Craven found Espy seated at the table in the Great Hall, waiting, like a dutiful wife, for him to join her for the morning meal. While he believed she would be a good wife, dutiful was questionable, though she had been more than dutiful in bed last night. She actually seemed to enjoy his every touch, his every kiss. She had not shied away and he had woken this morning with every intention of coupling with her again… but she had been gone.

It had angered him not to find her there and it reminded him that he wanted a better answer than she went for a ride. She went for a ride for a reason and he wanted to know where and why. She had still to explain where she had disappeared to right after they had wed.

She smiled and stood at his approach and he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek when he stopped beside her.

“I thought now, while we share the morning meal, you could tell me what duties you expect of me as your wife,” she said after they sat.

A grin surfaced on its own as he leaned over to whisper, “Keep me pleasured.”

Espy leaned closer, the sweet scent of mint brushing his lips as she whispered, “How many times a day? Two, three, or more? Or whenever the feeling strikes us?” Her whisper grew softer. “Like now when I ache to have you—”

Espy gasped as Craven stood so abruptly that his chair tumbled backward, hitting the floor and he snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder. She gasped again when his hand came down on her backside.

“You think to tease me? I will show you what it is to tease,” he said and walked out of the Great Hall, chuckles from the few who were there following after them.

Espy was surprised when he entered his solar and her stomach fluttered when she heard the lock on the door fall in place. When he dropped her to her feet in front of the narrow table she turned concerned eyes on him. “Was I wrong in being playful with you? If I overstepped my bounds as your wife, please forgive me. This is so new to me in so many ways and even though our marriage is out of necessity, as you said, I cannot help but love you—foolish as you think that may be—I hoped we could make it a good marriage if not a loving one. And I must be honest and admit that I do enjoy making love with you and—”

Craven cupped her face in his large hands and silenced her nervous chatter with a kiss. He ended the kiss sooner than he would have liked to and touched the tip of his nose to hers. “You have crossed no bounds for there are no bounds between us. I love that you make your desire known to me and I must admit that I love making love with you as well, though I fear I may never get enough of you.”

I love making love with you as well. His words had her heart soaring, and she smiled.

He smiled as well, though it turned wicked as he said, “Now as for turning me hard with your teasing taunt…”

He spun her around, bent her over the narrow table, and threw her skirt up, exposing her bare backside.

His hands grabbed her firm cheeks, squeezing them tight, and it elicited a gasp of pleasure from her that soared his own. His manhood swelled along with his need as he slipped his hand between her legs and felt her moist and ready. His fingers eagerly sought to stroke and pleasure the little, sensitive bud and her response was a sharp lift of her head and a deep throaty moan of pleasure.

A rippling tingle rushed down to her toes and up to her nipples pressed against the top of the wood table and she shuddered at its pleasurable intensity.

Another moan suddenly took hold, a stronger more aching one, when his thick manhood poked hard against her backside. Her need to have him inside her overwhelmed her. She wanted him now. She wanted to feel his thick member slip inside her and satisfy this hungry ache that he had brought on her so fast and furiously.

She wiggled her backside hard against him and he leaned down over her, his hand wrapping around her braid and yanking her head back to leave her mouth vulnerable to his lips. With a rumbling growl, his lips settled over hers and his tongue delved hard into her mouth, forcing her to respond, and she gladly did. His demanding kiss, his probing fingers, and his thick shaft rubbing, poking, teasing her was too much to bear.

She tore her mouth away from his to demand, “I want you inside me.”

“No,” he ordered and ground his lips against hers with such a searing demand, that she felt as if he was branding her for all to know that she belonged to him and a ripple of wicked pleasure raced over her, tingling her flesh until she shuddered so hard that she thought she would come there and then.

She managed to break her lips away from his again. “Please, Craven, I am going to come.”

“Aye, and more than once,” he said and gave her bare backside a tender smack. “And you will not tease me again, wife.”

Espy chuckled. “On that, husband, you are mistaken.”

It was no gasp that she let loose next, but a roar of pleasure when Craven entered her. He gripped the sides of her backside, holding firm as he slammed into her over and over and he was true to his word.

Espy cried out in pleasure twice before he exploded in his own climax and then she joined him again in another of her own.

Craven collapsed over her, his hands braced to either side of her head as he let the last of the satisfying pleasure drift away. He stayed as he was, wanting to remain buried inside her, wanting to remain joined with her, wanting that feeling of wholeness to linger as long as possible.

When he heard her sigh softly, he slipped his arm beneath her breasts and hugged her against him. He felt a strong tug at his heart, fighting feelings that rumbled and churned inside him and he spoke the only words he could bring himself to say at the moment and seemed far too inadequate when he did. “I do enjoy you, wife.”

“And I you, husband,” she said with joyous enthusiasm that could not be denied.

Craven heard not only the joy but the love in her response. She let her love for him be heard in her words, her touch, and since he was admitting the truth, he had also seen it in her eyes when she looked at him. Aubrey had had a similar look, but it had not been as intense, but then Espy had a passion about her that he had never seen in a woman.

Reluctantly, he released and moved off her, though she followed him up off the table as if she too was reluctant to separate from him.

Craven’s arm went around her out of sheer instinct. It belonged there. She belonged there beside him, forever beside him.

Espy rubbed gently at the deep lines that suddenly appeared between his eyes. “Something troubles you?”

“No, I am late for the practice field,” he said which was true but that was not what had caused his brow to crease. It was the thought of leaving her, even if only for a while.

“Then go, but first quickly tell me what chores are now mine since I am your wife.”

“You have chores enough with being the clan’s healer,” he said, walking with her to the door.

“I will see to the running of the keep, since I believe that is a wife’s duty” she said, scurrying out of his arm and out the door when he opened it and off she ran before he could dictate otherwise.

Craven smiled, hearing her light laughter trickle behind her and fall around him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her lingering on him. He had not felt such joy, such contentment since Aubrey and guilt rose up to jab at him.

He had thought his heart had died with Aubrey that day. That he would never feel the joy of loving someone again. He had never thought to find love in the first place, but Aubrey had stolen his heart so quickly, he had not even been sure how it had happened.

She smiled at him. He would never forget Aubrey’s smile, soft and timid, or her quietness. She had never once argued with him or dared disobey him, and never had she been untruthful with him. He had known peace with Aubrey.

There would be no peace with Espy. She would do what she saw fit to help others even if he forbid it. She would challenge his sanity at every turn and tempt him with every touch. Why did he find that so appealing?

* * *

Espy went straight to the kitchen and spoke briefly with Aggie, the cook, letting her know that she was going to see to the running the keep now and that Aggie should seek her counsel if she required anything. She had been grateful when Aggie offered her help should there be anything she was unfamiliar with in the keep. She had no experience in running a keep, but she never let lack of knowledge stop her before. Her da had always encouraged her to dive in and explore, ask questions, listen, and learn from those more knowledgeable. She would do the same with the workings of the keep. Besides, it was her responsibility and she had never shied away from responsibility.

She went to the healing cottage after leaving the kitchen and was surprised and a bit uncomfortable when people referred to her as my lady. She was Espy, equal to all she tended. She did not want a useless title to interfere with that. She would speak with Craven and hoped he would agree with her.

She spotted Ober sitting on the bench outside the healing cottage as soon as the place came into view. He would come to her for a brew when he was not feeling well, claiming the brew eased his suffering considerably. Espy did not know how that could be possible since the brew she gave him was nothing more than chamomile and mint.

Tula had told her that he was friendly to all and offered his help to many when he felt well enough. Still, there was something about him that made her hesitate in trusting him. There was that nagging thought that he seemed familiar, but she could not recall where she may have seen him before. She had been to far too many places and had far too many people to recall them all, though Ober was one person she wished she could recall.

“Congratulations on your wedding, my lady,” Ober said, rising up off the bench to stand on wobbling limbs.

“Sit,” Espy urged as she drew near and placed her arm around his shoulder to help lower him to the bench. “Thank you, Ober. I am sure it was a surprise to all.”

“A pleasant and delightful surprise to all from what I have heard,” he said, his smile quickly fading to a grimace. “My bones are hurting bad, my lady. I could use more of that brew, though I think my time is drawing near.”

“Nonsense,” Espy said, “you are getting better every day. Sit here and rest while I prepare a brew for you.” It did not take long and soon Espy returned, handing Ober a tankard and joining him on the bench. It was time to find out some things about the man and see if she could spark her memory.

“Thank you, my lady, I have been in need of this,” Ober said, cupping the tankard in his hands.

“Where is your home Ober?”

“Here, there, everywhere. I have been a wanderer far too long,” he said and sipped at the brew.

“How did you ply your trade as a smithy if you wandered so much?” she asked and caught the slight jerk to his body, as if he realized his mistake.

“There is always work for a smithy somewhere,” he said, nodding as if it proved his words.

“It does not seem that you got much work,” Espy said and watched the knuckles in his hands turn white as his grip on the tankard tightened.

“Why do you say that?”

“Your hands have no scars and a smithy never escapes scars, so I assume you found little work during your wandering.”

He nodded in agreement. “Enough to help me survive.”

“I have wandered some myself, perhaps we crossed paths along the way.”

He shook his head. “I did not travel far up into the Highlands where the old ways still rule.”

“How do you know I traveled far up into the Highlands or that the old ways rule there, if you have never been there?”

He tongue was quick to defend. “I heard tales of those who have been there and everyone is talking about Warrick sending his warriors for you and he resides farther up in the Highlands or so I have heard.”

“Gossip spreads like the wind over the land,” Espy said and Ober agreed with repeated nods and shortly after that he took his leave, refusing any help from Espy as he slowly shuffled off.

What was it about Ober that made him feel familiar, but not in a comfortable way? Where had she seen him? Or had she? Could she be mistaken? She shook her head and entered the cottage. One day it would come to her. One day she would remember.