King. He liked the sound of that word on her lips. On anyone’s lips. And if that made him a proud man, then so be it. He had worked long and hard to earn and keep the title.
He knelt on the bed beside her, and she raised her face hopefully, in search of a kiss. But kisses were meant to show love, and deep affection. She knew that. And she also knew that he did not love her. Would never love her. He had made it clear the very first time she had come to him that the only thing between them would be sex. He grabbed her hips and turned her roughly onto her hands and knees, leaning over to whisper in her ear.
“Ah, do not hope, lass. I will never love a woman more than my Kingdom. Andnevermore than my ambition.” There would be time for love and marriage later, if it was meant for him, but right now it held no interest. No woman could hold a candle to the thrill of battle and conquest. “I’m going to take you so hard that you’ll see stars, lass. If you don’t want that, leave now. If you stay, you’re mine to do with as I please.”
She answered with a grind of her bottom against his hard and straining cock. He laughed low in his throat and pulled at the leather ties of his pants. “I have warned you. I have much pent-up energy this night. I intend to use you hard.”
A visible shiver ran down her spine. “Aye Bridei, please!”
“Impatient lass”, he scolded as he pushed his cock slowly into her, reveling in the feel of tight, warm heat and the musky scent of woman. Within moments his thrusts had sped up to a rapid pace, and he slammed into her still harder, as he always did…as if he could find some missing part of himself if he could only reach a certain threshold. But he was disappointed every time. It was never enough. His body never seemed to be truly sated, nor was his soul. When his people were safe and free, it would be different, he told himself each time.
Lair rolled, trying to sit astride him, to ride him like some wild stallion. He bucked his hips, dislodging her and rolling her body back under his, pinning her with his weight. “I don’t think so. I’m in charge, lass. You’d best remember that.” But when he looked down at the woman, her eyes closed and lips curled with pleasure, his mind flashed to another face with green eyes that seemed to cut him open and make him feel every single hollow place inside. A woman who was even now tied to a post in his bedchamber. He used Lair’s body until his lust was quenched, and then he sent her on her way, much to her obvious disappointment.
As he lay in the tangle of linens that smelled of sex, he felt the ache of that missing part of himself like never before. His soul cried out for something else, and he just didn’t know what that something was.
Nessaslept fitfully in her awkward, semi-upright position. By morning her entire body was stiff and she had an awful ache in one side of her neck that no amount of stretching her head to side seemed to fix. The physical pain only added to her growing feelings of doom. The executions she had witnessed the night before had done nothing to alleviate her anxiety, and had in fact given her nightmares. While she couldn’t remember all the details of her dreams, there had definitely been a lot of blood spilled, and she had a vague recollection of someone being chopped to pieces with a knife. She had woken up several times throughout the night in a cold sweat, once with a horrible feeling that Angus would be the knife’s next victim.It was only a bad dream, she told herself again.
She hadn’t seen Angus since they were separated. She was worried about him, and she was even more worried about her grandmother. She had to get home in time to say goodbye. She couldn’t let Gram think she’d abandoned her in her final days; her chest ached just thinking about it. The nurses would call to tell her it was time, and she wouldn’t even be there to answer the phone. Her heart started beating faster and she pulled at the ropes binding her wrists. The panic was rising again, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it tamped down.
The door swung open and she stopped struggling with the ropes to look up. Namet. She couldn’t help it, a few tears leaked from her eyes as he raised an eyebrow at her obvious but futile attempt at escape.
“Please, I need to go home. My grandmother is very ill, and I don’t want her to die alone.”
If the warrior had any sympathy at all for her plight, he didn’t show it. “You will be freed when you tell the truth.”
“Iamtelling the truth. I swear I am!”
“We’ll see.” He bent to untie her wrists. “Come; you can see to your needs, then I’ll feed you.”
It was a relief to stand up and stretch, if nothing else. “Can I see my uncle?” Seeing Angus would go a long way to calm her fears. She had to know where he was if she was going to escape with him when she got her chance.
“No, it’s not permitted.”
“Is he ok? At least tell me if he’s ok.”
“He’s well enough.”
Apparently Namet was a man of very few words.
She was led down the stairs again, and outside into the bright sunlight. The sun shone down from a nearly cloudless sky; a rarity for Scotland. Nessa looked around at the people who had stopped to stare at her. Some carried baskets or buckets filled with water or vegetables, others were minding small children or leading horses with thick ropes. Most had black tattoos on their arms and legs, and some had them on their faces too. Many stared at her with open curiosity, and others with eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion.
Namet guided her to a tiny round building made of sticks and branches lashed together, and opened the door. “Be quick”, he told her. She ducked inside and he shut the door behind her. There were no windows, but light streamed in from between the branches, and she could see a deep hole dug in the center of the small room. Next to it was a basket full of leaves. So this was the toilet.
She made use of it as fast as she could, worried that any second Namet would open the door looking for her and see her awkwardly squatting over the hole. When she was finished, he took her back to the small round house she had been in the day before, sat her at a table, and gave her a bowl of the same lamb stew from the night before. It was cold and congealed, but she ate it anyway. She would need her strength. When she finished, Namet took the bowl and left her there. She heard the scrape of a bolt sliding across the door. When she ran to check the windows, there was a man outside each one, standing guard.
Bridei wrinkled his nose as he ducked through the low and sagging doorway. Inside, the room was far too dim and dusty, and smelled of acrid herbs and dark corners. He preferred being outdoors in the fresh air and sunlight to this shadowy closeness.
“Meara? Ah…there you are.”
“Bridei. Welcome.” Meara stepped out from behind a thick curtain, which divided the space into two smaller sections. She set a bowl down on the table and dusted something off the front of her tunic with her hands. “You are here about the lass.”
He nodded. “Aye, the lass.”
Meara gazed at him speculatively, but if one looked carefully, there was amusement in the slight crinkles at the corner of her eyes. “She weighs heavy on your mind, this one small woman.”
“Kingdoms have been felled by less.”
“This is true.” Meara picked up a spoon and began to stir the contents of the bowl. A slight smile curved her lips. “But only time will tell if she will toppleyourKingdom.”
