In the Warrior’s Bed (16 page)

“That’s close to blasphemy, Cullen. Ye’ll be the one in the stocks if ye are overheard.”

“Maybe, but I suppose ye might just consider that fair because you almost landed in their rough grasp this morning.”

She suddenly laughed, the sound bubbling up past her lips before she realized it was coming. “Ye are such a boy sometimes.”

His hand closed in her hair and gave it a gentle tug. He was grinning as he repeated the motion. “Since I’ve pulled yer hair, does that makes me a naughty boy?”

“It does indeed. But give me a moment and I shall find a tree to cut a switch from.”

His expression changed. The teasing light vanished as desire replaced it.

“’Tis too cold for that, besides, it would nae stop me. I’m nae in the mood to behave properly.”

Neither was she…

Bronwyn quivered as she recognized how much she agreed with him. Her body was pulsing with needs that it wanted satisfied. She wanted more than she’d had last night. Needed to touch him more. The surcoat was suddenly too warm and the chemise rough against her sensitive skin.

But the need to touch him was stronger than her desire to rid herself of the discomforts. Reaching forward, she stroked his chest with her fingertips, tracing one sculpted ridge of hard muscle. His skin was hot and smooth and his nipple drew into a hard point as she moved her hand toward it. Would he like it as much as she had if she leaned toward him and sucked it? Her hands slid over it and his skin rippled with a shudder. That little reaction made her bold. Closing the last step between them, she tilted her head and gently placed a kiss on his nipple.

“Sweet mercy.”

He growled through his teeth and grasped her head in his hands. But he didn’t pull her away. Flattening both her hands on his chest she stroked him as she parted her lips to gently suckle his nipple. His chest rumbled with some sound that was half growl and half moan.

It filled her with confidence.

Parting her lips, she allowed the tip of her tongue to tease the little tip. The grip in her hair tightened and she trailed soft kisses across his chest to the opposite nipple. Closing her lips around it, she offered it the same teasing affection.

“Ye learn too fast, Bronwyn.”

Cullen pulled her head away from his chest, raising her face so that his mouth hovered above her lips. “But I’m no complaining.”

He pressed a kiss onto her mouth. It was demanding but slow. He tasted her lips, sliding his across hers in a soft motion that stole her breath. She shivered as delight filled her. Slipping her hands up his chest, she held onto his shoulders, urging him closer.

He sent his tongue into her mouth, invading and demanding, but she opened wide for it. His tongue found hers and stroked it. He teased it again and again until she followed his lead. They thrust and tangled for a long moment before he lifted his head. Desire made his face fierce but it didn’t alarm her.

What it did was excite her. Her passage heated up, her clitoris throbbing gently between the folds of her sex.

“I need to see ye.” His hands slid out of her hair. “All of ye.”

He didn’t reach for her surcoat, but watched her with need etched into his face.

“Show yerself to me, Bronwyn.”

It was a command but one edged with desire. She had never thought a woman might have control over such a strong man, but she did in some odd fashion. He’d stripped her last night but wanted the gift of her surrender tonight.

She wanted to know what that power felt like.

She reached for the buttons on her surcoat, watching his face while he waited for her to comply with his demand. There was no logic to the idea, only the rush of confidence that filled her. For the first time in her life she felt beautiful.

The buttons slid quietly from the buttonholes. Only the first few were closed. She shrugged out of the heavy wool in a few moments. Cullen stood still, giving her his absolute attention.

“More.” He croaked the single word when she stopped.

She drew her finger along the edge of her chemise instead. He frowned, his jaw twitching.

“Sweet tease. Be careful, lass. That’s a game two can play.”

She brushed past him, walking toward the hearth. The fire would make her garment transparent and she knew it. The heat caused the hem to billow softly around her calves.

He chuckled softly, following her in a lazy pace that reminded her of stalking. A mocking grin decorated his lips. With a hard tug he released his belt and his kilt slid down his hips. He caught it up and tossed it aside.

Bronwyn couldn’t help herself, she looked at his cock once again. It was standing straight up from his lower belly, the head crowned with a thick ridge of flesh. Knowing that she’d already taken it didn’t keep her from wondering if he was too large. The flesh looked impossibly thick and long.

He suddenly captured her, closing the distance with one long step. She gasped, but he laughed at her and clicked his tongue in reprimand.

“Distractions often prove fatal.”

He pressed another kiss onto her mouth. This one was hard and unrelenting. His tongue speared into her mouth, boldly demanding what his body wanted. He grasped the sides of her chemise and pulled it over her head.

“Much better.”

He didn’t take time to look at her nude body. Scooping her up, he turned and settled her in his bed without hesitation. The bed rocked and he kicked the bedding down to the foot.

“Now to return the favor.”

He grasped both her breasts in a light grip, and leaning down, licked one nipple, sending a shaft of pleasure straight down her spine. She twisted with the intensity, reaching for something to hold on to. Her hands closed on his shoulders as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

A soft cry hit the canopy above her but she didn’t recognize it as her own. It was too wanton, too passionate. Cullen was unleashing something she had never known lived inside her. She twisted as need clawed through her passage. It seemed to build much faster now that she understood what satisfaction felt like. Her clitoris was begging for attention, her thighs already open in invitation.

Cullen appeared to agree. He slid a hand down her body quickly tonight, stroking her skin but not hesitating at the top of her mons. He parted the flesh protecting her clitoris in a smooth motion.

The first touch made her moan. Pleasure spiked up into her belly. He lifted his head from her nipple to watch her face. That single fingertip pressed slow circles onto her clitoris. The pleasure overwhelmed her and her eyes fluttered shut as the intensity hit her all at once.

All she wanted to do was feel.

“Do ye like that, lass?”

Her eyes popped open because she couldn’t believe he was asking about…about something so intimate.

That teasing grin was back on his face. He slid his finger down the lips of her sex to the opening of her passage. A new sensation hit her as he circled that opening, teasing it. Her hips lifted toward his touch, craving to be filled.

“Ye dinna answer my question.”

“I can’t.”

He chuckled and slid his finger tip back up to her clitoris. “Yer voice sounds like it is working fair well.”

He paused, not moving but only resting on the sensitive bit of flesh. The teasing look in his eyes hardened into a demanding one that she knew well now. The man wanted his way.

“Aye.” She growled the word at him.

He chuckled in response, but his finger moved, sending sweet delight through her. It was tightening again, her belly becoming a pool of hot need. She craved the satisfaction that had ripped through her last night.

“Do ye want me?”

“Why do ye torment me?”

His expression softened. “Can ye nae believe that I want to hear ye tell me that ye crave my possession? And nae just because I know where to rub ye?”

There was something in his tone that touched her deeply. His hand had gone still again, but this time it was because he craved something from her that only she might grant him. Sliding her hands up to his face, she cupped his cheeks and spread her thighs wide in invitation.

“I want ye.”

He needed no more urging. His body covered hers, pressing her down into the mattress again. He didn’t smother her but held his weight above her, giving her enough but not too much. She felt the hard tip of his cock slipping between the folds of her sex.

“I don’t just want ye, Bronwyn. I crave ye.”

He thrust slowly into her. The pace frustrated her until pain nipped at her.

“Easy, lass. It gets easier with repetition, I promise ye.”

His words proved true when he slid deep without much more discomfort. She didn’t ache as she had last night, only a few twinges as her passage accepted his entry once more.

“As ye told me, ye keep yer promises.”

He withdrew and plunged back into her. “I do indeed.”

She didn’t want to talk. There was far too much sensation for her to think about words. Every inch of her body was one huge receptor. Every place their skin touched added to the wealth of delight filling her. She lifted her hips for each thrust from his, learning the rhythm. Each stroke of his cock slid along her clitoris, pushing her closer to the edge. His breathing became rough as hers turned shallow. She strained toward him, seeking release.

It hit her hard. Jerking and ripping at every thought, every idea. The wave of satisfaction was so strong it washed everything away leaving her gasping in limp surrender.

But Cullen joined her in that state, his body driving a few final times into hers before his seed erupted deep inside her. He pressed her hard to the bed as his seed filled her, a growl leaving his lips. But his arms quivered beneath her fingertips exactly as hers did. It was an unspoken thing, but she felt it, that moment when they were simply both slaves to the passion their bodies had for each other. For the moment it was enough to satisfy her pride. The need to struggle against him and their marriage died.

It would sprout anew in the morning, but she allowed it to lie dormant. The bed felt like a perfect sanctuary from the world where she was McQuade and he McJames.

He rolled over, shaking the bed when he landed on his back.

“I swear ye are a siren sent to lure me to my death.” He sat up to grasp the bedding, pulling it up over them both. “But I’m going to die a happy man.”

“If I’m a siren then ye are the sailor set to die on the rocks at my feet. We make the most tragic couple.” She stared up at the canopy above her, suddenly fighting off tears. They burned her eyes as she resisted the weakness.

Cullen sighed. “Ye seem to forget that along with all the other things in this world there is still hope. I prefer to think about that more than the tragic fates that have befallen others. I plan to be the sailor who enchants ye so completely, ye cannot bear to watch me die.”

“That’s not the way the story goes.”

“Ah, but it’s a myth and I’m a modern man, composing my own tale of adventure.”

“Well, I agree that ye are certainly no following anyone else’s rules.” And in all truth, there was a part of her that was enjoying it. To be wanted, even for reasons that she was suspicious of, was still being wanted.

Clearly her mind had gone soft.

He pulled her against him, scooping her up and pulling her into contact with his body. She wiggled, trying to regain some space, but he tucked her against his body, refusing her.

“Be still, lass. I promised to keep ye warm.”

She hissed softly. “I cannae sleep like this.”

His chest rumbled softly with amusement. “And why not? Ye have never tried.”

She was too close to really hurt him, but she slapped a hand down on his chest and it popped loudly in the silent chamber. A second later her hand was captured in a warm hand.

“Enough for one day, Bronwyn.”

She suddenly noticed what he smelled like. His body heat wrapped around her, combining with the satisfaction pulsing through her to drag her down into slumber. The fact that she was sleeping beneath the roof of her clan’s enemy didn’t seem to have any power against the warm arms wrapped around her. Her flesh was content and it ignored everything beyond the man holding her.

For the moment it was perfect.

The royal court of Scotland

“McQuade is demanding to see ye.” Alarik McKorey didn’t bother to hide his smirk from his king. Erik McQuade had stolen enough from him to make any sufferings on his part amusing. “Again.”

James Stuart sighed. The queen sat beside her husband with her ladies near. They worked fine silk threads into embroidery in the private royal receiving room. Anne was making her husband’s shirts, a task that showed affection when done by a wife for her husband. She looked at her husband. “I believe we have heard enough from that man to last a year.”

The king looked at his queen. “I canna ignore him forever. The man is a laird and my treatment of him is watched carefully by the rest of the clans.”

“The man should be so considerate when he talks about his daughter when others are watching him.” The queen kept her voice perfectly smooth and soft, a credit to her tutoring to wear a crown, but there was no mistaking the subtle disgust.

“I believe Bronwyn McQuade will be marrying soon, if she hasn’t already.”

The queen looked stunned. She glanced quickly around the room, frowning at the lowered heads of her maids of honor. Not one of them looked her in the eye.

“I understand this is a particular custom among your clans, but I confess that I find it harsh. I hope you will understand why I don’t remain to hear the man’s displeasure over having his daughter stolen. I have a daughter of my own.” The queen stood. She curtsied to her husband before gliding gracefully from the private receiving room. Her maids followed her, each one modeling themselves after her. Raelin McKorey remained, silently sorting the costly silks the queen had been using to do her embroidery. She carefully tucked ends and slipped them back into the queen’s embroidery basket that was entrusted to her keeping.

“My queen has an interesting point.”

Alarik offered his king a grin. “I do believe no man alive would dream of stealing the Princess Elizabeth.”