The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) (25 page)

“Do not dare stop now.” She groaned.

He thrust his hips against her, gasping at the exquisite pleasure of her tightness. “Oh, God, Iseabail, ye are so tight.”

She held her breath then exhaled slowly. “Please.”

Picking up his head, he gazed down into the face of love. His Iseabail. Watching her, he slowly moved his hips, his cock seeming to swell with each joyous sensation. She smiled in return until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She moaned when he thrust into her, filling her womb. He dropped his head and reveled in the feeling. To have been so long without this release, he felt like he could go on forever.

Iseabail gasped and groaned his name. Seumas quickly discovered how short forever actually was. He pumped into her throbbing depths until he too cried out in sweet release.

The morning fog blew in from the ocean, enshrouding even the outside air in a misty blanket. Seumas snuggled closer to Iseabail, his cold feet making her shiver. She sighed. She was at peace. From his cold feet to his expressive blue eyes, there was nothing she did not like about him. And the way he loved her. Throughout the night, he had taken her again and again. She could not get enough of him, and the tremendous surge he sent through her body when he made love to her. She had cried out more times than she knew.

He wrapped his hand around her breast and pulled her back up against him. He nibbled her shoulder and made his way to her ear.

“Are ye feigning sleep to get some rest?” His voice was husky with desire.

“Why would I ever do that?” She pushed her bum against his erection, encouraging his advances. “I would like nothing better than to be pleasured by my husband.”

He groaned, turning his face into her neck. “I love that ye say what is on yer mind. It makes me burn to be inside ye again. Are ye not sore then?”

“Not a bit.”

He worked his hand down the length of her body, stopping to stroke each nipple into a hard bud, before slipping between her thighs. “Mmm, ye are ready for me again.”

He urged her onto her stomach and spread her legs. This was new, but Iseabail did not worry. Her husband was a considerate lover and would not do anything that was not pleasing to her.

He covered her, licking her earlobe again. “Will I ever not find ye so?”

He wrapped his arm around her middle and adjusted her to accommodate his hard shaft. He slipped into her softness.

“Mmm.”

“That is the answer I want.” His low voice resonated through her, his passion all-consuming. He moved slowly at first, giving her a chance to get used to this new position. Keeping his hands around her, he rubbed against her nub and increasing her pleasure.

Her groan started deep inside, and she could not stop it.

Seumas whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “Let me hear ye cry out yer pleasure.”

She did moan her pleasure. He rode her harder, and her desire built as well, clenching her insides as she reached for that peak.

He grasped her hips and yanked her toward him. She cried out in ecstasy as he plowed her, adjusting her so she, too, could find release. He joined her and collapsed in utter exhaustion.

“I have found my home,” Seumas said under his breath as he lay beside her, pulling her to settle within his arms. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

I have found my home.

Had he meant to say that out loud? Tears filled Iseabail’s eyes. She nuzzled his chest, laying a kiss in the downy hair that grew there. “I have found my home, too.”

She snuggled down to sleep.

By mid-afternoon, their hunger necessitated leaving their cocoon. Seumas draped his kilt around him and his gaze traveled over her nakedness as she lay spread across the bed, no longer even a little shy.

“Ye are a hard thing to leave, my love.” He leaned down to kiss her. “I will return.”

When he opened the door to the hall, Seumas’s laughter echoed back into the room. Iseabail went quickly, a blanket wrapped around her bare body, to see what he found so humorous. The table in the hall was now covered with every type of food they could imagine—pheasant, duck, deer, elk, and, of course, all different types of fish. For drink they had mead, wine, and beer to choose from. Iseabail also started to laugh.

“Methinks they were providing for us to hibernate the long winter here.” He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. “As well I might.”

“They do think much of your stamina, m’lord,” she added, suppressing her smile.

“Have ye any complaints?”

“Oh, no.” She turned away slightly. “I do not have the experience to have complaints.”

Scooping her up, he tossed her on to the bed, uncovering her like a hidden treasure.

His gaze devoured her, the heat of his passion lighting their depths. “Ye will never have need of complaint.”

They sat on their bed naked, food spread before them, and talked of their future plans.

“I had hoped to bring ye to my family’s farm. What say ye?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Ye will not miss yer own homeland?”

She lowered her eyes. “I have no one there. I have no need to be there any longer.”

Unshed tears balanced on her lashes when she looked up again. Seumas hugged her to him as if trying to wipe away all the bad. She knew she could be happy now.

“Then it is decided. We will continue onto
Tioram Castle so I can swear my allegiance, introduce ye to Lord MacDonell, and get his blessing. Then we can go to my father’s land and see about setting up our home… Does that not sound wonderful?
Our
home?”

“Wherever you are is my home. It is the way it should be. I do not take my vows last night lightly.”

“Nor do I. We will be happy.”

She dipped her head in agreement. “So when should we leave?”

She had so many questions. Seumas patiently answered them, willingly appeasing her curiosity. Another wonderful trait. It was decided they would leave in two days’ time.

When they finally emerged from their self-imposed exile the next morning, they were greeted with bright smiles and jests about how short a time they had spent in seclusion.

“I was thinking we would not see you for a fortnight, Seumas.” Brother Matthew slapped his back as he spoke. “I thought you had more in you.”

Brother Timothy spoke of St. Paul’s advice to abstain from ribald comments. His face was serious when he looked at Iseabail. “Are you happy anyway?”

After a moment’s silence, they all burst into laughter, including Iseabail.

“I am
more
than satisfied with my marriage, Brother Timothy and Brother Matthew. But thank you for your concern.” She winked at Seumas, and the monks erupted into another fit of laughter.

Brother James burst into the room, interrupting the camaraderie. He was gasping for breath as if he had run a far distance, and his eyes were huge with fear. Everyone jumped to their feet, waiting to learn the cause of his distress.

He said, “Little Bessie is missing.”

Brother Timothy was grabbing the cloak that hung beside the door in an instant. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Iseabail was concerned for Bessie and wondered just how little she was. “Is there anything I can do to help find her?”

Seumas took her hand as she stood.

“It will be seen to, Iseabail.” She was surprised at his lack of concern. “Little Bessie is a sheep.”

Iseabail exhaled, settling next to Seumas again. They watched as the shepherds prepared to find their lost sheep. If she had fallen down one of the steep cliffs that ran alone the coast, it would be very hard to find, and if she had fallen onto her back, she would never be able to turn herself onto her feet. Sheep needed their shepherd.

“Did you call to her?” Brother Timothy asked.

“I believe it is your voice she will respond to,” Brother James answered.

Brother Timothy nodded and the room was quickly emptied. Seumas and Iseabail were left to their own devices.

“Do you think they will find her?” Iseabail watched him as he thought about his answer. His handsome face was slightly red from his trip in the boat with Brother Matthew so that his blue eyes seemed even more pronounced.

“A good shepherd knows how to tend to his sheep.” She saw him look at her with sincerity. “They will do all they can for Little Bessie and will not return until they find her.”

“That is a tall order. There is a lot of land to cover.”

“True, but they will work together, methodically, so that they cover the whole area until they find their lost sheep. It is the way with every shepherd. Come, let us prepare for our departure so that we can leave at daybreak. I am anxious for ye to see my home.” Seumas looked as if he had just thought of something. “I am finally anxious myself to see it.” He turned his gaze on her. “And ye are the reason for that.” She reached up to kiss him, and he unexpectedly pulled her to him. “Have I told ye that I love ye?”

“I believe you have implied it, m’lord.”

He nuzzled her neck with his bearded face. “Let me do more than that now.” He led her to the stairs and they ascended two at a time. She was winded by the time they reached their room, laughing between big gasps for air.

*****

The next morning, among tears and farewells and with all sheep accounted for, Seumas and Iseabail continued north to the Castle of Tioram at Loch Moidart. He explained that as one of the men who farmed on the land belonging to the castle, Seumas had been trained in warfare and was expected to bring his bride to the Lord MacDonell’s castle, if not for approval then to at least allow him to give his blessing.

Iseabail was not bothered overmuch by this, but she was looking forward to seeing the farm he had been raised on. He said it had been in his family for seven generations. They had lived through Viking raids from the coast and pestilence from the interior. He assured her he came from strong stock, and proved it to her each night when he made love to her as if it were their last time. He told her it was because he never wanted to take anything for granted.

“Why are we stopping here?” Iseabail looked out over the hill below and saw the ocean far off but nothing else. “Oh, for the beautiful view? It is breathtaking.”

“See the little inlet right...there?” Seumas leaned in close as if to see it from her eyes, and pointed.

She nodded.

“That is where my father’s house…our house sits.”

They turned toward each other and knew the excitement of starting anew with all the bad behind and a grand adventure just ahead.

“Race ye.” Seumas spurred his horse to a run and actually had to pull back when the animal caught wind of its home. Iseabail barely had a chance to keep up.

By the time she reached Seumas, she found him a few hundred yards from a small house with a thatched roof.

“What are you doing? Why have you stopped?”

“Someone is here.”

“What do you mean?” She looked around. The fields had been planted and harvested. Repair work had been done to the barn behind the house rather recently, judging by the light-colored thatch. As she looked on, a man came out of the house and headed toward the well with a bucket in hand.

Seumas sucked in air as if not believing what he was seeing.

“Who is it, Seumas?” Iseabail shielded her eyes from the bright sun but could make out nothing else.

“I do not believe the audacity—” Seumas put heels to the horse and galloped to a halt beside the startled man, who dropped his bucket at Seumas’s advance.

“Well, who is this?” Seumas’s voice was piercing as he jumped off his horse, his dagger in hand, and walked right up to the man. “Tell me what ye are doing on my property, or I will run ye through right here!”

Iseabail was shocked at what she heard. Seumas’s blade was balanced in the palm of his hand and held a hair’s breadth from the man’s heart.

“Seumas? Is it really you?” The other man’s voice broke and huge tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked Seumas up and down as if to test what he was seeing. “I cannot believe it is really you.”

With open arms he approached Seumas, who stepped back, dagger still at the ready.

“Answer my questions, Giles.”

Iseabail’s eyes flew back to the little man. She could scarce believe this was Seumas’s best friend, Giles. Seumas had told her about his time on the pilgrimage to the Holy Land and especially about his trust in his best friend, which had turned out to be badly misplaced. The man before them was a coward.

“I am sorry. I had nowhere else to go.” His hesitancy in speaking did not sit right with Iseabail. He did not come off as the pompous arse Seumas had described to her.

“What do I care? This is my land and my house. Get out,” Seumas said with finality and returned to Iseabail to help her down, his dagger still available but now tucked at his waist. “I am very sorry about this. I had no idea the place had been infiltrated by vermin.”

Iseabail did not answer but glanced at Giles to see that Seumas’s barb had had the intended effect. The man’s shoulders bowed even more.

When Giles remained in the same spot, Seumas put her behind him and drew his sword from the saddle of his horse. “What are ye waiting for? Would ye prefer I run ye through right here?”

“I would, Seumas. It would put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, ye have misery now, do ye?” Seumas answered skeptically, his sword pointed at the man. “I do not care. Get off my land…now!”

The tightness in his voice gave Iseabail pause. His lips were pressed together with such violence that his chin dimpled, his lips dipped down, and his nostrils flared in his rage. The look on her husband’s face was one she hoped to never see again. She waited to see if the man was moving, or if she were about to witness a murder in her new home.

“Hear me, Seumas, I beg of you.” The man fell to his knees. “I have no place else to go. I am sorry…you have no idea how sorry. Mercy. Please, show me mercy.”