by Wine, Mary
The Head-of-House tilted her head slightly. “Back in me kitchens are ye?”
Cora walked further into Orla’s domain, stopping only a few feet from the Head-of-House. “Is there a reason I can nae venture here?”
Orla lifted one eyebrow. “The sheet is still clean. And I hear ye broke a bowl when ye threw the laird out of yer chamber.”
Cora felt her temper rising. But a memory stirred of her brother’s new wife when she’d arrived on Mackenzie land as a hated captive. The Head-of-House of the Mackenzie had taken a rod to Rhedyn. But Fenella had exceeded the ten blows allowed, and it fell to Cora to restore order by taking the rod to the Head-of-House.
It had been one of the few times Cora had acted as mistress. It had been her first experience with shouldering adult responsibility.
But the hardest part of the lesson had been discovering how important it had been for her and Fenella to work together after the event. For their battle would affect everyone in the Mackenzie stronghold.
A lesson which was very pertinent as she faced Orla. If Cora stayed on McKay land, she and the Head-of-House would have to learn to put aside their differences if there was to be harmony in the stronghold.
If not, well, the winter might be very long indeed.
Dismissing the Head-of-House was in the mistress’s power, but it was a foolish bride who forgot she was a stranger in her new home. Retribution could take many forms, some merely a discomfort, others might be deadly.
“Isn’t the first duty of a wife to ensure the house is smoothly run?”
Orla stiffened in response to Cora’s inquiry.
“Or perhaps I should say a bride with good character should seek to earn her place through more than bed service. Yes?”
It was a scarlet topic, but Cora stared directly at Orla. Cora wouldn’t be the one blushing because she’d answered.
Orla took a long moment to contemplate Cora. Her stern expression relaxed a bit as she appeared to see Cora for the first time as someone more than an unwelcome stranger.
“Not a bad way to be thinking,” Orla conceded.
A few mouths dropped open in response. Orla proved just how alert she was, for she turned and pegged those gaping at her with a stern look. The activity at the worktables returned to normal.
Well, ye won the point, but now ye are stuck in the kitchens.
Cora smiled at her own bittersweet victory. The sharpness of it was far too amusing to be missed!
*
There were two meals a day in the great hall.
With the days growing shorter and the harvest finished, the fare offered was strictly measured. Whatever was in the storerooms had to last until the following summer. The first meal was simple, porridge and some late-season fruit. The main meal was supper. It was served late in the afternoon but long enough before sunset to allow for the cleaning of the kitchens and dishes. Younger children were set to watch for when Orla gave the word to begin serving. They would run in all directions in the stronghold to cry out the news.
The McKays were an impressive clan. When the Retainers filled the hall, their number was formidable. Orla was to be commended, for she knew how to manage her resources.
Faolan was at the head table looking slightly ill at ease. Yestin was seated beside him and sent him a stern look. Cora smiled as she looked in from the passageway opening at the end of the hall. During his banishment at the towers, Faolan had embraced his own wild tendencies.
They had more in common than he realized.
I thought ye were not going to beg?
Oh, she wasn’t, Cora assured herself. Yet, neither was she going to duck her chin and be shuttled off home like some errant, half-grown child.
She entered the hall, and the conversation level dropped off until there was nothing but her footsteps on the stone floor.
Unbridled. She truly was. But to be such, she’d needed to cultivate confidence. Cora used every bit of it to keep her pace slow and steady. The moment Faolan looked up, she felt the connection between them. No matter if he sent her home within the hour, Cora knew without a doubt that she’d always remember the way his gaze made her heart accelerate.
Damn him…
Her temper stirred, but it had a purpose. Cora maintained her composure as she reached the end of the hall where the high ground was. The laird’s table was resting on a platform with three steps leading up. Faolan’s captains were seated to his left.
Cora stopped and reverenced. It gained her a murmur of approval from the McKay. Faolan didn’t raise her, though. She remained in position for a long moment before Yestin leaned close to Faolan and muttered next to his ear.
“Join us,” Faolan bit out.
He pressed his lips into a hard line of frustration as Cora made no effort at all to control the way her own lips curved into a smile.
At his expense.
Well, he shouldn’t have kissed ye…
No, he shouldn’t have, and Cora wasn’t going to think too hard upon just whether or not she wished he hadn’t.
Ye enjoyed it full well…
True, but she might just have to live with the memory of it while enduring another man’s touch.
A Retainer had stood to follow her up onto the high ground. He pulled out the large chair waiting for her. Orla might have been wearing a disapproving look, but the Head-of-House knew her duties well. Her staff was waiting with a bowl of water. The first woman presented it to Faolan, so he might wash his hands, while another followed him with a length of linen. Cora was next and then on to each captain in order of age.
Orla was in the mood to prove her superior skills. The plates for the high table were salted next. Salt was poured over the plates, and then it was rubbed into the surface with a bit of stale bread before being wiped clean. Such service ensured there was no poison. Each plate was sat neatly in front of them all the while behind them, young boys stood with each person’s cup. They were all from proven loyal families and each earning their future place by safeguarding those drinking vessels.
It was a noble service to be certain. The royal palace would not see better. Not even in England. Faolan looked toward Orla and raised his goblet to her. The Retainers slapped the tabletop in approval.
Cora felt a sense of accomplishment growing. Now that her personal battle with the Head-of-House seemed to be ending, Orla was turning her attention to making it clear she accepted Faolan as the new laird. He, in turn, acknowledged her position.
Both had swallowed their pride for the sake of unity.
No one missed it, but dinner began with a far more jovial mood than had been felt in some time. The lower tables were full of conversation, and Cora looked down to see a fine supper laid in front of her. She took a moment to inhale the scent of roasted meat, fresh fruit, and newly baked bread. There was even a bit of sweet butter since the cows hadn’t dried up yet.
There was a yelp from further down the high table.
Cora turned with her mouth full of bread to see Yestin delivering a slap to the side of one of the captain’s heads. But Faolan was staring at her, his expression dark and his gaze on the opening of her doublet. Cora looked down quickly, but there was no more on display than there had been that morning.
“What do ye mean dressing like that?”
Faolan’s tone was low, but she didn’t miss the sharp edges. Cora swallowed what was in her mouth and decided to return to her meal without answering him.
She lifted the piece of bread up again, but Faolan grasped her wrist before she was able to bite into it once more.
“There is naught wrong with me clothing, Faolan.”
“I disagree.” He cut back quickly. “I will find ye a different companion. Brynna should no’ have allowed ye out of yer chambers with those buttons open.”
“Ye are overbearing,” Cora informed him. “My summer dresses show far more of me neckline.”
His lips thinned. “Dresses ye will no’ be wearing here.”
Cora tried to pull her wri
st from his grip. “Since ye have decided I do nae suit ye as a wife, there is little worry ye will see me in them.”
His eyes narrowed, and the grip he had on her wrist tightened. Cora drew in a stiff breath as his strength bit into her. Faolan suddenly stood up. The chair wasn’t too heavy for him. It went scooting back as the boy holding his goblet jumped to the side.
Faolan reached down and hooked the back of the chair she was seated in. He pulled it back with ease, leaving her gasping at the sheer amount of power in his body. His lips twitched up in response to her astonishment.
A moment later, he’d grasped her wrist again. Memories flashed through her brain but not fast enough for her to avoid being hefted over his shoulder once again.
The hall burst into laughter.
“Enjoy yer meal!” Faolan called out to his men.
“Enjoy yers, Laird!” someone yelled up from the main floor.
More laughter followed. Cora felt her face burning as Faolan carried her down the steps of the high ground and on through the side opening of the hall.
“Put me down!” she demanded.
Faolan smacked her bottom in return.
Her temper flared, and she started to straighten up, but Faolan made a turn and started up a stairwell. It was a tight area that promised her a whack on the head if she did rise up.
“Ye have no right to carry me out of the hall, Faolan!” Cora yelled at him the moment he turned her loose.
He kicked the door to his chamber shut in response. At least having her hair pinned up made it so Cora didn’t need to brush the strands out of her face. Instead, she was able to face off with him the moment she was on her feet.
“Lonn was enjoying the sight of yer cleavage, woman.”
“Peeking through the front of me doublet is no’ going to afford him much of a view,” Cora responded. She opened three more of the small buttons to reveal the top of her corset. “Now, there is part of me on display.”
Faolan closed his eyes. He appeared to be fighting for self-control. Cora felt some semblance of thinking returning as she realized she pushed him past his limits.
Ye are playing with fire.
No, she was baiting a wolf. And he had it coming for thinking he could do everything in life alone.
“When ye tell me ye do nae think I am strong enough to be yer wife, Faolan, ye can nae be jealous.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I kissed ye first, Cora.”
Her temper flared up bright.
“Well, ye should never have kissed me.” Cora pointed at him. “I was not yers to kiss.”
Something burned in Faolan’s eyes. He reached out and grasped her wrist. A moment later, she was tumbling into him as he tugged her forward.
“Ye are mine, Cora.” Faolan clamped a hard arm around her body and used it to secure her in place while he kissed her.
It was a hard kiss, but she returned it with every bit of agitation inside her. There was no struggle to regain her self-control. Instead, she threw everything aside in a bid to make the most of the moment.
Desperate?
Cora didn’t know. At that moment, she was a jumble of impulses, and she craved acting upon them like drawing her next breath. She needed to be closer to him, and her clothing was far too hot. Faolan seemed to understand. He opened his arms so he could work the buttons on the front of her doublet. He broke away from kissing her long enough to strip the garment down her arms.
He left it around her wrists, though, binding her arms out behind her.
“No one will see these except me,” he muttered as he gazed on the tempting display the top of her breasts made above the edge of her stays. When he lifted his face, she gasped at the determination flickering in his eyes.
Cora shifted until the doublet dropped to the floor and freed her. She reached forward to work the buttons on his jerkin. “I’ll not be some meek and mild wife, Faolan.”
“What ye will be is mine.” He pulled her close once more.
His kiss was deeper now. He pressed her lips apart and stroked the delicate surface of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Cora gasped, for it set off a whole new level of sensation. Pleasure was building inside of her. She felt like water was gathering in her core, rushing faster and faster.
She had no idea what the end result would be, only that it was something couples risked retribution from the Church and their families to gain.
At that moment, she craved it.
Craved him.
Her waistband loosened, and Faolan was pushing at her skirts, but the hip roll was tied firmly in place. His chest rumbled with a sound of frustration. Cora pushed back, stepping away from him. The separation felt too great.
“Bare yerself for me, lass.”
There was hunger in his tone. It was a demand, and yet, there was a compliment in it, for she could see the way his gaze was stuck to her. A shiver went down her spine as he opened the wide belt that held his kilt in place. The fabric slid down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his shirt and boots.
She knew what a member was.
She shouldn’t have, but riding out with her brother’s men, there had been opportunities to peek.
“Go on, lass,” Faolan encouraged her. “Ye are bold.”
She was.
Cora found the tie to her hip roll and loosened it. Her skirts slid down her hips to puddle around her ankles. She dipped her finger into the valley between her breasts and pulled up the end of the lace, which closed them.
Faolan scooped her off her feet in the same instant. He carried her through the receiving chamber and toward his bed. He didn’t afford her time to look around but followed her down onto the surface of the bed.
His kiss was sweet, deep, and controlled as though he were savoring the moment. He trailed soft kisses along the side of her face as he gently stroked one of her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise.
She shuddered. Sensation roared through her. Thick and sweet. When it hit her head, every last bit of thinking was smothered.
And she wanted more.
Her lack of experience frustrated her. She felt clumsy as she lifted her hands to touch him.
“Aye, lass…like that.”
His words encouraged her. Confidence grew from the dark tone of his voice. It seemed to reflect the same riot of emotions she was in the grips of.
So, they were together.
Somehow, her fingertips were more sensitive than she’d ever realized. In fact, all of her senses felt heightened. Every breath she drew filled her head with his scent. It was intoxicating, luring her deeper and deeper.
“Ye are perfect, Cora,” he muttered against her neck.
He pressed her back, and she pulled him down on top of her. Between her thighs, there was pulsing at the top of her sex. Faolan’s hand glided down the side of her body until he was stroking across her belly and toward the curls which crowned her mound.
Never had she ever thought her body might be so sensitive. Yet his touch made her quiver. It was so intense, she arched back, control completely beyond her ability.
Faolan found the spot that was throbbing. He teased it with the tip of his finger as Cora gripped the front of his shirt.
“What…what are ye doing?”
“Pleasuring ye,” he whispered against her mouth.
He smothered whatever else she might have said with a kiss. This time, it was hot and carnal. For the first time in her life, she truly understood the word carnal. It sent a shaft of enjoyment straight through her core and left her lifting her hips, seeking something more.
She had no idea what it might be.
But Faolan did. He was pushing her closer and closer to some peak. He leaned over her as his finger moved faster and harder. Her heart was pounding so hard, she feared she’d pass out, but the need building beneath the little bundle of nerves at the top of her sex was so intense, it was the only thing in her mind.
It suddenly burst. A sharp cry escaped her lips as pleasure explo
ded beneath his fingers. It was searing and white-hot. Cora twisted in its grip, withering as she felt wrung with the intensity of it. She was suspended between breaths, time frozen while the pleasure spiked through her.
When it passed, she collapsed onto the bed. She was panting, and her skin covered in tiny dots of perspiration. Satisfaction was glowing throughout her body as Faolan leaned down and trailed tiny kisses along the side of her face.
“That is the pleasure we can share, Cora.”
Her mind was clearing as she looked into his eyes. “But…did ye feel it as well?”
He slowly shook his head. “I wanted to show what lay beyond the moment of pain every virgin has to endure.”
“Oh…” Her mind had cleared enough to think. “Aye, I know what to expect.”
And yet she didn’t, for no one had ever mentioned the rapture Faolan had just sent through her body.
“Someone told ye…everything?” Faolan inquired. He was hovering over her as he cupped one of her breasts and passed his thumb across the tip of her nipple.
“Um…not precisely…everything… Do you feel the same if I touch ye?” Cora suddenly wanted to know. She reached for him, sending her hands down in search of his member.
Faolan grasped her wrists and carried her back to the surface of the bed. “No’ tonight, Cora.”
“But ye touched me.” The thought was past her lips before she could stop it. She wasn’t a stranger to the fact that men often did things women were forbidden to. But in the darkness, in his bed, she found it nearly unendurable to be curtailed.
“Aye, I did.” He pressed a hard kiss against her pouting lips. “And as much as the idea of allowing ye to return the favor, I fear I have not the strength to hold onto me seed if ye milk me.”
“Milk ye?” Her mind offered up a vivid picture of just how she might close her hand around his length. “Would that make ye feel as I just did?”
He let out a groan. Cora tried to break his grip.
“Must ye put me in me place even here, where no one sees us?” she asked in frustration.
“Aye,” he rasped. “Tonight, I will have ye, Cora, for no one will ever again have cause to doubt that ye are mine.” The bed shifted as he rolled over her. He settled between her thighs, and it seemed the most natural of things. He released her wrists and framed her face as she felt the head of his member slipping between the folds of her sex. “Ye are mine now, Cora. I promise ye that.”