Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (30 page)

Her husband’s breath came out in a long
whoosh
. “Blood of Christ,” he murmured. It did not—could not—escape her notice that his swollen manhood tented the front of his tunic.

Deeply gratified by his fervent reaction, Maryn continued her game, lifting her hands to her hair and slowly pulling out the ribbons holding it in place. Then, stretching her arms high over her head, she provocatively pushed her breasts forward. “Ooohhh, that feels goooood! I’m so
tired
.” The expression on Daniel’s face in that moment amused and incited her. For his eyes bugged out so far, his face so red, that he looked as if he’d swallowed a goose—feathers and all.

“Maryn,” her husband said in a creaky voice before clearing his throat. “Maryn—do you tease, or do you promise?”

She did not answer. Instead, she gave him a wicked smiled, placed her hands on her bosom and slowly stroked. With a pout, she mewled, “Daniel, I think there’s something wrong with my breasts. For they ache quite badly, and the only thing that seems to relieve them is a thorough kneading. But my hands are not big enough—and my arms are much too
weary
.

In no more than an instant, he stood before her, his breathing ragged and her heart did an excited flip. When he took over the task with eager proficiency, her body became liquid, hummed.

“My nipples feel dry and tight, will you lick them for me? I cannot reach them.” How she’d managed to speak through the daze of desire, she did not know.

“Enough,” he said in a rough tone, and then he lifted her into his arms, strode to the bed, and dropped her to the mattress.

She squealed, but with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, she raised up on her elbows and anxiously awaited his next move.

He shoved his braies off his hips and with shaking hands, tossed up the skirt of her chemise and gripped the undersides of her knees, spreading her thighs wide. “Knead this,” he murmured, pushing himself inside her.

She was more than ready for him. With an exultant moan, she collapsed back on the mattress and closed her eyes, flinging her arms over her head.

Her husband bent forward then and cupped her breasts in his hands, enthusiastically obliging her earlier request by hungrily gorging on the aching peaks as he continued to rock into her.

She arched, went rigid with the intensity of her climax, crying out, “Daniel!”

He threw his head back. “Aaahhh!!” Clearly desperate for his own release now, he reared back and flung her thighs over his forearms. His eyes glazed with desire, they scorched her skin as he held her hips high and plunged ever deeper into her. It seemed to her that his body took over then, as he mindlessly pumped into her receptive sheath, bringing her to the edge once more, and in a matter of moments, they catapulted together into orgasmic bliss.

*

“So where’re my weapons? Maryn was lying on top of him, her chin on her crossed hands, and her finger caressing his afternoon stubble.

“I told you, the weapons will be returned to you for a price.”

Her lower lip protruded in a pout. “Did I not just pay your price? What more could you possibly want from me? A traveling minstrel show? Or, is it that I left you unsatisfied?”

Lifting his head a fraction, Daniel opened one eye and looked at her. She had to know the answer to that—he’d nearly broken the bed frame in his exuberance—but, clearly she’d resorted to sarcasm in order to show her irritation. In fact, he could almost see the steam coming from her ears. He hoped that she never grasped how often he teased her—for, most of the enjoyment was in his ability to make her blood boil believing he was in earnest. But, his mind had yet to begin functioning at full tilt, making it impossible for him to quickly think of another, more innocuous, “price” for her weapons. Resting his head back on the pillow, he shut his eye and let out a false sigh of resignation. “Well, I suppose it will simply have to suffice. Your weapons will be returned to you after our evening meal.”

“
Have to suffice!
” she grumbled under her breath. “He likely will not be satisfied ‘til I’ve learned a few tumbler tricks in the bargain.”

Daniel grinned. The saucy image of her doing a somersault in the nude running through his mind. He knew she was on the verge of drawing blood, but could not hold his tongue. “Aye, that ought to do it.”

*

Daniel rubbed the sore spot on his chest above his left nipple. She’d
bitten
him! First she’d screamed loud enough to wake the dead and then she’d opened her beautiful lips and chomped…hard! He glared at her from the corner of his eye, watching her busily consuming a large portion of their meal from their trencher.

She squirmed in her seat and he grinned.

Ah, yes. He’d meted out the appropriate revenge for such an abuse—he’d used his skill to overcome her fury and break her willful behavior. He’d licked her relentlessly, sending her into one climax after another and each time she’d found release he’d slapped her luscious little bottom.

*

Maryn saw Daniel’s amusement at her discomfort and decided to ignore him. Although the hard seat of the stool chafed her tender buttocks, the pleasure she’d received had been well worth it. Her canal was still engorged from the number of times she’d climaxed, and the bud of her sex throbbed with sensitivity.

How had he known she would peak more powerfully if he gave her those swift, lightly stinging blows to her behind at its crest? She was out of her depth and he knew it, taking full advantage. She hoped one day she would control the upper hand, but knew it would probably never be. She took a deep breath and blew it out on a sigh of resignation. She supposed she must be content that he chose such pleasurable ways to teach her a lesson. Then realization dawned and she brightened, biting her lip on her smile before it turned into a wide grin of self-satisfaction. He’d lost the upper hand as well, in the end. She’d been soaked and limp, pleading for him to allow her to rest, when he’d surged into her and loudly flooded her womb with hot, liquid seed.

They’d arrived late for supper.

Ah, but enough of that; she’d ignored her guests too long. Gingerly turning on her stool, she said to Jesslyn, “Where is Alleck? I just noticed he is not with us this eve.”

“He’s at Niall’s house. The two lads are working on a secret project of some kind.” On a sigh, she said, “He’s never at home nowadays.”

“Is he still regaling you with stories of the magic coin?”

“Nay, he put that in his box with his other treasures a few days past. Tho’ he’s still convinced that a ‘magic giant’ dwells in the forest and was the one to give him the coin.”

Hearing the worry in Jesslyn’s voice, Maryn rushed to reassure her. “You must not be troubled by Alleck’s belief, he’ll grow out of it. Why, when I was no more than Alleck’s age, I was sure a brownie lived in our kitchen cellar. I thought he was eating the leftover bannock cakes.”

Her husband gave a rude snort of amusement.

Maryn pinched his thigh in retaliation.

He grabbed her hand and moved it further up.

She jerked it away and turned her back to him.

He roared with laughter.

Her cheeks flamed. Primly straightening her spine, she continued, “Eventually I discovered my father pilfered them during the night. My point is that my wee bairn’s mind saw magic in an otherwise rather uninteresting event.”

Clearly—and thankfully—having not noticed the hand battle under the table, Jesslyn gave Maryn a curious look, but made no comment. On another sigh, she replied, “I’m sure you are right.”

“It
is
curious that we have not found any of the other coins from Jamison Maclean’s store, however,” Maryn said.

“‘Tis been years, mayhap whatever coins he used in trade have now been traded further afield,” Jesslyn replied.

Maryn thought that was as good an explanation as any. She glanced at her husband and noticed the intent look on his face. She shrugged, deciding to allow him to keep his own council for the time being.

Turning her mind to the matter of a mate for Jesslyn, she concentrated on her other table guest. He’d been busily consuming his food, seemingly uninterested in the woman next to him. They’d invited Derek to dine with them that eve, but he’d barely said two words to Jesslyn throughout the meal. He’d spent the majority of the time consulting with Daniel. Maryn was not sure if his rudeness was due to a lack of interest or shyness.

She decided to find out. “Derek, did you know that Jesslyn made this delicious cheese you’ve been enjoying?”

His mouth full of the substance, Derek finished chewing and replied, “Nay—‘tis good, thanks,” and turned back to Daniel. “Thought you any further of building a tower for a mangonel?”

The two warriors then began a detailed and lively discussion of the pros and cons of this idea.

After a moment, Maryn tried again. “Jesslyn’s also brought us these lovely raspberries, will you try one?” She held the berry in her outstretched palm.

“But, know you well that a mangonel might be the difference between”—Derek took the berry from her without a glance in her direction—“us winning or losing the day.” He popped it in his mouth and chewed, his eyes intently fixed on Daniel.

Drumming her fingers now, Maryn saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and looked toward it.

Jesslyn did a quick shake of her head.

Maryn shrugged, giving her friend a questioning look.

Jesslyn leaned across the table and whispered, “‘Tis no use, he’s totally oblivious to me—and anyone or anything else, it seems, that has naught to do with the security of this keep. I think we can safely mark him from our list.”

“Aye.” Disappointed, Maryn and Jesslyn finished their meal in silence. The two men were still in hot debate when the women left the table an hour later.

*

The next morn, Maryn met Lady Maclean on the stairs as she came down for the morning meal. “Good morn—we missed you last eve. Were you unwell?” Maryn said, worried.

“My goodness no, lass. I find that the older I get, the less I like the noise of the great hall while I eat. I much prefer a quiet meal in my chamber, and my appetite is not what it was when I was younger. I hope my lack of hospitality does no injury to your feelings?”

“Nay”—a loud boom came from the floor below, startling both of them—“what was that?” Turning back to Lady Maclean, Maryn said in a rush, “You must return to your bedchamber, there may be a threat to the holding.”

Lady Maclean nodded. “Be careful, lass.”

“Aye, fear not.”

Lady Maclean turned and began ascending the few steps to the landing.

Assured of the older lady’s safety, Maryn flew down the stairs and came to a sudden stop, her heart leaping into her throat. There, leaning against the portal of the keep’s flung-wide door, was Callum MacGregor.
Does he hate me?
She had, after all, been the cause of his downfall.

*

Callum’s tortured heart raced at the sight of his most secretly cherished desire. Quickly recovering, he put on his charmer’s facade, giving her a crooked smile. “Ah, Lady MacLaurin—or is it Maclean? Will you not welcome me in after such a long absence?”

Thankfully, his easy manner calmed the trepidation he’d seen in her eye a moment ago and she smiled at him. “‘Tis MacLaurin,” she replied pleasantly. “Welcome home, Callum. But where is your mother?” She craned her neck to look behind him. “I thought she was to return with you.” Before he could answer, she turned and took a step toward the great hall. “Does she break her fast?”

Callum waylaid her by interjecting, “Nay, Mother remains at the MacGregor holding. It seems she’s betrothed herself to another of that clan and they’re to be wed in a fortnight. I traveled here to tell Grandmother of her daughter’s coming union.”

Callum was jolted by the feel of a firm hand on his shoulder that shuffled him aside. Whipping his head around, he saw a rusty-haired behemoth striding with great purpose around him and into the entryway.

“Do come in, cousin,” the man said as he took his place at Maryn’s side.

Turning his gaze on the behemoth’s narrowed, suspicious stare—clearly, he’d seen Callum’s covetous gaze on Maryn—Callum straightened and moved forward into the entry of the keep and with an affable grin, he said, “I’m happy to meet you at last. My grandmother—er,
our
grandmother—told me of you when I was but a bairn.”

*

Studying the two relations, now standing face-to-face, Maryn was immediately struck by the differences in them. While both had auburn hair and green eyes, Daniel had a much more muscular build; Callum’s being strong, but wiry. The younger man, though tall, was an inch or two shorter than her husband. And Daniel’s rugged male beauty starkly contrasted the seemingly flawless, almost boyish, features of Callum’s countenance. Tho’ she had always understood the other lasses’ attraction to the young Maclean grandson, she found her husband’s looks much more appealing.

“The two of you should go into the great hall and get acquainted.” she said to Daniel. Then, turning to Callum, she said, “I shall bring Grandmother Maclean down; she will be so pleased that you’ve returned home.”

Callum bussed her on the cheek. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

Flustered, Maryn nodded and then turned to hurry up the stairs.