The Blond Devil of the Sea: The Highland Ladies Book Three

by Barclay, Celeste

  Rowan was quick to release Caragh’s hands, but when he tried to pull back to release her legs, she growled once more, nipping at his neck as her fingers grasped his backside. She sunk her nails into the rock-hard flesh and held on. Rowan looked down at her and felt himself drowning in the depths of her eyes as she shook her head. She tried to once more to press their bodies together, but Rowan now had enough awareness to keep his weight from settling on her belly. Once Caragh was certain Rowan wouldn’t pull away, her hands roamed over his back and through his hair. Their kisses were tender compared to only moments ago.

  Eventually, Rowan slipped free and unbound Caragh’s ankles, massaging the blood back into her feet. She curled up as Rowan fetched a damp cloth before cleaning them both. Caragh scrambled off the bed and pressed Rowan back onto it. She sunk to her knees between his legs.

  “Thank you. We both know that may have hurt, but it’s never really a punishment. You do what you know will only make me want you more. You give me something, a kind of release, that no one else ever could, and that is why I willingly submit to you.” Caragh spoke their silent agreement for the first time as she stroked his cock back to life. “You did that for me. And now I want to do something for you.”

  She lowered her mouth, flicking her tongue across the head and swirling the tip of her tongue around the tip of his rod before taking him into her mouth. She angled her head so she took him all the way to the back of her throat while she rolled his bollocks in her hand. Rowan scooped her hair away from her face and off her damp nape. He groaned as her eyelids became heavy and drooped closed. She hummed as she continued to work his length. Rowan relinquished control and allowed her to offer her thanks rather than demanding his own satisfaction. He was certain he would have it, even if his hips didn’t thrust into her mouth. He discovered he was right only moments later when his seed jetted into her mouth, and Caragh swallowed over and over. She released his cock with a popping sound, and Rowan scooped her off the floor and laid her on the mattress. He covered them both before rolling them onto their sides, so they faced one another. He stroked Caragh’s shoulder, side, back, and bottom as her breathing slowed, and her eyes drooped once more. She lifted her leg over his hip and accomplished what no other woman ever had. He was hard once again, at least enough to slip inside her. He pulled her closer as her head settled against his shoulder as they fell asleep joined. A fantasy they had both shared that they wanted and often lived out. Later that night he fulfilled his other promise to her as he slid into her rosebud, her submission complete.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  With the morning light, the Lady Grace approached the MacNeil stronghold. Rowan stood on the deck, the wind blowing his long blond hair off his shoulders. Caragh stood tucked under his arm. The outline of the keep materialized against the horizon as the morning mist separated to make room for their ship to cut through the clouds. Rowan had already ordered his crew to drop anchor a safe distance away from the shore, refusing to risk an arrow attack that could endanger Caragh. As they moved closer to the headland cliffs where Kisimul sat, protected by the sea on three sides, a figure appeared on the battlements.

  Caragh gasped as she made out a woman with long blond hair whipping around in the wind. She glanced between the woman and Rowan; it was impossible not to recognize the similarity as they both ignored the strands that flew before their eyes.

  “Ma,” Rowan whispered at the haunting figure that he was sure was an apparition.

  “I see her, too,” Caragh murmured.

  As the bells rang and echoed through the fog, the figure disappeared, not vanishing like a ghost but dashing away.

  “She’s coming down from the wall walk. There are stairs next to where she stood,” Rowan explained.

  They caught the sound of the plunk of another anchor dropping and looked at the Lady Charity as it moored itself just off the Lady Grace’s stern. The cousins moved to speak to one another. Caragh and Senga staying in step with their husbands.

  “What do you make of your mother welcoming us? They must’ve recognized us before we could see them. I thought the mist would hide our approach better.” Ruairí called across in a low tone.

  “I wonder where your mother is. The earl’s marquee must be visible even from the distance. We certainly aren’t flying the MacNeil sail.”

  All four turned toward a disturbance that came from the sea gate that sat at the top of the cliff leading to the beach path. Two women fought against guards as they tried to run toward the path. The woman the cousins identified as Lady Laurel, Rowan’s mother, stopped fighting and appeared to be speaking. The guards immediately released both women, but surrounded them as they made their way down the path, bows at the ready. Even from a distance, Caragh could see how Rowan’s mother moved with grace. Rowan had accurately named his ship for the regal appearing woman.

  “Lower the dinghy,” Rowan and Ruairí seemed of one mind.

  “Will you still make me wait now that you can see your mother and aunt coming?” Caragh pointed beyond the women to a man running to catch up. “And I imagine that must be your Uncle Angus.”

  Rowan paused as he too caught sight of an older man who charged down toward the beach. He wasn’t sure of the welcome his uncle would offer. His mother and aunt were less likely to throw him and Ruairí into the dungeon. However, his decision was more easily made when the man waved both arms to hail the ships and waded into the surf.

  “Aye, I’ll take you, but only with Skinny and Keith in the boat, too. You remain a safe distance away until I’m positive we’re welcome. You’ll stay beyond the arrows’ reach.”

  Rowan assisted Caragh down the rope ladder. While she was still agile, her balance was more unpredictable as the rope and dinghy swayed. Once the shore party settled, with Rowan angled to block Caragh’s body, Skinny rowed them into the surf but dropped his oars a safe distance from the beach. Rowan hopped over the side, the water coming to mid-thigh. He waited as Ruairí’s dinghy carrying Senga and two of his men stopped alongside them. Both men drew daggers from their waist but kept them hidden under the water. They made their way to the sand, their approach slow and cautious.

  “Rowan!” The lady Caragh recognized from the battlements ran into the water, her skirts lifted to her knees, flinging off the arms of guards who once again tried to restrain her. Rowan hurried to reach his mother before she might fall into the crashing waves.

  “Ma,” he whispered once more as the woman fell into his arms, clinging to him as though he was the only thing that would keep her from floating away.

  “Rowan, I can’t believe it’s you. I never believed you were dead. I knew. I always knew.” Laurel sobbed against his chest. “I would’ve known if you were really gone. My sweet boy, you’re finally home.”

  Rowan buried his nose in his mother’s hair, the scent of rosemary rising to fill his senses. The scent of his childhood, the scent of safety and love for so many years. He felt the tremors run through his mother’s slight frame. Rowan didn’t remember her being so thin, almost fragile. He leaned away without letting go and saw the tears trailing down her cheeks, even though her smile could have lit half of the Hebridean sky on any night.

  “Are you really home?” Laurel’s voice caught on the word “home,” coming out a raspy whisper.

  “Are we welcome?” Rowan looked to Ruairí, who he strained to see within the embrace of his parents.

  “Does it look otherwise?”

  “You and Aunt Charity and Uncle Angus may be happy to have your children return, but will the rest of the clan feel the same?” Rowan’s skepticism rang with each word as he looked beyond his family to the guards who lined the beach and the crowd gathering at the top of the cliff. None of the clan members seemed hostile; most appeared to talk excitedly amongst themselves.

  “We’ve all waited for the day the two of you would return. Much has happened since you left, but we can explain that once we’re inside.”

  “Ma, I won’t come up to the keep unle
ss Uncle Angus can assure my wife’s and Ruairí’s wife’s safety. Neither of us will.”

  Laurel peered around Rowan, whose height blocked much of her view. Her eyes had only been for him as he waded ashore.

  “Your wife? You’re married? Ruairí, too?”

  “Aye, Ma. And I’ll not put Caragh at risk.”

  “Caragh? That’s pretty. She seems like a wee thing.”

  “She is, but don’t let that fool you. She has the heart of a pi--” Rowan trailed off as he snapped his mouth shut.

  “Does she know? I mean about what happened?”

  “Aye, she and Senga both do.”

  “Senga? Senga MacLeod?” Laurel pulled away further and looked over to the dinghy that carried Ruairí to the shore. “Good lord, it is her!”

  “Aye, Senga and Caragh filled us in on their families’ ties to ours.”

  “Ties? Caragh as in Catriona’s Caragh?”

  “It was fate, Ma.”

  “Bring the lasses ashore. They are safe. They’re family.”

  “So are we, Ma, but that doesn’t mean Ruairí and I or our wives are safe.”

  “I’ll make sure no one touches any of you or they’ll find themselves banished,” Angus boomed, his voice carrying up the cliff and across the waves. “Our lads have returned to our shores. They’re a sight for these sore auld eyes.”

  Rowan and Ruairí pulled away from their parents and stepped toward each other. They exchanged a glance that a lifetime of brotherhood made easy to interpret. They nodded, and each waded in as they signaled for their men to bring dinghies closer.

  “Skinny, bring this one ashore. Have Snake Eye take you and Keith back to the ship. Be prepared to sail at my first warning if we must make a dash.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Rowan caught the edge of the dinghy, knowing that the water was only shin deep. Caragh stood up, ready to hop over the side, but Rowan caught her and maneuvered her into the cradle of his arms. He carried her ashore, just as Ruairí did for Senga. Once they were on the beach, Senga and Caragh exchanged a glance before looking at Laurel.

  Caragh gasped, “I remember you.”

  “Hello, Caragh. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you or your ma.”

  “I remember you and the way you sang more than I remember being here. I remember the tales my mama told of you and Senga’s mama when you were all growing up.”

  “It’s just like seeing Catriona brought back my memories.” Rowan smiled.

  “You met Caty?” Laurel’s eyes widened as she looked at Caragh. “Do they not look more like sisters?”

  “They are two peas in a pod, only Catriona’s hair is so much darker.”

  “You mean flame red, while mine are carrots,” Caragh laughed.

  “Strawberries, mo Caragh.” Rowan kept his arm around her shoulders as he kissed her crown. When she turned to smile up at him, Laurel sucked in a loud breath. Rowan and Caragh followed her gaze as she looked at Caragh’s belly, which showed the bump when her cloak moved.

  “A bairn?” Laurel whispered. A moment later, she seemed to regain her senses and hugged Caragh before pulling her away from Rowan. She wrapped her own arm around Caragh and started walking toward the path. “We should get you out of the damp and get you a meal. I assume you haven’t broken your fast yet.”

  “We have, but I can always eat again. A little bread keeps me from getting too ill in the morning.”

  Rowan walked alongside Ruairí, Senga having been engulfed in Lady Charity’s embrace just as Caragh had been with Laurel. As they reached the sea gate, Angus wedged himself between the cousins and clapped a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “I don’t care if anyone questions your return, I want you here. The clan hasn’t been the same since you both left. Much has changed, including the council. You’ve been missed like a wound that has never healed.” Angus explained.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At the top of the cliff, a youthful man stood with two young women. Caragh realized they must have been Ruairí’s younger siblings. The young man looked like the missing triplet to Rowan and Ruairí. The two young women looked very much alike, but favored Ruairí’s mother with darker blond hair and green eyes.

  “Sinead? Saoirse? Rabbie?” Ruairí stood with his mouth agape as he took in the sight of his younger siblings, who’d been young children when he and Rowan ran away.

  “It’s Rab now, but aye, it’s me.” The younger man pulled Ruairí into a tight embrace that proved he was no longer a stripling boy, but a battle-tested warrior. Rowan received the next hug, and he was certain his back cracked in more than one place.

  “Ruairí!” His sisters launched themselves into his arms, a tangle of limbs and blond hair. As they pulled apart, two tear-stained faces looked at Rowan before throwing themselves into his embrace. Senga and Caragh came to stand next to one another as the reunion continued among siblings and cousins.

  “They all look so much alike. You would think Rowan was part of Charity and Angus’s brood,” Senga murmured.

  “You and I look just as much alike as the girls do their brothers and Rowan. We have the same face with different color hair and eyes.” Caragh pointed out.

  “That’s true,” Senga smiled as she looked at Caragh. “That must mean I’m beautiful.”

  The women laughed together until their husbands reached back and waved them forward.

  “I would like to introduce my wife, Caragh.”

  Caragh dipped into a curtsey before smiling at Rowan’s family. “I am excited to meet you all.”

  “She’s English!” One of Ruairí’s sisters exclaimed, even though Caragh wasn’t sure which one she was.

  Laurel stepped forward and smiled at her niece’s shock. “You’d be too young to remember, but Caragh’s mother was my best friend growing up. Her mother is Senga’s mother’s cousin. I grew up with her, too. When I came here, it was on the understanding that my best friend, Catriona, could visit. She came twice a year for many years and often brought her children. Caragh’s father is English, but her mother is like me, a MacLeod from Lewis.”

  Caragh watched the sisters with their wide eyes, but it was Rab’s wary stare that made her want to shuffle her feet. She wondered if the return of his brother and cousin threatened him. In theory, Rowan should have been laird now instead of Angus. But as Angus’s oldest son, Ruairí would stand at the head of the line to inherit. Rab went from being the heir to being second, if not third, in line.

  Rab spoke up to allay her fears. “It’s about bluidy time the two of you returned. I’m made for being a warrior, captain of the guard preferably, but I don’t want to be a laird. Too much aggravation.” His boyish face broke into a wide grin.

  There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief as they crossed another hurdle. Neither Rowan nor Ruairí expected to be named laird or heir, but at least it reassured them that there wouldn’t be jealousy or animosity from Rab.

  The crowd that gathered at the top of the cliffs buzzed and flowed into the bailey like a cluster of bees, making both Rowan and Ruairí more anxious than seeing their family for the first time in ten years had. Both men pulled their wives close to their sides. They had sheathed their dirks once they were sure of their warm welcome on the beach, but both men were certain they could reach their swords if they needed to protect their brides. Most of the faces were welcoming, but there were some filled with distrust, even a few with disgust.

  An enormous bear of a man stood with his arms crossed on the steps leading up to the keep. He glared at both Rowan and Ruairí and leered at Caragh and Senga. Both Rowan and Ruairí pressed their wives behind them and rested their hands on the hilts of their swords.

  “Do step aside, Timothy. Your snarling serves you no good and hasn’t for ten years,” Disdain filled Angus’s voice. His eyes flashed a warning that came from a deep-seated hatred for the man who had been his brother’s second-in-command and the main reason the cousins ran away.

  “You’
d let these traitors back into our midst? You should hang them from the gallows for their crimes, not welcome them like returning heroes. You know what they’ve done. They’re outlaws.”

  Angus stepped forward, but it was Laurel who spoke first.

  “You bluidy bastard. You’re the reason I haven’t seen my son in half a score. You’re the reason my life was empty and without purpose. You’ve caused more misery during your life than any sins my son could have committed. While I may not miss my husband, you’re the reason for his death.”

  Several people gasped as Laurel pushed past Angus. It had been years since anyone heard her speak with such authority. Her murderous glare had many stepping back.

  “Oh aye, I ken it was you who egged him on to travel while the weather was foul. It was you who encouraged him to taunt and humiliate Rowan when he was the voice of reason. I ken it was you who put the burr under the saddle that spooked my husband’s horse, pulling him to his death when he couldn’t calm the beast. I ken it was you who plotted against Rowan. And you, you slimy piece of shite, were the one who kept me from seeing Rowan the entire time you imprisoned him. You’re lucky I never gutted you in your sleep.”

  The crowd was silent. Not a word was whispered, and it seemed as the crowd took few breaths, while Laurel spoke. It was the most anyone had heard from her since the fateful event that kept her locked away in the prison of her mind.

  “Do you see where I stand?” Laurel gestured around the bailey and down to the steps. “Everyone kens this is the first time I’ve stepped outside the keep since Rowan left. My heart beat only because it had to, even though I’m certain you broke it. I have a reason to live a full life again rather than being trapped in Hell with my memories and my guilt. Try to take that away from me again, and I’ll see your head on a pike.”