by Barbara Bard
“Ye best cease heaping praise oan her, lad,” Kerr commented dryly. “It be gone tae her head now.”
Myra laughed. “I’m hardly conceited, Kerr.”
“What be that name me warriors be calling yer wee group o’ fighting friends?” Kerr asked, his brows hiked. “I believe it be ‘Myra’s Mayhem’.”
Giggling uncontrollably, Myra covered her face with her fingers, her face heating. “I did not intend for that to happen.”
“The men dae be pursuing their hands in marriage, ye ken,” Fiona said. “The lasses hae their pick o’ fine husbands.”
“They nae gonna return tae their villages, then?” Greer asked. “I think they be welcome tae stay and raise families, eh?”
“Of course,” Fiona answered, nibbling on her bread. “They be good lasses, all o’ them.”
“Myra’s Mayhem,” Myra repeated, still giggling. “We should keep learning our skills and become full fledged warriors.”
She caught both Greer’s and Kerr’s frowns of disapproval. Even Fiona shook her head.
“Ye cannae hae babies and be a fighting force,” she said. “Keep yer skills up fer self defense, aye, but leave the being warriors tae the men.”
Shrugging, still happy, Myra agreed. “I enjoy the learning and the training, and we can be an example for other girls on how to defend themselves.”
Greer nodded. “I hae nae problem wi’ that. Da agreed that ye may hae one o’ the new foals that be droppin’ soon. From the herd we stole.”
Stunned, Myra glanced from Greer to Kerr to Fiona and back. “Really? One of the babies?”
“Aye. Ye need tae learn more aboot horses and this be a good way tae start.”
Myra flung her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Thank Da,” Greer replied with a grin. “It was his idea.”
“I’ll kiss him in a moment.”
She did more than kiss him, Myra embraced him so tightly he complained that she was planning to break his spine. He grinned down at her. “Ach, lass, ye brought much honor and joy to our clan.”
She rested her hand against his chest. “And you took me in and gave me a home when I needed it most.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at Greer. “And he saved my life. Without you all, I would be dead, tortured by that monster.”
“Right glad we did,” Fiona added, taking Kerr by the hand. “Come, laird. It is late now.”
Watching them walk away, Myra felt Greer slide his hand into hers. Turning, she found his face close to her own, his emerald eyes filled with love. “Come tae me chambers,” he whispered.
A slow smile spread her lips, a feeling of sweet anticipation filling her loins. “I would love to.”
Striding at his side, she observed that the hall was nearly empty as the warriors sought their beds. Much of the castle was also devoid of its occupants in the corridors or on the stone steps as she and Greer strolled up them hand in hand. Taking her inside his rooms, Greer didn’t bother to light a taper. Myra followed him to his dark bedroom, the moon offering the only light. In its golden beams, they undressed each other, their clothes falling to the floor at their feet.
Reaching down, Myra placed her hands on his smooth, silky erection, his skin flowing under her hands as she stroked her hands up and down its length.
“This is incredible,” she whispered. “Like velvet, yet so hard.”
“It be how we make babies,” he murmured, his fingers traveling lightly up and down her back. “When I come, I spill me seed intae ye.”
“So I may already be with child?” she asked, peering up at him.
The moonlight turned his hair to gold, his eyes in deep shadow. “Only if ye be fertile now. Ye hae yer monthlies?”
“Not for weeks.”
He placed his firm hands on each side of her face, then kissed her slowly, with love. “If ye carry me bairn, ye wi’ make me the happiest o’ men.”
“Then I hope I am.”
Greer backed into the bed and sat down, taking her down with him. He lay back, Myra sprawled on his chest, their legs entangled. Her hair spilled down to shroud them both as she kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth. As before, the sensation of his tongue dancing with hers aroused her, heat filling her lower body. Moisture dripped from the place she bled from every month, an erotic feeling she could not get enough of.
His arms around her back, Greer rolled her over until she lay on her back, but Greer remained on his side. His fingers played with her breasts, making her gasp as a jolt of pleasure when his thumb and forefinger roused her nipples into instant pleasure. Knowing how much he liked having her hands on his manhood, Myra stroked up and down, her hands cupping the heavy sacs behind it. She heard his swift, sucked in breath, and knew it brought him the same excitement he brought her.
But, oh, when his hands trailed down her belly to the split between her legs and delved inside, all thought fled from her mind as the delicious sensations his fingers wrought from her filled her body. She moaned, her legs spreading, feeling the delightful passion that rose along with the sinful lust. She knew it for what it was. Lust, the very thing priests preached against. She craved his body more than she craved food.
“I need you,” she muttered thickly.
“Nae yet. Ye nae be aroused.”
“I am.”
For answer, Greer’s mouth swooped down upon hers, his tongue bringing her to new heights of desire, her savage need increasing. With his fingers toying with her nubbin, his tongue tangled with hers, Myra thought she would go insane with need. Her center gushed as her thighs spread, inviting him to mount her. Perhaps his own desire took charge of him, for at last he lay on her, his manhood probing the entrance of her tunnel.
When he took her, his thick shaft invading, spearing her, Myra felt both pain and intense pleasure as his thrusts stroked in and out of her. He glided on her juices, the feelings his organ brought her she had no name for. She clutched his back with her fingernails, his head beside her on the bed, his hips pounding her body.
As his pumping quickened, grew faster, so did her breath. The ecstasy climbed higher, the heat in her body spreading. She knew her climax approached, her passions rose to claim her, her core began to convulse and shiver. Riding on its intense pleasure, Myra flowed with it, never wanting it to end. Atop her, Greer’s body stiffened, his shaft within her spasming even as the walls of her core clamped down on him.
She moaned, clutching Greer to her, both of them panting, gasping, coming down from the heights. Relaxing, content to have his weight on her, to breathe in his musky, masculine smell, Myra kissed his neck, under his jaw. Though the words “I love you” rose to her lips, she didn’t want to spoil the moment with mere words. She felt his love for her, just as she knew he felt hers for him.
“When at last he rolled off her, pulling her to him, Myra felt safe within his encircling arms. With her juices and his seed trickling out from between her thighs, Myra fell asleep.
***
Waking just before the dawn, Myra dressed quietly, not wanting to rouse Greer. He turned over under the coverlet, muttering something in his sleep, then lay still again. In the corridors, the torches had burned down to mere flickers, but their faint light gave her enough light to see by as she walked to her own chambers and silently opened the door.
Idina roused instantly. “Myra?”
“Yes. Sorry to wake you.”
In the darkness, Myra heard her immense yawn. “What time it be?”
“Close to dawn. Go back to sleep.”
“Nay. Were ye wi’ Greer?”
“Yes, but I would ask you to not tell people. There are enough rumors already.”
“Ach, everyone think the world o’ ye. Nae be one who would judge ye fer sleeping wi’ him. Well, the priest might.”
“Don’t tell him.”
As Myra fumbled for flint and steel in her bedchamber to light a candle, she heard Idina get up from her pallet in
the anteroom and pad barefoot toward her.
“What if I get pregnant, Idina?” Myra asked as the taper illuminated much of the room. Clad in the simple kirtle she slept in, Idina sat down at the table, watching her closely.
“Ye fearing Greer willnae ask ye tae marry him?”
Myra half turned away. “I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t.”
“All men hae a trace a cowardice in them when it come tae asking a lass tae marry. He wi’.”
“How do you know so much?” Myra asked, sitting down with her. “You’re not any older than I am.”
“I dinnae ken how I ken it,” Idina replied slowly. “I just dae. Men often be like lads, brave one day, a craven the next. Greer hae all the courage in the world except tae ask fer yer hand.”
“Is he afraid I’ll reject him?” Myra leaned forward. “That I’ll say no?”
“Most likely. Aye.”
“But Fiona says all the clansmen are asking you and Morgana and the others to marry you. Why are they not afraid to ask?”
“They nae be in love.”
Myra slapped her hand on the table, exasperated. “I should think it would be the other way around.”
“Think o’ it, Myra. A man who lost his heart hae everything tae lose. These warriors risk little. A lass tell him nay, he move oan tae the next. A man in love, rejection hurt worse than a spear thrust tae the belly.”
“Oh.” Myra thought about that, and tried putting herself in Greer’s place. If she were the one to do the asking, and feared the answer would be no, she admitted to herself that Idina might be correct. Greer feared that she would reject him, and she realized how easily she could. Not that she would, of course, but with what she had accomplished, any warrior would want her to wife. As she had once jested, Myra could have her pick of husbands.
“Doesn’t he realize I want no other man than him?”
“He may, he may nae. Gie him time. He will ask ye.”
Myra eyed Idina sharply. “Did a man ask you to marry him?”
Idina shunted her eyes away, and was silent for a long moment. “Aye.”
“Who? Anyone I know?”
“Jared.”
Erupting from her chair, Myra charged around the table and hugged her friend. “That’s wonderful, Idina. He’s a wonderful man, and will do you honor. Please tell me you said yes.”
“I said I would think oan it.”
“What’s to think about? He’s handsome, kind, a brave fighter, and mine and Greer’s good friend.”
“I ken all that,” Idina replied, rubbing Myra’s shoulders and smiling. “I just dinnae ken if I be ready fer a husband, bairns.”
“You can say yes, and have a long engagement. That way, no other girl will snap him up. He is quite a catch.”
“He dae hae status in the clan.”
Myra sat back down in her chair. “Are you afraid he won’t love you? I know he will.”
Idina finally nodded. “Aye. I dae be afraid he wi’ ne’er love me.”
Realization dawned on Myra. “But you love him.”
“Fer a long time.”
Myra rested her head in her hands with along moan of despair. “You are really confusing me. A man won’t ask a woman to marry him out of fear of rejection. But you, a woman, refuses to marry the man she loves even when he asked her to.” She lifted her face. “Tell me – why.”
“I love him, Myra,” Idina whispered, her face lowered. “I be afraid he wishes tae marry a Myra’s Mayhem, and not Idina the lass.”
“I do not believe for an instant that Jared asked you to marry him because of your reputation as a fighter,” Myra said sternly. “He asked you because he has feelings for you. Why don’t you try something novel? Unique? Like – talking to him.”
“I cannae. He be wounded now. He willnae wish tae talk tae me now.”
Myra stood. “Get up. Put your clothes on.”
“Why? It nae be dawn.”
“Don’t care. Do it.”
Spinning on her heel, Myra marched into her bedchamber to wash, don fresh clothes and brush her hair. By the time she was finished, cocks crowed in the bailey below, and pink laced the horizon. The black outside turned to dark grey as Myra took Idina by the hand and left their chambers.
“Myra, please dinnae. Stop, I beg ye.”
Ignoring her protests, Myra marched her to Jared’s door. Without bothering to knock, she flung it open. Jared was already awake, propped up on his pillows, gaping at them in surprise.
“What be this?” he asked, his expression confused.
Myra shut the door behind them. “You asked Idina to marry you, is this correct?” she demanded, her tone cool.
“Well, aye,” Jared replied, his eyes switching from Myra to Idina’s form and back. “I dae wish tae marry her.”
Idina huddled into herself, her shoulders rounded, her face toward the ground. Myra felt an instant of pity, only an instant, then plowed on, merciless. “Do you have any feelings for her, Jared?”
“Myra, what are all these questions?”
“Do you have feelings for her, Jared?” Myra ground out the words.
“Why, aye, I love her. I be in love wi’ her since the moment she came tae the castle.”
“Right then.” Myra glanced from Jared to Idina. “My work here is done. You two will remain in this room until Idina accepts your proposal of marriage. I will have breakfast sent up for you. You both have a great deal to talk about.”
Whirling, Myra stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 31
Another week rolled by since Avery’s death and King Edward’s demands for the Duke of Greenbriar’s wife. Primshire knew he was in dire violation of the King’s command, and realized that by keeping Jessica with him, he risked his own head rolling off the chopping block. As he healed, he plotted. He sent his new seneschal, Lord Buckston, to recruit more men-at-arms and mercenaries to replace those recently killed, and planned how to kill the black-haired wench. And if he killed that obnoxious Greer MacEilish in the process, then he would rejoice.
The pain of his wound kept the worst of his urge to kill at bay. He still felt them, churning away in the darkness of his soul, but he kept them there. Though his sleep was haunted by the desire for blood, for the screams, he still functioned as the Earl of Primshire, and controlled them.
“If I can learn to control them, keep them on a leash,” he mused as he stared from his window down into the bailey, “I can keep Edward happy with a peasant’s head and still continue to kill.”
That notion lifted his spirits, which had been low since the death of Lord Avery and his failure to retrieve his stolen stock.
“Instead of killing Greer MacEilish,” he muttered, grinning, “I will capture him instead. Hold him for ransom until my beasts are returned.”
Primshire laughed aloud. “Then I will kill him. Slowly. Listen to him scream.”
The castle’s dungeons were deep, he remembered. Though they hadn’t been used for years, he pictured himself chaining the MacEilish heir in a cell, then using the edge of his blade on him. Castrate him first, then slowly cut him, relishing in the man’s screams.
“Perhaps Myra should join him,” Primshire said, chuckling to himself as he visualized them hanging, side by side, their screams intertwined even as their blood mingled on the stone floor. “No one can hear them. No one will know.”
For the first time, he considered using his own prison cells for his killings. “Why not?” he asked himself, pacing his chambers. “I must hide what I do once I hang a peasant and send Edward his head. Why not kill them in my own dungeons, toss their bodies in a corner when I’m done? Let them rot down there. Only I will have the key to the doors. No one will ever know what happened. They will vanish as though they never existed at all.”
Feeling pleased with himself, Primshire dined that evening with Jessica seated beside him. While he waxed with his new healing and new plans, she seemed to have shrunken inside herself. He
r dark sloe eyes failed to twinkle in that erotic way that never failed to entrance him. She had piled her wealth of hair atop her head, tendrils hung limp and lank against her now bowed neck. Hardly speaking, Jessica appeared to only half listen to his attempts to make conversation.
“I say, my dear,” he finally asked. “Are you all right?”
Lifting her hand with its wine cup and her face, she tried to smile. “Of course.”
“But you seem, shall we say, distracted. Surely you are not fretting over Edward’s command are you?”