But no “talks” or gossip have prepared me for what I’ve just experienced with Hamish. No “understanding” about sex has prepared me for a man putting his mouth between my thighs and licking me until I saw God, or heaven, or… I don’t even know what.

  My breath catches as I squeeze my legs tighter, blushing fiercely at the heat I can feel blooming between them. I swallow, reliving that feeling of his tongue on me while his powerful hands held me so tightly, when suddenly, there’s a knocking at the door.

  I gasp, bolting up from my seat on the floor against it and whirling at the sound. My face burns fiercely, and I swallow a thick lump in my throat as I stare. The knock comes again, and I jump—somehow both scared and excited at who it very well may be.

  “My—” I swallow again, forcing myself to breath so my words don’t squeak.

  “My lord?”

  “Una!”

  Ailith’s voice hisses through the door, and my shoulders drop, breath escaping me in a rush. I’m not actually sure if I’m relieved or disappointed it’s not Lord Ballentyne as I reach for the door and swing it wide.

  “There you are,” Ailith rushes past me, her face just as red as mine, her eyes wild as they dart around my lavish quarters. She whirls once she reaches the far wall, eyeing me as I close the door.

  “Where were you?”

  I frown. “The baths? You walked me there?”

  She blinks, chewing her lip before she shakes her head.

  “Right, yes, I know.” Her frown returns. “But you’ve been gone for ages.”

  I try and swallow back the heat on my face as I causally shrug. “Was I?”

  Ailith arches a brow, and I swallow.

  “Well, they’re very nice baths. I guess I let time get away from me.”

  Ailith nods absently, turning to glance out the window. My brow furrows as I move towards her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm? What?”

  She whirls, looking downright cagey as her eyes dart all over the place.

  “Are you okay?” I chew at my lip worriedly. Something’s up.

  “Of course, I am,” she says quickly, waving me off before she turns back to the window. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  I smile. “Because you look guilty.”

  She blushes fiercely, her eyes sparking with something.

  “Guilty?”

  The word cracks awkwardly from her mouth, and she instantly cringes, turning to bury her face and look away. My face falls as I rush to her, putting an arm around my friend’s shoulders.

  “Hey! Hey now!”

  Ailith takes shaky breathes as I rub her back, holding her to me.

  “I think it’s me who’s supposed to get emotional on the wedding day. You know, because I’m the bride?”

  She smiles wryly, taking a shaky breath.

  “Sorry, Una.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s really fine, Ail.”

  “But, it’s your wedding day. You don’t need me barging in here like this.”

  I arch a brow at her. “Arranged wedding day.”

  Ailith sighs. “You read far too many books, Una. Too many fairytales with knight swooping in to sweep the princess off her feet. True love and all of that?”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  Ailith smiles wryly. “It’s not real? Una, in the real world, people are betrothed to others. Marriages are planned, for all sorts of practical reasons.” She frowns. “I don’t think true love is much a part of marriage in the real world, Una.”

  For a second, my thoughts tease back to Hamish, and what we did, and I blush wildly.

  I don’t think true love is much a part of marriage in the real world, Una.

  Hamish’s eyes swim into my vision—his gorgeous face, with that strong jaw and gorgeous lips. The fire in his gaze, the way he smelled as he drew close to me.

  But I quickly shake my head. No, what happened before was… sinful. That wasn’t love. This is an arranged marriage, and nothing more. And deep down, I know Ailith is right. The true love I read about in my books exists only there, not here in the real world. And the sooner I accept that, the easier it will be to just let this wedding happen and take these cards I’ve been dealt for my life.

  …Even if it stings a little, considering what just happened with the man I’m to marry.

  “You’re right,” I mutter quietly, forcing a smile at my friend before I arch a brow at her. “Now, are you going to tell me what you’re being so elusive about?”

  Ailith stiffens, swallowing. “I’m am not.”

  I laugh. “Ail, you ran in here like something was chasing you.”

  She blushes, her gaze darting to the floor.

  “It’s nothing, Una.”

  Except, that’s not true. I know my friend pretty well, and I know she’s lying, or avoiding something. And she’s dreaming if she thinks I’m letting it go that easily.

  “Ailith…”

  She groans. “It’s honestly nothing, okay?”

  That flush blooms in her cheeks again, and my brows knit.

  “Hold on, you’re not scared, you’re flustered. Now what on earth has you so—”

  Suddenly, my eyes go wide. I know that flustered look, because it’s the exact same excited, nervous, and scandalized look I had on my own face after running from Hamish.

  “Ailith!” I hiss, my eyes wide as saucers. “Tell me right this instant!”

  “What?!” She pales, her eyes as wide as mine as she shakes her head. “I—what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the man that has you all flustered like this!”

  She grows even whiter, shaking her head. “No, it’s… no,” she stammers before she lowers her head. “Ailith, I’m engaged to Lord Carson.”

  Yuck. Lord Carlson is almost three times Ailith’s age, and a notoriously angry drunk of a man. He also has a sordid history of fathering bastard children with his household staff. Even scarier, his four previous wives all found themselves dead under bizarre circumstances before the age of twenty-five.

  …As much as I want to complain about being betrothed to Lord Ballentyne, my situation is nothing like Ailith’s. So needless to say, her being all flustered over a man, when I know Lord Carson isn’t at this wedding, has me intrigued.

  “You have to tell me!”

  She shakes her head vigorously. “Una, you’re imagining things.”

  I sigh heavily, glaring at her through my grin. “Fine, keep your secrets, you hag.”

  She snorts a laugh at the insult that’s become somewhat of a joke between the four of us.

  “Let’s just get through your wedding first, and then we can figure out what I’m going to—” her mouth snaps shut, and she quickly takes a breath.

  “Today is about you, Una. Let’s keep it that way.”

  I smile, shaking my head as I give in. “Okay, okay. Fine.” I sigh, glancing around my quarters. “Can we get out of here for a bit? Maybe go find Cat and Rhona?”

  “But you need to get ready!”

  I shrug. “How long does it take to put one dress on?”

  Ailith sighs, giving me a look.

  “Una, it is your wedding day.”

  “And you’re worried that I’m not taking it seriously?”

  “Something like that? Una, Lord Ballentyne is supposed to be a good man.”

  He’s a WICKED man is what he is. A filthy, sinful, wicked man who put his mouth between my legs and made me see stars.

  I swallow back the blush as I shake my head. “Can we just go for a walk? I need to clear my head.”

  She smiles. “Sure.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I’m already feeling better. After not being able to find Cat and Rhona in their guest quarters, Ailith and I are strolling through the vegetable gardens near the eastern wall of Dungow. My mind is clearer, and I can tell hers is too.

  “You know,” she finally says, grinning at me conspiratorially. “I still don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth about where you were.”

  I stammer, shaking my head. “I told you, the—”

  “The bathhouse, I know,” She stops and turns to arch a brow at me. “Now, was it the baths that somehow gave you a kiss-mark on your neck, Una?”

  Heat rushes through my face, and my hand darts to my neck before I realize what she’s done.

  “Oh, you horrible friend!”

  Ailith hoots with laughter, having totally just tricked me into putting my hand where Hamish’s lips were an hour before.

  “Okay, story, now!” She giggles.

  I glare at her, and I’m about to give her another piece of my mind when I hear footsteps behind us. We both turn to see a stunningly beautiful woman with deep chestnut hair, flawless pale skin, and glowing blue eyes. There’s a severe and drawn look to her, with the hint of a sneer on her lips, and her mere presence is suddenly chilling.

  “Ahh, well now,” she purrs with a voice like honey. “If it isn’t the blushing bride-to-be.”

  I let my shoulders droop a little. She must be one of the ladies in waiting in Hamish’s court.

  “Una,” I say politely, curtsying and smiling at her. She doesn’t smile back, and if anything, her frostiness only intensifies.

  “Gwendolyn,” she purrs back, her sneer staying right where it is.

  “How do you do,” Ailith curtsies politely. “I’m—”

  Gwendolyn waves a hand dismissively, cutting Ailith off so fast my jaw drops.

  “So, marrying Lord Ballentyne tonight, are you?”

  I bite at my lip. “Yes. And I’m sorry, are you part of the—”

  “Has he told you about me?”

  I freeze, my brow furrowing. “I beg your pardon?”

  She sighs. “No, of course he hasn’t.” Her sour look deepened as her lips curl into a wicked smile.

  “See, before he found you, I was his first choice.”

  Something sharp twists inside of me, taking my breath away.

  “What?”

  Gwendolyn smiles thinly. “Yes, dear. Before you I had him,” her smile widens as my face goes white. “Oh, and trust me, I had him.”

  The sharp thing twisting in my gut slices deeper—my head swimming as I try and process what she’s saying.

  “I—”

  “Didn’t know?” She laughs a brittle, joyless laugh. “Of course, you didn’t, you silly little girl. But here a warning. You’re his new little toy, for now. But trust me. Once he grows bored of a simple little country girl like you?” She laughs. “Well, you’ll be replaced. Maybe by me, maybe by a new plaything. Who knows.” She shrugs, her eyes mocking me as I stand there hollow and cold.

  “Just telling you. As a friend, dear.”

  Before I can utter a word, she’s whirled, her gown billowing around her as she gathers the hem and strolls back out of the garden.

  Chapter 6

  Hamish

  “A toast, to our friend.”

  Malcolm raises a flagon of the wine he’s poured for the three of us, pushing one my way as he grins.

  “To settling down with a good woman. To staying put here in Scotland, and may we never set foot outside of this country ever again.”

  I chuckle. The wars in the Holy Land were hell, and no man over there thought any different. But Malcolm in particular maintains a certain level of hatred for the places we fought. Again, none of us enjoyed ourselves over there, but the fighting wore on Malcolm more than Callum and I. That’s not at all due to cowardice either. It’s that Malcolm’s a man of the sea. He was born on the water and has commanded ships his whole life. Fighting in the dirt and deserts of Jerusalem and battling his way through the narrow, twisting stone hallways of those foreign palaces hit him especially hard.

  But then, who am I kidding. It hit all of us hard.

  Callum takes his flagon from the table, I take mine, and we raise a toast before bringing the wine to our lips. My brow shoots up as what is most certainly not wine hits my tongue.

  “A bit early for whiskey, isn’t it, Mal?” Callum chuckles, taking a large swig of his drink.

  Malcolm just grins. “Didn’t I say it was whiskey?”

  “You said wine,” I grin. “But the whiskey will do just fine. Cheers.”

  My friend chuckles as he clinks his glass to mine and takes a large pull from it.

  The whiskey flames its way through me—a welcome burn on top of the turmoil racing through me. It’s been barely an hour since I left Una, and my every thought is still back there with her. Every part of me aches for her—wanting her again and wanting to take it all. My cock throbs beneath my kilt, my pulse racing like the wind across the cliffs. I’ve had one taste, and now?

  Now I crave her, utterly and completely. I’ve wanted her since the moment I saw her, but this taste—and I can still taste her—has only turned my hunger into obsession.

  There’s a part of me that truly marvels that I was able to walk away from her. That somehow, I pulled away instead of claiming her right there in the baths—pulling her into me, spreading those pretty thighs around my hips and sliding my swollen cock deep into sweet untouched cunt.

  …A promise of what’s hers anytime she desires once we’re wed.

  And yet, I didn’t. And yet, I walked away, my balls aching for release, and my cock hungry for a taste. But I will wait until we’re wed to take her. To claim her. And when I take her, it’ll be in our marriage bed. Because Una isn’t just some woman. She’s not a pretty little thing to ride my cock and warm my bed.

  She’s to be my wife. And to me, that means everything. Just as she means the Heaven and Earth to me.

  “To Una,” Callum growls, raising his whiskey. “To a good woman for a good man.”

  I nod, clapping him on the back. “Thanks, my friend.”

  Malcolm chuckles. “To Una, and to her very pretty friends.”

  I arch a brow, shooting him a look. “To my knowledge, most of them are betrothed, Mal.” My brows knit. “And you will behave at my wedding.”

  Malcolm grins. “Like you have?”

  I scowl, muscles tensing, but my friend just grins wider.

  “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you coming out of the bathing chambers earlier.”

  The growl rumbles in my throat.

  “It’s my bathhouse.”

  “Even the women’s section I saw you leaving, I suppose?”

  My scowl deepens as Callum begins to chuckle too, turning to grin at me.

  “Now Malcolm, let’s not jump to conclusions. Perhaps the man wanted to look extra beautiful for his big day?”

  The two of them snort themselves into laughter, chuckling as they clink glasses and drink their whiskey.

  I just glare at them.

  “My castle—”

  “Yes, yes, your rules,” Malcolm snickers. “You’ve mentioned that little line a number of times, my friend.”

  Callum eyes me. “Now, are you going to tell us what you were up to?”

  I growl dangerously, my jaw clenching.

  “Now, another man, and I might guess at one last romp with a kitchen maid,” Malcolm muses, stroking his jaw. “But that’s not you, is it?”

  I glare at him.

  “No, it wouldn’t be just some girl. Not with you. So, if not that…”

  His brow suddenly shoots up as his grin widens.

  “Callum, my friend,” he chuckles. “I do believe our friend Hamish is sampling the goods before he buys.”

  The two of them start to laugh before my snarl cuts them off abruptly, both of them eyeing me warily.

  Callum arches a brow, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  “Easy, my friend. We’re only joking.”

  I sigh, blowing air through my lips.

  “I know, I know. My apologies. I’m just… tense.”

  Malcolm snorts. “Even after your little visit in the bath—”

  Callum’s fist on his shoulder has him grunting instead of finishing his sentence, glaring at our friend.

  “Ass.”

  Callum grins. “Goat fucker.”

  I roll my eyes, grinning at the way the three of us can fight and laugh like brothers. I suppose war does that to men.

  We pour one last drink as Malcolm clears his throat.

  “On a more serious note…” he frowns, swirling his whiskey around the glass. “I’ve heard word from some of my merchant friends further up the coast.”

  His look darkens.

  “There’s been rumors of a fleet coming down from the Northlands.” His frown creases his brow. “Hamish, they say it’s Tor Odinson.”

  Fuck.

  There aren’t many things—or really anything—in this world that scares me. After all, I’ve seen hell, and I’ve fought demons in the dark deserts the Holy Land. And yet, even with me, the mention of the infamous Viking marauder’s name gives me pause.

  Tor Odinson. The man is every boogeyman story come to life. Vicious, driven, and unmerciful. His fleet is known as the Devil’s Sails—both from the crimson color of their sails, and by the savagery of their methods when they strike. Tor’s sacked dozens of towns, castles, and lands over the last few years—leaving only few survivors to tell the stories of pillage, sacking, and kidnapping.

  Now, Dungow is no everyday stronghold. It’s bigger, stronger, older, virtually impenetrable, and hasn’t been breached once in the hundreds of years it’s stood. And normally, I’d give the story no more than a single thought. After all, should Tor try and take my castle, he’s in for a long visit, as Dungow can support a full castle for more than a year with the food stores and crops planted inside the walls.

  And yet, something does worry me at the mention of him being on the warpath, and close. And it’s not my castle, or me.

  …It’s her.

  It’s that now, I’ve got something precious within my walls.

 

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