Read The Highlander Takes a Bride for Free Online Page B
Authors: Lynsay Sands
he was thrusting into.
Just the thought made his cock harden further, pulling the skin painfully tight and squeezing his balls uncomfortably. Hell, he thought as he rushed out of the keep. Mayhap he should have said nay to the woman staying. She was a lady after all, not someone he could use for his pleasure and send on her way like the camp followers and Millys of the world.
Speaking of Milly, he thought wryly as she suddenly appeared before him, hands on hips, breasts thrust forward and a leering smile on her face.
“Me laird,” she breathed, moving close and searching the front of his plaid until she latched onto his erection. Her eyes widened incredulously. “Oooooh, someone is in need o’ me care.”
She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him, but Greer found himself pulling back. She must have eaten onions since he’d seen her last for her breath was most unpleasant. And her face was dirty, he noted. She had dark smudges on her chin, her cheek and her forehead. Her hair was none too clean either, not flowing soft around her cheeks like Lady Saidh’s, but hanging limp to her shoulders. The only good thing was that the combination was having a calming effect on his body. Rather than a log fit for the fire, he now had half that and still shrinking.
“What’s the matter?” Milly asked with a frown.
“Nothing,” he assured her, gently disengaging her hand from his body. “There is something I need to do is all. We’ll talk later, lass.”
Greer patted her shoulder and then headed to the stables to retrieve his horse. A nice dip in the loch sounded just the thing to finish cooling his blood. It would also have the added benefit of cleaning him up in case he was as filthy as Milly. After years of marching dusty trails, sleeping in muddy clearings, and tossing up the skirts of equally filthy lightskirts and camp followers as a warrior for hire, Greer was used to being dirty. But things had changed. He no longer needed to wield his sword to earn a meal and a place to sleep. He was a laird now with a castle, a bed and a bath. Perhaps he should start using that bath, sleeping in his bed, and acting like the laird he now was. Perhaps then he could woo and win a lady wife as sweet and delicate as Lady Saidh.
“Bloody hell!” Saidh muttered, yanking the brush viciously through her hair. She was not a morning person, and the love-hate relationship with her hair was due probably partially to her lack of patience when she woke. Actually, she supposed, her relationship with her hair was mostly hate with little room for love. In truth, she’d be happy to cut it all off if it wouldn’t shock and horrify everyone from her brothers to the priest. Although, she supposed her brothers might not care. Most of them would have shaved their heads ages ago if Aulay wouldn’t have a fit about it, and for the same reason. They had all inherited their mother’s completely unmanageable hair—a thick, nasty, curly mess that seemed to knot the moment she finished unknotting it with the brush she was using.
Sighing with vexation, she gave up and tossed her brush across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter that she ignored as she quickly began to lace her gown. She really should have a maid to tend to all of this, and in the not too distant past she’d had one, but shortly after leaving Sinclair last year, her maid, who had also been her nursemaid before that, had taken ill and died. Aulay had not bothered to replace her, and Saidh had not asked him to. Partly because she had known and loved the woman for so long that she was irreplaceable, and partly because she was relieved not to have a maid harassing her at every turn, chasing her with a hairbrush, and grousing at her to wash her face, take a bath, and “Dear God, at least try to be a lady.”
Saidh was not a good lady. She was not the most horrible one either. She could talk like one and walk like one when the need arose, but the truth was, she’d rather
Just the thought made his cock harden further, pulling the skin painfully tight and squeezing his balls uncomfortably. Hell, he thought as he rushed out of the keep. Mayhap he should have said nay to the woman staying. She was a lady after all, not someone he could use for his pleasure and send on her way like the camp followers and Millys of the world.
Speaking of Milly, he thought wryly as she suddenly appeared before him, hands on hips, breasts thrust forward and a leering smile on her face.
“Me laird,” she breathed, moving close and searching the front of his plaid until she latched onto his erection. Her eyes widened incredulously. “Oooooh, someone is in need o’ me care.”
She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him, but Greer found himself pulling back. She must have eaten onions since he’d seen her last for her breath was most unpleasant. And her face was dirty, he noted. She had dark smudges on her chin, her cheek and her forehead. Her hair was none too clean either, not flowing soft around her cheeks like Lady Saidh’s, but hanging limp to her shoulders. The only good thing was that the combination was having a calming effect on his body. Rather than a log fit for the fire, he now had half that and still shrinking.
“What’s the matter?” Milly asked with a frown.
“Nothing,” he assured her, gently disengaging her hand from his body. “There is something I need to do is all. We’ll talk later, lass.”
Greer patted her shoulder and then headed to the stables to retrieve his horse. A nice dip in the loch sounded just the thing to finish cooling his blood. It would also have the added benefit of cleaning him up in case he was as filthy as Milly. After years of marching dusty trails, sleeping in muddy clearings, and tossing up the skirts of equally filthy lightskirts and camp followers as a warrior for hire, Greer was used to being dirty. But things had changed. He no longer needed to wield his sword to earn a meal and a place to sleep. He was a laird now with a castle, a bed and a bath. Perhaps he should start using that bath, sleeping in his bed, and acting like the laird he now was. Perhaps then he could woo and win a lady wife as sweet and delicate as Lady Saidh.
“Bloody hell!” Saidh muttered, yanking the brush viciously through her hair. She was not a morning person, and the love-hate relationship with her hair was due probably partially to her lack of patience when she woke. Actually, she supposed, her relationship with her hair was mostly hate with little room for love. In truth, she’d be happy to cut it all off if it wouldn’t shock and horrify everyone from her brothers to the priest. Although, she supposed her brothers might not care. Most of them would have shaved their heads ages ago if Aulay wouldn’t have a fit about it, and for the same reason. They had all inherited their mother’s completely unmanageable hair—a thick, nasty, curly mess that seemed to knot the moment she finished unknotting it with the brush she was using.
Sighing with vexation, she gave up and tossed her brush across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter that she ignored as she quickly began to lace her gown. She really should have a maid to tend to all of this, and in the not too distant past she’d had one, but shortly after leaving Sinclair last year, her maid, who had also been her nursemaid before that, had taken ill and died. Aulay had not bothered to replace her, and Saidh had not asked him to. Partly because she had known and loved the woman for so long that she was irreplaceable, and partly because she was relieved not to have a maid harassing her at every turn, chasing her with a hairbrush, and grousing at her to wash her face, take a bath, and “Dear God, at least try to be a lady.”
Saidh was not a good lady. She was not the most horrible one either. She could talk like one and walk like one when the need arose, but the truth was, she’d rather