by Lily Harlem
“Oh, oh, oh…” Her vision was foggy. She concentrated on his face.
“You watched me, like this, didn’t you,” he said. “When you held my cock, when you worked me to full hardness and then climax.”
“Aye, I did.”
His smile widened. “Is that a full admission?”
“Reid… oh, it’s been so long… I can’t.”
“You can’t hold off, don’t. I want you to release your pleasure into my hand. Now, do it now.”
She dug her fingers into his hard flesh.
“Come now and you may escape the spanking I was planning on giving you.” He wound her hair up into his fist, a tight ponytail.
Her scalp complained, her eyes rolled back in her head, and her lips parted. His hold on her, his command of her body was so possessive, and for the love of Jesus, he knew how to touch a woman.
“Keep looking at me,” he instructed. “I want to see into you.”
“It’s… oh…” She held her breath and basked in a moment of supreme bliss, it was better than anything she ever remembered. And then it over spilled. Ecstasy flooded her veins. Her cunny thudded around his fingers. Wonderful spasms of pleasure burst through her body.
She sank down onto him, filling herself with his fingers as her damp arousal seeped onto his palm.
I wish it was his glorious cock inside me.
He kept on going, feasting on her with his gaze, and his expression one of excitement.
“Reid. Oh, Reid.” She slid her palms down his chest and stared at where his hand disappeared beneath her dress. It was such an erotic sight, his biceps bulging, his forearm tense and twitching with effort, the material bunched halfway up them.
Finally he slowed, then stilled, his fingers lodged deep.
She dragged in air and leaned harder against the wall, needing its support.
“You just saved yourself from a spanking,” he said with a grin then brushed his lips over hers.
“You… you can’t spank me. You’re not my husband.”
“True, I’m not your husband. But isn’t it a man’s place to keep the woman in his life in line?”
She didn’t answer. It had been a rhetorical question. Moira was smart, she’d answered Angus back a few times and outwitted him on occasion with her fast tongue. It had sent her over his lap, or worse, earned her strikes with the birch.
“You’re quite beautiful when you orgasm,” he said gently.
She didn’t reply, she was still breathing heavily.
“And for the record, we’re even now. You’ve atoned for your brazen behaviour.”
Chapter Seven
Moira found the rest of the afternoon went by in a pleasant haze. Having Reid pleasure her had certainly lifted her mood and she found herself humming as she fed the chickens, then tended the goats.
Reid was fixing the plow. It had broken the month before, causing Moira a great deal of worry. It didn’t seem to be worrying Reid though, and he had a furnace lit and was hammering heated metal against an anvil. Though his arm was still bandaged, his wound didn’t appear to be hindering his progress.
She found herself staring at the archway less than usual. Out of habit, when in the courtyard, her gaze used to stray to it every ten minutes or so.
Having Reid with her, at Leannan Creag, made her feel not just safe but also more content.
Content?
Aye, she was. For the first time in a long time.
Pausing, she watched him working. His flesh sparkling under a sheen of sweat. His iron-hard muscles dancing and flexing beneath the surface of his skin. His kilt swayed as he moved, exposing flashes of his strong legs. He was truly beautiful.
Will he touch me again? Will he want more?
She reached for the broom and began to sweep. She always hoped she’d find someone else to share her life and bed with. Was Reid the one?
He’d told her he wasn’t married, never had been. But was there a special wee lass in his home village who had his heart? Did she pray each night for him to return? Perhaps he was a skirt-chasing, gallivanting cad and she had no way to know it.
A sharp needle of disappointment poked at her. She hoped none of her thoughts were true. Reid had quickly become special to her. How could he not? He was the only person in her life right now.
After she’d finished sweeping the yard, she scattered fresh bedding for the goats, then scrubbed out the pails.
The sun was high in the sky, heat beating down. She wiped her forearm over her brow, then went into the kitchen.
Remembering a cask of ale in the pantry, she poured two mugs full then went out into the courtyard again.
“Here.” She held one toward Reid. “I thought you’d like a wee drink.”
“Aye, you’re right.” He set down his hammer and grinned. “Thank ye.”
He took his drink and supped deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he’d drained his mug, he licked his lips. “That was good.”
She smiled, sipped her own, and let her attention stray over his body again. But when she spotted a streak of blood on his bandage, her heart lurched. “You’re bleeding. You’ve been doing too much.”
“Ah, it’s just a wee spot, nothing to concern yourself with.” He shrugged.
“Let me see.”
“Och, don’t fuss.”
“I’m not. It could be festering.” She set down her drink and stepped close. “Keep still.”
He didn’t argue and allowed her to unwind the cloth dressing she’d applied fresh the day before.
Much to her relief the wound didn’t show signs of worsening. The bleeding had been caused by two stitches coming loose, likely because he was no longer resting his arm but using it as normal.
“It’ll be right as rain morrow,” he said, frowning at it.
“I’m sure it will and the plow can wait until then. What is the point in aggravating it when it’s been healing so well.”
“I’ll just”
“Reid, please. I ken what I’m talking about.”
He opened his mouth then closed it again.
Good, he’s not going to argue.
“You’re hot,” he said, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. His big knuckles, dark with the dirty job he’d been doing, brushed her cheek. “You have red cheeks and sweat, here.” He ran the tip of his finger over her right temple.
“I should go and…” She gestured to the house.
“Angus wouldn’t have liked you red with labour, am I right?”
“Aye, if he were here I’d be inside, in the cool, stitching or painting.”
“Then that’s what you should do.”
“But Angus isn’t here.” She paused, the usual sadness filling her heart. “And you’re not my husband.”
“Perhaps I should be.”
“Reid!” She stared up at him. “What are you saying?”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Well, it would be more proper, me and you being here alone together.” He paused. “Touching each other.”
The clatter of hooves rang around the courtyard.
“What the?” Reid swivelled to the archway.
Moira also turned.
Bryce? Could it be?
She pressed her hand to her chest as hope filled her soul. But it wasn’t Bryce. It was the same two horses who’d been hurriedly removed the week before. And atop the first one sat Reid’s Jacobite friend.
“Kendal!” Reid scooted forward, tucking the bandage into place.
Kendal grinned, threw his leg over the horse’s neck then slipped to the ground facing forward. Within two big paces he’d reached Reid and pulled him into a tight hug. He slapped him on the back. “How are you? Better shape than the last I saw you.”
“Aye, thanks to Moira.” Reid returned the hug, then gestured to where she stood.
“Got a canny way with healing potions, has she?” Kendal let his gaze drift over her.
“And stitching, so it seems.” Reid pressed his hand
over his upper arm. “More or less.”
“Hey, that loose stitch is your fault.” Moira nodded at the anvil. “He’s been doing too much.”
“Better than nothing at all,” Kendal said. “Which was the state he was in when I brought him in. It’s good to see you awake.”
“Where’ve you been?” Reid asked. “Moira said you’d taken the horses, to avoid them leading Red Coats here.”
“Aye, I went up to Douglas’s Croft, about sixty miles west. No one about. I laid low with sheep for company.” Kendal nodded at the archway. “Avoided some Red Coats about ten miles from here though.”
“You did?” Reid frowned.
“Aye, but they were heading south. Hopefully they’ve given up looking for us.”
“Can I get you some ale?” Moira held up her mug.
“Aye, lass, I’m as dry as a dead goat’s ass. Ale would be good.”
She chuckled. It was an expression Bryce had used on occasion. “Come on in. There’s stables there for the horses, the troughs are full.”
Soon they were all seated around the sturdy oak table, mugs full of ale and the ham pie cut into pieces. Bread was cooking and the delicious scent filled the air.
In days gone by, Moira wouldn’t have dreamed of entertaining in the kitchen. But everything had changed. This was no longer a home full of plenty and tended to by servants.
“Food’s good,” Kendal said, helping himself to more pie.
“I’m glad you like it.” Moira smiled at him. When she’d seen him previously he’d been stained with Reid’s blood, his beard had been matted and forest debris had clung to his hair, his boots, and his clothing. He’d had a scared look in his dark eyes, too. The fear that he might lose his best friend had been very real.
And it had been a close call.
Now he was relaxed. His wide shoulders weren’t bunched up by his neck and his smiles came quickly as he relayed a tale about a traveling show in one of the villages a few months previously. A man dressed as a woman and singing had clearly amused him.
Reid chuckled and his attention landed on her.
She was aware of the appreciation in his eyes. There was a connection between them. Had he meant what he’d said about becoming her husband? Because she’d have him. He only needed to ask.
Really? This quickly?
Being lonely for so long had made her desperate, hadn’t it? No. Reid was a good man. He was one of them. A Scot with passion for the future of his country. He was brave, loyal, and his sexy smile could melt ice. And when he’d touched her… she’d thought she might melt too.
I don’t want him to go.
That thought hit her suddenly and she was aware of the smile slipping from her face.
A line appeared between his eyebrows. One she’d seen before when he was in pain or concerned. But he didn’t say anything. Kendal was still talking, laughing too.
Moira stood and refilled the mugs. She was aware of Reid’s gaze following her. It was like a heated caress on her ass.
If I became his wife he’d spank me.
Those big hands of his, work worn, strong, would deliver punishments if she stepped out of line. Angus had been firm but fair. Would Reid be the same?
She was sure he would. But a spanking from him would likely leave her smarting more than her dear departed husband’s hands had. Angus tired quickly, she’d found. Not that it hadn’t hurt; it had, especially if it had been the birch.
She set the replenished drinks on the table, her arm brushing Reid’s.
“So it’s quiet here, no sign of the Red Coats, or the one who got away?” Kendal was asking.
“Nothing, no one. We’ve had no visitors,” Reid said. “It truly is a sanctuary.” He paused and looked at her. “A little piece of heaven thanks to the kindness of Lady Campbell.”
“It was certainly fortuitous that we came across Leannan Creag.” Kendal took a deep drink.
“My husband had many friends who sympathized with the cause,” Moira said. “Perhaps you could use Leannan Creag as a base.”
Kendal rubbed his chin and studied her. “It’s an idea.”
“No.” Reid shook his head. “It’s too soon. The English are too close. I don’t want Moira put at risk.”
“Mmm, perhaps you’re right,” Kendal said. “Haps we should lay low for a while. Then have a scout around when you can ride again.”
“I can ride now,” Reid huffed. “I was practically born on a horse.”
“Aye, that’s true enough.” Kendal laughed. “Did you hear the story about his birth, Lady Campbell?”
“Moira, please.”
Kendal smiled and sat back, arms crossed. “Well, Moira, this man here gave his poor mother a right old time of it.”
“Moira doesn’t need to ken.” Reid chuckled.
“Sure she does.” Kendal grinned. “Been out in the fields she had, working, heavy with child, this one.” He pointed at Reid. “And carried on when the pains came. Anyway she left it so late she got the horse she had with her to carry her back to the village. No sooner had she slithered off the horse, her bairn popped out.”
“Aye, born on a horse, that’s me.” Reid winked at Moira.
She smiled. “You can’t have been there, Kendal. You look the same age.”
“Aye, we are, a few months apart. We met in our teens, been as close as brothers ever since.”
“That’s nice. To feel like that.”
“Aye, it is.” Kendal nodded, his face turning serious. “Do anything for the man at this table, share anything I had with him, too.”
“Ahh, don’t get wet.” Reid laughed.
“Well, it don’t do a fella no good to see his best friend not just hacked by an Englishman’s sword but shot too.”
“T’won’t happen again.” Reid rubbed the side of his head. The scab had just about gone.
“Too damn right it won’t.”
“So what will you do now?” Moira asked, though she feared the answer.
“Like I said, we’ll lay low here for a while to let Reid get his strength back.” Kendal nodded at the window. Dusk was now approaching. They’d been talking and drinking for a long time. “Then I’m hoping McTavish will ride through.”
“Trevor McTavish?” Moira knew the name well.
“Aye, that’s him.” Kendal smiled at her. It was the first really warm smile he’d sent in her direction and it created a small spark of pleasure inside her chest.
“I remember him. He’s been here.” She’d been proud of her husband’s efforts and commitment to seeing the real king on the throne. The fact that Trevor McTavish had been to Leannan Creag—not only been but also stayed—proved beyond doubt where her loyalty lay.
“You’re a canny lass, you ken that,” Reid said, leaning forward and reaching for her hand. “But you have to be careful.”
She didn’t reply as he wound his fingers with hers.
“No one with a sane head,” Reid went on, “would admit to Trevor McTavish being their guest unless they were sure they were among fellow Jacobites. He has a price on his head, you ken.”
“I think you’ve both proven you’re on the same side as me.” She tilted her chin.
“Aye, we are.” Kendal stood and set his hand on her shoulder. “And do not doubt that we’ll do everything in our power to repay your kindness.”
It was strange to have them both touching her after so long without a man in her life. Even though there was nothing sexual about it, a thrum of longing tugged at her cunny and she pressed her legs together.
“It’s getting late and I’ve had a long day in the saddle.” Kendal stretched his arms above his head. He linked his fingers, arched his back and groaned. His tunic rose from his kilt, flashing a strip of lean abdomen coated in dark wiry hair.
“I… er… there’s a bed made up in the room to the left of the staircase,” she managed, as thoughts of having him, Kendal, naked and unconscious, the way she’d had Reid besieged her.
She tore her gaz
e from him and found Reid staring at her.
The smile tugging his lips made her wonder if he was a mind reader.
Chapter Eight
Kendal woke to the sound of a cockerel. It wasn’t unusual for that to be the case; in fact it had been the way he’d been risen most of his childhood.
He poked his feet from the sheets. It was warm and he suspected it was going to be another unusually warm day in the Highlands. But that was good for the plants, and it was time to make hay. He was sure Moira could do with help in her fields. Her livestock would need fodder for the winter months, which were always harsh.
He rose, dressed in his kilt and a vest, which had been freshly washed by his hostess—God bless her—and made his way down the stairs.
Just before he entered the kitchen he paused. Reid was already in there, with Moira. Something about the low murmur of their voices told him it was a private moment.
“I’m not sure how I did it,” Reid said.
“Did what?” Moira replied, her tone breathy and hushed.
“Didn’t cross the hallway and join you in your bed. It’s getting harder to do each night.”
There was a long pause.
“Then maybe you should stop resisting,” she said.
Kendal raised his eyebrows and pressed his back against the wall. It seemed his friend was having trouble keeping his hands off the sexy widow they’d found themselves lodging with.
I can’t blame him.
For a moment he wished he’d been the one to get injured. Perhaps then he’d be whispering into Moira’s ear about how he wanted to join her in the dark of the night and explore the depths of her.
Crazy thought.
He shook his head and took a step forward. But still he hesitated. If Reid had found someone then he should be happy… shouldn’t he?
Yes. Of course.
But where did that leave him?
Not wanting the answer to that question, he pulled in a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
Reid had his arms around Moira’s waist and was smiling down at her. She had her palms set on his bare chest and was looking up at him with undisguised adoration.