, besieged with red and silver pillows. The bottle of scotch on the bedside table was open and half full. Andra was more relaxed than she had ever been. Her stomach was full and her naked body stretched lazily as she closed her eyes. She yawned and rubbed her backside.
Sleep begged her to visit and she wilted as it tried to claim her. The alcoholic effects ran through her veins like whispers of pine needles on the skin. Her insides tingled and her heart grew mushy thinking about the warrior who was trying to bed her.
Her reprieve lasted only a short while as a knock wretched her eyes open. She sat up as Laird Kagan entered. She was too sleepy and too encumbered by scotch to care that she was nude. She rolled her eyes at him and fell back onto the pillows.
“I ha'e need of ye.”
“Can it wait?” she asked dryly.
“Nay, pain donna wait on the weary,” he replied softly as she swung her shapely legs to the floor.
Brazen and bold she stood, naked, and stretched. She slowly took the sheet and wrapped it around herself. She pattered toward Kagan, clad only in his kilt and stifled a yawn.
“Back rub?”
“Aye,” he muttered as he ushered her through the door to his bedchamber.
His heavy body sagged to the bed and stretched out on his tight stomach. Andra grinned; she would be wicked this night. He knew she would be tired from the journey and still he wanted his back rubbed. She would give him a rub he would never forget. The sheet dropped to the floor and she climbed up onto his buttocks. His butt tensed under her naked flesh and Andra's drunken smile broadened.
“Rub!” he ordered.
“I am afraid, one handed rubbin' is all I can muster tonight,” she whispered as she leaned forward, letting her long curls caress his back.
“Rub,” he roared as she scooted her thighs along his waist.
“Ye are so tall that I will ha'e to sit on the lower part of ye back to reach ye shoulders and neck,” she whispered as she sat astride him.
Her mound of curly hair stroked his back and he groaned as she spread her hand across his shoulder blade. She rubbed gently, kneading at the tense muscles and urging them to relax.
“What ha'e ye been doin' to tire ye muscles?” she asked.
“I needed a sword,” he curtly replied as she leaned to place a kiss on his spine.
She stretched to his neck, cruelly letting her nipples stroke his shoulder blades. She rubbed and breathed on his neck and held him tightly between her legs. With her inhibitions vanishing under the influence of the scotch, she placed kisses on his neck, his shoulder, and his spine. She eased down, leaving a trail of fire down his spine straight to the edge of his kilt.
He groaned as she stretched up the length of him. She teased him wantonly as she stroked his biceps and licked his ear. He could smell the scotch on her breath but could not stop the deep primal growl that sent shivers of excitement up her spine.
She sat up and rocked gently on his butt, pulling his kilt up so that his skin touched hers. Her loins flamed and she moaned softly as she slid her hands down his legs arching her back to reach as far as she could.
“Woman!”
“Aye, that is what I am,” she teased.
“Do ye wish me to break my oath?”
“Aye,” she whispered.
The gigantic man rolled over underneath her, capturing her round soft hips and sat her astride his pulsing manhood. Her tender mound of womanly flesh caressed his shaft and he arched under her in need. His hands held her hips in place as he arched again, letting her know he wanted her.
“Mine to command,” she whispered as he slid his hand up her waist, reaching for her breast.
He stilled at her words and dropped his hand to his side. No one had ever commanded him, none had ever dared. His eyes hardened as she leaned forward and rubbed his nipples. He went completely stiff as she caressed his tight rippled abdomen. Complete silence claimed him as she curiously explored his chest and midriff.
Forcing himself to close his eyes, he let her exploration continue even though it was a maddening dance across his skin. Battle strategies came to mind as she leaned forward and let her hair billow around his body. Perhaps if he went about this entire game as if it was a war, he could make better headway.
Her nipples teased his skin as she stretched up his chest and kissed his chin. She cupped his face and licked his lips. This was what he wanted, her docile and giving, wickedly wanting him like no other.
His eye lids flew open and met her misty green highland eyes. He felt the need in her loins as she sat up onto his abdomen. She was hot and slick with desire.
“Do ye think my breasts are too big?” Andra grabbed her breasts with both hands.
“Nay, they are perfect.” His voice was husky and laden with feral undertones.
“Do ye think my eyes are much too big for my face?” She winked at him and he grinned huskily.
“Nay, they be perfect.”
“My lips?” She bent and kissed his chest.
“Perfect.”
“And would ye na lie to get what ye want?”
“Nay.” His answer was barely above a whisper.
“Then tell me what ye want from me in honesty,” Andra insisted.
“Ye.”
“My virginity?”
“Aye,” he drawled, “And more.”
“I ha'e nothing else and that is why I can'na gi'e it to ye,” she whispered as she cruelly rocked against his shaft.
“As my betrothed, tis mine by right,” he answered.
“And when ye get it, ye will'na want me anymore,” she coolly stated as she slid her hands along his arms.
“I will keep wantin' ye cause ye are mine,” he growled as she bent and kissed his chest.
“Nay, ye will lose interest,” she insisted, “Men are like that. They conquer and control and
then move to the next battle, the next lover.”
“Where did ye hear such things?”
“From my brothers, the stable boys, my jousting partners, my trainers, my...”
“That is enough. Have ye ne'er been round a woman?
“Marila and Grace,” she retorted, “They talked bout the ways of men.”
“Marila and Grace?”
“Aye, my brothers,” she paused as her cheeks flamed, “ lovers.”
“Ye mean his whores? That would explain some of ye behavior,” he barked trying to ease his passions, “And the scotch on ye tongue explains the rest.”
“I am ‘na drunk,” she advised as she flipped her hair back from her shoulder, “And what of Grace, was'na she ye whore at one time, did’na ye bed her while ye were at Shinonoble?”
Kagan frowned and tried to remember the woman he had used to ease his shaft the night he had met Andra. He could not recall her face and chose to remain silent.
“It does ‘na matters, na woman taught me how to do this,” she teased as she rubbed her nipples up his chest and licked his chin, “or this,” she whispered as she bit his lip and sucked.
“Nor did a woman teach me how to do this,” she stated as she melted her lips to his and slid her tongue into his mouth.
He growled and sucked on her scotch laced sweet tongue. She pulled away and slid down to his waist. She was finding it hard to concentrate on her task as she shivered in delight.
“Marila did ‘na teach me such things. Calin...” she gulped at Kagan's sudden rage, “did.”
Kagan glared at her, “That puny pup of a man!”
“He was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to kiss when I was fifteen,” she grinned as he frowned. The carefree drunken state she was in edged her farther.
“When we met in the stables, had ye already mastered ye technique?” he gritted out.
A Warrior's Perception Page 8