But there was more to this man and this moment. She was certain. Call it her intuition that never failed. As much as Ursula wanted to gaze into a future, she could not. Right now, she wanted to look at him, not his thoughts.
No matter his scar, or his clan, she welcomed him to her body. He stroked her hair as he lay on his side. Words were not necessary now, for they had already decided why they would come together. ’Twas not for love, or lust. Well, perhaps a little lust. But for mutual respect and a commitment to a legacy. An heir.
Ursula had bristled at the suggestion at first, but now she was warming to the noble idea of being a part of his future.
Her rambling thoughts finally stopped when his hand slid under her skirt and he began to caress her between the thighs, making her lose her mind. But when his two fingers glided into her channel with a rotating motion, she lost control.
“You do nae need to pleasure me to bury your seed. Be on with it,” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to sound ungrateful.
“That is the most unromantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Alasdair said with a chuckle, still continuing with his method, not slowing or stopping.
She laughed along with him. “Aye, but you have to admit my words speak to your request.”
“I want an heir?”
She nodded and smiled. A bit of the tension broke, but she was in need of some relief.
“No matter the goal, my wish is to make you feel as desired and special as possible,” Alasdair promised. But then he interrupted his gentle, lascivious attention and moved his hand away from her heat.
“You have too many clothes on,” he declared as if she had asked his opinion, but she agreed.
Rising to the side of the bed, Alasdair guided Ursula to stand before him, his chest at her eye level, muscles rippling with every breath.
Had the antidote she’d taken strengthened the potion’s power instead of weakened it? And if she felt the pull of the spell, Alasdair would be even more under its influence.
Even though counterfeit love could not be trusted, Ursula did not care, because it felt so sinfully good.
A man as delectably desirable as Alasdair MacLeod would no doubt test the sensual boundaries of the most prudent woman. His gaze alone made Ursula feel she could burst into flames if he stared at her long enough.
But he did more than stare. With one swift movement, he tore apart her traveling dress from the neckline down to her toes as if swatting away a flimsy spider’s web.
Standing before him in the warm glow of the hearth, her breath hitched when his gaze raked over her naked form as if he was seeing it for the first time. And before she had time to exhale, his lips began an exploratory assault.
With lavish kisses, he meandered his way from one ear, dragging his lips along her neckline, and then down to the middle of her breasts. A torturously slow, delicious seduction.
Deliberately holding her gaze, he sucked on one of her taught nipples, while he rubbed the other until it stood at attention. Her carnal reaction to this simple act made her want him more than ever. Without the need for commitment or promised marriage, Ursula felt free to satiate her desires in a wanton way.
If temptation had a name, it would be Alasdair MacLeod.
Ursula wanted to beg. To have him inside her. But she bit her tongue hard to keep from speaking the words. Fortunately, he stopped the gentle torture.
“As much as I adore worshiping you as you stand before me like the queen of the Fae, not of this world but of magic and myth, I must admit I do nae have the patience I’d hoped for.” He gazed at her with a mix of passion and compassion. “Are you a virgin?”
When she denied it with a headshake, he responded with a wicked grin. And before she could blink or take in another shaky breath, she was cradled in his arms and laid back on the chamber bed.
Ursula heard his boots tumble to the floor, but before she could worry about what was coming next, Alasdair was on the bed pushing her legs open.
And with one quick movement, his shaft was inside her, pumping the full length of her channel. She met him stroke for stoke, and they joined together as one, her body trembling from Alasdair’s salacious movements.
This was what she’d wanted. What had been told to her by generations of women could be had, like a rare diamond, not discovered by many. And as much as being worshiped at the beginning was lovely, this manic, wicked lovemaking was what she craved.
Alasdair made no apologies for his shift from seducer to lover. And Ursula responded with wanton gasps and sighs and panting.
When she could bear the intensity of his movements no longer she said, “Please, I beg you, let it be done.” And with one final effort, they rose to the highest heights and then, as if falling off a cliff, dropped back to earth with Alasdair collapsing gently on top of her.
The seed was planted.
Once their labored breaths subsided to sighs and soft moans, Alasdair gave her a big smack on the lips before he dropped to her side and draped a warm arm over her middle.
“My brother once described the act of mating as a chore,” Alasdair admitted. “’Tis a pity he never experienced anything as heavenly as I have with you tonight.”
Ursula beamed inside and out. Alasdair’s compliment would have been the last thing she’d have expected to hear when they’d first discussed their business arrangement. Then, she had expected to be fulfilling a duty. Instead, he had worshiped her like a goddess.
Chapter 26
Conn’s men met Alasdair in the lower baily just as the glorious sun rose over the Highland Mountains, signaling a promising day of travel. Alasdair took it as a good omen for the future as he prepared his horse and secured the saddle with the help of a stable boy.
He didn’t look up when a rider approached. But when gravel and dust hit his face, that changed.
“Och! What bastard dares this?” he asked, standing to his full height, finding Ethan waiting for him with a smirk on his face.
“Remember this, bastard?”
He wasn’t sure whether Ethan was referring to himself or calling Alasdair one, but he would clarify. “Any man who is nae of full Scottish blood is a bastard,” Alasdair stated plainly.
Ethan did not bat an eye when he withdrew his longsword from its scabbard.
Alasdair let a beat go by before handing the reins to the stable boy. Then he asked Ethan, “What are we fighting over?”
“That should be obvious.”
Alasdair shook his head and began to move to his right as Conn’s men stopped what they’d been doing and gathered to watch.
As Ethan started circling in the opposite direction, Alasdair withdrew his sword, ready to defend himself. Clearly Ethan wanted to fight. And Alasdair did not have to wait long.
The intention was in Ethan’s eyes before his limbs. With a slight rise in his sword, Ethan lunged toward Alasdair.
But Alasdair was ready and leapt out of the way.
Ethan almost stumbled when he’d rushed at Alasdair with such force, expecting to connect with his sword. But the bastard gained his footing quickly and spun around, sputtering under his breath.
“Are you fighting for England? For I am fighting for Scotland.”
Ethan spat. “You should be fighting for your life.”
“What quarrel do you have with me?” Alasdair asked, circling to his right. Letting Ethan be the aggressor, he’d fend off the poor louse until it was time to depart or someone called the farce off.
“You covet my wife.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I do nae know your wife.”
Ethan made another lunge forward, clanging with a mighty force into Alasdair’s blade. Even though his back had been injured in battle, he overcame his pain when he fought.
Alasdair parried to the right. Then left. R
ight again. He exchanged multiple clashes with Ethan’s sword as the two used their skills and muscle to deflect their weapons.
Soon Ethan was wielding his sword with both hands. The longsword was a mighty weapon, but a weighty one.
With an exaggerated shout, Ethan charged. He missed Alasdair’s blade, swiping at air instead. That brought Ethan to his knees.
Alasdair strode forward and pointed his sword under the perpetrator’s chin. “Had enough?”
Ethan spit on the sword.
“I shall take that as a yes. Sheath your weapon. You can join us or stay behind and wait for the House of Gordon’s drunken contingent to lead you to Eilean Donan.”
Ethan stayed on his knees, staring down at Alasdair’s sword. Not until he heard Ursula’s shout did the imbecile scramble to his feet as Conn’s men went back to the business of readying their horses.
Ursula’s hair whipped around in the wind. Her eyes were filled with concern. After Ethan sheathed his sword, Alasdair followed suit.
“We were having a discussion,” Alasdair offered.
“A difference of opinion,” Ethan added.
Conn strode up to join them. “A battle to the death?”
That made them all laugh, even Ethan.
But then Conn added, “All battles are fought over women or land. Which was it today?”
Ethan’s responded by turning his back and walking toward the stables.
Alasdair shrugged his shoulders, and Conn burst out laughing.
Ursula blushed, either from the realization of why they were fighting or because it was the first time their eyes met since last night.
“How fares my lady?” Conn asked.
His lady? Those words punched him in the gut. Frantically his mind whirled over what Conn had said last night. Had he committed a crime of passion? Conn had told him at dinner Ursula was his lady friend. What had he said? You cannot feast on everything that is at my table? How could he be such a fool?
Alasdair turned to face his friend, interrupting their conversation. “Conn . . .” Then he glanced at Ursula and grabbed her hand, bringing her to his side before he confessed, “We are now one.”
Conn’s eyes ticked back and forth between them a few times before they settled on Alasdair.
His friend’s face was stoic. Unsympathetic. Perhaps even verging on anger.
Alasdair braced for a thrashing of words or fists, but at the moment he thought Conn would strike him, his host reached for Alasdair’s hand instead and said with a warm smile, “She’s yours.”
Ursula huffed. “As if I can be bartered.”
“I’m your father of the heart and with that responsibility comes the opportunity to give you away.”
She rolled her eyes.
Alasdair let out all the air he was holding and bent over at the waist with a sigh of relief.
When he raised back up, his friend’s eyes were full of mischief. “Let’s just say I was protecting Ursula until she could see what was right.”
She looked back and forth between them with some alarm. “You may not marry me off now, Conn.” She looked at Alasdair. “We have an arrangement, and that is all you need to know.”
Conn grinned. “Name the date and the town, and I will be there for your nuptials.”
Ursula let out an even bigger huff and crossed her arms over her chest, mumbling something under her breath.
Alasdair had been single-minded last night. At least he hadn’t breached a friendship. Not once had what Conn said at dinner registered. Not until now. He thanked the Lord he did not have to choose between them, nor fight for her and lose a good friend.
Which reminded him of the battle he’d just had with Ethan. He was silent as Conn and Ursula continued their verbal sparring, giving Alasdair a moment to consider his options.
Should he refuse Ethan passage with their contingent and leave him to his own devices, which could include traveling to Donan with Gordon’s men? Or should he ask the man for a truce until they arrive in Kyle of Lochalsh, when they could all know for certain what they were facing?
If Ursula held no loyalty to the bastard, they could bypass the MacDonald stronghold and head directly to Dunvegan. He’d been gone too long from his home and needed to make sure what was his remained so.
By the time Alasdair had made up his mind, he’d arrived at the stable entry to retrieve his horse, just as Ethan and the boy appeared at the entrance.
Alasdair waved the half-Englishman over while the lad tended to Alasdair’s horse and tightened the saddle.
When Ethan was within earshot, Alasdair called out, “A truce.”
Meeting him halfway, Alasdair stuck out his hand, “I propose a truce during our trip to Donan. I will honor my original pledge and guide you, Ursula, and Conn’s men through the Highlands to your castle. Conn’s men have agreed to protect us and stay loyal until I release them. You can either accept that or make it on your own with Gordon’s men.”
Ethan studied him for a moment. No doubt sizing him up and his options. But Alasdair did not take Ethan for a fool. He was sure the man would have a counter.
Finally, after staring at Alasdair’s outstretched hand for a few moments, Ethan said, “This is not your quarrel or your quest. You are inconsequential. You are not needed.”
Ethan came a few steps closer. “She’s mine. Do not defy me.”
Alasdair dropped his hand by his side. He thought about what Ethan had said for a moment. The stakes were complicated. He needed to see to Ursula’s safety. And as soon as Ethan became entangled with the MacDonalds, the bastard would nae be able to honor his promise to help Ursula find the Skye flower. Now it was Alasdair’s turn to counter.
“You take Conn’s men and Ursula to Donan. And I will make my way there with Gordon’s contingent. We will meet at the ridge overlooking the castle. ’Twill be two days journey at most.” He paused. “Then the lady will choose.”
“Aye.” Ethan nodded. “We shall let the lady choose.”
Chapter 27
Ursula was confused. One moment she was readying her horse to leave with Alasdair for Eilean Donan Castle, and the next he was promising to meet her there with Gordon’s men instead. He mumbled something about once they arrived at Eilean Donan, she would choose.
Choose what? Choose to rid herself of men who were fighting over her? Choose to take Conn’s men to the faerie pools on Skye and have them escort her back to Rosalyn without delay? Choose what was right for herself? Aye, that was what she’d prefer.
As she mounted her palfrey to follow Ethan and Conn’s men out the portcullis gate, she considered her priorities.
There was no need to dally at Donan. That was Ethan’s quest. And if she could rid herself of him there, she would and make her way with Conn’s men and the map Quinn gave her to the faerie pools. Ursula was weary of drugging Ethan and listening to his matrimony claims.
The Faery Flag and Alasdair were other matters. Once one goal was accomplished, she would tackle the other. Sadly, she’d thought both the flag and the flower could be had at the pools. If what Alasdair had said was true, did he have the flag at Dunvegan, and was it now hers?
After their lovemaking, neither had spoken of the promise again. Would proof of an heir be required before she could collect her prize?
It would be a strange twist of fate for Ursula to return to Fyvie bearing Alasdair’s child. He seemed a man of his word, and she hoped he would help her honor the promises she’d made to both Rosalyn and Lachlan before she settled on where she would call home.
Home. That had been many places for Ursula, but eventually, the contingent would come close to her Highland home. It had been ten summers. Would her people remember her? Who would be there? Would her sister still be alive? Ever since she’d become a royal court healer, she’d left
her past where it should be—in the past.
She shuddered for a moment, and her horse must have felt it, too, for Tempest slowed and tossed her mane. Her horse was not from these parts, but horses were sensitive creatures.
Ursula was thankful to be left to herself as the hours wore on and the day waned. Ethan led the troop and conferred with Conn’s men as they traveled. But they finally stopped as nightfall approached. With her childhood home only a few miles ahead, she had an idea she hoped Ethan would consider.
“Are we close to Shiel Bridge?” she asked as he tethered his warhorse to a tree, knowing full well they were, but wanting to make Ethan feel important.
“Aye, we are near, but that is not on our itinerary.”
Ursula frowned. “You can nae be thinking of camping outdoors,” she said, already feeling the bite of wind as the sun was setting.
He studied her carefully as if he was calculating her response to his initial plans. But because he was still hesitating, she made her case even stronger. “The laird of Spurr Fhuaran manor is an uncle of mine. I am certain we’d have comfortable lodging for the night.”
When Ethan opened his mouth to reply, she added, “And I know ’tis only a four-hour ride from Shiel Bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh.”
He huffed out a breath, but she kept going, “Shiel Bridge is protected by Clan Fraser. I used to make the trip to Skye with my mother when I was a wee child.”
A bit of emotion caught in her throat. Remembering the trips to Skye with her mother brought back a flood of memories.
Ethan’s expression turned sympathetic, giving her the resolve to push a little harder. “Consider this. By midday, you could be the new laird of Eilean Donan. Would you not want to look rested and well-groomed to meet your clan?”
The Secret of Skye Isle Page 18