His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages (3 page)

The girl looked like she was about to fall over. He dragged a chair next to the fireplace, noticing that she stiffened when he touched her shoulder. He ordered her to sit. She sank into the chair gratefully, but he could tell she was all nerves.

Good,
he thought.
I don’t want her getting comfortable around me.
He looked at her matted hair and shook his head. There was no way to untangle such a mess. He pulled out his knife and approached her. The wide-eyed look she gave him was comical. “You cannot lay your head anywhere in my home until you are properly cleaned. It cannot be done with this rat’s nest for hair.” She did not protest when he grabbed a hank of hair and began cutting through it. Halfway through his butcher job, however, he noticed a tear running down her cheek.

“No need to cry. You will look a sight better without it.”

“Nae, I wull look like a…” She barely choked out the last word. “Laddie.” Then the tears started falling.

Ryce shook his head, but kept hacking away. He realized it wasn’t just the hair she was mourning the loss of. “Hair grows out, until it does you can be grateful for the ease of care.” She began sobbing softly. “Enough!” His tactics were heartless and that was fine with him. He could not afford to concern himself with her.

Gathering the pile of dark red tangles off the floor, he opened the door and threw them outside for the animals. At least her hair would be of some use.

Ryce turned back to her and had to stifle his laughter. She looked pathetic with her red-rimmed eyes, that gaunt little face and her short hair sticking up in ridiculous angles.

“First you eat, and then you bathe before bed.” He took the hot soup off the fire and poured it into a bowl before going out and refilling the pot with creek water to boil for her bath. Even if he thoroughly cleaned her, it was pointless if she still wore the clothes. He groaned inwardly, knowing what that would mean.

Jovita…

He stormed back into the house, suddenly angry at the girl for causing him this unwelcomed pain. When he saw she hadn’t eaten the soup, he barked, “Eat!” He said it with such force that she immediately grabbed the spoon on the table and began shoveling it into her mouth. “Not so fast,” he growled, “you’ll make yourself ill.”

She obediently slowed down, averting her eyes. He ignored her and wrestled the wooden wash tub to the middle of the room. He made sure the water was warm enough before he ordered her to bathe. “Good. With hot soup inside your stomach and a warm bath, I am sure you will be able to get a good night’s rest. Now strip and get into the tub.”

The girl looked at him in horror as she crossed her hands over her chest. “Nae. I cannae!”

“I don’t want you, fool! Do what I say.”

She shook her head vigorously.

Ryce sighed in disgust, but realized she was in the right. “Fine. I will turn my head. Strip and throw your clothes in a pile over here.” He pointed next to the fireplace. “You can jump in the tub.” He turned his back on her and waited. It took several moments, but he finally heard her slip into the water. When he turned around, she was sitting cross-legged in the small tub, covering her breasts defiantly.

He strode over to her pile of rags and threw them into the fire.

“Whit ye doin’?” she cried, scrambling out.

“Getting rid of the filth,” he answered, unintentionally staring at her naked body when he turned to address her. Her bony frame made her look like a child, not a young woman.

She scurried back into the tub, mumbling, “I hae neathin’ now…”

Tears rolled down her cheeks again and he wanted none of it. “I have some clothes far more appropriate, Buchanan. Stop crying and clean up.” He left for the barn to give her privacy and to retrieve the dreaded garment.

Ryce walked directly to the last horse stall, listening to Eventide nicker as he passed. He stared at the trunk hidden in the shadows of the furthest corner. He’d carried the trunk with him wherever he settled, despite the fact it only brought heartache and guilt.

He approached it, wishing he could prevent the inevitable, but he refused to hesitate as he unlocked the loathed trunk with the key attached around his neck. He slowly opened the lid, drinking in the faint smell of her. He closed his eyes and remembered.

Jovita. God, how I miss thee…

He saw her innocent smile, the joy that radiated from her brown eyes, those lips that knew him so well. A flash of blood smeared the vision and he abruptly opened his eyes.

“No.”

Ryce pulled out the sky-blue dress and slammed the trunk shut, preventing further memories. He strode back to the cottage angrily. The girl’s presence was causing him needless pain. She had to go, the sooner the better—whatever the cost.

“Dry off and dress, now!” he barked, throwing the dress to the floor beside her.

He turned away, not wanting to acknowledge the waif who had introduced emotional ambiguity into his life. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he waited for her to comply.

Ryce was not prepared when he turned and saw her in Jovita’s dress. Even though it hung on her like a sack and her hair was short like a boy’s, she was beautiful.

He snarled with the taint of a hundred years of pent-up agony. “Don’t ruin that dress, girl!” Ryce rushed out the door, unable to bear her presence any longer.
Must. Get. Rid.

He hiked into the darkness, oblivious to his surroundings. Soon, however, he heard the hooves of Eventide echoing against the rocks behind him. The horse was more like a pup than equine.

“Go home,” he shouted.

The hooves picked up their pace, and he soon felt a blow to his back—Eventide’s greeting when he was concerned for his master.

Ryce couldn’t stop from chuckling as he turned around and swatted Eventide. “You nuisance! I should trade you in for something more useful, like a donkey.”

The horse punched him in the gut with his head this time.

“What? Were you afraid your master would get lost so you followed me?” Ryce changed direction and headed back to the cottage in order to end the equine assault. “We’ll have to get rid of her as soon as possible. I can’t stand to look at her in that dress.”

The steed nickered as if he understood and gave Ryce another hit with his muzzle, knocking him off balance.

He slapped the horse. “Enough, Eventide.” To himself he added, “She will
not
complicate my life.”

By the time Ryce returned, he had regained his detached composure. There was no need to take it out on the girl. She had done nothing to deserve it. He opened the door to her frightened yelp.

“It is only I,” he stated calmly. Looking at her pale, gaunt face he realized how drained she was. Sympathy for the young woman pricked at his heart. He pulled out an old undershirt and handed it over to her. “It’s the best I can do for nightclothes. I will sleep in the barn. It is important that you remain warm and get plenty of rest.”

Before she could reply, he ripped a blanket off the bed and exited the cottage. The last thing he needed was the local community finding out he was housing Buchanan. The community here would not stomach the idea of a ‘Saxon’ taking advantage of one of their own, even if she was an abandoned waif.

He lay down in the hay and attempted to sleep, but his stomach growled loudly and would not quiet.
Tomorrow I hunt
, he promised himself.
Then I visit Avril and find a home for the girl.
He focused on that heartening thought until his eyes became heavy.

Just one more day…

Naughty Seamstress

He woke at the crack of dawn and headed out. In two hours he had killed four squirrels. Unlike the locals, Ryce had hundreds of years of hunting experience to draw upon. He gutted and skinned the animals and cooked one, tearing at it hungrily before heading back to the cottage. He found Buchanan dressed and waiting for him.

He avoided looking at the dress, choosing to stare directly into her eyes instead. “Did you sleep?”

“Aye, Master Leon.”

“Excellent. With fresh food in that belly, you should be yourself in no time. I will be out today. Cook the meat and eat what you can. I’ll see if I can’t conjure up some vegetables to go with the rest.” He held out the carcasses to her.

Buchanan hesitated.

“You
do
know how to cook.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded.

“Fine. I won’t be back until late. Sleep as much as you need, your body has a lot of recovering to do.”

He founded himself glancing over her briefly, and noted how the color of the gown complemented her hair. He found it irritating and snapped, “Be careful with that dress.”

Buchanan smoothed the soft material with her small hands in appreciation. “I will do my best, Master Leon.”

Jovita used to do that…

Ryce quelled the memory. “When I return I expect to have found you a permanent home.” He was surprised to see her eyes widen and tears started to emerge. There was going to be none of that! He grabbed his haversack of tools in a rush and left.

The sooner she is out, the better for both of us.
It unsettled him that she was acting as clingy as Eventide.

He made the trek to Avril’s small cottage on foot. It was not a long journey, although she was somewhat isolated from the community. From what he’d been told, she preferred it that way. Kegan had informed him that when Avril was a young girl, her family had been attacked by a band of rebels who’d left her for dead. Despite the unsightly scars on her face, she was a respected member of the community, well known for her cloth-making skills, but she remained unattached.

Ryce called out as he approached her home, not wanting to alarm her. He wasn’t sure she would consent to see him and was relieved when the door opened. He saw a look of recognition before she stepped out to greet her visitor.

The woman was long and lean. The sun shining on her milky skin brought out the natural rosiness in her cheeks. Truly a fine specimen of a woman, even with the deep scars on the right side of her face.

“Whit brings ye haur?” she asked, her lips slowly curling into a smile.

She must feel the connection
, he thought. This was going to be simpler than he anticipated. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Master Ryce Leon.”

“I ken of ye,” she said with a coy glance, sizing him up.

“I’ve been told you make exceptional cloth.”

“Aye.”

“Do you sew as well?”

“That I dae.”

He looked deep into her sparkling green eyes and suggested toyingly, “I am in need of your services.”

She pursed her lips in a seductive manner, but answered, “I cannae help ye.”

Ryce cocked his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused for a second before turning to leave, quite aware she was staring a hole into his back. He glanced back at her and nodded towards the barn. “I heard from Widow Kegan you have a horse that needs its hooves trimmed.”

“Aye, Bonnie could use a trim.”

“As pardon for disturbing you, may I offer
my
service?”

She attempted to hide her smile. “I suppose… She’ll kick if yer nae gentle.”

Ryce pulled out the tools from his sack and said smoothly, “No worries, lass, I know my way around a mare.” He added, “You can return to your work. I’ll leave when I’m finished.”

She stared at him for several minutes before stepping back into her home.

Yes, this is going to be easy.

Ryce spoke soothingly to the sorrel mare as he ran his hands over her. “That’s it, girl, I’m only here to help.” The mare’s ears twitched as she followed his voice. It wasn’t long until she willingly lifted her hoof to him so he could begin his work. “The clipping is simply noise, Bonnie. No need to fear it.”

By the time he’d moved to the second hoof, Avril had returned and was standing at the entrance of the barn. Ryce looked up and said in the same tone he used with the mare, “Do not take another step unless you want what I am offering.”

“How do I ken whit yer offerin’?”

He gave her a smirk before returning to the horse. He heard her move towards him, the hay making a rustling sound as her skirt dragged across it. She was apprehensive, he could feel it like a cloud around her.

“Stand to my right, and don’t move,” he ordered calmly.

Avril giggled self-consciously, but did his bidding. Soon she began critiquing his work. “You’re not doing it right. Don’t you see it’s uneven?”

Ryce looked up and stated simply, “Not another word, Avril. Otherwise, I will be forced to spank you.” He continued on with his work, knowing full well what was going to happen next.

“Spank me? Nae! Ah’m nea a bairn!”

Ryce smoothed out the rough edges of the hoof with the file without commenting.

“Don’t you see it’s uneven?” Avril blurted.

Ryce didn’t bother looking up, but shook his head in response.

When he finished with the last hoof, he spoke to her. “You are a naughty lass, and now your master must teach you a lesson.” He cleaned off his hands in a bucket of water and sat back down on the stool, motioning to her. “Lie across my knee.”

She looked at him warily, but moved towards him. “Yer nae goin’ to, ar ye?”

He said nothing, waiting patiently for her to submit.

With the timidity of a child, she lay across his muscular thighs.

Her obedience caused a stirring in his loins and he growled lustfully, “That’s good, Avril.” Ryce slowly pulled up her skirt to expose her round little ass.

Avril gasped softly when his hand began to caress her buttocks through the thin material of her undergarment. “Your master must punish your lack of respect, don’t you agree?”

“Aye,” she whispered.

He rubbed his hand against her ass, warming it up for her spanking. He liked to prolong the moment before the first swat. Avril squirmed seductively, obviously enjoying the tease and anticipation.

“No crying out, Avril. You might spook Bonnie.”

“Aye.”

He lifted his hand and let it fall resoundingly on her right cheek. She squealed softly. “Naughty lass.” He lifted his hand again and swatted the left cheek. This time she was quiet. “Much better, Avril.”

As reward he began to spank her repeatedly, causing her to squirm against his hardening cock. He stopped to admire her shapely ass. Ryce commented as he caressed it tenderly, “Lovely, simply lovely.”

He slipped his finger under the material and touched her moist outer lips. She froze when his fingers grazed her sensitive nodule. “Good lasses get rewarded, Avril.” He rubbed against it with greater intensity until he had her moaning and writhing, then he slowly sank his middle finger into her.

A tiny squeak escaped her lips and then she became stock-still. He explored her inner walls with his finger, pressing deeper. Although she was not a virgin, he could tell she had not been fingered by a man before and the thought excited him. To be a woman’s first with any activity heightened the experience.

He glided his finger over her moist walls, reaching for that swollen spot that would tease her to completion. He rolled his finger over the area and felt her muscles tighten in response. Ryce had her full attention now, so he pulled his finger out and swatted her ass again.

“Nae,” she complained.

“I decide what you need, Avril.” He pulled down the fabric to expose her naked bottom and then swatted the white skin resoundingly. The slapping sound, accompanied by the alluring way the flesh rolled in waves with each contact, aroused Ryce. It was a sensual contact for both the giver and the receiver when delivered correctly.

She moaned on his lap, rubbing herself purposely against his shaft. Again, he was grateful for the comfort and ease of the kilt. With the simple lift of material, he could have her. But he was not a gratuitous lover. He spanked her ass again, appreciating the deepening pink on her skin as her buttocks warmed to his touch.

Then he sought her sweetest spot with this finger. This time Avril cried out when he teased it. She was hot and swollen, ripe for climax. He began rubbing inside with the same motion as if he was taking her with his cock. Her body instantly responded by arching itself to meet him.
Such a greedy girl
, he thought, enjoying his power over her. He was almost tempted to pull his finger out to tease her further, but this being their first time he chose to be charitable. “Close your eyes and don’t move,” he commanded.

She instantly stopped squirming, but the moaning continued as he increased the pressure of his caress. There came that moment when her body tensed just before the release. She groaned as her inner muscles milked his hand and she covered it in her warm juices.

He pulled his finger out and then slapped her ass hard. She squealed in surprise, causing Bonnie to kick the wall of the barn.

“I told you not to spook her.”

She turned her head and smiled. “Ar ye goin’ to spank me?”

He gently replaced her undergarment back over her pink bottom, shaking his head with a smirk. “No, Avril. Now you must kiss my shaft.”

Her eyes became wide as saucers. Apparently she hadn’t experienced oral stimulation either. It was sadly amusing to think that because of misguided church mandates, the majority of couples fornicated using only one prescribed position, never knowing the limitless possibilities at their fingertips.

Well, there’s a first time for everything.

“On your knees.”

She slowly lifted herself off his lap. He opened his legs and she settled between his masculine thighs. “Lift the kilt,” he ordered.

She cautiously lifted the heavy material, and looked up at him shyly when she saw how erect he was.

He went to caress her scarred cheek, but she turned away. “No, Avril. Do not be ashamed. I find your scars beautiful.”

Avril looked up at him with doubt. She closed her eyes and allowed him to touch her face. He gently traced the scars on her right cheek and then the smooth skin on her left. “Both equally beautiful in their own way. You are a survivor. I admire that.”

“Thank ye, Master.”

He smiled. She’d called him Master on her own. Ryce watched as Avril leaned forward and kissed the head of his manhood with her pink lips. His cock responded by twitching.

She jumped back in surprise and then giggled.

“Kiss it again,” he said huskily.

Avril took his cock in one hand and pressed her lips against it again. He felt his balls squeeze up tight, wanting to release inside her mouth.

“Lick it,” he insisted.

She obediently stuck her tongue out and licked the head of his cock once.