A Dangerous Love (44 page)

“Plenty for all!” she said, chortling as each of them reached for a breast, and soon the bed on which they lay was a tumbled mass of bedclothing and bodies.

The young prince had an insatiable appetite for female flesh, and a very large manhood with which to in
dulge that appetite. While Duncan held the woman firmly between his legs, his big hands playing with her large breasts, the prince slithered between Agnes’s plump thighs and began to forage between her nether lips with his practiced tongue.

Agnes was skilled at seduction, and she was skilled in the act of love, but she had never before entertained two men at once. Nor had she ever known such a lover as the young prince. She moaned her delight as the royal tongue drove her to ecstasy. Then the prince mounted her, and very shortly she was screaming her pleasure as his big manhood drove her almost mad with its skillful thrustings. And she had no time to recover herself, for as the prince rolled away from her, panting with his exertions, Duncan Armstrong was atop her, laboring fiercely.

“That’s my lass,” he whispered in her ear as he fucked her, and her nails raked down his long back. He pushed her legs over her head and plunged deeper, and she screamed her enjoyment as the prince watched, his own youthful libido roused once more to a fever pitch.

The older man howled with delight as his juices spewed forth, and once more the prince took his place.

Agnes Carr knew she had never been fucked so well or so enthusiastically in such a short period of time. The young prince atop her was tireless, it would seem. His thick and long cock plunged deeply again and again.

She could not help herself. Her nails raked the flesh of the royal back, and in response he fucked her harder until she was weeping her pleasure, and only then did he withdraw from her, kissing her tears and praising her for a fine lass. The trio rested for a brief time, and then Prince James was once again ready to enjoy Agnes Carr’s charms.

While the royal cock entertained itself in Agnes’s rear passage, Duncan Armstrong withdrew quietly, donning his garments swiftly and leaving the room. He returned to the hall and sought out his younger brother.

“We’re sleeping in the hall tonight,” he told Murdoc. “I gave the prince our bed. Agnes is with him. They are giving each other a very good time. He’ll not say the hospitality at Cleit was wanting,” Duncan said with a rich chuckle. “The lad is insatiable, but he’s kind with a woman. Agnes will owe us a debt after this night,” he said with a grin. “I doubt no man has ever fucked her quite so well as young Jamie Stewart, nor will any man equal him. This will be a night she long remembers.”

“I think Conal and Adair are about to leave the hall,”

Murdoc said. “Our sister-in-law seems not so angry now.” Then he smiled happily. “We’re a real family again, Duncan. There’s a lady of the keep as well as a lord, and soon we’ll have a wee nephew.”

“Or niece,” Duncan remarked. “Aye, it hasn’t been this good since Mam died.”

“She’d like Adair,” Murdoc said softly.

His eldest brother nodded in agreement.

Adair had left the high board to make certain there was enough wine and ale for the many guests still in the hall. Then, with a whispered word to the laird, she slipped away. Conal Bruce went to each of the trestles below the high board and thanked his guests for coming to their wedding. “There’s plenty of wine and ale left for all,” he said. “Enjoy yourselves!” he told each group of men and women remaining. Then he too departed the hall.

The high board had been long cleared, and the hired servants had departed back to the village over the hill.

Elsbeth locked the door down into the kitchens after Flora and her son had gone to the attic. Grizel was now sharing the bed spaces off the kitchens with Elsbeth, who was frankly grateful for the human company. The two women now slept, Elsbeth with the orange tomcat on the pillow by her head.

“Someone is in your brother’s chamber,” Adair told
her husband, “and it is not Duncan or Murdoc. There is a woman in there, and she is being used mightily. I heard the bedsprings creaking and the sounds of pleasure as I passed by.”

“It’s the prince, I suspect, with Agnes Carr,” Conal answered her.

“Your whore is in my house?” Adair said, wondering if she should be outraged.

“She isn’t my whore, and she never was. Agnes is a warm-blooded lass who is always glad to share herself with a like-minded lad,” the laird said. “Duncan knows the prince, though young, is a man in every way, and has a great appetite for women. Agnes was willing to aid the laws of hospitality. Prince James will remember Cleit as a hospitable keep, and it cannot hurt to please him. He will one day be king.”

“You are showing signs of ambition,
husband
,” Adair murmured.

“Not for myself, lass,” he replied, reaching out to touch her belly. “For him.”

“It could be a daughter I carry,” Adair reminded him.

“Nay, I have gotten a son on you, my honey love,” he told her.

“I cannot yet forgive you,” Adair said.

“But you are no longer angry?” he asked.

“I had lost my anger when I awoke this morning,” she replied. “It seemed rather futile and foolish in the face of reality to maintain such a choler. And I would have a peaceful house, Conal. Besides, you cannot help it that you are a fool.” Adair sighed.

“I suppose we must accept that,” he responded dryly.

“Aye, we must, or we will quarrel again, and it is not good for the bairn,” Adair murmured softly. She had removed her gown and was clad only in her chemise. Now, seated upon the bed, she undid her plait and began to brush her hair.

He took the brush from her and sat down. “Nay, honey love, this is my task.” The brush began to slick
through her tresses. “I love your hair,” he said softly. “It is so soft and so rich in color. One moment it is sable, and in another instant the light touches it and it has the blue sheen of a raven’s wing.” He took up a lock of her hair and pressed it to his lips. “It suits you,
wife
.”

A small shiver rippled down her spine. His voice, his words, excited her. It had been so long since they had shared themselves. Adair felt herself melting with the love she knew she had for him. But then she stiffened her spine. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t think he might wheedle her with sweet words when he would not say the three words she longed to hear from him.

“We must have a care of the bairn, Conal,” she said softly. “I have never been with child. I do not know what is permitted and what isn’t.”

“I’ll ask the village midwife tomorrow,” he told her as he drew off his own garments and laid them aside. “I will not let you deny me, Adair; nor will I let you deny yourself, my honey love. Our lust has always been very equal.” He stood up and put the brush away in her trunk. When he turned back she was tucked into their bed. He joined her, and they lay side by side, not speaking until Conal Bruce sat up, propping the pillows behind him. Then he pulled her so that she half lay between his long outspread legs. He drew her chemise up over her protest. “We will not couple until I know it is safe for us to do so,” he told her, “but I do not see why you and I cannot still enjoy each other in sundry other ways.” He began to fondle her breasts.

“Oh, please be gentle,” Adair begged him. “My breasts are very tender.”

“And sensitive, I see,” he murmured as her nipples grew tight and hard to his eye.

She shivered under his touch, feeling the stirrings of desire within her fertile body.

He continued to play with her breasts for some time, his warm breath against her ear. Then his hand moved to caress the beginnings of her belly.

“Conal,” she begged him, “please stop.”

“Why?” he taunted her, tweaking her nipples.

“Because I want you, you devil!” she admitted.

He smiled behind her head. “I do not know if I should pleasure a woman who cannot forgive me,” he whispered softly in her ear.

“Then I cannot pleasure you either,” she told him.

“Please, at least wait until we have spoken with the midwife.”

“You’re a hard woman, Adair Bruce,” he told her.

Adair giggled. She could not help it. “You are a hard man, my lord.
Very hard
.”

He laughed aloud. “It’s our wedding night.”

“There’s a bairn in my belly, Conal. We had our wedding night long ago,” she told him pertly. “Fetch my chemise. I am cold.”

He got out of their bed, his lust for her visible.
What
a waste of a randy cock,
he thought as he picked up her chemise and handed it to her. He donned his own chemise and poured himself a cup of wine, sitting by the warm hearth to drink it. When he finally returned to bed Adair was already asleep. He reached out and touched her face gently with a finger. She was so beautiful, and she loved him. He had to gain the courage to say those three words to her before their child was born.

Conal Bruce joined his wife, but his mind was yet active.

In the chamber next to his the next king of Scotland was enjoying himself with a woman. Aye, he would remember Cleit’s hospitality, but it would not be enough to wipe out the debt that the laird owed the prince for making his marriage to Adair possible. What would he ask? Conal Bruce knew he would have no choice but to repay the debt, and repay it with whatever was demanded. Would it endanger his small holding? His family? It mattered not. He finally fell into a troubled slumber.

*
*
*

In the morning the hall had been cleared of the last of the guests, many of whom had fallen asleep at the trestles, filled with too much wine and ale. Enough of his clansmen who served as men at arms had remained sober in order to protect the keep, and they virtually ran the last of the guests out. They sat eating their food sto-ically as the laird entered the hall. Adair was already there overseeing everything.

Prince James came into the hall. He was full of en-ergy, and smiled at everyone. “Good morning, cousin!”

he said cheerily to Adair, who waved him to the high board.

Patrick Hepburn, Duncan Armstrong, and Murdoc Bruce appeared, looking somewhat the worse for wear.

They had been up very late drinking and dicing.

“Sit down and get some food into you,” Adair ordered them.

“Perhaps a wee drop of the hair of the dog that bit us might help,” the Hepburn suggested as he lowered himself gingerly into a chair.

“Flora, fill their goblets,” the lady of the keep said as Grizel brought trenchers of oats and platters of food.

The Hepburn blanched at the sight of the platters, but bravely lifted the goblet to his lips, as did his companions.

The laird caught his wife’s eye and grinned. Adair grinned back.

“I am happy, my lord, to see that you enjoyed our hospitality,” she said.

“I will attempt not to die in your keep, madam,”

Patrick Hepburn told her.

“The prince enjoyed his evening as well,” Adair continued. “Did you not, Your Highness? I have heard that Agnes is a most accommodating lass.”

“She’s a braw girl, cousin,” the prince replied. “I shall be visiting her when I am once again in the vicinity.”

And he chuckled.

“You mean you had a wench, you young devil?” the
Hepburn said. He looked aggrieved. “You did not offer me a wench, madam. If I had had one I should not have drunk quite so much, and not had the aching head I have this morning. And worse, I lost a groat and three silver pennies dicing.”

“Alas, my lord, there was only one wench. We are a small keep,” Adair said sweetly, and her violet eyes were twinkling at the Hepburn as she spoke.

“I’m afraid I wore poor Aggie out,” the prince said.

“Send her home in the cart, Conal Bruce. She served her prince very well.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Adair told her husband. She left the hall and went upstairs to the bedchamber where she knew Agnes Carr would be lying. Opening the door, she saw the girl sprawled facedown and naked on the bed, her red hair awry.
Lucky wench,
Adair thought. Then she gently shook the girl’s shoulder. “Agnes, awake. You must go home now.”

Agnes Carr slowly lifted her head from the bed. “Am I still among the land of the living?” she groaned.

“Aye, you are,” Adair responded. “And the prince says he’ll be visiting you when he is next in the vicinity.”

Agnes Carr groaned again. “Never have I been

fucked so much in one night by one man,” she said.

“The laddie has a thirst that is unquenchable, and en-ergy that never flags.” She rolled over and, seeing it was Adair, Agnes gasped and grabbed at the coverlet in an attempt at modesty. “My lady!” She struggled to get to her feet, fell back onto the bed, and then Agnes Carr blushed for what was probably the first time in her life.

“The prince’s reputation precedes him,” Adair said with a small grin. “And ’tis said there isn’t a lass he’s fucked who ever had cause for complaint.”

Agnes managed to retain a sitting position now. “I can attest to that, my lady.”

“You have done my husband and me a goodly service by keeping young Jamie Stewart amused last night.

Come to the hall when you are ready and have something to eat. Conal will send you home in the cart.”

“Praise Jesu for that,” Agnes replied. “I do not think I can walk more than a few steps. And I haven’t been this sore since I was a virgin newly sprung.”

Adair laughed. “When you are ready,” she told the woman, and left her to recover herself. Adair returned to the hall. There she found her guests preparing to leave Cleit. The Hepburn’s clansmen had already gone to the stables to see to the horses. “My lords,” Adair said, “I thank you for coming, and wish you a safe journey.”

“You will probably see us sooner than later,” Patrick Hepburn told her, and he took her hand and kissed it.

“Are we forgiven then, madam?”

“In time, my lord,” Adair said, “but until I am able to forgive Conal I cannot forgive his companions in this deception.”

“Fair enough,” the Hepburn replied with a smile. He was a big, tall man with russet hair and warm brown eyes.