Page 9 of Dorchad

Osgan stepped inside, seizing her from behind before she could face him. Walking backward to kick the door shut, he pulled her lace cap down over her face, and then shoved her forward atop the tapestry on the table. She didn’t struggle, as she desired rough treatment, which aroused her as nothing else. For once it did the same for him, as his cock swelled and rose.

“No, no, please,” Malvina choked out as he clamped his hand around her neck. “I’m a married woman. My husband shall kill you for harming me.”

“Your husband would only watch and wish himself me,” he muttered against her ear, the charm he’d hung around his neck altering his voice so she couldn’t recognize it. Holding her down, he jerked up her skirts and found her naked and wet for him.

Once more his tàladh had done the work for him. Born with the gift, which gave him the ability to attract and seduce anyone without effort, Osgan never had to work at all to acquire or keep a lover. Like this silly wench, they’d do anything he asked of them.

“You cannae take me,” she protested, shivering with delight despite the fear in her voice. “’Tis the wrong week. You shall put a bairn in my belly.”

“I shall use you here, then.” Osgan slapped her quivering buttocks before he took out his cock and pressed the head between them. It took some effort to penetrate her rosebud dry, and he had to keep his hand over her mouth to muffle her shrieks of pain. Once he’d seated himself fully inside her, she clenched around him as if she never wanted him to stop hurting her, for such was her greatest desire.

“I didnae ken ’twas you, my sweeting,” Malvina gasped out.

“You shall report to the magistrate’s clerk that a new wench now serves the MacRune Clan,” Osgan told her as he worked himself deep inside her body. “She hasnae reported to the village headman, nor paid the new tax your husband has demanded from those in service.”

“What do you mean? You’re my husband.” Malvina tried to pull her cap away from her face, and gasped when he shoved it back down. “Beiste, you dinnae need use me for such. If you know of her crime, send your men to arrest the slut.”

“You reckon me the magistrate?” Osgan panted the words as he hammered into her tight channel. “I could be anyone. ’Twouldnae matter, aye? For you may spread yourself for any randy tadger.”

She groaned as that suggestion brought on her pleasure, racking her with violent tremors.

Osgan realized he would need more than her boring reaction to his jibes to spill, so he pulled out and stroked his gleaming shaft until he jetted all over the laces of her bodice.

“You villain,” she gasped, going limp.

Malvina had no idea what real villains were. Imagining her being facked for all eternity by the dark Fae Queen’s personal guards made him smile. Perhaps he would take her back with him to Elphyne after he found the cluet, and do just that.

“Report to your husband as I told you,” he warned as he straightened his garments, “or I shall spread word of the hoor wedded to Beiste Duff.”

Osgan tugged the tapestry over her, and left the room before she could free herself. After he bathed the stink of her from his flesh, his next visit would have to be to Dun Maor, home of the MacAlen Clan, where another of his potential lovers needed his guidance.

Laird Tair MacRune heard of the new arrival on the island from his lady wife, Lucy, who had also been brought back through time by the cluet. That the enchanted rag had delivered yet another female from a distant future meant someone among the clan had wished for her, which infuriated him.

“I know that look, but don’t get mad,” Lucy said as she perched on the arm of his oversize chair in his inner chamber. A tall, graceful blonde with fetching light green eyes and a lusciously curved body, she’d changed his life by agreeing to share hers with him forever. “We’ve had enough wind tearing through the highlands lately.”

Thanks to Tair’s mortal weakness his moods caused the weather to change, and dark emotions could bring on terrible storms. Since marrying his woman, however, the skies had remained calm, clear and sunny. After spending every night loving her, he slept better and woke happier than he ever had in his long life.

“Tell me,” he prompted, pulling her long, slender body down onto his lap.

As Lucy described what had happened, Tair wondered why his second hadn’t come to report to him before his wife. Dorchad had many duties to attend to each day, often making decisions in his stead to keep the clan and their vassals from annoying him too much. Tair had always been best with ruling with the threat of an iron fist, but acting with deliberate canniness. He could only think of one reason why the chieftain had not come to him before Lucy.

“Did Dorchad beat the wench, and neither of you wish me ken?” he asked his wife after she finished the elaborate tale.

“No, of course not.” She hesitated, grimaced, and said, “He kissed her.”

Tair frowned. “I speak of my second, no’ his twin.”

“It was Dorchad. I overheard two guards say some passing patrollers saw him do it.” She leaned against him and began fiddling with the laces of his tunic. “Here’s the thing that’s even more bizarre: the patrollers heard her ask him to kiss her.”

It took some effort not to gape at her. “Och, they jest with you. Or they mistook another man for the chieftain.”

“They’re serious, and it’s not entirely nutty. She’s a woman, he’s a very scary man...you know, I thought at first she might be near-sighted and half-deaf, but she’s fine.” She uttered a wry chuckle. “Safe to say he’s probably never dealt with a woman who likes him.”

“Of course he hasnae. No one likes him. Och, I like him a little, and Cath as well, but a wench?” Tair sighed. “Mayhap she’s addled from a blow to the head.”

“Sorry, no. I talked to her for about an hour, and she’s entirely lucid and has no injuries. I’m going back to talk some more after I get her a gown to wear.” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “The chieftain is handsome enough, I guess. Well, the black lava eyes and sepulchral voice are still scary to me, but he and I get along fine now that I’m officially yours.”

He grinned, happy to be reminded. “As I’m yours. Kiss me, Wife.”