HIGHLAND MENAGE is a 12-book series:
Captive Bride [Highland Menage 1] April 17
Captive Love [Highland Menage 2] May 1
A Lady's Seduction [Highland Menage 3] May 15
A Lady's Vengeance [Highland Menage 4] May 29
An Eager Widow [Highland Menage 5] June 12
A Perfect Wife [Highland Menage 6] June 26
Highland Menage 7 to 12: coming soon
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.
“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.
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.”