Page 13 of A Scot for Bethan (The Welsh Rebels #6)

“Not nearly often enough. In my experience, most women think that it is their role to be passive. They expect men to take them and enjoy every moment of it, but they would never think to—” he stopped, realizing what he was saying.

Why was he discussing such things with the maiden promised to his nephew?

Hadn’t he promised he would never allude to her skill in bed?

True he was not talking about her, but he was sure he had crossed the line into unsuitable the moment he’d mentioned the pleasure there was in surrendering to a beautiful woman’s will.

By rights, Bethan should lash out at him, but she surprised—or rather shocked—him by finishing his sentence in his stead. “They would never think of riding their lover and give him, as well as themselves, immense pleasure in the process.”

For a moment he just stared at her, too stunned to react.

What the hell did she know about riding a man?

Once he had recovered his wits, he answered.

“Such language for a well-bred young maiden! I imagine you got used to hearing bawdy talk at the tavern, but I do hope that plain speaking is the worst thing Mistress Elen’s girls taught you.

Or perhaps not, since you seem to know an awful lot about what women do to men when on their knees. ”

She might be still a virgin, and yet not be completely innocent.

This time Bethan’s cheeks went a deep crimson.

He would have found the color delightful if it hadn’t betrayed her guilt.

Did she have some experience with men then?

She’d claimed she had never gone down on her knees to pleasure a lover, but that didn’t mean she had not kissed anyone or used her hand to?—

“Didn’t you agree you would not discuss my skill as a lover?” she said, cutting through the unbearable image of her taking a man in hand to give him blessed relief.

His eyes narrowed. He was not the one at fault here and they both knew it. “You started it, with your talk of women riding their lovers. Besides, it wasn’t a personal comment. I said what ‘women’ do on their knees.”

“I’m a woman, am I not?”

Och, aye, she was. Every inch of her was definitely, exquisitely, unmistakably female. A man like Dougal would never be able to handle her. He would panic.

And just like that, his anger deflated.

What sort of life awaited Bethan in Scotland, he wondered for the hundredth time?

The more Cameron thought about it, the more worried he got, because he feared she would waste away in the foreign land.

At first, not knowing anyone, not being able to converse with the people, she would be lonely, that much was certain, and he didn’t see how things would improve afterward.

A boy of twenty, spending more time in Robert the Bruce’s army than at home getting to know her, his nephew would be a poor husband.

He wouldn’t know what to do with a wife in his castle and a woman in his bed.

At least… Cameron could be mistaken, but he was pretty certain Dougal was a virgin, with little or no idea how to please a woman.

Not only had his mind been occupied by thoughts of war for years, but even as a youth, he had never expressed any interest in any girl.

It would be highly surprising if he could offer his bride a satisfactory consummation and fulfilling marital life.

He would not even have the will to try, thinking it a woman’s duty to lie back and allow her husband to take his pleasure whenever the mood took him or when he thought it was time to get another child on her.

Would Bethan try to show him what delights they could share?

The women from the stewhouse had clearly taught her a thing or two, even if she claimed never to have put them in practice.

Would she want to experiment with her new husband?

Dougal was pleasing enough to the eye. She might well wish to?—

He brought an abrupt halt to the musings.

Imagining the newlyweds in bed together was torture.

Dougal didn’t deserve such a fine wife as this Welsh beauty.

If the boy was to marry someone he didn’t love and would only ignore, why couldn’t it be a cold, religious fanatic who would be relieved to be spared her husband’s attentions in bed?

Bethan was anything but cold and dispassionate.

If her attitude in life was any indication, she would be a fiery lover, afraid of nothing.

Hadn’t she forced a retinue of men to stop so that she could admire a rainbow?

Wasn’t she brave enough to put him in his place every time he snapped at her and bold enough to ask what he did to his lovers?

A woman such as her needed a life companion, someone to bandy words about by day—and a real man in her bed at night.

Someone like him, who liked nothing better, as he’d just told her, than to surrender to a brazen woman’s will when the time and place were right.

Oh, but what he wouldn’t give to surrender to her will.

God’s teeth, but things were progressing at an alarming pace if he was imagining himself in bed under her, allowing her to use his body for her pleasure.

They had only been together for a few days, and had at least another fortnight’s travel ahead of them.

How would he endure it? Thankfully, at that moment Angus called him, providing the perfect excuse to put an end to the dangerous conversation.

“If you’ll excuse me.” With a curt nod, he walked away.

Dear, oh, dear, what mess had she gotten herself into?

Left alone, Bethan wavered on her feet. Never once in the seven years she had spent waiting for her Scottish husband to finally come to her had she imagined that she would meet the man of her dreams in the retinue which would escort her to Crois Dhubh, but she now feared she had.

Not one of the men she had taken to her bed in the last few months had made her feel so…

alive, for want of a better word. When she had received the letter informing her that Dougal’s uncle would be the one escorting her, the last thing she had expected was that she would fall under his spell.

His earlier words came back to her.

No one ever intends to fall. And yet it happens.

Yes, it did. It had. And it was a disaster. What if he told his nephew that his betrothed was lusting after another man, a man who was none other than his uncle?

No, he would never do that. Because she was certain she wasn’t the only one to feel the tension between them, which only made everything worse.

Had she been anyone else than Dougal’s future wife, Cameron would have acted on the desire they felt for one another by now.

He would have carried her to the woods and ravished her until she couldn’t move. But of course, he couldn’t.

Dear God, this was a mess.

“My lady.”

Surprised out of her lewd reverie, she turned to find one of the men, the one called Angus, behind her, holding a big leaf piled up high with juicy berries.

“Yes?” she asked warily. She had started to accept that none of the men knew who she was but, as she could not guarantee an ill-placed comment would not give her away, she preferred to keep contact with them to a minimum.

That night, at the tavern, Angus had told her she could choose which of the men could go first. What if he suddenly remembered?

“I thought… That is… I saw these and I thought you might like to have something refreshing to eat in this heat.”

Bethan stared in incredulity. Was he offering her berries, for no other reason than to see to her comfort? It would seem so. Ridiculously touched, she accepted the leaf he was handing her. “I thank you, I will indeed. But you do know I’m not a lady?”

Angus shrugged. “So I’ve been told by the laird. But you look like one, and I cannot very well call you ‘Bethan,’ now, can I?”

No, perhaps not. “Well, thank you…Angus, is it?”

“Aye, Angus. At your service.”

After one last bow, he walked away, leaving her to eat the berries alone. They were delicious, both tart and sweet, just what she needed. Once she had finished, she joined the retinue, who was ready to depart.

“Did you ask the men to go pick berries for me?” she asked Cameron, who was tightening his saddle girth.

“Berries? Nay. Why?”

“Angus just presented me with a handful. I thought perhaps you had instructed them to find the fruit.” She shook her head. “I’m surprised he would bother to do such a thing.”

“Don’t be. I told you; they are good men.

When they are in their cups and in need of female company, they can be a bit rough, but they would never have forced you into anything that night.

” He skewered her with a stare. “They only addressed you the way they did because they thought you were there in search of customers, a reasonable assumption given your attire and the fact that you were there at all.”

“Yes.” Oddly, she believed him. The men could easily have pounced instead of trying to talk her into accepting their advances and they had not needed to be told twice to leave her alone.

She saw now that she had been in no real danger.

“If that is the case, you could have spared yourself the trouble of coming to my rescue?”

Cameron gave her a side smile. “They would not have taken you against your will, but it would have taken an awful lot of effort on your part to convince them that you didn’t want their coin. Remember, they thought you were one of Mistress Elen’s girls, and it’s what they do.”

“Of course. Then, thank you. Indeed I owe you my thanks.” He’d not known her, and yet he had not hesitated in helping her.

“’Twas nothing. Now, about tonight. Have you ever slept outside by a fire?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes.” The word was out before she could think. This would be an adventure, and with half a dozen fierce Scots to guard her, she had nothing to fear.

Cameron’s eyes twinkled. “Perfect. Then let’s ride. We only have a few hours of daylight left.”

Later that night, comfortably settled in a shallow depression dug by Murdo, covered with Hamish’s own blanket, which he had insisted be hers to use for the rest of the trip, Bethan reflected on the danger of false first impressions.

A few days ago, she would have sworn the group of rough-looking men were nothing but dangerous lechers, a danger to women.

She now knew they were nothing of the sort.

Would Dougal be as thoughtful as Angus, who’d gone out of his way to tempt her palate?

As efficient as Murdo, who had seen to her comfort before she’d even realized what she needed?

As attractive as his uncle, who made her heart beat faster every time she set eyes on him?

If he was, then this union might not be such a disaster.

For the first time since she’d been told she was going to marry a Scot, Bethan felt some measure of hope.

It was not long before she fell into a deep sleep.