She pushed herself to her feet and lifted the hem of her léine, revealing the long, lean form of a warrior enhanced by the tempting breasts and delectable arse of a master seductress. The candlelight painted her golden. Visions of her riding him made it harder to breathe.
“Come to me, my bear,” she coaxed with a fluttering of her fingers. “Let us enjoy this bit of heaven granted to us lowly mortals.”
He had known by the way she had battled him that her passions would be just as rare and breathtaking. This was not a woman who grudgingly pleasured a man because he wished it. This sparring goddess demanded pleasuring for herself, as well. But survival instincts held him in check. Beneath her, she could use those chains for a darker purpose. Fear of harm didn’t allay him. Nay, something else held him back—the potential damage to their fragile understanding. Their trust was new. It hadn’t fully blossomed yet but was very close. He wouldn’t risk shattering it.
Rising from the floor, he took a step back.
An immediate leeriness appeared in her stance. Chin lifting to a defiant tilt, she yanked down her shirt and covered herself. “You mean to refuse me. Again.”
“Nay, lass.” He took the stool from beside the table, placed it alongside the stakes, and sat. “I willna refuse ye again, but neither will I toss all caution to the winds.” He opened his knees wider and pulled her in between them. “More control this way, aye?”
“More control?” she repeated, resting her hands on his shoulders. Her chains slid across his chest, snagging in the hairs and pinching. “You thought I planned to use my bonds against you?”
“It had occurred to me.” With his hands molding her buttocks and the tautness of her warm stomach brushing his chin and nose, he struggled to explain further. Before he could find the words, she turned within his embrace and faced outward.
“For trust,” she explained, lifting her tunic again to display her delightful backside. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lowered herself into his lap, engulfing him with a hard downward shove that made him groan. “There, my hesitant bear,” she said, flexing as she lay back against his chest. “My chains are of no danger to you this way.”
“Trust me, m’lady,” he said while palming a breast and reaching around to slide his fingers along the silkiness of her inner thigh. “I still find ye verra dangerous.”
“Good,” she purred, moving her hips in slow, exquisite circles. She guided his touch to the slippery heat of their joining, covering his hand with her own. Her fingers told him what she wanted—nay, not wanted, but demanded. With their united, artful massaging, her hips pumped harder, rewarding him for the effort. The lady had said she wished a hard gallop, then a hard gallop she would have. The stool creaked beneath them, risking collapse. He didn’t care. More room on the floor.
That realization fueled an insatiable need for such freedom, forcing him to stand and bend her to her hands and knees in front of him. He vaguely noticed the pain in his leg, but it was fleeting. More enjoyable sensations demanded his attention. He fully embraced them, pounding with a fury. She served him well, adding to the dance by arching back against him and meeting him thrust for thrust. It was no longer a dance but a battle between them. Passion against passion. Need vying with need. By the time they collapsed in the furs, neither could speak. Just held each other while gasping and heaving for air.
“Well done, my fine bear.” She pecked a kiss to his inner arm, then pillowed her head upon it as he curled around her.
“And ye as well, m’lady.” With his fingers tucked between her breasts, he grazed a kiss across her shoulder, then buried his face in the silkiness of her hair. Every movement took extra effort. It was as though the air itself weighed him down, and he was too weak to fight it.
She nestled back tighter against his chest, then went still. Her breathing slowed and, for the first time since he had set eyes on the enticing wee fury, she relaxed, melting into him with the softness of a bairn’s rag doll.
He should sleep, too, but his conscience wouldn’t allow it. While he hadn’t forced himself upon the lass, he had most definitely used her. What others thought didn’t worry him. Much. The respect of his men mattered. Respect unified his warriors and made them fight as a single powerful force. But if they decided him a hypocrite for not only taking a prisoner but also helping himself to all she offered? What then? What would happen to his order that no women or children ever be harmed or abused?
And what of her? The more he thought over what little she had finally shared, the more he decided this fierce beauty needed saving, whether she realized it or not. Life had made her depend on only herself. Necessity had forced her to seek them out for aid in the fight for her freedom. He wondered if she realized how fortunate she was to have crossed paths with them rather thanGallóglaighsfrom a different clan. The mercenaries were known for their brutality for a reason. Even within the MacDougall clan, some questioned his ability to lead because of his mindset regarding women, children, or any of the weak, for that matter. But he set them straight with such a fury, no one ever questioned him again.
He closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper into her hair.
“Be still,” she mumbled, pulling his arm tighter around her. “Sleep.”
He smiled at the scolding. A dangerous warmth, something akin to contentment, flickered into existence and spread through him like the burn of good whisky. Aye, she was a dangerous one indeed, needing no weapon other than her spirit. The weight of weariness set in and pushed him closer to oblivion.
Tomorrow, he would come up with a plan. For now, he would do as he was told.
*
A whimpering shoutand a body thrashing against him jerked him to full wakefulness.
“Nei! Nei!” She twisted away, both hands lifted as though fending off blows. Even by the dim light of a lone candle, the misery twisting her features was unmistakable. Eyes squeezed shut, she rolled and flailed, battling the attacker only she could see. Vicious demons haunted her dreams.
He dodged the irons as she fought, trying to wake her gently. “Adellis!” Catching hold of her chains, he pulled them taut and spoke louder. “Wake yerself, lass. Adellis!”
Chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat, she opened her eyes and became still. “I am sorry I woke you,” she rasped, then jerked the chains out of his hands and scooted as far from him as her restraints allowed.
Survivor of a few night horrors of his own, Thorburn lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, making him wish he hadn’t touched her. “Are ye all right, lass? Truly?”
“I am fine.” She twitched away from his hand and resettled her head on her folded arm. “Just silliness. Like a child dreaming of monsters.”
“It is nay silliness when the evil is so real ye can taste it.”
She didn’t answer, just blew out a shuddering sigh.
