Excerpt - Captive Bride

Highland Menage 1

Reece Butler


Gillis reached for Fiona. He’d barely touched her lips when he heard the whinnying of unfamiliar horses. “There’s someone out there!” Fiona whispered hoarsely. “Aye, ‘tis Cameron’s men,” said Angus with disgust. He rolled to his feet. A moment later the door burst open and Darach Cameron swept in. Fiona mewed, rolled over and stuck her face against his chest, exposing her backside. Gillis pulled his plaid over her bottom and held her tight as the groom-to-be peered down at them. “Ye said ye had a MacDougal lad, nay a lassie,” said Darach. “Ye misheard,” replied Gillis in a low growl. “Fiona’s my wife.” He adjusted the fabric, not wanting Darach to see what a tempting bundle she was. Once covered, her surprise dealt with, she peeked up at Darach. “Wife?” Darach snorted. “How did ye find yerself a wife?” “She dropped in on me, and I decided to keep her,” answered Gillis gruffly. “Fiona,” said Angus, “this great lug is Darach, Cameron’s third son. He’s to be married soon to some poor lassie.” He poured a cup of ale and offered it to Darach. “Fiona is Laird Menzies’s daughter.” Darach nodded his thanks. He frowned at her as he drank. “Menzies has no unmarried daughters, less she was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” He handed the empty cup back to Angus. “Ye always said ye’d marry a cow if it had a good a dowry. If she be a bastard ye’ll get nothing.” The word bastard had not bothered Gillis when it meant his half brothers. He did not like it used for his wife. Neither did Fiona. Face red in fury rather than arousal, unfortunately, she struggled to sit up. Gillis hid a chuckle at how easily he held her down with the fingers of one hand. But then she’d had a fever for more than three days. Give her a few weeks to recover, and he’d have to work harder at it. Not much, though. She was such a wee thing. Fiona had stopped struggling so Gillis released her. He immediately regretted it as she sat up and jabbed her elbow into his gut. He grunted, though it was more for show. “I can speak for meself, thank ye very much.” She held the corner of his plaid over her breasts as she peered at Darach before jerking her head toward the door. “You’ve satisfied yer curiosity. Now ye can leave.” Darach’s jaw dropped. He looked at her in delight and broke out into laugher. “Are ye sure ye want this wildcat, lads? My Isabel is a modest lady and knows her place. This one will scratch yer eyes out, or take a sgian dubh to ye if ye displease her.” Fiona bristled in his arms. Gillis gave her a squeeze of reassurance. She might be a bastard and have dressed and acted like a boy for years but he could see what Darach said hurt. “MacDougals like their women strong and feisty,” said Gillis. “Camerons are weak-kneed laddies.” Considering Camerons were associated with the phrase “fiercer than fierceness itself,” Gillis wasn’t worried about Darach showing anger at the mock insult. He made sure Fiona was covered with his plaid when he rose, naked, to his feet. He did not like looking up to any man. Darach glanced from his rampant cockstand to Fiona. “She’s nay over her fever,” said Gillis. “Soon as ye’ve gone we’ll solve my problem.” He turned to her. “Do ye think ye’ll stay awake long enough this time for us to have a second round, wife?” Fiona made a strangled noise. She pulled his plaid over her red face. “Could ye send a man with a dress so Fiona can ride in with dignity?” Angus pointed to her clothing, now dry. “Aye.” Darach’s slow grin made Gillis grind his teeth. What would he demand in return? “‘Twould be best if I see the size of the woman. So I can judge what clothes to send, ye ken.” “Ye can wait outside,” replied Gillis with a snarl. “I want all of ye great beasts outside,” ordered Fiona, showing her face. “My Lady Isabel would never speak to me that way,” said Darach, lifting an eyebrow at her fury. “I was ne’er raised to be a lady, so I stand up for meself!” She spoke aggressively, but Gillis heard her sad acceptance at being unwanted. He would change that belief, first thing. He wanted her, and so did Angus, and not just for what their bodies could share. “‘Twas an observation, not an insult,” said Darach, adding a short bow of respect. “The Lady Isobel’s father is fond of her and has treated her well all her life. I’ve met Laird Menzies. Father keeps Mother, and other women, far from him and his men. Mother once said she has the castle scrubbed, as well as Father’s ears, every time Menzies visits as he spreads such filth. I’ll await ye outside.” Darach left, closely followed by Angus. Fiona glared at Gillis, raising her eyebrows and looking toward the door in an obvious, though silent, order. He shook his head slowly, lips twitching at the effort to hold back a smile. She was like a kitten, all furious with wee claws. Her scratches would tantalize more than hurt. He wanted to feel her nails clawing his back, her sweet voice begging for more as he thrust deep into her. “I’m your husband. I stay,” he informed her. “Nay, ye’re not.” “I said ye were my wife in front of a witness. Angus said ye were Fiona MacDougal. Ye said nothing to deny it.” He tapped her on her nose. “Wife.” “Find me a broom,” she ordered. His heart skipped a beat. “Are ye well enough to jump o’er it to handfast with me?” “Nay, I wish to clobber ye over the head with it!” His cock leaped at her fire. Her eyes dropped. She swallowed hard, then licked her lips. Slowly. The tempting witch! He held back a groan. He’d heard of women putting their mouths there, but had never seen, or felt it. Surely she would not know about that? “Ye are still weak from yer fever,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll help ye dress.” “Cover that beast first,” she ordered, pointing at his erect cock. “If ye say so.” Grinning, he grasped his plaid and swirled it off her. She shrieked, covering herself with her hands. It was a futile gesture as her breasts were larger than her palms. “Nay lass,” he scolded quietly. “Never hide from yer husband. What ye have, is mine. As I, and mine, are yers.”

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