by Barbara Bard
Kerr waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, then closed his eyes. Greer briefly touched Myra’s cheek, and nodded to Fiona and Ella. “Till later.”
***
A few hours later, Greer organized a few men-at-arms to train the women who volunteered to learn basic skills with a blade. The huge Scottish broadswords were far too heavy for a girl to wield, and a bow too powerful to draw, they opted to learn how to protect themselves with a dagger. Only about thirty women and girls from the castle and villages wished to train, the others refusing. Dividing them up into ten groups of three, each taught by a skilled soldier, Greer handed his students, Myra and Idina, wooden practice blades.
Spreading out in the meadows outside the castle’s ramparts, Greer showed them how to slash and stab, what parts of the body were most vulnerable, and which blows would be nearly ineffective. “Dinnae try tae overwhelm yer enemy,” he said. “He wi’ be bigger then ye. Strike wi’ speed, cut, get outta his way. Move quick, move fast. Slash at his privates, his vitals, his throat if ye can. Cut his leg at the groin, and he wi’ bleed out faster than he can chase ye doon.”
Wearing her lightest gown and one that gave her freedom of movement, Myra clashed her wooden blade against Greer’s, trying to stab and slash him, and never touching him for he forever danced out of her reach. “Ye must nae follow him up,” Greer told her when she tried to pursue him. “Make him come tae ye, be ready. Watch his chest, nae his weapon. His chest wi’ tell ye where he be movin’ tae. He wi’ always switch his blade tae his other hand.”
As Greer closed in on her, Myra ducked under his swinging blade, and slashed him across his belly while spinning out from under his arm. Greer stopped, his grin flashing wide, happy. “That be exactly right, Myra. Idina, it be yer turn now.”
Panting, Myra watched as Idina practiced her knife play against Greer, studying what they both did as well as the mistakes Idina made. When Idina landed a cut across Greer’s shoulder, he stopped and praised her, then it was Myra’s turn again. Discovering that though Greer was bigger and heavier than she, Myra quickly learned how to use that to her advantage. As he slashed at her throat with his blunted weapon, she danced backwards, feigning a stumble. Greer advanced on her, charging forward, only to find she had stepped lightly aside, then stabbed him in the back.
This time she earned not just praise, but a hug and a quick kiss on the mouth. “Ye be doin’ excellent, Myra,” he told her, “but ne’er let that gae tae yer head. Never be cocky, never think the fight be done till yer enemy be dead at yer feet.”
Mock fighting for hours left Myra bruised, weary, and with blisters on the palms of her hand, but satisfied. And confident. As dusk crept across the moors, the instructors and their students ceased the lessons, and wandered back into the bailey for the night. With Greer’s arm over her shoulders, Myra stuck her wooden blade into her belt and walked into the vast dining hall.
Fiona presided over supper, informing Greer and Myra of Kerr’s prognosis. “He is much better now,” she told them as they took their places at the high table. “Ella returned tae the village, says he wi’ be strong enough in a day or two tae leave his bed.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Myra told her, sharing a quick smile with Greer.
“How did the lessons gae?”
Her natural modesty, as well as her hunger, allowed Greer to inform Fiona about the training rather than Myra herself. Only half listening to his praise for both herself and Idina, Myra devoured her meat pie, black bread, cheese, plus a sweet tart, feeling her exhaustion steal over her. She hadn’t slept at all the night before with sitting by Kerr’s bedside, then the hours of physical activity only added to her weariness.
Feeling every bruise from Greer’s strikes to her body, Myra rose from her chair. “I will retire now, Fiona, Greer.”
“Aye, lass, get yer rest,” Fiona told her.
“I wi’ walk ye tae yer rooms.”
Letting Greer take her by the hand, Myra stepped down from the high table to the floor, strolling past the lines of tables lit by candles as the clansmen and their women ate their food while laughing, talking, quarreling or simply dining in silence. Over the din, she heard Greer say, “I be right proud o’ ye.”
Myra smiled. “You’re a good teacher.”
Leaving the vast hall and the noise behind, Myra and Greer strolled up the stone staircase to the floor above where Myra’s guest quarters were. A few men-at-arms stood guard along the corridor, saluting Greer as he passed. His squeezing of her hand brought her gaze up to his face.
“I be right glad ye be here wi’ me, Myra,” he said, his tone low, his green eyes warm, loving.
“You never left me much choice,” she replied, her grin belying her stiff words. “But I am also glad I am here. With you.”
They stood near Myra’s doors with no guards nearby, a few lit torches in their sconces holding back the night. Greer bent his head to her mouth, kissing her slowly. Myra lifted her arms to rest around his neck, her lips parting, inviting him further. His tongue slipped past her lips, teasing her, making her breathless as the sensations she had never felt before coursed through her body. His hands on her hips felt heavy and warm, a welcome touch that added to her excitement.
Greer broke their kiss, gazing deep into her eyes. “Wi’ ye let me take ye, Myra? Make ye a woman?”
For an instant, her mind flashed to the sight of the Earl of Primshire penetrating the Duchess of Greenbriar, and rather than making her afraid, it filled her with lust. Her loins grew heavy and hot, a sweet throbbing ache filling her.
“Yes,” she muttered, her voice hoarse in her own ears. “Yes.”
Chapter 11
Taking her by the hand, his groin on fire, Greer led Myra back to the stairs and up another flight to where his chambers lay. He knew Idina slept in Myra’s quarters with her, yet he had no manservant to look after him. He and Myra would have total privacy to make love in. Knowing she was a virgin, and innocent, who should remain pure until her marriage, Greer wanted her too badly to listen to his conscience.
I mean tae make her me bride.
He also knew he was falling deeply in love with Myra. Not certain if she felt the same, that she was willingly going to his rooms with him with the knowledge of what was to happen made him think she was in love with him as well. Myra was too sensible and too much of a fighter to not resist his advances if she wanted to. Here she was, keeping up with him, her hand in his as he led her to his chambers.
She stepped inside ahead of him into the darkened room as Greer softly closed the door. His honor made him speak.
“Ye sure about this, Myra?” he asked. “If ye say nay right now, I wi’ take ye back tae yer rooms and ne’er say or think a bad word aboot ye.”
Myra turned to him. In the darkness, he could not read her expression. “Do you love me, Greer? Maybe a little?”
“I love ye more than a little. I be falling in love wi’ ye.”
“I think I’m falling in love with you, too. But I have never been in love before, so I cannot say for sure.”
He stepped toward her, sliding his fingers down her arms to hold both her hands. “Though we may hae feelins’ fer each other dinnae make this right. Ye should remain pure until yer weddin’ day.”
“But I don’t want to. I may die before I can be married, and I don’t want to leave this world not knowing what it feels like to be a true woman.”
Pulling her to him, he whispered, “I willnae let ye die, Myra. You hae me oath.”
“Perhaps. I still want this.”
Bending his head, he kissed her, long and deeply, feeling her body respond to his, relishing the sensation of her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her tongue danced with his, teasing, arousing him to greater heights of lust. Craving to run his hands along her firm, naked body, Greer picked her up in his arms. As he strode toward his bedroom, his mouth clamped down on hers, Myra’s arms around his neck.
Without stumbling over the furniture, he took her i
nto the big bedroom and stood her on her feet. “Let me dae this,” he murmured, his fingers trembling as he unlaced her bodice. Myra stood still as he slowly undressed her, her gown sliding off her body into a heap on the floor. She kicked out of her stout shoes as his hands removed the soft kirtle under the gown, adding that to her pile of clothes.
Guiding her to the bed, he lay her upon it. He quickly stripped himself of his belt and sword, his tunic, lienes and boots, then his small clothes. Free from all constraint, his erection stood out from his groin. “Gie me yer hand.”
The starlight filtering in through the window and his night vision gave him enough to see by as Myra held out her hand to him. Grasping it, he closed it upon his hard shaft. “Feel me, Myra. I willnae hurt ye.”
“I know.”
Exploring, she ran her fingers up and down his length, making him shiver in anticipation. Myra had never been touched before, and he must get her fully aroused if he was to not hurt her at his first penetration. She fingered his balls, making him hiss with lust. She withdrew her hand.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“Nay. Quite the opposite.”
Her hand came back, touching him, feeling him until he lay down on the bed beside her. “My turn,” he whispered.
Propping his head on his raised fist, lying on his side, Greer ran his free hand up and down her silky skin. He cupped her breasts, running his thumb over her nipples until they grew into tiny pebbles and her breath came faster. Caressing his hand down over her firm, flat belly, he stroked his hand up and down her body, feeling her shiver in delight, getting her used to his touch.
Then his fingers roamed further, passing over her loins, her private woman’s place where only her hands had ever been before this moment. She gasped, and he stopped instantly. “Dae ye nae like it?”
“Just the opposite.”
Greer dipped his fingers between her labia, questing, seeking, finding her moist nubbin. Toying with it, teasing her, he heard her swift intaken gasp of breath, felt her body shiver under his attentions. Her legs spread in invitation, her hands reaching for him, pulling his face down to hers. He let her take control, let her kiss him, felt her part his lips and push her tongue into his mouth.
Moisture gushed over his fingers, letting him know her arousal was nearly complete. He half rolled onto her, his fingers still teasing her, his manhood pressed against her hip. Myra squirmed under him, lifting her knee to push herself toward him, into his body. “Ye be ready fer me?” he husked against her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed into his mouth. “Don’t tease me.”
Setting himself over her, pinning her to the mattress, he spread her legs with his knees. Kissing her again, his tongue in her mouth, he set his head of his organ against her wet opening. “I wi’ be gentle,” he murmured, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. “It may hurt.”
“I’m ready.”
Using his hips, he pushed his manhood in a little deeper, letting her feel him, get her used to his hardness. Myra spread her legs further, lifting her knees, offering herself to him. Working his way in deeper, he heard her gasp, felt her tension in her body. “Ye be all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
With short gentle thrusts, he pushed his way into her vagina deeper, then deeper still. His own lust craved free rein to pump hard and fast, feel her tightness around his shaft, but he kept the urge contained until her body accepted his invasion. He felt her sex spread as he continued to work inwards until he was all the way in. “There,” he whispered, lying on top of her. “You are mine.”
Myra lifted her legs until her thighs enclosed his hips, allowing him freedom to begin thrusting in and out of her. Fully aroused, her flower’s juices enabled him to glide in and out, heating up them both. Greer felt her fingernails dig into his bare shoulders, her mouth seeking his, her tongue tangled with his rousing him to greater heights of passion.
Her soft moans, her breath in his face told him of the pleasure he brought her, his hard, fast pumping wringing new heights of ecstasy to them both. His hands under her hips lifted her, giving his shaft a better angle as he pounded, gasping for breath, into her body. His climax built, heat rising from his groin and spreading, his pleasure mounting with every thrust.
He knew the moment when Myra’s own orgasm rocked through her, her head fell back as she gave a small scream, her vagina clamping down on his driving shaft in sharp convulsions. Feeling that made him lose all control. His climax exploded, his manhood spurting his seed deep within her. He moaned against her neck, still driving his shaft deep into her, gradually slowing, yet still thrusting hard into her body.
Utterly spent, he relaxed fully upon Myra, breathing hard. Her legs slid off his thighs, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “We belong to each other now,” she murmured, nuzzling her face into his neck.
“Aye,” he breathed. “We dae.”
At last he rolled off of her, taking her with him until she lay snuggled into his arms. He lifted himself up briefly to drag the coverlet up over them both. His arm around her waist, her buttocks tucked into his hips, Greer drew in the scent of her hair, of her, resting his cheek against the back of her head. He listened to the slow thud of her heartbeat, her soft breathing, and knew she had captured his heart fully and completely.
“I love ye, lass,” he murmured.
Yet, he knew she had fallen asleep and hadn’t heard him. Just knowing he had spoken the words was enough for him as he snuggled closer to Myra, and at last he drifted off to sleep.
***
Greer woke the next morning, the sun streaming brightly through the window and across the bed. He lay on his back, and rested his arm over his eyes to shut out the terrible light. His other arm reached across the bed, and discovered it was empty save for him. “Myra?” he mumbled, half thinking she was nearby.
No one answered him. Blinking, he lifted his arm and peered around the room, but Myra was nowhere in evidence. Fearing she had woken and instantly regretted what she had done with him, Greer rose to quickly don his clothes and boots. He noticed her gown and underclothes were gone from the floor. Buckling his sword belt around his hips, he took a moment to bathe the sleep from his face with cool water from the pitcher.
Drying himself, he brushed some of the wildness from his hair, then left his chambers. Hoping to find her in her own rooms, he knocked on the door with his knuckles. “Myra?”
No answer. Not even Idina opened it after hearing his voice. Now truly afraid that she had fled from him after committing what the priests said was a grievous sin, he loped down the stairs and ran across the keep’s front hall to the vast dining chamber. Opening the doors, he strode in and came to a dead halt.
Many people of the castle dined at its tables, glancing up as he entered, the men offering him quick salutes as the women dipped their chins in acknowledgment as he found his feet and walked past them. Myra sat next to his mother, Idina standing behind her as she broke her fast, ceasing her conversation with Fiona as he approached. Myra’s cheeks bloomed with uncomplicated happiness, her clear blue eyes shone as they gazed at him, her smile for Fiona widening as it switched to him.
“Look who finally deigned tae join us, Myra,” his mother commented, staring down as he strode forward.
“Does he always sleep this late?” Myra asked. “Perhaps he is a lazy sluggard.”
“Ach, nae doot.” Fiona frowned down at him as he approached the high table with a grin. “He should ken better, eh? Perhaps he should work harder, I dinnae ken what tae dae wi’ him.”
“Of course he should work harder if he is to be the clan laird someday.”
Climbing the steps, Greer took a moment to bow to both ladies. “Forgive me fer bein’ tardy, Maw, Lady Myra. I hae been weary from much ridin’ and only a wee bit o’ sleep.”
Fiona sniffed. “I cannae believe that. Sit yerself doon, lad, and eat. Ye be late enough as ‘tis. Yer da already been asking where ye be.”
Greer filled his plate as
a servant poured his ale into a pewter mug. “Da be feelin’ better then?”
“Aye. Gae see him afore ye begin lessons wi’ Myra.”
“Riding first,” Myra informed him. “Then with the fighting.”
Shoveling food into his mouth, Greer chewed and swallowed fast, barely tasting what he ate. Below the dais, Jared and Gavin ate their meal more sedately, grinning at his discomfiture. They were part of his teaching force, and he mentally planned to rotate students and instructors so that the students could not get used to only one style of fighting.
“Ye both start organizing the women,” he told them. “In the meadow as afore. I be doon after I gae see me da.”
He glanced at Myra. “Me apologies. We must work wi’ the others first, then the ridin’.”