In the Warrior’s Bed (12 page)

Guilt hit her hard. Slamming into her conscience with the possibility that he was right. It would be a grand day indeed if one wedding stopped the hostility. But there was more than one laird’s daughter who had kneeled in submission to her father’s enemy in the same hope only to have the feuding continue. Scotsmen didn’t give up their arguments easily.

“My head aches.” And that was the truth. There was too much to consider, too much to worry about befalling her. She felt so alone that she ached with it. Every shred of confidence she normally had missing now.

“I know the feeling.”

There was a small hint of the playful boy in his words now. A glimmer of hope flaring up in that empty place inside her. Forcing her weak need for comfort down, she pushed away from the wall before she did something foolish, such as surrendering to his will. That would be all well and good for the hour it took him to seduce her, but the sun would have no mercy on her in the morning. Nor would her clansmen.

“I think it best if I retire now.”

He nodded. “Since ye told the bishop ye needed tonight to set yer thinking right, aye, ’tis time to find yer bedchamber.”

She began walking and he followed her. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Each step felt as if it took a long time. The blood was rushing past her ears so loudly she had trouble hearing anything. She felt as if he could read her like the ink on a page of parchment.

But he was watching her and that stiffened her resolve to escape.

She climbed the stairs and heard the soft step behind her. Sweat actually began to bead on her forehead and she quickly wiped it away. The door of her chamber looked like a sanctuary, but Cullen’s arm crossed it before she could open it.

“Stay in yer chamber, lass, or I’ll do what needs doing to keep ye.”

She couldn’t keep her temper in check. She shot him a look full of loathing but bit back the scathing comment that formed on her tongue. His eyes narrowed but he pulled his hand back when she remained silent.

“All right, then. I see ye understand me.”

“Ye’re clear, there is no doubt of that.”

Once inside, she shoved the door shut. It made a loud thunk when it closed, satisfying her need to escape from the scrutiny that surrounded her.

But there was no escape from her desire to flee White Tower. Her cheeks burned as she admitted that she was now running from herself. Cullen unleashed something inside her that was uncontrollable. It was thick and needy, urging her to provoke the man just so that he’d touch her.

But that was a coward’s game. Oh, she knew it well. Had seen many a girl in Red Stone toy with and tease the men until they reached for what the lasses dangled in front of their noses. It rarely ended well. Even those who gained marriage from their lovers when their bellies swelled often lived with discontented husbands in unhappy homes.

She craved his touch.

It was a harsh truth, one that lent her the strength to remain awake until the castle settled in for the night. She watched the moon rise and climb higher into the sky.

Unlacing her bodice, she quickly shed the green dress. She hoped that her chemise might look enough like a shirt at night to serve her needs. Reaching beneath the pillow, she took the bundle of food and set it near the door. The bed gained a longing glance from her, but she lifted the McJames plaid and began pleating it along the mattress.

Tearing a wide strip from the bottom of her chemise, she folded it in half and worked it beneath the evenly pleated wool. She yanked another strip off her chemise and tied it firmly around her breasts to flatten them. It was uncomfortable and would likely begin to hurt before too long, but two plump mounds swaying on her chest would end her ruse quickly.

Bending over backward, she grasped the ends of the first strip and used it to tie the kilt to her waist. Men used sturdy belts, but the strip of fabric would serve for tonight.

Her hair was a glaring reminder that she was not a young lad. There was no hat in the room. She settled for stuffing the tail of her braid into the high collar of her chemise.

She peeked into the hallway and all was silent. Being careful to close the door without a sound, she started down the hallway toward the stairs. Every step sounded too loud. Cool night air blew up the stone steps from the yard, making her shiver.

How did men ride with bare legs?

A tin lantern was left on the ground floor of the keep. A fat candle flickered inside the round tin shell that had cuts scattered over it to allow light to spill out. An iron peg was driven into the stone of the wall for the lantern to hang from. The tin protected against fire in case the wind blew the lantern to the floor. There was always light in the keeps in case of emergency.

Outside it was dark. Clouds kept the moon from illuminating the yard. A perfect setting for escape. Men were stationed up on the top of the towers, and fires burned in iron-cage torch holders, but it was still dark on the ground.

Winter was truly here because the yard was blanketed in a white layer of fresh snow. Bronwyn stared at it in horror. Each step would be visible. More frightening was the fact that she had little protection from the chill. Many died on the roads when they were foolish enough to venture out.

Swallowing hard, she gathered her courage and took the first step into the snow. It was still soft and she sank to her ankle. The ice was bitterly cold, chilling her foot, but she took the next step. Her breath was a wispy cloud in front of her face, the thin fabric of her chemise poor comfort against winter’s touch. Shivers began running up and down her legs as she moved toward the stable. The leather of her boots was wet now, the heat from her body melting the snow. Her fingers were stiff when she reached for the latch holding the door shut.

A hard male hand captured her fingers, closing around it completely.

“I warned ye, Bronwyn.”

C
ullen pulled her back against his body. A hard shudder shook her as her skin eagerly soaked up the warmth from him. His breath teased her ear while he folded his arm around her body, keeping her hand prisoner within his grasp.

“But I’ll confess that I’m happy to see ye dinna mind me.”

“Release me.” She sounded too breathless, too relieved. Shame choked her.

“Never.”

His arms opened for a fraction of a moment. A hard push on her shoulder turned her around to face him. In the dark he was a huge shadow that loomed over her. Beneath the linen strip, her nipples drew into hard points. Her belly quivered, the muscles tightening with anticipation. His face was only angles in the darkness but she had never seen so handsome a man before. He was the embodiment of strength and she found it mesmerizing.

“I will never let ye go, Bronwyn, and I will be happy to prove it to ye.”

He grasped her waist and tossed her upward. Her weight didn’t seem to tax him. Those solid arms clasped her against his body, her waist above his shoulder. She tried to remain stiff, refusing to bend over his back, but he turned and the momentum sent her head downward. One arm clamped across the back of her thighs. She pushed on his wide back to rise up but he bounced her and her breath left her lungs in a whoosh when she landed on his broad shoulder.

“Enough, Bronwyn. Ye are caught. I dinna want to fight with ye.”

“I know what ye want from me!”

She snarled at him but the sound lost much of its venom against the expanse of his back. He reached the steps and bore her up them quickly. The lantern in the keep twinkled as she was carried back up to the second floor. Cullen pushed a door wide and shoved it shut behind him.

A squeal left her lips when Cullen flipped her off his shoulder. He caught her in his arms like a child, cradling her with an arm beneath her knees and one behind her back. He held her for a brief moment before tossing her onto the bed.

His bed.

He looked like a warrior from the tales repeated in the kitchens of raiders that ravished along with stealing.

But it excited her.

The dark expression on his face should have frightened her. Instead she remembered every time he’d used only enough of his strength to subdue her. Somehow, in spite of all of the reasons not to, she’d grown to trust him.

“Aye, ye do know what I want, but if I was intent on hurting ye, I’d have already taken it without a care for yer feelings.”

She scoffed at him. “Pulling me in front of a bishop is being concerned for my feelings? I think not. That is so that ye can petition the king for my dowry.”

The bed shook when he landed on top of her, his weight smothering her and pinning her flat on her back. He grasped her wrists, holding them harder than he ever had.

“I could have taken ye roughly this morning to ensure ye wed me tonight, too, Bronwyn, but I dinna.”

He pressed a hard knee between hers, spreading her thighs in one swift motion. “Even now, I could fuck ye without a thought for yer own pleasure, but I won’t.”

He pushed up off her, standing in front of the bed once again. Reaching out, he grabbed one ankle and attacked the lace holding her boot closed. A scowl marked his face, his grip tight on the back of her foot. With a tug he pulled the boot loose and sent it sailing across the chamber.

“I should have taken yer shoes.”

He had the matching one off her foot in a few more quick motions. A look of triumph lit his eyes. Even in the meager light the room offered from the glowing coals in the fireplace, she noticed that look of victory in his eyes. But she was too shocked to resist. Too stunned to see him undressing her instead of taking what he wanted.

She rose up onto her knees to face him. “It wouldn’t have stopped me.”

He drew a sharp breath. His eyes locking onto hers.

“Which is why I’ll nae relax my guard on ye.”

He reached for the end of his belt. He tugged the three-inch-wide tail of leather back so that the brass spikes holding it tight released. The evenly pleated wool of his kilt slid down his legs but he caught it up and tossed it over a chair before it hit the floor. His legs were bare, except for where his shirttail covered him to a few inches above his knees. She realized that he’d come after her without his boots or sword.

“Ye have more courage than plenty of men I’ve met. I may have stolen ye to right the wrong done to my family name, but I’m keeping ye because I have nae ever met a woman that is yer equal.”

The compliment stunned her. “But ye don’t know me. Not really. Any woman would resist being hauled away by strangers. That is no something extraordinary, Cullen.”

“It is more. I felt it on the afternoon when neither of us knew each other’s name. Just a man and a woman meeting, and the attraction that was there between us.”

He reached up and grabbed his shirt at the shoulders. With a swift tug he drew it over his head. Her breath froze as the crimson light coated his upper body. Every muscle was sculpted into hard ridges. But her eyes dropped to the hard length of his cock. It stood out from his body, swollen and demanding.

“Call it lust or attraction, Bronwyn, but I intend to call ye mine.”

He reached for her and she recoiled with a soft cry. He captured the sides of her makeshift kilt and lifted it into the air. Her entire lower body was held aloft, stealing her ability to escape. But the strip of fabric she’d used to tie the wool to her waist was not strong enough to keep the kilt around her hips. Cullen pulled it over her hips and down her legs.

“It is almost a shame to strip this from ye. I enjoy seeing my colors on ye.”

“Ye would.” Flipping over, she came back up onto her knees but farther back in the bed. There was a solid wall behind the headboard, but at least her chemise fell down to cover her thighs. “Raping me will not break my resolve to not wed ye.”

His expression tightened. “And what is the matter with that? I plan to make ye my wife. Wanting to see my colors on ye is a mark of respect.” He drew a stiff breath. “I may have stolen ye, but I’ve no touched ye once without controlling my strength.”

There was a reprimand in his voice that hit her hard.

“I know.” The admission tumbled past her lips because it was so very true. Her body suddenly quivered as she teetered on the edge of uncertainty. Part of her trusted that he wouldn’t take her roughly, but a lifetime raised as his enemy warned her not to expect kindness from him. The future stretched out so uncertainly, she shivered.

“Tell me ye’ll marry me in the morning, Bronwyn.”

She was tempted. Excitement pulsed through her to surrender her body while the night shrouded them. There was no clan color in the ruby glow of the coals, only two people. Standing there in front of her was the only man who had ever tempted her.

And she was sorely tempted. “I…I dinna…” She clasped a hand over her mouth, sealing her emotion fueled words inside.

The bed rocked as his knees landed on it. He captured her body, drawing her up against him in a swift, secure motion. One hand captured the back of her head, tilting her chin up so that her lips were ready for his kiss. His embrace felt so good, she trembled.

“Maybe ye would prefer I prove my worth as a husband to ye first.” There was a hint of mocking in his voice but it was also tender. “I do enjoy a challenge, lass.”

The hand across her back stroked her bare skin and she shuddered as sensation raced along her spine. He cupped one side of her bottom, pushing her toward his body until they were flush. The hard length of his cock pressed against her belly, sending a wave of heat through her that settled deep inside her.

“I promise to do my best to satisfy ye.” His hold was unbreakable. “I would never rape ye, sweet Bronwyn, but I will seduce ye.”

A whimper left her lips as he kissed her. But it wasn’t a hard, demanding one like the one he’d taken in the hallway. He kissed her gently, tasting her mouth, the tip of his tongue slipping along her lower lip before seeking entrance into her mouth. The hand cradling her head kept her still as he pressed her jaw open to deepen his kiss. It felt too good to resist. Every point of contact between them was pleasurable. It was as if her skin had never really felt before, never truly shown her how much delight she could feel.

She kissed him back, mimicking his motions while trying to learn how to return his kiss.

“Aye, lass, that’s the way. Kiss me back.”

There was a husky tone in his voice that made her bold. Lifting her hands, she slid them along his arms. His skin was so warm as to almost be hot. Soft as satin, it covered muscle that was iron solid. A soft groan filtered through their fused lips. Her eyes opened in surprise.

“Aye, I like it when ye touch me, Bronwyn.” His hand moved and slid down the column of her neck. Sensation shook her instantly, her head tilting to one side without any thought. It was pure instinct to offer herself to his touch.

“As ye enjoy me touching ye.”

There was a hint of determination in his voice now. One that unsettled her. He was so much stronger and her trust for him so fragile. He stroked down along her arms until he caught the hem of her chemise. He drew it over her head in a soft whisper that was mercifully quick.

“Now that is a sin, lass.”

His eyes were focused on the fabric binding her breasts.

“Truly a sin to disguise such a beautiful body.”

He reached for the binding, tearing the cloth with his greater strength. It rent in two, the sound echoing in the silence. Her breasts rejoiced as they were freed, the soft globes falling into their normal teardrop shapes.

He cupped each breast, his fingers gently massaging them. A soft moan passed her lips as her eyes fluttered closed. There was too much sensation to add sight to what her brain had to understand. She was being swept out to sea, where there was enough water to cover her completely.

“I’ve dreamed of tasting ye since I saw ye on that hillside.”

His voice was rough with emotion. Opening her eyes, Bronwyn shivered as he moved toward her. He laid her back among the bedding, his hands still cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed over each nipple and she arched toward his touch.

A strangled cry passed her lips when he kissed one nipple. His lips were scorching hot against her skin. But he did not stop there. Gripping the soft mound, he returned to suck the hard tip into his mouth. She twisted as heat pooled in her belly. It bled into her passage, making her keenly aware of it. She was hungry for more touches, ones that ventured lower.

Cullen didn’t disappoint her.

His hand smoothed down her body, moving across her ribs and onto her belly. The tip of his tongue flicked across her nipple before he trailed soft kisses down the side of her breast and up the side of the other one. His hand roamed lower, teasing the skin above her mons. Anticipation knotted her muscles so tight, she twisted and turned, unable to control her motions.

She wanted that touch. Actually needed it, for some reason. Her thighs were already slightly open, but Cullen moved one knee up along her leg to spread her for his conquest.

It was a conquest, a final action that would complete what he’d begun when he’d demanded her name in the meadow. He pulled his mouth from her nipple and loomed over her when his hand stroked the curls decorating her mons. Their eyes met in the dim light, and even with nothing but embers, she saw the hunger in his gaze.

He pressed a kiss against her mouth that was demanding. Parting her lips while his fingers delved between her thighs, she kissed him back, uncaring about anything but the urges burning through her. Half of his body lay across hers, pinning her gently but completely to the bed.

She cried out when his fingers found the little button at the top of her sex. So much feeling flooded her from the first graze across it, she tried to escape but he held her down, a soft chuckle shaking his broad chest.

“Do ye like that, Bronwyn? I promise ye, it gets better.”

The man kept his word.

Sweat covered her skin when he began rubbing her clitoris. Soft, teasing circles that sent intense pleasure up into her passage. Each minute that he continued built her hunger. For the first time in her life she realized that she was empty. Her body was made to cradle the hard cock pressing against her thigh.

And she craved it.

“No more teasing, Cullen.” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It was too sultry, too hungry.

“Aye, sweet Bronwyn, it is time to be done with playing.”

He rose above her, spreading her thighs with his wide hips. The hard tip of his cock nudged the opening of her body. He held still for a long moment, looking at her beneath him. A glitter of satisfaction crossed his eyes as he pushed forward into her spread body.

She was too tight. As much as she craved being filled, his flesh was hard and the walls of her passage ached. She shuddered, pain twisting up her spine to cut through the haze of desire clouding her thoughts.

“Trust me, lass. I dinna take pleasure in hurting ye. I swear I never will.”

He lowered his body over hers, catching enough of his weight on his forearms to keep from smothering her. But she was pinned completely beneath him, unable to escape the next thrust.

Her fingers turned to claws on his shoulders. Her fingernails cut into his skin, making him grind his teeth. Every bit of control he had was straining against the need to bury himself deep. Her passage was soft and wet with welcome but he pulled free before thrusting smoothly into her once more. He would control the urge to ravish her. For the first time in his life he understood the value of a pure woman. Her body had never welcomed another. It was so stunning, his head spun when he pressed his entire length into her. She quivered beneath him, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. Tears glistened on her cheeks but she didn’t sob, didn’t make a single sound to complain.

“Now we’ll get back to the feeling good part.”

She blinked, her eyelashes wet from her tears. Her hands released their grip as she realized what she was doing. He moved slowly, riding her with long strokes to rekindle the fire in her. A shaky breath rattled past her lips when she realized there was no more pain. Leaning down, he kissed her. Her mouth opened to admit his tongue. Her hands gently stroked his shoulders and it was by far the most arousing touch he’d ever received. Soft and hesitant but sincere.