An Eager Widow [Highland Menage 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 5

  Chester barked, tail wagging to urge them forward. Duff’s horse was not impressed with the terrier.

  “I am Duff. What should I call ye?”

  She thought on it for a few steps. “Kiera,” she said.

  It was an unusual name, one he couldn’t resist teasing her about.

  “Where did yet get yer name, Kiera?” He gave her an appraising look, enjoying the way the tips of her nipples pushed against his shirt. He would never wear that shirt again without thinking of her. “Ye have dark hair, or is it yer temper? Ye do love to battle.”

  She crossed her arms, lifting her chest and chin. “I am proud of my name! Aye, I have dark hair, but if the castle is attacked I willna hide in the cellars screaming in fear. I will be on the battlements, fighting!”

  “Not in yer wee croft?”

  She blanched. “Oh! Aye.” Her eyes flicked around. “I meant if someone attacked my croft I would have my fireplace poker, a knife, or even my rolling pin in hand to defend myself and my bairns.”

  Her name was not one given to servants or villagers. Kiera must be used to living in a castle and was high enough in rank that she’d be hidden. Yet she didn’t want him to know it. He pretended he hadn’t taken note of what she’d accidentally told him.

  “I like that ye fight,” he replied, nodding. He leered. “I’ll battle with ye, lass, and win. And then ye’ll scream when I sheathe my sword inside yer hot, wet puss.”

  She flushed, swallowed hard, then snorted in forced scorn. “Sword? You mean that wee dirk that hangs at your hip?”

  He liked the challenge she gave him. Conquering her would be even more fun.

  “Wee dirk?” He narrowed his eyes, skimming them over her long, narrow feet, wide hips and breasts, to the braid that hung over one shoulder. “Nay, lass,” he drawled before adding a deep chuckle. Her eyes widened as he made her wait to hear the rest. “I mean the long blade that rises even now behind my sporran.”

  Her blush deepened. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. She was quick witted, enjoying a word battle. He looked forward to learning what other kinds of battle she enjoyed. She swam well. He would give her a head start. When he reached her he’d pull her to him and enter her in one thrust. Surely there was a soft meadow he could chase her into before throwing her down and taking her from behind like a marauder as she scrambled to escape.

  “Strange that both our names mean "dark". Are you called Duff for your dark hair?”

  It took him a moment to focus. “Most of my brothers have black hair. I dinna ken my mother or why she chose the name.”

  “She died young?”

  He’d often wondered if his father’s lack of morals helped bring on his mother’s death. While he and Malcolm grew in her womb and she cared for ten wee sons, four of them bastards, their father had gone looking for other places to dip his cock. Duff’s next three brothers were born within a year of his own birth, to three different mothers. His father had broken so many promises that none of them would break a vow. His lies and disinterest in their welfare was why Somerled was so demanding and unyielding.

  Duff could tell Kiera a few things about him, but he’d select the parts that showed his clan in a better light. Later, after she knew Malcolm, they would tell her all she wished to know.

  “My mother, Maeve, was my father’s second wife,” he said. “She had four sons in three years. It took a toll on her. A fever came that winter, and she was gone.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Did he marry again, to give you a mother?”

  “Nay. We pretty much raised ourselves.” He winked to change the mood and make her smile. “It means I’m handy with a cookpot as well as a claymore.”

  She accepted his lead and laughed before going inside, followed by Chester. Her long legs looked good in his shirt. So did her arse. It would look even better with her on her hands and knees in front of him as she took his cock deep in her pussy.

  God, let that be soon!

  Chapter Six

  Duff quickly took care of his horse, allowing it to have another good roll before he hobbled it. There was lots for it to graze on, and it wouldn’t stray. He sniffed at the enticing smell wafting from the open door. His stomach growled. He ducked under the low sill and stood to one side as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He set his saddle to one side and his saddlebags on the sturdy table.

  A basket filled with fleece to spin sat on her stool by the window. Her spindle waited on top, the leader ready to start once more. Balls of spun yarn sat in another basket. She’d drafted the fleece well, the yarn being fairly even. Kiera might have grown up with wealth but she’d learned something useful. He’d heard about ladies making fancy tapestries and doing fine needlework to display their talents. There was none of that at Duncladach.

  None of them had had a new plaid in twenty years since his father’s leman, Mary, had died. Somerled would not allow the local women to give them cloth when they had their own families to care for. Perhaps some of the gold brought to Duncladach by Fiona’s dowry would allow for Clan MacDougal to get a plaid that wasn’t ragged and patched. Duff hadn’t thought much about how they lived as he knew nothing different. Then they’d stopped at Inverlochy Castle and he’d seen what the Camerons took for granted. Cushions. Padded stools. Chairs with backs on them. Tapestries on the walls to keep out the draft and carpets on the stone floors. Glass in the windows. And best of all, roasted meat each week!

  They’d known none of that. Meat and fish was salted and stored for the winter to keep them from starving. Somerled and his twin, Niall, had somehow kept them all alive with so little. They’d been near starved by spring most years, their bellies rubbing against their backbones, but by damn they’d survived!

  He blinked rapidly, looking from Kiera so she’d not see his wet eyes. Ah yes, spinning, and weaving.

  Part of a wife’s job was keeping her family clothed. If all went well and they married Kiera they’d do without for a few more years so they could gift Somerled and Niall with cloth. It was the very least they could do to thank the men who’d kept them alive.

  Kiera bustled at the other end of the room, talking to Chester as if the dog could understand. He cleared his throat and looked up. Along the edge of each wall hung bundles of plants, tied by the stems upside down to dry. He sniffed. Herbs for cooking or healing and plants to die her yarn, no doubt. She’d strung mushrooms as well. She might not have animals to tend, but she kept her hands busy.

  “Smells good,” he said, turning to her now he was under control. “What’s in the pot?”

  He’d supped well with the Camerons at Inverlochy, then at Lovat Castle the night before. On the way from Duncladach he and Malcolm ate whatever they could find. They had no coin and refused to take anything from MacKenzie’s messenger. That first night at Inverlochy they’d both stuffed their faces and then put extra in the pouches of their plaids. They’d laughed at each other for doing it, but repeated it at Laird Fraser's castle. When a man has been starved as a child and sees a feast he couldn’t help but take more for later, knowing there would be hunger in the future.

  Kiera’s curves showed she was well fed. That suggested there was a good chance her bairns would not starve. If times were lean he and Malcolm would go without, as no doubt his oldest brothers had, to feed the little ones. He sniffed, then rubbed his eyes as if smoke had gotten in them. It was thinking they may have a chance at a good life, one where their wife and babes would not starve or freeze. He shuddered, still not quite able to believe it.

  “‘Tis oatmeal pottage with onions and mushrooms, and some herbs,” said Kiera. “I check my rabbit snares each morn but they were empty today.”

  He cleared his throat. “Chester doesn’t catch rabbits?”

  “Nay, he doesna like wee holes in the ground. I give him what I dinna wish to eat.” She scooped some pottage into a wooden bowl. She looked around. “I only have but one small bowl.”

  “I’ll eat from the po
t. ‘Twill save refilling.”

  “You willna do that in my home!” She stomped over to an open cupboard and reached for a glazed bowl. “This is bigger.”

  There was a pattern marked in it. Yes, Kiera or her kin had once had wealth.

  “I have sommat to add to the meal.” He went to his saddlebags and brought out a loaf of bread and a pair of small crocks.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Would that be butter?”

  “Aye, and strawberry preserves.”

  She licked her lips, staring at the crocks. She grasped the edge of the table. It was as if she had to hold herself back from grabbing them and devouring the contents. Greed, not hunger. The greed of a wee lass having tasted sweetness and thinking she’d not have it again.

  “Och, kitten, the look on yer face!”

  “What?” Her eyes met his but quickly flickered back to the bounty on the table.

  “What if I asked ye to choose between this and my mouth and fingers on yer clit tonight?”

  She was salivating so hard she had to keep swallowing. “If you stay tonight you’ll be here in the morning, as will your mouth and fingers. This feast may not.”

  “I like yer honesty.” He stepped back from the table, lifting his arms. “These are my gift to ye.”

  He swore her moan was louder when her strawberry-dipped finger entered her mouth than when he dipped his tongue in her the first time.

  “Save a wee bit for later,” he murmured. “I have plans for it, and ye.”

  She stopped sucking her finger with it halfway out of her mouth. He remembered his cock in that position. He gritted his teeth to hold back the surging need to set her on that table and fill her with it. She popped her finger out, blushing.

  “Are you not having some?” she asked, keeping her eyes down.

  “‘Tis a gift, Kiera. I couldna deny ye when ye crave it so much.”

  “Oh.”

  She traced a pattern on the table with her still-damp finger. She was trembling. He reached for her and she ran into his arms. She clung to him for a moment, then sniffled. He pressed her head against his shoulder. Caring for her came so naturally. Yet it worried him why she could cry over something this simple.

  “Kitten, what is this?”

  “Few have been so kind since I was a wee lass.”

  He sagged, releasing his concern. No wonder she had a sharp tongue. “I dinna have much to offer ye, and I had my fill at Lovat Castle this morn.”

  She stiffened. “You are a Fraser?”

  “Nay, they are kin through a brother’s wife. The laird let me sleep in the stable.” He rubbed her back, soothing her. “Cook said I needed fattening, so she bade me take the food.”

  She slowly relaxed at his touch. Had a Fraser harmed her, or was she unused to anyone but MacKenzies? He looked around, more carefully this time. She had horn spoons and cups as well as wood. She even had extra pots, and those not old and battered. Had they come from her husband’s family, or were they part of her dowry?

  “I dinna ken who ye are, Kiera, but yer kitchen is well set.”

  “I canna tell you.”

  He pulled her close. “I’m not asking, kitten. I was admirin’. I ken from the way ye talk and act that ye’re no servant or villager.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m asking for nothing ye canna give freely, lass. I care for ye. Who ye are doesna matter. I want ye in my arms. And more.”

  She looked up at him with a half frown. He kissed her forehead and stepped back before she noticed how hard his cock had grown. He took up a horn spoon and began eating. The food was hot, and good. It filled his belly but left something empty. Would she accept him as more than a toy to play with for a day? He drank her in as he ate. She watched, unmoving and silent. He finished the bowl and set it on the table.

  “Thank ye for the food. Do ye wish me to stay?” He held his breath, waiting. She bit her lip, then nodded. “Until morning?”

  “Until you must leave. Do you have a day or two for me?”

  A fear he hadn’t acknowledged flowed away. “Aye, and more.”

  He didn’t care what Laird MacKenzie wanted, or Malcolm. He wanted this wee kitten for himself. She must have a place in the village. With two husbands working hard the three of them would do well.

  “When must you leave?” she asked.

  “I must be gone at the second full moon.” He couldn’t tell her more until she’d accepted him.

  Her tense shoulders relaxed. She smiled and reached for the hem of his shirt, arms crossed. She hauled it over her head and tossed it aside. He choked, seeing her proud in her naked glory. His cock throbbed with wanting her. His fingers tingled to touch her heat. A low groan filled the room. She took a shy step forward, then another.

  “I dinna wish you to leave. I want you.”

  His heart thudded in his chest. “What are ye saying?”

  She rested her hands on his chest for a moment, then reached around to his back. She tightened her hold, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. His cock fought to rise behind his plaid and sporran.

  “I’m not one to beg,” she said. “And I’m not doing it now. But I ask that you give me all of you.”

  “All?”

  “I wish us to lie as a man and a woman while you are here.”

  “Why?” His voice cracked like an eager lad with his first woman. He wanted the same but needed to know more.

  “I am a widow. I have known the joy from coupling and would like to feel it again.” She blushed. “You’ve already made me feel more than I ever did in my marriage bed.” She dropped her head. “I’m lonely and would like some company for a wee while.”

  As one in the middle of sixteen brothers some days he’d felt as if he was suffocating. Those days he couldn’t get far enough away, fast enough. It was different with Malcolm. They could sense each other so Duff had never been alone. He wondered if Malcolm’s heart pounded and cock throbbed the same as his own at this moment. It wouldn’t be the first time Duff found a lass and Malcolm had not.

  Kiera had never known the connection he and Malcolm took for granted. No wonder she wished him to stay if a simple act of kindness made her weep. He wanted to hold her, to tell her she’d never be alone again. Perhaps all she wanted was a lover for a few days, though the laird wanted more, and so did Duff.

  He gently brushed the hair off her face. His hands followed her braid down to the tip. He took the rawhide off and began unraveling it. Soft and silky, it drifted through his fingers like black water. He lifted it to his nose. She’d washed it with more than water and lye soap. Something that smelled good. Did she use some of those plants she had drying?

  “We canna lie as a man and woman, Kiera. I willna get ye with child.”

  Her smile was tremulous and wondrous. “I would wish for your babe.”

  He almost staggered at the simple statement, one he’d never thought to hear. Not from a woman like this, one who had a full life without him. Full of tasks, perhaps, but not enough to fill her soul.

  “I have eight brothers who are bastards. My father took them in when many wouldn’t. I willna create a child and ride away.”

  Her lungs filled so deeply she took a step back. He braced himself for bad news.

  “Then would you handfast with me and stay for a wee while? I’m old, so doubt I’ll quicken. If I do, I will cherish it. I dinna ask you to stay forever, even if we make a babe.”

  “I’ve not met a woman like ye,” he replied. “Strong, and proud, and big enough that I’m nay afraid to break ye. If ye would have me, I would handfast with ye. I am Duff MacDougal, from Duncladach. On the west coast,” he added.

  “I dinna ken the MacDougals.”

  He sent a prayer of thanks for that. “We are a small clan, and poor. I offer ye naught but what I am.” Which included being the identical twin of a brother who’d share her, if she was willing.

  “‘Tis enough for me.” She worried at her lip, tense. “You ken we are on MacKenzie land, a
ye?” She waited for his nod. “I be a MacKenzie.”

  “I thought ye might. There’s a fair few of ye about, aye?” He nudged her hip, making it a joke. She shuddered and exhaled, her tension leaving with her breath. Why was she so worried about her name? Of course she was a MacKenzie. That was why the laird was concerned about her. She was his kin, as were many others.

  “Will you handfast with me, Duff MacDougal, for a year and a day, unless we make a babe?”

  MacKenzie had said she was bold. It eased his conscience that she had asked for him. It could never be said he’d pushed her into agreeing. He could not believe this bounteous woman wanted him. His chest swelled as much as his cock.

  “Aye, Kiera MacKenzie,” he replied. “I would handfast with ye.” He took her hands in his. “I must warn ye that MacDougals are potent. There are sixteen of us, six being twins, with no lasses. If we lie together ye may well find yerself with a son come spring.”

  “If we make a babe and you must leave and canna return, I’ll have someone to remember you by, and to love. I have kin. We’ll not starve.”

  Her earnest expression and hope near broke his heart. Was she that lonely, that desperate for someone to care for? He would do all he could to ease that fear. She deserved a pair of caring husbands, a wee croft with a peat fire to keep out the winter, enough food in the pot, and many fat, laughing bairns.

  “Please, Duff. Will you fill me with your cock now?”

  It was close enough to begging for him. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He gathered her softly rounded body into his arms, almost crushing her. She pushed him away. He frowned, unsure. She reached for him, fumbling with his belt. He laughed, letting her do as she chose. She was a feisty, determined woman. Lusty, as well. All that was good. A moment later his cock was free.

  “I want you in me now!”