A Lady's Vengeance Read online

  How could she expect Cormac and James to love her when they’d never experienced it? And if they did grow to love her, how would she know?

  You love them, and they care for you and treat you well.

  She would be content with that. After all, she could enjoy using them in return. In addition to enjoying their company she lusted after their bodies with a fierceness that left her breathless. Being married provided her with more freedom than she’d known, as they did not want to cage her the way her father had. Her life was what she made of it, and she would not let a lack of something impossible hold her back. She had chosen the MacDougals and would not complain. Words, and lies, were easily spoken. She would watch for their actions to find proof of their desire for her.

  She moved slightly, just enough to put pressure on the hard cock pressing against the back of her gown. Cormac hissed, clamping his fingers tightly over her shoulders. He desired her, all right. And soon he would be filling her, proving it.

  “Actually,” said James, interrupting her thoughts, “Cormac promised to be faithfully loving and caring and Alana promised to obey, serving and being submissive to him.”

  “Thank ye, brother,” said Cormac heartily. “‘Tis e’en better.” He released her, strolling back to his spot at the bunk. “Time to submit, wife. Ye will serve me with yer body.” He patted the blanket, smirking. “Face down, skirts up, arse out.”

  Cormac was going to spank her, no doubt about it. He would then give her at least one orgasm. She could give in and obey meekly, or fight and make them work for it. Either way she was going to have a sore bottom tonight. They had plenty of time to play today. None knew what the morrow would bring. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders.

  “Nay.”

  Chapter Two

  Cormac wasn’t surprised when Alana refused. She’d been fidgety all day, no doubt worried about facing her father. He had a cure for that, and for his own concerns. There was little he could do on the ship to use up energy. A good bout of play followed by a few orgasms would help them all.

  He eyed his wife. She stared defiantly back.

  Laird Fraser had given Alana too much freedom. Thinking she’d be unmarried all her life, he’d allowed her free reign in his library. He’d also let her ride astride and do other things unseemly for women. Cormac was glad she could ride well, but now she was his wife. A man thought differently about a woman when he was married to her. It was his responsibility to protect and provide for her, and their family.

  He liked being married to Alana. She challenged him, made him think, and gave him pleasure. Lots and lots of pleasure. As a consequence she was carrying their babe. Her father better approve of their marriage. If not, they would fight to the death for the right to protect her. If he and James were killed, or the marriage annulled, she would be forced to marry… No, he couldn’t think of that.

  Instead, he thought of his wife’s smooth arse. A white arse that would soon be turning pink under his hand. He liked that his wee wife was feisty. It made him wonder what was behind the blue eyes now glaring at him. He noted her fury, along with the nipples pushing out her light gown. He and James had refused to let her wear anything under it but skin while on the ship.

  He picked up his belt. Knowing she watched, he ran his fingers over it before folding it in half. Taking it in both hands he made it snap. The sound cracked through the small cabin. Alana jumped, yet her breasts rose and fell so rapidly that if she leaned forward they might fall out.

  “Are ye packed for the morn?” he asked softly, seeking to keep his attention on his belt.

  “You know I am,” she replied, her voice rough. She cleared her throat.

  “Plannin’ to wear that dress, are ye?”

  She narrowed her eyes, thinking of why he’d asked it. “Aye?”

  “Then ’tis best ye take it off afore I rip if from yer wee body.”

  He stabbed her with his eyes. They were playing a game, and yet not. He was her husband. No matter how much he respected her mind and abilities, under law she was his property and his responsibility. He couldn’t keep her safe if he couldn’t trust she would follow his orders.

  “I do not find that amusing,” she replied.

  “Good. ’Twasn’t meant to be.”

  They’d met Alana when she was a wee child of five. They were nine and ten when they arrived to be fostered with the Earl of Caithness. Having fourteen brothers either side of them and few females at Duncladach, a bright, inquisitive lassie was a delight to them. Her mother was dead and her father uncaring as long as she didn’t come to his attention. They’d protected and guided her, teaching her what they knew. They were bastards from a clan so poor their laird had to foster them out to ensure the ones left at home might not starve. Alana had looked up to them as if they were heroes. Her bright, eager smiles and hugs brought the first rays of joy to their miserable lives.

  That changed when she returned from learning to be a lady. She’d flirted with them, demanding kisses though she had little idea what would follow. They had no right to look at the daughter of the Earl of Caithness with desire. For her sake, and theirs, they’d taken their leave from the earl and returned to Duncladach.

  Ten years passed before Alana, now a dowerless woman, unable to be wed after seducing her engaged cousin, had asked them to save her from a horrendous marriage. They didn’t care about her age as her ability to conceive was quickly proven. As for the dowry, it mattered not. As long as Alana was theirs, they could put up with living in Castle Girnigoe with her father.

  Of course, first the earl had to agree to let them live even though they’d married his precious daughter without permission. They had no marriage contract, only the knowledge that a priest had said vows over them. Each day with Alana, each moment, was precious. And she was stalling.

  “James, help our wife keep her balance as she disrobes. I dinna wish her to fall and bruise her tender skin.”

  “The tender skin you’re about to blister with yon belt?” she shot back.

  She had fear, not of him but of what others had done to her. She had good reason not to trust those who should care for her. She was learning he was not one of them. He’d said he’d use his belt on her so would follow through. She had to learn he did what he said, even if she didn’t like the result. He would spank her to warm her skin, then apply the belt, just enough to make a sting. By then she would feel it as arousing and not fear his use of it in the future.

  He put on his plaid and tied his belt around it. Her hunched shoulders relaxed. He pulled the blanket off the bunk and pointed in silent command.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

  “Ye insulted me in front of the crew.”

  “How?”

  “By sayin’ I couldna do what a man does to protect his wife.”

  She gaped at him, exaggerating her reaction. “Protect? You mean to hit me!”

  “Nay, lass. Never hit or beat. But spank and punish? Aye. Ye need to learn yer place.”

  “My place? And where is that?”

  Laird MacKenzie had warned them this would happen. A strong woman, one who’d been allowed to think for herself, did not want to give up the reins. Only by conquering her, repeatedly, would she feel safe. He did not want to curb her spirit, but to channel it. Alana could be as feisty as she chose in private, disagreeing and talking back and more, either serious or as part of their games.

  It was different in public.

  It was Cormac’s responsibility as her husband to protect her from all dangers, including herself. That was why she had to obey him. A man was judged by his wife as well as by his own actions. He would not be respected if he could not keep Alana in line. And if he was not respected she would be in danger. Having lived a protected life at Lovat Castle Alana wouldn’t know that base men preyed on the wives of those they did not respect, earl’s daughter or not.

  He had not explained this to her while they’d visited Castle Leod. No one would harm her as they
feared the wrath of Laird MacKenzie. It would be far different in Caithness. MacKenzie was hard, but fair. The earl was brutal and acted on the whim of the moment. He wanted Alana married to her cousin William, the one man who terrified her.

  A husband had the legal right to beat, starve, and abuse his wife as long as there was no evidence he’d killed her. William had already buried two wives from what had been called accidents. He and James would do anything to make sure Alana was not the third.

  Her terror of William was likely the only reason she’d married them. He’d accepted it, wanting her no matter the reason. That terrible wanting gave her a power over him, one he couldn’t let her discover. If William was no longer a threat Alana could petition for divorce. Cormac could not see living without Alana, or the child growing in her belly.

  Alana was an intelligent, educated woman far above their station. She was a strong woman, and needed a stronger man as her master. He had to be that man, which meant she must respect him, believe he would always do what he said, and be strong enough inside that she would choose to submit to him. That, and making her scream with pleasure, would keep her near.

  As long as she didn’t discover how much he cared for her.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  She crossed her arms and gave him a haughty look, as if she was the queen and he a dung-covered peasant. She’d done the same to him the night before they left Girnigoe Castle ten years ago. Then, he’d had to slink away. It was different now. She needed to see if he would stand up to her challenge. He could not force her to do anything. He had to show her his true power, one that had little to do with his physical size. She had to believe he would do whatever he said. Only then could she truly trust him. And only then would she submit.

  He stared at her, showing his confidence and determination to win no matter the cost. She finally looked away, licking her lips.

  “Yer place is at my side, wife,” he said with a deep growl. “And anywhere else I wish ye to be. Right now ’tis face down o’er my lap with yer arsehole winkin’ up at me.”

  She inhaled a gasp, but not in fear. Her nostrils flared, the pulse pounded in her neck, and her ragged breaths filled the cabin. She’d caught the lure. It was time to gently reel her in. He sat on the bunk, in the middle so she would have room to lie over his lap. He held out his hand, asking rather than demanding.

  “Come, lass. Best get it over with. Ye dinna wish to miss yer supper.”

  Alana tossed her head like a filly trying to catch the eye of the herd’s stallion while pretending to run. If she had a tail she’d be waving it, keeping it high so he could easily mount her. She’d get her wish, and his, after her punishment.

  “Ha!” she replied. “’Tis you who wish to stuff yourself. You’re always hungry!”

  He nodded, slow and sure. “For food, and for yer pussy. Ye’ll be spanked afore ye eat, but if ye linger ye’ll nay have time to enjoy my cock stuffin’ ye full ‘till ye scream. That’s what ye’re hankering for, aye?”

  “I willna be the only one going without.”

  “Nay,” replied Cormac. “We’re both so hard we’ll come fast if we dinna care about ye peaking first.”

  James, cock bobbing as he rolled with the motion of the ship, strolled beside her. He held his hand out for her gown. She sneered at him.

  “Remove it, or I’ll rip it off,” said James. His quiet, calm voice did not match the look on his face.

  Though her eyes flashed with defiance, her desire was obvious. One last glare, and she raised her gown. While her head was covered she muttered something that, had Cormac understood, would no doubt have doubled her punishment. James took her gown and set it aside. She brazenly stood there, daring him to look away. All she wore was a set of pearls wrapped around her neck. Her breasts were fuller due to the babe, blue lines marking white flesh. Her waist had thickened, and her arse was broad enough to fill his palms. She’d lost weight while puking her guts up for the babe, but it was now coming back, and more.

  A hunger for far more than her body filled him. He wasn’t a praying man, yet he’d fallen to his knees in the MacKenzie chapel begging God that someday Alana would want him for more than a means to escape a worse situation.

  She shifted her balance, capturing their attention. Alana knew little about fighting. She had no idea they could tell by her muscles the moment she decided to run. James caught her before she’d taken a step. He held her at arm’s length by her biceps and guided her toward Cormac. She screeched, of course. They got her face down over his lap, her head at his left. James covered her legs with the blanket, wrapping them so she couldn’t kick.

  Keeping her back down with his left hand, Cormac applied his right palm to her arse. He ignored her wails, quickly alternating from one cheek to the other and back again. After ten he rested, using his hand to delve between her thighs. As expected, she was wet. He rubbed her cheeks, soothing her.

  “Hand me yer belt, James.”

  She tensed under him but didn’t speak. He folded the leather, drawing it slowly over her skin. He took his time, waiting for her to relax. When she did he rewarded her with a finger massaging her tight hole. He kept his finger there and dropped his thumb into her pussy. He aroused her for a bit before tapping the belt lightly on her pink arse.

  “I told ye I’d give you the belt, and I always do what I say. ‘Twas this what ye were afraid of?” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead on the bunk. “When I say sommat I speak true. But ye may not ken what I mean so ye must trust me.”

  He tapped a bit harder. She tightened her cheeks, making mounds that fit his hands well. He handed the belt back to James and massaged her, one hand on each. She mewed her discontent with having his fingers gone.

  “If ye defy me in front of yer father and his men ye’ll be disgraced as much as us,” he said calmly. She said nothing, which he hoped meant she was listening. “‘Tis best ye ken the truth of men. If a wife doesna respect her husband by obeying him, then no other man will respect his possession of her.” He patted her sore cheeks lightly. “By punishing ye with a spanking we prove that we care for ye, and that any man who touches ye will die by our hand.”

  He delved between her legs again. She squirmed, clenching his hand with her thighs.

  “Girnigoe is big, with many strangers,” he continued. “If yer father allows us to be yer husbands he may send us far away to do his bidding. We may be gone from ye for weeks. If ye’ve shown disobedience a man may think we dinna care about ye. He might take what isn’t his, and not care that ye call rape.” He reached farther between her legs to massage her clit. She relaxed her thighs, moaning when he found it.

  “Ye belong to me and James, Alana. I dinna wish ye to forget that. Ye are our wife and the mother of our babe.”

  “And a good chess player,” added James. He brushed the hair off her face, smiling gently down at her. “You have a brain and understand strategy. Use it. Aye, we enjoy spanking you, and filling you with our cocks. But know that it is Alana Sinclair we choose to spank and fill, not just any woman. We’ll not seek another’s bed, when you are in ours.”

  Cormac agreed with James, though he’d never have been able to put those words together. Nor could he spend hours playing that fancy chess set Lady Janet Fraser had given James. She'd cried when she saw it, knowing it meant the Frasers cared about her. Then she and James had to figure out the way to open it. He'd gotten frustrated standing there so had taken a turn working on deck with the men.

  She was quiet as he continued stroking her, slow circles from her neck to her thighs and back again.

  “The earl never uses my name,” she whispered. As she was facedown, forehead resting on her folded arms, he had to listen closely. “He calls me lass or daughter because I am his possession and naught more. Sometimes I doubt he kens my name.”

  “Your father is an arrogant bully,” said James. “A very powerful, wealthy bully. He likes to attack for no reason other than he can. We ken who you are, other than our wife
. ’Twould be a great blow if someone harmed you, Alana. Not because of our pride, but because we care for you. When you were a wee lass and you skinned your knee, we kissed it better, and you ran off, laughing. If a man harms you, or our babe, you’ll not recover as easy. Nor will we.”

  “And whoever touched ye willna live long enough to boast,” said Cormac quietly. “I couldna bear to have ye harmed, Alana.” He ran his fingers over her face to her ear. “Ye are a treasure to us, worth far more than gold. We need ye to obey us, so we ken that ye’ll be safe.”

  Her shoulders rose as she inhaled deeply, then fell.

  “I’ll do my best to obey. But I canna promise I’ll listen when I know you are wrong.”

  Cormac gritted his teeth. He looked out the porthole at nothing. “I swear to ye, wife, if ye get harmed by refusing my orders…” He couldn’t think of what she might do, or his reaction. “Ye best ensure that never happens.”

  “And what about you?” she demanded, twisting her body to look up at him. “Do you think I like knowing you could get killed? My father just killed my brother, though it took him six years to die. He forced my sister to kill herself. He’s caused the deaths of hundreds, many of them his own men. I dinna wish to lose you, either.”

  Cormac tossed off the blanked and pulled her into his lap. She curled into him, clinging. James stood near, rubbing her back.

  “None of us know what the future will bring,” said James. “We can only live with today and pray that tomorrow will be as good, or better.”

  Cormac lifted her chin with his knuckle. Tears glistened in her light blue eyes.

  “Never did I dare to dream ye’d be my wife.” He placed his hand on her belly. “Or that ye’d be carrying our babe. No matter what happens, my life is more than I could have believed.”

  “Brother, if you speak like that our wife will think you’re soft. I’m the one with the words. You’re the muscle.”