Bertrice Small - Love Wild and Fair

"Cat! I thought ye sought yer bed." He sat down beside her.

"I like sitting alone before a fire in the dark of night," she said.

"Do ye like Glenkirk, my love?"

"Aye," she said slowly. "I wasna sure I would. I remember it to be bigger, but I suppose I saw it wi a child's eyes. It's really a lovely little castle."

"Then ye will be happy living here?"

"Yes." Her voice was a whisper.

They sat quietly for several minutes, then Catriona spoke.

"My lord, would ye kiss me? Not like before, but a real kiss. I hae spoken wi both Mama and my Ellen. They say the kiss ye gave me to seal our bargain was quite proper, but-" she paused, and bit her lower lip-"but a real kiss has more substance."

She lay back, her leaf-green eyes glittering in the firelight. Slowly he bent and touched her lips with his. Gently, gradually, he increased the pressure, and then her arms were around him.

"Ohh, my lord," she said breathlessly when his mouth released hers. "That was ever so much better! Again, please."

He willingly complied and, with astonishment, felt her little tongue flick along his lips. A moment later she spoke again.

"Did ye like that, my lord? Mama said the sensation is quite pleasurable."

It suddenly came to him that she was experimenting with the things Heather had told her about, but was feeling nothing herself. Chancing her anger, he caught her in his arms and, running his hand from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, molded her to his body. Fiercely, his mouth took possession of hers. Using all his expertise, he gently but insistently forced her lips apart. Plunging deep within her mouth, he caressed her tongue with his, and rejoiced silently when a great shudder tore through her. He could feel her rising panic as she tried to struggle, but he held her firmly until it pleased him to release her.

"Patrick," she gasped, and burst into tears.

He gathered her up and soothed her. "There, hinny. There," he murmured at her while his big hand stroked her lovely hair. "Dinna greet, my love."

"Why did ye do that?” she demanded through her tears.

"Because, my precious little bride-to-be, ye were experimenting wi me the things yer lovely, feather-headed mother has told you. Ye did them without feeling anything yourself. Never, my sweet Cat, never make love unless ye feel it yourself."

"I did feel it."

"What did ye feel?" he asked.

"I felt-I felt-Oh, God's foot! I dinna know what I felt then. I simply didn't want ye to stop, but then I did. I was all churned up inside, and…" She stopped, confused.

He stood and helped her up. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked gravely down into her face. "When I was a lad of thirteen years I was formally betrothed to a wee maid of but four. After the religious ceremony was over, we were seated in a place of honor, and a servant brought refreshments. The wench's blouse was low, and I was just beginning an interest in the female form. I could not take my eyes from those fat white bouncing boobs. Suddenly, the child by my side poured her wine into the girl's cleavage, and scolded me roundly. I fell in love in that moment, and I have stayed in love all these years."

She looked up at him. "I am forever hearing of your conquests. How can ye claim to love me when yer life is so full wi other women?"

"A man has special needs, Cat. If he is unmarried and has no wife to satisfy those needs, then he must seek elsewhere."

"Do ye seek elsewhere now?" she asked.

"Especially now. Damnit, Cat! I want you! Naked in my bed wi your lovely hair in disarray crying out for love of me!"

She felt a little thrill run through her at his words, and looking up at him said, "If ye will gie up yer other women, Patrick, I will wed wi ye on St. Valentine's Day of the new year. If ye would say good morning and good night to yer true love, then it must be adieu to all your other women."

"Would ye dictate to me, sweetheart?"

"I will nae share ye, Patrick. I will come to ye a virgin, and ye may make of me what ye will for yer pleasure. But I must be yer only love."

"When we are wed I will consider it," he laughed. "Now off to yer cold bed, you nagging little minx, before I lose my self-control and take away yer right to wear yer beautiful hair unbound on our wedding day."

Giving him a pouting look, she left the room. Patrick chuckled. What a wench she was, his Cat Hay! Not yet married to him, and already trying to run his life. Well, he knew two things now. His bride was not the ice maiden he thought she might be, and life with her was certainly not going to be dull!

BY the following afternoon, Glenkirk Castle bulged with Leslies and Hays. Because she was to marry the earl, Catriona was spared the ordeal of the dormitory with her cousins. Fiona also escaped that fate because of her age, and because she was a widow.

Upon learning that Catriona had been at the castle for the past ten days she hurried to find her and do what mischief she could. Cat was embroidering in the family hall, and was alone. Fiona settled herself.

"Well, little cousin. How do ye like Glenkirk Castle?"

"Very much," said Cat. "I'll enjoy being mistress here." She shot Fiona a wicked look.

Fiona gritted her teeth. "Yer a brave lass to go into the wolfs maw as calmly as ye do."

"What on earth do ye mean?"

"Lord, child! Ye must know Glenkirk's reputation."

"His women." Cat feigned boredom. "God's toenail, Fiona! Everyone knows Glenkirk's a devil wi the lasses. Tell me something I don't know."

"All right, my dear, I shall." She lowered her voice, and leaned forward. "They say that Glenkirk's cock is too big. They say he's built like a bull. Having been married I know, and I must pass this on to ye. We Leslie women are very tiny. A big cock can tear us asunder. Why my late husband, Lord Stewart, was of an average size, yet when he planted himself in me on our wedding night…" She paused for effect, gleefully noting Catriona's white face. "Well, cousin! The pain was terrible, and it got worse each time. God assoil him! It was a mercy to me when Owen died!"

"But I'm a Hay, Fiona. It canna be the same wi me!"

"Yer mother was a Leslie, cousin. Daughters are fashioned after their mothers. I certainly dinna envy ye."

Terrified, Cat repeated the conversation to Ellen. "Not so," said Ellen firmly. "That Fiona Stewart is just trying to scare ye. There's but a moment's pain the first time when the virgin shield is broken. After that it's just fine. Yer cousin is hot for the earl herself, the wicked hussy! She's trying to frighten ye off. Little silly." She ruffled the girl's hair. "All yer mother does is moon after yer father. Is that the act of a woman who suffers constant pain?"

Annoyed at having been so easily spooked by her feline cousin, Cat watched Fiona to see if Ellen was right. Fiona grasped every opportunity to be near Patrick, to wear her lowest-cut gowns, to display her ample charms. The bitch, Cat thought! The red-haired bitch! She looked for her brother. Finding him, she said,

"Jemmie, tell me what ye know about Cousin Fiona."

Jemmie snickered. "It's said she's overgenerous wi her favors, but I hae never gotten her into bed. They say the bairn she bore Stewart was not his. He was such a weakling it's doubtful he ever stuck it in her." He looked at his sister. "Ye like Glenkirk now, don't ye, Cat?"

"Aye."

"Then beware Cousin Fiona, for it's plain to see she's stalking him, though I doubt poor Glenkirk realizes it."

But Patrick was quite well aware of Fiona's interest, and had Cat not been staying in the castle, he might even have amused himself for a bit with his hot-blooded, red-haired cousin. He knew the whispers about her were probably true, but it might be fun to confirm them.