The Bargain (7 page)

But she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The feelings raging within her intensified with each down stroke. His breathing grew rough, his fingers curled around her hips.

Abruptly, he stood, bringing her with him. He fell to his knees on the rug, and eased her onto her back. Their bodies still joined, he rose above her, his arms bracing his weight. He looked down at where his body entered hers, and her gaze followed.

Heat swirled through her veins as she watched his thick, long cock, slick with her juices, slide within her, and retreat. His hips moved fluidly, in a rhythm that had her meeting his every thrust.

His gaze found hers, and she could tell he fought to refrain from spending within her before she met her completion. Reaching between their bodies, he stroked her bud with the pad of his thumb.

Every inch of her pulsed with pleasure, intensifying to that incredible pinnacle she'd discovered just last night. "Come for me, Aleysia," he said, the words so shockingly explicit, she felt her face flush with not just embarrassment but pleasure.

How wicked she had become in such a short time.

She climbed toward the stars, the pressure in her body building— pushing toward that unbelievable high. With a hard thrust he ground into her, giving her every inch of his delicious cock, holding her hips to keep her from moving away. Climaxing, her channel tightened around him, pulsing, throbbing, pulling him in deeper.

With a satisfied groan he came, his hot seed pouring inside her. He rolled to his side, bringing her along with him. For a few silent moments she fought to catch her breath, before becoming aware of her surroundings. The wooden beams above her, the soft rug beneath her, the crackling fire behind her, and the man beside her.

He still held her, his fingers brushing lazily along her spine, but he looked toward the flames, the fire casting half his face in shadow. Once again his brow furrowed.

Silence.

His braies were still down around his knees, her kirtle up about her hips. Embarrassed at their fevered coupling and how much she had enjoyed it, she pushed her skirts down over her legs.

Going up on her elbow, she placed a hand on his chest. "What ails you, Renaud?"

He glanced at her, his troubled gaze searching her face.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes, and no longer was she worried that he had found out about the healer and the sleeping draught. Somehow she knew what his tortured gaze meant.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "I received a summons from King William today."

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She sat up abruptly, and his hand fell away.

"He wants Adelstan brought to York."

She shook her head. "Nay."

"We are to leave in a fortnight."

The trembling began deep within her and drew outward until she shook like a leaf. "Nay, you cannot. William will have his head." She scrambled to her feet. "You promised!"

Worse than his silence was the simple fact he did not deny it. How could she have ever believed Renaud de Wulf would show mercy? What a fool she had been to trust him.

He would be leaving—taking Adelstan to certain death. She must get the draught. They must escape now, before it was too late. The thought of life without her brother was too painful... unthinkable. "You gave me your word, Renaud. You agreed to our bargain."

"And I have kept your brother safe, Aleysia."

"Aye, you did, but what now? You merely kept him alive so your king would have the privilege of killing him!"

He stood slowly, pulling his braies up and tying them. "I promised nothing."

He could not even look at her.

She shook her head, not believing her ears. She had given this monster her maidenhead, thinking she would buy them time, but he had no intention of giving her or Adelstan leniency. "I beg that you let him go. Tell William that he escaped."

Finally, he looked at her, and his eyes were full of regret. "I cannot do that, Aleysia."

She felt like her world had been ripped out from beneath her. "Why not?"

"He is my king, and I have given him my word."

"And what of your promise to me?"

His gaze shifted over her slowly. "You will stay at Braemere. I will speak to King William. Mayhap he will show mercy. In fact, I am prepared to ask for your hand."

"I would
never
marry a Norman!"

His gaze turned cold. "You would rather suffer the same fate as your brother than be my wife?"

She nodded and tears slipped down her cheeks. "Aye, I would." He frowned and reached for her.

She jumped away. "Do not touch me
ever
again! We had a bargain and you have failed to live up to your end. I ask that you release me now. Put me in the tower with my brother, for I will not live without him."

He stepped toward her and lifted her chin with strong fingers, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, his expression softer than moments before. "I am not prepared to let you go."

She took hold of his wrist. "Then let Adelstan go, Renaud. You have the power to release him. Let him escape to Scotland. Tell William what you must—that Adelstan is dead, but let my brother live."

His finger slipped down over her throat and the pulse beating wildly there. "Release him—so he can return with Laird MacMillan to demand your freedom? I cannot take that chance." He bent his head as though to kiss her, but she pulled away so fast, she nearly stumbled back into the chair where she had ridden him moments ago.

"I do not belong to you—nor do I want you."

The sides of his mouth slowly lifted in a cruel smile. "Oh but you do, Aleysia. You want me as badly as I want you."

"I hate you!"

His jaw tensed, the nerve working there. "You will be my woman, Aleysia. You would be wise to accept that."

"I am not your woman, nor will I ever be." She ignored the warning bells in her head and slapped his hand away. "I
will
marry Laird MacMillan."

With a flick of his wrist he pulled her against him. "You are my woman, not MacMillan's. Think you he would still want you, knowing that you came willingly to my bed?"

The words were as effective as a sharp slap to the face. "I did what I must for duty's sake. Little did I know you would not hold up your end of the bargain. Duncan will forgive me."

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

A blush raced up her cheeks but she forced herself to keep his gaze. "Duncan is a gentleman and he will have me still. He loves me— and I love him," she lied.

He flinched as though she'd struck him. "And what if you carry my babe? Would he still love you then?"

Her stomach rolled, for honestly she did not know the answer. In truth, she could already be carrying de Wulf s child. She had heard of women being ostracized from their villages because they'd given birth to a bastard child. "Duncan would raise the babe as his own."

"He will not have the opportunity," Renaud snarled through gritted teeth. "And he will not have you."

"I am not your property, bought and paid for. I am a woman who can make her own decisions and I choose to return to Scotland, to my betrothed."

His fingers gripped her arm tighter. "I thought you wanted to be imprisoned with your brother?"

A sudden knock at the door made her jump. In truth, she was thankful for the interruption. However, it appeared Renaud felt differently as he scowled at the door. "Go away!" he yelled.

"My lord, there is an urgent matter you need to attend to," Galeran said, his tone intent.

Cursing under his breath, Renaud released her before striding toward the door. He wrenched it open.

Galeran stood with a handful of men, all wearing full chain mail. "Laird MacMillan requests your presence." The vassal's gaze shifted to Aleysia. "He says to bring
his
woman."

Relief rushed over Aleysia in waves. Duncan was here, and he would bargain for their lives! Hope stirred within her.

Renaud's lethal gaze locked with hers. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye that made her mouth go dry. "You can wipe that smile from your face, Aleysia—for Laird MacMillan will be leaving Braemere
without
you."

CHAPTER 6

Duncan MacMillan was a big man. Tall and barrel-chested, with long red hair and a full beard, the Scot sat astride his horse, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. At least ten years Renaud's senior, he looked every bit the hot-blooded Scottish laird that he was.

How Renaud hated him.

Duncan is a gentleman and he will have me still. He loves me— and I love him.
Aleysia's words still burned in his ears. Did she truly love this man who was old enough to be her father? A man who would no doubt treat her like a child rather than an equal?

Their fevered lovemaking made him think not. Of course love and desire were two different things entirely. His own mother had sworn love and loyalty to his father, then left him for another. Women were devious creatures, not to be trusted.

"My lord, you know he will not leave Braemere without his woman."

Renaud glanced at Galeran, who rode beside him, along with his most trusted men-at-arms, out of the bailey, toward the field where the Scot and his army awaited. "Aleysia is
not
his woman, and he cannot have her."

Galeran's lips quirked. "I do believe she has gotten under your skin, my lord. I know it is not my place to say, but please be wary. Remember what your father always said."

Indeed. His father's words had been running through his mind from the moment Renaud had set eyes on Aleysia. The problem was, he could not purge the Saxon from his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. She even haunted his dreams. Just this morning while he met with his men, his thoughts kept drifting to the night spent in her arms. How sweet her touch had been, setting his blood on fire, making him thirst for more. And he had received more—just moments ago when she'd ridden him in the chair, her lovely green eyes full of passion and wonderment.

He'd had no inclination to make love to her again so soon, for he knew she must be sore. Yet when she'd come to him, sinking down on her knees, he had been unable to keep his hands to himself. God's truth, he did not think he would ever get enough of her.

"Laird MacMillan looks like he could run you clean through," Galeran remarked, bringing Renaud out of his thoughts and to the confrontation ahead.

Galeran did not lie. The laird glowered at him as he approached, a murderous gleam in his eye, but Renaud felt no fear. After all, his men lined the walls of the keep and bailey, ready for him to give the signal to attack. MacMillan and his small band of men would be slaughtered.

Renaud stopped a few yards shy of the Scottish laird and nodded in greeting.

"Baron de Wulf."

"Laird Duncan MacMillan." He puffed out his chest and lifted his chin. "I have come to claim my bride. I demand her release." He
demanded?

Renaud's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. How he itched to take the man's head off with a swipe of his blade. "Aleysia and Adelstan are prisoners of the crown, and therefore they will remain at Braemere."

The Scot flinched, his gaze shifting from Renaud, to the men behind him, and up along the palisade and battlements where archers stood shoulder to shoulder, bows extended and arrows notched. MacMillan's shoulders straightened, knowing he was outnumbered. Renaud could see reservation in the laird's dark eyes when their gazes locked once more. "Do what ye will with Adelstan. I have no doubt your king is thirsty for his blood... but return my betrothed to me."

Disbelief rocked Renaud. MacMillan did not look at all sorry to leave Adelstan to his fate. In truth, Renaud wondered if that wasn't relief he saw in the other man's eyes. Had the Scot been jealous of the close relationship the twins shared, and therefore wanted Adelstan gone? "Why would you leave Adelstan to his fate?"

"The lad can stay in your dungeon for all eternity. He has led his sister astray, making her more into a man than the young woman she is. Mayhap with him gone, Aleysia will embrace her feminine ways."

"Aleysia is as guilty as her brother."

"Guilty of what?" the Scot asked, his rage evident by the color that stained his cheeks.

"Attempted murder of a lord of the realm."

MacMillan's brows furrowed. "My betrothed would ne'er do something so foolish."

If only he knew what else
his betrothed
had done.

"It matters not what you believe, MacMillan. I assure you, however, that Aleysia is guilty of this crime. I have the scar to prove it."

"No doubt Aleysia did what was necessary to save her life."

Irritated that the man's words rang true and that Aleysia had made the bargain to save her brother under distress, Renaud unsheathed his sword. "I have already sent word to my king that we have captured Adelstan and his twin. King William will be expecting both. I cannot arrive with only one," he lied.

"He will marry her to another!" MacMillan yelled, his face turning bright red with anger.

Everything within Renaud rebelled at that statement. "Nay, he will not, for I will not allow it to happen. If Aleysia marries anyone, it will be me. Return to Scotland, MacMillan. Cawdor's twins are no longer your concern."

The laird's eyes glittered with hatred and vengeance.

"I will pay you handsomely if you return her to me." MacMillan motioned for one of his soldiers to come forward. The soldier held a chest, which he opened to display hundreds of gold coins.

Galeran glanced at Renaud. No doubt it was more money than the young man had ever seen. "I am not interested."

"What do ye have to gain by keeping Aleysia with ye?" Renaud lifted a brow. "Do you honestly need me to answer that question?"

The Scot's eyes narrowed and he drew his sword. All around them metal scraped against scabbards. "By God, if ye have dishonored my betrothed..."

"That is between Aleysia and myself."

MacMillan's fury shone bright in his dark expression. "I demand satisfaction, de Wulf."

"You cannot win, MacMillan. You know that. Take your gold and return to your beloved Highlands. Forget Aleysia."