The Maid of Lorne

“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.