Wicked Highland Ways Read online

  She started to sputter, but he rolled over until she was sitting on top of him. The change in position took her by surprise, shocking her into silence. Bothan cupped her hips, pressing her down onto his body. The position had her straddling his cock between the folds of her slit as her dress spread out around them.

  Christ, he feels good…

  And the grip on her hips sent a shudder of excitement through her core.

  He chuckled and rubbed her hips. “Ye like it…me touch.”

  Brenda set her teeth into her lower lip. “There is more to a marriage than passion, Bothan.”

  “Aye,” he agreed more solemnly than she’d expected. “And like anything in life, there is a time…and place for it.”

  He reached up and pulled the lace holding her bodice closed. The knot popped instantly, and he tugged the lace from the eyelets. Her breasts sagged down, feeling heavy and needy. No matter what her mind wanted, her body craved his. Desire was flowing through her veins like rich French wine. No matter how much she wanted to argue, she knew it would intoxicate her even as she tried to maintain her protest.

  So she might as well take his advice.

  “A time and a place?” Brenda inquired. Bothan raised his gaze to hers in response. “Well then, husband, I believe it time for ye to be taken…”

  He was cupping her breasts, his fingers kneading the soft flesh as her nipples contracted into tight points. Her core was melting as her mind settled on a course of action. She cupped his shoulders and rose up. His cock sprang up, hard and rigid.

  “Maybe I think yer place is beneath me,” Brenda declared as she lowered herself onto his length.

  His eyes narrowed. She watched the way his expression transformed with pleasure. A deep, sexual sort of pleasure.

  She felt it too.

  Hunger was a living force inside her, and Brenda had no intention of ignoring it. There was a wildness inside her, breathing and pulsing with the need to hold onto him while the opportunity was hers.

  Bothan gripped her hips, rising up off the bed to thrust into her as she came down. She lamented not taking time to remove more of her clothing because she was hot, but stopping was out of the question.

  And her husband wasn’t going to let her keep the dominant position either. He growled at her before rolling her over and onto her back.

  “Ye’re mine, Brenda,” he hissed as he pinned her beneath him, grasping her wrists and pulling them high above her head.

  “I am more than just…yers,” she declared.

  He lowered his head so that their faces were close enough for her to feel his breath on the delicate surface of her lips.

  “Ye are the only woman who is mine,” he growled. “And I will show ye the merit in enjoying the position.”

  He wanted to master her. Brenda recognized the flash of male intent in his eyes.

  And yet there was something new about it. This wasn’t the cold, calculated look of a man who felt he was superior to her simply because of his gender.

  No, what she witnessed flickering in Bothan’s eyes was the need to prove himself to her. To pleasure her in a way that would keep her from ever straying from his side because she knew he was the only man who could feed the need raging inside her. He wanted to take her beyond the carnal needs of passion to the place inside her where she’d always felt so very alone.

  But her body wasn’t going to allow her to linger in the moment. Everything was building, raging out of control. Brenda didn’t fight it; no, she flung herself into the fury, letting it rip at her and twist her insides until everything burst in one fiery explosion.

  Was it pleasure?

  Or torment?

  She didn’t care. The only thing of any importance was that Bothan was there with her. His scent filling her senses, his hard body slamming into hers as his growls mixed with her cries.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Nothing at all.

  * * *

  Brenda fell asleep beside him.

  Bothan felt the moment that her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. He was weary, but fatigue was no match for the memory of what had happened the last time he allowed himself to sleep while she was depending on him for protection.

  He stroked her face, enjoying the moment of freedom to touch her as he pleased. It was surreal in a way because she’d appeared in his dreams so often since he’d met her.

  Now she was real.

  But for how long?

  He eased away from her, covering her so she’d stay warm. She snuggled down into the bedding, a contented little curve on her lips.

  Bothan dressed and went to the doors. The Sutherland retainers had orders to keep Brenda in the chamber. They eyed him, a pair of smirks on their lips. Brenda likely wouldn’t thank him for making sure there were witnesses, but she also knew the world was full of unpleasant necessities.

  He’d do what needed doing to keep her.

  Or at least to keep her away from Hamell.

  “I know my father.” Cormac Sutherland was sitting in the weapons room at the base of the tower. He looked at Bothan, gesturing him forward to share the food in front of him.

  Bothan sat and broke off a piece of bread from a large round. He had a feeling he’d better eat while he might. The look on Cormac’s face wasn’t very promising.

  “My father will weigh the strength of the Campbells against the Gunns,” Cormac continued.

  “Brenda is a Grant,” Bothan added.

  Cormac nodded in agreement. “The Grants are a long way from Sutherland.”

  “And the Campbells are closer?” Bothan asked the unnecessary question.

  “Better to think of another way to deal with Hamell,” Cormac suggested. “Once my father returns, I fear you will lose the chance to keep yer wife.”

  “That is something I have already thought of,” Bothan said. “Do you really think I came here without thinking the matter through?”

  Cormac tilted his head to one side. He was chewing on a piece of cheese. Once he swallowed, he washed it down with a sip of ale. “I’ve always liked ye, Bothan. Mostly because you are an honorable man. My father sees endless appeals for judgment from men who would rather wheedle their way to what they want instead of earning it themselves.”

  “Such as Hamell Campbell,” Bothan suggested.

  Cormac shrugged. “He is simply an instrument of Laird Campbell.”

  “And yet,” Bothan continued, “not so innocent.”

  Cormac lifted an eyebrow and waited for Bothan to continue.

  Bothan held up four fingers. “Four wives in their graves. No issue to inherit. He’s guilty of looking the other way at best.”

  “And murder at worst,” Cormac agreed. “But my father will always choose the path that is best for Sutherland.”

  “Aye.” Bothan picked up the round of bread and stood. “I suspected ye might tell me so. But I thank ye for giving me time to keep yer father from giving Brenda to Hamell.”

  Cormac nodded. “He’ll have to wait until she is proven to not be carrying yer child. My father will not cross that line of tradition. If there is a babe, my father will consider it a handfasting.”

  “Or risk angering a large number of his men,” Bothan confirmed.

  “I’ve no liking for the need for witnesses either,” Cormac stated grimly. “Yet it seems a necessary evil.”

  “I need fresh horses,” Bothan declared, “and yer word that ye will safeguard me wife.”

  “Where are ye heading?” Cormac asked.

  “Better that ye do nae know,” Bothan replied. “Yer father might ask ye.”

  Cormac took a moment to consider Bothan’s words before he nodded. “Take what ye need, and I bid ye good luck.”

  Cormac offered Bothan his hand. They clasped wrists before Cormac swept the remains of their meal into the cl
oth laid out on the table and tied it into a bundle. Bothan took it with him as he disappeared into the dark passageway. The castle wasn’t completely black, and the windows allowed enough moonlight in for him to see by. Hamell might prefer to gain his prizes by wheedling, but Bothan had always fought his fights straight out.

  But this time, Bothan realized the stakes were the highest they’d ever been.

  For he was fighting for his wife.

  Six

  The bells rang on the walls of Sutherland Castle just before sunset the next day.

  The tolling began with the two atop the gate towers but spread until every bell was ringing loudly and clearly. Brenda crossed to the window and watched as riders entered the yard to the delight of the Sutherlands. From the height of her chamber room, there was no way to make out features, but she knew the earl from the way his people clamored for his attention.

  He was helped from his horse before making his way into the great hall in the center of the castle yard.

  Bothan has left ye.

  Brenda walked back across the room. Her feet were sore from her pacing, and her belly rumbled with hunger because a single meal had arrived at dawn and the day was waning now.

  Would ye care to see him made a prisoner along with ye?

  The answer was no. Brenda nursed her injured feelings on her way across the floor. She’d just felt so…intimate with him the night before. Waking up alone had her fighting off tears of loneliness. Not that anyone would ever know about those little drops that had covered her hands in the darkest hours of the night.

  She sniffed and blinked her eyes, refusing to cry again. If naught else, she didn’t need to be any thirstier.

  It was a pathetic little thing to be in control of.

  Helpless…

  Brenda didn’t care for how the word came to mind and how impossible it seemed to be to uproot it. A rap finally sounded on the doors. Brenda turned and watched as the retainers opened them.

  “Stay in there, Mistress,” one of them warned her sternly, “or ye’ll go without yer supper.”

  Brenda forced herself to stand still as a neat row of maids entered. The younger ones were curious, looking at her as they carried in a variety of plates. Everything was set down, and the maids turned around in answer to the snapping of the retainer’s fingers.

  The man wasn’t planning on dealing with his laird being upset over losing her. He watched Brenda as the maids left, his expression softening a small amount as she remained in place.

  “Thank ye,” he muttered before closing the doors.

  Brenda let out a snarl. Oh, it wasn’t a fitting sound for a lady to make, but no one was there to hear her frustration. She moved toward the plates, seeing what had been sent to her. There was more than enough food for a meal and two buckets of water for washing.

  But what Brenda noted was the fact that the Sutherlands weren’t planning on there being many opportunities for the doors to be opened.

  Helplessness…

  Brenda felt her temper rise, and she allowed it to rage. At least the flames burnt away the feeling of being trapped. Where did that leave her? She honestly didn’t know. But it wasn’t helpless, so she’d take what she could get.

  * * *

  “Yer son had me locked in yer dungeon!” Hamell raged at the Earl of Sutherland. “My uncle is no’ going to like hearing of it.”

  The earl had gray hair. He wore a flat cap to conceal the spot on top of his head where his hair had thinned. But his eyes were still sharp.

  “I understand you tried to start a fight inside my home,” the earl began. “You’re lucky to still be standing inside Sutherland.”

  Hamell wasn’t fool enough to continue with his tirade. He drew up short and bit back his next outburst.

  The earl didn’t miss it either. The older man nodded firmly. “Now, what is this matter of you arriving with a stolen woman?”

  “Ye granted me the right to wed Brenda Grant,” Hamell exclaimed.

  “I did no’ give ye permission to attack Chief Gunn,” the earl interrupted, “or to bring him to my castle with a valid reason to appeal to me for justice.”

  Hamell wasn’t deterred. He opened his arms wide. “The woman has a dowry that had the King taking notice of how valuable it is.”

  The earl grunted. “Well, as to that point, I agree.”

  Hamell smiled with victory.

  “Which is no’ me saying I will turn a deaf ear to Chief Gunn,” the earl was quick to add. “He’s a loyal man to Sutherland and claims he wed the Grant lass. If the deed is accomplished, I cannot undo it.”

  “It was an English wedding,” Hamell argued. “The Grants are Catholic. So are you.”

  The earl slowly smiled. “Yet it was the King of Scotland who sent Brenda Grant to England to be wed. The King might be young, but he knows the English Queen is head of her English church.”

  Hamell’s complexion was darkening. “The King is a long way from here. He meddled enough in this matter. Brenda Grant is from the Highlands. Better the dowry stay within the clans than be given to England.”

  “A fine idea,” the earl agreed.

  Hamell was back to grinning. The earl contemplated him for a moment before shifting his gaze toward his son Cormac.

  “Chief Gunn has appealed to me for the lass on the grounds of consummation and possible issue from the union,” the earl said.

  “Chief Gunn left England without consummating the union,” Hamell insisted. “There are no witnesses.”

  “There are Sutherland witnesses,” Cormac declared. “There was no reason to deny Chief Gunn the company of his wife.” Cormac flashed Hamell a grin. “Bothan didn’t attack me.”

  Hamell’s eyes bulged. “Ye bastard!” he raged as he lunged toward Cormac.

  The retainers in the room moved to protect their laird’s son, but Cormac didn’t need help. He lowered his head and rammed into Hamell, twisting him around and locking his arm around the man’s neck. Straightening up, Cormac choked Hamell while the man frantically tried to break the hold.

  “Cormac,” the earl called out to his son. “Ye’ve made yer point.”

  Cormac let out a disgusted sound before releasing Hamell. The chamber was filled with the sound of Hamell staggering away from the heir to the earldom. The retainers watching made it plain they enjoyed seeing the display of their future laird’s ability.

  “Yer son,” Hamell declared, “knew full well of yer blessing on me wedding Brenda Grant!”

  “True,” the earl conceded.

  “Laird Campbell is going to hear of this,” Hamell threatened.

  “No one is going anywhere just yet,” the earl declared. “Chief Gunn is not here, and it seems we’ll all be waiting to see if the lass is with child or not. If there is issue, ye’ve lost her.”

  “There are ways to deal with unwanted issue,” Hamell suggested.

  The earl slowly smiled. “It seems I find meself in agreement with me son on the matter of keeping ye in the dungeon.”

  “Laird Campbell will hear—” Hamell protested as the retainers behind him grabbed him by the upper arms.

  “Ye can be certain of it!” The earl raised his voice. “Laird Campbell will hear of how I watched ye try to kill me only son…right before me eyes! And that ye tried to have me agree with killing an unborn child, which is a mortal sin in the Church ye claim to be a member of!”

  The earl looked at his men. “Toss him back in the dungeon.”

  The Sutherland retainers didn’t hesitate to carry out the earl’s orders. They hauled Hamell and his men out the door, leaving the chamber quiet.

  “Ye know I must consider the Campbells’ strength.” The earl spoke softly to his son.

  Cormac had been waiting for his father to speak. Now that they were alone, his sire would make it clear that he expected Cormac to think
of Sutherland first and foremost.

  “As we should keep in mind the Gunns and Grants,” Cormac replied.

  The earl tilted his head to one side. “Ye know the Campbells pose a far more immediate threat to us.”

  Cormac didn’t falter. He stared straight at his father.

  The earl grunted, but his lips rose into a grin that was full of pride. “I was a young man like ye once, Cormac. I see the need for justice in yer eyes, and in me heart, I agree. Hamell is a sniveling, whining excuse of a man. It turns me stomach to think of watching him carry off a prize.”

  “Which is why I made certain there would be witnesses to Bothan bedding his wife,” Cormac told his father.

  “Where is Chief Gunn?” the earl asked.

  “I do not know,” Cormac answered. “But he will be back, of that I’m certain.”

  The earl grunted. “Ye made it so he has time.”

  Cormac nodded.

  “Even with time,” the earl warned his son, “I doubt Chief Gunn can find the means to making me rule in his favor.”

  Cormac flashed a look at his father. “If any man could beat the odds, I’d bet me money on Chief Gunn.”

  * * *

  “Ye’ll not tell me no.”

  Brenda heard a woman outside her doors a few days later. She crossed the floor to listen.

  “Yer father has given strict instructions to keep the doors shut tight,” one of the retainers on guard duty told whoever it was.

  “Ye may close them tight…behind me,” the girl insisted. “Now get out of my way.”

  Brenda backed up a few paces. The retainers were obviously debating the issue, but the doors creaked and opened wide. The woman standing there locked gazes with her.

  “I am Annella.” She introduced herself and came straight into the chamber.

  “Lady Annella,” one of the retainers informed Brenda with a stern look. “The earl’s daughter.”

  Brenda offered the girl a quick courtesy. The retainer grunted with approval.

  “Enough of that.” Annella waved her hand through the air. “We’re abovestairs, after all. No need for formalities.”