The Highland Menage Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

Highland Menage 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 164,795
2 Ratings (4.5)

In Captive Bride, Fiona was raised as a feisty tomboy with nothing to lose but her life. When she and Gillis MacDougal escape a horrid fate, he proposes to protect her, with his brother Angus part of the deal. Why shouldn’t she experience pleasure from a pair of warriors? But the local laird has other plans for her.

In Captive Love, Fiona discovers she is the niece of the powerful Laird Fraser and must gain his approval to stay married to Angus and Gillis MacDougal. Fraser is not impressed and insists they rebuild his tower house to prove their worth. He also sends a request, along with a bag of gold, to the Bishop requesting an annulment.

In A Lady's Seduction, Lady Alana Sinclair is ordered home to marry a brute. She seduces her escorts, penniless bastards Cormac and James MacDougal, to save her from that fate. They eagerly accept the marriage of convenience though her powerful father may kill them for ruining his plans. But Alana wants more from her arousing husbands than just protection...

In A Lady's Vengeance, Alana has two arousing husbands and a babe on the way. Life would be perfect if her brutal cousin was not determined to destroy her. Cormac and James MacDougal vowed to protect Alana with their lives. When she is kidnapped, can they overcome their pasts to save her? Or will she get her own vengeance?

A Siren Erotic Romance
Reece Butler is a Siren-exclusive author.
The Highland Menage Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)
2 Ratings (4.5)

The Highland Menage Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

Highland Menage 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 164,795
2 Ratings (4.5)
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Cover Art by Siren Publishing




“Dinna touch me, ye dirty swine!”

The high-pitched demand jerked Gillis MacDougal out of the half-sleep that had filled the hours of endless dark. He crawled to his feet, inhaling a hiss at the reminder of bruised ribs.

“Walk or be dragged, laddie. 'Tis nay matter to me.”

Gillis recognized the brutal voice. He wouldn't forget those iron fists for some time.

“I am the heir, nay some laddie!”

Gillis grimaced. Heir or not, insulting your captors was not smart. He wasn't surprised at the thud quickly followed by a gasp of pain. He hadn't recovered from his own beating and he was a man grown. Cold, damp, dark, and lack of food and water sapped a man's strength.

He stood beneath the hole, blinking at the unaccustomed torchlight. A head, shown in shadow, leaned over.

“Ye still alive down there?”

“Aye, as ye can see,” he replied, sounding as forceful as possible.

“Yer clan?”

“Not yer business.”

“The laird will be back on the morrow. He'll make ye talk.”

“Aye,” added another. “He has a fine touch with the cat.”

Gillis winced at the news. Being flayed by a cat o'nine tails would be just the beginning. When they discovered he was a MacDougal they'd toss him back in the pit, shut the stone lid, and forget him. Though once powerful his clan had little coin or land and too many sons with bellies to feed. He needed to escape tonight, either by himself or with the help of his brother, who remained free.

“Get in the hole,” ordered the leader.

“Me father'll nay pay a groat for me corpse!”

Gillis silently applauded the shrill voice. Instead of the arrogance of a moment ago he heard equal fear and bravado. Was this the lad's true nature?

“Och, laddie, ye'll nay die afore the morrow.”

“You in the pit! Dinna hurt the lad or ye'll die slow. He's worth gold.”

Gillis reached up to catch the boy so he wouldn't land on the stone floor. He grunted as a sharp elbow smashed his bruised chest. The toe of a boot barely missed one of his most tender parts, not that he'd have much chance to use it again unless he could escape. The lad scrambled out of his grasp as soon as his feet touched down.

“Sleep well!”

Coarse laughter followed the comment as they trooped out, leaving the trap open, thank God. The silence which had surrounded him, broken only by the rustle of vermin, was no longer absolute. The boy panted shallowly rather than breathing deep. Had they bruised his ribs as well?

“Who are ye that ye are worth gold to the Campbells?” he asked.

“Ye tell me first.”

Scared the boy may be, but he was doing his best not to show it. He had to come from nearby, unless the Campbells had slaughtered his escort.

“I willna ask yer clan, but are ye a Macintosh or Macpherson?”


That was good. Though the two clans were not MacDougal rivals, they were of his foster father, Laird Cameron of Cameron. Gillis and his older brother, Angus, were to attend Darach Cameron's wedding, representing the MacDougals. If Gillis couldn't escape this pit, Angus would be attending his funeral instead.

“Is yer clan allied with the Campbells?” asked Gillis. There was no quick answer this time. He waited while feet shuffled.

“If my father had been their ally, capturing the heir might change his thoughts, aye?”

The words and their phrasing showed education and. It did not match the arrogant lad who'd insulted the Campbells and got swatted for it. The lad was a puzzle and Gillis had nothing else to do except doze and wish the morning would not bring torture and death.

“We have a common enemy, young friend. I be Gillis.”

The boy coughed and fidgeted. Gillis had six younger brothers. He could tell when a lad was deciding how to adjust the truth to suit the situation. He'd done it often enough.

“Call me Patrick.”

An interesting choice of words as it said nothing but his choice of name.

“Dinna fear the dark, Patrick. Ye'll nay be here long.”

The boy gave a very adult snort of amusement. “Sitting in the dark is safer than facing a brute with a temper and a whip.”

“He'll nay touch ye if ye'll bring gold. Unlike me,” added Gillis ruefully.


Gillis snorted sarcastically, wincing at the bruised ribs.

“A wee while back Robert the Bruce helped Campbells steal our land,” he said. “I'll nay ask my laird to take food from my many brothers to save my hide.” He grimaced. “If I am here on the morrow, I die. So, we must escape tonight.”

“We? Ye'll take me with ye?” The eager voice trembled.

“Ach, laddie, I'd nay leave an adder with these murderous bastards. If ye can keep up with my running we'll take ye along. My brother is outside, lookin' fer a way in.”

“I can run like the wind if the Campbell hounds are behind me.”

It was Gillis’ turn to shuffle his feet and fidget. He'd been there two days by his count and his only plan for escape depended on his brother. Unfortunately, there was one brother and a castle full of Glenorchy Campbells.

“There's one wee problem,” he admitted. “We're at the bottom of this deep pit.”

Silence descended again. Small feet shuffled in the muck.

“’Tis nay that deep.”




Angus groaned at the sight of Fiona's round arse, waving in front of him like a red flag to a bull. He'd almost come along with her second orgasm. If he watched her face and saw those luscious breasts he would not be able to last. And he would last, until she came again. And again.

He whipped off his plaid and knelt behind her.

“I shall take ye as a stallion does a mare,” he murmured into her ear. “Tell me if I go too deep. I dinna wish to give ye pain.”

Gillis crouched at her side. He reached under to play with her breasts. They dangled enticingly, nipples to be plucked, like ripe berries. Angus could not put his cock into her until she was ready to explode once more. If he did he wouldn't last more than three thrusts. Her white cheeks beckoned. They were there for his pleasure as well as hers. He slid his hands over her arse. She mewed like a kitten at his touch. He kissed each cheek, gave a small bite and then kissed it better. She gasped when he bit each time but instead of complaining, her aroma intensified.

She was no shy miss, sheltered from pain. She'd been beaten far too often. Would a touch of good pain make her burn? Her asshole beckoned. Gillis had filled her pussy, which was right as he was her husband. Angus could not fill her ass yet as she needed to be stretched. But he could start the process.

He played with her pussy, gathering her fluid on his fingers. She arched, offering herself to him. He kissed the brown rosette. She squeaked, reversing her arch. She turned her head, frowning at him.

“What are ye doing?”

“There's more than one place to give pleasure,” he said. He used a knuckle, drilling it lightly against where he'd kissed. “Do ye like this?” She pushed back against him.

“Aye, but is it right?”

“Lass,” said Gillis. “We are married. Anything we choose to do together, harming none, is right.”

“God gave us our bodies to enjoy,” added Angus. He used his smallest finger, entering to the first knuckle. She gasped but did not pull away.

“Does that hurt?” He held his finger still as she thought.

“Aye, a wee bit. But I like it.” She spread her knees and arched her back, offering herself to him. “Please, touch me.”

Gillis lay on the floor on his back. He wiggled his way under her so that his mouth could take her breast. She shuddered when he found her nipple with his lips.

Angus gathered more fluid. He breached her ass to the second knuckle of his smallest finger. She shuddered again, so he twisted his finger deeper. Her low groan filled the room. He eased his cock into her hot pussy. This time it was his groan, louder and deeper than hers. He pulsed inside her, his finger and his cock in the same rhythm.

He reached under her belly with his free hand and found her clit. He circled it with his finger. She clenched him. Gillis must've done something as she suddenly gasped. He drilled his finger all the way in her ass and pinched her clit. She cried out, catching his cock in a burning vice as she came.

Free to take his own pleasure he grasped her hips and pounded into her tight pussy. She slammed back against him, demanding more. He exploded, filling her with love and yearning as well as his seed. She milked him, her pussy demanding more, until they both slumped. He pulled her tight against him. Their mutual climax had been an act of possession, each to the other. She was his now, and he was not ready to release her. Life would never be the same with this woman in his arms and at his side.

“I never knew I could feel like this,” he whispered, the words disjointed as he paused to haul air into his lungs.

“Nor did I,” added Gillis.

“Ye mean, it's not like this all the time?” asked Fiona.

Angus kissed her shoulder. “It will be, now that we're together.” He brushed her golden red curls behind her ear. “Ye are made for us and no other.”

Fiona tilted her head to look at him, and then Gillis. Her eyes were bright and her smile, eager.

“When can we do this again?”

Angus and Gillis shared a glance. They knew how lucky they were to be alive, much less have the right to share their lives with Fiona.

“Wee Fiona is a wildcat,” said Gillis. It was said with smug satisfaction.

“Aye, the best kind,” replied Angus. Gillis was obviously not yet aware of the scratches Fiona had inflicted on his arms when she came.

“Does that mean ye canna keep going?” demanded Fiona, frowning.

“Whisht, lassie, ye had a fever. Ye need yer rest,” said Gillis soothingly.

“Mmm, I'll rest. But I want more later.”

“Ye'll get more,” said Angus with satisfaction. “Lots more.”





A soft step warned Angus a second before the sheet was yanked off his naked body. He clenched his hand, expecting to find his dirk. A shrill squeal erupted in his ear. He’d squeezed warm flesh, not the hilt of his blade. A full breast, in fact. One of two belonging to his now wide-awake, brand-new wife, Fiona. He was at Inverlochy Castle still in bed after their wedding night.

“Angus MacDougal!”

His bare arse stung with a slap. He glared at Auld Maggie, the woman who’d mothered all the children fostered by Lochiel, laird of Clan Cameron. She’d dispensed potions, yanked ears, and provided advice whether they wanted it or not. His brother must not have barred the door after joining him and Fiona when the revelers had finally passed out.

“Jesu! What are ye doin’ woman?”

“Gettin’ ye up, a’course.” Auld Maggie looked down, grin wide. “Out of yer bed, I mean.”

Angus held back a curse. He shouldn’t be concerned about waking hard and eager. He was a newly married man with a wife he wanted to sink into at least once more before breaking his fast.

“‘Tis the crack of dawn, ye auld besom!”

The complaint came from the far side of the bed. Gillis sat up, yawning wide as he stretched out hairy red arms. He scratched his chest as he smirked at the wee woman glaring between them. He patted Fiona’s sheet-covered haunch, none too gently. She muttered a curse no wellborn lady would have known, much less spoken. Fiona had been raised as a lad and had the language to match. He would train that out of her. Thankfully she’d not been taught to fear or be disgusted by sex. He would encourage that passion.

“Fair tired ye out on yer wedding night, did we, wife?” said Gillis smugly.

“Ye kept me awake, aye,” she replied as if bored. The nipples that poked against the sheet proved otherwise.

“We’ve got years for ye to wear me down to a nubbin.” Gillis caught a nipple between his knuckles. “And these, as well.”

“There’ll be none of that,” said Auld Maggie much too cheerfully. “Ye had the night. I need ye out of this chamber.”

“Now?” demanded Angus. “Darach’s still sleeping off the drink. He’ll not need it.”

“Aye, he’ll have a sore head when he wakes. But ‘tis Cameron who awaits ye.”

That was something else. No one made the laird of Clan Cameron wait. “Turn yer back,” he ordered grumpily.

“Ye have nothin’ I’ve not seen afore, laddie.”

Auld Maggie had seen them as boys, not men fully rampant. Though Cameron had set them up by insisting he marry Fiona, Angus would not hide how much he desired his wife. He stood, unashamedly erect, and strode across the room. Thank God the chamber pot was behind a screen. If he was lucky he’d be able to soften up enough to piss. Thinking of why Cameron would call for them this early worked wonders. He was soon dressed, Gillis as well.

“Carry yer boots and put them on while ye have yer wee chat,” ordered the old woman. “And dinna be thinkin’ ye can grab another kiss from yer wife. Ye’ve got the rest of yer life to do that.” She cackled. “If the laird doesna toss ye in his pit fer makin’ him wait.”

 Angus knew what happened to those who kept Laird Cameron waiting. They wouldn’t be dumped in the dungeon, especially after Fiona and Gillis had barely escaped one with their lives only a few days earlier. They would, however, be separated from their hot-blooded wife as they completed some dirty, physically demanding, insulting task. They knocked on the open door of Cameron’s office and were told to enter. They stomped into their boots before sitting on the bench in front of the table. The laird looked up, far too cheerful at ripping them from their marriage bed.

“As all heard your wife scream your name you have proven the consummation,” he said to Angus. He followed his dry tone by wincing theatrically. “The woman has a set of lungs.”

Angus was glad for his darker complexion as otherwise his cheeks would show red. Gillis’s pale skin did not hide a thing. They’d have to find Fiona something to bite on to muffle her screams. Sounds carried far in the night air. It was not safe to let it be known a woman travelled with them and they had a long trip back to Duncladach Castle and what was left of the lands Clan MacDougal had once claimed. Fiona had not brought them a dowry, but that didn’t matter. She brought herself, and her eager mind, and that was enough.

“There’s a reason why you are here at this hour,” said Cameron. “I would be in bed with my lady wife if Darach’s bride was not within a day’s ride, with an escort from Clan Ranald. You need to be on your way.”




“Did ye bring any sweet oil?” she asked in return.

His smile near split his face. He reached into his sporran and pulled out a small bottle.

“Aye.” He held it up. “‘Tis my turn to have ye ride me.” He tossed the bottle to Angus, who caught it easily. “I want to taste ye.”

Gillis had washed in the nearby stream, leaving his shirt off afterward. When he unbuckled his belt and dropped his plaid he was instantly naked and gloriously erect. Immediately her nipples rose, her pussy swelling in eagerness. He folded and laid his plaid over the pallet they would share for the night. Angus stepped behind her. He grasped her shirt and began raising it. The cool air swirling under it did nothing to quell the heat inside her. She felt his hot breath on her neck for a moment before his teeth nipped that spot between her neck and shoulder. She gasped at his claim of possession. The sharp, short pain was gone with a kiss.

“I want yer curls tickling my nose.” Gillis took a step forward. “I will lick, and suck, and flick my tongue over yer pussy and clit until ye scream and gush in me mouth.”

She wanted it. Oh, God did she want it! But if her cries could be heard in a noisy hall, out here it would be far worse.

“Nay, ye canna.” She shook her head.

“Aye, lassie, I can. And I will.” Gillis’s teeth showed in a feral grin. “And so will Angus.”

“But the Camerons—”

“Well ken what a husband or two will do with their wife,” answered Angus. He lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His hands grasped her breasts and pulled her against him.

“Dinna fret, sweetling. Angus has a wee bit of leather for ye to bite on. ‘Twill keep yer screams inside yer mouth when ye peak.”


“Hush.” One of Angus’s hands slipped down her body. He pressed his fingers between her thighs. She automatically moved her feet apart and bent her knees, giving him entrance. “Our wee wife is weeping for yer mouth.”

Gillis groaned. He dropped on the pallet and lay on his back with his hands up.

“Step over me, lass, and let me taste ye.”

Angus guided her over. As she dropped to her knees Gillis, hands on her hips, directed her. One flick of his tongue, and she didn’t care who heard what. Angus quickly stripped as Gillis’s eager tongue slid between her pussy lips, thrusting inside her.

“Take me in yer mouth,” ordered Angus.

He stood at Gillis’s head, cock rampant. She licked her lips in anticipation and reached for him. Her fingers brushed the tip of his cock. He was already wet. She brought it to her mouth. Her tongue slid over the head, tasting his salty essence. He groaned and took a step closer. She kept one fist at his base and took him as deep as she could. He hissed and grasped her hair in his fists. Mouth wide and cock deep, she circled it with her tongue. He hissed, tugging on her hair. Pinpricks of pain made her shudder.

Gillis’s nibble turned to a lick. His tongue found her clit, and she came with a gasp. Mouth open, frozen with heat, she heard a groan escape around his cock. Unable to move, unable to inhale, nothing existed but Gillis’s tongue licking and sucking. When the last shudder had passed she found herself slumped, forehead resting on Angus’s belly. She shuddered with another afterquake.

“Now, sweetling,” demanded Gillis. “Ride me.”

His big hands easily lifted her hips. Angus helped move her, gripping her ribs. They set her on her knees again, in front of Gillis’s cock. She reached behind and grabbed it. Eager, needing him, she sat back, impaling herself. She took him slowly, still unused to the fullness. Inch by inch his hard cock slid into her. When her arse cheeks touched his hip bones she rested for a moment. She settled herself down, twitching to get the right position before clenching his cock with her pussy.

“Hold this till ye need it.”

Angus handed her a square of thick leather. She gripped it in her fist, holding tight.

“I dinna ken what I did to deserve ye,” said Gillis between gasps. “But I thank God ye’re ours.” He spread his fingers over her arse, playing with her. He stretched her butt cheeks wide apart. “Yer turn, brother. Stretch that ass with yer fingers, and fill it with yer cock. Dinna waste time, or I’ll come afore ye.”

A moment later a thick, oiled finger rimmed her anus. Angus pressed in, stretching her. She arched her back, offering herself to him. Her muscles were sore but not that part of her. He chuckled and added another finger. He scissored them, stretching and teasing her.

“Ye sure ye’re nay too sore?” he asked. She heard both teasing and tension in his voice.

“Jesu, Angus!” She panted, managing to get out a few words between each breath. “I want ye both to fill me hard this night! If Lovat keeps us apart, I’ll need this to remember 'til we’re together again.”





“Lady Janet Fraser bids ye to her solar.”

Alana Sinclair sat back on her heels and shaded her eyes with her forearm. The surly messenger sneered down at her, not difficult as she was on her knees in the dirt. Some at Lovat Castle were jealous she was treated almost as family, though she often did the work of a servant. This man was obviously one of them. She didn't recognize him, so perhaps he was new.

“Thank you.” She went back to transplanting the seedling he'd interrupted.

“Dinna tarry. And make sure ye are clean!”

“Of course,” she replied, biting back the words she'd much rather say. She no longer blurted what she thought. She told herself it was maturity when in truth it was necessary for survival. She patted the plant with satisfaction. The messenger deliberately set his toe on the seedling she'd just transplanted, squashing it.

 “You oaf! These are herbs for your laird's kitchen!” She shoved at his boot.

“Ye should stay above stairs. If 'tis true ye are an earl's daughter.”

Another contemptuous look swept over her. She struggled to her feet. Her bare feet, which made him sneer all the more.

“My father is George Sinclair, Fourth Earl of Caithness!”

“And mine is the cousin of the king.”

She pushed her shoulders back and gave the look her father bestowed on all who displeased him. “Mayhaps,” she replied. “However, my mother was married to my father at the time of my birth.”

Her accusation of bastardy had him hissing at her and stomping away. No doubt she'd made another enemy thanks to her cursed Sinclair temper. While her father was the most powerful man in Scotland's northeast, if this man was a cousin of the king, natural son or not, he could do for more damage to her than the other way around.

As she lived here only out of the kindness of Laird and Lady Fraser, almost anyone could do her damage. Her mother had died shortly after her birth. She'd been mostly ignored by her father, which she preferred to his cold arrogance. The few times he'd noticed her, when she'd done something he disapproved of, he'd ordered brutal punishments. The last one, banishment, had brought her to Lovat Castle. She would do anything for the laird and lady who had given her refuge when she'd had nothing but pain to call her own.

Now approaching five-and-twenty, she earned her place through her skills with a needle, in the garden, and with the children. Few here knew she'd once been an outgoing, impulsive, laughing child. She'd bitten her tongue so often she was surprised there was anything left. She'd had no choice so was always pleasant, dutiful, and quiet, unless bothered by obnoxious messengers.

Alana cleaned her hands and feet, tidied her hair, and changed her skirt. Her heart began to pound as she neared the back stairs, so like a dark, near-airless tomb.

William is far away. You are safe.

She hurried around the narrow steps to the fourth floor. Light streamed into the corridor from the solar's open door. She released the breath she'd held and stepped into the room. Sun burst through the south-facing oriel window, now open to the spring air. A fireplace on the northwest provided heat during the long, dark winter. No matter the weather it was a favorite room for the women to ply their needles.

Lady Janet stood by the giant tapestry Alana had designed and created as a tribute to the Fraser clan. After eight years of work she had only one corner to complete.

“Your tapestry shows well in the light,” said Lady Janet. “The Fraser strawberries look good enough to eat.” She turned. Her profile in the harsh light showed deep lines of worry.

“You seem concerned, my lady. I trust Laird Fraser is well?”

She glanced at the missive in her hand. “Aye, he is well. The news is for you, child.”

“For me?”

“Alexander has heard from the Earl of Caithness.”

Alana's heart froze, then pounded hard. A wave of dizziness hit. She reached for the wall to steady herself. After that night that changed her life William had informed her father she was no virgin. It meant she was unfit to marry and therefore of no use. The Earl in a rage had banished her to Lovat Castle and cut off all ties.

She forced the butterflies of dread to settle. Perhaps it was good news. John, her oldest brother and therefore the Master of Caithness, was kinder than her father. If John was now Earl due to her father's death she might be allowed to return home, perhaps to live quietly in a dower house.

If her father was alive and contacting her, it would not be to her benefit.

“Would the Earl be my father or my brother?” She held her breath.

“Your father still lives, Alana. He has ordered you brought to him. We canna refuse.”

Alana jammed her eyes, and lips, closed. Her time of peace was over. She'd hoped to pass all her days here, a quietly watching as others lived their lives to the fullest. It was not to be. For some reason the Earl wanted her. Or more accurately, wanted something from her. Her only value to him was as a bargaining chip. Her dowry would bring enough wealth for a clan to accept her for a younger son, even though all knew she was a ruined, willful woman with a temper. At her advanced age, she might even be barren.

If her father demanded her return, she no longer had to hide her true self. She would not be rude, but would take control of her own life while she could.

“Why, pray tell, would the Earl suddenly remember he has another daughter?” She spoke sarcastically, then paused as if thinking. “But of course! He's decided to marry me off for something he wants.”




Alana couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't move. All she could do was lie still while Cormac drove her crazy with his tongue. She'd been so overwhelmed with James that she hadn't been able to separate out her senses. She hadn't known it was possible to feel like this. To desperately want him to touch her in ways that must be sinful, but felt oh, so wonderful!

He placed her hands on her breasts, silently telling her to take over. She did, massaging them and squeezing them as she had with James. Tension coiled inside her. His strokes quickened, and his finger finally touched the button she'd discovered while riding her horse that day.

“This is yer pussy,” he said, cupping the slick folds between her thighs. “And this wee button is yer clit.”

He pressed a finger on it and wiggled. She gasped, clenching hard. He slid his finger past her pussy and down. He stopped at a place she'd not touched except when necessary. His finger was wet and easily slid over her tender flesh. She'd never realized her anus was so sensitive.

“Do ye like me doin' like this with my wee finger?” He pressed and twisted while sucking on her clit. She clenched her buttocks, gasping. A deep chuckle emerged from between her spread thighs. “Aye, I thought ye might like that.”

“Put your mouth to better use than talking!”

She heard a deeper chuckle before he set his mouth on her once more. The tension she'd just learned about thanks to James, wound higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. He twisted his finger and she exploded.

Even when she got her breath back her muscles were as limp as wet thread. Cormac had to help her put on her shirt. He pulled her back into his stomach, his legs sturdy behind hers, separated only by his shirt, and hers. She felt safe and warm. He muttered something, then half-sat up. When he lay down again something thick pushed under her bent thighs. A hard cock lay between his flesh and hers, a mere thickness of linen separating them.

“That feels good,” she murmured.

“It should, lass. 'Tis my cock sliding as close to your pussy as it can get this night.”

She'd peaked yet neither James nor Cormac had. They had to put their cock inside her and release their seed if she wanted a bairn. Doing so without even handfasting was against everything she'd been taught. Yet she'd been accused of the same, condemned without being allowed to speak her truth. Why not do now what she'd already been banished for? She'd spent too many years doing what others expected. Tonight she would take control of herself, and her future. She reached for his cock. It was hard, yet the surface was soft, like silk.

“Alana,” he said, croaking the word. “My sweet, if ye touch me like that I'll nay be able to hold meself back.”

“I dinna wish you to hold back. I wish you to put this inside me.”

His groan sounded like he was in agony. “Lass, 'tis for yer husband.”

“Aye. So do it, and be my husband.”

His shoulders shook with quiet laugher. “Trust wee Alana Sinclair to turn the world on its head and ask a man to marry her.”

“I'm not asking just any man, I'm asking Cormac MacDougal.”


“My father cares not what happens to me as long as I produce grandchildren for him. I like you and James, and I trust you both. MacDougals are well-known for making sons. I like your touch, and want more. Will you not marry me and save me from a terrible fate?”

He was silent for so long she had to fight panic. She should not have said it that way. She wasn't marrying him just because of William. Yet she would not be lying here now, Cormac's arms around her, if her father hadn't threatened her with a forced marriage.

“Cormac, I didn't mean—”


She jammed her jaw shut, not wishing to say something that would deny her this chance at life. His hand tightened on her breast. He caught her nipple between two fingers and squeezed. A jolt of lightning reminded her of the peak she just experienced. Was that his answer? Her heart pounded, praying he would stay.

“And will James also share your bed?” he whispered against her neck.

“If he chooses.” She hesitated, still unsure. “Do you think he'll mind?”

A soft snort of air blew past her neck. “What, that I'm yer husband, and nay him?”

“Aye,” she whispered. “Though you are older.”

“Aye, and I'm bigger. In all ways.” He shifted his hips, making his cock slide against her. Her pussy clenched in need. “What if James handfasts ye in the morn, and we marry when we find a priest?”

Alana exhaled, slumping in relief. A second later her body thrummed in response to the promise of his touch. A laugh bubbled up. Here she'd gone ten years without a man wanting her and now she had three. No, two MacDougal men and a mangy cur.

She shifted her thighs farther apart and reached for Cormac's cock. It was big but Lady Janet had explained that a woman's place swelled to receive her husband. The first time, though, it could bring pain. She could tolerate pain knowing the joy which would happen after.

“Will ye marry me, Alana Sinclair?” Cormac murmured in her ear. “Will ye share yer bed with me and James, and let us care for ye, and protect ye and any bairns we may have?”

“Aye,” she whispered back.

“Then release my cock for I'll be putting it someplace better than yer wee hand.”





"What is this?"

Alana rose from her curtsey to face her father's bellow. She knew he was aware she was married and with child yet she still quaked. Being told her circumstances was one thing. Seeing her before him in a kerch with a rounding belly was another.

"I am a married woman, Father." She lifted her hand and rested it over the slight bulge of her belly. "Cormac MacDougal has given me your grandson."

"Nay! Ye are to marry me!" William pounded his fist on the boards in fury.

She flinched at the outburst. Her husbands stepped close to protect her. The Earl shoved back his chair and stood. Someone hushed William as guards moved to box them in.

"I gave no permission for you to marry." His tone was icy but he didn't rage.

"My pardon, Father." She sank into another curtsey, staying there. She'd used his relationship rather than his title on purpose. She also kept her voice low as if meek though she did it to make him strain to hear. "Laird Fraser informed me that you wished grandsons. In my shame I could not attract the son of an important man. Laird Fraser had hired Cormac and James MacDougal to escort me home. The clan is well-known for their ability to breed sons. As I had no dowry and my lord was in a haste for grandsons I married Cormac, thinking it might please you."

"You were to marry your cousin William, the Master of Sinclair." Though he stood on a dais the Earl wasn't much higher than her husbands. He turned his attention to them. "I offered you fostering and you repay me by shaming my daughter?"

"Lady Alana has no cause to lower her head for marrying an honest man. She was a dowerless woman whose own father shamed her," replied Cormac.

She heard a grunt, no doubt due to his brother's elbow to the gut. James bowed low, with Cormac following.

"Your Excellency, we beg your pardon for my brother marrying Lady Alana without your permission. As your daughter, the lady was far above us when we left Girnigoe. Lady Alana said she needed a husband and sons to please you. She proposed to Cormac, who agreed. Though we are far beneath her, we hoped her age, lack of dowry, and state of disgrace would allow you to grant Cormac the boon of her hand at this time."

"Why did you not wait, and ask?"

James chanced a glance at the Earl. "I learned battle technique from a master, Your Excellency. The iron was hot, so we struck. You have a grandchild on the way. Does it matter who the father is?"

Sinclair tilted his head, assessing them. James dropped his eyes again. Her father grunted, as close to an acknowledgment as they were likely to receive.

"I sent a message to Fraser of Lovat many months ago. Why the delay?"

"We traveled on horseback to Castle Leod as MacKenzie of Kintail had a priest," explained James. "Colin Mackenzie, remembering your kindness when fostering here, insisted Lady Alana accept their hospitality after our wedding."

"We put a babe in her belly right off and then the wee lass was too sick to travel as each morn her belly—"

James cleared his throat, a suggestion that Cormac shut his mouth and keep it that way.

"We stayed until Lady Alana was better able to travel, then hired a ship."

"A ship? And where did you get the gold for that?" demanded the Earl.

"Laird Fraser grew fond of your daughter over the last ten years. He provided coins so she could return safely."

"Does Lovat know of her marriage, and this babe?"

"Aye, as Laird MacKenzie sent a messenger when his healer said 'twas best Alana not travel. He did not wish Lord Lovat or Lady Janet to think Alana had been kidnapped or killed, as was likely if she'd traveled by horseback to Caithness."

The Earl grunted grudgingly and gave them a signal to rise. Cormac took her elbow to help her up, then kissed the top of her head. Since he did it all the time he likely hadn't even noticed he'd done it.

Her father noticed. He watched them like a well-fed cat toying with its prey. Cormac was not a courtier like James. He had little subtlety to him. Like a bull in a field, his action showed exactly what he thought. Her father would know that from their early years here and would watch him. She swallowed, forcing herself to do so past the lump in her throat.

"You are not suggesting my daughter proposed to this man?" he asked James.

"Aye, my lord," replied Cormac with a cheerful grin. "Alana proposed the weddin', and I took care of the beddin'. She were a virgin but as ye can see, she is nay more." He patted her belly affectionately. She slapped at him, making him pull back with a false pout. "MacDougals dinna have much, my lord, but we're known for makin' sons." He winked. "Hope ye appreciate the effort. As ye see, we're still tamin' her."

Chuckles broke out, the first coming from her father. Her face heated at Cormac's crass comment. She was not one to need taming!

"I will get you for this," she whispered to Cormac.




He delved between her legs again. She squirmed, clenching his hand with her thighs.

"Girnigoe is big, with many strangers," he continued. "If yer father allows us to be yer husbands he may send us far away to do his bidding. We may be gone from ye for weeks. If ye've shown use disobedience a man may think we dinna care about ye. He might take what isn't his, and not care that ye call rape." He reached farther between her legs to massage her clit. She relaxed her thighs, moaning when he found it.

"Ye belong to me, and James, Alana. I dinna wish ye to forget that. Ye are our wife and the mother of our babe."

"And a good chess player," added James. He brushed the hair off her face, smiling gently down at her. "You have a brain and understand strategy. Use it. Aye, we enjoy spanking you, and filling you with our cocks. But know that it is Alana Sinclair we choose to spank and fuck, not just any woman. We'll not seek another's bed, when you are in ours."

Cormac agreed with James, though he'd never have been able to put those words together. She was quiet for a bit. Cormac continued stroking her, slow circles from her neck to her thighs and back again.

"The Earl never uses my name," she whispered. As she was face down, forehead resting on her folded arms, he had to listen closely. "He calls me lass or daughter because I am his possession and naught more."

"Your father is an arrogant bully," said James. "A very powerful, wealthy bully. He likes to attack for no reason other than he can. We ken who you are, other than our wife. 'Twould be a great blow if someone harmed you, lass. Not because of our pride, but because we care for you. When you were a wee lass and you skinned yer knee, we kissed it better and you ran along, laughing. If a man harms you, or our babe, ye'll not recover as easy. Nor will we."

"And whoever touched ye willna live long enough to boast," said Cormac quietly. "Lass, I couldna bear to have ye harmed." He ran his fingers over her face to her ear. "Ye are a treasure to us, worth far more than gold. We need ye to obey us so we ken that ye'll be safe."

Her shoulders rose as she inhaled deeply, then fell.

"I'll do my best to obey. But I canna promise I'll listen when I know you are wrong."

Cormac gritted his teeth. He looked out the porthole at nothing. "I swear to ye, wife, if ye get harmed by refusing my orders…" He couldn't think of what she might do, or his reaction. "Ye best ensure that never happens."

"And what about you?" she demanded, twisting her body to look up at him. "Do you think I like knowing you could get killed? My father just killed my brother, though it took him six years to die. He's caused the deaths of hundreds, many of them his own men. I dinna wish to lose you, either."

Cormac tossed off the blanked and pulled her into his lap. She curled into him, clinging. James stood near, rubbing her back.

"None of us know what the future will bring," said James. "We can only live with today and pray that tomorrow will be as good, or better."

Cormac lifted her chin with his knuckle. Tears glistened in her light blue eyes.

"Never did I dare to dream ye'd be my wife." He placed his hand on her belly. "Or that ye'd be carrying our babe. No matter what happens, my life is more than I could have believed."

"Brother, if you speak like that our wife will think you're soft. I'm the one with the words. You're the muscle."

"I have the words this day." He squeezed her rump affectionately, then patted it. "As for being hard, if ye get off my lap I'll show ye how hard I am." James scooped her up, holding her above his own erection. She was so small and light that James could easily rub her arse back and forth over his cock. Cormac quickly shucked his plaid.

"Hands and knees," he said. "On the bed."

James set her there. The bed was the perfect height if he spread his legs wide. Her full cheeks, pink and rosy from his attention, drew his eye to the white line between them. Her belly hung down, just enough so they knew there was more in there than food. He slid a thick finger in her wet pussy. She clenched around him. He would not last long. Careful of the babe, he entered her heat slowly rather than slamming deep as he wished. She groaned, low and long.

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