Bothan’s home was as hard as he and his men were.
The twin towers of the Gunn chiefdom rose up against the sky looking like a fortress that was impossible to breach. The stone was dark, almost black in places from the growth of moss. Set on the high ground, around its base a village was thriving. She could see the waterwheel where the mill was grinding grain into flour up at the top of the village. There were chickens and goats and cows in the pastures and stone buildings to prove the Gunns weren’t living in hovels made only of sticks and dried mud.
After so many days traveling, she found the sights and sounds of civilization a feast for her senses. The Gunn retainers were happy to be home. Men called out from their workbenches as they rode closer, greeting their friends and relatives. Children rushed to the edge of the road to enjoy the sight of the chief returning. Women appeared in doorways of houses, many of them holding babes. Children peeked around the edges of the doorways, their smiles showing off missing teeth.
The sound of the blacksmith working on his anvil came through the air along with a steady tapping from the carpenter’s workshop. Even the clucking of the chickens seemed welcoming after so many days in the wilds. Her mare quickened its pace as the animal recognized its home and the opportunity to be done with traveling for a time.
Brenda felt her belly rumble as the scent of bread filled the air. Bothan hadn’t stopped for anything more than to rest the horses. His men had hunted to keep them fed, but her mouth watered at the thought of something more than game animals.
Right after greeting their kin, the Gunn people directed their attention toward her. Men stroked their beards as they contemplated her, while younger women smiled shyly at her.
Bothan rode up to the base of his tower, swinging down and off his horse with a happy grunt.
“We’re home, lads,” he declared to his men. “I’ve never rode with a finer lot. Ye’ve proven yerselves well and against harsh circumstances. I’m proud to have been among yer number.”
His men enjoyed the public praise. There were smiles and slaps on backs as they allowed younger boys to lead their horses away. Bothan shook each man’s hand, offering private words of praise.
He was a good chief.
Even if Brenda didn’t care for the sight of him being so completely in command of the Gunn stronghold, for it tightened the hold he had over her.
She wasn’t going to fear him. In fact, she forbade herself to think about just how completely she was under his power now. Doing so would only feed the despair she’d spent the better part of the last week attempting to fend off.
There was a whoop and then several more joining in. The men were throwing off their sword belts and over-jerkins.
“Here now, miss,” someone said beside her.
Brenda turned and looked into the face of a Gunn retainer. He had a single feather sticking up on the side of his knitted bonnet.
“Best to look away now,” he advised her. “The men are heading down to bathe in the river. Ye’ll be seeing more of them than ye care to if ye do nae direct yer attention elsewhere.”
Whoever he was, there was a sense of authority in him. He reached up and helped her down, but once her feet were on the ground, she caught him staring at the strip of tartan Bothan had used to secure her wrists.
“I will deal with me wife, Leif.”
Bothan appeared from behind his stallion. A man was leading the animal away, clearing the space between them.
“Pleased with yerself, I see,” Brenda remarked as Bothan came closer.
Leif tugged on the corner of his knitted cap before withdrawing. In fact, a clearing had formed around them, but the Gunn people were still straining their necks in order to get a glimpse of what they were doing.
Bothan’s lips twitched, rising just a bit at the corners, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment the most.
“Aye,” Bothan confirmed in a husky voice. He caught her wrists, pulling her close to him so that his breath brushed her ear. “I am very pleased to have ye here.”
He pulled a knife from his belt and slid the smooth blade through the fabric around her wrists. Brenda looked at him as he jerked the weapon up and through the fabric. A rope would have left bruises on her as it tore into her skin and left her with wounds. The fabric would give her only bruises, and then only because she’d tugged on the fabric in an attempt to free herself.
“Now that we’re home, we’ll have the privacy to deal with each other without interruptions,” Bothan informed her softly.
Something twisted in her belly, a sense of anticipation she would just as soon banish.
Yet her flesh seemed to have other ideas, and her mind was all too willing to offer up a memory of how much she’d fought herself the night he’d laid down next to her.
She pushed away from him, needing space between them so she might think. Bothan was grinning at her as she tugged the remains of the fabric binding from her wrists and tossed them to the ground.
“Such a waste of fabric,” she informed him. “Better to have left me on Grant land. Me mind is set. I am too old to accept being chosen as a bride.”
Bothan had replaced the knife. He’d crossed his arms over his wide chest, making himself look larger and more formidable than ever. Another sensation snaked through her belly, and this time she knew without a doubt that it was arousal.
“Here ye can run if ye like,” Bothan informed her.
His statement confused her. Brenda blinked as she tried to decide just what he meant. Bothan closed the distance between them again, clamping his arm around her body to secure her in place.
“Run and I promise I will track ye down, Brenda,” he spoke against her ear. “I know me land well. I’ll find ye, and I will come alone, so we’ll have some privacy when I catch up with ye.”
She tried to push away from him, flattening her hands on his chest. She felt the rumble of his amusement, looking up to lock gazes with him.
“I like ye when ye’re feeling wild, so run if ye’ve a mind to,” Bothan said before releasing her. “It will give me leave to dispense with courting ye.” Something crossed his face that made her breath catch. “The choice is yers.”
Brenda stumbled back a few paces before stopping herself because of how hard she’d been straining to escape him.
The truth was she was battling herself. The look of raw desire that had flickered in his eyes touched off the embers still smoldering in her from their encounter. Time didn’t appear to have dampened them.
Temptation was wicked and yet oh so very tantalizing.
“I do suggest ye go inside and eat a fine meal first, wife,” Bothan said as he backed away from her. “I promise ye ye’ll be needing the strength to deal with me.”
Brenda propped her hand on her hip. “Perhaps I will stay right here and watch ye stumble through wooing me.”
She sent him a look full of warning. Bothan didn’t miss it, either. A flash of surprise crossed his face before he was grinning wide enough to show off his teeth. The brute enjoyed her attempt to put him in his place, which only made Brenda more determined to set him on his ear.
“Ye’ll be begging yer men to take me home before the end of the month, Chief Gunn. Mark me word on it. I will no’ call another man husband. No’ in this lifetime,” Brenda told him clearly.
Half his men were already on their way to the river to bathe. Stripped down to their boots and kilts, they turned when they heard her proclamation. They looked between Bothan and her, careful to hold back their reaction. Bothan reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap. He stepped back and offered her a low reverence.
“I accept yer challenge, Brenda Grant!” Bothan declared loudly.
His men were delighted, whooping and laughing as Bothan threw off his doublet and charged toward the river with them. Brenda turned as more than one backside flashed at her.
Which left her facing the women of the Gunn clan.
They stood contemplating her with mild amusement on their faces. Younger children watched through wide eyes, likely biting back their inquiries as to why Brenda had been allowed to be so tart to their chief.
Her belly rumbled, though, proving Bothan was correct about her needing a good meal. Walking into his tower wasn’t the wisest first step in a campaign designed to free her from his hold, but that was exactly what she turned and did.
He was correct; she was hungry.
But she’d be using the strength to leave him far behind, and that was a promise.
* * *
“Ye must be Brenda Grant.”
The woman speaking was formidable, to say the least. Like all children, Brenda had heard her share of warnings about how she should listen to those who had experience in life. The woman Brenda faced had time etched into her face with wrinkles, but her eyes still glittered with a sharp mind. For certain, this woman was someone who knew a thing or two about life.
“I am called Alba.” The woman offered her a nod of respect.
The woman wore a wool dress that was more serviceable than fashionable. There were patches carefully sewn under the arms where the wool had been worn and along the hem too.
“Are ye the Head of House?” Brenda asked politely.
Alba tilted her head to one side. She wore a cap with a strap that went beneath her chin and buttoned on the side. Only a little tuft of her hair was visible at the front. But there were faint soot stains on the cap, telling Brenda the woman had been working the ovens.
“We’re no’ much on titles here on Gunn land,” Alba replied. “As to the kitchens, I run them, as me mother did before me. Isla is me daughter.”
There was another woman behind Alba who lowered herself once her mother introduced her. Isla looked straight at Brenda as well. The lack of formality was refreshing after too many days at court where simpering was expected by nobles who had done so very little to earn it.
“Ye look as though ye’ve been on the road a good long while,” Alba said after sweeping Brenda from head to toe. “Best come into the tower, and we’ll get ye a bath while the men are cleaning up.”
It was such a simple idea. Yet Brenda struggled to accept it.
What are ye going to do? Stand in the yard?
Symon had agreed with Bothan.
In the end, it was that single idea that prompted Brenda to follow Alba into the first tower. Symon was one of the few men she’d trusted. Knowing he’d watched as Bothan had carried her off had kept Brenda silent for most of the journey north. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt alone in the world, but it still seemed to sting just as badly.
The lower floor was where the great hall was located. It was the entire length and width of the tower. There was a wide opening on one side that led to a passageway. Alba kept going through the hall, past the long tables that served as a place for the Gunn retainers to enjoy their meals. At night, the tables would be stacked so the men could roll themselves in their kilts and sleep. Many of the women serving in the kitchens were likely wed to some of the men, and they would lie down in the hall as well. Heating and maintaining a separate residence was a great deal of work, which made making use of the tower far more appealing.
There wasn’t a high ground.
Brenda stared at the end of the hall where a raised platform should have been placed for the chief’s table. Bothan and his captains would have eaten there, their status reinforced by the elevation of the seating.
But it wasn’t Bothan’s style to set himself above his men.
Refreshing…
Brenda passed through the opening and into the passageway with her lips still curved into a smile. What she hadn’t seen from the front was the long outer building where the kitchens and storerooms were. They stretched out behind the first tower, set back far enough to keep the tower safe in the event of fire.
The bathhouse was simple as well, but the thought of being clean was far more enticing than the location. There was a sizzle as Isla pushed a newly filled kettle into a huge hearth.
Someone cleared his throat from behind them.
“I brought the mistress’s things,” Leif said, his tone betraying his desire to be anywhere but there in the women’s bathhouse.
“Aye, I can see ye did,” Alba replied as she crossed the room to take the bag he offered. “Ye should have sent one of the younger lads. Men do nae belong near the women’s bathroom, and ye know it well.”
Alba’s tone carried the sort of authority only age could grant a person. There was a scuffle on the floor as Leif took off in a hurry like any lad of eight who had thought to snatch a tart before Alba decided to serve them.
Isla slowly smiled, enjoying her mother’s ability to command the full-grown captain. She caught Brenda watching her and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
Brenda laughed. She realized it had been a long time since she’d done so too. The knowledge made her more tired than she’d realized she was.
“Here now.” Alba turned her attention toward Brenda and the task at hand. “Let’s get ye out of yer dress. It’s trailing mud.”
“I’m not surprised,” Brenda agreed. They’d ridden hard and long. The tub was inviting, even filled with only cold water. She wrinkled her nose as she peeled off her layers of clothing. At best she might describe herself as smelling stale.
“Honestly,” Brenda remarked as her bodice was lifted away and her corset unlaced, “I do nae mind that Leif came here, only that he was kind enough to bring me a clean smock.”
“The chief rides hard,” Alba responded as she pulled Brenda’s smock free. “It’s a good thing ye have something clean to wear. The weather is turning gray now. This dress will no’ be clean until the rain passes.”
Isla added hot water to the tub. Brenda was climbing into it before the girl finished. The ability to be clean far surpassed her concern over being chilled.
Ye also do not want to be stared at…
Well, that was also true. Brenda began to pull the pins out of her hair because Isla and her mother were taking the time to look her over. It was a common enough thing, and yet Brenda discovered she had no courage when it came to having her bare body inspected.
She was so tired of being measured against everyone else’s standards.
Bothan’s people wouldn’t care much for her sentiments, though. As his wife, she’d be expected to measure up to whatever expectations they had for her. There would be those who resented her and those who tried to befriend her in an effort to gain favors. Somewhere in it all, she’d have to sort out who was sincere. At the moment, she had no strength for the task.
Alba voiced her opinion. “Stop worrying so much.”
Brenda lifted her head and looked over the foot of the tub at her.
Alba shot her a steady look back. She lifted a ladle and pointed at Brenda. “Ye do nae need to worry so much about impressing the Gunns. Even if I think ye are of good character to want to make a fine impression. I’ve learned folks will think what they will for their own purpose most of the time. Best to enjoy the comforts ye might and leave worrying be, for it will change naught in the end.”
Brenda nodded. Alba made a little noise in the back of her throat before she dipped the ladle into the water and lifted it above Brenda’s head so she could begin washing her hair.
Yes, people would think what they would. And most of them were motivated by personal gain.
Bothan didn’t come seeking yer dowry…
He hadn’t. Which left her pondering how she felt about the Gunn chief. He’d come for her.
But would he like who she truly was if she shared it with him?
She picked up a lump of soap and rubbed it across a piece of linen as she contemplated the idea. No one knew her.
Well, no one besides God.
She’d once been foolish enough to think her marriage would include an intimacy of souls where she might be herself behind the closed doors of the bedchamber.
She had been so very dreadfully wrong.
Brenda drew in a deep breath and set to washing her legs and feet. She’d been naive and young. Two things she’d made certain Bothan knew she was not any longer.
So what are ye going to do?
Brenda closed her eyes as Alba began to rinse her hair. She discovered herself slowly smiling.
Well, she was going to do precisely what Bothan had offered her the opportunity to do.
Make him woo her.
* * *
Maddox was stroking his beard. Bothan was used to the way his captain watched him. Today, though, Bothan turned away from his stallion and shot Maddox a hard look.
Maddox slowly grinned, proving Bothan’s attempt at warning him away had failed.
Bothan let out a word of profanity. He gave his horse a final pat before allowing the animal to settle into the stable stall to enjoy the first night indoors in many weeks.
“Ye’re hiding,” Maddox accused him.
Bothan grunted, but his captain wasn’t deterred.
“Hiding,” Maddox repeated louder. “Like an untried lad.”
“I’m giving the lass time to bathe,” Bothan said, defending himself.
“Brenda is no’ some fancy noble lady,” Maddox answered. “She’ll be finished now. Seems to me a wise man would have timed his arrival before she managed to get her clothing back on.”
Bothan pointed at his man. “There is where ye are mistaken. Brenda is no’ going to be bent by me arriving and claiming me rights. I do that, and she will never trust me.”
Maddox returned to stroking his beard. Bothan might have walked away, but he had a healthy respect for Maddox’s insight. His captain took his sweet time before nodding.
“Aye, ye’ve set yer mind on a woman,” Maddox said. “A lass wed young, well, she’s easier to lead to the place ye want her, coming as she does at her father’s direction. Brenda has tasted free will. That’s a dangerous thing for men and women alike. Makes it hard to accept authority.”
“I am more concerned over the fact that she tasted what a bad marriage is,” Bothan declared as he cast a look across the space between the stables and the towers. “As for free will, I do nae want to rule her.”
“Aye, ye do,” Maddox argued from behind him. “It’s no’ a pleasing thing to say, but ye want to run her to ground, and the battle between ye is as much of a draw as the surrender. Ye set yer mind on her because she refuses ye when ye know she craves ye.”
Having said his piece, Maddox went through the doorway and headed up to the towers, no doubt ready for a warm meal.
After weeks on the road, Bothan should have followed Maddox.
Instead, Bothan went in search of the thing he’d been unable to forget for the last year. She was there, in his home now.
And he was going to make her his.
* * *
“This way.” Isla took over the duty of showing Brenda abovestairs.
Three stories above the hall, Isla stopped and opened a door. Inside was a chamber that took up the entire floor. Brenda went inside, feeling a ripple of awareness go through her.
This was Bothan’s chamber. It was an idea as much as a fact. Her insides tightened as she caught the faint scent of his skin.
Brenda heard Isla leave the room and close the door.
Was this home, then?
Brenda discovered her mind contemplating the idea. She looked around the room, standing because she couldn’t seem to remain still. Sitting down felt like waiting in place for a beast to arrive and eat her.
Ye are being dramatic…
She was. But she smiled as she moved around the chamber. There was no curtain to section off the front of it for a receiving chamber. No, the Gunns didn’t waste something such as cloth on the newest notion of how a chamber should be divided up.
Instead, Brenda found the chamber clean and serviceable. There was a large bed off to one side. As sunset approached, that side of the chamber was the darkest, proving the bed was placed where the windows would brighten with the first light of the day.
Serviceable.
Practical.
She decided it suited Bothan. The man was strong and hardened by his environment. The village around the two towers was full of people who were thriving. They were strong, with many of the older ones displaying weathered skin from the elements, but they were not gaunt. The land must be fertile.
She stopped by one of the windows. There were thick shutters to close if the weather was foul, but they were open now, allowing her to see the yard behind the kitchens. Men were gathering as they anticipated the final meal of the day and the chance to sit and take their ease with one another.
“It’s a solid tower,” Bothan remarked from behind her. “If less fine than what ye find at court.”
Brenda turned her head, looking behind her. The light was fading, the sun glowing on the edge of the horizon now. Still, there were rays of light coming through the window to illuminate Bothan.
“I suppose it is a matter of what one considers fine,” she answered. “Tapestries on the walls do not cover the stench of too many people living together or ease the pain of being shackled for the sake of some royal personage’s desire for gain. If I never see another palace in me life, I shall be most grateful.”
His black hair still had droplets of water glistening in it. But he’d combed it and tied back a section of it so it didn’t hang in his eyes. His shirt was clean as well, along with the wool that made up his kilt. But he hadn’t put on a doublet or chosen a shirt with ruffles at the cuffs. She doubted he owned anything so frivolous.
Ye notice details about him…
Such as how deep a blue his eyes were. More like the color of the sea than a summer sky. She was transfixed by the way he focused on her, as though there was nothing else in the room except her.
“I am glad to hear ye say such, Brenda,” Bothan said as he drew closer to her. “I would have ye be happy in yer home.”
Awareness of him prickled across her skin. She shifted, moving to the side as he watched her.
“Do nae argue against it,” he said as he reached out and caught her upper arm. “Ye found me to yer liking very well, so have done with arguing against this union. I’ll no’ take it as a sign of unconditional surrender. We have a fine summer ahead of us to get to know one another.”
Ye are tempted…
And yet still so very resolved.
Brenda pulled against his hold on her arm, gaining her freedom only because he let out a grunt and released her.
“I do nae know ye,” Brenda responded. “And ye know little of me beyond the fact that ye want to bed me. So do nae think I find any comfort in that.”
Bothan tilted his head to one side and grinned at her. “I know a few details about yer tastes, lass, and that’s a fact.”
Brenda felt her eyes narrowing in response. But she had only herself to blame. Weakness was something she’d learned long ago to seal herself against because the price she’d pay for such lapses in judgment would be very high indeed.
“Ye are far too cocky, Bothan Gunn,” she informed him tartly.
He moved across the room and sat on the end of the bed. She felt her cheeks heating because her mind was offering up ideas of just how much she might enjoy sharing the bed with him.
“I want to bed ye,” Bothan declared boldly. “Ye were of the same mind after we crawled out of that river.”
Same mind? She’d been frantic to have him.
The memory singed her. Reminding her in vivid color of just how intensely she’d wanted to have him inside her. Her clit began to throb softly.
“But I want far more than what we had in that moment,” Bothan continued. “Come here, lass. Let me strip ye bare and show ye I have more intent than just fucking ye.”
His eyes glittered with promise. The look on his face froze her breath in her chest for a moment.
Dare ye?
Bothan pushed off the bed as she stood contemplating him. Her eyes widened as he crossed to her. He seemed to hold some strange power of fascination over her because even though she was undecided, she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. It was only at the last moment that she broke and turned aside.
But it was too late. Bothan clasped her to him, closing his arms around her to bind her to his body.
She heard him let out a sound of frustration. Felt his breath against her neck as his heart beat behind her.
“I suppose it’s a matter of trust,” he said.
She let out a little scoff. “Ye kept me tied for the past week. How dare ye ask me for trust when ye have none for me?”
“Aye, that’s true enough,” Bothan agreed. “I could see in yer eyes ye intended to run if I allowed ye the opportunity.”
“Can a woman not long for her home?” Brenda demanded. “Men never seem to think about how often they demand women leave everything they know.”
“There is naught for ye at Grant Tower but fear and a slow death where ye watch yer cousin have a family and try to convince yerself ye do nae long for children of yer own,” Bothan informed her.
“It is the only place I have ever been free of fear.” And Brenda didn’t care for how pitiful her words sounded.
Bothan turned her around. Behind her, he’d hidden how truly determined he was. She gasped as she took in his expression and the way his eyes glittered with hard intent. He clasped her to his length as he caught the back of her head to hold her in place.
“No one will hurt ye here,” he informed her tightly.
“No one except ye,” she argued. “I will be yer chattel.”
His eyes narrowed, showing how displeased he was with her words.
“Ye will be me wife,” he stated firmly.
She tried to push away from him, but he held her.
“But I will no’ force ye, Brenda,” he insisted. “Ye are drawn to me. So I will wait for ye to come to me.”
He tilted his head to one side and pressed his mouth against hers. The kiss was hard, and she resisted. But Bothan proved himself true to his word. He didn’t force her mouth open. He kissed her firmly, tempting her to return the pressure, to dispense with what she thought she wanted in favor of what her body felt. Pleasure was awakening inside her, in too many places to control. Her senses were full of him, the way he smelled, the hardness of his body, and how much she wanted to stroke his chest.
How much she wanted to have him fill her again.
But he released her a moment later.
“The only thing being yer own woman denies ye is an outlet for yer passion,” he informed her bluntly. “Returning to Grant land will mean ye cannae shame yer cousin and his new wife by taking lovers in their home. If ye seek out a lover and go to him, what will they tell their children? If they have a daughter, shall Symon demand she remain virtuous while turning a blind eye to yer behavior? Nae, I think not. Ye’ll not place yer cousin in such a position.”
Bothan shot her a hard look before he headed for the door and left.
She watched him go. Stared at the sight of his kilt swaying with his stride. He left her with the cravings he’d awakened. Left her fighting the urge to call him back.
Left her?
When had the thing she’d decided she wanted above all else, to be her own woman, become something that tormented her?
* * *
Brenda slept past daybreak.
Even with the window shutters open to let the sunlight in, she awoke to discover she’d buried her head against the soft bedding and shut the light out completely.
She sat up, startled by how bright it was. Her cheeks heated as she fought her way to the edge of the large bed and climbed out. She turned and straightened the bedding, attempting to make amends for being lazy. Alba’s words from the day before rose from her memory.
“I’ve learned folks will think what they will for their own purpose most of the time.”
The older woman might be correct, and still, sleeping so late in the day would earn Brenda a label of being lazy.
One she couldn’t in good conscience refute.
At least she’d thought to lay her second traveling dress out the night before. Most of the wrinkles had eased from the wool. She had little in clothing since she’d been kidnapped before being rescued and taken to the Scottish court. But Brenda didn’t mind. Her traveling clothing was serviceable and easy for her to get into on her own.
Calling a maid up to help her dress would only add to her worry that the Gunns would see her as a nuisance.
She pulled the underdress on and worked the lace through the eyelets that ran up the front. There was boning quilted into the top for support, and once she tugged the lace tight, her breasts were secure. The overdress was nearly the same and had sleeves already tied in place. A few shrugs and it came up over her shoulders. Weeks on the trail had taken a few pounds off her, leaving the garment loose. Brenda tugged on the lace to tighten it up before knotting it and tucking the ends.
She looked around, but her boots were nowhere in sight. Alba had taken them away in the bathhouse because they were caked in mud and needed to be waxed again to make them waterproof. The door was still shut, and she’d fallen asleep soon after Bothan had left her.
“Well…no time for regrets,” she muttered as she walked toward the door and opened it. Sitting on the floor just beyond the door were her boots. Someone had cleaned them and left them there to avoid disturbing her.
Brenda sat on the top step to put them on. Below her, she could hear the rest of the inhabitants of the tower. Just muffled sounds as the Gunns worked. A faint scent of fresh bread in the air made her belly rumble.
Once she’d knotted her second boot, Brenda rose and descended. Her hunger wasn’t the most pressing need, though. She discovered she was nervous.
The hall was empty, the large doors wide open to let in the fresh air. Brenda followed the scent of bread to the kitchens where five women worked at the long tables. A large side of beef was already fitted to one of the huge bars in the hearth. A boy was slowly turning it as another boy sat on a stool nearby watching an hourglass marked with quarters that would tell him when to change places with the other boy.
“Morning, Mistress,” Alba called out in her age-weathered voice.
Brenda turned and lowered herself. “My apologies for sleeping so late.”
Alba’s lips twitched and curved into a smile. She reached for a wooden plate sitting on the table near her and pulled the linen cover from it before setting it in front of a stool.
“Travel can drain the body of strength,” Alba remarked as she turned and filled a mug with water. “Sit.”
Brenda sank onto the stool and pulled the linen square across her lap before digging into the food on the plate. On the road, there had been no opportunity for them to enjoy bread. Brenda took her time eating the chunk Alba had provided for her, even drizzling some honey on it.
But her belly had tightened up during her travels as well, and she found herself full before the plate was clean. Alba sent her a raised eyebrow.
“The fare is most excellent,” Brenda assured Alba. “Ye have been too generous.”
“Yer belly will loosen with time,” Alba answered before she turned back to the table and the bread she’d been turning.
Brenda stood as well and tucked the square of linen into her sleeve. There was always work aplenty in spring. The women in the kitchens appeared to have the food preparation in good order, so Brenda left. The first thing to do was to get an idea of how the towers were constructed so she wouldn’t have to ask where things were.
She made her way across the great hall. The benches had been placed on top of the tables now that the meal was finished, and two women were sweeping the large expanse of the floor. Brenda continued around to a side doorway and found herself on the other side of the tower. Behind her was the second tower, and the sound of the river was louder. In the distance, she could see a mill with a waterwheel turning. The sunlight glittered off the wet wood of the wheel as it turned.
As she got closer to the mill, Brenda could see the large stones that would grind grain. Right now, though, the stones were apart as two men looked at the wheel. They allowed only a little water to turn it as they inspected it. They caught sight of her, one of them telling the other who she was, but the sound of the river carried their voices away from her hearing. They both reached up and tugged on their caps before returning their attention to the wheel.
“Morning, Mistress.” Brenda turned to discover Maddox emerging from one of the exits from the tower. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap, but his eyes held a far more determined look. He stopped just a few paces shy of her and planted his feet wide. “There are important matters for ye to attend to inside the tower, Mistress.”
Maddox wasn’t planning on being ignored. Brenda took in the man’s stance and expression. Around them, some of the Gunn retainers had stopped what they were doing to watch. So newly out of bonds, she felt the scrutiny keenly.
“I understand ye very well, Captain,” Brenda replied.
Forcing herself to turn around was another matter, though. Brenda sealed herself against the desire to rebel. She’d learned long ago to choose the battles she engaged in wisely, doing so with an eye to whether she could win. Here in the courtyard, with the Gunn retainers all around her, well, it was a fight she wouldn’t get the upper side of.
But once she was facing the entrance to the tower, she caught sight of Leif. The man gave a nod, and Brenda knew without a doubt it was for Maddox. Leif shifted his attention to her and stepped back out of the doorway so she might pass through it.
Caged.
She should have expected as much.
But the truth was she was more disappointed than ever.
* * *
“Are ye truly hiding, Brenda?”
Looking up from the account books she’d been working on all day was something Brenda longed to do. She’d been tempted when she heard Alba ring the bells to call everyone into the hall for supper.
Bothan wasn’t going to let her ignore him, though. He blew out his breath and moved into the small chamber she’d sat in all day. Looking up became a necessity because she was so intensely aware of him. Somehow, he managed to make the chamber seem smaller just by being inside it with her.
“I am precisely where yer men put me,” Brenda informed Bothan. She took a moment to place the quill she’d been working with into a small pottery jar to keep the tip from being ruined and the wood of the desk from stains.
Bothan flattened his hands on either side of the open account book. She’d miscalculated gravely by remaining behind the desk. There was a solid wall to her back, and the only doorway was behind Bothan now.
“I told ye plainly,” Bothan stated firmly, “if ye want to run, do so. I will enjoy tracking ye down.”
“Yer men seem to have a different opinion on the matter,” she replied as she stood. Brenda kept her expression serene as she circled around the desk, intent on slipping past him. “For the moment I stepped outside the tower this morning, Maddox made it clear I was not allowed to.”
Brenda went to pass him, but he reached out and caught her wrist. The connection was like a thunderclap right above her head, so jarring every sense she had was jolted.
“I did not order him to do so.” Bothan’s tone was low.
She searched his face and found only sincerity in his eyes. Brenda drew in a breath and felt the tension that had knotted between her shoulders loosen.
A moment later Bothan tugged her forward. She gasped but collided with his hard body. He released her wrist and encircled her waist with his arm, binding her securely to his frame while he captured the back of her head with his opposite hand.
“I would rather deal with ye meself,” he informed her in a husky tone. “This is a matter between us.”
He was going to kiss her.
Brenda knew his intent by the flash of fire in his eyes. She flattened her hands on his mouth, surprising him. It gave her a moment to twist free.
But he was moving with her, intercepting her and placing his body in her path once more. She put her hands against his chest, intending to push him back, but he was moving forward, tilting his head to the side to place his mouth against hers. The contact destroyed every thought in her mind.
There was only him and the rush of pleasure his kiss unleashed in her. The hand on the back of her head held her in place so he could command the moment. He kissed her hard but not brutally, giving her a taste of his strength while refraining from bruising her mouth.
The effect was catastrophic to her senses. She felt a response gathering inside her, one she was powerless to keep from him. Kissing him back became a necessity. She rose onto her toes so she might prove to him just how much she wanted to be his equal. His chest rumbled with a male sound of approval.
It was like setting fire to dry straw.
The bright flash of light drew her closer. Placing her hands on him was the only thought in her mind, feeling him more necessary than taking her next breath. She slid her hands up his chest, smoothing over his shoulders.
A moment later, Bothan set her back from him.
It felt like they’d been ripped apart. Brenda heard her own raspy breath and the little click her teeth made when she snapped her jaw shut. He’d cupped her shoulders and straightened his arms. She caught a flash of frustration in his eyes as he held her at arms’ length.
“If Maddox frightens ye, lass, I suppose ye’ll just have to mind him,” Bothan said.
Brenda’s jaw dropped open. Bothan winked at her as he flashed one of his cocky grins at her.
“As I explained to ye when ye asked if I had a mistress,” Bothan continued, “here on Gunn land, we do nae have time to squander on niceties. I assure ye, if ye want to test me, I will handle ye very personally, no’ set me men to minding ye because I fear ye’ll take yer dowry back to yer family. I came for ye, and I will have ye, Brenda.”
He released her shoulders and took a step back, the promise in his eyes just as solid as his hold had been. “Yet the matter is between us.”
He turned and gave her a view of the longer pleats that made up the back of his kilt as he left. It was a stupid thing to notice, and yet she stood there, unable to form a decent thought while he left.
His ultimatum hung in the air, though.
Ye mean his challenge…
Was it possible Bothan understood her better than anyone else? She found herself contemplating that possibility long after he’d left. Hamell Campbell would have set his men to guarding her, of that she was certain.
Bothan had just thrown open the doors. It wasn’t that he’d dared her to go through them, no, he’d made her a solid promise to deal with her himself.
Brenda narrowed her eyes. She just might take him up on the offer.
She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit she was curious as to just what the outcome might be.
Aye, and ye’d be lying if ye did no’ admit how much a part of ye wants to lose the battle…
Brenda let out a groan born from pure frustration. The sound bounced around the room before coming right back at her.
She was cursed.
* * *
“Yet the matter is between us.”
Brenda heard Bothan’s words rise from her memory the next night when Alba rang the supper bell.
Another day with the books had her back aching and her neck knotted. But she was pleased with the way the desk was looking. When she’d arrived, there had been stacks of letters and papers that needed to be entered into the account books. Well into spring, it had all been left in favor of getting the crops into the ground. The large window in one side of the room allowed the scent of newly turned soil in to freshen the air.
“Yet the matter is between us.”
Brenda shook off her thoughts and stood. She pushed the piece of rope covered in wax into the top of the small pottery inkwell before moving out from behind the desk.
She didn’t need Bothan to come looking for her again. If the man wanted to deal with her personally, she’d be wise to make sure they had plenty of witnesses.
And she was hungry, too.
The moment she stepped into the passageway, the scent of bread filled her senses. Going without something for weeks on end certainly made it more enticing. Brenda felt her lips curve into a smile as she followed the scent toward the hall. As she got closer, the crowd of men and women talking filtered out from where the Gunn clan was gathering for their meal. There was laughter and excitement in the voices.
The sound of life.
She paused in the archway into the hall. Retainers were hurrying to take the remaining seats on the benches. Younger boys were sent back to wash if they made the mistake of arriving at the table with dirty hands and faces. They took off, sprinting for the open doors for fear of missing the beginning of the meal and having to make do with whatever was left.
The women were standing along the side of the hall, their hands already full of platters. It seemed an unruly mass of conversation, but someone cleared their throat and the noise died away almost in the same instant, proving everyone was paying attention.
A man rose at the back of the hall. His clothing didn’t set him apart, and the only notable difference was a strip of silk hung around his neck. It was placed carefully, though, displaying the embroidered symbols of faith on it. The Gunn retainers pulled their caps off as the hall became silent and still.
“Heavenly Father…” the priest began the evening blessing.
Brenda bowed her head, listening to the prayer. It wasn’t very long, just enough to get the important points covered. The priest finished, and there was a shuffling as everyone made the sign of the cross over themselves. Brenda opened her eyes to see the man pulling a round of bread in half. He handed one section to Bothan.
Bothan ripped the section of bread apart, but he looked across the hall to where she was still lingering in the archway, proving he was very much aware of her arrival. Maddox was waiting for part of the bread, but Bothan lifted one hunk up toward her.
She was instantly the center of attention. Brenda clenched her fingers into fists to keep from raising her hand to her face to smooth her hair back. She did not look her best, and it had been a long time since she’d been so conscious of the fact.
“Yer place is beside me…wife,” Bothan said.
The stillness in the hall ensured his voice carried to every corner of the room. The Gunn retainers began to nod in agreement, slapping the top of the table. Bothan remained holding the bread out. Alba had been standing beside him, ready to take the bread to be passed down the line of senior women in the hall. A symbolic representation of unity being the true strength of the clan.
Alba stepped back a pace, clearing a spot for Brenda.
It was a challenge.
Or perhaps a promise.
She might leave, but Bothan would follow her. Brenda didn’t doubt him for a moment. But what had her moving forward wasn’t fear of what he’d do; no, she picked her feet up because he’d earned the respect of his clan. Unlike many of the other clans in the Highlands, the Gunns elected their chiefs.
Brenda heard her own steps for the first few steps, and then the Gunn retainers were drowning out the sound with hard blows to the top of the tables they sat at. It rose as she closed the distance until the dishes on the tables were rattling because they were bouncing up with every strike, like a drum line announcing her arrive to the clan.
A cheer went up as she took the bread. Without a doubt, it was one of the most honest moments in her life. No fanfare or elaborate dress could have matched the sincerity of the Gunn retainers welcoming her just as she was.
* * *
“Ye understand.” Bothan announced his arrival with his words.
Brenda looked up from the knot in her hair she’d been intent on combing out. She was sitting on a simple stool, her hairpins lying on the surface of a small table set against the wall of the bedchamber for her to use as a vanity. A small addition to the sparseness of the furnishings of the bedchamber but a sure sign of the welcome Alba and her staff meant to give Brenda.
“Understand what?” Brenda asked for clarification. She lifted the comb and set the teeth into her unbound hair, drawing it down toward the ends.
Bothan’s lips twitched. “Ye understand the nature of the Gunns. There is no high ground or laird’s table. No ceremony for the sake of having people give attention to anyone who takes it into their mind to think they are above others.”
“But there is sincerity, which is far more valuable,” Brenda finished for him. “Yer home is a fine one, Bothan.”
The comb caught the snarl in her hair. Brenda eased it from the strands as Bothan’s attention shifted to her hair.
“I am trying to make it so,” Bothan told her as he came closer. “The last chief was a disgrace to the Gunn name. Sided with Bothwell and Mary Stuart in an attempt to take the King off the throne.”
Sitting on the stool became impossible. Brenda set the comb down and stood. Bothan went still, watching her to see where she’d go.
“Dougal MacPherson killed him, as I recall,” Brenda replied. “At Sutherland Castle.”
Bothan nodded. “Me men elected me because Robert had no son.”
“I doubt they would have voted for his offspring,” Brenda replied.
Bothan inclined his head. “Aye, life here is no’ about who is wearing a crown down in Edinburgh.”
“But Sutherland is yer overlord,” Brenda said as she realized she didn’t care to recall the details Hamell Campbell had presented. “Ye were elected because anyone the earl associated with yer predecessor would be someone who might bring difficulties to the Gunns.”
Brenda had pushed the topic to the back of her mind while they traveled, but Hamell Campbell was a large problem. She felt like the walls were suddenly pressing in on her.
“Hamell may have gone to Sutherland and woven a tale the earl thought sounded fair enough,” Bothan answered as he stepped closer. “Opposed to seeing ye wed to an Englishman, that is. Now that ye are me wife, Sutherland will rethink the matter.”
Brenda locked gazes with Bothan. Something shifted inside her. A new sensation. The need to shield him from the repercussions was strong. “Yer people are fine, Bothan, and ye do nae need the trouble that might come with me staying here. Hamell has buried another wife to have what comes with me. Do not be foolish. A wedding conducted in England will hardly satisfy him if his newly wed wife wasn’t an obstacle. Hamell is not an honorable man.”
She expected him to be frustrated by her comment. For she certainly was. Instead his lips curved up into a grin. He pointed at her.
“Ye are trying to protect me,” he declared softly. “The Gunns are a good people, and ye will be a worthy mistress for them.”
She shifted to the side, taking a step away from him as she lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Ye think I am heartless? That I would receive kindness from yer people and yet stand idle in the face of knowing me presence here might bring harm to them?”
Bothan was watching her in that way he had that made her ultra-aware of him. With him so focused on her, she found it impossible to stand still. He watched her, following her with a slow pace that gave her time to notice how her heart had accelerated.
“Ye are no’ unmoved by me, Brenda.” He stepped after her.
Maintaining eye contact was difficult. Brenda looked away as she moved, and then she felt like she’d made a grave error in not keeping him in her sights, so she looked back to find him closer than she’d realized. She gasped, feeling her muscles tense as she prepared to jump away from him.
Bothan folded his arms around her, binding her against his body as the warm scent of his skin filled her senses.
“Invite me into yer bed,” he whispered.
Brenda didn’t lift her chin. He’d kiss her if she did. Time decided to crawl by so slowly she felt trapped in each moment because they lasted so long. Bubbles of time where she was keenly aware of the way Bothan felt.
She liked it too much.
Somehow, she’d never realized how good it felt to be pressed against the hard body of a man. The sensation flooding her was pure pleasure.
“Sutherland will no’ be dissolving our union if ye are with child, lass,” Bothan said.
Brenda lifted her chin, locking gazes with him. The need to protest died on her lips. She really wasn’t certain why, only that her feelings were a tangled mess she had no ability to straighten out.
A child…
Bothan smoothed his hand up her spine, sending little tremors of delight through her. It was a soft, sure motion of his hand that ended when he threaded his fingers through her unbound hair. He lifted a section of it up, combing through it to the ends.
“Ye are stunning,” he praised her.
She’d been coveted before for her beauty.
But the way Bothan looked at her was different. For the first time, she felt beautiful instead of like a prized possession.
Bothan returned his hand to her nape, his fingers gently working at the knots he discovered there.
“I told ye, if it was in me mind to force the matter between us, I’d have consummated the wedding at court,” Bothan said. “Ye will call me husband by yer own choice.”
He let out a harsh breath before releasing her. Brenda caught a flash of frustration in his eyes before he moved back across the chamber. He paused at the door and turned to look at her.
“I’ll be waiting, Brenda.”
Brenda ended up dropping onto the stool again, looking between the closed door and the bed. So many days traveling should have seen her hurrying to enjoy the comfort of the bed. But now, all she noticed was how empty it would be without Bothan in it with her.
* * *
Some of his men snored.
Bothan found himself staring at the ceiling of the great hall and grinding his teeth. Most of his retainers were rolled in their plaids and sleeping around him. He’d spent plenty of time with them on the road, but tonight was the first time he’d contemplated smothering some of them.
“Chief.” Maddox sat up beside him with a disgruntled look on his face. “We’ve spent our share of sleepless nights together, but tonight I swear I’m close to murdering ye.”
There were a couple of chuckles around them, proving more than one man was still awake.
“I am no’ snoring,” Bothan said to defend himself.
“No.” Maddox reached out and hit him on the shoulder. “Ye’re just shifting about like a bear trying to get comfortable for the winter.”
“I’ll be happy to help carry ye back to yer cave where ye and yer wife can settle matters while the rest of us sleep,” another man added.
Bothan started to sit up. Maddox punched him on the shoulder and sent him back down to the floor. Or at least to where Bothan caught himself on his elbows, which sent a jolt of pain up his arms from the hard impact.
“Do nae waste yer breath arguing,” Maddox said. “Every man here knows what is keeping ye awake.”
There were several grumbles around him as his men proved they were very much awake. Bothan grunted but kept his jaw shut. There were few lights still burning in the hall, but even the expense of using candles through the night wouldn’t keep the men of his clan from allowing themselves to be taken by surprise.
Bothan sat up, looking across the rows of plaid-wrapped bodies. Near the passageway that led to the kitchens, he could make out the shapes of couples. For the unwed or newly married members of his clan, sleeping in the hall was a means of being frugal. It was far from private, but he suddenly understood that just lying next to the woman of his choice was something to long for.
“What are ye waiting for?” Maddox asked.
His captain used a low tone. Bothan took a moment to decide if Maddox had truly spoken or if Bothan’s own thoughts were getting the better of him. Maddox opened his eyes, proving he’d spoken.
“Ye knew full well Brenda was no’ going to be a simple woman to bridle. Keep giving her so much rein, and yer beard will be gray by the time ye claim her,” Maddox said before closing his eyes and rolling over to sleep.
There were a couple of chuckles at Bothan’s expense before the hall went silent again. He settled back down. Not to sleep, though. No, his mind was full, but he wasn’t frustrated by the thoughts.
Maddox was correct.
It was time to craft the next steps in his campaign.
* * *
Spring brought challenges along with new life.
Brenda heard the women shouting at first light. The window beside the bed was open, allowing the ruckus into the chamber. She flung off the bedding and went to the window. Below was the yard. Something was happening at the far side of it.
Brenda hurried to dress and ran down the steps while still braiding her hair. The day was yet only half lit, but a good number of the Gunn retainers were up in response. By the time Brenda made it to the source of the shouting, sweat was trickling down her back in spite of the mild temperature of early morning. The mist was just starting to burn off. All around them were wispy traces of it, and the mountaintops were still shrouded.
“That’s eight hens and both the cocks,” a woman declared.
At the far end of the yard was an area for the chickens. Placed inside the stone fence that enclosed the yard, it should have been a safe place for the birds to roost. The scene being illuminated by morning light proved otherwise. The four dozen nesting boxes showed signs of attack. Several of them were torn clean open, feathers sticking to the half-dried blood smeared on the sides of the wood. Half of the nest boxes were made of stone, and the hens were poking their heads out as they shrieked.
“Wolves,” Leif offered in explanation.
“Aye,” Bothan agreed from beyond the fence line.
Brenda moved through the opening to find her husband kneeling down and looking at fresh tracks.
“They’ll be back, too,” Leif said. “Now that they know where to find an easy meal.”
Isla was gathering the dead hens in her apron. “Terrible waste of eggs.” She turned to carry them back toward the kitchens for cooking.
The women joined Isla while the men clustered around Bothan. Maddox was pointing into the distance where the edge of the forest began, explaining where to search for the wolves. Bothan looked back, sensing her attention on him. Brenda felt her cheeks heating as his men turned to see what had distracted their chief.
She whirled around, hearing their chuckles follow her back toward the tower.
Her cheeks were stinging. Brenda hurried back up to the chamber she’d slept in to hide. But once the doors were closed, she was alone with the heat turning her cheeks scarlet.
“Running, Brenda?”
Brenda gasped, spinning around to face the door so fast her skirts flared up. Bothan offered her a cocky grin as he pointed at her.
“Blushing too,” he remarked in a tone rich with enjoyment. “Dare I think ye are worried about me going out to hunt the wolves?”
The hunt was a far safer topic than her blushing. Brenda nodded and looked away. “Wolves are dangerous. I’d be hard-hearted if I did not spare a thought for yer health while ye pit yerself against them.”
She’d made a tactical error in looking away from him. Bothan took full advantage of it by closing the distance between them. As she finished talking, he’d made it to her side, grasping a handful of her skirts to secure her in place while he cupped her chin and raised her face so their gazes met.
“I thought ye wanted me to believe ye hard-hearted, Brenda,” he whispered.
“I do—”
He sealed her response beneath his lips, controlling her attempt to shift away by the grip he had on her skirts. The hand beneath her chin slid back along her jawline and into her hair. All the running had caused her hasty braid to unweave itself so only a few inches of loose braid remained. Bothan combed his fingers through the strands, pulling it all free. He lifted his mouth from hers and watched as her hair fell down in a curtain of crimson tresses that matched the color of her cheeks.
“Since ye want me to think ye hard-hearted, lass,” he said as he returned his gaze to hers, “I shall have to make certain I leave ye with a reason to rethink yer position.”
She gasped as a promise flashed through his eyes. An insane twist of anticipation went through her belly. Brenda was still sucking in her breath when Bothan scooped her off her feet. He turned and took her toward the bed.
“Bothan…ye must—”
“Me thoughts as well,” he said as the bed ropes creaked beneath their weight. He followed her down onto the bed, capturing her wrists and pinning them to the surface of the comforter. “I must no’ allow ye to rebuild yer walls while I am away.” His eyes glittered with promise. “So I’ll knock them down now.”
He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. She writhed, but the truth was pleasure made her shift beneath him. There was a flood of sensation hitting her. Remaining still was impossible. She needed to move, to release it all somehow.
And Bothan’s hard body offered her plenty of places to release her impulses.
He was only in his shirt, his doublet no doubt left behind when he heard the raised voices that morning. The ties at the neck were open too, affording her a chance to slip her hands beneath the fabric. She shivered as she came into contact with his bare skin and moaned in anticipation.
“I want to hear ye, Brenda.” Bothan lifted his head from hers. But there was only a fraction of space between them. She felt his breath on the surface of her wet lips. “Christ…I want to carry the memory of the sounds I wring from ye with me.”
His jaw tightened with some decision. Brenda felt her breath catch in response. A moment later he was shifting, moving down her body and off the edge of the bed.
She gasped and sat up. Bothan flipped her skirts up, proving he wasn’t leaving her.
“I’m going to make ye cry out, Brenda,” he promised her. “And I’m going to keep me head while ye lose yers.”
Bothan would never be satisfied with claiming her body. No, he wanted her unconditional surrender.
That’s why ye fear him…
The knowledge hit her as Bothan cupped her knees and pushed her thighs open. She tried to twist away, but he moved forward, giving her no time to escape. She felt the brush of his lips against her slit, and then there was nothing but an explosion of need.
She was helpless against it, unable to do anything but lift her hips to his mouth. Bothan didn’t leave her wanting, either. He pulled her slit wide open as he sucked on the center of her pleasure. The pressure sent a shaft of hot need through her. The sensation was so intense she gasped and clawed at the bedding beneath her.
“Aye,” he rasped out. “That’s what I want…to hear ye gasp…”
There was naught to do except comply with his demands. He returned to her slit, licking her from the opening to her passage to her little pearl once more. She was twisting with the need to climax, the need to be filled. He seemed to sense it too, fingering her opening with one digit before thrusting it deep inside her passage.
She let out a moan.
And heard him release a little sound of male satisfaction.
“As much as I enjoyed riding ye,” Bothan declared gruffly, “there is much to be said for no’ being distracted by me own desire.”
He withdrew his finger and pushed it back up into her again.
“I want to see ye lifting yer hips for me.” He repeated his motions as he spoke. “Like that, lass…ride me fingers…let me see ye seeking pleasure from me…”
Brenda wasn’t thinking about what he said, only reacting to his words. She wasn’t even sure who was speaking because what he said mirrored the cravings filling her.
It was happening too fast. Her heart was racing as she gasped for enough breath to sustain the frantic pace. The need for release was building up, increasing in intensity before Bothan leaned down and sucked her clitoris once more. Brenda cried out, feeling the moment of climax hit her. It was blinding and searing hot, ripping her into pieces as pleasure twisted in her belly for endless moments.
When it passed, she opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Her body was lax on the surface of the bed as Bothan smoothed his hand along the top of her bare thigh.
“Look at me, Brenda,” he ordered her.
He kept his voice low, and she realized that the window shutters were wide open, allowing conversation from the yard below to filter in.
Her eyes rounded as she looked at the window and heard the unmistakable sound of Bothan chuckling.
But it wasn’t a happy sort of sound; no, he was pleased with himself and enjoying the moment of victory. He stroked her thigh once more, driving home once again how much she liked his touch.
“Look at me,” he repeated.
She turned her head, catching a glimpse of the victory in his eyes.
“Aye,” Bothan said. “I am pleased.” He leaned down over her body so his face was hovering above her own once again. “But no’ because I crave making ye my conquest,” he informed her.
“Then what do ye want?” she asked.
His lips curved up as he gently stroked the back of her cheek with his fingers.
“I want yer passion,” he answered her softly. “Ye’ve locked it away because the only men ye’ve known were intent on ignoring yer needs so they might use ye to sate their own.”
He kissed her again. A long, slow motion of his lips against hers. He pressed her mouth open, demanding everything she had to give. And there wasn’t any way to resist. No, pleasure was glowing softly in her belly, and yet there was something deeper to be gained by the kiss. A different sort of need, to be wanted once passion had been satisfied.
Bothan seemed to know she needed it, kissing her long and hard before pushing back from her.
He caught her skirt and pulled it down to cover her legs as he stood.
“I’ll remember ye like this, and I will be back to finish what we’ve started,” he declared before he turned and left the chamber.
Brenda curled up on the bed. Tears eased from the corners of her eyes as she tried to make her mind reason out her feelings. But she was doomed to failure because her walls were precisely where Bothan had said he intended them to be.
Crushed and lying on the ground. Leaving her open to everything she’d tried so hard to deny herself.
* * *
Leif and Maddox were waiting for him in the stable. Bothan inclined his head as they both reached up to tug on the corner of their bonnets when he approached.
“We can handle tracking the wolves,” Maddox said slowly.
Bothan grabbed the saddle lying over the rail between the stalls and eyed his captain as he carried it to his stallion. “I can see to me own courtship without the pair of ye deciding I need to stop taking care of me duties in order to accomplish the matter.”
Maddox wasn’t deterred. He stroked his beard as he watched Bothan secure the saddle. “Brenda Grant is no’ an ordinary sort of bride.”
Bothan tugged a strap and made sure it wasn’t too tight across the belly of his horse. “Aye, she is no’.”
His captains were expecting more of an explanation. Bothan ignored them as he finished preparing for the hunt. But their stares wore on his patience. With his own desire still raging, he found his temper short.
“A woman such as Brenda,” Bothan exclaimed gruffly, “needs to run a bit between rides.”
Leif and Maddox stared at him for a long moment before both of them grinned, which earned them a scowl from Bothan. They weren’t intimidated in the least. Both of them whistled as they followed him from the stables.
“Ye’re both unwed,” Bothan informed them once they’d stopped to mount. “A fact I will be remembering.”
His threat didn’t make his men less inclined to grin at his expense. Not that Bothan had much attention to give to them once he mounted. His cock was still rock-hard with need, and sitting in the saddle sent pain through the engorged flesh. He tightened his jaw and set out, not waiting for his men.
The sooner he left, the faster he’d be back.