After being shown to a chamber on the second floor of the keep, and informed that her room was adjacent to the laird’s solar, Gwen was given a basin of water so she could wash up, a clean gown, and a comb for her hair. The knowledge that the laird would be in the next room and could enter her chamber without an invitation at any time—day or night—caused her stomach to knot with dread.

“What’s your name?” Gwen asked the maid, trying to get her mind on something other than a potential rape by her future husband. The woman had been kind to her, and even risked punishment by intervening on her behalf with the laird.

“My name is Enid,” the maid replied. “Is there anything else you need, m’lady?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you for speaking up on my behalf with the laird.”

“You are most welcome, but I suggest you freshen up and make haste. The laird doesna like to be kept waiting. Especially when he has requested your presence.”

“You mean demanded my presence,” Gwen countered, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Does everyone around here jump when he speaks? I thought his brother was laird of this castle.”

The maid unlaced the back of Gwen’s gown, then took a step back. “Aye, Lord Collin is laird here, but Lord Duncan is the eldest brother, and all the more reason you need to hurry. They are like two peas, and neither likes to be disobeyed. If you wish I can escort you to the hall once you’ve had a chance to change and wash.”

“No thanks. I’ll find it myself. And if you don’t mind, I’d like a few moments to myself.”

“As you wish. Summon me when you require my assistance, m’lady. I will be serving as your lady’s maid from now on.”

“What about when we go to the Orkneys.” Just saying it sent a shiver up her spine.

“I’ve been told I will accompany you.”

“I’d like that, and will let you know if I need your assistance.” After waiting for the Enid to leave, Gwen quickly barred the door leading into the hallway, and did the same with the one between her chamber and the laird’s. Not that it would stop him if he set his mind to ravaging her.

She chastised herself for agreeing to come to Gower Castle in the first place, but quickly recalled the menacing look on Damen’s face when he threatened to harm Lilith if she refused to go with the escort sent by Laird Gower. The evil bastard left her no choice but to comply, or have the woman who claimed to be her mother’s death on her conscience. She prayed Lilith could find Beatha and learn how to send the changeling back to the netherworld and help her to return to the future—and Kyle.

The more she thought about her plight, the more determined she became to avoid Laird Gower. She’d agreed to come here for Lilith’s sake, but that didn’t mean she had to subject herself to his company any more than necessary. Tomorrow was soon enough. She’d endured an arduous journey over rocky terrain to meet a tyrant she despised from the moment she laid eyes on him. She was exhausted and had aches in places she didn’t know existed. Despite the hunger gnawing at the pit of her stomach, she had never been one to take orders, so decided to go to bed, rather than the hall as he commanded.

Gwen wished she had a tub of hot water so she could soak her weary bones, but the wooden basin left by the maid would have to do for now. After taking off her filthy gown, she tossed it on a chair near the door. She washed the grime from her face and hands, then searched for the clothing Lilith had packed for her to bring along. When she found the canvas sack on the floor at the foot of the bed, she rooted through it until she found the nightgown. She slipped the muslin garment over her head, the cool crisp fabric feeling good against her skin.

Her eyes heavy and her head aching, she climbed beneath the pelts. The laird would not be pleased when she didn’t show up in the hall, but she was too tired to think about that now. Hopefully he’d consume enough sprits during the meal that he’d not bother to come looking for her. She rolled onto her side and drifted off.

~ * ~

Content and fully sated, her body still alive with the hum of making love until the wee hours of the morning, Gwen languorously stretched, then propped herself up on one elbow. Her gaze locked on the magnificent man standing by the window. Not only was Kyle MacKay a brilliant doctor—kind, generous, and devastatingly handsome—he was a caring and tender lover, always making sure she reached orgasm more than once, before he sought his own.

As she watched him in silence, admiring the sculpted contours of his broad shoulders, honed muscles rippling across his back, his narrow waist, and firm buttocks, her stomach fluttered with desire. She smiled, remembering the night of unbridled passion they’d just shared, yet she couldn’t get enough of him.

They had a fantastic relationship, based not only on physical attraction, but on friendship and mutual respect. There wasn’t a single thing about him she didn’t adore, and while she knew most women dreamed of finding and settling down with a wonderful man like Kyle, she saw no reason to change something that was already working for them. But every time they made love and she lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, it was harder and harder to say no to his proposals.

“You’re awake, sweetheart. After last night, I figured you’d sleep till noon.” Kyle stood by the bed and flashed her a smile that melted her heart. He reached out and gently swept a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “A penny for your thoughts.”

She grinned up at him, her pulse racing. “You are in my thoughts, and worth a hell of a lot more than a penny,” she said, then lay back on the bed, her head resting on the pillow.

“All good thoughts I hope.” He crawled into bed beside her, quickly enveloped her in his arms, then buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Mmmm, you smell good enough to eat, and I’m starving.” He nipped at her earlobe.

“You’re insatiable,” she replied, and playfully thumped his shoulder with her fist. “I believe if you had your way, we’d never get out of bed, not even to eat.” She snuggled against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining.”

In one swift move, he rolled her beneath him and covered her mouth with a kiss that stormed her senses and caused her to curl her toes into the mattress. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m glad, because I plan to ravage you again.”

“I’d like that,” she cooed, closed her eyes and inhaled his intoxicating scent, savored the way her skin tingled in response to his moist breath against her heated flesh, and the gentleness of his touch as he lightly stroked the swell of her breasts, before taking a nipple into his mouth.

Lost in a euphoric fog and craving more, she moaned softly and arched her back as he eagerly suckled and nibbled while he gently kneaded and palmed her other breast. Moist heat pooled between her thighs and she spread her legs, granting him access to her most intimate place.

Kyle dipped his finger between feminine folds that were now slick and wet with need, then encircled her bud of arousal. He repeated the action over and over, alternated the tempo from fast to slow until she saw stars, lost control, and shattered into a million pieces.

Without saying a word, he tucked her beneath him and entered her in one quick thrust, waited a moment for her body to close around his shaft, then began to pump his hips until he reached the peak of arousal and plummeted over the edge, taking her with him in another orgasm that left her breathless and panting for air.

“That was amazing,” she gasped. “I love you, Kyle.”

~ * ~

A loud pounding on the door caused Gwen to sit up with a start. She immediately reached for Kyle, but the bed beside her was empty. She frantically searched the room, but quickly realized she was very much alone and must have been dreaming.

“Open the door, woman, or I will break it down!”

Gwen immediately recognized the laird’s voice, his words slurred by what she suspected was too much spirits. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, hoping if she remained quiet, he might go away. But she doubted she’d be that lucky.

“I said open the door!” The laird pounded louder than he had the first time. “Make me enter by force and you will live to regret it.”

There was no way he was leaving and Gwen knew it. If she continued the standoff, she might buy herself a few minutes, but the end result could be far worse if he did in fact break down the door. There was no doubt in her mind he was capable of the feat. For a man of his age, he appeared to be quite fit and could likely do a fair bit of damage when riled. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she slid from the bed and padded to the door, but didn’t open it.

“I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t think it wise to go to the hall, for fear I might faint,” she lied, hoping he might take pity on her and calm down.

He pounded again. “Open the door if you know what is good for you, lass. No one locks me out of a room. Especially my wife.”

She opened the door a crack. “I am not your wife,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice from wobbling. “And am not trying to show you any disrespect,” she quickly added. “I needed some rest after an arduous journey, and fourteen hours in the saddle. I was sure you’d understand.”

Laird Gower shoved open the door, nearly knocking Gwen off her feet. “I understand naught,” he bellowed. He immediately grabbed her by the arm with bruising force. After giving her a rough shake, he glared down at her, his nostrils flared and the veins in his forehead throbbing. “Insolent bitch. When I summon you, I expect you to come. When I tell you to spread your legs for me, you’ll do it.” He threw her on the bed, then hovered over her with his fists clenched.

Fighting back the urge to defend herself and stand up to him, she peered up, her chin held high. “I explained that I was ill and meant no disrespect. I’m sorry if you thought I was disobeying your orders and hope you can forgive me.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she suspected if she showed him any backbone or angered him further, he would force himself on her then and there.

“Forgive you?” he spat. “You humiliated me in front of my brother and his men when you dinna show up as ordered. Damen MacQuin promised me a willing bride, a virgin who would obey me and sate my needs when called upon. So far you have done neither. You are also na the woman I was promised.”

Gwen sat up and looked the laird in the eye. “If you are not pleased with me, I will gladly return to MacQuin Castle.” She figured her openness might evoke his anger, but also believed if you show a bully fear, they will feed on it and take advantage.

The laird’s glower intensified and he leaned so close, she could smell the overpowering stench of whisky on his breath, but she refused to look away.

“You are na the woman I expected, but you are bought and paid for, and will have do beneath the pelts,” he growled. “Damen will hear about it soon enough, and that I expect some compensation for the change. He promised me a buxom, raven-haired beauty with soft curves, not someone like you.”

Arrogant, bastard. I’d rather die than have you touch me, was the first thought that popped into her mind. But she kept it to herself. She couldn’t believe the insulting way he spoke to her, but honestly didn’t expect more from the barbarian, known as the Demon of the Kirkwall.

“You are right in being angry with Damen and should demand he honor his agreement,” she stammered. “He should never have made a substitution without telling you first, but I also had no say in his decision.” She couldn’t tell by his never-changing scowl if he was softening or getting angrier.

“He sent me a missive, explaining that his cousin, the lass who was supposed to be sent, was found dead in her chamber, and that he was sending you, his sister, in her place. He said he felt it was a better choice, given you are Laird MacQuin’s daughter, but I canna say I agree.”

Gwen’s heart clenched and her pulse began to race when she heard Ainsley was dead. Damen had told her and Lilith his cousin ran off in the middle of the night with her lover, but now Gwen wondered if he had the lass killed so he could send her instead, thus getting her out of the castle and protecting his true identity. “Our cousin was lovely and her death is certainly a great loss, so I don’t blame you for being disappointed.”

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefingers and tilted her face toward the candlelight, examining her features. “You are comely enough, even if you are a bit thin for my liking, not to mention you have pale hair. But I supposes you will have to do.” He fumbled with the ties at the top of his trews, the fabric eventually falling open, exposing his burgeoning shaft. “Lift your night rail and let’s get this done.” He leaned forward and placed his hand on her thighs. “But first, I’ll sample the wares and taste you.”

He tried to pry her legs apart, but Gwen refused to yield. Her stomach churned at the thought of this horrible beast putting his lips anywhere on her body, especially where he intended. She wanted to kick him in the groin and make a run for the door, but figured she’d not get far, and once tackled, he’d beat her, then rape her.

She decided humble and sweet was the way to approach this delicate situation. “Please, m’lord, I beg you not to do this. We are not yet married and I wish to wait until we arrive on the island and have said our vows before God.” Her words obviously caught him by surprise and he released his hold, providing her with the opportunity to scoot to the other side of the bed and temporarily out of his reach. “Is that not arrangement you made with my brother?”

“My groin aches and I desire a tumble, now. Clearly inebriated, his words were slurred and he swayed as if about to lose his balance. “It has been a while since I had a virgin in my bed,” he growled. “Besides, Damen is na here.” He lunged forward, caught her around her waist, then threw her onto the bed. “We’ve tarried long enough.”

“He may not be here now, but Damen sets great store in this treaty and betrothal.” She, hoped the pact was as important to Gower as it was Damen and might reconsider his plan to rape her. “It is a sacred agreement meant to mend the discord between our clans and an end to the bloodshed. If you dishonor me or the agreement, mistreat me in any way, there is not telling what Damen might do?”

He halted and glared down at her. “Are you saying you refuse to lay with me?”

“I’m saying the treaty is important and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize its success,” Gwen replied. “I was not raised in MacQuin Castle and was only this week reunited with my family,” Gwen stammered. “But I quickly learned that Damen is not someone I would rile or double-cross. To dishonor me is the same as dishonoring my brother and father. I ask you, m’lord, is a tumble out of wedlock worth risking all you have worked to achieve?”

“Damn you Damen,” he cursed, the spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Once she was certain he would not be back, Gwen curled up into a tight ball in the center of the bed, sobbing. She’d come perilously close to being raped and prayed she’d figure out a way to get away from here before he tried again. “Kyle,” she muttered his name on a whisper, wishing he was the one here and the laird was the nightmare.