The Maid of Lorne

“I know my duty, sir. I do not need your wine to ease my way in this.” If he did not like subterfuge, he would get none from her in this matter. The quicker done the better; once bedded and their vows sealed, she would finally see her brother and sister…if he kept his word. “I will not fight you.”

Lara handed him back the goblet and walked to the side of her bed. At first, she thought to climb on top. But, if they lay on the thick woolen covers, the sign needed to prove consummation would not be apparent. So she tugged the blankets out of the way and climbed on the fine linen sheets that covered her bed. Careful to gather her robe about her, she lay down and closed her eyes.

And she waited.

No sound filled the chamber except the crackling of the wood in the brazier. She was certain he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Still, he made no move or any sounds. Lara felt the tension grow inside of her. It was difficult to breathe and her skin tingled as the coolness of the room penetrated the thin material of the dressing gown she wore. She longed to pull the thick layer of blankets over her, but she did not.

And still she waited.

She was beautiful and intelligent and proud. She was loyal to her people and she was a skilled tactician in her own right. And she was his now.

And she was terrified.

Oh, his wife would never admit to it, but he could read that in her gaze and in her stance when he entered the room. It was obvious to him until she gathered her self-control and banished the fleeting glimpse of terror within those deep blue eyes. Then, to his surprise, she climbed onto the bed and placed herself like the sacrifice she was on the pristine white sheets. Although what he must do would embarrass her, he would rather not have to humiliate her before her people and the Bruce’s men.

He liked the challenges that she presented to him at every step of the way. Sebastien could not let them go unmet, but he learned more about her and the way her mind worked every time she resisted him and his orders.

Sebastien walked the few steps to the bed and gazed down at Lara. Her form was certainly pleasing to him. The dressing gown hid little from his eyes, and her position offered an enticing view of her lush breasts and shapely legs. Her blond hair spilled around her like waves, on the pillows and the bedcovers, tempting him to feel it and smell it. Bedding her would be no hardship to him. Catching a glimpse out the window at the sun as it moved toward the sea, he knew he had little time to dawdle at the task.

Sebastien untied his robe and let it drop to the floor. He sat next to her on the bed, forcing her to move.

“Sir, you may use the other side,” she squeaked as she looked through lowered lashes at him. “You are naked!”

“I will take the side nearest the door, Lara. Move now.”

He did laugh as she scrambled across the bed and positioned herself as far away from him as possible, all without looking directly at him. He granted her the reprieve of pulling up a sheet to cover them, and then he reached over and grabbed her hand.

“Now, wife, come closer.”

He slowly pulled her nearer to him until she lay next to him, her soft robe touching his leg. Sebastien reached down and untied the belt holding it together and tugged it free. She began to struggle as she realized his intent, but he paused.

“I intend no ravishment this evening, Lara. If you follow my lead, you may find the joy that exists in the joining of a man and a woman.”

“I have no choice in this, sir. You are stronger than I and can force your will on me whenever you choose to. You hold my family as prisoners and use my actions to decide their fates. And you say this is not taking me against my will?”

Her voice shook as she spoke the words. She was correct—she had no choice. But then, neither did he. He had never forced himself on any woman, and doing it now would surely make her his enemy. But, more important to him at this moment, he had never disobeyed an order from the Bruce. Preserving her dignity was one thing, but his orders were not for discussion.

“If you let me begin, I will give you as much choice in this as I can.”

She leaned away and looked at him, suspicion in every part of her expression and emanating from the depths of her ice-blue eyes.

“Then I choose to go down to dinner now.”

Sebastien laughed and pulled her into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and held her still. “There will be time for eating when we finish here.”

When she lifted her head to reply, he stopped her with a kiss. Sebastien slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her against him, allowing her to feel the reaction of his body to her nearness. He tasted her surprise, but continued to caress her back and bottom even as he deepened the kiss. With smooth movements, he spread her long hair out over them. Then he slipped her robe off her shoulders and pushed it away.

The shock of her heated skin against his made him harden even more. He knew that she felt him and his readiness and knew it for what it was. He slid his hands up and held her mouth on his, moving his tongue over her lips and then inside, touching the tip of hers. He imitated what the other part of his body would do soon, and was pleased at the sound of her breathlessness.

She had made no move of her own, so he guided her arms around his neck. Her breasts now pressed against his chest and her hips cradled his erection. He paused to let her become familiar with the feeling of body touching body. His skin was on fire and the need to touch her more intimately grew until he could no longer resist it.

Sebastien turned them over until she was on her back, and he stroked her face and then her neck. Lara tensed as his hands moved lower. Her breasts tingled and ached as his fingers glided over her skin, moving ever downward from her neck to her breasts and stomach and lower still.

She really wanted to push him off and make him stop, but part of her was enticed by his touch. And that part of her shamed the rest of her for her compliance in her own seduction. He lifted her chin until their gazes met, and then he stared with a frightening intensity at her as his touch became more and more insistent. When his hand reached the curls at the juncture of her thighs, her body reacted on its own, tightening and arching against his hand.

Heat and wetness poured from the aching place between her legs, but she wanted to beg him to remove his hand. As though he sensed her doubts, he leaned over her once more and kissed her until she nearly forgot the truth between them. She was the Maid of Lorne, eldest daughter of the MacDougall. She had duties to her clan and this seducer could not sway her from them.

Her resistance lasted but a moment, until his fingers slid into the place that ached for his touch. Her legs opened to him and he used his hand to tease and ready her for more. Throbbing waves pulsed throughout her body until she thought she might burst. The groan that escaped her seemed to encourage him, for he knelt between her thighs and used his mouth and hands to ensorcell her more.

When his mouth covered the taut tip of her breast, even as his hand moved inside her to touch someplace unknown to her, she did moan. He suckled on her harder and rubbed the engorged fullness between her legs faster until she did begin to scream. Covering her mouth with his and capturing her sounds, he placed himself over the throbbing place and pushed his hardness into her. A moment of stretching was followed by one of stinging and then she was simply filled with him.

He stopped and she forced her eyes to open and look at him. Sweat covered his brow and his upper lip and she could feel the moist weeping where he lay between her thighs.

“Wife,” he whispered as he began to move again, pushing in to stretch her with his fullness, and then withdrawing. Some new tension built within her; the need to arch against him and to scream out his name increased with every one of his thrusts. Lara fought not to surrender, but her body betrayed her. Under his expert control, he drew her moans and took her to the height of excitement. She felt him grow larger and harder and then, as his body tensed over her, she lost any ability to think at all. She could only feel—feel him filling her, feel herself thrumming with pleasure, feel her loss of control as she reached for what he offered. Matching his groan, she let go and followed where he led. He filled her with his seed and then they collapsed together, out of breath and covered in the sweat and smell of passion.

Minutes passed and neither spoke as their breathing returned to what it should be. Unsure now of what to do or say, Lara simply waited for him to move off her. It was the knock on her door that spurred him into action.

“Sebastien, ’tis time.” A man’s deep voice carried through the door to them.

Sebastien said nothing in response, but he rolled away from her and stood next to the bed. He tugged the ends of the top sheet from under the thick mattress and wiped himself off on it. Lara felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks at the sight of her blood on his member, but his next action completely surprised her.

He eased her legs apart and cleaned up the maiden’s blood and spent seed from between her thighs. He would not meet her gaze. Mayhap he was sparing her embarrassment of such a task? Once he finished wiping her, he held out her robe to her and helped her from the bed. Pulling his own robe back on, he tugged on the sheet until it came free, and carried it to the door of her chamber. She watched in horror as he opened the door halfway and handed the bloodied sheet to the man outside.

“Show this downstairs to those who must see it and then take it immediately to the Bruce. Tell him it is the Maid of Lorne’s blood, shed by me as he ordered.”

Shock and humiliation filled her even as she still felt the remnants of pleasure’s grip. She had not mattered to him. Even as he worked her body for the desired response, he had not been thinking of her, but of his king and his orders. As she betrayed her clan with her surrender to passion in his arms, he had used her to complete a mission from his king.

The gentleness he had shown her was simply a means to an end, and she had been beguiled by his soft words and touches. Pulling herself to stand, she wrapped her robe around her and picked up the belt from the ground where it lay. He stood near the door watching her, but he refused to meet her gaze. Finally, his words broke the silence.

“I will wait dinner for you in the hall. Get dressed and join me there.”

Then he was gone and the sound of the door closing released her from her reverie. Even as she collapsed on the floor and sobbed for all that had been lost that day, she vowed to herself that she would not fail her people again.

Chapter Three

Not one to prevaricate once he’d made a decision, Sebastien surprised himself by standing outside the bedchamber door and wondering if he’d handled things well enough. Orders, especially from his king, were orders, in spite of the fact that many times the Bruce allowed him to decide the method of implementation.

When innocents were involved, Sebastien preferred guile over bloodshed, seduction over force and negotiations over murder. When facing his enemies, there were no such alternatives. When dealing with women outside his bed, no rules or reason seemed to work.

Now, listening to the sobbing inside the chamber, Sebastien knew he would not be able to handle his wife in the same manner as he had handled everyone in his life before this day.

Leaning back against the cold stone wall, he remembered the moment of her surrender. In an instant he’d felt her resistance melt away and her stiff body soften under his hands and mouth. Knowing she was untried and nervous, he’d used his experience against her innocence, and bedded her without force. Consummating the marriage was no chore and had brought both of them pleasure, so why did it weigh on his mind so much now?

Shaking off this introspection, Sebastien nodded to the guard posted at the door and walked back toward the chamber that he was using on a temporary basis. A form separated from the shadows in the corner of the corridor and he tensed for a moment. Then he recognized the red-haired young woman as Lara’s maid.

“Sir,” she said, nodding her head in an unsuccessful attempt at obeisance. Anger flashed in her dark eyes as she met his gaze, and showed in the set of her chin. Anger?

“What is your name?” He stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him. He was a master at this game.

“Margaret,” she said. No “sir” this time.

Did she not realize the precarious position she was in? He held her life and the lives of everyone in this keep in his hands and could order her death at any moment. Then he noticed that her own hands, clasped tightly before her, trembled slightly. Good. She was worried.

“What do you want, Margaret?”

Before she could speak, an older woman reached her side and then moved to stand in front of her, as if to protect the maid from him. The sound of running followed, and a moment later, his man François rounded the corner and stopped before him.

“Your pardon, sir,” he began, out of breath from hurrying. “I did not realize this one had slipped from the hall.”

François took hold of Margaret’s arm and tugged her away, obviously intent on dragging her back to where Sebastien had ordered all of Lara’s people to stay. Another guard arrived, took hold of the other woman and awaited his orders.

“I would see my lady,” Margaret called out to him, struggling with François and slipping from his grasp. “Sir, I beg you…”

Somehow he knew the cost of her words, and he held up his hand to halt his men. The two women moved closer and Sebastien waited for their explanation.

“I would see my lady,” Margaret repeated.

“You will see her, girl. She will arrive in the hall for the meal in a short time.”

He had not thought that faces could pale as quickly as theirs did then. All of the color in their cheeks drained and they looked at each other in dread.

“Who are you and why are you here against my orders?” he asked, pointing at the older one.

“I am called Gara, sir.” She showed the wisdom of her age and bowed her head to him. “I served the MacDougalls as a healer, sir.” She raised her head and gazed at him, but did not challenge him as the maid had.

A healer? Now he saw their purpose and their mistake.

“The lady needs no healer, Gara. Go back and take this one with you to await Lara’s arrival in the hall.”

Margaret broke free at that moment and ran to him. Slamming her fists ineffectually against his chest, she cried out, “Is it not enough that you have shamed her before her people? Must you now add to her humiliation by forcing her to face them before her blood on that sheet is even dried?”

François reached her before she could say anything else, grabbed her by her hair and forced her to her knees on the floor. Sebastien looked at Gara and knew now what they thought had happened. Startled by Margaret’s words and her vehemence, he first thought to explain, but realized he owed them nothing. He was the victor here, not they.

“Release her,” he ordered. “Go back to the hall now.”

When the maid looked as though she would argue, Gara grabbed her arm and pulled her along the corridor, whispering harshly as they moved.

“I want no other MacDougalls in this tower, François. Not without my orders.”

His men bowed and retraced their path away from him. Alone once more, he turned back to his chamber and entered it. It took no more than a few minutes for him to ready himself for the meal—his only clean surcoat and mail replaced the robe, which had been a gift from the Bruce. A warrior did not have many wardrobe choices and his trunks had not yet caught up to him. His squire, Philippe, fretted over him and then followed him down the corridor and stairs, into the hall and up to the chair set in the middle of the table on the dais.

Sebastien noticed the silence in the room. Then he observed the divide among those present—the few remaining MacDougalls off to one side, restricted to sharing one long table, and his men spread out through the rest of the hall. The MacDougalls watched him with open suspicion, while his men toasted him and his accomplishments openly.

He did not expect it to be a comfortable first night in his newly conquered keep, but he had not anticipated the overt and palpable mood of anger and uncertainty. When a few of his soldiers called out bawdy comments about his bedding of the Maid of Lorne, and the rumbling began to bubble up among the crowd, he knew he had underestimated the situation, after all. From the belligerent expressions on the faces of the MacDougalls he knew that war would break out anew if he brought Lara here now.

Motioning to one of the guards, he gave new orders about visitations to his wife and sent the man off. Then, with a word to Philippe, he climbed the dais and sat at the table that had so recently hosted his enemy.

Security was his first concern, and seeing the keep and those in it under his firm control his first priority. It mattered not to him if some here thought he saved their lady some embarrassment. If it helped gain their compliance, all the better.

Guile over bloodshed.

Without the distraction of his wife in the hall, Sebastien finished his meal quickly and then called his commanders to make plans for holding Dunstaffnage and moving forward with the Bruce’s battle plans to take the west of Scotland.

Her nose itched.

Lara ignored it for as long as she could before opening her eyes to face this new day. Untangling the layers of her cloak from over her arms, she could finally reach up and rub the irritation away. It would not be so easy to rid herself and her clan of the invaders who now held her home and her siblings in their grasp.

Light poured in through the opening in the wall, and she tried to loosen muscles that were stiff from sitting rigidly through the night. After Margaret and Gara’s short but welcomed visit, she’d dragged her father’s chair to the farthest corner of the chamber and fallen asleep there.

She would not lie waiting for him in the bed where he had…they had…And she would not face him in any manner but fully dressed and ready to defend herself from anything else he’d planned. The necessary requirements for him to prove his claim had been made, and she did not intend to share his bed again.

From Margaret, Lara had discovered that her sister and brother were being held, apparently safely for the moment, in a chamber with several of the younger women who had remained in the keep. On Lord Sebastien’s orders, no one had been accosted or harmed.

Pushing off her cloak, Lara stretched out her arms and tried to release the tightness between her shoulders. Looking around the room, she saw so many reminders of her father.

No word of his end had reached her. Neither of the other women had news of it, nor had they heard Sebastien’s soldiers talk of it. Had he died in battle? Had it been at the Bruce’s hands, or at those of the man who had gone on to spill her blood, as well? A shudder racked her at the thought of her actions in the arms of this enemy. Pray God, her father had not learned of how she’d lost the castle and her honor to this man.

The growing noises in the corridor drew her from her thoughts, and she took up a position against the wall where the shadows hid her from anyone entering the room. The door opened with a bang as two men and then another two carried in large wooden chests and placed them along one wall.

The procession continued, with furniture and trunks being brought in and others being taken out, all without even a single man glancing in her direction. In a short time, the room had been transformed from her father’s into someone else’s. After the servants left, she peeked inside the storage boxes to see what kind of possessions Sebastien carried with him, and was surprised to find some of her own belongings in the unfamiliar chests.

Searching through to discover what was there, she never heard him enter.

“Fear not. Your belongings are all present.”

Lara stood and backed away from the trunks. The nobleman was gone; the warrior stood before her now in his battle armor, with his sword at his side and his helm under his arm.

“I did not accuse you of stealing my gowns,” she began. The thought had crossed her mind, but common sense held back any words of blame.

“This is our chamber now and your things have been brought here. I ordered your belongings searched for any weapons first, so that is the cause for the disarray.”

He pointed at the one nearest her, the one she’d been searching, and she realized that Margaret’s neat work was completely undone. Anger grew within Lara, but the cold look on his face and the set of his chin stopped her from protesting.

“Did he die at your hands?”

She blurted out the words before she had even thought of asking him. Lara clasped her hands together and prepared for the news.

“I would not kill a child,” he whispered through clenched teeth. His own hand moved to the hilt of his sword and grasped it. Now, both horror and anger shone from his eyes at the misunderstood accusation. “Your brother is safe, as is your sister. They will be brought to you soon.”

“No, no,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “I did not mean Malcolm. I was speaking of…I would know my father’s fate.” Lara held her breath, wondering if his words would give her any measure of comfort at all.

“Your father lives, Lara. Although he dishonored himself and all of you by breaking his truce, his life has been spared.”

She let out a shaky breath and shook her head. “I did not think the Bruce would let him live. I did not think any of us would survive if the Bruce took the Pass.”

“Ah, so you know of the battle then?” Sebastien took a few steps toward her and she realized she had erred in bringing up yesterday’s battle. “Did you know of your father’s plans to ambush our forces while still under the flag of truce?” Another step and she was forced to tilt her head back. “Did you know of his negotiations with Edward of England to hold this place in that king’s name?”

Lara swallowed and then swallowed again, the lump in her throat tightening and preventing her from speaking, which may have been a good thing since she did know all of those things. She knew almost everything about her father’s battle plans and his intention to rule in this area on behalf of the English king. Her father had no faith that the Bruce was rightful king of Scotland, or of his abilities to gather all of the clans under one banner.

This man would use that information against her and her family. She knew that from nothing more than the hardened gaze of his eyes.

“I am but a mere woman, sir,” she said, tilting her head in what she hoped was an appropriate manner when acquiescing.

Silence filled the space between them for a moment that stretched on and on, finally broken by his sarcastic laugh. Startled, she met his gaze now and found no humor there.

“Others may believe that tale, but they did not face you on the battlements. Believe this, lady—I will keep my back protected when it comes to dealing with you.”

Though secretly pleased at his words, she reacted to the insult within them. “As will I when dealing with you.”

He examined her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and then met her gaze. She thought his lips might twitch into a smile, but they turned downward into a grimace instead.

“Just so, lady.”

He stepped away now and she felt the moment of confrontation end. He switched his helm to his other hand and pointed at one of the trunks.

“The Bruce will be here shortly. Prepare yourself and come to the hall so that you can be presented to him.”

“I would rather not meet that…” There were so many ways she could describe the man Sebastien followed—worm, despoiler, murderer—that she could not choose which to say. Settling on a simple one, she pushed it through clenched teeth. “…bastard.”