I would be lying to say that the arousing nature of his words didn’t intrigue me. They did. Would I feel that internal mark seared upon my soul with as much pleasure as I had experienced the welts and bruises he left upon my backside?
I couldn’t imagine that I would.
But worse, I couldn’t imagine that he would.
I tried to tell myself that men could enjoy such a thing. After all, my sister had found two warriors willing to share her bed and her love. But that was love. She loved them both and they both loved her enough to keep her forever. It was an entirely different situation. I couldn’t imagine that my laird would truly want this…unless it was to discard me.
Which made my tears brim again.
“You’re frightened,” he said, tracing my trembling lower lip. “But I will not let you come to harm, lass. This is no different than when I took your arse. First you felt the pain and the shame of it, but then pleasure, too. A great deal of pleasure.”
“I don’t want pleasure!” I cried, though that was only partially true. “Don’t you know that my happiness rests on feeding your needs my laird?”
“This will feed my needs,” he vowed, softly stroking my hair from my eyes. “I promise you it will. There are dark hungers in me; I’ve never lied to you about that. This is one of them. What’s more, it is a desire that only you can satisfy. It is not merely that I wi
sh to share a woman with another man. It is that I wish to share you. I wish to do this to you. I have been so unsettled these past days and this will give me some relief. The first true relief I will have from my worries in weeks. For this sake, I am asking you not to resist me. I am asking you to be true to your word when you pledged your obedience to me.”
That pledge, that promise, made as it was in fear, had become something else between us entirely. It had become my own personal pledge of fealty, my own shield of honor, and it was all tangled in the love I felt for him. I would never break it. Not even if it meant the loss of him. Because to break my vow to him would be to break whatever strength still was at the core of me.
Warriors fought and died to keep their honor.
I would keep mine, too, sullied though it was.
“I will be true,” I said, hoping that he knew I meant more by it than just this.
“Complete obedience,” the laird reminded me. “Because if the man I share you with senses the slightest resistance from you it will all go badly…”
And then I knew.
I knew who he would share me with.
He was going to share me with his kinsman, Ian Macrae.
Ian, who had once told me that the laird was the devil, and that the things he did to his women should make them lay abed all day in tears. Ian, who had believed me to have been forced to the laird’s bed, until he saw with his own eyes how truly willing I was. Ian would never touch me if he thought—for even a moment—that he did not have my consent.
That is why the laird wanted to be sure of me.
“Not Ian,” I groaned, miserably. “Of all the men…”
The laird seemed slightly affronted. “What is so very wrong with Ian?”
“Brenna loves him,” I blurted, though it wasn’t even the start of my long list of reasons I would have preferred to be shared with any other man.
The laird scratched a bit at his ear in frustration. “Brenna? The squeaky maid? You cannot be worrying about her.”
“She’s my friend,” I whispered.
“And I’m your laird!” His fist came crashing down on the chess table, toppling several pieces and ruining the game. “My castle, and my clan, and all my life’s work will not be lost for the sweet sentiments of a maid. Her feelings are not your concern. Mine are. And I am asking something of you. Asking and commanding.”
I startled at his temper, and his words. That he thought his castle, and his clan, and his life’s work were somehow all bound up in this promise he was asking of me did not make any sense. But it was so important to him that I quickly acquiesced. “I will do as you ask. Ian will not sense a drop of resistance in me,” I promised, though there was, within me, an ocean of bitter resistance to this.
I couldn’t let anyone see it. That’s what harlots were meant to do.
Hide their feelings, and pretend at pleasure, was it not?
He appraised me carefully, as if sensing the artifice. “I want you to find pleasure in his body as you do with mine.”
That I cannot do, said the rebel within. But I would pretend, so I nodded.