Their Private Arrangement (3 page)

Within moments her release was set, and when it hit she cried out, loudly. Her cunny was awash, hot juices running down between her buttocks. Still Duggan licked her, and when she managed to level enough to glance down she saw that he was also stroking his manhood, which he had freed from his breeches. It was long and hard and damp at the tip. Morag captured her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at it admiringly. It was very large, and she knew it would feel good inside her. She longed for the weight of his body over her and the thrust of that engorged member inside her. Her cunny rippled and she whispered his name beneath her breath when she imagined what it would feel like, having that hard thing in her juice-doused channel.

When he lifted his head to look at her, she saw admiration in his eyes. He held her gaze while his fingers moved inside her. “Good?”

He pressed two, then three fingers into her channel, and she nodded, her hips moving gratefully against the intrusion. Then he glanced the other man's way, and when he did he held her open with one hand while he plowed into her channel with the other, fingers moving in and out as if they were a man's member. Each time he thrust, his thumb nudged up against her swollen bud.

“Oh! Oh!” She rolled her head and bucked. His willingness to display her to the other man and his rough approach had disarmed her completely.

“Lord, you are a hot one,” Duggan commented, whispering low, as if for her benefit alone. “I will enjoy being there.”

The promise in his words made her moan aloud, and her hips moved quicker, urging him to use her. Even as her pleasure built, she noticed that Duggan kept looking toward the other man, as if his reaction was important. She was just a diversion, no more. It was what she was used to, but she found that she liked it when Mr. Grant looked over at her bared puss, for it stirred up a fine confusion of feelings—both embarrassment and lust. To see his curious glances while Duggan toyed with her made her feel quite delirious with pleasure.

“She is everything I said she would be, is she not?” His statement was directed to Mr. Grant, but his words made her chest swell.

“I see how well you look together,” Mr. Grant eventually responded.

“Not too distasteful for you then?” Duggan gave a wry laugh as he climbed between her open legs and directed his lengthy rod to her opening.

When she glanced over at Mr. Grant she saw that he had widened his eyes.

“I confess it is a rousing sight,” he stated.

As Duggan took his member in his hand and shifted between her thighs, laying the hard length of his rod against her damp flesh, he looked back at his friend. “I can see that,” he said, and nodded down at Mr. Grant's breeches.

Morag took another quick look. It was quite true. Mr. Grant appeared to have an impressive erection himself, for his fine breeches stretched tightly over his groin, straining under the apparent size of his member.

Duggan's smile had taken on a mischievous glint and his eyes flashed as he looked over at his friend. “Come now, James, don't be shy. Why not afford yourself a bit of pleasure while you watch me having mine?”

Without awaiting response, Duggan returned his attention solely to her.

Morag had scarcely recovered from the release she'd had at his hands moments before, and when he locked eyes with her and began to move his hips, pressing his solid length between them, she was startled. He gazed down at her with possessive eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. The longing that she had felt for him took root deep within her and grew.

“Are you ready to receive me?” Again he pressed his erection against her tender spot, and she moaned aloud.

Need pounded inside her. Shifting so that her feet were flat to the bed and her knees lifted either side of him, she pushed her hands down his back, inside his loosed breeches and scratched his bared arse. “I think you know the answer.”

He directed his cock to her opening and pushed. Her willing flesh gave way easily.

The broad head of his cock stretched her open and she cried out, her back arching against the bed, her feet lifting from the mattress. “Oh, Mr. Duggan!”

As he pushed deeper, filling her, the muscles in his neck stood out and his eyes narrowed. Morag locked her ankles at his back, arching up to meet him.

He paused only to tug her bodice from her breasts, nodding when she pulled her nipples free for him to see. Their eyes met, and understanding passed between them. Then he began to ride her, and it was hard and fast and she relished every moment of it, moaning wildly and urging him on. As her release built once more, she fell loose in his grip and writhed under him, her body taking him, letting him mold her to him, savoring every thrust he had for her.

In the background, she was aware of Mr. Grant. He appeared to lurch forward in his seat and when her head rolled that way she saw him fumbling with his breeches quite urgently. A moment later he had his member in his hand and was stroking it rapidly, his free hand locked around the base and sac.

It hit her strangely, to see one roused cock being so lewdly handled while another claimed her at her very center, and she spilled moments later, after which she was rapidly joined by Duggan, who responded to her rhythmic grasp on his length by feeding her more of it, cursing as if thwarted, then pouring his hot seed into her.

Morag grabbed him to her, chuckling, as he loomed over her in his delirium. “Oh aye, you're a fine man, Duggan Moore, I always knew you would be.”

 

Less than a week later the Drover's Inn was surrounded by men from Dundee. They came shortly after dawn, shouting for people to rise from their beds to answer them. They carried muskets and torches and were leaving no stone unturned in their hunt for the wrongdoer they sought. Morag felt fear grip her heart. They were the bailie's men and they had come to dispense justice. Morag flitted through the inn, watching where they went. Several of them quizzed the alewife, whilst some hunted through the cellars and others took on the outhouses and barns.

Morag had scarce ever moved so fast, spreading word as quickly as she could, warning those who should be on their way. Then she went to the scullery, where she kept a watchful eye on proceedings, her heart racing. She steadied herself with one hand on her chest as she bided her time. She wanted to go to Duggan and Mr. Grant, who she knew to be slumbering together because she had passed part of the evening before with them. But since she had appeared in the scullery, one of the bailie's men had her in his sights, and it would look suspicious if she ran off. She knew who they were after, and she had already done her best to see that their hunt was thwarted.

A shout rang up from the outhouses and several almighty booms followed, the sounds of weapons being discharged. It sent a fearful shiver down Morag's back and her palms grew clammy. When the bailie's man headed outside to investigate, Morag darted away from the kitchen and up the stairs. As she went, she prayed they did not find their quarry.

Lifting her skirts in her hands, she hastened to Mr. Grant's rooms. Rapping quietly on the door, she rattled the handle. Mercifully, the door opened a moment later. It was Mr. Grant who stood there, and when his eyes lit on her, relief filled them. “Morag, hasten inside.”

Duggan was still there, dressed and standing by the fire, head turned in her direction.

She urged Mr. Grant to lock the door.

“We heard shouting,” Mr. Grant said uneasily.

She pressed her back hard to the door. “Aye.'Tis the bailie from Dundee and his men—they are hunting for a woman who is charged with witchcraft.”

Mr. Grant paled. “The bailiff from Dundee?”

Duggan rose to his feet, as if making ready to protect her. Anger flickered in his handsome eyes.

Morag did not like to see him with such a dark expression. “No, the woman is gone, and the men are following after her now.” Her belly tightened, for the woman they hunted had been good to her and Morag hoped the men would not find her, or her protector. Morag had done her best to warn them and hurry them on their way. “I came to tell you, lest they come back here to question you about her.”

“Is it the black-haired lass, Jessie Taskill, who they seek?” Mr. Grant asked, as if surprised.

Morag nodded.

Duggan came to her side and took her hands in his. “We heard the men, and for a moment we thought…” He glanced in Mr. Grant's direction, but he did not complete his sentence. Instead he lifted her hands in his and kissed them, first one and then the other. “Thank you, sweet Morag, for coming here to warn us.”

Morag realized that they thought the bailie had come for them. She had not thought of that, but now it made her think on it. Both men were tense, and her concerns renewed. Danger lurked close by for these two—who she now thought of as her menfolk—and that disturbed her greatly.

There was a proud but wary look to Duggan's expression and beyond him Mr. Grant paced the room, a frown darkening his expression. “If they demand entry now,” he said, “I beseech you to say that Duggan has come here to meet with you, Morag, to protect him.”

Duggan looked angered. “I can protect myself. I will not lie about what I am if they come after me.”

“Duggan, be wary.” Mr. Grant's gaze flitted back and forth. “It is always a possibility. If the bailiff is hereabouts, caution is sensible.”

Mr. Grant looked her way, as if he still sought her acknowledgment.

Morag nodded immediately. “Never fear, I am always cautious.”

An uneasy silence descended upon them.

Even when all had fallen quiet outside the inn, both men looked concerned. Morag went to the table to clear the dishes, and as she did she began to understand the shadow that they lived under because of their affection for each other. When her tray was loaded she nodded at Duggan. “Stay here. If they return I will come back and take you to my bedchamber. That will be no lie, for we have bedded together, have we not?”

It was with pleasure that she saw amusement light his face, chasing the dark shadows away. “That we have, lass,” he said. “That we have.”

 

Duggan watched her go with reluctance. It was not only because he feared for himself and James; it was because he wished to protect her, too. If they were seeking a woman charged with witchcraft, they might take Morag, suspecting it was her. He had heard of such wrongdoings. His mother used to sit beside the fire and tell his young sisters tales about the witch hunts that had taken place in Fife. It made his gut twist and knot, and he sat on the edge of a chair with his head in his hands, angered by the situation.

“She cares for you greatly,” James stated.

“She protects us both,” Duggan retorted, the burden of blame and who she cared for making him uncomfortable.

James turned away for a moment.

That pained Duggan. He knew that he had been harsh in his response and tempered it by adding, “She is a generous soul.”

“She is that.” James had a thoughtful expression.

Tension rang through Duggan. The situation had pushed him to confront matters. “I should leave here now, for I draw attention to you.”

James was quickly by his side, one hand on Duggan's sleeve. “No. Morag will tell you when it is safe to do so.”

Duggan nodded. In truth he did not want to leave. It would make him wild not knowing what was going on here, once he had returned to his home. A year ago his life had been simple. He cared only for his aged mother and his two younger sisters. Now he also had two lovers that he wished to shield, and yet he would have it no other way. “I have brought danger to your door.”

James shook his head. “Danger followed me from the moment I knew what I was. Even when I did not have you in my bed, my desires warranted scorn from those who would judge me.” They exchanged lingering glances. “However,” he added, “I've hit upon a solution, if you are willing to consider it.”

Duggan felt wretched in his soul, but at that moment hope still filtered through, so keen and honest was James's expression. He listened as James put forward his suggestion, and felt humbled by it. “You would be happy, were I to take a wife?”

“You would be happy, and that is all it would take to make me so.” He smiled. “You would be safe too. That is important to me.”

“And you?”

“That would depend on Morag. If she were willing, then I could visit you both as a friend.”

Duggan ached for it all.
To raise bairns with Morag…to see James
. “I feel unworthy of such a solution,” he responded gruffly.

James closed the gap between them, resting his arm around Duggan's shoulders. “We have been living a dangerous life these past weeks, and we've had a canny warning here this morning. Let us heed it.”

“Aye, it has been an awakening, thinking how easily it could be one of us, hunted down and condemned.”

James kissed him heartily. “It will not happen, I will not allow it. Now, shall we discuss it with Morag?”

Duggan thought about it, and the more he did the more he felt as if his chest were burning. “She knows I want her. You understand us both, and you are an educated man and you are better with words than I, James. You must raise the subject with her, and help me with it.”

James nodded. “And you are undoubtedly much better at pleasing her than I, so I will lay the path and you must tell her your aspirations.”

Duggan nodded.

“If she is amenable to the plan,” James added, “you must put the seal on the deal.”

Duggan sighed. “I hope it will be so.”

 

Morag attended to her duties for the rest of that morning as best she could, while the alewife and the other servants gossiped and watched for the return of the lawmen, but they did not come back. When midday came around and she was sure that all had returned to near normal inside the inn, she returned to Mr. Grant's rooms to reassure them.

Mr. Grant studied her cautiously. “Stay with us awhile, if you will.”