In The Warrior’s Bed by Mary Wine

Chapter Seven

Cullen pulled her back against his body. A hard shudder shook her as her skin eagerly soaked up the warmth from him. His breath teased her ear while he folded his arm around her body, keeping her hand prisoner within his grasp.

“But I’ll confess that I’m happy to see ye dinna mind me.”

“Release me.” She sounded too breathless, too relieved. Shame choked her.

“Never.”

His arms opened for a fraction of a moment. A hard push on her shoulder turned her around to face him. In the dark he was a huge shadow that loomed over her. Beneath the linen strip, her nipples drew into hard points. Her belly quivered, the muscles tightening with anticipation. His face was only angles in the darkness but she had never seen so handsome a man before. He was the embodiment of strength and she found it mesmerizing.

“I will never let ye go, Bronwyn, and I will be happy to prove it to ye.”

He grasped her waist and tossed her upward. Her weight didn’t seem to tax him. Those solid arms clasped her against his body, her waist above his shoulder. She tried to remain stiff, refusing to bend over his back, but he turned and the momentum sent her head downward. One arm clamped across the back of her thighs. She pushed on his wide back to rise up but he bounced her and her breath left her lungs in a whoosh when she landed on his broad shoulder.

“Enough, Bronwyn. Ye are caught. I dinna want to fight with ye.”

“I know what ye want from me!”

She snarled at him but the sound lost much of its venom against the expanse of his back. He reached the steps and bore her up them quickly. The lantern in the keep twinkled as she was carried back up to the second floor. Cullen pushed a door wide and shoved it shut behind him.

A squeal left her lips when Cullen flipped her off his shoulder. He caught her in his arms like a child, cradling her with an arm beneath her knees and one behind her back. He held her for a brief moment before tossing her onto the bed.

His bed.

He looked like a warrior from the tales repeated in the kitchens of raiders that ravished along with stealing.

But it excited her.

The dark expression on his face should have frightened her. Instead she remembered every time he’d used only enough of his strength to subdue her. Somehow, in spite of all of the reasons not to, she’d grown to trust him.

“Aye, ye do know what I want, but if I was intent on hurting ye, I’d have already taken it without a care for yer feelings.”

She scoffed at him. “Pulling me in front of a bishop is being concerned for my feelings? I think not. That is so that ye can petition the king for my dowry.”

The bed shook when he landed on top of her, his weight smothering her and pinning her flat on her back. He grasped her wrists, holding them harder than he ever had.

“I could have taken ye roughly this morning to ensure ye wed me tonight, too, Bronwyn, but I dinna.”

He pressed a hard knee between hers, spreading her thighs in one swift motion. “Even now, I could fuck ye without a thought for yer own pleasure, but I won’t.”

He pushed up off her, standing in front of the bed once again. Reaching out, he grabbed one ankle and attacked the lace holding her boot closed. A scowl marked his face, his grip tight on the back of her foot. With a tug he pulled the boot loose and sent it sailing across the chamber.

“I should have taken yer shoes.”

He had the matching one off her foot in a few more quick motions. A look of triumph lit his eyes. Even in the meager light the room offered from the glowing coals in the fireplace, she noticed that look of victory in his eyes. But she was too shocked to resist. Too stunned to see him undressing her instead of taking what he wanted.

She rose up onto her knees to face him. “It wouldn’t have stopped me.”

He drew a sharp breath. His eyes locking onto hers.

“Which is why I’ll nae relax my guard on ye.”

He reached for the end of his belt. He tugged the three-inch-wide tail of leather back so that the brass spikes holding it tight released. The evenly pleated wool of his kilt slid down his legs but he caught it up and tossed it over a chair before it hit the floor. His legs were bare, except for where his shirttail covered him to a few inches above his knees. She realized that he’d come after her without his boots or sword.

“Ye have more courage than plenty of men I’ve met. I may have stolen ye to right the wrong done to my family name, but I’m keeping ye because I have nae ever met a woman that is yer equal.”

The compliment stunned her. “But ye don’t know me. Not really. Any woman would resist being hauled away by strangers. That is no something extraordinary, Cullen.”

“It is more. I felt it on the afternoon when neither of us knew each other’s name. Just a man and a woman meeting, and the attraction that was there between us.”

He reached up and grabbed his shirt at the shoulders. With a swift tug he drew it over his head. Her breath froze as the crimson light coated his upper body. Every muscle was sculpted into hard ridges. But her eyes dropped to the hard length of his cock. It stood out from his body, swollen and demanding.

“Call it lust or attraction, Bronwyn, but I intend to call ye mine.”

He reached for her and she recoiled with a soft cry. He captured the sides of her makeshift kilt and lifted it into the air. Her entire lower body was held aloft, stealing her ability to escape. But the strip of fabric she’d used to tie the wool to her waist was not strong enough to keep the kilt around her hips. Cullen pulled it over her hips and down her legs.

“It is almost a shame to strip this from ye. I enjoy seeing my colors on ye.”

“Ye would.” Flipping over, she came back up onto her knees but farther back in the bed. There was a solid wall behind the headboard, but at least her chemise fell down to cover her thighs. “Raping me will not break my resolve to not wed ye.”

His expression tightened. “And what is the matter with that? I plan to make ye my wife. Wanting to see my colors on ye is a mark of respect.” He drew a stiff breath. “I may have stolen ye, but I’ve no touched ye once without controlling my strength.”

There was a reprimand in his voice that hit her hard.

“I know.” The admission tumbled past her lips because it was so very true. Her body suddenly quivered as she teetered on the edge of uncertainty. Part of her trusted that he wouldn’t take her roughly, but a lifetime raised as his enemy warned her not to expect kindness from him. The future stretched out so uncertainly, she shivered.

“Tell me ye’ll marry me in the morning, Bronwyn.”

She was tempted. Excitement pulsed through her to surrender her body while the night shrouded them. There was no clan color in the ruby glow of the coals, only two people. Standing there in front of her was the only man who had ever tempted her.

And she was sorely tempted. “I…I dinna…” She clasped a hand over her mouth, sealing her emotion fueled words inside.

The bed rocked as his knees landed on it. He captured her body, drawing her up against him in a swift, secure motion. One hand captured the back of her head, tilting her chin up so that her lips were ready for his kiss. His embrace felt so good, she trembled.

“Maybe ye would prefer I prove my worth as a husband to ye first.” There was a hint of mocking in his voice but it was also tender. “I do enjoy a challenge, lass.”

The hand across her back stroked her bare skin and she shuddered as sensation raced along her spine. He cupped one side of her bottom, pushing her toward his body until they were flush. The hard length of his cock pressed against her belly, sending a wave of heat through her that settled deep inside her.

“I promise to do my best to satisfy ye.” His hold was unbreakable. “I would never rape ye, sweet Bronwyn, but I will seduce ye.”

A whimper left her lips as he kissed her. But it wasn’t a hard, demanding one like the one he’d taken in the hallway. He kissed her gently, tasting her mouth, the tip of his tongue slipping along her lower lip before seeking entrance into her mouth. The hand cradling her head kept her still as he pressed her jaw open to deepen his kiss. It felt too good to resist. Every point of contact between them was pleasurable. It was as if her skin had never really felt before, never truly shown her how much delight she could feel.

She kissed him back, mimicking his motions while trying to learn how to return his kiss.

“Aye, lass, that’s the way. Kiss me back.”

There was a husky tone in his voice that made her bold. Lifting her hands, she slid them along his arms. His skin was so warm as to almost be hot. Soft as satin, it covered muscle that was iron solid. A soft groan filtered through their fused lips. Her eyes opened in surprise.

“Aye, I like it when ye touch me, Bronwyn.” His hand moved and slid down the column of her neck. Sensation shook her instantly, her head tilting to one side without any thought. It was pure instinct to offer herself to his touch.

“As ye enjoy me touching ye.”

There was a hint of determination in his voice now. One that unsettled her. He was so much stronger and her trust for him so fragile. He stroked down along her arms until he caught the hem of her chemise. He drew it over her head in a soft whisper that was mercifully quick.

“Now that is a sin, lass.”

His eyes were focused on the fabric binding her breasts.

“Truly a sin to disguise such a beautiful body.”

He reached for the binding, tearing the cloth with his greater strength. It rent in two, the sound echoing in the silence. Her breasts rejoiced as they were freed, the soft globes falling into their normal teardrop shapes.

He cupped each breast, his fingers gently massaging them. A soft moan passed her lips as her eyes fluttered closed. There was too much sensation to add sight to what her brain had to understand. She was being swept out to sea, where there was enough water to cover her completely.

“I’ve dreamed of tasting ye since I saw ye on that hillside.”

His voice was rough with emotion. Opening her eyes, Bronwyn shivered as he moved toward her. He laid her back among the bedding, his hands still cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed over each nipple and she arched toward his touch.

A strangled cry passed her lips when he kissed one nipple. His lips were scorching hot against her skin. But he did not stop there. Gripping the soft mound, he returned to suck the hard tip into his mouth. She twisted as heat pooled in her belly. It bled into her passage, making her keenly aware of it. She was hungry for more touches, ones that ventured lower.

Cullen didn’t disappoint her.

His hand smoothed down her body, moving across her ribs and onto her belly. The tip of his tongue flicked across her nipple before he trailed soft kisses down the side of her breast and up the side of the other one. His hand roamed lower, teasing the skin above her mons. Anticipation knotted her muscles so tight, she twisted and turned, unable to control her motions.

She wanted that touch. Actually needed it, for some reason. Her thighs were already slightly open, but Cullen moved one knee up along her leg to spread her for his conquest.

It was a conquest, a final action that would complete what he’d begun when he’d demanded her name in the meadow. He pulled his mouth from her nipple and loomed over her when his hand stroked the curls decorating her mons. Their eyes met in the dim light, and even with nothing but embers, she saw the hunger in his gaze.

He pressed a kiss against her mouth that was demanding. Parting her lips while his fingers delved between her thighs, she kissed him back, uncaring about anything but the urges burning through her. Half of his body lay across hers, pinning her gently but completely to the bed.

She cried out when his fingers found the little button at the top of her sex. So much feeling flooded her from the first graze across it, she tried to escape but he held her down, a soft chuckle shaking his broad chest.

“Do ye like that, Bronwyn? I promise ye, it gets better.”

The man kept his word.

Sweat covered her skin when he began rubbing her clitoris. Soft, teasing circles that sent intense pleasure up into her passage. Each minute that he continued built her hunger. For the first time in her life she realized that she was empty. Her body was made to cradle the hard cock pressing against her thigh.

And she craved it.

“No more teasing, Cullen.” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It was too sultry, too hungry.

“Aye, sweet Bronwyn, it is time to be done with playing.”

He rose above her, spreading her thighs with his wide hips. The hard tip of his cock nudged the opening of her body. He held still for a long moment, looking at her beneath him. A glitter of satisfaction crossed his eyes as he pushed forward into her spread body.

She was too tight. As much as she craved being filled, his flesh was hard and the walls of her passage ached. She shuddered, pain twisting up her spine to cut through the haze of desire clouding her thoughts.

“Trust me, lass. I dinna take pleasure in hurting ye. I swear I never will.”

He lowered his body over hers, catching enough of his weight on his forearms to keep from smothering her. But she was pinned completely beneath him, unable to escape the next thrust.

Her fingers turned to claws on his shoulders. Her fingernails cut into his skin, making him grind his teeth. Every bit of control he had was straining against the need to bury himself deep. Her passage was soft and wet with welcome but he pulled free before thrusting smoothly into her once more. He would control the urge to ravish her. For the first time in his life he understood the value of a pure woman. Her body had never welcomed another. It was so stunning, his head spun when he pressed his entire length into her. She quivered beneath him, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. Tears glistened on her cheeks but she didn’t sob, didn’t make a single sound to complain.

“Now we’ll get back to the feeling good part.”

She blinked, her eyelashes wet from her tears. Her hands released their grip as she realized what she was doing. He moved slowly, riding her with long strokes to rekindle the fire in her. A shaky breath rattled past her lips when she realized there was no more pain. Leaning down, he kissed her. Her mouth opened to admit his tongue. Her hands gently stroked his shoulders and it was by far the most arousing touch he’d ever received. Soft and hesitant but sincere.

He found the few tears that had made it past her resolve. He kissed each one, sending a new trickle from her eyes at the tenderness of such concern. The burning pain had dissipated into a dull ache now, her body stretching to accommodate his hard flesh. Yet it was more than that. Each thrust sent a little ripple of enjoyment up into her belly. Her body began to arch toward his thrust out of instinct. There was no thinking about doing it, her hips lifted and a sigh passed her lips when more delight filled her.

“That’s it, lass.”

His voice was husky and edged with a raggedness that hinted that she was giving him the same amount of pleasure. That idea made her bold. She lifted faster and watched his face. A tic jerked along his jaw. Her body was warm again, the heat swirling and pooling deep inside her. All the sensation was tightening around the flesh impaling her. She wanted to move faster, needed to feel him deeper inside her.

He seemed to feel the same. Cullen captured her head, holding it prisoner while his body pressed her down into the mattress. His breath was ragged and hers came in soft pants. Their bodies strained toward one another and she held onto him, wanting him closer.

Her eyes fell closed as her spine arched completely. Even the slight pain from where he held her hair so tightly didn’t bother her. She was too absorbed by the bubble of delight growing in her belly. It swelled and tightened until it broke. Pleasure suddenly ripped through her, stealing every last thought. Her mind swung around in an insane kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that held her frozen in the moment. There was so much pleasure, the intensity of it so great, she cried out, unable to keep it contained.

Her eyes popped open when she heard an answering groan from Cullen. The bed rocked almost violently as he thrust hard and fast into her. His hands tightened around her head as he groaned long and deep. With a hard thrust he buried his cock deep and she felt the warm spurt of his seed fill her. She quivered, her breath rattling while a soft sob left her lips.

’Twas a deed that could no be undone now.

Her mind wanted to wage war against the implications of feeling him inside her, but there was still too much delight rippling through her body to move. Her flesh was satisfied in a way it had never been before. Even knowing that her innocence was gone didn’t alarm her enough to keep her from slipping into slumber. Her body was more than happy to drift away while enjoying the last glow of pleasure. The stress of the last day had drained her, and Cullen was keeping her warm. It seemed to be all she needed. He rolled off her and gathered her against his body. Her head ended up on his shoulder, the sound of his heart filling her ear.

“I’ll keep ye warm, lass.”

And he would. Cullen felt her go lax against him. His own body was sated and fatigue was nipping at his mind. But he wanted to savor the moment. Wanted to indulge in this moment where she lay so complacent against him. The dawn would bring renewed struggles from her, he had no doubt.

Yet for the moment Bronwyn was sleeping against him.

Aye that was worth remaining awake for.

Dawn woke her.

Bronwyn lifted a hand to rub her eyes. It wasn’t very bright light, but the gray of winter. She stared at the windows, trying to recall where she was. Her nose was cold because the bed curtains were not drawn and the fire long gone cold. But her body was basking in the warmth of the man beside her.

“Good morning, lass.”

Cullen held her still when she would have jumped away from him. With a solid arm around her waist, he kept her tightly against him. The night rushed back at her, her memory recalling every detail. Between her thighs there was a dull ache when she moved, confirming that her mind was quite correct in what it remembered.

“I trust that there will be no more debate over the subject of taking marriage vows.”

Horror flooded her as she heard the voice of Bishop Shaman. Turning her head, she looked across the room to see the man eyeing her and Cullen critically. Druce McJames stood there as well and grinned when she looked at him. Her face turned hotter than a summer day. Lined up next to Druce were Lydia and three other women. Not young maids, but mature women who were there to see the sheets she was lying on.

The jubilant air in the room made her stomach tighten with nausea. She felt more helpless than when Cullen had tied her up and carried her out of her father’s kitchen.

Lydia moved forward. “Well now, up with ye. There’s a wedding to dress for. I hear your mother is gone from this life, so I shall see ye to the chapel in her place.”

She pulled Bronwyn’s chemise from the floor and shook it out. The maids grasped the bedding and rolled it down, baring her and Cullen to everyone.

The brute held her still as they finished the job.

Turning her head, she glared at him, but found solid determination on his face. There was no hint of relenting in his eyes. None.

“There is going to be no question on just when I took yer innocence, Bronwyn.”

He stood up, taking her along with him from the bed. Her gaze dropped to the sheets. Her gasp was lost as Lydia laughed. A dark stain marred the surface of the sheet. Cullen set her free but the women surrounded her. They inspected her from head to toe, even lifting her arms to see all of her body.

The bishop observed it all. Druce at least didn’t look at her nude body. But Cullen’s clansman walked closer to the bed to inspect the sheet. He nodded approval before tugging the fabric off the bed.

“I’ll take charge of this.” He walked to the window and the maids hurried to push the shutters open for their laird. With a sharp snap of fabric, Druce set the sheet hanging out the window. A cheer rose from the yard below. Bronwyn felt her throat tighten. The noose was tight against her throat now.

“I will see you both in the chapel before you break yer fast.”

The bishop spoke too happily for her pride to suffer. She glared at them, at all of them who were helping to form a cage around her. With brute strength and church law she was being broken to their will.

“I will not wed.”

Cullen was already in his shirt. He scowled at her. “Bronwyn…”

“I told ye I wouldn’t and I won’t. Nae even now that ye have taken what my father accused ye of.” She lifted her chin high. “Ye’ve earned what the gossips are saying now.”

“Do you accuse this man of rape, Bronwyn McQuade?” The bishop’s voice cracked like a whip. “By yer own admission and the evidence before me he has had yer innocence. Do ye cry rape?”

The chamber was silent, the tension thick. Cullen watched her, waiting to see how she would answer. She shouldn’t care about his feelings, but saying rape would provide her with more time to avoid him. The bishop would have to hold a hearing. But she would have to lie to do so.

She couldn’t, not after the way he’d handled her so tenderly.

“No. There was no rape.”

Bishop Shaman grunted. He touched all of his fingertips against each other and peered at the three women that had inspected her.

“Is there any sign of force?”

They all shook their heads, one of them lending her voice to the question. “Nae even a small bruise, yer grace.”

Bishop Shaman nodded then glared at her. “Ye have passed the night with this man, Bronwyn McQuade. I believe ye have given him yer innocence and therefore ye have sinned against church law. You will marry for the good of both yer souls as well as for the example such will set for this Christian community.”

She backed up, shaking her head while reaching for her chemise to cover her body. The bishop snorted with displeasure.

“Persist in this rebellion and I will have ye placed in the stocks until ye repent. Perhaps on your father’s land loose morals are allowed, but among the McJames, the law of the church is enforced.”

He turned his disapproval on Cullen. “I will be waiting in the chapel. Are ye set to obey my will, son?”

“I will be there as soon as I dress.”

Bishop Shaman nodded approval at Cullen’s quick answer. He sent one more stern look at her before leaving the room, his black robe floating in the morning air. Druce rubbed his palms against one another.

“Well now, I suggest ye get dressed, lass. It will be a mighty cold day to stand in the stocks in nothing but that bit of linen. As delightfully charming as it is on ye.”

Her temper snapped when one of the women chuckled in response to the jest. Grabbing one of her shoes, she threw it across the room at Druce. He ducked and laughed harder.

“Enough of yer taunting me! I swear I’ve a mind to satisfy God’s will just so that he’ll hear me when I pray for ye to be stricken with love for a woman who will no have ye.”

Cullen surprised her by laughing. His eyes twinkled as he shooed the women toward the door. “There is nae such thing as a woman my cousin canna have, Bronwyn. If she says nae, we’ll just have to steal her, like we did ye.”

She threw her other shoe at his mocking face.

He raised an arm to deflect it and scooped her up a second later. He spun around in a circle and she grabbed at his neck to steady her head. He stopped a moment later, one hand wrapping about her braid to hold her head in place.

“Enough now, lass. There is two feet of snow in the yard. I’d hate to see ye shivering in the stocks on our wedding day.”

“But ye would allow it.” She hissed at him, pushing against his chest, but the man held steady. “Ye and yer bishop that ye brought here to torment me.”

“Aye, be very sure that I enjoy winning. Yer father will nae bend to this union easy, I know that well. But Jamie will take the word of one of his bishops.”

He released her and bent down to retrieve her boot. “But if ye have it in yer mind to challenge the church, I suggest ye put yer boots on before being led to the stocks.”

“Brute.”

All traces of teasing melted from his expression. Hunger flickered in his eyes now. “I promise to warm ye up when ye have taken yer vows. Before or after the stocks, that’s yer choice, Bronwyn McQuade. But ye will be my wife.”

He picked up his plaid and belt where it lay on the chair from the night before. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked toward the door.

“I’ll make a poor wife, that’s my promise to ye.”

He turned back around to look at her. His gaze was filled with heat as he looked her over from the top of her head to her feet, lingering on her breasts and the nipples that showed slightly through her chemise.

“I disagree. Ye’ve passion inside ye that will see ye becoming a fine wife to my way of thinking. ’Tis understandable that ye dinna trust me, Bronwyn. But only time will see us learning about one another. ’Tis for sure that our bed will nae be cold.”

“Ohhh…trust a man to think lust is all a couple needs.”

He shrugged and taunted her with that boyish grin. “It is nae so bad a place to start.” His expression sobered. “At least it is better than dwelling on the fact that yer family is full of vipers who plot to blacken my name or run me through.”

He left and the sound of the closing door was as piercing as a gunshot. Horror held her in its grasp as she stared around the room. The cold wind whipped up through the open shutters of the window, chilling her legs. But she heard the snap of the sheet as it flew outside the window. It was the noose tied around her neck.

It had not been rape.

Her father would scream that it had been, but she knew better. In sooth, she wondered if she were truly the child of Erik McQuade because she could not lie as he did. It was a harsh burden to carry, knowing that your sire was not an example to follow.

Cullen was.

She stiffened as the idea blossomed inside her thoughts without warning. There were so many reasons for her to distrust him but she could not deny that here was a man worth admiring. If she were not a McQuade, wedding him might be a happy moment. Instead she was besieged by the ideas of what next spring would bring. There would be blood spilt on both sides. Her father would accuse Cullen of rape and no one would get close enough to her to hear her deny it. The entire sordid mess would be paraded before the court.

That was not the part she feared. It was the hot tempers of her brothers and the night raiding that they favored for venting their spleen. The farmers would pay the price along with the retainers who followed their lairds into battle.

Even Cullen might fall victim to burnished steel.

And what lay before her this winter at Sterling? A McQuade inside the fortress of their enemy, what would be her plight there? Many a man acted well in front of a bishop only to throw off his sheepskin once he was no longer in sight of such a powerful man of the church. Cullen wanted a child. Would he beat her if she failed to conceive quickly? Would he raise his hand if she birthed him a daughter? Would he…

Bronwyn shoved the disturbing thoughts away. She would be weeping in another few moments.

She walked closer to the window. A blanket of white glittered in the dim sunlight. The stocks stood empty on one side of the yard. Every castle had them. It was more civilized than whipping. Faster than starving her until she yielded. As much as she might wish it otherwise, no one could endure endlessly. She would bend to the cold at some point.

As ye yielded last night to the pleasure.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Lydia appeared with the green dress in her arms.

“I wish there was something finer for yer wedding.” She bustled into the room, another maid following her with a pitcher of water. She poured it into the large wooden bowl on the dressing stand and steam rose from it. No one catered to her so well at Red Stone.

But that didn’t mean that her life at Sterling would be any better.

Lydia began pulling the braid from her hair and brushing it. Numb with her doubts, Bronwyn stood still while the maids tended to her. It should have made her happy, thinking of home. But it darkened her mood, settling in her heart for some strange reason.

But she refused to wear the green dress. Lydia looked at her as if she was insane.

“What are ye going to wear then? Surely not only yer chemise?”

“Aye, that is exactly what I will wear and nothing else.”

The maid looked at Lydia and the woman rubbed her hands together for a few moments. Bronwyn turned on them.

“The man wants a wedding made with a stolen bride? Well, he shall have me as he took me. In my shift. Best that he begins to understand that I bring nothing else to this union.”

Her pride might be a greater sin but she put her boots on and tied the strip back around her breasts to help hide her nipples. With a deep breath she walked toward her wedding.

May God have mercy on them all.