We do it again twice more, before we take a break for food, drink, and bath. We make another mess of my bed with the wine and the lunch, and then it’s straight to my private bathing quarters to wash her clean.

  …Followed by my making her come once again with my mouth and then again as she rides my cock in the bath, until she’s messy with me all over again.

  We don’t leave my—our—chambers once the entire day. A few brave souls come to knock and question whether we’ll be joining in the post-wedding activities and celebrations, but we both decline. Let them celebrate without us. The only celebration I want, is right here in my bed, with her.

  * * *

  It’s dark when the blaring sound of the warning horn from my guards on the castle walls have me jumping from the bed.

  “Hamish?!”

  I turn, my eyes meeting her worried ones.

  “It’s going to be okay, love,” I growl, my eyes hardening. “Stay in bed, and—”

  “My lord!” There’s a thundering knock at my chamber doors, and I whirl, snarling.

  “My Lord Ballentyne!!”

  I storm across the room to the door before turning to Una. One nod, and she gets me, pulling the blankets up high before I turn, still naked, and yank the door open.

  “What in the seven hells is going on out there!”

  The guard’s eyes go wide—first at my nakedness, and then even wider as he glances past me at the bed.

  “Eyes,” I hiss furiously, tearing his eyes back to me with fear clouding them as he goes white.

  “Eyes here,” I snarl.

  The man trembles, nodding quickly.

  “Now what in the hell—”

  “Marauders, my lord.”

  My heart stops for a moment, something cold slicing through me.

  “What.”

  “Danes, Lord Ballentyne. Vikings.”

  I can hear Una gasp sharply behind me, and my jaw grinds tight as I level my eyes at the guard.

  “Tor Odinson?”

  He swallows, paling even just hearing the name as he nods.

  Gods help us.

  Dungow hasn’t fallen once in centuries. But then, Dungow hasn’t ever been attacked by the man who can even give me pause to think about my own mortality.

  Tor is a man from legend. A demon. A devil walking the Earth leaving a trail of destruction. And now, on the night after I’ve wed the only goodness I’ve ever known in this world, he’s come here.

  My heart steels itself, my anger boiling inside as the fear melts away into something fiercer.

  Let him come. These walls haven’t ever been breached, and I’ll be damned if they do tonight.

  “Prepare the castle,” I growl savagely.

  “My lord…”

  The man swallows, eyes wide.

  “What is it.”

  He blinks, steeling his nerve.

  “He’s had spies, my lord. Agents, if you will.”

  My eyes narrow. “And?”

  “Agents who arrived with forged invitation to your—”

  “Fucking hell,” I swear under my breath, my mind reeling as what he’s saying sinks in.

  “My lord—”

  “They’re already inside.”

  He nods as I finish for him, and my jaw clenches.

  “Prepare the men,” I snarl.

  “But my lord—”

  “Now!” I roar, sending him jumping away before I turn back, my eyes locking on my love.

  No foe has ever taken Dungow. And that was before I had something as precious as Una inside these walls. And now that I’ve got her?

  My body tenses, fire blazing through my heart.

  It’s time to send Tor Odinson back to hell, because no man, demon, or devil is going to lay a hand on my queen.

  Chapter 11

  Hamish

  Keep her safe.

  It’s my only thought as I charge through the castle, my longsword heavy and glistening in my hand. Though I’ve been home from war for a while now, my senses are just as honed. My readiness for battle is just as sharp and just as vicious. And with the threat of harm to Una thrown into the whole thing?

  …Well, woe to any of the invaders that cross my path right now.

  There’s no time for armor, but I’m yanking on my riding leathers as I rush down from my tower towards the sounds of battle. I’ve sent the guard who came to wake me back down ahead of me, but not before he filled me in on Tor’s plot to take Dungow from the inside. Apparently, a few of them came in disguised as the cooking staff, or as stable boys of visiting guests for the wedding.

  My blood boils at the thought of my enemies being so bold as to think they could walk through my fucking front door and take what’s mine. My hand tightens on the leather handle of my sword, and my heart steals itself for battle. I’ve got four men guarding the door to my quarters—good, loyal, strong men. Men who I know would fall on their own swords before allowing harm to come to Una. And knowing that is the only thing that’s gotten me down here, ready for battle instead of up there guarding her.

  Up ahead, I can hear the pitched sound of men roaring, and iron clanging together. My jaw tightens, I grip the sword tight, and I go barreling out of the stairwell into the courtyard.

  Gods…

  Men are fighting all over the damn place. The intruders haven’t gotten the main gates open, but they’ve gotten one or two side-doors open from the inside, and it’s around these that the battles are being fought. Off to the side, the roof of one of the stables is ablaze—flames licking high on the stone walls as stable hands rush to free the screaming horses.

  I take a deep, measured breath. There’s no panic. No falling apart. Nothing but my trained senses taking it all in and strategizing where to go first. My eyes lock on one of the side-doors, half smashed off its hinges with savage looking Vikings rushing through. And there, planted right in front of it with their swords swinging and battle cries on their lips, are Callum and Malcolm.

  My eyes narrow, my hand tightens on my sword, and I rush in. I give them both a double-clap on the shoulders, alerting them to my presence and letting them know it’s me as I join them in facing the horde rushing through the door.

  “Happy wedding,” Callum hisses, roaring as he swings his sword down, cleaving through a screaming Viking.

  “Now, Hamish,” Malcolm grunts, blocking a blow from another marauder before kneeing the man in the gut, sending him crashing to the ground. His sword follows, silencing the would-be conqueror.

  “I must admit, I came expecting drink, food, perhaps some dancing. Hopefully some pretty lasses to warm my lap.” He turns, shaking his head as he sighs dramatically. “I feel as though you might have warned us about the ‘pitched battle’ part of the festivities. I might have worn different boots.”

  Laughing might seem out of place at the moment, but I do it anyways, chuckling at my friend as I parry a blow from one of the raiders and shove my sword through his gut. Only Malcolm would bring sarcasm to a pitched battle.

  The three of us rush forward, roaring as we shove the Vikings back—hacking and slashing and grunting as we begin to stem the tide of marauders streaming through the door. Callum turns, roaring orders at some of my men and beckoning them as Mal and I shove the last few Vikings back through the broken door frame. My men come rushing over, and with Callum’s direction, they begin to shove one of the stable wagons across the courtyard. We all dig our heels into the dirt and grunt, heaving and shoving, until finally, the damn thing tips onto its side, totally blocking the doorway as it crumples.

  Across the courtyard, the other door is being secured, and I grin savagely as I watch the other flanking force of Viking marauders begin to retreat.

  “Hamish!”

  I whirl, following Malcolm’s finger up to the high tower—my quarters. There’s a scream, and suddenly a figure of a man dressed in Viking garb goes crashing through one of the high windows, tumbling through the air to land with a sickening crunch on the roof of my armory.

  I shoot one look at my friends before suddenly, I’m off, running faster than I’ve ever run before. And I’m roaring like a beast as I storm the curved stairway up the tower, my blood thundering like waves against the cliffs through my veins as I charge, my sword thirty for blood. I round the last turn and bolt down the hallway, the sounds of men yelling and….

  My heart stops,

  …It’s the sound of Una, screaming.

  I bellow a roar, rounding the corner and lunging into the fray. The four men I’ve left to guard Una are dead, but so are about ten Vikings—eleven if you count the one that went flying through the window. The remaining dozen or so are clamoring at the door to my chambers, slashing at it with swords as they hurl crudeness at her.

  At my queen.

  I see red. I see blood, and rage, and hatred as I rush into them, bellowing like a wild beast. My sword claims two of them before they even know what’s hit them. I take two more souls as they try and turn to rally against me. And by the time they start to rush me, I’ve cut another one in two.

  Now it’s seven to one.

  …I’ll take those odds.

  A snarl drips from my lips as three of them rush me. I duck the first blow and charge into the second man, grabbing his sword by the handle and yanking it past me as I bury my blade in his chest. I yank it free with a grunt, whirling on instinct and claiming another. I can see the half-smashed door barely hanging on to its frame behind them—all that’s stopped them from getting to Una, and it’s that thought that has me snarling and hurling into them with a renewed fury.

  I take another, and then another, and it’s then that Malcolm comes rushing up the stairs, breathless but jumping right in. And just like that, it’s over. The last marauder screams as I impale him against the wall, my eyes blazing as I watch the lights go out in his before I let him drop.

  “For fucks sake,” Malcolm pants, shaking his head at me. “Gods are you fucking fast.”

  I barely flash a grin before I turn for the door.

  “Una!”

  I stride right for the ruined door, full of holes and slashes, and I’m just about to reach for the knob when suddenly, I’m yanked backwards. And no sooner does Mal pull me back, then a pike spear comes jabbing through one of the holes, slicing the air where I was just standing.

  I turn and give him a look.

  Malcolm grins.

  “You’re getting soft, my friend.”

  He chuckles as I shove him away.

  “Una! Una, it’s me!”

  “Hamish!?”

  Malcolm snorts. “Is that your wife in there with the murderous spear?”

  “Indeed, it is,” I grin proudly.

  “I’m coming in,” I growl.

  “Try not to skewer him,” my friend chuckles.

  I step over the fallen Viking and wrench the door open, just in time for my red-haired goddess to come flying into my arms. She hugs me fiercely, half-choking a sob into my chest as I hold her tight.

  “It’s over, little queen,” I say quietly, burying my face in her neck. “I’ve got you, and it’s over.”

  She sinks into my arms as I breathe, turning towards Mal with a frown.

  “Callum?”

  “He veered off before we followed you up here. There was word from some of your guardsmen that some of Tor’s men were headed for the guest quarters.” He nods at Una. “Her friends’ quarters.”

  Una tenses in my arms.

  “We’ll go to them now, my love,” I purr into her ear. “And I’m sure they’re—”

  “Una!”

  A figure come careening around the corner, and I barely have time to get out of the way before Ailith Pembrose goes crashing into my bride.

  “You’re okay!”

  Una hugs her fiercely before she pulls back.

  “Someone rescued me.” Her eyes drag to me, and I see the wildness there in her eyes as she settles them on me.

  But I just smile, shaking my head. “I think you were doing just fine yourself.” I nod at a few of the dead Vikings on the ground—two of them with obvious spear holes in them.

  Una blushes, pulling away from her friend and sliding into my arms.

  “You’re okay? Where’s Rhona and Cat?”

  Ailith nods eagerly. “They’re fine. But Una, I’ve never been more scared in my life! They were at our door, but then Lord Bruce just swept in and dealt with the whole group of them by himself. It was all very exciting!”

  I grin. Seems like Callum saved the day as well.

  “And where is he now?” I frown apprehensively.

  “He’s being tended to by Catriona. He was slightly hurt during the fight, but she’s practiced as a nurse. She’ll make sure he’s okay.”

  Just then, there’s a horn blast from down in the courtyard, which signals that the day is ours. I sigh, glad how things have turned out, but weighing the gravity of the day. We’ve won, but not without losses.

  “To a hard-won victory,” I nod at Malcolm, raising my sword.

  “To fallen brothers,” he growls, his face hardened before slowly, that roguish grin of his spreads across his face as he turns to Ailith.

  “How about a kiss for our victory, my little rose?”

  Ailith goes red as a beet, swallowing thickly as her eyes go wide at my somewhat uncouth friend.

  “Forgive him, my lady,” I growl, shooting him a look. “He forgets his manners.”

  Una steps back into our quarters, surveying the damage, and I’m just about to follow when I realize Ailith and Malcolm are still glaring at each other, and I pause for a moment.

  “Not even a kiss?”

  “I’m still engaged, Lord McAuley,” Ailith hisses under her breath.

  “And yet, why do I remember that not stopping you last time?”

  I freeze, my back to them with my brows arching sharply.

  …Well this just got much more interesting.

  It seems I have a lot to speak to my friend about. But for now, there’s more pressing things to do. Things like tending to our dead and wounded. Things like shoring up the defenses, even if I’m almost positive Tor and his men wouldn’t be stupid enough to try a full assault on a prepared castle.

  Things like wrapping my arms around my bride and thanking the gods that she’s okay before I make sure she knows just how much I love her.

  Chapter 12

  Una

  At first, there was terror, and then it was just numb. But now, a couple of hours after the attack, I almost feel a sense of peace.

  …It doesn’t exactly hurt that I’ve spent almost every second since defending myself with that spear in Hamish’s arms, feeling as safe as I’ve ever felt.

  The marks from the attack on Hamish’s castle—well, my castle now too, I suppose—are still there. But the damage is being taken care of. Fires have been put out, defenses are being mended, and the wounded are being tended to. That’s where Ailith and I are, helping to bring water and fresh supplies to the nurses looking after those hurt in the attack, when we finally bump into Cat again.

  She squeals, rushing into my arms and hugging me fiercely as we rock from side to side.

  “We were so worried about you!” she whispers, still hugging me.

  “And you’re okay?” I bite my lip, eying the blood on her dress. But Cat just grins. “Oh, it’s not mine. I’ve been tending to Lord Bruce. He was hurt defending us, you know.”

  I almost don’t catch it, but when I see that spark in her eyes at the mention of Lord Callum Bruce’s name, I narrow in on it.

  “You’re tending to him?”

  Ailith snorts, and the blush that creeps quickly over Cat’s face is the only other clue I need. I grin widely at her, wagging my brows.

  “Oh, well I do hope you’re taking good care of him, Catriona,” I say with a knowing grin. Cat’s blush only grows deeper as she uncharacteristically stammers for words.

  “He’s wounded, Una,” she says testily, hearing the suggestive tone in my voice.

  “Well isn’t it good he has you them?” Ailith says with a wide grin on her face.

  “I’m a trained nurse, Ailith.”

  She and I both try and hold back our laughter.

  “Right, of course.” My tone is genuine, but my eyes don’t stop grinning at her. Cat blushes deeper.

  “It’s medical, Una,” she snaps.

  I grin. “I’m sure it is.”

  I slowly frown though, looking around the hospital ward that’s been set up in the banquet hall.

  “Wait, wasn’t Rhona with you?”

  Cat frowns right back. “Wait, I thought she went with you, Ailith, to find Una after the attack?”

  All three of us pale for a moment before suddenly, Cat’s shoulders drop, relief washing over her face as she nods past us.

  “There she is. Rhona!”

  Our friend looks pale—paler than she normally is, even. But when she looks up from her seemingly day-dreamy wander through the hall and sees us, her cheeks grow deep pink.

  “You were right behind me!” Ailith scowls, hugging her when comes over. “I turned around and figured you’d stayed with Cat. But where’d you run off to?”

  “Nowhere,” Rhona says testily and breathless, her voice guarded. I glance at Cat, who arches a brow right back at me.

  “Nowhere?” Cat clears her throat. “Is nowhere the reason your lips are all swollen?”

  Rhona’s eyes go wide, her face turning a bright crimson as her hand flies to her mouth.

  “I—no, I…I think I ate something strange.”

  “Uh-huh,” Cat says flatly, smirking at our friend.

  Rhona’s face burns hotly as her eyes dart over the three of us.

  “Well… Ailith has a kiss mark on her neck!”

  Cat and I whirl just in time to see Ailith’s hand fly to the left-hand side of her neck as a little peep of surprise tumbles from her lips.

  “Wait, hold on,” I gasp, staring at my friend. “Do you really?”

  She swallows, her face pink.

  “No.”

  Cat starts laughing. “Says the girl covering her neck up. You do realize at some point, you’re going to need that hand, right?”

 

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