The Warlord's Promise Read online

  The Warlord’s Promise

  An erotic short story by

  Alyssa Morgan

  This is an explicit and erotic novel

  intended for the enjoyment

  of adult readers. Please keep

  out of the hands of children.

  www.Phaze.com

  The Warlord’s Promise

  Copyright © 2011 by Alyssa Morgan

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Edited by Judy Bagshaw

  Cover Art © 2011 by Trish Schmitt

  First Edition July 2011

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-617-3

  Published by:

  Phaze Books

  An imprint of Mundania Press LLC

  6457 Glenway Ave., #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6457 Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  Kate hated warlords. Absolutely despised them. Especially Ethan MacGregor, the one who ruled over her village.

  It was said among the people that warlords were a necessary evil, evil being the choice word. So long as a person was willing to trade something, a warlord was willing to offer his protection. Clans, bandits and thieves ruled the roads, terrorizing small villages like Kate's, so safety was a priority for everyone, no matter what the cost.

  Very few would dare challenge a warlord, and those who did never lived to tell about it.

  Kate stared up at the sliver of moon hanging in the night sky and pulled the hood of her cape over her head. Winter would come early this year. She could see the cloud of her breath as she let out a heavy sigh.

  It was time. Her turn to trade something to the warlord, but not in exchange for protection. It would be her body for her sister's freedom.

  Alison was the youngest of Kate's four sisters and also her favorite.

  The young girl had managed to become the unwilling guest of Ethan MacGregor while out wandering the woods one fateful day. The warlord sent a message to her home stating he would wed Alison by the next full moon unless her father had something to trade for her. How fitting.

  Of course Kate's father saw it as a blessing for their family if one of his daughters were wed to Ethan. He imagined they would all be protected and provided for, maybe even moved into a bigger house on more fertile lands. He had no intention of stopping the union.

  Kate saw it another way. She watched Alison's betrothed, a young shepherd, moping around the village, broken-hearted. She thought of her sweet baby sister being stolen from her life and terrorized by a brute, subjected to a life of misery and servitude. At least as a widow, Kate was no stranger to what was expected of a woman in the marriage bed.

  When Kate thought of the warlord taking her sister's virginity, she'd jumped on her father's horse, raced to the large house on the hill and made a deal with the man.

  Which hadn't been easy. Ethan MacGregor wasn't very welcoming of strangers. Rather than receiving her in his home, she'd been led back to the stables where the warlord was over-seeing the construction of a new addition of stalls.

  He and the working men were stripped of their shirts, their broad, tanned muscles bunching and flexing as they labored. She recognized Ethan's hard profile immediately. His long, dark hair was secured with a leather thong and his skin was covered with a layer of dirt and sweat. Kate was lucky she had no interest in men, no matter how nicely put together they might be. She'd only thought of how rude it was for the warlord to receive her so poorly. He obviously lacked even the basest manners.

  The man had barely spared her a glance when she was announced by his servant. He’d kept his back to her almost the entire time she was humbly begging him to free her sister. She'd worried at first that he hadn't listened to a word she'd said until he finally replied over his shoulder, "Do you have anything to offer me in place of your sister?"

  When his dark eyes finally settled on hers, Kate knew she would trade anything in that desperate moment.

  "I own nothing," she'd told him.

  "That's not entirely true," he'd replied. "You seek to deprive me of a beautiful companion, which is what I desire above all things. I'd consider taking you in Alison's place."

  Kate wasn't at all shocked by his words. She knew what kind of man she was dealing with. And he was right. All she owned in this world was herself. She was prepared to do whatever he asked of her. "Fine. But I have no desire to wed you."

  That earned her a stern look from the man.

  She had to remember she was on his ground now. He might lack manners but that didn't give her an excuse to do the same. "I'm certain there are others better suited for you than my sister and I."

  "Aye," he'd agreed.

  The big oaf! How dare he insult her so. She needed to find a way to cut their conversation short before she let him know what she really thought of him. "And I imagine a man like you is only after one thing where ladies are concerned."

  "You seem to have me all sorted out."

  "Well, there doesn't appear to be much depth to you." Kate had cringed with shame as soon as those words left her lips.

  A moment of silence passed before he spoke. "So what's it to be?"

  "I'll give myself to you for one night if you'll free my sister."

  "Verra well," he'd said, swiping away some of the sweat and dirt on his brow with his forearm. "Be here after sundown three days from now. If you spend the entire night pleasing me in bed, I will let your sister go."

  She nodded her agreement and turned to flee.

  "And Kate," he'd stopped her.

  "Yes?" She'd looked back over her shoulder into those cold, dark eyes of his.

  "I expect you to wear your finest dress and leave your hair down. If you disobey this request, the deal is off."

  Now the reality of what she had to do was closing in, but she had three days. She should be grateful he was giving her time to prepare. He could have taken her right there in his stables. On the cold, hard ground. In front of all his men.

  The next three days passed in a blur and Kate didn't once feel bad for what she'd agreed to. Being a widow, she had no virtue to protect. She had no children to worry about, and after this stunt, she was certain her family wouldn’t care what the warlord did with her.

  Better that she be the one to suffer in the place of an innocent girl.

  Alison had her whole life ahead of her, and Kate had already lived hers.

  Besides, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It was only
for one night.

  Her only worry was that he expected her to please him. She didn't have much experience with that, but she'd figure it out. She hoped.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp scent of the fertile lands that surrounded Ethan MacGregor's home. They would probably get frost tonight. Maybe the first snow in another week or two.

  As she neared the warlord's manor, she pushed back the hood of her cape, letting the cold night air sharpen her senses. Shock her awake. She focused on the torches glowing in the darkness, their flickering flames illuminating the expanse of the grounds. She swallowed hard, tasting her fear. The echo of voices carried on the soft breeze that picked up.

  She put her shoulders back and steeled her nerves as she approached the massive wooden double doors looming before her. She’d never been on the other side of them. The heavy doors swung open as she got closer.

  She was expected.

  Warmth rushed out of the house and with it the smells of cooking food; chicken, potatoes, herbs. Her stomach growled. She’d been too anxious to eat before coming. She’d spent her days torturing herself with thoughts of this night and now it was finally here. She was a nervous wreck.

  An older man appeared as she hovered in the entryway. His short hair was graying and his wrinkled face looked tired, yet he carried himself with a quiet grace. He was richly dressed in a fine, gold-embroidered tunic, dark trousers and shiny leather boots.

  “Lady,” he addressed her, giving a brief nod of his head. “Please, follow me. Your Lord awaits.”

  As she followed the old servant through Ethan MacGregor's home, she was surprised to find the place was so warm and comfortable. Clean.

  Pictures and tapestries on the wall hung straight, the furniture was elegant and neatly arranged, the rooms illuminated by large candles and blazing fires. There were even rugs under her feet.

  She had not expected the warlord's home to be so... cozy. She'd had nightmares of the place being dark and drafty, the rooms full of ragged, dirty soldiers with leering stares and foul breath, playing rowdy games or chasing after whores.

  Instead, the halls were full of merry laughter, the servants were dressed in fine clothes, and any soldier who did pass them was bathed and groomed and offered a polite greeting. You could tell a lot about a man by his home. If she didn’t know Ethan MacGregor, she’d suspect he was civilized, respectable even.

  She couldn't argue the village was prospering under Ethan's rule. He took pride in having land that was well-tended and subjects who were loyal because they were provided for. The few times he had meted out justice it was harsh, but fair. However, that didn’t mean he was a man who could be trusted.

  The old man led her upstairs and into the west wing of the house and brought her to a stop in front of another set of heavy wooden doors. Her heart started racing when he reached out to open them.

  Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Ethan MacGregor, who was lounging on the biggest bed she’d ever seen, propped up on one of his elbows with his booted feet crossed at the ankles. A fire raged in the hearth beside the bed. His long, dark hair hung straight and loose around his shoulders and the neck of his shirt was hanging open, revealing a large, muscular chest spattered with a mass of dark curls. He sipped casually from a goblet of wine, staring at her over the rim.

  Kate had never admired how handsome this man was before. She’d hardly spared him a glance in the past. She didn’t need to attract the attentions of a bloodthirsty warlord. She tried to keep to herself whenever possible, which is why she wondered how she’d found the strength to commit to this... arrangement.

  “Please, come in,” Ethan said, not getting up from the bed.

  She took a few tentative steps into the room, growing nervous as she saw the way he was watching her, and jumping when the doors closed behind her.

  “You can still change your mind.” His deep voice was almost a growl.

  A wicked smile spread across his full, firm lips.

  Kate found herself momentarily distracted by thoughts of his lips close to hers. She flipped her eyes back to his dark gaze, trying to keep her composure amid the onslaught of steamy images flashing through her mind. “What makes you think I’d want to change my mind?” Her hands were shaking as he stayed focused on her. She clasped them behind her back. “Because you look nervous,” he mused. “Not that I mind.”

  “I have to trust you’ll keep your word if I do this.” Her voice wavered. It seemed her whole body was conspiring to betray her to this man. She didn't like people knowing if she was worried or afraid. She could usually put on a good act, appear calm and collected, under control, but it wasn't working for her tonight.

  “I have always kept my word.” He spoke with conviction.

  Strange, coming from a warlord. When you had the strength of an army, you didn’t have to keep your word. The sword was the only honesty these men lived by.

  “You look as if you don’t believe that,” he said, taking another sip from the goblet in his hand.

  “I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

  “Maybe spending the night with me will change that.”

  “I doubt it,” she scoffed. She was certain tolerating this man’s affections was only going to make her despise him more. If he truly were such a gentleman, he never would have accepted her offer. Never would have taken her sister in the first place.

  He rose up from the bed with a leonine grace, taking predatory strides towards her, his dark eyes fixed on her. Kate moved away from him until the backs of her legs brushed up against a chair. She watched helplessly as he stalked over to her. His large, strong frame towered over her, blocking the rest of the room from her view and making her feel much smaller than her five and a half feet. A tic worked in his jaw as he stared down at her.

  Now what was she supposed to do?

  He took a lock of her hair in his hand and ran his thumb over it. “I’m pleased you wore your hair down, as I requested.” Kate cast her eyes to the floor as she blushed. For some unknown reason she liked that he was pleased with her.

  “It was part of the arrangement,” was all she could say.

  “You have beautiful brown hair.” He lifted the lock to his nose, smelling it. “It compliments your green eyes perfectly. You should wear it like this more often.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. How did he know how she wore her hair? He’d only met her once, and just because her hair had been tied up into a bun then, it didn’t mean she always wore it that way. Except that she did. He couldn’t possibly know such a small detail; couldn’t know anything about her.

  His hand moved to the ties of her cape hanging at her neck. With a gentle tug he pulled them loose and the cape fell with a soft rustle into the chair behind her.

  "Such a lovely dress. It pleases me as well."

  When he ran one of his strong, warm fingers along the bare skin of her chest, sending a warm shiver through her, she panicked.

  “Where is my sister?” she demanded. “I need to know she’s unharmed before I do this.”

  “You don’t trust anyone, do you?” He flashed a taunting grin.

  “No,” she admitted. Especially not him.

  "Seems like a lonely way to go through life."

  "It's not lonely, just good sense. Am I supposed to believe you trust a lot of people?"

  "Only those who've earned it."

  “Then you'll understand when I say that you have not earned my trust.”

  “I'd like to change that." He studied her for a quiet moment before speaking again. "What if I told you that your dear sister is downstairs in my study, entertaining my cook and her son to a game of spades?” Kate felt a flip-flop in her stomach. She’d absolutely believe something like that. She’d taught Alison to play a ruthless game of spades.

  She still owed the girl half a pence from their last game.

  “Alison has been getting along with everyone here quite nicely,” he commented. “She's a lovely young lady.”


  Kate knew that. It was the only reason she was there, standing so close to a man like Ethan MacGregor. She would not let her sister be ruined by a warlord. She would see to it Alison got the life she deserved.

  The life Kate had never gotten for herself.

  “I want to see my sister first.”

  Ethan chuckled. “If it will set your mind to rest, then you shall see her.” He set his goblet on the table beside the chair, took her hand in his, and led her out of the room.

  His hand was rough, calloused, but so warm she didn’t mind. She could feel the power running through him; the strength and determination.

  All things required to build such a fearsome reputation. If he wanted to hurt her, she'd be helpless to stop him. Maybe this had been a stupid idea.

  The stupidest.

  He led her downstairs and through a maze of hallways, and she found herself becoming curious about him. His home was filled with fineries: tapestries, suits of armor, giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

  When he led her into his study, she marveled at the rows of bookcases.

  How she’d love to spend a week in this room.

  Alison was exactly where he said she’d be, sitting at a table with a plump older woman, who had to be the cook, and a good-looking young man, presumably the son, playing spades. When Alison threw down her hand and laughed, the young man bit out a curse, and Kate suspected her sister had just won the game. Again.

  “Kate!” Alison leapt out of her chair when she saw her and Ethan standing in the doorway. She rushed over and threw her arms wildly around Kate’s neck. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Are you all right?” Kate did a quick assessment of her sister’s appearance. The girl had never looked better. She was practically glowing.

  “Oh, yes,” she gushed. “Mr. MacGregor has been wonderful. This whole thing was a misunderstanding and he said I'm to go home with you tomorrow.”

  A misunderstanding? That was a nice way of putting it. It was very Ethan. And how in the hell did she know that?