Highlander Brawn (3 page)

He growled, his teeth clamped on her nipple and he tugged. Without warning, her body shattered with such force of pleasure she bucked upward, her back arching and everything in her mind going numb from the pleasure he elicited. She cried out, shouting his name again and again.

Reed claimed with a demanding, carnal kiss. He possessed her with his mouth, his body pounding into hers, not allowing her to come down from her climax but shooting her into another one.

As her dripping-wet channel clenched around his cock, Reed shouted out her name, claiming her in erotic tones. He shuddered as he gave a few final powerful thrusts, and inside she felt the warmth of his seed as it shot deep within.

She’d planned to avoid her husband like the plague. And after such an earthmoving bedding, she’d have to elude him at all costs. He was sure to have her begging on her knees for more of his touch if she wasn’t careful.

Chapter Five

When Sorcha woke the following morning, the bed was cold and empty. And she thanked the heavens for that. After last night, she was unsure how to handle her husband, how she could look at him without thinking of the wicked things they’d done and how much she enjoyed them.

As soon as she stirred, a maid came in, quietly pouring clean water in a basin and setting out a fresh gown and chemise from her trunk, which must have arrived while she slept. The maid straightened the sheets and coverlet, looking pointedly at the white bed—not a spot of blood. Sorcha was sure to be damned in the eyes of the people for not coming to bed a virgin.

But she would not let that rattle her. She straightened her shoulders and dared the woman to say anything. The maid swallowed, curtseyed and just as silently as she’d come in, left.

She had no friends here. Not even her husband. As much as he got into the core of her, took possession of her mind with his prowess, she wasn’t sure she could trust him—and certainly not with her heart.

With a sigh of resignation, she dressed and then descended into the great hall in search of something to eat. A servant brought her a bowl of cold mush and a glass of warm ale, both of which turned her stomach. She pushed away the half-filled dishes and stood, ready to give herself a tour of the keep and grounds.

“My lady.” An elderly woman with thinning gray hair approached her. “My name is Beathag. I’m the housekeeper.”

Sorcha nodded. The woman had kind eyes and a soft mouth with creases around the edges. She must smile a lot. Sorcha took an instant liking to her. “I’m sure ye have done a great deal for your laird over the years, have ye not, Beathag?”

“Aye, my lady.” She studied her quizzically, perhaps wondering what it was Sorcha would ask of her.

The woman had naught to worry about. “Well then, ye shall keep doing it.” She leaned in close, whispering, “I’m not really mistress material, if ye will. I grew up with all brothers and learned to wield a sword instead of a broom. I’d prefer to keep it that way. And I’d not want to muddle the system ye have in place already.”

Beathag smiled widely and clasped her hands together. “If ye so say it, my lady, I am happy to oblige ye.”

Sorcha wiggled her brows. “I would be most grateful because if I were to take on the duties of a mistress, I fear the whole clan would suffer from it.”

“Not to worry.”

Sorcha left Beathag and went outside in search of her Campbell. She assumed he was training with his men in the fields. She enjoyed watching the men at home, always eager to learn a few new tricks. It would also give her a chance to find a secluded place she could practice her own weapons.

She heard them before she spotted them. The sounds of grunting, shouting, metal clanging, thuds as weapons and people hit the ground. She was both chilled and thrilled by the noises.

The men took up a vast field, their bodies slick with sweat. None wore their shirts, only plaids wrapped around their hips. The muscles on display were a sight to see, but her eyes quickly narrowed in on her husband as he wielded his sword above his head. He was mesmerizing. He exuded strength, the sinews bunching, curling, extending with each movement. Her body reacted immediately with lust.

Not good.

When he spotted her, he blew a shrill whistle through his lips and all his men stopped what they were doing within two seconds.

He stalked toward her, a scowl on his face that would cow even a seasoned warrior, but she was not afraid. In fact, she welcomed his anger.

She fingered the daggers at her hips and smiled at him.

Reed had the urge to throttle his wife. He’d never wanted to harm a woman as much. The idea kept crossing his mind whenever she was in his presence. That merely angered him more.

But what was more concerning was how looking at her, the way she tossed her head and smiled, had his cock hardening faster than a naked wench with her thighs spread wide. He wanted her. Again. And again.

Her gown outlined the shape of her figure, hips he’d grasped hard while sinking his cock deep inside her. The swell of her breasts was visible and he wanted to reach out and caress her silk flesh, yank down her gown and roll her nipples between his teeth and tongue.

How could she do this to him? He’d barely known her more than a day. And yet she’d completely captivated him, taken over his mind. He’d crawl through the marshes for another taste of her.

A tempting idea sparked in his mind. “Want a go, my lady?”

Her nose crinkled, as did her brow. A slight pink tint covered her cheeks. “Go at what?”

Reed had an idea of what she was thinking. Desire filled her eyes, and her blush deepened. He was going to have fun with that. “At me.” He watched in fascination as the column of her throat bobbed and her eyes widened.

“What?” she whispered.

Ah, the little minx had been thinking about him in bed. “A sword fight, lass. Why, what were ye thinking?”

Taking a step back, she shook her head, her blush deepening. “I had no idea what ye meant.” With the abrupt way she ended, he had a feeling she wanted to add some derogatory remark but stopped herself.

“Well? Do ye?” He lifted an abandoned sword from the ground and tossed it to her, surprised with the effortless speed at which she reached out with both hands to grasp the hilt.

Despite its weight, she caught it and held it at a perfect arch, her feet separating, one in front of the other. Her form was perfect.

He tilted his head to study her. “Ye’ve done this before.”

She winked, showing the saucier side that attracted him. “Ye’ll have to find out.”

A crowd gathered around them, the men eager to see what was unfolding. The laird had never fought a woman before and now he would take a sword to his wife. Plenty of whispers could be heard of how the lass held her sword in perfect formation. How she must have much strength to hold the weapon up as she did. All of what they said brought a smile of pride to Reed’s lips. His woman was a warrior.

“So be it.” He pulled the claymore from the scabbard on his back and held it, sharpened point toward her.

They circled, neither making a move for the space of several minutes. Their eyes latched on to one another, intense, studying each other’s moves.

Finally, Sorcha said, “Are ye afraid, husband?”

“Nay.”

“Then why have ye not made a move?”

“I could ask ye the same thing.”

She laughed, tilting her head back slightly. She was a goddess. The sight took his breath away—and in that moment she launched forward, her sword hitting his with a force he did not expect. He parried, striking back, but not with all of his power. This was a game meant to be fun, not to harm.

She twirled around in an impressive move and struck again. He stepped back with the power of her blow. The sound of metal clanging reverberated in the air. Some of the clan came from within the walls and fields to watch the laird and lady. The buzzing of his men’s chatter grew louder. A few women gasped.

Again he stepped forward, swirling her sword with his and trying to unhand her, but she kept her grip tight. Sorcha’s eyes twinkled with merriment. He realized then, she liked this kind of play. As he’d thought, she was a warrior at heart.

“Ye
have
done this often.”

“Perhaps,” she said as they continued to block and parry.

“May I ask why?”

Her eyes darkened, shuttering, and she moved with her sword but then twisted, hitting him on the back with her hilt.

He grunted, pain rippling through him.

“No, ye may not.” With that, she dropped the sword and stormed back toward the keep.

Reed sucked in the pain, forcing himself to deny it and stalk after her. He caught up to her quick enough, grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What the hell was that?”

“Ye wanted a fight, I gave it to ye.”

“’Twas not a fight to inflict pain, lass, but for a bit of fun.”

“I dinna like to have fun.”

He narrowed his eyes, leaned in close to her. “Not true.”

“Ye know nothing of it.”

He felt compelled to comfort her, to know what bothered her. “Tell me.”

Her gaze flicked around. “Not here.”

He followed her up to their chamber and closed the door quietly behind them. “Will ye tell me now?”

“Aye.” She sat heavily on the bed, her chest rising and falling with extra effort. Whatever it was she had to tell him obviously disturbed her. “Ye are not the first man I’ve…been with.”

“Aye.” He knew that already. Reed sat beside her and placed his hand awkwardly on hers, trying to offer some measure of comfort. The heat of her thigh pressed to his, distracting him a little, and he started to rub his thumb over her knuckles.

“He was killed. I couldna save him.” She glanced up at him then, her eyes watering. “Ever since that day, I have trained to fight so I can save those who come in harm’s way.”

“Och, lass. ’Twas not your duty to save the man.”

She shook her head. “I was right there, I could have.”

Reed felt her pain, the guilt. He’d suffered it many times on the battlefield and when they fought minor skirmishes with neighboring clans. He brushed her cheek, brushing some loose fiery tendrils back. “We canna save them all.”

“I know. But that doesna mean I canna be better prepared.”

“I will keep ye safe.” And he meant it. His heart constricted, seeing her pain.

“My safety is not what I worry about.”

“Whose then?”

She glanced away but he pulled her back gently by the chin to look at him. “Let the demons go, lass.” He kissed her, unable to do anything else to quell his desire for her and to make her forget her pain.

Reed laid her gently back on the bed, stroking her cheek and neck as his tongue delved between her lips to taste and savor her. She wrapped her arms around him, boldly rubbing her velvet tongue on his.

Soon their tender kiss turned to one of demanding, carnal need. Their tongues lashed, their teeth nibbled. Moans, gasps and soft whispers filled the air as they lamented of their need for each other, for the pleasure they would have.

Lifting her skirts, Reed skimmed the length of her leg lightly with his nails, feeling her flesh rise. She shivered, and beneath him spread her thighs wide so his hips were cradled between.

She was hot. He could feel the heat emanating from her cunny, warming his cock to a molten level. Blood rushed to his shaft, filling it, lengthening it. Pleasure tingled from the base of his spine to the tip of his erection. He wanted to bury himself within her. To pound away her pain. But first, he wanted to taste her.

Kneeling, Reed quickly divested her of her gown and chemise, staring down at the creamy perfection of her flesh. Rounded, full breasts and turgid, dusky-pink tips begged for his touch. He circled each nipple with his fingers, pinching them lightly then bending forward to take one in his mouth while still teasing the other.

Sorcha arched her spine, her nails raking down his sweaty back. She gripped his arse, tucking him firmly against the apex of her thighs as she tilted up, grinding against him. “I want ye, inside me,” she panted.

“Och, lass, I want the same…but I want to see your face awash in pleasure first.”

He kissed his way down her silky middle, dipping his tongue inside her bellybutton, nipping at her hip bone. Her breathing escalated, her whimpers and groans enticing him on. He spread her thighs wider, staring at the damp pink folds of her sex.

“Ye want me.” He said it partly as a fact and partly mesmerized by how much seeing her slick sex made his cock surge with lust.

“Aye. Please, Reed…”

He’d not heard her say his name before and he liked it. More than liked it. The way his name rolled off her tongue filled him with possessiveness. The desire for her to be his forever. And she was.

He slid his fingers over her nub of pleasure, downward, sinking deep inside her tight sheath.

“Yes!” she moaned, lifting her hips. “More.”

He bent lower, his breath on her slick flesh. “Say my name again, lass. Tell me how much ye want me.”

She shuddered beneath him, a flood of desire making her wetter, and her cunny clenched around his fingers. “I need ye, I want ye. Reed, please.” She panted each word and sucked her lower lip between her teeth.

He flicked his tongue out, swirling around her nub as he thrust his fingers deeper. She cried out, bucking beneath his ministrations. But he didn’t stop, simply increased his movements. He lapped at her folds, her swollen bud, while his fingers fucked her softly then harder. Reed reached for her breast, plucking her nipple as he sucked, licked and nibbled on her sensitive flesh.

Sorcha’s thighs clamped around his head, her pelvis rising and falling with rapid movements, matching the thrusts of his fingers.

“Oh God! Oh yes!” she cried. She gripped his head, jerking him more forcefully against her cunny.

He growled, knowing the vibration would further her pleasure. Her nails dug into his scalp. He could feel the beginning tremors of her orgasm as she tightened around him. He thrust harder, sank a third finger inside her, sucked hard at her pearl and pinched her nipple with force.