Page 3 of A Scot for Bethan (The Welsh Rebels #6)

This was one of the reasons she had taken the shocking decision to bed someone before meeting the husband who had been selected for her.

She had not wanted her first time to be with a man who would be unable to speak to her during their first joining, comfort her if need be, stop if she begged him.

She had also, given Dougal’s apparent lack of enthusiasm for this union, started to fear that he would never come to her.

The prospect of ending up as an old maid, of dying a virgin and never having known what it was to lie in a man’s arms was not a cheerful one.

Last of all, and rather foolishly, she had hoped that their engagement would be broken at the death of the old laird, leaving her free to marry a man of her choosing, one who would love her and wouldn’t mind her not being untouched.

It had not been difficult to find a lover.

Men had taken an interest in her from a very young age, competing for her favors, choosing to forget she was not free to indulge her senses, boasting about their skill in bed in order to be the one having the honor of making a woman out of her.

It had pleased her to ignore those overconfident rogues and give her maidenhead to a shy youth instead.

Edward had been perfect, both tender and too awed by her not to do his best to give her the pleasure she was after.

In truth, she had intended for William, her friend from Sheridan Manor, to be the first man to possess her, but things had not gone the way she had hoped.

When she had tried to kiss him, he had confided the reason why he would never be able to do what she was asking.

That night the whole castle had been celebrating in his honor. The faithful squire, who had arrived at Sheridan Manor as a page, had finally been made a knight.

Just before the banquet the two friends had gone for a stroll around the bailey, eager for some fresh air after the suffocating heat of the day.

Bethan had led him to the herb garden, and a little alcove hidden in the wall.

Earlier that day, she taken the precaution of heaping cushions over the stone bench so as to provide maximum comfort.

It was the perfect place to put her plan to execution, cozy and private.

In the fading light, no one would see them unless they were standing right over them.

Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she placed her lips on William’s mouth.

“W-what are you doing, Beth?” he asked, holding her at arm’s length, his shock evident.

This was not the reaction she had expected but she did not let it worry her.

Bethan knew he would understand when she explained what this was about.

He knew about her pending union to Dougal, so he would not judge her.

He lived in England, thereby ensuring that this encounter would remain a secret, and he was one of the most caring and handsome men she knew.

He would be gentle and mindful of her pleasure.

Yes, William was perfect for what she had in mind.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she breathed, nestling herself against his chest. He felt so good, so tall and broad, hard and deliciously masculine, the perfect foil to her feminine softness.

Would Dougal feel as good? She still didn’t know anything about his physical appearance.

She pushed the uncomfortable thought away.

There would soon come a time when she would know exactly how he looked—dressed and naked.

“Will you show me what pleasure men can give women?”

“I can’t.” Gently, he pushed her away.

“You need not fear you are taking liberties,” she reassured him, aware she was asking a lot from him.

Not only was she suggesting he deflowered a virgin, but also a woman who was betrothed to another man.

For someone as honorable as he was, such a thing would be unthinkable.

But her mind was made up. “I want this, I want to know what it is to be touched by a man I know and trust, someone I chose for myself, before I become?—”

“I’m sorry, but as much as I sympathize with your predicament, and would love to help you, I really can’t show you what men and women do together.”

With those words, William did the last thing she’d expected him to do.

He took her hand and placed it between his legs.

There was no hardness there, nothing that betrayed any lust. He was not lying.

He did not feel any desire for her, which meant he would not be able to possess her, no matter how much she tried to entice him.

Everything within her collapsed. How cruel that William should be the only man she had not been able to ensnare with her much-praised beauty.

Bethan had lost count of the number of men who had stolen kisses from her and ground their hard members against her stomach in their bid to show her how much they wanted her and how ready they were to make her theirs.

And now, when for the first time she would actually welcome this proof of desire, she felt only soft, unresponsive flesh.

“I see.” Never had she felt more dejected.

“No, you don’t. This has nothing to do with you.” He sounded agonized and he drew her back into a brotherly embrace. “But you see, I, myself, am still waiting to find out how wonderful it is to be touched by a man I trust,” he whispered in her ear.

A man .

Bethan stilled. Well. If that were the case, then she understood why William could not bed her, why this was indeed not personal. All bitterness forgotten, she melted into the embrace and felt him relax when he saw she did not resent him for his refusal or condemn him for his preferences.

“I understand. And your secret is safe with me.”

It was better that way, she had assured herself, as she watched William being congratulated on his achievement later on that evening.

He was a dear friend, the only male friend she had, and she didn’t want to do anything to compromise their friendship.

Besides, it was him who had introduced her to Edward, his cousin, the following day.

The handsome groom had been an excellent choice and the two of them had spent a delightful few days teaching one another the pleasure that could be had between lovers.

Since that fateful night, she had become more competent at choosing men who wanted her, and furthering her knowledge of her own and her lovers’ bodies.

Since she was no longer a virgin, there was no point in denying herself what little excitement she could have for now, she’d reasoned.

All too soon, her life would change. Once she was married, only one man would be allowed to touch her.

It was the way of the world, so she might as well make her peace with the notion.

And who knows, perhaps Dougal, as disappointing a betrothed as he had been, would prove to be a caring husband and skilled lover.

Yes. And perhaps trees in Scotland grew fruits of gold.

Bethan turned to Gwenllian, tears in her eyes. “Yes. It would seem that my time has finally run out.”

Damn and blast. The way was blocked.

A quick glance around the courtyard confirmed Bethan’s suspicion.

While she’d been talking to Mistress Elen upstairs, a group of riders had stopped by the tavern, making a discreet retreat to her horse impossible.

One of the men was leaning against the gate leading to the stables.

She would never get past him unnoticed. Three others were standing in front of the fire, warming their hands and laughing.

They would see her as soon as she stepped out of the door.

The only ones who might not notice her were the two relieving themselves in a dark corner, shouting lewd comments and egging each other on as they did.

Heat invaded her cheeks when she saw that their arms were moving with frantic, rhythmic gestures and their backs were arched. Were they actually?—

A cry of male satisfaction pierced the night, answering her question. They were indeed relieving themselves, but not in the way she’d thought at first.

“Feeling better, Murdo?” one of the men by the fire shouted.

“Aye,” he growled back. “Though with my hands so callused, I’d rather have ploughed a woman’s sweet?—”

Not wishing to hear the rest of the sentence, Bethan clapped her hands over her ears and debated what to do.

She could not step out of the tavern in front of half a dozen men desperate for release.

The risk of being mistaken for one of Mistress Elen’s girls was too great.

But she couldn’t stand here all night either, she had to get to her horse and leave without delay.

It was late already, much later than she would have liked.

Any moment now customers would start to arrive.

Getting away would be even more difficult than it was now.

Perhaps the element of surprise would play in her favor? It was worth a try.

Avoiding the light shed by the fire burning in the center of the courtyard, Bethan started to walk to the gate on silent feet. A whispered entreaty to the man leaning on it might be enough to make him move out of the way. He might, just might, understand the predicament she was in and let her pass.

By keeping in the shadows and hugging the walls she almost reached the other side of the courtyard before the men spotted her. Once they did, however, their reaction was immediate.

“Whoa there, halt!”

All attempts at discretion forgotten, Bethan started to run to the gate, hoping that the man stationed in front of it would take pity on her and move out of the way in time for her to slip through it.

He did not, even if he made no move to seize her.

With her only escape route blocked, she had no other choice but to halt. Panicked, she watched as two of the men walked toward her on unsteady legs.

“Just where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

“What’s the hurry? Stay a while, we’re in need of company.”