Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (3 page)

Vika sighed. She’d simply have to wait until
they returned on the morrow to find out, she supposed.

* * *

‘Twas a long and bumpy ride to where e’er
Robert was taking her. Morgana hadn’t known exactly what to expect
when she’d settled on the bench in the chapel a few hours past. But
she certainly hadn’t foreseen being gagged, blindfolded, and tied
up. Nor, hefted like a sack of grain into the back of a wagon and
taken to God knew where in the middle of the night. She would have
been deeply afraid that she was the victim of some violent man’s
scheme, had she not continued to hear Robert’s voice speaking in
muted tones to what seemed to be at least three other men
throughout the journey.

The cart began a long, rough ascent some
three or more hours into their travel and she rolled and slid until
she finally found purchase against one of its sides. The air was
growing colder as they progressed, but she was well protected from
the wind by the covering o’er the top of the cart.

‘Twas not long before she heard Robert call
a halt and the conveyance came to a creaking, shivering stop. In
the next moment, she was hauled up and o’er
someone’s—Robert’s?—shoulder and bounced roughly as he moved up
some steps and through a narrow doorway.

He set her on her feet, but only long enough
to fling wide her cloak and slit the front of her gown and chemise
down the front. ‘Twas done so quickly, she barely had time to
realize what had happened before she was lifted in his arms and
positioned on what she assumed was a narrow bed with tall posts at
the end, because he spread her legs wide, wrapped her knees around
the posts and then scooted her down to the edge. It made her thighs
burn and quiver, to be spread in such a manner. Tears of strain
leaked from her eyes, making the blind o’er them grow damp.

He still had said not a word to her and now
she was beginning to be afraid. Was this how ‘twas done then?
Somehow, she’d gotten the impression that ‘twas a gentler act than
this. Her heart pounded so, that she could feel its pulse hammering
in the side of her neck. She couldn’t catch her breath.

The same two beefy, long-fingered, warm
hands that had dealt with her legs, now took hold of her bound
wrists and lifted them o’er her head, tying them to a post on that
end as well.

Oh God, what was he going to do to
her?
Why had she agreed to this?
Would he kill her now?
She was completely helpless—totally at his mercy. A dank smell of
must filled her nostrils, the sound of a man’s rough grunts flashed
in her memory. She began to quake.

But then something wonderful began to
happen. Those same huge, strong hands commenced a slow, sensual
glide o’er her bare breasts, down her rib cage, and o’er her
abdomen, then up again to tease the peaks of her breasts. A warm,
suctioning feeling came next, along with the sensation of puffs of
hot breath against her sensitive skin. A hot thrill ran through her
as first one crest and then the other was caressed in this manner,
followed again by gentle fingers as that humid suction traveled
down and o’er her abdomen and settled with blindingly pleasurable
accuracy o’er the apex of her sex.

Morgana’s back arched and every muscle in
her frame went rigid with sheer delight. Her mouth opened wide
under the gag and she felt a silent scream in her throat. His
tongue began a magic dance and she started once again to quake and
tremble—this time, with pleasure. He rolled her nipples between his
thumb and forefinger and pinched them, causing a slight pain. She
saw pinpricks of light behind her lids just before her womb
convulsed, and then she splintered apart.

As she was floating back down to earth and
hearing her breathing, still harsh, but slowing to a bit more of a
normal meter, he shocked her by starting the process all o’er
again. This time, when she felt that ultimate bliss, she began to
cry. The pleasure was more acute this time, almost painful in its
scope. She prayed he would stop now, for she knew she wouldn’t be
able to take another from him so soon.

Somehow, he must have known, because she
felt him rise up between her thighs. Felt the wiry hair from his
own muscular, hard thighs tickling and softly abrading the tender
skin on the insides of her legs. She felt something warm, something
long and thick, smooth, but with a blunt, rounded tip caressing the
outer lips of her sex. Was this his manly yard? She’d ne’er seen
one, but she’d heard the ladies speak of them. It certainly matched
their descriptions.

She felt the blunt tip pressing into the
center of her. She barely had time to get accustomed to the odd
feeling before she was ripped asunder by his rough, rapid entry.
She jerked and tried to pull herself back, but he had hold of her
hips and rammed into her again.
This cannot be the right
way.
Scalding tears burned her cheeks.
Surely, I will die
from this.

* * *

“God, Vika, you’ve been practicing,” Robert
growled. “Loose your grip on me, else I’ll not last long enough to
pleasure you.” He knew he wasn’t supposed to speak—this was one of
the requisites she’d given him for this lovers’ game—but he
couldn’t keep silent. Christ, she was squeezing him in a hot, moist
vise along every inch of his cock. And it felt good.
Too
good.

But she didn’t comply. Instead, she
tightened around him even more. He jerked and shuddered, grinding
into her e’er harder as he lost the battle and, with a vociferous
shout, erupted inside of her. Just as he began to slow, as the last
eddies of visceral satisfaction were rippling up from his tarse,
into his loins, and out into his being, she lifted her hips and
started moving against him. When he felt the strong muscles of her
canal begin to milk him, he rose up on that crest again with a
ragged moan and this time he thought he’d die from the eviscerating
pleasure it gave him.

When ‘twas over, when the only sound in the
small chamber of the stone cot was the hiss of their breath as they
struggled to fill their lungs, Robert slowly slid out of his lover
and walked over to the wall sconce. Swiving Vika had ne’er been
that bone-numbingly satiating before. Hell, his ears still rung
from the explosive climaxes she’d given him. Which bode very well
for their marriage, a thing he was determined to have with her.

And this night, and the nights following,
with them having no means of preventing conception of a babe, would
seal the bargain. For, he’d spend inside her how e’er many times it
took to get her with child and force her to give him her hand. And
the coin that came with it.

He’d not used the sheath on his cock, as
she’d demanded he use in her note, but she’d told him before that
she could ne’er tell when he used the thing in any case, and this
game proved to be a perfect opportunity to begin as he meant to go
on. ‘Twas a desperate plan—and one that could easily go awry—but
‘twas the only one he had at his disposal. In fact, he might just
get hanged for such a reckless move, but he had no other choice
open to him, not any longer, and he was determined to take complete
advantage of it.

After lighting the end of the torch he
strode over to gather up a taper from the trestle table by the
hearth and lit it as well. He arched a brow, studying the hearth
for a split second, but then decided he’d best light the thing
after he’d made Vika more comfortable.

He turned back toward the bed, took a couple
of steps, then stopped short. First shock, then unmitigated anger,
filled him. “Was this your idea, or did Vika arrange it?” All at
once he realized the lass—What was her name? Oh, yes,
Morgana
—still had the gag in her mouth.

With angry strides, he took the last few
steps over to the bedside and loosed the ties that bound her. Tho’
‘twould not give her a voice, he knew, for he’d heard the tale
these past sennights that she’d not said a word since she was a wee
bairn. And what e’er had caused her to lose her voice, had also
turned her dark hair the color of the silver moon on the blackest,
most starless night of the year.

His eye scanned down to her sex, to see how
dark were the curls that covered her mound. ‘Twas then that he
noticed the blood. On her sex, and on her thighs.

He lifted the hem of his shirt and looked
beneath. His cock was red from it as well. He had a bit of it
streaked on his right thigh and his groin hair was damp with the
stuff.
Blood of CHRIST!
A
virgin.
He’d forgotten she
was an innocent not long from the nunnery.

He turned his attention back to his newly
initiated lover, at a bit of a loss as to what to do, as this was
the first one he’d e’er taken. He was going to strangle Vika for
this, he truly was. For, now that he’d had time to think on it, he
was convinced that this was one of Vika’s
amusing
tricks she
liked to play on her unsuspecting lovers. Or—had she learned of his
own scheme and decided to confound the plot? Aye, knowing Vika and
her court minions, ‘twas no doubt the case.

* * *

Morgana blinked and looked around. She was
inside a very masculine chamber. There were hunting knives, bows
for hunting, and other weapons hanging from the far stone wall. Her
eye settled on Robert’s visage at last. She’d avoided it at first,
feeling a bit too shy after what they’d just done, to look him
fully in the face. Besides, he was angry now that he’d discovered
the switch. She saw where his eye was settled and looked there
herself.
God in Heaven!
Her pulse spiked.
Is this
punishment for my fleshly lust?
She’d known there would be
blood, but not this much. Had Robert torn her? Was her womb ruined?
It had certainly hurt more than she’d been told it would.

In fact, she’d been sure she’d die from the
searing pain of it. But then, when she’d heard his ground-out
words, his moans of rapture, felt his body straining toward that
ultimate joy as her own had done, she’d realized ‘twas because of
the satisfaction he was receiving by being inside of
her
,
and the feeling had changed to one of pleasure.

Oh, there had still been a terrible burning
sensation, but that had been overtaken by the growing delight
until, finally, she’d been able to ignore the hurt, and begun to
enjoy the feeling of him stroking in and out of her. Enjoyed it to
such a degree that she’d found that ultimate bliss once more, but
this time with him deep inside her and finding his own bliss as
well. She’d thought it wonderful. And incredibly satisfying. Her
breathing calmed. Aye, wonderful. So, surely not a punishment then?
But the gore of it must be why virginal ladies are ne’er told in
detail about the carnal act, for they’d ne’er agree to it then.

She tried to bring her legs up o’er the
posts, but she was too stiff, so she settled back. Mayhap ‘twas
best, for now, not to move very much until she was sure that she
was all right. She turned her head and looked at him again,
motioning as best she could that she needed something with which to
cleanse herself.

Thanks be to heaven, he understood her and
turned toward one of two buckets and a ladle that sat in the
corner. There was a trunk next to them, from which he pulled a
linen cloth. First, he washed himself. Then he brought one of the
buckets of water and the cloth o’er to the end of the bed and
settled on his knees between her thighs.

* * *

“ ‘Twill be cold. Ready yourself.” Robert
bent to the task, ignoring Morgana’s sharp intake of breath at the
first contact of frigid, damp cloth to hot, tender skin.

Black. The hair on her mons was as black as
his own soul. And the flesh beneath, as red and succulent as the
ripest winter berry. He felt his cock stir to life, but ignored
that, too. He’d not chance another time with her. At least, not
until they were back at the abbey and had access to the means to
prevent conception.

He’d made sure there was naught like that
here when he’d planned the adventure. He pressed his lips together
in a thin line. Aye, he’d expected to stay here with Vika for at
least a moon. Her father had left the King’s court two days past
and would not return for quite a time, mayhap even two moons. It
had been the best and only opportunity Robert had had to try to get
Vika to agree to wed him, for no one would look for her during
those sennights, understanding that she was with her current
lover.

* * *

Morgana flinched when Robert pressed a bit
too hard as he wiped away further remnants of her first carnal
experience. He lightened his touch, but remained as mute as she.
What was he thinking? Was he still angered by her and Vika’s
duplicity? Had he enjoyed taking her? And, more importantly,
would he do so again, now that he knew her identity?

That question plagued her more than she was
willing to admit to herself. For, truth be told, his gentle
cleansing of her was making her blood heat for him again. But,
mayhap, ‘twas too soon to do the deed again? She knew not for
certain.

How often could a man perform the act? Was
it once a night? Once a sennight? Or once a moon? Mayhap that was
the reason her cousin had taken so many lovers. If ladies could
take a man more often than a man was capable of performing, then
that would certainly make sense.

* * *

“ ‘Tis unlikely you’ll conceive this first
time but, if you do, there is a woman I’ve heard spoken of that
knows what can be done about it,” Robert said into the silence,
startling his mute companion enough to make her jolt. Ignoring the
reaction, he dropped the cloth into the water and swirled it
around, ridding it of the blood and making the water turn an even
rosier hue in the process.

He shrugged. “Otherwise: Bastards are
whelped everyday; one more will make no difference.” He gave her a
piercing look. “But you’ll get no wedding vows from me, so do not
think a babe in your belly will sway me to do so.”