Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Lillian
He was healed.
Kragorn was healed, and yet naught had changed between us. I’d become used to baking for him—the sweets my mother had taught me to make so many years ago—and fetching the tea when the clan council met in his cottage and he held court from the large chair by the fire.
I’d become used to the borrowed finery the women—my new friends—brought me. ‘Twas not really finery, not compared to the gowns some of the women wore at Tarbert Keep, but more comfortable than anything I’d worn before, and an abundance I couldn’t believe.
I’d become used to helping to bathe him because he couldn’t reach far with his arm in the sling.
I’d even become used—although ‘twas more difficult for me—to sleeping curled at his side. I was self-conscious about it at first, afraid I would toss and turn or drool on him, until the day he’d grinned down at me and put a stop to that foolishness.
“Love, I’m half again yer size. There’s naught ye can do to make me uncomfortable, so just go to sleep.”
It made sense.
But it turned out that there was plenty I could do to make myself uncomfortable.
Including the way I rubbed up against Kragorn.
The morning I woke with one leg thrown over his thigh, grinding against his hardness in an attempt to chase the wanton dream I’d been having, I fled outside and grabbed a handful of snow to cool my flaming cheeks.
And the morning I woke with his hand between my thighs?
Good Lord.
I’d been dreaming of such a thing, and I didn’t even think he was awake.
He murmured something and shifted, pressing the heel of his palm against my clitoris, assuaging my ache as he curled his fingers.
I was wearing a borrowed chemise to replace my oft-patched one, and the linen made my skin prickle with awareness as my core throbbed with need.
“Lillian,” he’d rasped, the pads of his fingers pressing the linen into my wetness, and I spread my thighs further, wordlessly offering him the access I craved.
One of my hands went to my breast to knead it through the light material, while the other pressed against my mouth, holding in my moans, desperately afraid he would wake before I finished.
Was it wrong? To find pleasure from a sleeping man like this? But my body ached for this touch, which I’d dreamed of every night since that horrible attack.
I rolled my nipple, bit down hard on my lip to contain my gasp, and arched against his hand.
“Good lass,” he’d murmured, the heel of his palm making small circles, delicious pressure against my clitoris as he curled his fingers.
My climax exploded over me. Unable to help the whimper that escaped my lips, I turned away from him, curling my legs up, allowing my body to spasm and twitch as the pleasure rolled through my limbs.
Just as my inner muscles began to relax, I felt him shift.
“Lillian?” He sounded confused, as if just waking. “What’s amiss?”
“Naught,” I managed to choke, as I rolled out of the bed and stood on shaking legs. “Everything is well. I’ll start the porridge.”
Aye, there were many things I’d become used to, but I still wasn’t certain where I stood with Kragorn. I was his prisoner, his captive, a female he could touch and use any way he wanted. And I…
I wanted that.
I wanted him. I wanted him to touch me, to use me. I wanted to be—not just useful, but used. I wanted him to slake his own lust. I’d bathed him often enough to see and know his cock; I’d even touched it. ‘Twas thick and ridged, just as his tongue was, and the thought of such a thing entering me…
I shuddered, dropping the spoon into the cauldron as I attempted to stir the porridge.
Aye, damn me.
I wanted that. I wanted him.
I wanted him to take me, to fill me with that cock, to make me his, the way he kept claiming I was.
If I were his captive, then I wanted to belong to him in every way, to assuage this ache, this uncertainty.
And he was healed.
The day came when Nan gave her blessing to remove the sling. I don’t think I was the only one holding my breath as I reached around Kragorn’s head to untie the knot in the material we’d been using.
But while my arms were around his shoulders—aye, there was no other way to describe it—he turned his head. Just slightly, as he’d done all those weeks ago in my father’s dungeon. He turned his head, and his lips brushed against my temple.
I stilled.
He’d kissed me that night before my father’s men had attacked, the night I’d come apart in his arms for the first time. If I tipped my head just slightly, I’d be able to brush my lips against his again. I’d be able to recapture that delicious sensation.
I felt him exhale.
“Lillian,” he breathed, and I was reminded of the way he’d said my name the morning I’d gyrated beneath his hand. Had he truly been sleeping then?
Swallowing down my body’s response, I hurried to complete my task before his grandmother noticed my distraction then hobbled away from Kragorn. ‘Twas difficult. From the way he shifted in his chair, his gaze not leaving me, I wondered if ‘twas difficult for him as well.
“Let’s see yer arm, laddie,” Nan instructed, grabbing his wrist and twisting it this way and that. “Nae pain? Nae soreness?”
His lips tugged into a frown. “Well, it doesnae feel good when ye do that, Nan.”
“Do not hurt him,” I blurted, lunging forward. When did I find the audacity to put myself between my captor and his grandmother? Judging from the smirk Nan sent me, she wasn’t offended, but I felt myself pale as I realized what I’d done.
“I mean…” I dropped my gaze. “I am certain he just needs a few more days to heal…”
Forget smirk; Nan burst into outright chuckles as she dropped Kragorn’s arm and moved away to collect the sling and a few of her things.
“Well, I can tell he’s under good protection, lassie, so I’ll leave ye to it. Just keep watching over him, aye? If he needs aught…”
She likely wanted me to assure her I would come fetch her. But I’d been caring for him for weeks now, had I not? I gripped my fingers together and found myself backing toward him.
“I will do whatever he needs me to do.”
The old woman was definitely chuckling as she left the house, but I scarcely noticed, because Kragorn’s hand settled gently on my hip and I realized my breathing had gone all shallow again.
“Whatever I need, lass?” he murmured.
And I swallowed, thinking of that hard, ridged cock, and how he’d brought me pleasure twice now, and how he must also ache for release. But I was his, his captive, and it was my responsibility to care for him in this, was it not?
With my pulse hammering in my ears, I slowly turned, so as not to knock away his touch.
“Aye, Kragorn. W-what do ye need me for?”
I felt his fingers dig into my hip, just for a moment, but I kept my gaze locked over his head, terrified of what I might reveal if I glanced down at his eye.
Would he expect me to drop to my knees here in front of him?
I remembered that position from my sister’s illicit scroll, A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts.
Or would he expect me to bend over and lift my skirts?
A sound like a rumble came—not from his lips, but from Kragorn’s chest, and to my surprise, when he spoke, ‘twas not to make such wickedly wonderful demands.
Rather: “I need a bath. A real bath, lass, in the hot springs. And I need ye to go with me, to ensure I dinnae fall.”
Oh.
Confused, I dropped my gaze to his face, searching for subterfuge. I found only honesty, as he made a show of sniffing himself.
“Hot springs?” I asked, and his brows rose.
“Ye’ve been here how long, and ye havenae visited our hot springs? Och, ‘tis one of the best parts of Bloodfire Village. I cannae believe ye havenae—”
“I am your prisoner,” I reminded him. “I have been here, caring for you.”
Those brows lowered again to a thoughtful frown, and his hand dropped away from my hip, which made me feel…bereft somehow.
“Ye are mine, Lillian, aye, but no’ my prisoner. Never my prisoner.”
I blinked, uncertain what he meant.
“Not…?”
In a sudden explosion of movement, Kragorn stood, catching me by my shoulders when I stumbled backward.
“Ye’re going to bathe with me, lass. Get yer things. I ken ye’ll enjoy it.”
I told myself I was obeying him because he was my master, but that didn’t explain why I so eagerly met him by the door, my soap and cleaning rag clutched in my hands.
It didn’t explain why I was almost breathless in anticipation as he settled my borrowed shawl around my shoulders, or the way I snugged up against his side as I shuffled through the stamped-down snow.
Or why his statement that I wasn’t his prisoner was only a glimmer shoved quickly to the back of my mind.
He couldn’t have meant it. I knew how the world worked.
No one could have been treated as harshly as Kragorn had and not make use of a hostage against further attack.
Mayhap I wasn’t exactly a prisoner – I’d had full run of the cottage and the village for weeks now, and my treatment by the villagers had been accepting and kind – but my main purpose was as revenge against my father.
Kragorn may enjoy my service – and my body – while I was here. But I knew in my heart I was only a hostage. My only value lay in what safety I could bring to his people.
No matter how different my feelings this time, I was again naught but a pawn to a powerful man.
“Here, lass, ye’re shivering,” he said abruptly, wrapping one of his arms around me and pulling me closer. “I’ll need ye here in case I slip and fall.”
“To catch you?” I struggled out of my despairing thoughts.
“Aye.” I heard the smile in his voice. “To catch me.”
He was wrapped in my father’s fine fur cloak, and now so was I. A fitting reminder of my transfer of ownership.