Brenda stirred while it was still dark.
Fatigue was weighing her down, and Bothan’s warmth made it hard to wake up. Still, something refused to be ignored. She blinked and opened her eyes. The fire had burned down, leaving only a bed of glowing coals. A tiny amount of wind made it to them, blowing across them and making them bright for a moment.
It was enough for her to see the shape of a man. She gasped, sitting up as Bothan opened his eyes and moved. He was on his feet before he saw what she did. Reaching out for his sword, he shoved her to the side, drawing the weapon from the sheath and swinging it in a high arc above his head.
Brenda landed on her backside. She wasn’t wearing a stitch, but she was far more concerned with identifying the danger they were in. Horror gripped her as she saw more than one shape in the dark. Bothan thrust his blade through one, only to be struck from behind as he was withdrawing his weapon.
She heard the sound of his skull being hit with a heavy club. His body jerked, and then he slumped to the side in a boneless heap.
“No!” she screamed as she launched herself toward him. She reached him, frantically searching for signs of life.
“I believe I’d enjoy taking ye home in naught but yer skin, Brenda,” Hamell Campbell declared gleefully.
Icy dread gripped her as she recognized him. There was dirt smeared on his legs and arms to mask his scent. So close to the river, Bothan hadn’t heard him or his men approaching.
They were both so very stupid.
But she took the larger share of the guilt on herself because she knew the Campbells. Their greed made them pressure her father to wed her against her mother’s concerns over how young she’d been. Her sire had loved her, but he’d been a man who had a clan to worry about, and with neighbors like the Campbells, he’d had to placate them or risk a feud.
She’d been the price, and it seemed Bothan was now paying as well.
Hamell tossed her smock to her with a wink. “I’m no’ of a mind to share ye with me men…yet.”
Brenda bit back the argument she wanted to make. She’d learned early that life often offered her two choices: She might be right, or happy. Today, she’d take being clothed over blistering Hamell with words he deserved.
“Chief Gunn isn’t dead,” one of the Campbells observed after watching Bothan’s chest rise and fall.
Hamell shifted his attention to Bothan. Brenda pulled her smock over her head and got her arms through the sleeves. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to see what Hamell would decide.
Hamell looked at her. “I could kill him.”
Brenda felt her heart stop.
Hamell read the horror on her face. “But I think it will serve me better to have ye fear for his life. Come away with me now, or I’ll put a sword through yer lover while ye watch.”
She bit back the correction she wanted to voice.
Husband…he’s yer husband…
Fate was feeling especially cruel in making her long to say the words Bothan had wished for when she was about to agree to leaving with another man.
She had to.
There was no resistance in her when it came to nodding agreement. She had to give Bothan a chance at life.
Hamell grunted at her. He reached out to lock one hand around her wrist before he tugged her away from where Bothan lay. She turned her head, desperate for a last look at him. Just one final memory to sustain her.
She very much feared it would be the only balm her soul would have for the rest of her life.
* * *
He’d been a fool.
Bothan’s mind was offering up the thought as he started to wake. It was harder than it should have been. His mind was stirring, and yet breaking through to consciousness was proving difficult.
He needed to wake.
He felt those words hit him like a bucket of icy water. As he came closer to the edge of consciousness, a wave of pain tried to warn him against waking completely.
No, there was something he had to do.
Brenda…
Bothan came awake with a roar. He rolled over and up onto his feet. His vision swam in dizzy waves, but he pushed up to his full height.
Christ, ye are an idiot!
The makeshift camp only accentuated how great a fool he’d been. So close to the river’s edge, he’d placed them in a vulnerable position because the water masked the sound of any intruders.
Maddox would never let him hear the end of it.
Not that Bothan cared too much about having his captain tear a strip off his back. He’d let the man bring it up for decades if it meant Brenda was there to laugh over it.
What mattered was tracking down Hamell Campbell.
And killing the man.
Bothan took the time to dress because he wasn’t planning on staying at the tower long. Hamell was hardened enough to ride at night, which meant Bothan would have to strive harder.
And perhaps smarter.
Maddox was on his feet the moment Bothan gave the bell outside the kitchen a ring. Men gained their feet in an instant as torches were lit and the clan came together to see what was wrong.
“Christ,” Maddox exclaimed as he caught a glimpse of the blood running down the side of Bothan’s face.
“Hamell Campbell has stolen me wife,” Bothan declared. “I’m riding after him, and it will be bloody. I’m looking for volunteers.”
His men formed up, their faces betraying their anticipation of the coming fight. Even the women watching sent Bothan firm glances. Hamell and his men had made a grave error in trespassing so close to their home. It wasn’t the blood sport they all craved but the peace of mind to lay their heads down at night and sleep.
Men were pulling the horses into the yard. Alba was directing her staff to pack every bit of bread and cheese into bundles for them. Maddox caught Bothan watching it all.
“Do no’ look so surprised, Chief,” Maddox informed him. “Ye’re a fine chief, and the lass is the right fit for the Gunns.”
Bothan finished securing his saddle and looked at Maddox. “I’m proud to call meself yer chief.”
Maddox slowly grinned. “Ye should be.” He mounted his horse and clung to the back of the beast as it shifted. “Unlike the thieving Campbells…we Gunns fight our battles straight on!”
The retainers making ready to ride out with them roared with approval. Bothan swung up onto the back of his stallion and dug his heels into the sides of his horse.
Unlike Hamell Campbell, Bothan would be the victor.
Brenda was his.
* * *
“Get yer tits under control.” Hamell followed his crude comment by tossing Brenda’s underdress at her.
Brenda caught it.
Hamell’s men were watering the horses. He’d taken them down near the water’s edge, where there was abundant cover from trees and rocks alike.
“I enjoy watching ye bite back that temper of yers,” Hamell taunted her as she struggled to get into her underdress.
At least the tie was still dangling from the last eyelet. Brenda started threading it through the rest of the eyelets while Hamell smirked at her plight, denying her privacy simply because he might.
He was such a petty creature.
“Ye were always such a proud little bitch,” he continued without a care for how lewd it was to watch her dressing. “Truth is”—he lowered his voice so his men wouldn’t hear—“I wouldn’t have been interested in wedding ye if ye’d given me a taste of yer honey.”
Brenda knotted the lace and sent him a hard look. “Ye dare to admonish me for no’ turning adulterous?”
Hamell shrugged. “Ye were a good little wife to me cousin. Faithful, obedient enough. But what has that gained ye?” He leaned closer, sharing his sour breath with her. “Me cousin was a bastard to ye. Used to seat his mistress right there at the high table next to you.”
Brenda raised one of her eyebrows. “A few of the reasons why I refuse to wed…ever again.”
“Ye married Chief Gunn,” Hamell was quick to point out.
Brenda lifted her hands into the air. “An action that benefited both of us. I needed out of the arrangement made by the King, and Chief Gunn wanted me cousin Symon to owe him. It will end in annulment.”
“So why were ye fucking him?” Hamell demanded.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Brenda steeled herself against the crudeness of the comment. When fighting with a dog, she had to get into the gutter. “My maidenhead was taken long ago. No one will know if I enjoy meself or no’. Besides, I even have the Church’s blessing.”
Hamell held one finger up in her face. “No’ the true Church.”
“Ye have buried four wives,” Brenda said softly. “I do nae think ye are any authority at all when it comes to God.”
His eyes narrowed. A moment later his hand collided with her face. It was a hard blow, one his men heard clearly. Two of the younger ones turned to look their way, but what frightened her the most was how the rest of them ignored what their leader was doing.
Ye shouldn’t be surprised.
Brenda realized the feeling filling her wasn’t surprise. No, it was longing for the way Bothan had treated her.
“I like yer spirit, Brenda.” Hamell reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. He pulled closer as he sniffed at the auburn strands in his grip. “It goes well with yer fiery hair.”
He shifted his attention to the side of her face that was throbbing. Satisfaction filled his eyes before he released her hair.
“Bringing ye to heel will be amusing.”
He turned his back on her after giving her cleavage a long look. Brenda reached down and caught the edge of her smock. She gave it a good tug, pulling the fabric up higher.
Not that it would matter much. Hamell knew she was at his mercy.
He wants to toy with ye…
Brenda latched onto the idea. However flimsy a thought it was, the alternative was despair.
So she’d gather her courage and face her fate. As for lament, she’d dispense with it. Perhaps she’d failed to savor her time with Bothan while she was in it, but at least she had the memories.
It was better than naught.
And likely better than what the future would afford her.
* * *
Bothan found Hamell’s tracks easily enough.
“The bastard is heading to Sutherland.” Maddox voiced what Bothan thought.
Bothan nodded and stood. “It’s his only haven, and he knows it. If he takes Brenda back to Campbell land, I can argue against the dowry on grounds that I wed her before the English Queen.”
Bothan mounted as Maddox nodded.
“Hamell would think ye are only interested in the dowry,” Maddox added.
Bothan turned his horse in the direction of the Sutherland stronghold. “Someday soon, I am going to sit down with Symon Grant and enjoy drinking to the end of this matter.”
“I hope that part will happen after we kill some Campbells,” Maddox said without a hint of remorse.
Bothan heard his men adding their approval.
It wasn’t bloodlust.
It was justice.
* * *
Hamell took her to Sutherland Castle.
Brenda felt her belly tighten into a knot at the first sight of the Sutherland stronghold.
Gunn Towers had impressed her with their strength, and Sutherland Castle was everything she might have expected of Bothan’s overlord.
Hamell’s as well.
Her belly twisted tighter as she absorbed the reality she faced. Hamell was riding fast. A couple of the horses had been abandoned along the trail as they failed to have the stamina to keep up.
And Brenda understood the reason.
Out on the road, Bothan would take Hamell man to man. The Campbell retainers riding with Hamell might guard their laird’s nephew, but they were still Highlanders. Sneaking up on Bothan allowed Hamell to steal her without anyone raising a complaint. But if Bothan caught them and issued a challenge, Hamell would have to face it or risk having his own men turn on him.
Cowards didn’t last very long in the Highlands.
But Hamell was no stranger to fighting. Brenda looked at the scars crisscrossing the man’s arms and neck. He was just as hardened as Bothan. She didn’t want to think about the pair of them fighting over her.
Because ye fear to lose Bothan…
It was the truth, one she didn’t shy away from. Instead she tried to gather it close to her heart as Hamell took them down the road toward Sutherland Castle. It rose up taller than she’d thought it was as they drew near. The huge towers had thick walls between them. The entrance was watched by two archer positions. As they rode through it, arrows might have been unleashed on them from above.
Once inside, the Sutherland retainers closed in behind them, making it clear they wouldn’t be leaving until the earl said they might.
As far as the Highlands went, Sutherland was the only earldom. The King might hold higher rank over the earl, but the King was very far away.
“Hamell Campbell.” The man who spoke was also hardened. He stood on the steps of one of the largest towers, watching them as they entered his yard.
Brenda slid from the back of her horse but had to hold onto the saddle for a moment because her knees were weak.
“I did no’ expect to see ye back, Hamell,” the man addressing them stated firmly. The tone in his voice made it clear that whoever he was, he wasn’t feeling very welcoming toward the Campbells.
“I’m here to see yer father’s words made law,” Hamell informed their host.
Cormac Sutherland.
Brenda knew the name of the eldest son of the Earl of Sutherland. This man was backed by rough men who looked ready and almost eager to deal with the men Cormac was making clear he didn’t want to welcome into the castle.
Cormac looked at her. His eyes narrowed. “Bring her inside.”
If Brenda had doubted how much authority Cormac had, she was left with no further illusions when the retainers behind her moved forward and caught her by her upper arms.
“I can walk,” she assured them.
They must have heard, her but they didn’t give her any indication they had. She was walked across the yard and up the steps that led to the tower. She gained a glimpse of a massive great hall before she was being escorted through a passageway. Window shutters were open, affording her a glimpse of expensive glass. When the weather was wet or snowy, there would still be light in the stone hallway.
Cormac was ahead of them, the longer pleats that made up the back of his kilt swaying with his determined stride. The heir to the Sutherland earldom had blond hair, and when his men finally followed him into one of the smaller towers where the bottom floor was used as a weapons room, she gained a glimpse of blue eyes.
Hamell had been left to follow them on his own. Cormac gestured to the men escorting her forward, which meant she was delivered right in front of him. A childhood full of training meant she was lowering herself out of habit. Cormac watched her perform the polite courtesy, but he didn’t return it.
“Brenda Grant,” Cormac stated firmly. “Yer hair is as red as I’ve heard.”
Brenda quelled the urge to shift. “I do nae understand the fascination with red hair,” she replied with her chin held steady.
Cormac’s lips twitched. It was a little cocky motion, one that momentarily transformed his face into something very handsome. But his expression hardened as Hamell grunted.
“I’m here to wed her,” Hamell insisted. “As yer father promised me I might.”
“My father is nae here,” Cormac informed him softly.
Brenda felt the tension in the room rising. Cormac’s expression might not give anything away, but a glitter in his eyes made her suspect he didn’t agree with his father.
Ye’re seeing what ye want to see…
Maybe. Brenda held onto the flicker of hope as Cormac stared at Hamell.
“Where did ye get her?” Cormac demanded.
Hamell crossed his arms over his chest. “What does it matter? Yer father granted me the right to wed her.”
Cormac gestured with his fingers. His men understood instantly, gripping her upper arms and pulling her back so he could move closer to Hamell.
“It matters,” Cormac declared in a low tone. “The only reason my father agreed with yer suit was to keep peace between the Campbells and Sutherlands. Feuds are no good for any of us.”
“She’s here,” Hamell said. “Ye needn’t look like ye’ve got a bug up your arse, man.”
“Where did ye get her?” Cormac repeated. “Do ye think I’m blind, man? Ye’ve ridden yer horses half to death and she”—Cormac pointed at Brenda—“appears to have most of the road on her from the pace ye’ve been pushing yer men. I am no’ still on the breast, man. Ye stole her and brought her to Sutherland.”
“So what if I stole her?” Hamell said, defending himself. “I had yer father’s permission to wed her. So it stands to reason I’d need to have her in me possession to do so. She’s hardly the first bride taken for her dowry.”
“I would know who ye stole her from,” Cormac demanded. “My father wasn’t giving ye free rein to start a feud.”
“She’s a woman,” Hamell hedged. “No’ even a maiden. The matter will be forgotten soon enough.”
“He stole me from Chief Bothan Gunn,” Brenda interrupted. “Me husband.”
Hamell growled and raised his hand to strike her. The retainers at her sides moved in a flash, putting themselves between Hamell and herself. Hamell froze, realizing he was beat, but there was a flash of promise in his eyes.
“Aye, Chief Bothan Gunn.” Hamell shrugged and looked back at Cormac. “If a man can no’ keep a prize, he does nae have the right to it.”
Cormac’s lips rose in a mocking grin. “If that is yer thinking, perhaps I should put ye outside the gates and see if ye can best the man when he arrives.”
“He is no’ coming for her,” Hamell stated. His tone might have been firm, but he shifted, betraying how much he didn’t like what Cormac had said.
“So ye do think I’m newly weaned,” Cormac growled. “Ye would no’ be riding so hard if ye did nae have a reason.”
“My laird ordered me to wed her,” Hamell reiterated. He stepped closer to Cormac. “Ye jump when yer father tells ye to. I do nae have the blessing of being a firstborn son and heir. Me laird sent me out to wed Brenda Grant, and I dare not fail.”
Brenda didn’t care for Hamell’s reasoning.
But she could not refute it either. Her own father had bent beneath the demands of Laird Campbell.
Cormac Sutherland might not have cared for the circumstances, but he wasn’t ignorant of the realities of life either. The castle they stood in hadn’t been built from good deeds. No, there had been marriages arranged for gain and power struggles. Blood had flowed, she didn’t dare doubt it.
“My father,” Cormac said, “isn’t here.”
Hamell wasn’t intimidated by the statement. “His word is still law. The earl gave Brenda Grant to me in marriage. I’m here with her, and I expect ye to abide by yer father’s decree.”
“She claims she is married,” Cormac argued. “If she has a living husband, even the Earl of Sutherland cannot give her to ye in marriage.”
Hamell smiled. The expression chilled Brenda’s blood. “They wed in England, so under the bastard Queen Elizabeth’s church. All we need is a priest.”
“And a stronghold to protect ye from the wrath of Bothan Gunn while ye conduct yer wedding and consummation.” Cormac wasn’t going to yield so easily.
“Ye think to deny me what yer father promised?” Hamell asked. “My laird will no’ be happy to hear about it.”
The threat hung in the air. Every man in the room heard it. Brenda curled her fingers into fists as she watched Cormac. He was playing a dangerous game. One that might spell disaster for Sutherland if a clan the size of the Campbells decided to take offense. He might personally wish to do something different, but defying his father would have consequences.
Dire ones.
Cormac suddenly looked up. A retainer was standing in the doorway.
“Chief Bothan Gunn is arriving,” the Sutherland retainer declared.
“She is mine!” Hamell declared loudly. “Yer father said it was so! Lock yer gates, or I swear the Campbells will hear of yer interference in this matter.”
The retainers in the room didn’t care for Hamell’s tone.
Or perhaps it was his threats.
It didn’t matter which offended them; they shifted closer to Hamell, seeking any excuse to deal with him.
“As ye are so very quick to point out,” Cormac informed Hamell, “my father is the earl. I would no more deny one clan under him entrance to Sutherland than another.”
The heir to the earldom of Sutherland stepped up until he was only a step away from Hamell.
“Such a thing,” Cormac continued, “would be for me father to decide.”
Cormac looked at Brenda. He was a serious young man. It was clear he’d been raised to be the Earl of Sutherland’s successor. His expression gave nothing away. Not even a single shred of hope for her to latch onto. In his world, decisions would be made with the political situation firmly in mind.
Oh, she understood the reasoning.
And it was hardly the first time she’d lamented that hard facts would dictate the direction of her life.
Today, though, she felt the sting more deeply. As though her heart was being torn from her chest.
“I will receive Chief Gunn,” Cormac declared. His tone left no room for argument.
But Hamell wasn’t wise enough to heed the warning.
“Ye will nae!” Hamell insisted.
Hamell made the mistake of stepping toward Cormac. The Sutherland retainers reacted in a flash. They surged forward, grabbing Hamell and his men. Brenda was tugged back by a hard pull on her skirts as the two Sutherland retainers behind her came around her and placed themselves in front of her.
The fight didn’t last long, and there wasn’t any doubt who the victor would be. At least Brenda saw the reality of how badly the Campbells were outnumbered. Any levelheaded person would have recognized the folly of trying to win against the Sutherlands inside their own castle. Hamell, though, didn’t seem to acknowledge any of those facts. He fought hard but was dragged out of the room by the Sutherland retainers.
Cormac wiped his mouth on his sleeve, a vicious smile of enjoyment on his face. It vanished just as quickly as the fabric of his shirt soaked up the trickle of blood from his split lip. He caught her watching him. Something flashed in his eyes. It looked a lot like pleasure, but he covered the lapse in composure without admitting anything to her.
“Ye seem to bring out an interesting trait in the men who attempt to claim ye, Mistress Grant,” Cormac told her.
Brenda offered him a slight scoffing sound. It earned her a twitch from one side of his mouth, which might have been called a grin if it hadn’t melted away by the time she took her next breath. He looked at the Sutherland retainers still in the room.
“Keep her here,” Cormac ordered.
It wasn’t that Brenda had believed she had any freedom before, but once Cormac spoke, the retainers nearby moved closer. They were rigid and immovable.
And she was very much their prisoner.
* * *
Cormac Sutherland met Bothan in the yard. Bothan reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet. The single gesture was as formal as Bothan planned to be.
Bothan climbed the steps until he was eye to eye with the man. “Expecting me, are ye, Cormac?”
“I would be disappointed if ye were no’ following close behind Brenda Grant,” Cormac replied.
Cormac turned and walked into the tower. Sutherland retainers were guarding the doorway.
On the other side, Brenda stood behind the crossed pikes of another set of Sutherland retainers. Bothan took a moment to look her over. His temper had been kept in check as he rode and made sure he was using his wits to solve the matter instead of charging headfirst into a fight. He knew the value of keeping a cool head, but the sight of the dirt smeared down his wife’s clothing threatened to break his hold.
Bothan looked at Cormac. “What game are ye playing, Cormac? Brenda is me wife.”
Cormac stood up to Bothan’s direct gaze. Unlike Hamell, Bothan wasn’t using the names of his relatives to sway the next in line to the earldom.
“This is no’ a matter of politics, Cormac,” Bothan stated firmly. “Perhaps before I wed her it might have been, but the deed is done now. Blessed and consummated. Stealing a bride is one thing. Brenda is me wife and might well be carrying me child. The matter is done.”
Cormac let out a grunt.
“My father is more than my sire,” Cormac informed Bothan. “He’s the Earl of Sutherland and overlord to both of us.” He held up a thick finger when Bothan started to speak. “And he is no’ here.”
“So?” Bothan questioned the man. “Me wife is, and I’ll thank ye to tell yer men to get out of the way between what is mine by law of the Church.”
“But ye wed her in the English church,” Cormac stated firmly. “Hamell Campbell is using the lack of Catholic blessing on yer union as a reason to declare it null and void. Since it is Brenda’s second marriage, ye cannae hold her by physical relations alone.”
Bothan let out a grunt. “I’ve had a belly full of kings and politics! I’ve served Sutherland well, and I never thought getting a bridle on Brenda would prove to be a simpler task than dealing with everyone’s ideas of what constitutes a wedding.”
Bothan was close to losing his temper, but he remained facing Cormac. “I pledged meself before God and witness to this woman.”
“Ye should have consummated the vows with witnesses,” Cormac answered. “When land is concerned, ye know well men will fight dirty to gain the upper hand.”
Bothan grunted. “When the bride is a redhead, a man is wise to let her think she’s got a choice.”
He looked across the room at Brenda and the way her cheeks were turning red with temper.
“The truth is I was giving her slack before pulling her in. An English wedding meant Brenda rode into Scotland with me and gave me time to ease me way into her bed.”
Brenda let out a sound that was very close to a growl.
Cormac made a choking sound. “Take Mistress Grant abovestairs.”
The retainers didn’t hesitate to act. Brenda let out a huff as she was turned and taken out the doorway behind her.
“Stay,” Cormac ordered Bothan when he went to follow her.
Bothan turned to face Cormac slowly. “I’m dangerously low on patience, man.”
“I understand,” Cormac replied, stepping half in front of Bothan. “For I feel the same.”
Bothan grunted. “Explain, Cormac, and I warn ye, I’m in need of killing someone. So do nae press yer luck.”
Cormac grinned. It wasn’t a friendly sort of curving of his lips. No, it was more of the sort of expression Bothan wanted to see on the face of a man who was going into a fight next to him. There was a flash of comradeship in Cormac’s eyes.
“Ye have reason to think yer wife might be carrying yer child?” Cormac asked.
Bothan felt his own lips curving. “It is a definite possibility.”
Cormac’s lips split into a wide smile. “As I told ye, my father is no’ here. Perhaps he’ll arrive by tomorrow. I cannae make any choice between ye or the Campbells concerning this matter. Mind ye, if there is a question of there being issue from yer union, I believe my father would see the matter as a handfasting in need of the sacrament.”
Bothan nodded. “More than one man would agree with ye.”
Cormac reached out and slapped Bothan on the shoulder. “Hamell Campbell will be spending the night in the Sutherland dungeons for attacking me. I cannae have a man with such a lack of control over his temper loose in my father’s castle while me sister is here.”
“And me?” Bothan asked pointedly.
“Ye have stated yer position,” Cormac replied. “And I’ve told ye I cannae decide the matter because it was me father who gave permission to Hamell to go after Mistress Grant. It seems ye will have to wait upon me father’s return.”
The heir to the earldom of Sutherland drew in a deep breath and let it out, still grinning like a boy intent on sneaking tarts from the kitchen under the eye of the cook. Not just for the joy of enjoying a treat but for the thrill of knowing he’d pulled something over on those around him who thought themselves so much more experienced.
“Chief Gunn, ye’ve given me no reason to lock ye away. I cannae allow Mistress Grant to leave Sutherland, but since ye claim to have wed her—”
“I did marry her,” Bothan insisted.
Cormac shrugged. “Who am I to decide which church is the rightful one? It’s a matter for my father. He is the Earl of Sutherland.”
There were both permission and warning in Cormac’s voice. Bothan reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet.
Cormac’s grin twisted into a smirk, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Mind ye, I heard ye say ye intended to get a bridle on yer wife.” Cormac closed his fingers into a fist and hit Bothan on the upper arm. “If she throws yer body out the window of the chamber I had her placed in, I give ye fair warning…I am going to have a good laugh over yer plight. Do nae ye know better than to tangle with a redhead?”
Bothan returned his friend’s grin, but he pointed at Cormac. “I’m sorry to see ye have no’ found the courage to try one.”
It wasn’t a jest though.
Bothan turned and left the room. Stairs rose up along the side of the tower. He took to them with a determined stride, the separation between him and Brenda becoming too much to bear now that he knew she was his to reclaim.
* * *
The chamber to which Brenda was taken was quite nice.
But she found she had no appreciation for the fine furnishings. The doors were closed tightly behind her, the two retainers shooting her hard looks before they were blocked out by the solid wood. She crossed the area of the receiving chamber to look out of the window.
It was more than three stories to the ground. A death sentence if she tried to jump.
Not that she’d get too far without a horse. The Sutherlands would only run her to ground.
But the doors opened again, and this time Bothan was there. He stood for a moment at the entrance as the retainers closed the doors again.
Brenda found herself staring at him.
The days of frantic travel suddenly dissolved as she took in the way he was looking her over. The fear that had gripped her heart during that time of never seeing him again and perhaps hearing he’d died there between those rocks finally dissipated.
And his words rushed back through her mind as he came forward.
“Need to get a bridle on me?” Brenda demanded. “Letting out some slack on the rope so ye can make me think I’m free?”
She’d propped her hands on her hips as she confronted Bothan. He was watching her, letting her vent at him. The surge of emotion didn’t make any sense. But she was swamped by it, tumbled in the wave of relief and renewed worry over just what the Earl of Sutherland would say when he arrived.
“Insufferable man,” she declared when he remained silent. Brenda went to turn her back on him.
Bothan caught her, closing his arms around her as he came up behind her. She gasped, trying to free herself, only to suffer the knowledge that he was far stronger than she.
Oh, but he is so wonderfully alive…
“Have ye no’ learned yet, me lovely lass,” he cooed against her ear, “not to turn yer back on me when ye decide to take issue with me? I will take every challenge ye cast down, Brenda…count on it.”
“Let go,” Brenda hissed.
She stumbled when he complied, opening his arms so she ended up pitching forward because she’d been straining away from him. She caught herself, stopping with a little skidding sound from her boots. Her skirts swayed forward with her movement. Bothan scooped her up before the fabric settled back down.
“I do let the rope out on ye,” he explained on his way toward the bed. He dropped her onto it in a tangle of skirts and limbs. “I let ye run because I love the sight of ye tossing yer head and daring me to try to ride ye,” he finished.
“Why am I no’ surprised to hear ye say something such as that?”
Bothan grinned at her. It was the most menacing curving of lips she’d ever seen. He tossed his doublet aside and opened his belt. Her eyes widened as she realized precisely what he had on his mind.
“Do nae be thinking we’re going to—” Her tongue suddenly refused to perform as she started to push her way across the large bed.
The length of wool that formed his kilt puddled around his ankles before he lunged after her in only his shirt.
“What I think I am going to do,” Bothan declared as he landed on top of her, “is help ye use yer passion for something much more enjoyable.”
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 cloth 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.