In the Warrior’s Bed (19 page)

“So if I flirt with ye, sweet Bronwyn, will ye repay me by blushing prettily?”

She yanked on her hand, but all it earned her was a warm chuckle from him. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Her lower lip tingled, craving a kiss.

“Stop teasing me.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze returning to hers. Hunger flickered in his blue eyes now, and her body recognized it instantly. Heat flowed through her, touching off a blaze of need.

“I assure ye, Bronwyn, I’m no teasing.” His fingers rubbed over her inner wrist again and then up into the center of her palm. Never once had she realized that her hand might be so sensitive. A shiver shot down her spine and her breath froze in her lungs.

“Ye dinna answer my question.” He pulled her closer. “If I pay ye court, will ye soften and yield to my seduction?”

“Ye have already had me.” Heat blistered her cheeks when she realized what she’d said while sitting at a high table. A soft moan crossed her lips.

Cullen chuckled at her again. His eyes were lit with amusement, but not the sort you found in a boy. There was nothing innocent about the way he looked at her, his fingers playing across her skin with a finesse that shook her.

“We have not yet even begun to explore the arts of having each other.” There was a promise lurking in his gaze now. She stared at it, fascinated by the intensity. Anticipation drew her muscles tight, her lower lip going dry. She licked it without thinking and froze when his gaze dropped to the tip of her tongue as it stroked her lip. His face flushed, betraying his own level of arousal. An unexpected wave of confidence washed through her as she recognized that she could affect him.

A maid sat a large platter on the table in front of them. Cullen jerked his fingers, tightening around her hand.

“Ye have managed to distract me.” He carried her hand to his lips and pressed a slow kiss against her fingers before freeing her. “I believe this shall be the longest meal of my life.”

Her heart accelerated. It was a ridiculous response but she felt it nonetheless. Her belly growled long and deep, breaking through her fascination with the man beside her. Cullen frowned. He reached for a knife lying on the platter. Stabbing it into a section of roasted pork, he transferred it to her plate.

“Eat, Bronwyn, and dinna let yer pride wage a battle that cannot be won.”

“I wonder how ye would react if I told ye to ignore yer pride.” She kept her voice so low he had to lean closer to hear her. Something flickered in his gaze that surprised her. It almost looked like admiration instead of the gloating victory she’d expected.

“I would no fare as well as ye have, lass.” Another serving of meat landed on his plate. “’Tis a fact that ye weather this storm between our families far more gracefully than I could ever hope to.”

It was an admission. Maybe she was foolish to grasp at it but he looked sincere. It was balm for her wounds, relieving the sting for a moment. Turning her attention to the meal, she took solace in those words at least long enough to satisfy her hunger.

But she felt him watching her. Heat returned to her cheeks but she resisted the urge to look at him. Too many pairs of eyes watched them from the lower tables, but a good deal of the animosity seemed to be missing among the McJames retainers. She would not call their faces friendly, but at least they were not condemning.

It was something, a place from which she might look up and hope for a brighter future.

Maybe.

S
he was nervous.

Bronwyn hugged herself and marveled at the quiver making her insides jelly. Sybil stood near the door watching two maids turn the bedding down. The girl knew her job well. She took no task lightly when it came to ensuring that everything was correctly attended to for her mistress.

Watching the sheets being revealed sent gooseflesh down her arms. It was ridiculous to be so aware of the coming night. She wasn’t a maiden any longer to wonder and fret about the unknown of the marriage bed.

That isn’t what you are contemplating…

With a small sigh she admitted that the voice in her head was correct. She was thinking about what Cullen had said. Actually excited by the idea of doing more than being taken as she already had.

It must be wicked to feel as she did.

The maids finished and curtsied to her before leaving the room. Sybil remained until they had gone.

“Is there anything else, Mistress?”

“Call me Bronwyn.” She said it hopefully but Sybil frowned and remained silent.

“Good night, Sybil. Yer mistress does not require ye any longer.” Cullen appeared in the doorway, his hair still damp. His shirt was sticking to his upper torso in dark patches where his skin had not been dry.

“Good night.” Sybil lowered herself before leaving. Cullen closed the door behind her.

“Why do ye refuse the title of mistress? Do ye really prefer the staff no respect ye?”

“I’ve never been called mistress before…” Her words trailed off because Cullen’s face tightened dangerously. He shut the door, still frowning.

“Are ye refusing Sybil because she’s a McJames?” He asked the question quietly but she heard the anger in it.

“No. I would no be so hard hearted.”

He drew a deep breath but didn’t relax his guard. “I suppose I shall have to take yer word on that or I can no expect ye to trust me.”

The suspicion in his voice agitated her. She lifted her chin. “I suppose ye shall.”

It was half challenge and half admission. But the response she witnessed in his eyes made her aware of how her skin felt fresh from her bath. Her hair was lying down her back to dry in the heat from the fire coals, the thin fabric of her chemise wet from it. Her surcoat was already hung up, leaving her once more nearly bare for her captor.

Tonight it excited her.

Anticipation sent heat coursing through her. Need licked along her skin, awakening it. She felt the heat from the fire behind her but also the soft throb of passion in her passage. A yearning began building there, a need to be filled.

Cullen watched her, his gaze lingering on her body in a slow motion that traveled from her head to her toes. His expression changed, the suspicion melting away to be replaced by hunger.

“Sterling is a fine home, Bronwyn. Give its people a bit of time to win ye over.” He reached for the end of his wide leather belt and pulled it. His kilt dropped and he laid it aside with nothing but his shirt covering his skin.

“Ye mean give ye time.” She felt vulnerable for some reason. As if she had no defense against him when it came to her feelings. The side of him that she encountered behind the closed door of their chamber seemed to be able to touch her heart. It was the single place that she called her own.

He offered her a grin. “Aye. What’s wrong with hoping ye’ll grow to like me?”

“We’re already married.”

“Och now, and ye think that should satisfy me?” He closed the distance between them with a playful grin on his lips. Reaching out he stroked her cheek with the back of one hand. She shuddered as sensation ripped through her.

“The first time I saw ye, I wanted to win ye over, lass. That has no changed.” His lips came closer as his hand made a second pass over her cheek. “We’re still the same two people who met on an autumn afternoon and drew sparks from each other. Admit that ye wanted me to kiss ye there in the meadow.”

Her lips curved up in a guilty smile. “Maybe. But I’d never been kissed afore so maybe not.”

His eyebrows lowered. “Never? I would have thought at least one man wearing yer father’s colors would have braved his laird’s displeasure to get a taste of ye.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “I was willing to challenge my king for ye.”

She gasped, the sound barely making it past her lips before he claimed them. A strong arm slid down her back and around her waist to pull her tightly against his body. She was keenly aware of how hard he was compared to her softness. Her breasts pressed against his solid chest and her belly cushioned the hard shape of his erect cock. Heat flowed through her veins as he pushed her lips apart so that his tongue could invade her mouth. It was the sweetest breaching, one that she encouraged. She teased his tongue with hers, tracing it and stroking along its length. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, frustrated by the fabric of his shirt.

“I couldna agree more.” He grasped the fabric covering her back and drew it up and over her head. Tossing it aside, he cupped her hips, holding her steady as he looked at her bare body.

“I think I’ll order a fire built every night just so that I can keep ye nude.” He slid his hand up her body to cup each breast. The soft globes fit neatly into his hands. He controlled his grip and brushed the nipples with his thumbs.

She wanted to touch him…

Be it surrender or something wicked born out of lust, she did not care. The rules and expectations that she had been raised with didn’t seem to apply to this moment. She tugged on his shirt, seeking the warm skin beneath it. But he was too tall for her to remove the shirt like he had pulled her chemise from her.

She slid her hands down to where it ended over his thighs, a soft sound of triumph crossing her lips when she found his bare skin. She bent her knees slightly to press her hands against his legs. The muscles were corded and defined.

“Touch me, lass.”

There was a note of enjoyment in his voice that surprised her. It lacked the mocking sound she might have expected. Instead she felt her confidence rise because she was affecting him once more. Her own weakness for him was suddenly acceptable as long as he was as susceptible to her touch.

“Touch me…” His voice grew rough.

Her hands were already sliding up in answer to that plea. Smoothing over his warm skin until she touched the soft sac that hung beneath his cock. He drew a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing.

“More.”

Her confidence made her bold. Reaching up farther, she closed her hand around his length. His staff was long and thick in her hand. The flesh stiff and hard. Both her hands gripped it at the same time. He shuddered, a soft growl echoing in the room.

With a quick motion he ripped his shirt up and over his head. The ruby coals cast him in crimson.

“Now stroke it.”

His words were a command, but she didn’t mind obeying. The rough breath he sucked in stole the authority from his stern command. Moving her hands, she worked them up and down his cock. A muscle began to twitch on the side of his jaw as his neck corded. Seeing him enjoy her touch sent a bolt of need through her hot enough to burn. Her passage was demanding the hard flesh she held.

Cullen leaned his head back, his chest rising in hard, fast breaths. She worked her hands faster and his hips began moving toward her softly. He looked back at her, his teeth clenched.

“Now for a bit of reciprocation, lass.”

His hands grasped her hips in a firm grip. He lifted her right off her feet and up onto the table that was alongside the wall. The wood was warm from the fire but it was startling against her bare bottom. Her thighs spread around his hips as he moved closer to her. He released her hips and pushed her thighs farther apart.

“Put yer hands behind ye.”

“Why?”

“Because it will thrust yer beautiful breasts upward.”

She shivered as the idea filled her mind. “That must be wrong…wicked.”

“We’re married. I see nothing wrong with enjoying every part of the body God created for us.”

“That is clear.” Her voice was husky, surprising her with how wanton she sounded.

He chuckled, his hands sliding along her thighs. It was wicked but more exciting than she might ignore. Where their skin met, pleasure radiated. Her hands were already moving to the position he’d demanded. When she pressed them onto the smooth surface of the table behind her, it arched her back, thrusting her breasts up. He slid his hands all the way to her breasts to cup each one. He leaned down and sucked one hard nipple deeply into his mouth. She gasped because it was so hot. His mouth against her nipple felt like a brand. He flicked the tip of his tongue over it before lifting his head.

“Now I’ll show ye the advantages of obeying yer husband.”

He sank down between her spread thighs until his head was level with her open sex. She gasped, sitting up in shock, but he pressed her thighs wide with a hand on each one.

“Cullen…
”

He looked up at her face. “I enjoy hearing ye use my name.”

His voice was hard. His gaze returned to her folds and he leaned forward until she felt his warm breath against her spread flesh.

“Cullen, ye canna mean to…”

“I assure ye I do.”

Her next words were lost as he pressed a soft kiss against her clitoris. She jerked because it was too intense. Pleasure shot into her passage so fast it was impossible to remain still. His hand moved around her thighs to grasp her hips in a flash. His grip was firm, keeping her in place, the tip of his tongue slipping between the folds of her sex and traveling up toward her clitoris. She wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or agony that tore through her when he tongued her. All Bronwyn was certain of was that she didn’t care if she died.

If this was wicked, then let her be damned because she could not refuse it. Pleasure gripped her tighter than it ever had. Cullen toyed with the sensitive little nub, flicking his tongue over it again and again until she sobbed. Her fingers curled on the tabletop, trying to grip it. Gooseflesh spread across her belly as every muscle tightened. Her breath came in hard pants and she began lifting her hips toward him, offering her clitoris to his mouth. She craved more pressure, more friction.

But he denied her. Cullen raised his head, keeping her hips prisoner in his grasp. Need clawed through her so fiercely it hurt. She cried out, every bit of pride drowned in her body’s need for release.

“Look at me.”

Lifting her eyelids felt impossible. She wanted to fall back into the swirling pool of desire and passion. A soft lapping across her folds forced her eyes to open.

“Call me husband.”

His eyes glittered with determination. One hand slipped off her hip and down across her belly. Her clitoris began throbbing as his fingers neared it, demanding the friction that would send release ripping through her. But he rubbed her so softly, a single fingertip lightly brushing the sensitive bud, that all she felt was more need.

He would not relent. She saw it in his eyes.

“Husband.”

“Ah, but do ye believe that, sweet Bronwyn?”

He stood up, magnificent in the glow of the coals, every inch of his body hard and sculpted. She craved that strength. Even his pride was attractive because it was something that made him the man he was.

Unrelenting and unbending.

“I wonder…” He sat in one of the X chairs, his gaze fashioned on her.

“Come here, wife. Yer husband demands ye.”

Sitting up, she glared at him because her body was an inferno. One he’d ignited knowingly. But his cock stood straight up, telling her that he shared the same need.

“Is that so? Husband?”

“It is.”

Slipping off the table, she stood still for a long moment. His gaze traveled over her nude body, the tic returning to the side of his jaw. The response made her bold, her attention dropping to his erection, her mind pondering whether or not he would be as susceptible to her tongue.

Wicked…but impossible to ignore.

Moving forward, she stopped in front of him. Her fingers trailing lightly over his length. A harsh breath and she leaned forward to tease him with her breasts.

“Shall ye put yer hands behind ye and let me have my way with ye, husband?”

A harsh grunt accompanied his reply.

“As ye wish…wife.”

There was a challenge in his voice. One she cheerfully accepted. Kneeling in front of him, she closed her fingers around his cock. Hot and hard, the skin was silky smooth, the scent of his male skin slightly intoxicating. Leaning forward she glided her tongue over the ridge that crowned his cock.

“Sweet Christ.”

He reached for her head and grasped her hair. Looking up, she found his eyes wide and focused on her. Surprise flickered in his eyes but it was the hunger drawing his face tight that spurred her on. Looking down, she began licking the length from the base to the crown. His breathing turned rough when she tasted the slit on top of the head.

“Take me inside yer mouth…” His voice was a husky whisper, as if he did not dare say it any louder for fear of divine retribution. But he wanted it so much, he couldn’t resist asking for it.

That was as close to begging as a warrior such as he might get.

Opening her jaw, she sucked the head inside her mouth. The hand in her hair tightened, pulling the strands. The little nips of pain encouraged her. Lifting her head, she moved close between his thighs so that she might take more of his length on her next dive. Her own hunger was still burning. Her passage hot and needy for the hard flesh in her grasp. His hips lifted slightly, and when she took him deep, harsh growls drifted over her bent head.

“Enough.”

Harsh and ragged, his voice told her that he was as needy as she. Raising her head, she teased the slick length of his cock with her fingers while their eyes met. His were narrowed to slits, his lips a hard line.

“Enough toying, Bronwyn.”

“Aye. Enough.” She spoke softly, agreeing. For that moment they both craved each other. There was no captor, no captive. Only a man and woman.

“Stand.” He was commanding her but at the same time hypnotized by her when she complied. His eyes roamed over her body, making her feel pretty. It wasn’t something conveyed in polished words, it was in his expression and the way his jaw was clenched.