RESCUED BY THE HIGHLANDER

by Preston, Rebecca

  But it wasn’t easing up at all — quite the opposite. The more she kissed him, the more she wanted, and soon enough kissing him wouldn’t do. It was good, of course, but she wanted more. Wanted his armor off, wanted his shirt off, wanted to run her hands across that unbelievable broad chest that she could feel through everything he was wearing. Wanted — really quite a lot of things. God, she’d been holding back on what she felt about this man. Just like her not to notice how much built-up lust and frustration she was dealing with until a swordfight shook it all loose.

  Because he was good, she had to admit that as she kissed him — he was an incredibly powerful fighter. She wasn’t bad, and he’d beaten her fair and square, jokes about her clothing impeding her aside. She was willing to admit that, to accept that loss fair and square… there was no room for ego when it came to being a warrior. She was going to work ten times as hard to best him, of course, that was a given. She’d spend the rest of her life training to defeat him, if that was what it took. But here and now, she’d been beaten fair and square. And it had been such a turn-on that she might literally die if she didn’t get more of his body right then and there, immediately.

  She could tell Donal felt the same — she could feel the appreciative way his hands were roaming across her body, feel the way his heart was pounding and his breath was coming ragged and hoarse in his throat, even more breathless than he’d been during their swordfight. Good, she thought, smugly — let him explore, let him feel her, let him want her. She knew how she was, physically. Five foot nothing, but her proportions were far from childish — her hips flared just-so, her chest was (though she hated the word) ample, and her life and her work meant she was in pretty excellent shape, if she did say so herself. No spare fat, no spare flesh — all hard, flat, taut muscle. Some men didn’t like it. Billy had always told her she was too skinny, she was boyish, she was like touching a man. It had been, she’d realized after a week of weeping and sleepless nights, more to do with his own insecurity about his body. His belly had been flabby and there was more to his spare tire than there needed to be. She’d done so much work trying to make him feel better about his body… even eased up on her workout regime for a few months, until it started affecting her work. What a terrible shit he’d been, she thought giddily, kissing Donal harder as if to banish the very memory of Billy’s touch from her body.

  Eventually, they broke apart, gasping for air — but only because a light rain had started falling again, startling them out of their passionate reverie. Donal was gazing at her, his eyes absolutely magnetic in the low light out here — but she couldn’t make out much of his face, what with the clouds having scudded over the gibbous moon and sky full of stars. That just wouldn’t do. She needed him to take her inside — and to a bed, ideally, a bed would be good. But that gave her pause, just for a moment. Would he think her immoral, a loose woman, if she bedded him so quickly? After all, they’d only known each other a few days… turbulent, passionate days though they’d been, she thought with a smile. But then he kissed her throat and she realized that she didn’t give a damn about being a loose woman. If a loose woman got her throat kissed like this against the wall of a castle, then a loose woman she was and would be.

  “We should go inside,” Donal murmured against her throat, and she shivered at the sound of his voice — it was like it had dropped a full octave out of desire, hoarse and rasping against her skin, sending electrical tingling up and down her spine. It took her a few seconds to even process that the words had meaning, not to mention what that meaning was, or how to respond to it.

  “Yes,” she managed after a herculean effort. “Inside.”

  “Come to my quarters?”

  “Yes,” she said again. Gently, he lifted her down, and she stumbled a little, unable to resist the urge to giggle dizzily. He steadied her with one arm, an amused rumble of laughter in his throat. As she took a step, her foot connected with her dropped sword. “Oh,” she said, picking it up out of habit. “Guess you disarmed me.”

  “Likewise,” Donal said softly, gesturing with his head toward where his own sword lay on the stones a few feet away.

  “Call it a tie, then?”

  “No way,” he said, his eyes flashing.

  She supposed she should’ve known better than to try to get away with that one, she thought with a bit of a grin twitching the corners of her mouth. Well, let him have his victory — so long as she got more of his body against hers, she’d agree to just about everything. Oh yes, Donal beat me in a swordfight then slayed ten wild dragons that flew in over the wall. Twenty, even, it was hard to tell amid all the fire. Wait a second. Dragons were probably real, at this rate. She probably shouldn’t think silly thoughts that may have the possibility to come true.

  Donal kissed her once more, bruising, absolutely obliterating her senses, and for a moment she forgot where they were going — then she broke away, aware that she was getting soaked to the skin. He laughed, and there was a reflection of her own giddy joy in that sound. It made her heart glow.

  “We have to get in before we both catch our deaths of cold,” she murmured, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his throat. “Then how will we defeat the witch-hunters?”

  He made a sound of protest — then turned away, grabbing her hand in his as he did and tugging her along with him. She ran along in his wake, feeling all of sixteen years old and light enough to float away on the cold night air. They moved through the foyer together, Donal shoving the huge doors open with one mighty stroke of his powerful arms, and if there were people in the foyer who spotted them, Anna didn’t notice. She only had eyes for the Laird, the unbelievable Laird who’d bested her (but only just) in a swordfight then set her whole body on fire with his kiss.

  Well, she was going to have to try to keep up her end of the exchange, that was all she knew for sure.

  So when they reached his floor of the castle, they were panting with more than the exertion of climbing the stairs at a ridiculous rate (it had been necessary, she felt, to make out against the castle’s inner walls for a few minutes, halfway up — like a breather.) He opened the door to his room and gestured her inside, turning to close the door behind them — and then she was on him again, trying to pin him to the wall with the force of her body, using her lower center of gravity to her advantage. He let her pin him, then laughed aloud as she unbuckled his armor, making short work of the buckles and straps.

  “Where’d you learn to do that, future-girl?” he whispered.

  “Woman,” she corrected him, eyes gleaming. “I’m full of surprises.”

  There he stood before her, the armor finally yanked away, his underclothes removed — shirtless, naked but for the clan-colored tartan kilt hiding his nether regions. She wasn’t quite that bold — not yet, at any rate — but she was certainly bold enough to hurl herself into his arms again, running her hands over his chiseled physique, resisting the urge to drag her tongue down his throat and across that unbelievably muscular body. No wonder he’d fought so well — he was a machine of a man. And she was going to make sure he used every single bit of his power tonight. Briefly, she wondered if he’d had plans after fighting her — would his advisors knock on the door halfway through, or worse, step straight in? The thought was worrisome — but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Let them walk in. Let them find their Laird, half-naked, in the arms of their strange guest from the future.

  “Your turn,” he murmured, yanking at the jacket she was wearing with barely disguised impatience, and she grinned, helping him undress her. It wasn’t until there was a loud clattering of iron on stone that she remembered her good friend — the iron dirk Brendan had given her. Donal looked down at it, then back up at her, a stern look on his face. She hesitated.

  “Were you worried I was an Unseelie Fae?” he enquired, tilting his head to the side with a grin fighting to break out over his handsome face.

  She exhaled with relief, then giggled a little. “Well, a girl can never b
e too careful. I heard the Laird of the Castle was a witch…”

  “Oh, aye, I heard that one, too,” Donal agreed, pulling more of her clothing from her body with a single-minded determination that made her catch her breath. “I heard he harbors strange women from foreign times, women who arrive absolutely desperate to fight him to prove themselves —”

  “— and I hear he gets his ass handed to him in the rematch,” she whispered into his ear as she pressed her naked torso against his.

  He laughed, a low, rumbling sound which shifted to a gasp as she raked a hand down his front to the waistband of his kilt — reached around it, searching for the buckle — then suddenly his arms were around her and they were flying through the air, it felt like, so quickly was he bearing her over to the bed. They hit the soft blankets hard, wrapped in one another, and before she knew it, he was all over her, on top of her, and in one lightning-fast moment that made her bite down hard on a scream of delight — he was inside her.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressed her head back against the bed, trying to urge more of him into her, deeper — he felt so unbelievably good that she thought she was going to wake the whole castle with her moans. Resisting the urge to laugh, she pressed a hand to her mouth — his gray eyes were inches away from hers, his breath hot on her face as they moved together, their bodies instinctively finding a rhythm that sent shocks of pleasure ricocheting through her with every thrust.

  Minutes passed — and Anna readied herself for the inevitability of the end of their lovemaking. After all, men rarely lasted more than a few minutes, and tended to be disinterested in continuing once they’d climaxed… right? At least, that had always been her experience. But Donal’s hands were still roaming across her body, his lips on her neck sending tingles of pleasure down her body to pool in her stomach — and then his breath was on her ear, hot and close.

  “I don’t intend to finish until you do,” he breathed.

  This was a new concept. She blinked up at him, surprised despite herself, a little unsure of what he meant. It felt like a lot of pressure, if she was honest. “I — I don’t usually — don’t worry about me,” she said quickly, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. “I’ve always been pretty hard to — you know, finish off.”

  “No such thing,” he said decisively — and then, to her immediate displeasure, he withdrew from her. She wasn’t left bereft for long, though — to her absolute shock, he kissed a trail down her body and buried his head between her legs. The things his tongue did reduced her to rubble in an instant — before she knew it she was clutching at his fine hair, fighting back the urge to scream, certain they were going to wake the entire castle — and when she felt, to her shock, an enormous build-up of energy in her belly, he slithered back up her body and pressed himself inside her again.

  This time, there was no question about it — she wrapped her legs around his waist again, buried her face in his neck. She could hear his breath coming hard, knew he was close — and to her shock, she was, too. Could it be possible? she wondered, dizzily. And then even that thought was lost to the howling ecstasy of her orgasm as they crashed over the edge together.

  Chapter 51

  Donal must have pulled the blankets over them both — Anna had no memory of making that particular adjustment to their sleeping arrangements. It felt like she’d been punched in the head — she was dizzy, almost incoherent, her entire body completely exhausted. Sated, is the word for it, she reflected muzzily, her head pillowed on Donal’s broad chest. His arm was around her as the sweat cooled on their bodies, and she moved in closer to him, nestling into the soft blankets. A better bed than the one in her chambers, she reflected. She supposed that made sense, him being the Laird of the castle and all.

  Then what did that make her? The Laird’s… lover? The Laird’s plaything? She was flying blind here — she had no idea how medieval Scottish people viewed casual sex, having usually restricted her interests to the military. But somehow — and she’d had this feeling ever since she’d arrived here — she trusted Donal. He cared for her, in his strange way. After all, he’d saved her life the first time he’d met her. And he’d saved her again, from the wolf, in his view at least — the fact that she hadn’t actually needed saving didn’t change the fact that he’d thrown himself bravely into harm’s way for her. And more to the point, he’d listened to what she had to say — he’d challenged his own preconceptions. He’d fought her fairly in combat — and he’d won, too, despite her best efforts. He’d earned at least a little of her trust.

  With these thoughts in mind, she drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep, probably the best she’d had at the castle. It felt like too soon that he was gently shaking her awake, and she protested at the light that hit her eyes. It was past dawn, Anna realized — she’d slept much later than she usually did. And Donal was half-clothed, clearly midway through dressing himself. She sat up, the night before coming back to her in a rush and reached one sleepy hand up to adjust her hair, blinking hard in the light.

  “You look gorgeous,” Donal murmured, gazing at her with admiration in his eyes. She looked down, almost embarrassed by his attention — and very pleased.

  “Prove it,” she suggested, tugging the blankets back to invite him back into the bed. He hesitated, a pained look on his face, and she laughed. “You have business to attend to, it seems?”

  “To hell with it. I’ll resign,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

  She laughed, fending him off. “There’s witch hunters about, you’ve got to deal with them,” she murmured.

  He groaned melodramatically, stomping over to his chest of drawers to continue dressing. “How do you know about that?”

  “Castle gossip. Everyone knows about everything around here,” she said primly, scanning the room for her own clothes. She didn’t especially want to get up, but she imagined he wouldn’t want to leave her alone in his room. But to her surprise, once he was dressed, he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead where she sat in bed.

  “Don’t get up,” he murmured. “I have to meet with my scouts, and I’ll be back right after. We can pick up where we left off last night.”

  “Well, if my Laird commands it,” she murmured, stretching her legs out and humming with pleasure at the soft, warm bed. Somehow, the idea of waiting here for him to return and ravish her was delightful. A pang of guilt at the notion that she was neglecting her kitchen duties… but after all, she had no formal duties assigned, did she? She was just helping out of the goodness of her heart. And the goodness of her heart had just about earned a day off, she reckoned.

  She drifted off into a pleasantly light doze as she waited, full of dreams of Donal… half drawn from recent memory, half very much fantastical, all extremely pleasurable. And by the time she heard the doorknob turning, she was more than ready for round two. She’d never climaxed with a partner like that before — she was very, very interested in repeating the experiment. At least a dozen times, she thought, for a start. It was important to be scientific.

  But Donal’s face was drawn when he entered the room, and she sat up, frowning a little, her thoughts of passion eclipsed by her concern for the way he looked. Had the scouts not had good news?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Scouts’ reports aren’t good,” he mumbled, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. “The witch hunters have an army. Sixty men, at least. Lead by a man called Galen. There’s a priest with them, too, which tells me they’ve the backing of the Church. This could be serious trouble.”

  Anna’s breath caught. But she knew a little something about witch-hunts, especially in this time of history. “They don’t — necessarily have the Church’s support,” she pointed out.

  He looked up at her, nonplussed. “How’s that? There’s a priest with them.”

  “How do you know he’s a priest? The costume’s easy enough to fake,” she pointed out. She had to be careful, here — she knew he hated to be told what to do, but at the same time,
she had a unique historical perspective here. She tried to speak as though she was thinking out loud, not giving him advice. “I’ve read about witch hunts. Some witch hunters were legitimate agents of the Church, yes… but there were a lot of opportunists, too. Men who’d hire mercenaries, do whatever they needed to do to seem legitimate, then set up a presence in villages, bullying everyone until they were bribed to leave. Or they’d just outright rob their coffers. It was quite a profitable business, witch-hunting.”

  “And if they’re not faking it?” Donal asked irritably — but he was listening to her, she could tell. She shrugged, not willing to risk the progress they’d made by offering even more advice. Time to back off a little, remind him that he was in charge… then maybe sneak in with a bit more tactical advice further down the line. Was this manipulative of her? A little, perhaps. But her gender put her at a disadvantage, here. Who could blame her for using a few tactical advantages?

  “I’m sure you’ll know what to do. Can the Fae help?”

  “They don’t tend to intervene when it comes to matters like this,” Donal said, shrugging. “Human problems are for us humans to sort out, as far as they’re concerned. I think they find it funny.”

  “Well, I’m glad our problems are amusing for them,” Anna said, rolling her eyes. “What about Maggie? Could she offer any advice?”

  “Aye, perhaps,” Donal said, but he still looked distracted. “She’s on their list, I’m afraid, I oughtn’t be seen consorting with her… in case…” He ran his hands through his hair, clearly irritated. “I don’t know.”

  “Listen, I might go down and grab some breakfast,” Anna said gently. He looked up at her, his pale eyes apologetic.

  “Sorry. I’m not the best company at the moment.”