In the Warrior’s Bed (24 page)

It was sinfully luring, drawing her toward the chamber where she’d known her captor’s touch. Tonight she would enjoy her husband’s.

Cullen was indeed waiting for her, the chamber lit by beeswax candles, the sweet scent of summer honey drifting lightly in the air. There was also rosemary in the air. A very small ceramic pot sat carefully on the table with the dried herb boiling over a candle flame. It was the traditional herb for bridal nights, one that midwives swore increased fertility and passion.

Sybil and the maids following her did not enter the chamber. They remained in the hallway.

“Good night, Mistress Bronwyn.”

Bronwyn didn’t really hear Sybil. She was too distracted by the man waiting for her.

And Cullen was waiting for her.

He was magnificent. Her gaze being drawn to the wide shoulders and his towering height. He wore only his kilt and shirt, the doublet he’d taken to wearing in the cold weather hung up behind him. His bonnet was missing, too, leaving his hair free to softly curl. What drew her attention the most was the way he looked at her. The door closed softly behind her. The moment it thumped against the door frame, he came toward her. His body moving like the powerful animal he was. She’d never considered that watching a man might be as awe inspiring as watching a stallion, but it was.

His gaze roamed over her, lingering on her unbound hair. Reaching out, he fingered it, a soft smile decorating his lips. Without a word he’d managed to make her feel pretty. More beautiful than she ever had in her life. The expression on his face worth far more than her reflection in the mirror.

“Yer beautiful, Bronwyn, so much so, I’m afraid to touch ye for fear ye’ll disappear like a dream.”

Reaching up, she touched his forearm. He had his sleeves caught up near the shoulder. Her fingertips slid lightly along his warm skin, a tiny shiver racing up her arm from the contact.

He drew in a stiff breath.

“The chamber is very lovely.” And he had gone to some trouble on her behalf. That knowledge warmed her heart.

“Aye.” He frowned. “I planned to woo ye properly for a change but I dinna understand these sonnets.”

He picked up a small book from the tabletop, clearly vexed by the verse on the page. “One is lively and the next depressing.”

“Poets are often melancholy. Or so I have heard.” She reached for the book. Taking it from his hand, she closed it gently. “But it was very sweet of ye to fetch this here.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Bronwyn looked down at the table and laid the book on its polished top while trying to hide her amusement.

“Yer laughing at me.”

“Nay. I am not.” She walked away from him, but he followed. It was a teasing chase. She shied backward and he closed the gap every time.

“Aye, ye are. Yer eyes are sparkling.”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I am no laughing
at
ye.”

“But ye are laughing.” He said it triumphantly and hooked an arm around her. With one more step he closed the remaining distance between them. She gasped when their bodies connected. Sensation rippled down her length, unleashing every urge she’d restrained.

“It’s nae very kind of ye to be amused by my attempts to seduce ye.”

She reached up to stroke his cheek. He narrowed his eyes, enjoyment showing on his face. “I dinna mean to be unkind, but ye have never struck me as the sort of man who uses poetry.”

He snorted, a wicked gleam twinkling in his eyes. “Aye, that is correct, lass.”

He hefted her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

“I’m more of a hands-on sort of man. I love to wrap my fingers around the lass I’m trying to catch.” A soft smack landed on her bottom before he turned in a circle. A dizzy wave of excitement went through her while she grabbed his waist to steady herself.

“Put me down, ye brute.”

“Ah now, I’m getting to that part. But I do enjoy knowing that yer eager for me to place ye on yer back.” He crossed to the bed and tossed her onto it. Bronwyn came up in a tangle of skirts and hair. She scowled at him, her face turning scarlet because she was indeed on her back. It was infuriating but exciting at the same time. Cullen looked too pleased by far.

“Ye’ll ruin my new dress.”

“Not so.” He pushed the blue wool right up to her waist, baring her thighs in one swift motion. “I heard the women complimenting ye on the fine cloth ye wove. Trust me when I say that Sterling wool will hold up to a bit of rolling in the hay.”

“Ye’ll be the one ending up in the stocks if ye keep talking like that.” She had never heard such talk from a man. It was wicked, to be sure, but her clitoris began throbbing again, betraying how much she enjoyed his shocking behavior.

He chuckled at her, a wicked sound of intention that sent a shiver through her.

“It might be worth a bit of time in the stocks if I get to lay down with ye.” He pressed her thighs apart until they were spread wide. “Yer flesh is tempting me to indulge my lust.”

A shiver raced down her spine as the night air brushed against the folds of her flesh. With her skirts raised, she was completely exposed. Cullen hovered over her, using gentle strength to keep her thighs apart when she would have closed them. His attention lowered to her sex, hunger replacing the playful glint in his eyes.

“But I dinna think I’m alone in my desires.”

His fingers slid all the way along the inside of her thighs until they found her tender folds. A whimper crossed her lips when he stroked one fingertip across her clitoris. Pleasure speared up into her passage, her heart increasing its rate. He fingered her again, this time stroking her from clitoris to the opening of her passage. A soft cry left her lips as pleasure erupted inside her. Her eyes closed and her hands fisted in the bedding beneath her.

“Am I, sweet, passionate wife?”

She jerked back up when his mouth touched her sex. Her thighs closed around his head and she tried to push him away.

“Cullen!”

He raised his head to stare into her shocked eyes. Hard determination glittered in his. He pushed her legs wide once more.

He grinned at her. “Ah…have I discovered the way to tame ye, lass?” He pressed his thumb on her clitoris, rubbing it gently. Her breathing became hard, bolts of white-hot delight spearing through her.

“Ye like that, don’t ye?”

There was no way to hide that she did. A moan surfaced from her chest when he lowered his gaze to her spread body. Her eyes went wide but she couldn’t stop herself from watching. She felt his breath on her before the first touch of his lips.

She collapsed back onto the bed, incapable of controlling anything. Her body twitched, jerking in small motions while Cullen sucked her. Never had she even considered that her body could feel such intense pleasure. It burned through her, the flames eagerly licking every inch of her body. Need clawed at her and her passage ached to be filled. Cullen toyed with her clitoris, flicking his tongue across it over and over until sweat dotted her skin. Tension knotted tighter and tighter beneath his lips. She lifted her hips toward him, eager for more.

Abruptly, he raised his head. Bronwyn moaned. The sound wasn’t anything she recognized. It was deep and husky and completely wanton. She wanted him, and lying so submissively made her angry. Pushing up off the bed, she reached for him. He caught her, pulling her into a hard embrace.

She kissed him.

Holding onto the sides of his head, she angled hers so that their lips might meet. He didn’t claim her mouth but followed her, mimicking her motions, allowing her to lead the kiss. She licked his lower lip, urging him to open his mouth. He took command of the kiss the moment her tongue slipped inside his mouth. One hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers gently pulling her hair. Little twinges of pain moved over her scalp but somehow it only added to the heat of the moment. Part of her enjoyed feeling his strength.

But the fabric of his kilt and her skirts prevented her from gaining what she really craved. She groaned, trying to pull at the layers of clothing between them. Cullen chuckled at her frustration.

“Well now, rolling in the hay does take a wee bit of skill. It’s a bit awkward the first time. But I’m rather happy knowing that ye never learned the art of lifting yer skirt for a bit of afternoon pleasure.” He laid her back down on her back and raised his kilt. His cock stood at attention, stiff and swollen.

“Are ye now?” Wasn’t that just like a man to say. “Ye know the art rather well, telling me that ye have done some rolling, but wanted a pure bride.”

He shot her a hard look. “I wanted ye and it dinna stay my course to hear that ye were considered impure. Besides, I dinna know what is wrong with a few spring trysts. It’s a way to know if they will be able to enjoy the winter as man and wife.”

“I dinna want to know how ye know anything about rolling in the hay.” She sounded jealous and realized that she was. “And ye can just tell any woman that ye trysted with last spring that ye are wed now.”

He laughed at her, but reached for her hips and pulled her back onto his lap. This time his cock nudged the slippery folds of her sex, the round head pushing into her passage with ease. He gripped her hips, pulling her toward him until his length was buried inside her.

“Now, why is that, Bronwyn? Are ye jealous?”

“Maybe. I am yer wife.” She clasped her hands around his neck for balance. He lifted her until only the head of his cock was still stretching her passage. It was a sweet torment, waiting for him to lower her again.

He thrust upward at the same time that he lowered her. His cock penetrating in a smooth thrust that made her gasp. Pleasure filled her, the walls of her passage full and satisfied.

“Ah, well then, I suppose I shall have to do my rolling in the hay with ye from now on.”

He tried to sound playful, but need made his voice raspy. His hips thrust harder and faster as his face became drawn.

“I may hope.”

His eyes opened all the way and he stared at her. His hands held her in place, all motion stopping.

“Ye may depend upon it. I’m going to make sure ye yell loud enough with yer pleasure for half of Sterling to hear.”

He lifted her free and sat her away from him. “Now, if yer going to be the lass I’m rolling in the hay, we need to practice a wee bit to make sure we have it right.”

“Are ye daft?”

He winked at her. “I’m a lusty man that wants to dally with ye. Let us hope we don’t get caught.”

A giggle escaped her lips because she’d heard the maids talking about such things. Many a lass and lad rolled in the hay. And many a bride had a plump belly on her wedding day, too.

“What’s the matter, husband? Do ye fear the stocks?”

“I’d stand in them proudly next to ye, lass.”

She pouted at him. “Yer a brute. Aren’t ye supposed to suffer the chastisement while protecting my name?”

He winked. “But it would be yer yelling that would get us caught.” He reached out and fingered her sex, running his finger between the swollen folds to her clitoris. He rubbed the little nub and her breathing became rough. All hints of teasing left her. Need clawed at her, demanding she appease it.

Cullen slipped an arm beneath her hips and turned her over in one swift motion. She flopped onto her belly, pushing her hands against the bedding to rise. Cullen grasped her hips and lifted her bottom until she was poised on her knees.

“Ah, one of my favorite hay positions. Just right for keeping yer skirts out of the way.” He tossed her skirts up to her waist again, making sure to raise the tail of her chemise as well. The cool night air brushed against her bare bottom, sending a shiver through her.

A warm hand cupped one side of her bottom, smoothing over it before delivering a soft slap.

“Cullen…”

He rubbed the spot again, removing the sting. “Ah, yer a hungry one, are ye? No patience for playing, ye want yer maypole dance right now.”

“Cullen McJames.”

He clasped her hips and the folds of his kilt covered her bottom. His cock slid into her again, drawing a moan from her lips.

“What? Isn’t that what the maypole is about? Fertility?”

He thrust in a steady motion behind her, moving the bed with each steady forward thrust. She was losing track of the conversation, her body more than content to sink into the rising tide of pleasure.

“May Day is one of the best days to roll in the hay, Bronwyn. I can’t wait to take ye out to the festival and sneak ye off into the shade to fuck.”

“Um…yes…”

She didn’t care what he said, only that he kept up the hard thrusting behind her. Each time he pushed his length deep, her passage tightened around him, trying to milk his seed from him. Every time he withdrew, she nearly cried for his return. She was too needy, too hungry for the release he’d given her before. She wanted it and she wanted it now.

“Aye, yes is right. I want to hear ye say yes to me over and over.”

He flipped her back over, covering her before she finished bouncing. “Just as I want to see ye lying back with yer thighs open in welcome.” He thrust hard, burying his length in one quick motion. A groan left her lips and then another. Her spine arched and her eyes shut. He moved on her with increasing speed, his cock harder and larger than she remembered. It filled her completely, satisfying her need to be stretched again.

“Aye, lass, let it out. Yell for me.”

With her on her back, his cock slid along her clitoris with each stroke. There was no containing the pleasure inside her, there was too much. She sobbed with delight, clasping him with her thighs and lifting her hips to meet him. It took only a few more thrusts to burst the knot of tension he’d built deep in her belly. It sent intense pleasure racing through her. It drove the breath from her lungs but she dinna care. Cullen ground himself into her a few times more before his seed finally began to pump into her. He gripped her head, holding her in place while pleasure shook them both.

He rolled over onto his back, his breathing as labored as hers was. One hand clasped hers, their fingers interlacing while they panted.

“I meant to seduce ye.”