The Devil of Jedburgh (25 page)

“I don’t understand.”

“Finally, the first sensible thing you’ve said.” He waved a hand at the door. “Be sure she knows those weeds of yours are a hoax and not worth the risk.”

Magellan stayed exactly where she was and stared up at his dark face. “The Lady Lillian has been taking my herbs for nineteen years. Breghan is her last born child. If you can count, then you have your proof.”

That was the last answer Arran wanted.

Breghan was like a disease in his blood. He’d lied when he’d said he was afraid of nothing. He feared the need that grew inside him like a coiled snake primed to spit. Every day he spent with Breghan lured him deeper, he’d never have his full. The only impossible surety was that when the time came, he would let her go. He was no saint. He’d decided to risk a woman’s life the moment he’d decided to take a wife. But from the beginning, he’d known that life would never be Breghan’s.

“Was there anything more, laird?” Magellan asked.

“Get out,” he said hoarsely. He gritted his teeth and renewed his determination.
I don’t care what the witch proclaims, I will not risk it.

After supper that night, he rode into Jedburgh with Broderick. The rain had let up, but the night was bitterly cold and the roads were muddy streams. They were splattered from the thigh down by the time they tied their horses outside the Jug’s Head.

Inside, small fires banked the walls to warm the many crooks and corners. Thanks to the foul weather and impassable roads, the place was half empty. Arran went straight to a table tucked in a cove close to the bar counter and raised his hand to be served.

Broderick lowered his bulk into the opposite chair. They were immediately approached by a couple of the tavern’s usual lasses.

“I’ve just spotted my entertainment for the evening,” Broderick said, standing to pull the voluptuous redhead up against him. “That’s if you weren’t expecting me to keep you company?”

“I can drink well enough for two,” Arran told him with a grin.

The second woman fluttered painted eyelids at Arran as she slid her plump bottom onto his lap. Her blond hair curled almost to the floor. She walked her fingers up his arm, giggling as she peered up at Broderick. “I’ll take good care o’ your friend.”

Arran gave a jerk with his chin to send Broderick off, then turned his attention to the woman. She drew one leg up against his thigh and adjusted her position so she straddled him, her skirts tucked up and her bared centre riding over the crotch of his breeches. Her bodice was cut low and tight, only just covering her nipples and pushing out the swell of her breasts.

She wiggled her bottom, glancing up at him through lowered lashes as she slowly licked her lips with a suggestive tongue. “Have you missed me, Arran?”

His shaft started to fill and lengthen with pleasurable anticipation. This wasn’t the first time he’d been with Nellie. His body knew all about the wicked delights to come.

“I’ve missed being with a woman,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to her heavily endowed chest. Breghan’s breasts were smaller, firmer, fitting within the palm of his hand. His blood thickened as he thought of how exotically responsive those small breasts were to his touch, her pebbled nipples pulling long and taut, as if reaching for him, when he curled his tongue around them.

Nellie cupped one hand beneath each breast and wobbled the soft mounds until a nipple popped out provocatively over the top of her bodice. Arousal pumped to his groin and he was instantly hard. He’d been without a woman too long. His thoughts and senses and wants had been filled with Breghan every waking moment, every dreaming moment.

Any woman would do.

He brought his head down and opened his mouth over that exposed nipple, sucking and licking. His hands went around to her bottom cheeks, caressing and moulding, controlling her rhythm as she slid back and forth over his throbbing bulge. Desire built in a cascading wave of heat that rolled over him.

And everything was wrong.

He felt stupid for even thinking there was no heart and soul in what they were doing. He was hard with lust, ready for a woman’s body. He was fully aroused, but he was more responsible for that than Nellie. In his mind, he saw raven-black hair flowing as straight as silk and blue eyes stormy with desire rolling over the undercurrents of softer, sweeter emotion. He was mastering his own pleasure and the fact that Nellie’s core rubbed over him instead of his own hand was irrelevant circumstance.

His lips pulled free as he raised his head to look into Nellie’s brown eyes. He craved the release he could find here, but too much was missing.

It was Breghan’s breathless sighs and urgent cries that carried him further and higher than he’d ever imagined possible. He couldn’t erase the memory of her slender curves beneath his hands, the way she moved with him, clinging to him as desire seared their bodies beneath the seam to make them one in heart, soul, mind and flesh.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Nellie invited in a husky voice.

“I’m sorry.” He pushed Nellie from his lap. He’d thought this was the way to keep his lust in check and Breghan’s faith in him to remain honourable to her wishes. Instead it felt as if he were betraying the both of them.

“But I thought—”

“
I
was mistaken,” he said firmly, smiling to soften the words. Nellie wasn’t to blame.

She popped her breasts back into her bodice and tilted her head at him. “Perhaps another time.”

Arran shrugged. His nod was barely perceptible. There’d be a time again, he knew, when he’d have need of such services. When it no longer mattered that his fulfilment didn’t last beyond the act, when there was naught to be done about it. When he’d forget there was ever more than the animal pleasure that had kept him well content until Breghan had come into his life.

As soon as he was alone, the tavern owner sauntered over with a jug of bitter ale. “If our Nellie’s no to your liking, I can arrange someone else.”

Arran took the ale and shook his head. “Bring another jug,” he said. “Make it whiskey this time round.”

“You woke me up when you came staggering home,” Breghan informed him coolly. She slid from the bed, bringing the covers with her to wrap around her thin shift.

Arran pushed from the doorway and came inside. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You stumbled into my room and almost into my bed, breathing out enough whiskey fumes to intoxicate me in my sleep.”

“If I’d known you were awake—”

“You’d have passed out here instead of on your own floor.”

“Fair enough.” Arran chuckled. “I was in no state for decent company last night.”

“You’d already overindulged in indecent company?” she whipped back at him. Her eyes flashed anger before she spun around and yanked aside the curtain to let in the weak morning sun. “My goodness!”

“What is it?” He hurried over to look down below. The vaguely familiar redhead had stopped every man in the bailey dead as she walked across the cobbled courtyard toward the entrance steps.

Arran pushed the window open and leaned out for a better look. “Good God, is that Crawley’s daughter?” He pulled his head inside to cock a brow at Breghan. “What is Allison Crawley’s daughter doing here?”

“I think…” Breghan tipped her gaze out the window again. “I think she’s going to be my new lady’s maid.”

“You already have one.”

“Now I’ll have two.” She shook her head, still peering down. “I can’t believe Janet actually came.”

The surprise and awe in her voice put Arran on alert. “You asked her here?”

But Breghan’s attention was below. “Her beauty and grace has turned every single one of your men’s heads. It’s quite amazing.”

“Not so amazing,” Arran drawled. “She is exquisite.”

“Yes, yes she is.” She turned to him, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I pale by comparison.”

He’d wager his entire stable she wasn’t fishing for a compliment. “You have that gleam in your eye that means you’re up to your elbows in another reckless scheme.”

“I’m simply curious,” she stated with a smile. “Take another look at her.”

“Why?” he questioned, his gaze sliding down to the bailey anyway.

“Wouldn’t she be far more pleasing to you in bed than me?”

Every muscle in Arran’s face froze.

“I truly hope, for your sake,” he pushed out through grit teeth, “you’re not offering that lass in your place. Is that why you brought her here?” Talking warmed his muscles again, or maybe that was fury boiling his blood. He snapped his eyes to her. “I wouldna know how things are done at Donague, but here there are some tasks that canna be shipped out to a maid. Your duty as my wife is one of them.”

Breghan put her hand tentatively on his arm. “I wasn’t suggesting you take her to bed.”

“Weren’t you?” Arran growled, and she immediately dropped her hand and took a step back. He came with her, folded a hand over each of her wrists and walked her further back until she was up against the wall.

“Very well.” She dropped her gaze to his chest. Her tongue came out to wet her lower lip. “Perhaps the thought did cross my mind.”

He had no idea what he intended to do. All he could think about was the way he’d pushed Nellie from his lap, imagining some higher connection between him and Breghan that couldn’t be betrayed. The restraint he’d employed through long nights, every inch of his body aware that she was in the adjacent chamber and his for the taking in the name of God and queen.

He brought her hands up, pressed them flat against the wall above her head.

“Arran, wait,” she gasped as the blanket fell from her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to…”

Arran over spoke her quiet pleading, “I don’t care if you order Venus down from skies above, I will have no one but you.” He linked her wrists together in one hand to free his other to come down, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “You can parade a line of the world’s most beautiful women in front of me, and still I’d want you. Only you.”

He moved the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, his gaze burning into her wide eyes. He could hear the barely contained fury in his voice, knew he was straining close to the edge, knew he was a complete and utter fool, and still he couldn’t seem to stop his fingers gliding down the satin curve of her throat.

He couldn’t keep the truth spilling from his lips with a gentle burr when his voice should have been frosted over from the block of ice that was her heart. “In this, you don’t get to choose.”

She struggled within his grasp and he released her wrists, expecting her to hit out against his chest. Instead, she cupped her palm to his jaw and looked into his eyes with deep, stormy longing.

Arran pulled up both her shift and his plaid, then he put his hands on her waist, grinding his lower body against her as he lifted her up along the wall until their hips were level. “Put your legs around me,” he commanded in a tone that even she wouldn’t dare refuse.

She complied on a softly uttered sigh, opening herself wide as she clamped her legs around his hips. The tip of his shaft probed and reared stiff in a swollen mass of nerve endings when he found her wet and slick. He moved his hands to her bottom, guiding her around his rigid shaft until he was seated to the hilt.

Her eyes closed and her breasts heaved with short breaths. He knew the angle at which he’d entered her would enhance every movement, so he took care to hold still inside her. He applied pressure to her bottom, pressing her to him in a slow, circular motion that rubbed ecstasy into the pearl of her mound. Her arms came around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair as she gave small cries.

“Open your eyes, Bree.” He clenched his jaw against the need to plunge deep inside her until he spent, right here and now. “Look at me.”

“Arran, please…” Her lids fluttered open. The blue of her eyes was a dark, swirling pool. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and trembling. “Please, I want… I can’t…”

She pulsed and throbbed around him, on the brink of sweet release.

He pulled out halfway, his firm control on her bottom keeping her from writhing closer to resume the circular pressure. After a few long minutes, the pulsing grew faint, her breaths less shallow.

She looked into his eyes, some of that passion replaced with hurt accusation. “Please, Arran, don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he rasped.

“Don’t stop.” Her hands moved over his back, scraping and clawing, trying to wedge herself closer. The friction along his shaft was tight and hot, threatening to expel his seed. “This is a cruel punishment, even for you.”

His laugh was a raw grunt. That was exactly the problem. She was a cold-hearted bitch, offering another woman to take her place when he’d being going out of his mind with want for her, for Bree and no one else, making bargains with himself and the devil that would ensure a hot seat for him in hell. But he could never punish her. He could never hurt her. He needed her faith, her trust, her willingness—he needed her all as much as he needed her body.

“You belong to me, Bree.” He brought his head down to her chest, ripped the thin material with his teeth and closed his mouth over one breast.

She screamed out as he plunged deep inside her again and stayed there, grinding her into the wall as he tasted his way up her throat and claimed her lips. In between kisses, he demanded, “Don’t ever again think I’ll accept a substitute.” He grazed her lower lip with his teeth, then slipped his tongue inside and explored his full. “I dinna give a damn if you can take or leave this without a moment’s consideration, I willna have anyone else for as long as I can have you.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she whispered against his lips. “I don’t want you to have anyone else.”

Arran pulled his mouth from hers so he could look into her eyes as he started moving inside her with slow, measured strokes. He pressed his fingers into the soft cheeks of her bottom, crushing her core up against him with each thrust.

Her eyes kept closing, then opening again, her mouth moving against his jaw as she used her grasp around his back to pull herself close to him. “You said male and female bodies were designed to pleasure each other—Oh, God, yes, yes…”