Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (8 page)

‘Bridie, you’re to
away to your bed,’
Mrs
Moffat suddenly said and the
laird snapped back to attention, dragged the man out to the keep but his mind
was with Bridie, asleep now in bed. 

He wanted her in
his though, wanted to follow a heart that had once only beat for McClelland.

‘He hardly
stirred.’
Mrs
Moffat said the next morning, for it
was she who had taken the laird his breakfast. She who had ordered a bath for
him and who had been there while the healer had dealt with the laird’s wounds,
for she had seen the look that had passed between the two of them.

He was deeply
asleep now, after having barely sat up to take a drink,
Mrs
Moffat thought as she huffed down the steps after collecting his tray and when
lunchtime came around and Mary was no where to be found and she could not face
the castle steps again she called for Bridie.

 ‘Take the
laird this. Make sure he takes a drink of ale and you’re not to worry him with
your chatter - the laird needs his rest and then you’re to come and find me,’
Mrs
Moffat said. ‘I have a treat for you.’

Bridie took the
tray and climbed the steps and then walked into the darkened chamber. She
placed the ale by his bed and put another log on the fire, and the room lit
some more. She could see the laird, his body bruised, saw the huge gash to his
neck that had been closed now with a needle. ‘Savage bastards,’ Bridie hissed.

‘Bridie,’ he
warned, his eyes still closed.

‘Even half dead,
still ye scold me,’ Bridie said.

‘Always,’ the
Laird said and there was just a small smile on his mouth.

‘You’re to take
some ale.’

He didn’t want
any, all he wanted was to sleep, but she lifted his head and he took a drink,
and he felt the soft pillow of her breast he wanted more than sleep now. Wanted
to turn his head to her but common sense had returned a little. The laird knew
Bridie needed gentle and he had had no thought of being gentle last night. He
would deal with this properly – once rested he would speak with
Mrs
Moffat. So, instead of giving into want he
lay
back, wincing as he did so, for he had taken on many
injuries.

‘Savage bastards.’
The Laird said, repeating her words, and this time it was Bridie who gave a
small smile, but she could see now the damage. The Laird who only
ever rested
on return from battle was already back to sleep
and she looked to the outline beneath the fur, saw it gently moving and her
breath was tight in her throat.

He thought he was
dreaming at first as soft lips dusted his chest and he let himself stay in it
for a moment, felt the cool of her tongue, gentle on his skin and the scent of
her hair and he let her explore him a moment.

She lifted her
mouth and looked down to his body, it was like surveying a feast, only this
time she got to partake and her lips descended on his nipple.

‘Bridie…’

‘It’s just a kiss
laird.’  She breathed and
kiss
him she did and
then lifted her head, choosing where next she might go, but the laird bought
her lips to him. ‘I’ll show you a kiss, Bridie.’ He would not tell her his
plans yet, did not even want to mention
Dougal’s
name
here, he just wanted this time with Bridie.

He would not rush
her.

Even now, fierce
with want and a need to be sated, somehow her needs came first.

He kissed her, but
removed his hand from her head, so she could halt at any given moment and it
moved to her waist as he kissed her.
Unlike Bridie’s, his
eyes were open, gauging her face as his hand moved to her breast.
He
felt her swallow, watched her blink as his hand started to stroke her through
the fabric.

‘Do you want me to
stop?’

‘No Laird…’ she
murmured, reeling at the bliss, made more blissful for as his hand stroked her
breast, so too, between words did he kiss her.

 ‘How
do you feel Bridie…
’

His mouth licked
down her neck

‘Nervous…’ she
said, ‘but a nice nervous
..
’

‘Like?’

‘Like when you
can’t breathe…’ He licked the top curve of her breast and then nuzzled it out
of the fabric and his tongue was swirling her nipple now, ‘like when you’re
tickled.’ She closed her eyes as he took her breast into his mouth and suckled,
her hand stilling on the fur and her eyes closing as she felt him suckle again
and again, ‘Oh Laird…’

She did not know
how she was feeling. ‘It’s the best and the worst.’

‘The worst?’

His mouth moved
off, and she looked down to her wet breast to her large nipple so near his
mouth.

‘It’s cruel…’
Except her lips were smiling and he smiled too at her choice of
word.

‘Cruel?’

‘That you stop.’

He blew on her
nipple. ‘Is that cruel?’

‘Aye.’

And he blew again.

‘I want more.’

‘You want more of
the worst?’

‘I do Laird. It’s
the worst because it’s so cruel to tease.’

He pulled her down
close to him so she lay side on in the bed and his mouth found hers and they
kissed again, except it was more thorough than ever before. His strong arms
held her tight to him yet his hands roamed her body till she was dizzy with
heat and with want. She could feel his arousal, hard beneath the warm fur, at
her intimate place, a place she hated, a place there had only been pain except
now it ached in a different way. She pressed into him and that earned her a
growl from his throat and so she did it again, and so too did Alasdair, a
frenzy building in Bridie.

‘Laird…’ her neck
arched back and he kissed now her throat, his hand was on her bottom and
pressing her further in. ‘What’s happening to me?’

‘Hush
Bridie…

He pushed harder
against her, held her bottom still, when she wanted to move but, oh the heaven
of his mouth on her neck and now to her ear.

Her hands moved
down his back, such a strong muscled back and now she was making noises, little
whimpers that she could not stop and a hum was building in her throat.

‘I feel hot…’ she
could not describe it, ‘I feel… oh, Laird, I need to … ‘ she was incapable of a
sentence, a strange feeling of panic was building, but it was a panic she had
never known.

‘Hush a moment…’
Alasdair said. ‘There’s nothing to fear.’

‘Laird…’ Bridie
breathed. ‘Is this how it should be?’

‘It’s better than
this.

‘It couldn’t be…’
she was biting on her lip, trying to hold something back, something she did not
know existed. ‘I feel as if my heart has fallen.’ It must have for it was
beating somewhere that it never had before and she flailed in his arms a
moment. ‘Help me Laird.’

‘It’s all right
Bridie,’ The Laird could feel both her excitement and terror and it was both
for Bridie, for she could feel the dizzy hurtles of her body, but it did not
startle the Laird. He held her and she clung onto him as she twitched and he
smothered her sobs with his mouth and kissed her till she stilled and then
kissed her again while she calmed. Slowly he pulled his head back, looked into
her eyes that shone for him and as she smiled a decadent smile, he had, the
Laird
realised
, awoken insatiable.

‘Go down now,’ he
told her a short while later.  ‘Or she’ll wonder why you’re taking so long
and you’ll not be allowed back up here.’

‘I want back,
Laird.’ Bridie breathed and the Laird looked into her glittering eyes and he
told her his truth.

‘You will be.’

 ‘Did he take
his ale?’
Mrs
Moffat asked.

‘Aye.’ Bridie
said, picking up Gracie and smothering her blushes in her daughter’s curls.

‘And did you add
another log to the fire?’

‘I did.’

‘What took you so
long?’
Mrs
Moffat asked, but Bridie didn’t answer,
instead she told Gracie she would get her some lunch. ‘Bridie?’

‘What?’

‘
Dinnae
cheek me lassie,’
Mrs
Moffat
said.  ‘I’ve a job for you. Take some oatcakes to
Dougal
.’
She wrapped the warm oatcakes up as she spoke. ‘You can tell him how you’re
looking forward to the banns being read at the weekend.

‘I don’t want to.’
Bridie shook her head, felt the happiness fizzing out of her,
for she did not want to spend even a moment alone with
Dougal
Blaine until she had to, but
Mrs
Moffat would not be swayed
.

‘It will be nice
to have some time, maybe have a wee talk, get to know each other a little
before your wedding.’

‘I’ve got Gracie’s
lunch to sort.’

‘I’ll feed
Gracie.’
Mrs
Moffat said handing her the package.

Bridie had no
choice.

She walked along
the loch, holding the cloth that contained the warm cakes, thinking about the
Laird and hoping that
Dougal
wasn’t home. Maybe she
could just leave the oatcakes by the door and knock and run off.

Except
Dougal
was there at the front of his hut, letting blood
from a highland cow and he stood as she approached

‘Bridie!’

She had never
really spoken much to
Dougal
and certainly Bridie had
never been alone with him.

‘Come in.’

She walked into
the small stone cottage, could not imagine herself and Gracie here. It was
smoky from the peat fire and smelt dank, but that wasn’t the problem -
Dougal
was so large, so imposing and she was shaking as he
added the blood to the pot on the fire.

Bridie’s eyes
wandered the small cottage and came to rest on a half built box bed – a
bed that was used for three things. She would be taken there on her wedding
night and then again for birthing and then, once again, when she was dead.

Bridie hoped the
latter came first.

And
Dougal
saw her eyes dart there.

‘I brought you
some oatcakes.’ Bridie offered him the cloth package. ‘
Mrs
Moffat says you should eat them while they’re still warm.

‘I’m no hungry.’
Dougal
said. ‘Well, not for oatcakes.’ His face was near
hers,
she could smell his rancid breath, when the Laird
smelt so lovely

She shouldn’t be
so choosy.

She was
damaged
goods, Bridie reminded herself, and
Dougal
was patient and kind, if a bit slow.

But as his hand
moved to her cheek, she turned her head away; even with the best imagination
she could not pretend it was the Laird.

But it did not
deter
Dougal
, his hand moved then to her breast, but
it didn’t feel like the Lairds’ hand had.

‘Maybe you could
take this
off,
his fingers
prised
open her kirtle.

‘
Dougal
Blaine!’ Bridie scolded, burning red, not with
anger, but with guilt, because she didn’t mind when the Laird touched her.
‘We’re not even married. Why would you think I’d want to take my clothes of for
you?

But his scent was
suddenly familiar, and she thought she might be sick as she remembered that
meaty hand on her body and the weight, the horrible weight of
Dougal
as others urged him. Surely she was imagining
things, for everyone had told her
Dougal
was kind,
except she was remembering otherwise now. As her horrified eyes lifted to his,
Dougal
merely smiled and she felt the rip of her kirtle and
the filthy sound of his voice.

‘You didn’t mind
last time.

The Laird woke and
all the pain left him as he remembered Bridie’s kiss and the pleasure of
watching her come in his arms.

He wanted her
happy. Did not want the burden she was carrying on her shoulders there for even
a minute more. He would speak now with
Mrs
Moffat and
tell her that Bridie would not be marrying
Dougal
.

He rose from his
bed and pulled on his plaid but for once he did not bother with his dirk, just
headed straight down to the kitchen.

‘Laird!’
Mrs
Moffat blushed when she saw that the Laird was down in
the kitchen. ‘You should be resting, what are you doing down here?’

‘I need to speak
with you about Bridie.’

‘Bridie?’

 ‘Aye.’
Alasdair said. ‘Where is she?’ He checked for he did not want her walking in on
this conversation.