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tugged. Without warning, her body shattered with such force of pleasure she bucked upward, her back arching and everything in her mind going numb from the pleasure he elicited. She cried out, shouting his name again and again.
    Reed claimed with a demanding, carnal kiss. He possessed her with his mouth, his body pounding into hers, not allowing her to come down from her climax but shooting her into another one.
    As her dripping-wet channel clenched around his cock, Reed shouted out her name, claiming her in erotic tones. He shuddered as he gave a few final powerful thrusts, and inside she felt the warmth of his seed as it shot deep within.
    She’d planned to avoid her husband like the plague. And after such an earthmoving bedding, she’d have to elude him at all costs. He was sure to have her begging on her knees for more of his touch if she wasn’t careful.

Chapter Five
     
    When Sorcha woke the following morning, the bed was cold and empty. And she thanked the heavens for that. After last night, she was unsure how to handle her husband, how she could look at him without thinking of the wicked things they’d done and how much she enjoyed them.
    As soon as she stirred, a maid came in, quietly pouring clean water in a basin and setting out a fresh gown and chemise from her trunk, which must have arrived while she slept. The maid straightened the sheets and coverlet, looking pointedly at the white bed—not a spot of blood. Sorcha was sure to be damned in the eyes of the people for not coming to bed a virgin.
    But she would not let that rattle her. She straightened her shoulders and dared the woman to say anything. The maid swallowed, curtseyed and just as silently as she’d come in, left.
    She had no friends here. Not even her husband. As much as he got into the core of her, took possession of her mind with his prowess, she wasn’t sure she could trust him—and certainly not with her heart.
    With a sigh of resignation, she dressed and then descended into the great hall in search of something to eat. A servant brought her a bowl of cold mush and a glass of warm ale, both of which turned her stomach. She pushed away the half-filled dishes and stood, ready to give herself a tour of the keep and grounds.
    “My lady.” An elderly woman with thinning gray hair approached her. “My name is Beathag. I’m the housekeeper.”
    Sorcha nodded. The woman had kind eyes and a soft mouth with creases around the edges. She must smile a lot. Sorcha took an instant liking to her. “I’m sure ye have done a great deal for your laird over the years, have ye not, Beathag?”
    “Aye, my lady.” She studied her quizzically, perhaps wondering what it was Sorcha would ask of her.
    The woman had naught to worry about. “Well then, ye shall keep doing it.” She leaned in close, whispering, “I’m not really mistress material, if ye will. I grew up with all brothers and learned to wield a sword instead of a broom. I’d prefer to keep it that way. And I’d not want to muddle the system ye have in place already.”
    Beathag smiled widely and clasped her hands together. “If ye so say it, my lady, I am happy to oblige ye.”
    Sorcha wiggled her brows. “I would be most grateful because if I were to take on the duties of a mistress, I fear the whole clan would suffer from it.”
    “Not to worry.”
    Sorcha left Beathag and went outside in search of her Campbell. She assumed he was training with his men in the fields. She enjoyed watching the men at home, always eager to learn a few new tricks. It would also give her a chance to find a secluded place she could practice her own weapons.
    She heard them before she spotted them. The sounds of grunting, shouting, metal clanging, thuds as weapons and people hit the ground. She was both chilled and thrilled by the noises.
    The men took up a vast field, their bodies slick with sweat. None wore their shirts, only plaids wrapped around their hips. The muscles on display were a sight to see, but