Page 17 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I sabeau had seen it all. She had watched as Tiernan killed those three men, swiftly and mercilessly, showing no hints of hesitation. They were gone as fast as they had appeared, and Tiernan had shown them no mercy.

Before, she would have been frightened of him, even more than she had once been. But now, she could only feel grateful that he had been there when the men attacked. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have happened to her had Tiernan not been there to kill them, and she couldn’t express just how grateful she was to him. Would he ever understand, she wondered?

And yet, had he changed? Or was he still the same man who was once a brigand?

Isabeau didn’t know what to think. Conflicting thoughts plagued her mind, making it difficult to come up with a definitive answer. On the one hand, watching Tiernan kill those men while barely breaking a sweat was nothing short of terrifying, as he revealed his true skill, which he had hidden from her so far. Never before had Isabeau been so aware that if he had wanted to kill her, he easily could have. On the other hand, though, she was certain he didn’t want to kill her. He had saved her life; he had fought for her, to keep her safe.

How could she be scared of him when he had been the one to protect her? Perhaps it was true that Tiernan was a frightening man, but that was not what she saw in him. Rather, she saw a man who had put his own life on the line to save hers.

With Beag and his men gone—and the threat gone with them—Tiernan slowly made his way to her. His footsteps were small, hesitant, as though he was fearful to approach her, and Isabeau couldn’t blame him. Surely, he thought that perhaps she would be frightened of him after witnessing the havoc he had wreaked.

She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that she wasn’t afraid of him, but no words came out, even as he came to stand before her. Under the light of the moon, his hands, his tunic, everything seemed to be covered in black, the blood so dark that it looked to her like spilled ink. She had seen too much; never before had she witnessed so much death, so much devastation in such a short time.

“Forgive me,” Tiernan said, his voice quiet and strained. “I didnae wish fer ye tae see thats. I wish… I wish I could have protected ye from it, but I had tae kill them, Isabeau. I had tae. If I hadnae?—”

“I ken,” Isabeau assured him, suddenly finding her voice, much to her relief. She didn’t want Tiernan to think she was broken. She didn’t want him to think he was to blame for it. “I understand why ye had tae dae it. Dinnae apologize fer… fer savin’ me life.”

Tiernan’s expression softened a little at that, though the concern didn’t melt away from his features. He still held his jaw stiff, his lips pressed into a thin line, his hands curled into fists by his hips.

“I want ye tae go back tae our room,” he said. Slowly, his hands relaxed and Isabeau watched as he tried his best to wipe the blood off them before he reached for hers, holding it tightly. Despite his best attempts, his palm was still tacky with blood, sticking to hers, and Isabeau tried her best to ignore the bile that rose at the back of her throat. “I have tae… I must deal with this… mess.”

Isabeau frowned for a moment, before her gaze fell on the bodies once more. Tiernan was quick to step in her field of vision, blocking her view, but even that wasn’t much help. Isabeau still had to fight the nausea—mainly for his sake. If he saw her panic and give in to her shock, he, too, would crumble and blame himself for it.

“Alright,” she said, figuring it was best not to argue with him. Besides, she didn’t think she could stomach helping him this time. “Alright, I will wait fer ye.”

Nodding, Tiernan let go of her and waited until she disappeared into the inn. Inside, the innkeeper was talking to a man and a woman, their travelling capes draped over their shoulders over their nightclothes. When she entered, they fell silent, their gazes pinned on her, but none of them spoke as she made her way to her room.

They knew who Tiernan was. They knew what he was capable of and what he had done outside, but none of them dared speak.

That, at least, was a blessing.

Once in the room, Isabeau glanced down at her hands to find them bloody where Tiernan had grasped them. For a moment, she closed her eyes and simply breathed in and out, trying to calm her racing heart. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She tried to tell herself that those men deserved it, but that didn’t lessen the shock of seeing them struck down like that.

Swiftly, she made her way to the washbasin and poured some water to wash the blood off her hands. She scrubbed at her skin fervently, even using her nails to scratch the blood off and leaving red, angry lines behind. It stung, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was desperate to get the blood off, no matter what it took.

The entire time, she wondered what Tiernan was doing with the corpses. He would have to bury them or burn them—or perhaps he would leave them somewhere out of the town to rot. She didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.

It took him a long time to return. Isabeau spent all of it sitting on the edge of the bed, blankly staring at the far wall, her mind replaying the fight over and over again. It was only when the door opened that she stood, springing up suddenly as if she had only just come to life.

Tiernan walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Under the dim light of the candles and the fire that burned in the fireplace, she could truly see the extend of the massacre. He was soaked in blood; his clothes, his hands, even his face, all smeared with crimson that turned darker by the minute.

“Are ye hurt?” she asked him and at first, Tiernan didn’t answer her. She should have thought about it earlier. She should have checked before she had let him drag all those corpses away alone. “Are ye?”

“Nae much,” he said, looking as though he was still in a daze. Isabeau had seen that moment when his gaze had gone blank, his eyes betraying nothing as he threw himself at those men and right into the heat of the fight. To her, it seemed as though he was still in the same mindset, still far away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to bring him back.

“Show me,” she said. This was something she could do. This was something she could handle without her hands trembling, without her mind going back to that terrible sight.

Tiernan removed his torn tunic with a wince, revealing a shallow cut on his ribs. Isabeau inspected it carefully, but even in her fear and panic, it didn’t look very concerning to her. Still, she grabbed the pitcher of water from the bedside table and placed it above the flames to heat it as she tore a strip off the tunic Tiernan had been wearing to use as a makeshift rag.

It was ruined anyway, she thought. They would have to find him another one.

Silence stretched between them as they waited for the water to warm, but this time, there was nothing uncomfortable about it. They were both at ease with each other, the silence feeling companionable and soothing to Isabeau. There was nothing they needed to say to understand each other. Their silence spoke louder than words.

Once the water had been heated, Isabel took the pitcher and brought it over to the bed, where Tiernan was already sitting. She dipped the corner of it in the water and then began to clean the wound meticulously, taking care to wipe away all the blood. Under her touch, Tiernan shifted and twitched, the wound bothering him, though he never once complained, and once she was done, he used the rag to clean the rest of his body, wiping as much blood as she could off his face and hands. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could do at that time of the night, when everyone else had been long asleep.

Though they must have woken with all the screamin’ an’ the ruckus. Still, nae one came tae see what happened.

Were they too frightened, Isabeau wondered? Were they so used to such fights that they knew to stay inside, where they were safe?

Once Tiernan was done, he tossed the rag onto the floor, along with his stained tunic. Then, he turned to look at Isabeau as though he wanted to say something to her, but no words came past his lips. Isabeau said nothing, either. They only stared at each other, both of them lost in each other’s eyes as though there was nothing and no one else in the world but them.

It may as well have been that way for Isabeau. In that moment, nothing else mattered to her, not when Tiernan’s gaze fell to her lips and then rose back up to her eyes, watching her with such need that she could almost feel it in the air between them. Belatedly, she realized that her fingers were still pushing against his ribs gently, feeling the tender skin and the muscle underneath it. She could also feel each and every one of Tiernan’s breaths, all of them shallow and rabbit-quick under her fingertips.

She was the one to move first this time, and she wasn’t going to let Tiernan dictate what was good for her and what wasn’t. She had given it plenty of thought; this wasn’t just a whim or simply a way to rebel against everything and everyone who had forced her to suppress her emotions for all this time. She wanted Tiernan for who he was. She wanted to be completely his, simply because she trusted him and desired him and knew that he was never going to hurt her.

When their lips met, Isabeau felt his breath stutter, his torso twitching once more. At first, she expected him to pull away, but then he tilted his head just so, inviting her closer, and Isabeau wasted no time before deepening the kiss, remembering how he had kissed her and trying to emulate the same movements.

She had thought that the first time was special and could never be replicated, but this, too, felt like the first time. Every kiss felt new, every touch just as exciting as the first, and as Tiernan grabbed her, his fingers tangling in the strands of her hair, she couldn’t help but moan, eager to surrender to him entirely.

This time, she wanted to go all the way with him. She wanted to take everything she could.

With a soft sigh, Tiernan parted his lips, his tongue flicking out to brush against the seam of Isabeau’s. She parted her own, too, letting him deepen the kiss even more and lick into her mouth, her hands tracing the contours of his muscles on his chest and stomach, his shoulders, his biceps. Last time, she hadn’t had the chance to touch him like this, but now her touch was greedy, her fingers digging into his skin and feeling him everywhere she could reach, wanting to memorize every part of him.

She didn’t know how many other chances she would get. If this was her first and only time, then she wanted to make the most of it, to burn every part of him in her memory.

Grabbing her by the hips, Tiernan pulled Isabeau into his lap, making her settle there with her legs on each side of his hips. Like this, she could feel his hardening manhood against her, the heated length of it pressing against her thigh, and the thought excited her more than it frightened her. Even with this, she knew Tiernan would never hurt her. His touch was gentle, tender, and delicate. There was nothing forceful about him, nothing that made her fear her first time would be as painful as some women claimed.

“Dae ye have any idea how bonnie ye are?” Tiernan whispered into her ear before he pressed a kiss right below it, to her neck. “Yer eyes, yer lips, yer breasts… even yer cleft. All I can think about is tastin’ ye again.”

Isabeau couldn’t help but groan, burying her face in his dark hair. As he spoke, Tiernan reached between them, between her legs, and traced a finger over her opening before bringing it to his lips to do just as he had told her, sucking the digit in his mouth. At the sight, Isabeau’s cheeks turned a bright red, equal amounts of need and embarrassment coursing through her.

How could he dae such a thing! It’s absolutely indecent!

And yet, she couldn’t deny that it aroused her beyond any measure, knowing that Tiernan craved her this much. Just the thought was enough to draw more moisture from her core, slicking her heated skin.

With eager hands, Tiernan pulled at her clothes and Isabeau helped him as much as she could, their hands tangling as they struggled with her tunic. Soon, though, she was once again naked before him and this time, she was not ashamed of it. Even when Tiernan looked at her with that insistent, hungry look, she didn’t try to shy away from him. It was clear to her now that he liked what he saw and it aroused her even more, having him watch her like this.

“Let me pleasure ye,” he said, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close to him. When Isabeau nodded, Tiernan reached between them once more and traced his fingers over her folds, drawing a gasp out of her. The touch was barely anything, so soft that it was only teasing her, driving her mad with lust. Even as she whined, though, and rocked her hips, trying to get Tiernan to touch her properly, he only chuckled and pressed a kiss to her neck, nuzzling the curve of it.

“Patience,” he told her, his touch getting only a little more insistent, but not enough to provide any real relief. Desire coiled deep within Isabeau, her body getting more and more heated as Tiernan toyed with her. And then, just as she was about to complain once more, Tiernan shifted his other hand so that it snaked under her from behind, finding her entrance.

Isabeau cried out as Tiernan pushed just the tip of his finger inside her, rubbing against her walls. His other hand teased that sensitive spot at the top of her mound, thumb rubbing small circles over it until she convulsed with pleasure. She was entirely in his mercy, her body nothing more than an instrument for him to play as he pleased, forcing wave after wave of pleasure upon her.

“More,” Isabeau gasped, unable to help it. “Please, Tiernan, I want tae feel ye.”

With a groan, Tiernan did as he was told, his finger plunging deep inside Isabeau with ease. She was so relaxed, so slick with need that there was no resistance as he pushed into her again and again, the pad of his finger brushing repeatedly against her sensitive walls. Moving his other hand to her rear, Tiernan grabbed the ample flesh there and lifted Isabeau up a little, until he could suck one of her nipples in his mouth, moaning around the hardened peak. When he added a second finger inside her, Isabeau couldn’t help but echo his moan and move her hips, taking him all the way to the knuckle, and Tiernan encouraged her with the hand on her buttock, helping her set up a slow, sensual rhythm as she took over and pleasured herself with his hand.

“That’s it,” he told her. “Take all ye want from me. Does it feel good?”

Isabeau could only shut her eyes firmly and nod, lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to stop herself from crying out again, fearful that the entire inn would hear her. Tiernan, though, wouldn’t take that for an answer.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels good,” Isabeau said, the words coming out rough and choked. “It feels so good. I can feel ye so deep inside me.”

Holding her hip still, Tiernan picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers with renewed vigor. Isabeau couldn’t stop her cry this time, the sound echoing off the walls around them as he forced her pleasure out of her, making her fall apart in his arms within seconds. It only took a few more thrusts of his fingers before Isabeau reached her peak, her core pulsing around him, her wetness drenching his hand as she held on to him for dear life.

It felt as though her pleasure would never fade, the soft, rhythmic twitch of her walls continuing for several moments. Tiernan held her through it, lazily moving his fingers to draw every last bit of her pleasure out, until she finally sagged in his arms, all the strength gone from her body.

For a while, she stayed like that, panting against Tiernan’s shoulder and trying to regain her composure. When she finally did, she realized she was not done.

Pulling back just enough to look at him, Isabeau bit her lip, her gaze falling to Tiernan’s lap. “Make me yers,” she said. “I need it.”

Tiernan gave her a ravenous look, one hand threading through her hair as he observed her carefully. “Are ye certain?”

“I am,” she assured him. “I want it.”

“But—”

Isabeau didn’t let him finish his sentence. She didn’t want to hear why this was a bad idea; she knew it well enough on her own, without anyone else telling her. There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t be asking for this. If there was one thing everyone had made sure to tell her when she had come of age, it was that she had to save herself for her husband, that it was unbecoming of a lady of her station to seek the pleasures of the flesh. She had other things with which to occupy her time—embroidery, poetry, archery. All noble things that were supposed to keep her mind off boys and, later, men. Things that would keep her days filled until it was time for her to wed and have children. Then there were the lessons, the ways of diplomacy, everything she needed to know to become the Lady of the Clan once she was wedded, which took up so much of her time.

She had followed those rules religiously. She had studied under her tutors with such vigor that she had even surpassed her brothers in many subjects, burying her face in books while they were out on the training grounds, keeping each other busy with their swords and their fists and their strategies. She had been nothing short of the perfect young lady, the one any parent would want to have.

And she was tired of it.

Her family had kept her so sheltered in that castle that there were so many things she didn’t know, even at twenty-five years of age. She had been raised to know how to deal with nobles, how to entertain them, but at the same time, even if she could wield such power, she felt like she knew nothing that mattered. What was the point of all those lessons if she couldn’t even survive in the real world, outside the castle walls? What was the point of her life if she couldn’t have a single pleasure in it?

This was what she wanted and she could have it now; Tiernan wanted it as much as she did, and Isabeau wasn’t going to let that opportunity go. Her body ached for him, savoring every touch, every brush of his lips, every sigh of her name from his mouth. She didn’t care if it was a sin. She didn’t care if she was going to ruin herself for anyone else.

Peasant women didn’t have such taboos; why should she?

“Stop,” she told him, pressing her lips against his to shush him. “I dinnae wish tae hear it. I ken… I ken what I’m riskin’. But it’s what I want.”

As she spoke, she decided it was time to be bolder if she truly wanted to convince Tiernan she wanted this. With a little hesitation, she shifted in his lap and grasped him over his tunic, feeling the hard length of his manhood in her hand. The effect was instantaneous; Tiernan gasped, hips rolling into her hand as he sought out more pleasure, and Isabeau, emboldened by his reaction, massaged him slowly, trying to figure out what felt best for him.

Even through his clothes, the weight of him in her hand was intoxicating, making her core pulse in anticipation. Though she had little idea what to expect, she knew one thing—just like every other time Tiernan had touched her, he would make sure that the pleasure was so intense, it would take her out of her own mind.

“I wish tae see ye,” Isabeau said, her voice dripping with honey as she arched a little against Tiernan, pressing the swell of her breasts against him. Tiernan groaned in response, one hand closing over her breast as the other found her hand, pushing it firmly against his rigid length. “Can I? I’ve never… I’ve never seen a man afore. Please.”

That was what got Tiernan moving in the end, a broken moan escaping him. He seemed to like the thought that he was the first man to reveal himself to her, the first to touch her like this, the first to bring her pleasure. Pushing her gently off his lap, Tiernan stood from the bed and began to undress, revealing his body inch by inch as Isabeau laid back, holding herself up on her elbows as she watched him.

The more of himself he revealed, the more labored Isabeau’s breaths became, her gaze hungrily taking in everything. He was undeniably handsome, his muscles rippling under the skin with every movement. The silvery scars that ran all across his torso and shoulders and arms made him look as dangerous as he was appealing. Isabeau liked the rough, rugged look they gave him. She liked that even though he was dangerous, even though he could easily hurt her, she knew he never would.

And that he would give her anything. All she had to do was ask.

“Can I touch ye?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, and instead of responding, Tiernan came to stand between her legs, taking her hands and placing them on his chest. Isabeau trailed her fingers over the swell of his muscles, dragging them slowly down his stomach until they came to the thatch of dark hair on his groin. Her gaze fell for the first time to his manhood and her breath caught in her throat as she observed the length. He was large even there, girthy and straining upwards, and when she finally touched his silky flesh, he twitched in her hand, moisture gathering at the tip.

“Ye’ll be the death o’ me,” Tiernan said as his hand closed around Isabeau’s shoulder, holding onto her as he gave a few shallow thrusts of his hips, bucking into her fist, his mouth falling open. It was the most arousing sight Isabeau had ever witnessed and she tightened her grip just so, moving her hand along to Tiernan’s rhythm, trying to draw more pleasure out of him.

Tiernan moaned, indulging in her touch for a few more moments before he pushed Isabeau down onto the mattress, crawling over her.

“Spread yer legs fer me,” he whispered in her ear and Isabeau did as she was told, letting him settle between her thighs. “Tell me if ye want me tae stop.”

“I dinnae,” she assured him, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck and hold him close, pulling him into a heated kiss. “Take me. Make me yers.”

Nodding frantically, Tiernan took himself in his hand and lined up his manhood with her entrance, slowly pushing inside. The first breach took Isabeau’s breath away, the stretch unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable but also strangely pleasurable. There was a slight sting, a pressure that verged on the edge of too much, and she winced for a moment, hoping the grimace would be imperceptible.

But it wasn’t. Immediately, Tiernan noticed and stopped, cupping her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. “Are ye alright? Daes it hurt?”

Isabeau shook her head. “Only a little,” she admitted. “But it’s… it’s good. Keep goin’.”

“If it hurts ye, it’s better tae stop,” he told her. “There are other ways fer me tae pleasure ye.”

“Nay,” Isabeau insisted as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist to keep him close and inside her. The more they sat there like this, the more used to it she became, relaxing around him and letting the pleasure take over from the pain. “I promise, I’m alright. I dinnae want ye tae stop.”

For a moment, Tiernan seemed unconvinced, but then Isabeau rolled her hips, taking him ever so slightly deeper and his resolve crumbled.

“If it hurts, tell me,” he urged her, and Isabeau promised him with a nod.

Slowly, torturously so, Tiernan pushed himself deeper and deeper, sinking into her body all the way to the hilt, and once there, he paused, gyrating his hips in a way that pressed his groin against her mound, teasing her sensitive spot.

Then, he started to move, his fingers digging into her thighs as he took her slowly, each thrust deep, dragging his length against her walls. Isabeau had never felt pleasure like this before. She had never felt so close to someone as she did in that moment, staring into Tiernan’s blue eyes, sinking her fingers in his dark hair. Tiernan leaned into the touch and when he gave a particularly deep thrust, making her twitch around him and tug at the stands of hair between her fingers, he moaned with abandon, his hips picking up the pace.

He seemed to like that, Isabeau thought, and so she did it again, this time drawing a curse out of him, hips bucking to push himself impossibly deep inside her. And though Isabeau appreciated the care he was showing her, the slow thrust of his hips, she wanted more. So aroused was she, so wet with need that her entrance accommodated him with ease, dripping all around him.

“Harder,” she demanded, already feeling her pleasure building once again. “Ach! Tiernan, there, right there.”

The change of angle had forced his length to brush up against a spot inside her that drove her mad with lust. Upon seeing that, Tiernan got a single-minded focus, thrusting hard and fast into her as his hands closed tightly around her hips to keep her still, his touch bruising. Isabeau could do little other than lie there and take it, her body convulsing, her core building up with pressure until it was all too much to bear and her pleasure exploded all through her body as she finally reached her climax with a shout of his name.

She could feel her core pulsing around him, her walls clenching hard and sending wave after wave of aftershocks through her. For a few moments, she was far gone, her eyes shut tightly, nothing but darkness surrounding her. But when Tiernan leaned down for a kiss, tasting her mouth, she opened her eyes just in time to see him pull out and grip himself in his hand, giving his manhood a few frenzied pumps before he spilled all over her stomach and breasts.

The sight shocked her as much as it aroused her once more. She couldn’t get enough of him; even now, when she had just reached her climax, she knew she would be ready for another round soon.

But for now, she could only laugh as Tiernan collapsed next to her, he too laughing breathlessly. Isabeau curled up into him, letting him wrap an arm around her and pull her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Sorry fer… all that,” he said, but Isabeau only shrugged a shoulder.

“It wasnae… bad,” she admitted, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. The only thing that kept her from burying herself under the covers and never again emerging into the world was the fact that Tiernan, much to her surprise, seemed just as embarrassed as she was, his cheeks a bright red. “I dinnae mind.”

“Still,” Tiernan said, as his hand caressed her body, his fingers brushing over the curve of her hips. “I made a terrible mess. We should bathe.”

As if that thought had only just occurred to Tiernan, he sprang up and dressed quickly, throwing on his clothes haphazardly. Isabeau frowned, looking at him in confusion as he shoved on his shoes.

“What are ye doin’?” she asked.

“Bringin’ a tub. An’ water.”

That was all the explanation he gave her before he disappeared, frantically trying to fix his hair blindly as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Isabeau sat there, on the bed, bewildered as she stared at the empty room before finally falling back down on the mattress.

What an odd man he is sometimes.

It didn’t take long for the door to open again and Isabeau yelped in surprise, grabbing the covers to throw them over herself. Once again, though, it was only Tiernan, carrying a large tub. Without a word, he disappeared again, and when he came back, he had a bucket of steaming water in each hand, the veins in his forearms popping from the strength it took to carry them.

Isabeau couldn’t help but laugh. “It really wasnae necessary,” she said. She could have simply washed up at the basin, even if a bath sounded like a brilliant idea.

“Nonsense,” said Tiernan as he filled the tub to the brim. Isabeau had to admit that it looked very appealing and when he held out his hand, inviting her into the tub, she took it and let him help her sink into its shallow depths.

Instantly, she relaxed, her sore body melting into the water. Tiernan made sure her hair was out of the water and then gently began to scrub her skin with a cloth, his touch so gentle that it almost lulled her to sleep, her eyes falling half-shut.

She knew that if anyone found out about this, she would be doomed. But how could they ever claim it was wrong when it felt so right?