Captured by a Laird (11 page)

Stref cursed the wench for the umpteenth time that day.
Was her sole purpose to goad him
?

“You will call it down once we have some privacy. It disturbs my clan.”

Lena bowed her head demurely. “As you wish, my Lord,” she said through gritted teeth.

Stref was irked again by her tone. He was sure she should posses more gratitude for his part in her safety. Damn the woman, but he had rescued her twice in the last two days.

Helping her from the horse as they reached the doors to the keep, Stref handed his mount over to an eager stable boy who appeared beside him. He kept his hand firmly on Lena’s elbow, and guided her to the gardens via a side gate.

“This is just the spot where your friend Anna handed me over to Haigh,” Lena said, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Anna?’ he asked.

“Oh yes, Anna,” Lena explained slowly, speaking to him as if he were the village idiot. “What was it she said now about your performance?” lowering her voice to a husky tone Lena mimicked, “‘That brute has none of your expertise.’”

“Cease your talk, woman!” Stref had heard enough. He was angry at himself for not picking up on Anna’s guilt sooner. Her actions could have caused Lena severe harm, and his blood boiled at the prospect of what the filthy bastard had planned to do to her. “Now call your bird,” he added with a husky tone, filled with emotions that were confusing him.

Lena let out a long, low whistle and raised her arm towards the sky.

“Step back,” she ordered and something in her voice made Stref obey at once.

A majestic creature descended from the sky, settling on Lena’s outstretched arm. Stref moved, ready to assist, but Lena spoke low. “Stay still.”

Cooing to the animal, Lena raised her eyebrows to Stref. “Come slowly up and raise your arm,” she instructed.

Doing as she asked, Lena moved her arm parallel to his and gently tipped the bird onto Stref’s arm. The weight struck him first. It was as heavy as a small hound and its claws dug painfully into his exposed flesh. All the time, Lena spoke caressing platitudes into the feathered head. The bird made soft sounds in response, opening its beak as if to receive a treat.

“I have nothing, my old friend,” she laughed lightly.

Stref caught his breath at the sound of her laugh. It had a musical lilt and he found himself hoping he might hear it more often. He also found himself wildly jealous that the bird was the one receiving such intimate attention from its beautiful mistress.

“Take it out to the courtyard,” Lena suggested. “Let your people see that you have the trust of Rwenor.”

Stref marvelled again, this time at the astute mind of his betrothed. Holding the bird would convince his clan that he had mastered Green Bow. Once again the Lord Harris found himself thanking an unseen force; this time for his good fortune in acquiring such a mate.

The bird did what it may have taken Stref Harris weeks to do. One look at the symbol of Green Bow perched happily on the arm of their laird caused much merriment and rejoicing. None noticed the proximity of the woman who was soon to be their lady, or the soothing words she spoke to the golden eagle as it sat proudly on display.

As the crowd dispersed to prepare for the imminent nuptials, Stref ordered a young maid to take Lena to her room and draw her a bath. The maid led the way and Stref watched the retreating back of his betrothed, trying not to let his mind dwell on how she may look naked and soaping herself in the old tin bath that would be filled before the fire.

As a precaution, Stref also ordered a pair of young guards to stand outside the chamber. He added a strict instruction that they were not, under any circumstances, to intrude on the lady and gave them a graphic example of what would happen to them if they did. He also ordered that no other was to enter the room. Stref cursed the fact that he had business to attend as he would have much rather attended the lady in the bath himself. As the thought made his groins swell again, he laughed ruefully at the discomfort the slip of a lass had caused his manhood in the last few hours. He only hoped that he would find his release in the marital bed.

Entering the hall, Stref paused only to ensure the traitorous Anna had been removed from the premises. He was assured that she had last been seen making her sorry way west to reunite with her laird. Stref dared not think about the homecoming she would receive at his cruel hands. Stref urged his thoughts to return to the matters in hand. His few key advisors were gathered around the large fireplace that dominated the meagre room, providing warmth and a homeliness to the otherwise sparse, stone space. Stretching his hands towards the dancing flames, Stref called for a tankard of the strong mead that flowed as easily as water in his home. He found that nothing else warmed his insides after days sleeping outdoors than the brewed beverage. Its taste was his reminder of home.

“So this time you have angered the cruellest and terrifying laird in the Highlands,” Clyde opened with a wry smile.

“It happens that I am the most terrifying laird in the Highlands, and Haigh has angered me by stealing my prisoner,” he began, returning the grin; then added, “who is now my betrothed.”

The other men shot awkward glances at each other, which did not go unnoticed by their laird.

“Something to add?” he boomed at them, looking from one to another with a dark scowl.

“This wedding, is it really necessary?” Clyde spoke at last.

“If we want to make an alliance with Rwenor, yes.”

“What is stopping us just defeating them,” Clyde persisted. “It has worked for us for generations.”

“A thing I need to tell you about the girl who occupies our upstairs room is that we do not just have a whore from Rwenor that I have taken a fancy to. Her name is Lena. She is the clan chief of Rwenor. Our nuptials will ensure an alliance that lasts for generations to come.”

Stref paused. Something held him back from telling his men that she was also the legendary Green Bow. He wanted to know something about Lena that was his alone to know.

“A truly fortunate capture then,” Clyde said.

The other men nodded in agreement.

“We must send word for the elders of Rwenor. They must be informed that Lena is safe. The holy man must also be traced. I also plan to extend an invitation to Fogert. If we can persuade him to join our alliance, we can crush Haigh as he deserves to be crushed.”

After directing his men to their assigned tasks, Stref, Lord of Harris, found himself alone in his hall. At once his thoughts turned to the female who occupied his upper chamber. Turning on his heels he left the room with a wolfish smile.

Chapter Twelve

Lena lay back, luxuriating in the warm, scented water. All her aches, pains, and chills slowly ebbed away. The design of the bath was deep and long, allowing her to submerge her head. As the water dulled her hearing and the breath caught in her throat, Lena allowed her mind to linger over the touch of Stref Harris. His big, coarse hands exploring her slender body incited the now familiar feeling of arousal deep within her. Lena arched her body in the deep water, revelling in the warmth it provided.

Suddenly, a cold blast hit her as her naked form was pulled roughly from its watery cocoon.

“You look just as I imagined you,” Stref’s voice blew across her tingling skin, causing her to shiver in anticipation.

Stref, once again pulled himself free of his plaid and encased her within its soft warmth. Any thoughts she had about being perturbed that she had been wrenched from the comfort of her bath, were replaced with the familiar course of blood to her loins in the presence of this mighty warrior. He stood her carefully onto the floor then sank to his knees and set about the deliberate task of drying her shuddering body. With the edge of the cloth, he traced a path of desire across her naked form. The softness of the fabric, combined with the look of desire in his eyes sent shudders through Lena’s body, making her knees tremble.

Lena captured her full bottom lip with her teeth to prevent the cry of desire that threatened to escape.

“Something to say?” Stref murmured cajolingly.

Lena shook her head, frantic with the waves of constant pleasure that pulsed through her body. The fabric, being moved in slow circles was dominating her every thought.

“Please?” she cried, releasing her lip and reaching out towards Stref.

Unsure if she wanted to stop him or pull him in closer, Lena snarled with frustration. This man was quickly becoming her undoing. She could ill afford to turn her back and her mind to her people and their safety.

Stref paused in his systematic assault of her senses and looked up at her with a sly grin. He pulled the plaid slowly from her and cast it aside; then moved his hands in slow circles across her flesh, imitating the path that the material had traced. Lena gasped as he seemed to be touching her everywhere. Her skin burned as his touch intensified and grew more demanding, bringing her to the edge of reason.

“My every thought is you,” he purred, his hands relentless in their domination of her slender body.

Lena began rocking on her heels; she was unsure how long her legs would hold against the delicious invasion of her senses. Her hands reached forward again, finding the soft length of Stref’s hair then burying themselves within its lushness. She pulled herself closer to him but froze as his moist tongue darted out and tasted her womanly core.

Lena bucked as Stref used his hands to part her petal-shaped folds, revealing the dark pink flesh of her inner heat. His tongue teased and licked the hard nub as his finger slid easily into her. In and out he moved as his tongue circled and flicked alternately.

A scream was all that Lena could manage before her legs finally betrayed her and buckled. She fell heavily against Stref who turned to catch her and pulled her onto his broad torso. Lena bent forward, her long hair splayed across Stref’s muscled chest. Her lips reached out to claim his. At once she tasted the musky tang of her own arousal. Lena deepened her kiss, desperate to stir a matching passion in the man before her.

She did not have long to wait. Stref matched her passionate kiss with fervour. His hands cupped around her bare buttocks and lifted her onto his massive length. Lena gasped as Stref filled her. He pulled her against him and filled her again and again. Each entry was more delightful than the last, and each caused the dramatic build up of ecstasy.

Cry after cry burst from Lena’s lips as tears streamed down her face. Stref matched her outburst with primal grunts and finally a satisfied curse. Sated, the two lay sprawled on one another, sweat mingling with the remnants of moisture from the steaming bath.

“I am sorry,” Stref spoke into Lena’s dark, damp curls. “I vowed I would wait until our nuptials, yet I could not get the image of you bathing from my head.”

Lena blushed prettily, lowering her eyes. “I have never felt the way you make me feel,” she confessed. “I have spent my life protecting, defending, no time was left for…for…well, for anything else.”

Stref pulled her in for another deep embrace. “Words like that will not make it easy for me to leave you to prepare,” he said as he broke away.

“My people,” Lena said, raising herself to a sitting position. “Haigh will rain down his wrath against them. I must go. Our wedding will have to be postponed. I have to leave.”

“You will not leave,” Stref was also upright as the words left him. “My best men are riding to Rwenor. They will accompany Val and a small contingent of your clan to attend our union. Guards will stay to protect your croft. I have also sent for Fogert. He may be persuaded to make an alliance with us. Together we will make a formidable enemy.”

Lena looked thoughtfully at the giant man before her. A man who could fire her desire yet protect her people. Her heart swelled as she realised the truth of her feelings.

“Thank you,” she said simply, her traitorous eyes once again deceiving her with a moist display of emotion.

Stref’s own eyes were hooded. He swallowed hard then turned his back.

“Be ready in one hour,” he said brusquely before leaving the room without a backward glance.

Chapter Thirteen

Stref’s chest rose and fell as he gulped big lungfuls of the fresh air that bit through the open courtyard. He had left Lena wide-eyed and confused as he cowardly retreated from her simple gratitude. The woman who occupied his chamber had penetrated deep under his skin, further than any ever had before, and it scared him. He was happy to protect Rwenor, and it was more than just because of the fertile lands it offered, yet how could he convince his people that the feared Green Bow was not responsible for the terror for which he was blamed? To find that Green Bow was not a merciless killer, but a brave and devoted girl who was defending her kin in the same way that he was. The same girl had successfully wormed her way into his cynical heart was a complication that he had not prepared himself for.

As he descended the stairs, Stref’s gaze flicked over the sparse hall that was now adorned with boughs of green. The laden branches created an enchanting aisle that was ready for the bride. Stref gave an approving nod. He then set off in search of Clyde, dismissing the feelings of excitement that bubbled up inside him.

Just keep telling yourself it is for the good of the Harris clan
, an inner voice teased him.

Clyde stood tall in the middle of the courtyard. He was deep in conversation with the men Stref had sent to Fogert.

“What news?” boomed Stref as he approached the group.

“Fogert rides!” the relived guard was happy to report. “He took the news with great mirth, and hopes to see the ‘squirming face of Haigh.’”

The young man’s paraphrasing of Fogert’s words brought a smile to the lips of the laird. “I hope he will,” he added.

Turning at the sound of approaching hooves, Lord Harris’ smile widened as he observed a healthy contingent of Rwenor’s men riding towards the keep. They were flanked by his own guards, but camaraderie seemed evident among the two clans. An air of festivity was abound and its joy contagious.