as well, unless you stop denying me.’
He raised his hands behind his head. ‘What are you planning to do?’
She didn’t really know, but he’d given her permission to lower his trews, so she did. His erection was thick and long, springing to rest against his stomach. When she’d removed his clothing, she took her hand and explored the velvety texture of his manhood.
Bram looked intrigued as she stroked him. She rather thought she could bring him to his own pleasure in this way, but there was something else she wanted to try.
Though she was slightly embarrassed about it, she lowered her mouth to him. Bram’s reaction was instantaneous, as he let out a growl.
‘Nairna, I … What are you doing?’
She suckled against the head of him, using her tongue to stroke his length. ‘Seducing you.’
He dragged his hands through her hair, and as she took him into her mouth he let out a rigid groan. ‘Nairna, I don’t think I can hold back if you do that.’
She released him and straddled his waist. Jenny had been right, she realised. She could indeed bring her husband a great deal of pleasure.
Bram guided her up and lifted his shaft to her wet entrance. She lowered her body atop him and a tremor seized her at the sensation.
Bram let out a slight hiss when she adjusted herself, rising up and down. His fists were clenched, his muscles taut.
‘Am I hurting you?’ she ventured. She kept her movements slow and smooth, rising and falling as she took his length inside her.
He looked as though she were torturing him, and with every penetration his body grew tighter.
She remembered that her previous husband would sometimes increase the pace, so she experimented with taking Bram faster, bouncing against him as she sheathed him.
Strangely, the motion began to conjure up the startling warmth she’d experienced earlier, the shimmering tremors that echoed inside her womb.
Abruptly, Bram took her waist and started driving inside her, in counterpoint to her own thrusts. Her breathing grew shaky and she felt herself building tighter, her body shifting and reaching for something.
Then she felt it, the pulsing of her body melting against him, shuddering with wetness as he forced her to ride him. His palms filled up with her breasts and he suddenly let out a shout of his own, lifting her a few more times until she collapsed upon him.
She couldn’t put into words her own feelings right now. Neither did he. Instead, she lay over him, with his body still joined with hers.
And wondered if she’d done anything at all to break through to him.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Bram lifted the heavy claymore with both hands, swinging the sword in a wide arc. The blade glinted in the morning sun and he faced off against Ross, trying to lose himself in the training. Though he’d grown stronger in the past few weeks, it wasn’t fast enough to suit him.
His blade met Ross’s shield; no longer did he feel the weakness of his early days. The weight of the weapon was balanced in his hands, the punishing pace welcome.
There was still no word from the messengers Alex had sent. They were no closer to learning the whereabouts of Callum, and Bram’s impatience had reached the edge of reason. He wanted to be among the men searching.
But after the disastrous fight at Cairnross, he knew that his time was better spent here, preparing for the next English garrison he might face. The unnerving silence from Cairnross made him all the more suspicious.
He swung the claymore again and the metal struck hard against Ross’s shield.
‘You’re improving,’ the older man commented. ‘But you’re too stiff, lad. Relax your movements. Move with the claymore and let it become a part of you.’
Bram tried to loosen his stance, but the tension was what kept his grip firm upon the iron weapon. As he trained, he kept his control tight, his movements focused upon precision.
Perspiration slid over his forehead, but he never wavered in his attack. The minutes slipped by and he answered Ross’s own blows by lifting his claymore with both hands. His mind began to drift, and when he saw his wife walking past the training field his thoughts wandered just long enough for Ross’s blade to slice into his forearm.
The pain was swift, the blood rising up upon his skin. Nairna rushed over to him, but Bram hardly heard her words of concern, or Ross’s curse about his lack of attention. He stared at the redness flowing over his arm, and he set the claymore aside.
He removed his tunic and swabbed at the blood, forcing himself to walk to the edge of the loch.
‘Bram.’ Nairna caught up to him, her gaze focused upon his arm. ‘Are you all right?’
He gave a nod, never ceasing his stride. The blood flow had already slowed, and though it might take a few days to heal, it was nothing serious. ‘It’s fine.’
It irritated him that he’d let his concentration slip. Though his fighting had improved, he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed to be ready for the fight against the English, as soon as Callum was found.
‘Do you need me to stitch the cut for you?’ Nairna asked.
‘No. It’s shallow.’ He knelt before the stream, bathing his arm in the wetness and washing away the blood. The morning sun warmed his skin; too late he realised he’d bared his back to Nairna.
Her fingers moved across the scars and she spoke not a word. With infinite gentleness, she traced the years of his past, as if she could smooth away the mark of his imprisonment.
He didn’t want her touching that part of him. Rising to his feet, he hid his scarred back and kept the tunic pressed to his wound.
When he regarded her, he saw the blush rise upon her cheeks. Her deep brown hair was working its way free of the braid she’d woven, and the strands framed her face. He wanted to kiss her, to pull her body close and fill her with himself.
‘We’ll finish the house today,’ he told her. ‘I’m going back to the ridge.’
‘I’ll come and help,’ she offered. Her gaze centred upon his wounded arm. ‘Are you truly all right, or are you just saying that?’
‘I’ve experienced worse,’ was all he would tell her.
She lowered her chin and took a step closer to him. ‘Some day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me about it.’
He didn’t intend to. What good would talking about his imprisonment do? Dwelling upon it wouldn’t change what had happened. It was over and finished. No need to reopen the past.
Behind Nairna, he spied the dog he’d given her. The animal was seated, calmly waiting for his mistress. For a long moment, Nairna waited, as if to see whether or not Bram would change his mind.
‘There’s
