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HEATHER
I clearly have displeased my laird, I thought, as he went quiet.
I didn’t know exactly how or why things had changed between us in the weeks since the siege had begun. It was natural, in a time of fear and doubt, for him to withdraw. He was the chieftain of my clan. And as the constable of a castle, he had larger concerns than the burning need for him that I felt between my legs each day and night. But the more gentle and infrequent our bedding together became, the darker a fear grew inside my heart that he was already tiring of me.
Of course, once, I would have welcomed such a thing…
I had only offered my body to John Macrae in exchange for my father’s life, when he was caught stealing from the laird. And the laird had only accepted my offer to teach my father a lesson. I was to serve as an example that any man who defied the laird might have his daughter turned into the laird’s harlot.
But instead of being taken into the laird’s bed, I’d had to fight my way there.
Because Laird John Macrae was nothing like he seemed.
He was a kind man. A good man. A thoughtful one. And instead of using my body, he’d let me roam the castle baking pies and wearing new dresses and learning my letters like a lady of leisure. He wouldn’t take my maidenhead until I pleaded with him to do it. And on the glorious night he’d finally made me his own—he unleashed inside me a depthless hunger for him.
I could not stop wanting him. I could not stop craving the way it felt to be possessed by his rough hands. To be held down, to feel the welts his belt left upon my backside. To feel the sweet release of giving myself over to him body and soul. I wanted him so badly, this handsome, rugged, stern man.
I was too disgraced now to be his wife or even his mistress, but I could be his whore and I felt there was some honor in that. But I also loved him. That was the tragedy of it. Because now, when he tired of me, I knew it would break my heart.
Reaching quietly for the paddle I’d so foolishly gifted him, I wanted to fling it into the fire. To burn away the humiliation of having so boldly offered my laird such a thing. What a selfish wanton he must think me to initiate carnal games when his mind was occupied with weighty—
His hot mouth closed over mine, in a sudden, startling way. And gone was the gentleness there before. Oh, how I had missed the bruising kisses that stole my breath away!
When he grasped me hard against him like this, it felt as if he had let loose some ravaging creature inside him. As if I was so desirable that he couldn’t keep himself caged. That he was mad for me. Mad. And though I should’ve been frightened by the ferocity of his bruising kiss and the way he yanked my nightclothes up round my waist, some part of me wanted to laugh in delight.
I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, marveling in the size and power of him even as his rough hand found its way between my legs. “So hot, lass. Do you always burn here for me, my little slut?”
“Always,” I confessed, not minding the vulgar names he called me when his passions were high. I had come to hear them
as endearments. The more vulgarly he spoke, the higher his ardor rose, so I tried to encourage him. “I’m wet for you, too. My whole body ready to be used by you as you desire.”
“Then get this off before I tear it off,” he said of my flimsy sleeping garment. “In fact, you’re never to wear it to my bed again. You’re to sleep naked beside me so there is never any barrier to my taking you when I want you.”
He was working himself up into an irritation over the shift that separated his body from mine, and I knew, from experience how deliciously things would go if he could made to be angry about it. He was angry about the war and so many truly horrible things in the world that were beyond his control; if he could made to be enraged about my nightdress, well, that he could conquer.
“I shouldn’t have worn it in the first place,” I whispered.
“No.”
“You’ve said many times that I must be available to you when you wish.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his gaze darkening.
“But still, I wore it to bed, all to behave as a modest maiden—”
“Which you have no business doing!” he snapped.
I liked doing this to him. And I liked what he did to me because of it. So I dared to take the game a step further. “You’ve taught me to please you. To anticipate your needs. A girl so well-trained should have known better.”
“A mistake you willna make again,” he growled, his brogue more prominent as he gave me a little shake. Then, all at once, he began tearing the gown from me. Tugging it open with a rip so that my breasts spilled forth. I gasped when he did it, then gasped again as he continued to tear it. Shredded it, really, so there would never be any mending it. “I’ll make of it nothing more than a rag. That and anything that ever comes between us, until you learn your lesson.”
My blood was running so hot that the cold air was almost a welcome respite as it swept over my naked body. And the laird feasted on the sight of the body he’d exposed, his eyes lingering a bit on my soft, pale belly as if searching for swelling, and wondering if he’d yet left a bastard there. I think it would please him if there were…
I wanted to reach for his hands and guide them to my breasts, but I knew better. He was not a man to be led. He would touch me when and as he wished to. He would be touched by me at his command and never otherwise. Finally tearing his heated eyes away from the expanse of my trembling belly and flared hips, he hoisted himself up in the bed. “Bend over my knee and get that rump in the air for me. Now!”
A whimper escaped me. I knew what he meant to do. His grip tightened around the handle of the paddle and I heard a trill of fear echo inside me right alongside the arousal. My skin tingled in anticipation as I hastened to crawl over his lap, my hardening nipples skimming over his bare thighs—a delicious sensation that made me quiver.
As the laird’s broad forearm came down over the small of my back to pin me in place, I thought I knew what to expect from the paddle. I’d suffered my father’s lash as a girl, whenever he was in an ill mood. I’d taken strokes from the laird’s belt as well. But let me just say that I was in no way prepared for…
