The Lone Wolf's Lass Read online

  Nobody seemed at all aware as they sat around talking about her wedding as if she was not even needed to plan the cursed thing. But she was pleased nobody asked her opinion, for just then, his finger slid down and ran in small circles over her slick female parts, connecting with a part of her that made her want to throw her head back and mysteriously push into his touch. Instead, she looked at him just in time to see him flash her a wicked grin, then he continued to pretend to listen to the others speak.

  “We must collect as many flowers as we can,” Ginny said with a smile.

  Ferghus leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Then I shall collect your flower after the ceremony,” he breathed as his fingers slid inside her. She almost gasped, but she bit her lower lip to prevent anyone from paying attention. How wicked he was to do such brazen things to her while surrounded by their families. And yet, she found herself more than willing to allow it to continue. She had no idea what he was doing or what it was even called, but it was truly delightful. Looking down, she saw a strange bulge pressing against his beige trousers and wondered why his male parts suddenly looked so big.

  Sliding his finger in and out for a moment, she felt her breathing start to increase as some strange pressure built inside her. She had to fight some instinctive need to rock her hips and with the way she was seated with her legs crossed beneath the table, he seemed to have plenty enough access to do as he wished. She had to make him stop. If he did not, she was afraid she would embarrass them both by making an impolite sound. Grabbing onto his hand over her dress, she stilled him and gave him a look, imploring him with her eyes to stop. With a wolfish grin that she realized she had never seen him make before, he slyly removed his hand from beneath her dress, placing it innocently back on her knee as if it had been there the entire time.

  Feeling Robert’s gaze on her, she turned to her left and her eyes almost bulged out of her head when she saw the look in his eyes. Apparently, they had not been as secretive as she had thought. Pure rage burned in his eyes and veins bulged from his neck. His fists clenched in his lap and his face was a mottled red. She flinched at the expression on his face. He knew what Ferghus had been doing to her and he was angrier than the god of thunder.

  “Are you all right, Rob?” Ginny asked innocently from across the table.

  “I need air,” was all he said through clenched teeth just before he bounded to his feet and stormed through the door. It banged off the wall, but he did not bother to shut it behind him. The cold air rushed in, causing the fire to flicker and Brianna stood up, adjusting her skirts carefully.

  “I will go see what is ailing him,” she said quietly. She knew precisely what ailed him. She just did not know why it ailed him. He had no rights to her. He had lost that right when he stood by and allowed her to be handed over to his brother. And now that she had come to terms with her fate and even found some enjoyment in it, he had the nerve to storm off in anger?

  Suddenly, she felt her own anger rising as she stormed into the blustering night without a cursed cloak, searching for Robert while he had a temper tantrum. It was nearly pitch-black outside and it was hard to see beyond her own nose. Clutching her arms close to her body to stave off the chill, she squinted into the night, glad she had taken the time to plait her hair, or else it would be in knots by now.

  “Robert?” she shouted, but the howling wind drowned out her words. Where could he have stormed off to? Part of her wanted to leave him out here to rot for rejecting her all these years, but a larger part of her still wished to speak to him and see where his heart lay. It was not too late to be together. She felt guilt rise in her gut at the thought of turning on Ferghus, especially after what they had just shared. She knew in her heart of hearts that he was a good man and would make her a fine husband. She even knew she could love him someday. But she also knew that she may not ever love him with the fierce gut-twisting intensity that she felt for Robert. It was unfair to them all if she did not sort this out, and if Robert’s response to what he saw was any indication, he loved her just as fiercely.

  “Robert!” She shouted again and turned in a circle, trying to catch any sign of him. That cursed owl hooted again and she jumped. Why had he made his home in the trees surrounding her house? Feathered fool. “Rob—”

  A hand came around and covered her mouth from behind as another arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into the front of a body. She squealed and wriggled but the hands did not relent.

  “Why did you come out here? Can a man not find any peace?” He released her swiftly and she almost toppled over.

  “Robert?”

  “Aye? What do you want? Did you come here to further torture me?” He stormed off, cutting around a shrub and squeezing between two pine tree trunks.

  “Torture you? I have barely spoken to you all night. Why did you storm off?”

  She squealed again as her body was swiftly pushed up against the bark of a tree, his body pressing into her, holding her captive.

  “You have nay idea why I would leave?” She shook her head and frowned as she looked up to his massive height. She was not afraid of Robert. He would never harm her. “I did not like what my brother was doing to you,” he barked and drew closer to her face. She could see his features in relief now, though his eyes looked almost black. “And you let him,” he snarled.

  “I… I…” she had nothing to say. What could she say? She had allowed him. But suddenly her anger flared back to life. “’Tis none of your business, Robert O’Faolain! He is my intended husband. I did naught wrong and you have nay right to be angry with me.” She lifted her face and turned away from him.

  “I am angry!” he shouted. “So bloody angry!” He released her and punched the bark of the tree next to them. “You acted like his whore.”

  Without thinking, she gasped and slapped him across the face so hard that her hand stung. A sob came up her throat. “How… how dare you! How dare you judge me and call me such a vile name! I loved you, Robert! I waited for six years for you! You never showed me the slightest bit of interest. You never tried to court me or ask for my hand in marriage. Your brother did all of those things!”

  “And do you love him, as well?” he whispered into the night, leaning closer so she could see his face again. She still stood with her back against the tree, but he had allowed her freedom to move if she chose.

  “I will never love him the way I love you, Robert. He is a good man and I would be fortunate to be his wife, but I had meant to be yours. You never asked. ’Tis not too late…” she whispered. “If you love me, Rob, tell me so. I would choose you.”

  His body stiffened and she could sense his inner struggle. “I do not love you.”

  “You are a liar.”

  “You are a whore. And now you ask me to betray my brother for you? You are also faithless. I could never love you.”

  His words cut deep, like a dagger. Was she faithless? Her love had always been for Robert. Was it so wrong for her to seek a final chance at blissful love before deciding to move on with her life?

  “You are an... an arse!” she cried. “I hate you, Robert O’Faolain!” She shoved at his chest but he did not move. She pummeled him with her fists but he did not flinch. “I hate you! I hate you!” she sobbed so hard that tears were streaming down her face, blurring her vision. He had broken her heart, but at least she knew the truth. Why he had stormed out of her house, she may never know, but it clearly was not from love of her.

  Pushing past him, she ran full speed back to her house, wanting to be as far away from Robert O’Faolain as she could get. He would be her brother by marriage, but she would hate him with her dying breath. She would marry Ferghus and she would be a faithful wife to him, always. Because she was not a whore or faithless. She was loyal and now she would give all that loyalty to the man who actually loved her, who had always pursued her and who had asked to marry her. She would give all her love to Ferghus and never look back.

  * * *

  If Robert did not s
top scowling at her, she was going to box his ears. It was her wedding day and she refused to allow his sour disposition to ruin it for her. How she regretted trying to speak with him the night before. To think she could love such a foul-mouthed man. He had the nerve to stand behind Ferghus while he spoke his vows and shoot Brianna looks as if he wished her gone? Well, she wished him gone even more. Curse her heart for skipping a beat every time she looked in his direction.

  She had to focus on Ferghus. He was in the process of becoming her husband, after all. He deserved her undivided attention. His brooding brother could leave if he was so thoroughly disgusted.

  It was a frigid autumn day and though her light blue dress had long sleeves that flowed below her wrists, she had to concentrate to keep from shivering. It was generous of Agatha to allow Brianna to borrow a dress from Ginny, otherwise, she would have naught but rags to wed Ferghus in. They had even allowed her to use a much nicer, and warmer, dark blue cloak lined in fur. It was truly the only thing keeping her from freezing to death. Though the sky was consumed by dark gray clouds, blessedly the rain had stayed away so far. Even that cursed owl who seemed to hoot at her all hours of the day had kept his distance. Ginny had woven beautiful wildflowers into the dark strands of her hair and Brianna could not help but feel like the Queen of the Fae as they exchanged vows.

  “Ferghus and Brianna, this cord symbolizes unity. It is your life, your love, and the eternal connection that the two of you have found with one another. The ties of this handfasting are not formed by the knots connecting them. They are formed instead by your vows, by your pledge, your souls, and your two hearts, now bound together as one.”

  Brianna’s eyes locked on Ferghus’s and she felt herself melt a little inside. He was so handsome and kind. How had she been so fortunate? To think she could have made the mistake of marrying the wrong brother. The druid said a few more final prayers and before she knew it, Agatha began ringing the loud bells in her hand to ward off the evil spirits just as the druid tied the final knot on the cord binding her wrist to Ferghus’s. She barely had time to breathe before his lips descended on hers.

  He tasted of mint and she could not help but sigh as his free hand came around to encircle her waist. For the first time in her life, a man was kissing her, not the other way around. He truly loved her and that made all the difference. She had already publicly vowed to honor and cherish him, but she made that silent vow to herself as he pulled away from their kiss, laughing with pure happiness shining in his eyes. Aye, she would love Ferghus with her whole heart.

  “I am a married man, brother!” Ferghus turned swiftly to look at Robert, but a frown formed on his lips when he saw the forbidding look cross Robert’s face. Clearly, Brianna was not the only one to notice Robert’s unsavory mood. “What has you so angry?” Ferghus asked with what Brianna recognized as disappointment.

  Brianna would not allow him to ruin Ferghus’s happiness. “Come, husband, let us make our way to your home, so we can have our celebratory feast!” she said with a smile as she grabbed onto Ferghus’s hand just before their parents and Ginny surrounded them with congratulatory remarks. Even her father was standing on his own and smiling. She knew just how hard it must be for him to appear well for even a short ceremony. Her heart ached, knowing he would not be with her long.

  Once Ferghus was distracted, she shot Robert a scathing scowl over her shoulder. She also made sure he saw it. The man was a blight on their happiness. It was not her or Ferghus’s fault that Robert was in a constantly poor mood but with her one look, she hoped she conveyed her message: she would not put up with his poor behavior any longer, especially if it hurt Ferghus. Again, she thought on her poor judgment of his character. Robert used to be kind, fun, and all the things she had hoped for in a husband. Now, she would be fortunate to simply endure his presence. What had she done to suddenly make him hate her so? As hard as she tried, his behavior bothered her more than she cared to admit. How did a lass learn to stop loving a lad? How cruel must he be before her heart stopped betraying her? She did not know, but she vowed to ignore him completely for the rest of the day. Blast Robert O’Faolain and her cursed love for him.

  * * *

  Robert felt as if he would be sick. He had set out to make Brianna hate him so she would accept Ferghus’s offer of marriage. His brother had loved the lass for so long and Robert knew he had to step aside for everyone’s sake. Still, there may have been a better way to handle the situation. Calling her a faithless whore had obviously led to her utter disdain. He deserved it, he knew. Part of him wished he could have simply told her the truth, that he was irrevocably in love with her but so was Ferghus. How could Robert be responsible for breaking his brother’s heart? Instead, he had broken hers. But based on the way she giggled right now, while sitting in Ferghus’s lap as he very publicly mauled her neck with his tongue, Robert knew she would forget his cruel words and learn to love Ferghus, just as he hoped she would.

  By the gods, she looked beautiful with her dark hair plaited and wildflowers woven into the strands. Ginny’s dress looked stunning on Brianna as it clung to her every curve. She deserved nice dresses, not the rags she had been living in, though she looked lovely even in those. Her hazel eyes that used to look at him with such want and tenderness now refused to even shift in his direction. He was an arse. How could he fight his love for her without pushing her so far away? He was not certain, but he did know that it was too late. She was married to his brother and he was doomed to see her every day of his life, yet be forced to repress his urge to claim her as his own.

  What must Ferghus think of him? He had caught Robert scowling. Did he presume Robert hated Brianna? If so, it was better than the truth. As amicable as Ferghus was, he would likely run Robert through with his own blade if he knew how terribly Robert wanted his wife. How at this very moment he could not help but stare at her plump lips and imagine them on his own, or the roundness of her breasts as they pushed against the straining fabric of the dress. What would she look like unclothed? These were thoughts he should not be thinking about his brother’s wife, but mayhap at least allowing his imagination to wander would keep his hand from wandering instead.

  Ferghus would no doubt bed Brianna tonight. That thought made Robert’s stomach sour. Even his mother’s roasted boar could not taste like more than ashes to him. The woman he loved was now his sister. How could he come to terms with this? Mayhap he needed to attempt to smile and congratulate them, if only to spare Ferghus any grief. He wished to excuse himself, but he had nowhere else to go. This was his home. Mayhap he should find his way to the gathering hall and find a willing serving lass to bury himself, and his sorrows, in. That thought only made him feel worse. He did not want a serving lass. He wanted the woman who was now whispering something into Ferghus’s ear. He could not know what she said, but it was clearly enticing enough to make his brother stand up abruptly and scoop her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

  “If you will all excuse me, the night grows late and I have a bride to bed,” Ferghus said as he waggled his brows suggestively, causing Brianna to turn redder than a berry.

  “Ferghus!” she reprimanded with a swat to his shoulder before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her embarrassment.

  “’Tis not as if they do not know, love,” he murmured into her ear loud enough for the entire room to hear.

  “Go on now, Fergh,” their mother said with a flourish, not at all discomforted by Ferghus’s display. “We shall see you two on the morrow.”

  Their father and Niall only smiled like fools as Ferghus carried Brianna out of their house, slamming the door behind them.

  “It pleases me greatly to see my daughter so content with your son,” her father rocked back and forth on his heels with delight. His gaze briefly shifted to Robert. Did Niall suspect just how deeply Robert was pining for his daughter? How much he regretted fighting his feelings for as long as he had?

  “I hate to be an inconvenience to you, but I suppose I m
ust stay here for the night, seeing as my house will be… er, occupied.” Niall started coughing wildly, covering his mouth with a linen square that he seemed to keep tucked into his fist at all times. The man could do no more than sit on a bench against the wall for support, and Robert feared the man had few days left.

  Ginny tittered under her breath at Niall’s insinuation and Robert rolled his eyes. He needed air. And ale. And mayhap a serving lass would be better than nothing at all. “You may use my bed, Niall. I am off to the hall and will likely not find my way home anytime soon.” If he was fortunate enough, he would drink himself into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Four

  One year later

  “There you are, my wee, lovely wife. I have missed you so,” Ferghus came into the house swaying proudly in all his glory, his beautiful chest muscles glistening with the sweat of the day and his tunic bunched up in his hand. Walking up to her, he pinched her backside and she squealed with delight.

  “’Tis only been a few hours since last we spoke. Though it feels like an eternity, I must admit.” She kissed him soundly on the lips and he placed his hand upon her rounded stomach.

  “How is my son?”

  “And how do you know ’tis a lad? Mayhap ’tis a lass?” she asked with a quirked brow.

  “I hope it is. She shall be the bonniest of lassies if she looks like her mama.” He gave her one more soft, sweet kiss and then pulled away. “That stew in the cauldron smells wonderful. Is it my favorite?” he asked hopefully.

  “Aye, ’tis. Rabbit stew, just for you.”

  “Och, I love you, woman.”