Chapter 24
THE COMMAND MADE her tremble, even as excitement slugged her in the belly.
She willingly complied, dropping to her knees on the dusty floor. Her kirtle would be covered in soot after this, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.
Instead, she reached for him, one hand instinctively cupping the weight of his bollocks while the other traced the straining length of his shaft with her fingertips.
“Right,” he said, his voice tight now. “Wrap yer fingers around the base of me.”
He paused then as she complied. “That’s right … a little firmer. Glide it up and down slowly, mind, and stroke my stones with yer other hand.”
Need now pulsed between her thighs as she did his bidding, feeling his shaft grow harder and hotter still under her grip.
“Take me in yer mouth now,” he ground out.
She eagerly complied. He tasted musky, slightly salty—delicious.
“Good lass.” His voice sounded choked now. “Lick around the base of the crown with yer tongue.”
She flicked the tip of her tongue as bid and was rewarded by a deep, guttural groan. Encouraged, she continued to stroke him with her hand and started to suck the tip.
Greig rasped a throaty curse. “Take me in deeper … into yer mouth. Slide yer lips up and down my prick.” He bit the words out now, his voice catching. “All the way … that’s it.”
Hearing him so transported excited her even further, and she changed position slightly before sinking her mouth down on him, bringing him as deep as she could.
The size of him tugged at her jaw, but she didn’t care. Still stroking his bollocks with one hand and holding the base of his rod with the other, she started to work him.
Greig’s fingers tangled in her hair, and his hands guided her gently, encouraging her to take him deeper still. “Aye, lass … take it all.”
As the tip of his rod hit the back of her throat, her eyes started to water, yet the pleasure that now coiled once more in her lower belly urged her on. She’d never thought she’d love such an act, but she did.
Once again, just like when she’d seen him give himself over to sensation when she touched him earlier, it was heady—a moment of both vulnerability and power.
Although he had taken her to her peak earlier, she could feel something building once more.
She sucked him enthusiastically then, letting out a cry of disappointment when he gently drew her off his straining prick. He then pulled her to her feet and lifted her onto the bench once more.
“Yer mouth is sweet indeed, Brì,” he said roughly, splaying her legs wide and stroking the weeping tip of his rod between her spread thighs. “But it’s yer hot quim I want to lose myself in.”
His words inflamed her, and she forgot her disappointment, trembling as he hooked his hand under one knee and lifted her leg so that her hips rocked up to meet him.
And then, slowly, inch by inch, he worked himself into her.
She was tight—no surprise there, as it was her first time—yet there was no pain, just discomfort that made her breath quicken.
What if she couldn’t take him?
But the fear was fleeting, for the steady pressure, the firm weight of him, sank deeper and deeper until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
“Oh,” she whispered. “That feels …” Her voice drifted off as she struggled to find an adequate description.
“Tell me then,” he said, slowly rocking his hips against her so that their pelvises ground together.
Her breathing caught. “So … full,” she whispered. “Complete.”
His dark gaze seized hers. “Aye. That’s because this is right.” His voice was husky now. “We were made to fit together, ye and I.”
And they were. She knew it too.
He rolled his hips, and pleasure clutched deep inside her. She’d thought she’d been wet before, ready for him, but it felt as if her loins were melting now.
And as he started to move inside her, swiving her in slow, deep thrusts, her core began to tingle, and an exquisite rippling sensation deep inside followed.
Brìghde bit down on her lower lip. She wanted to cry out, to make wanton, animalistic sounds. But despite that they had relative privacy here, she held herself back.
He started to move a little faster, deeper, his hand pushing her knee back even further.
“God, Brìghde,” he gasped as he plowed her. “Ye feel so damn good.”
She whimpered, letting her eyes close as pleasure twisted and tension tightened even more.
“Open yer eyes, lass,” he said roughly. “Look at me as we do this. I want us to stay together … right to the end.”
Her eyes sprang open, and then their gazes locked, and true to his word, he held her fast.
His words inflamed her, moved her.
With his free hand, he braced himself against the bench, his hips lifting and pumping now.
Brìghde’s lips parted. “Oh God, Greig,” she cried. “This is—too—oh God—”
And, gaze still fused with his, she splintered, her hips thrusting wildly, her body shuddering as exquisite sensation throbbed and pulsed.
And all the while, they looked at each other.
His face went taut, a nerve flickering in his cheek, his breathing hitching, his broad chest swelling.
He cursed then and thrust deep—so deep—one last time, before heat washed through her core.
Greig braced himself there against the bench, still buried inside Brìghde’s unforgettable body.
His heart was racing like a bolting stag. His gut was molten, sweat slicked his skin, and his legs had turned to porridge. He wasn’t sure whether, if he hadn’t been bracing himself against the bench, he would have remained upright.
Smiling, for she’d done as he demanded and not broken his gaze, Brìghde wrapped a leg around his hips, drawing him firmly against her, keeping him inside.
By God, he was irresponsible, taking her like this—spilling inside her so recklessly.
He was an idiot, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
They’d both wanted this, and to withdraw from her at the critical moment had seemed wrong somehow.
Greig’s heart kicked.
It mattered not anyway. He couldn’t imagine walking away from her now—not after this.
He’d known he cared for Brìghde for a while, even before he’d disgraced himself on the summit of Ben More. He’d just let propriety get in the way of his feelings. But seeing her tonight, dancing with her, talking to her, had sent him over the edge.
There was no denying the truth of it now. He’d fallen hard for this woman. He couldn’t bear to be kept apart from her. And now that he’d taken Brìghde, now that he was buried inside her still, the certainty that she was his grew even stronger.
This wasn’t what he’d thought life would hand him, but then neither had an English blade to the thigh been part of his plans. Nor was Alistair’s death. Sometimes, fate had other plans.
From the moment he and Brìghde Boyd had started spending time together, he’d been losing the battle—but acknowledging just how deeply this woman moved him also made him acknowledge that he now had a very big problem.
Alistair.
He really hoped his brother’s shade wasn’t looking over them now, seething in jealousy at seeing Greig swive the woman he had wanted.
Guilt constricted his ribcage then.
Foolish, really, for Alistair and Brìghde had never been a couple. Yet he felt like a heel, nonetheless.
This was his fault, for scorning the idea that a man could ever fall for the Forge Maiden.
Indeed, on that day, when Tàirneanach had thrown a shoe, he’d run a disdainful gaze over her, seeing only what others saw: a tall, strong woman, practical and hard-working, dressed in a sooty leather apron, wielding a hammer.
He’d thought such a lass would never tempt him.
Oh, how wrong he’d been.
Now, she was all he wanted.
However, for him to be able to enjoy this, to be able to move forward, he had to be truthful with her. About everything.
Lifting a hand, surprised to find it trembling slightly, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek.
Brìghde gazed up at him, eyes half-closed, as the torpor that followed their torrid coupling caught hold of her. He could feel it too—the need to curl himself around her and fall into a soft bed and sleep.
But he couldn’t.
Not with all this unsaid.
“Brìghde …” He swallowed. “There’s something I should have told ye before now.”
The words felt wrong even as he spoke them, yet saying nothing felt worse.
“Aye,” she murmured, her full lips curving slightly. “Go ahead.”
He cleared his throat, his pulse quickening. He didn’t want to shatter the moment, to break the spell, but he owed her this.
He owed Alistair too.
Suddenly, he wished he’d been honest with her right from the beginning.
“Ye remember Alistair’s list?”
“Aye,” she said drowsily, lifting a hand and tracing the whorls of hair on his chest. Her touch was soft and sensual, and his rod started to stiffen inside her. She gave a breathy moan as she too felt it.
With difficulty, Greig reined himself in.
He needed to concentrate.
He couldn’t tumble her again. Not until he’d said this.
“Well … there was one more thing on it. Something that mattered more to him than anything else. Something I didn’t tell ye.”
She stilled then, curiosity lighting in her eyes. “Really? Now ye have me intrigued. Go on.”
“He said that … that he wished to win the Forge Maiden’s heart.”
Brìghde blinked. For a heartbeat, she didn’t understand.
And then she did.
She stiffened, her smile fading. “What?”
“Ye probably had no idea … but Al was soft on ye. He had been for years … but he was shy with the lasses and never let on. A couple of months before his death, he told me of his list … and ye were on it.”
Greig paused then, his pulse quickening.
This wasn’t going well. He could see the change in her face, the narrowing of her eyes. But now that he’d begun, he had to finish. “I’ll admit I teased him over it.”
He’d actually done more than that, but he wouldn’t admit so. He didn’t want to hurt her. Quite frankly, he was ashamed of himself. “But Al made it clear that he wanted ye, and that, one day, he’d gather the courage to woo ye.”
Silence fell between them then.
Brìghde’s body was no longer languid and supple against his, but rigid.
As a result, his shaft softened once more inside her.
There was no thought of coupling now from either of them.
“And so … I was yer last challenge?” she said, her tone cooling. “The final thing to tick off Alistair’s list?”
“No—that’s not it at all. To tell ye the truth, right from the beginning, I discounted it.
I didn’t tell ye because it wasn’t why I came to ye” —he broke off, dragging a hand through his hair— “God’s blood, I’m saying this badly.
What I mean is … ye weren’t a task to me.
Not ever. Believe me, wooing ye was the furthest thing from my mind. ”
He tensed, his heart kicking.
Shite. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Hurt flared dark in her eyes. “The furthest thing from yer mind?”
“I was too sorry for myself to think about wooing anyone,” he said hurriedly, even as heat flared across his face. The devil’s cods, he was making a bloody mess of this.
“I don’t believe ye.” She then placed a hand on his chest and firmly pushed back, making it clear she no longer wanted to be joined with him.
Greig withdrew from her and yanked up his braies, hastily lacing them.
Meanwhile, Brìghde pulled up her lèine and kirtle, her movements sharp and jerky now. She then wriggled off the bench and pushed down her rumpled skirts.
“Ye are a man who can’t resist a challenge, Greig.
How it must have bothered ye … that one last task, mocking ye.
” Her gaze raked over him in a way that made his belly harden, as if she stripped him bare, as if she saw the truth of who he really was—and didn’t like it one bit.
“I should have known.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, even as anger burned in those grey eyes, turning them thunderous.
“A man like ye doesn’t look twice at a woman like me …
not unless there’s a reason. But, fool that I am, I let myself believe it. ”
“Ye believed it because it’s the truth, Brì,” he replied, stepping forward, his hand lifting to take hers.
However, she shook her head and took a sharp step back, widening the gap between them. “No, Greig, no more lies. Ye’ve done enough damage.”
“Brìghde,” he said, his voice low and fierce, “listen to me. None of this was feigned. Surely, ye know me well enough to realize that’s not the sort of man I am? Do ye think I’d bother to court ye with false smiles and honeyed words? That’s not my way.”
And it wasn’t.
He was a charmless bastard.
“No, not usually,” Brìghde replied, pain rippling across her features. High spots of color had risen to her cheekbones. “But … ye’re also not a man that likes to be beaten. Especially by a woman.”
He exhaled sharply, fighting for control.
“Ye’re not listening to me.” His own temper was rising now.
It was as if the lass had stuffed wool into her ears and was deaf to everything he said.
“I am in earnest. I want ye. I want to be with ye. I know our ranks separate us, but I don’t care.
If ye agree to be my wife, I’ll ask my father. I’ll make a case for it. I’ll—”
“Stop,” she cut him off, her voice turning shrill. “Ye’re just making it worse.”
He stared back at her as if she’d just slapped him.
“Ye feel remorse now, don’t ye?” she continued. “Now that ye’ve had yer way with me, yer damn sense of honor means that ye need to do the right thing. Tonight might leave me with bairn, and ye don’t want a bastard arriving, do ye? That wouldn’t please yer father either.”
“Ye’re twisting my words,” he cut back, knowing he should soften his voice but unable to.
All the while, though, his gut had twisted into knots.
This had gone even worse than he could have possibly imagined.
It was his fault. He’d approached it all wrong. He should have told her from the first—or held his tongue forever.
No one would have known. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Davy, about the last item on Alistair’s list. Curse him. He’d ruined everything.
“Was any of it real?” she asked softly.
That hurt him more than anything else she’d said. “Aye,” he managed. “All of it.”
She shook her head. “Let us forget tonight happened.” Brìghde backed up toward the door of the forge. “I’ll visit Hazel Maclean at Moy Castle tomorrow. Word is, she makes tonics for women who don’t wish their womb to quicken. Ye need not worry. This won’t come back to bite ye.”
“Brìghde,” he ground out. “Just stop.”
“No.” She shook her head fiercely, grabbed the door, and hauled it open. “Ye stop, Greig. Stay away from me from now on.”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness, her bare feet whispering on the grass, leaving Greig alone in the forge.