Highlander's Prize (31 page)

“But that does nae mean I am no’ planning on ravishing ye.”

He bent over and tossed her over his shoulder before she recovered from the kiss. A solid smack landed on her bottom before he spun her around in a circle and tossed her onto the bed. She rolled over in a tangle of skirts and lifted one hand to point at him.

“Brute.”

***

The door of the chamber opened at dawn.

“Get yer mistress out of bed,” Edme announced with a glee Clarrisa had never heard from the woman before.

“Get ye gone,” Broen growled, but the women ripped the covers off them and pulled Clarrisa from where she’d been lying beside him.

“It’s May Day, and if ye want a lusty tumble, my son, ye’ll have to chase her for it!”

The women laughed while tossing her clothing over her head and securing it quickly. Someone brushed her short hair and placed a garland of new spring greens on her.

“Let’s go, my lambs! The morning dew will wait for no one!”

Edme hurried them down the hallway and stairs. Their bare feet made slapping sounds on the stone, but they giggled in spite of the chill, because it was tradition to go without footwear on May morn. The bell was ringing in the church, and girls were streaming out of their homes. Most had their hair unbound and flowing behind them; everyone had a garland of greens on their heads. The men lined up along the roads and cheered them on.

But it was the women who went into the woods, seeking the morning dew among the new leaves. They bathed their faces and laughed. Superstition claimed the dew would keep them youthful forever. Once the sun rose, they hurried back to the village, drawn by the sound of music. The men were playing near the maypole, and the entire village was turned out to enjoy the festive moment.

“Is nae it grand?” Daphne muttered when she came close to Clarrisa. “I adore May Day!”

She danced away to the beat of the drums, becoming lost in the crowd of merrymakers. But Clarrisa felt her cheeks heat when Broen came into view. He looked just as strong and untamed as he had the first time she’d seen him, his shirt rolled up to display his forearms and the corded muscles she’d stroked. His blue eyes were fixed on her, and the morning light flickered off the sapphire set into the pommel of his sword. He was a dangerous man and expected to survive by his strength alone.

But he was also a tender lover.

The crowd dancing around the maypole was beginning to thin. Couples slipped away to celebrate the more wicked traditions of the festival. The May Queen was still dancing, but she was surrounded by young men who were all doing their best to entice her into leaving with them. The church preached against May Day, but the tradition went back further than anyone recalled. On one hand, no one wanted to take the chance that bad luck might befall them if they didn’t dance around the maypole; on the other hand, it was a fine day of festival, and no one wanted to give it up, even if it was nothing but hollow superstition.

If the May Queen conceived, it would be considered a sign of a plentiful harvest. Clarrisa envied the girl for a moment. Her life was not complicated by the need to maintain her virginity in order to catch a good husband. Whoever she allowed to lead her into the woods would gladly wed her if she ripened with a babe. Every boy competing for her attention knew the village would expect a wedding, and still they crowded around the May Queen.

But Broen MacNicols was looking at Clarrisa.

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes, and now that he was closer, she could see that he was in the mood to take up Edme’s challenge.

She gasped, her belly tightening with anticipation. A hot, wicked sense of excitement rippled through her, settling in her passage. The heat traveled up into her cheeks, setting off a blush that gained a grin from Broen.

A smug, arrogant one.

She propped her hands on her hips and tried to decide how to best the man. He was too sure of her favor; it was May Day, after all. So she joined the dancers, merging into the crowd. They stepped together in time to the music and swept along anyone not moving fast enough. She lost sight of Broen as she circled the maypole. The beat of the drums seemed to increase the pulse of need throbbing in her clitoris. When she danced close to the edge of the circle, she dashed out of the crowd and into the woods with her skirts held high.

Her heart was beating so fast she should have been worried, but all it did was make her light-headed. She looked back over her shoulder and shrieked when she caught sight of Broen. He was chasing her, his expression a mask of determination.

Well, she would not make it simple. Once she reached the woods, she darted between the trees with ease. She heard him mutter something in Gaelic.

“That will cost you a penitence.” She took refuge behind a tree and turned to face him.

“A mere drop in the bucket compared to what I’ll owe for what I plan to do with ye once I catch ye.” He stalked her around the tree, both of them breathing hard.

“So certain… Maybe I am not in the mood to entertain your whims,” she teased him pertly.

One fair eyebrow rose. “Ah… a challenge from the fair lass…” His expression darkened dangerously. “Are ye saying ye do nae want a taste of this?”

He raised his kilt, giving her a plain view of his erect cock. She should have found his actions vulgar, but the hunger burning in her passage doubled, her body feeling empty. She forgot to continue moving around the tree and ended up leaning against it while taking the opportunity to look at the piece of forbidden flesh. His cock was thick and long, and she recalled very well how much having it inside her had satisfied the need raging through her.

He dropped his kilt and reached out to grasp her wrist while she was distracted. She shrieked when he yanked her toward him, but it wasn’t a sound of fright. Instead it felt like she was too excited to contain all the emotion inside her.

“What have I caught?” he roared with victory. “A lass ripe for tumbling.”

He pressed a hard kiss against her mouth, but she returned it with equal strength. Her heartbeat had slowed but wasn’t completely normal, and she didn’t want to let the moment die. She wanted his strength, wanted him to ravish her.

He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest as she gripped his head and kissed him. He caught the sides of her skirts and boldly lifted them until he could flatten his hands against her bare thighs. She shivered, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hands against such an intimate area. Her clitoris begged for attention, and she arched her back, shutting her eyes as he stroked her from hip to midthigh and then reached farther back to caress her bottom.

“I thought ravishing happened much faster.”

He gripped each side of her bottom, sending another spike of need through her. “Demanding, are nae ye?”

“As much so as you,” she countered.

He drew his hands around to her thighs once more. “Aye, ye’re that, all right, Clarrisa of the house of York.”

He lifted her off her feet, drawing a startled gasp from her lips. He pressed her back against the tree and kept her there with his body pressed against hers. He tossed her skirts aside and raised his kilt with more ease than she liked.

“Do nae frown, woman. I am nae quite as practiced in this art as ye are thinking.”

“I do not believe…”

He thrust smoothly into her, interrupting her thought process. A soft moan rose from her as she gripped his shoulders and savored the delight of being filled. It was delight too, a feeling of enjoyment so intense there was nothing else that mattered.

“I believe we both would rather be engaged in the business of ravishing…”

His tone was thick with need. His hands returned to her thighs and supported her while he made good on his promise. The pace was hard and fast with no hesitation, only the pair of them moving in unison to feed their need.

He cursed against when his seed erupted. She was struggling to draw breath, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“That was too damned fast.” His head was buried against her neck, and both their hearts hammered away from the frantic pace they’d both employed.

“Well… if you cannot keep up, Broen…”

He lifted his head and eyed her. “There is spirit, and then there is hellish temperament.”

He let her legs down and pulled his sword off his back. He leaned it against the tree before lying down on the new spring grass growing between the tree trunks.

“Come, lass. Come lie with me in true May Day tradition.” He offered her his hand, and she took it. Soon she was nestled against his side, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. For a moment, they listened to the sounds of the birds calling to one another and the breeze gently rustling the new leaves. The grass smelled sweet and fresh. Somewhere, the earth was newly turned, and there was the scent of her lover’s skin too.

“Gaining an annulment will take time.” Broen stroked her hip. “Perhaps a long time.”

“I know,” she muttered.

He raised her face so she could lock stares with him. “Will ye wait, Clarrisa? I’ll no’ ask yer kin, for I cannae respect them for sending ye to be the king’s broodmare. So I’m asking ye to give me yer bond.”

He could do so much better, but he knew that. She might do better too, at least if she measured her success by titles or power.

“I’ll wait.”

There was no other answer, but her heart filled with happiness again when he smiled at her.

“I believe I’m falling in love with ye, Clarrisa, so it’s a good thing ye agreed.”

“Oh, is it now?”

He pressed her down when she tried to sit up all the way. “Aye, it is, for I’d have had to keep ye locked in me keep until I was sure.”

“And now that I’ve agreed to stay?” she asked.

“I’ll build another wall around me keep to ensure ye are well secured, for I do nae think I could bear to lose ye. I hope ye shall no’ miss yer home in England too greatly.”

“Oh, I was never anywhere for more than a season. My uncle feared I’d grow fond of one place over another, and he wanted to make sure I was willing to go wherever he directed. He also feared the Lancasters would overrun his lands.”

She meant it as a pleasant comment, but Broen stiffened. She lifted her head and witnessed his frowning. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry ye do nae know what a home is, lass.”

He meant it—was angry on her behalf—and it touched her heart. He cared about her feelings, the single thing no one in her life had done since her mother died.

“Maybe you can teach me.”

He smiled and pressed her head back onto his shoulder. “I’d like to, lass.”

She smiled, hearing the echo of his promise as she drifted off into sleep. Broen MacNicols would do more than try; he’d succeed. She was sure of it.

***

“Norris Sutherland is at the gate!”

Broen stiffened and set her aside. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from the retainer who was running up the aisle toward them. The man stopped, laboring for breath.

“Norris Sutherland and his men are at the gate. He demands ye meet him.”

“Then he shall have it.” Broen sounded savage. “Two weeks was nae long enough for him to stay away from me gates.”

“Broen…”

“Mount up, lads!”

Broen turned to face her and cupped her face with a hand. It looked like he was trying to memorize her face, his gaze was so intense.

“Be here when I return, Clarrisa, as ye promised?”

It was a question. She heard it in his tone and nodded before she’d even thought about it. There was nothing to contemplate. Without a doubt, she never wanted to leave his side. The last two weeks had been pure bliss.

He was gone in another second, the longer pleats of his kilt swaying as he moved quickly across the hall. The men who’d been enjoying their meals all rose to follow him. Many paused to kiss their wives and children, but as the sound of horses came from the yard, all that was heard in the hall were muttered prayers.

***

“Maybe I’m just getting used to it, but it seems like this lot looks a bit meaner than the last two armies we faced.” Shaw’s voice lacked true humor. Broen couldn’t blame him, because he agreed. Norris’s men did look ready to draw blood, but Norris took to the center of the field, leaving his men behind.

“The man still has archers,” Shaw warned.

“And I still will nae be called a coward.” Broen kneed his stallion and let the animal have its freedom. Normally he enjoyed the surge of speed; today, all it did was twist the tension between his shoulder blades.

“What do ye want, Norris?”

“The look on yer face dares me to say ‘the York woman.’”

Broen cursed. “Over me dead body.”

Norris grew serious, staring at him for a long moment. “Are ye sure ye want to be so attached to her, Broen?”

“It is nae a question anymore. Those who want to quarrel with it will have to recall they had the chance to stand up when yer father asked for a man to step forward. I stole her, and I’m keeping her.”

“As yer leman?” Norris asked soberly. “Her family will nae give up a dowry easily.”