Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2
Page 9
“Little Brodie would not respond to her touch.”
“Are you telling me you became impotent?”
“Aye. Nothing worked. I even tried to imagine you, but her scent was off, and no matter how much she caressed me with her ample bosoms, I felt even less excited.”
Orla scowled and slapped his arm. “I dinnae need the details of her attempts, Brodie!”
“Now who’s jealous?” He raised a brow.
“But, what of the tales of you wooing and seducing women every night?”
“Lies Orla. The last woman I shared a bed with, for an entire night was you.”
“What? When?”
“When you were recovering from Ranalf’s attack, I used to sneak into your bed and sleep beside you when the night terrors came. After that it became a habit, I often snuck into your bed at night. Morag even caught me once and didn’t say anything.”
“I wonder why Ma said nothing.”
“Mayhap she kenned I was changing,” Brodie said. “The night I found you unconscious was the night everything changed for me. I refused to leave your side no matter how many times Amelia tried to shoo me away. I would often just sit and watch you sleep.”
“That sounds very…”
“Romantic?”
“No, creepy.”
“Och, you never complained. In fact, you could barely keep your hands off me, you saucy wench.” He winked at her.
“I was half delirious Brodie. I didn’t have the strength to fight off a randy brute.” She huffed.
Brodie chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that, love. I ken how obsessed you are with my braw body.”
With that, Orla picked up her pillow and hit him with it.
Brodie grabbed the pillow and pulled her towards him. What started as a tussle over a pillow, soon turned into a tussle within the sheets.
It was a battle Brodie won when it ended with him coming violently inside his new wife shortly after her fingernails scorched his butt cheeks as she screamed her release.
***
Last Name
The next day the Keep was busy with the travel contingent getting ready to head to Macbeth’s Castle in Dunsinane.
Brodie had woken Orla in the early hours of the morning for a rigorous bout of lovemaking, which meant she was a little fatigued. Brodie, much to her annoyance, was full of energy.
He had warm baths drawn for them and breakfast ready for her when she woke.
It was after their bath when they were breaking their fast together wearing nothing but towels, that he surprised her with a parcel. When she opened it, it contained several richly woven garments made of fine wool and colorful linen, including court slippers.
Orla looked upon the clothing in awe.
“What tis this?”
“Tis some clothes for you to wear at court.”
“They are beautiful but where did you get these?”
He blushed slightly and Orla became suspicious.
“Brodie Fletcher, dinnae tell me these clothes are from one of your past lovers.” She scowled.
“No! They were made just for you.”
“How? When? These would have cost much coin…”
“I asked the Clan seamstress to make them for you.”
“And she made all these last night?” Orla looked skeptical.
Brodie blushed again. “She made them last summer.”
Orla looked confused. “I dinnae understand?
“I had them made for you last summer. She already had your measurements, so I chose some material and colors I thought would suit you.”
“Why last summer?”
“I had decided, at least hoped, that someday we would marry, and I wanted you to have nice things.” Brodie shrugged his shoulders and looked embarrassed with the confession.
Orla stilled and stared at Brodie. “You have wanted to marry me since last summer?”
“Aye.”
“That tis… that tis… the loveliest thing I have ever heard,” Orla said before she burst into tears.
“Och, lass dinnae cry.”—Brodie crossed the distance between them, picked her up and settled her on his lap—“Shh love, tis alright now… dinnae cry.”
Orla just buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him.
“I love you, Brodie Fletcher,” she said between intervals of hiccups.
“I love you too, Orla Fletcher,” he said.
Orla raised her head and whispered with reverence. “I have a last name.”
“Aye, you do.”
“I finally have a last name. You gave me a last name.”
She stared at her husband with such an outpouring of love, eyes rimmed with tears. Brodie felt as if his heart was going to explode trying to contain it all.
He held his breath, wondering if she was going to start balling again. Instead, Orla shocked him when she grabbed his head and kissed him. She then climbed him like a tree, straddling his thighs and grinding herself against him.
“I need you now, husband, I cannot wait. Get this cloth off!” she shouted while trying to pull his towel away.
Brodie groaned. He was instantly hard watching his wife turn into a crazed she-cat. He did as she asked and released his hard length to the open air.
He pulled her cloth away, exposing her flushed heat to his. They were kissing with wild abandon when Orla leapt off his lap and knelt between his thighs. She pumped his stiff length twice with her hand before Brodie felt her hot, wet mouth engulf his length. Brodie groaned and threw his head back as Orla sucked and lavished him with her tongue.
Then just as quickly she released him with a popping sound, stood and straddled him. She placed him at her center and lowered her body, allowing his length to stretch her inner walls until she was seated to the hilt.
Brodie held her hips and could barely breathe. He heard her low moan as he pounded into her heat. She rode him in return, grinding down to meet his upward thrusts. Her breasts bounced with each thrust. He lowered his head and suckled her nipples. Brodie held her buttocks, keeping her in place as she rode him hard.
It was a fast, frenzied coupling. The kind he had never experienced before.
They built their need to a crescendo and exploded at the same time. He roared when her contractions set off his climax, and he swallowed her scream with a passionate kiss.
Orla collapsed onto his chest, both still on the chair, breathing hard.
Once they caught their breath Brodie said, “Remind me to buy you garments more often, love.”
They both burst out laughing.
***
Chapter 9 – To Dunsinane
An hour later Brodie had packed their belongings. Readied their horses and seen to his guardsmen.
One thing Orla was discovering about her new husband, he was organized, efficient and practical. He also anticipated her needs.
Before she asked, Brodie informed her he found her bow, quiver, and dagger. He also had her dirk cleaned and sharpened. Her weapons were sitting beside the window.
It was the strangest predicament for someone who was used to fending for herself. She only hoped that she could be of help to him in return.
By the time Orla went downstairs, fifty MacGregor retainers gathered in the Bailey. The contingent included Dalziel and Brodie. Torstein, Njal and Mathias.
Beiste and his family would remain at the Keep with his Warband as there was much work needed to secure their land against raiders.
Amelia was the only person unhappy with this arrangement. She felt it was necessary for her to accompany Orla as it also gave her a chance to visit Macbeth and his wife Queen Gruoch. Macbeth was Amelia’s second cousin.
But Beiste had refused to place Amelia in danger and would not allow his wife to “Hie off across the Highlands without him.” Those were his exact words.
When they were ready to leave, a crowd gathered to bid farewell.
Amelia gave Orla a hug and handed her a parcel of healing herbs and salves should she need
it.
Morag also handed Orla a parcel. It contained an intricately embroidered doll. A soft toy for a little girl.
“Um… thank you?” Was all Orla could say as she stared at it in confusion.
Morag just shrugged her shoulders. “I dinnae ken it either, lass, but best ye take it all the same. Someone needs it.”
Orla had learned over the years to take whatever gift Morag offered, no matter how confusing.
She tucked the parcels into her side bag and got ready to mount.
When they left the Keep, they set a fast pace. Dalziel had given them three days to get to Dunsinane, and it was safer to travel fast and light instead of dallying on the road.
Orla rode surrounded by retainers while Brodie sent scouts ahead each leg of the way.
It was the first time Orla witnessed Brodie at work. He was impressive, and it made her proud that he was her husband. He was adept at his job and she trusted him with her life.
***
A House
The group set a relentless pace with only a few rest stops. Mainly for the benefit of their horses. When they rested Orla sat close to Brodie, he was forever shadowing her wherever she went.
That night the contingent camped by Loch Earn just outside of St Fillans. It was while they were sharing a meal of fresh salmon and oatcakes Orla had prepared, that Brodie broached the subject of living arrangements.
“What do you mean, where will we live? In my cottage, where else?” Orla said.
“I was thinking maybe we should live in my home, now that I have someone to share it with.”
“Your family home?” Orla asked. Thinking about the run-down cottage where Brodie’s father used to live. She was already calculating in her head the number of repairs it needed and what materials she could purchase to make it livable.
“No, I meant our home, on my estate.”
“You have an estate?” she said, shocked.
“Aye, I have an estate and a large manor. Tis run by a small staff, they maintain it while I have been at the Keep.”
“But how?”
“Through my ma’s athair. She came from landed gentry it passed to me as the only surviving male heir.”
“And you didn’t want to live there before?” Orla asked.
“I didn’t want to live there alone. But now I have a wife and… possibly bairns, I think we should move there.”
Orla was wondering if she knew Brodie at all. He had a manor house and an estate with staff?
“Where-ever you are, is my home, Brodie Fletcher,” she said.
“Good answer, Orla Fletcher.” Brodie smiled and kissed her.
***
Satisfaction
On the second day of their trip, Orla rode alongside Torstein.
Torstein expressed his regret that they had not protected her against Aksel.
“I should have kenned he was too eager to join us for this mission,” Torstein said.
“Dinnae fash yourself, Tor he didn’t harm me. Have you kenned him long?” Orla asked. Hoping that Torstein would not grieve for a close friend.
“Two summers. He gained our trust quickly, but I ken now he mis have been spying for Rognvald all that time.”
“How long have you kenned Njal and Matthias?”
“Since we were boys,” Matthias piped in.
“Aye, I trust them with my life,” Torstein said. “Njal was wary of Aksel from the beginning, but I didn’t listen to him.” Torstein looked regretful.
“Aye, no one ever listens to small men,” Njal said in a rumbly voice.
Given that Njal was the largest man she had ever seen, Orla wondered if he was serious until she saw him grinning.
“I wish ye well on yer marriage, peedie bird,” Torstein said.
“Thank you.” Orla smiled at him.
“Aye, twas a beautiful service, I had tears when yer husband spoke of your hand-fast,” Njal said in all seriousness. “I damn near wept like a peedie bairn.”
“The vows were verra poetic. Yer husband should be a bard,” Matthias smirked.
Orla chuckled.
“If ye change yer mind and yer husband doesn’t satisfy ye, come to me and I’ll show ye how a real man cares for his woman,” Torstein said with a grin.
Before Orla could respond, Brodie and his destrier forced their way in between them.
“I satisfy my wife all the time, especially when I make her scream with pleasure!” Brodie said while glaring at Torstein.
Orla groaned with embarrassment.
Torstein stifled a laugh. It was so easy to rile the brute; he thought.
***
Two Blades
After another day’s hard ride, they stopped for the night by the River Tay in Perth. It was during this time the men relaxed while some trained and sparred together.
While Brodie was walking the campsite seeing to his guardsmen, Orla sat on a tree stump watching Dalziel train with his daggers. She was in awe. She had watched him spar with others before and he was light on his feet but deadly.
Noticing he had an audience, Dalziel said, “You did well protecting yourself against Aksel, with your dirk, but I can teach you how to work with two blades if you wish.”
Orla jumped at the opportunity.
They spent the next hour sparring with daggers as Dalziel gave her lessons in self-defense.
“Breathe, Orla,” he said. “Clear your mind. The knives must become a part of you, an extension of your body. The way you become one with your bow is the same with blades. However, in close combat these are the more effective.”
Dalziel stood directly behind her and grabbed her neck. Holding firm. “Now use the knives to get out of my hold. Dinnae worry about hurting me. Use everything you’ve got.”
Orla counterattacked. Slashing behind her, but Dalziel was faster. He twisted his body away each time and blocked her blade with his own.
His skill level impressed Orla.
“Use your back, your buttocks like I taught you,” he said.
Orla used her bottom to jerk back against his hips to escape his hold. It was working.
That was how Brodie found them. Bodies connected and out of breath.
“What’s this?” Brodie growled.
“Training. Orla needs a lot more of it,” Dalziel said, releasing her.
“Why didn’t you ask me to help you train Orla? I am good with knives.” Brodie sulked.
Dalziel snorted.
“I am!” Brodie glared at Dalziel.
“Husband, if I need lessons in wielding an axe, I ken you are the best, but you have to agree, Dalziel is better with daggers.”
“Mayhap Dalziel and I will need to have a session?” Brodie folded his arms across his chest and challenged Dalziel.
“No, Brodie, you will not cut into my training time.” Orla scowled at him.
“Fine, but you better keep your randy hips away from my wife’s ass, Dalziel!” Brodie walked past Dalziel and made a ‘V’ sign with his first two fingers. He pointed them at his own eyes and then at Dalziel. Then silently mouthed, “I’m watching you.”
Dalziel silently mouthed, “Fuck off,” in return.
***
Mercenaries
It was on the third day when they were set upon just outside of Scone in the province of Gowrie.
Brodie knew this last stretch would be the most treacherous. Viking invaders came across the North Sea and used the River Tay as an entryway into the heart of Scotland.
The contingent had just stopped to water the horses. Fortunately, they were already on high alert. When the attack came, Brodie pushed Orla behind him and blocked an enormous fist from hitting him in the face.
Concern for Orla spurred him on as several men came running out of the woods.
Brodie roared, reached behind him, pulling out his square head battle axe strapped to his back. He swung it at his attacker, severing the man’s arm. He spun his axe around and used the blade to prevent another attacker’s sword aiming for his che
st. Twirled his axe again angling it at another man’s thigh slicing deep to the bone. At the same time Brodie used the handle to block yet another’s attacker’s blade.
Orla stood in awe of her husband. His body shielded her as he dispatched one man after another with his battle-axe. She had never seen a large man move so fast with such graceful, effortless movements. He anticipated his aggressors every move, which cost them their lives.
No matter how many men came at him, no matter what kind of weapon they wielded, Brodie did not flinch or hesitate. Instead, she watched as her husband methodically cut a path of destruction through the sea of men.
Orla took mental notes that she was definitely going to take battle axe lessons from him.
It relieved Brodie to see Orla keeping out of danger.
He knew the others had formed a circle around her. He saw Torstein and his men engaged in combat, and their fighting abilities impressed him.
Brodie saw Dalziel putting his daggers to good use. Dalziel was lightning fast his victims had no idea they had been cut. Brodie watched the shock on the faces of men, their swords raised, looking down in horror as their intestines spilled onto the ground. Meanwhile Dalziel had already moved on to his next victim.
Scanning the surrounding area, he saw most of his men were engaged in combat and they were winning.
Whilst taking stock of his men, Brodie was momentarily distracted and had not realized Orla was no longer behind him.
Two attackers surged forward, taking Brodie by surprise. One of them threw a small axe at him. Brodie had just enough time to deflect it from lodging in his shoulder. But he was too slow to stop the second attacker from barreling into his side and knocking him to the ground. The force winded him.
His opponent stood over him and swung his blade to deliver a killing blow. But before he could, an arrow pierced the man’s neck and then another his chest. He stumbled backwards and fell down dead.
Brodie looked at the direction of the arrow and his heart lodged in his throat when he saw his wife balancing on the branch of a tall tree, shooting arrows from the sky. Her aim was true every time.
If Brodie were not angry, he would have been proud.
By the end of the skirmish, the bodies of the dead attackers numbered thirty-seven. The MacGregors only registered a few minor injuries.