Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  “Please.” She breathed against his lips.

  Calum responded to her plea, pulling out and slowing easing back inside, filling her completely to the hilt. A slow burn sparked low in her belly, the odd feeling of her husband moving inside her nearly more than she could bear. Moaning, she closed her eyes.

  He slid his arm beneath her head and nipped at her ear. “Look at me, Sweetness. I want to see you.”

  She struggled to keep her eyes opened as he set a rhythm with his movements. Each deep stroke increased the ache in her sex. Her body reacted of its own accord, awkwardly moving against him. With each hard thrust of his hips, he groaned against her mouth as she clung to him.

  Scoring his back with her nails, she shifted her thighs to accept each stroke. As he ground himself against the taut bundle of nerves at her core, pressure built in her core and hummed through her body. When he quickened his pace and his thrusts became more urgent, thoughts flew from her mind. Close to the edge, she focused on her husband’s handsome, strained face and yielded to desire.

  Just as quickly, the tension low in her belly snapped and she shattered in his arms, crying her pleasure against his neck. Passion consumed her, plunging her into a sea of bliss. She was vaguely aware of her husband’s shout beside her ear. Clinging to him, she rubbed his back as shudders racked his frame.

  Once her breathing returned to normal, Arabella opened her eyes and met Calum’s worried gaze.

  The back of his finger brushed over her cheek. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his concern. Tugging his head closer, she placed a gentle kiss upon his mouth. She smiled against his lips. “’Twas perfect. You were perfect, Calum.”

  His brows eased and his lips split with a playful grin. “Do you think we’ll suit, Lady MacGregor?”

  She laughed. “Aye, Laird MacGregor. I believe we just might.”

  “Might?” Chuckling, Calum kissed along her jaw. “Mayhap, we should try again, just to be sure.”

  *

  Aaron shot a quick glance over his shoulder, certain no one lingered in the passageway. He crept through the dimly-lit walkway toward the servants’ entrance and kitchens. Peals of laughter rang out from the great hall as the wedding feast continued on well after MacGregor retired with his bride, but damned if he could take part in the revelry.

  Not with Mairi twirling the night away in other men’s arms. And more importantly, not with Connor’s fate looming over his head.

  Christ, he must’ve cursed Longford a thousand times throughout the day. He was no closer to figuring out how and when to grab the woman than he was the day before. Unease pressed in around him, gripping his chest in a constraining vise. What the devil was he to do?

  He turned the corner to the kitchens and stilled. Shadows played over the wall, signaling someone’s approach. Sucking in a breath, he retreated to the dim passageway, slipping in a dark recess between a tapestry and the wall. He pressed his back against the chilled stone, hoping it might cool his heated body.

  As soon as a pair of chattering maids swept past carrying trays up the servants’ stairs, he released the breath he held.

  Saints, this would get him nowhere but caught at the rate he was going.

  Frustrated, he slapped the tapestry aside and stepped out into the passageway. What he needed was a bit of solitude, away from the clamor in the hall and away from Finn’s frigid stare. Perhaps then he might clear his head and devise an actual plan that wouldn’t end with his brother’s blood on his hands.

  Headed for the herb garden, he rounded the corner to the kitchens. A soft body bumped into his and he cursed his rotten luck.

  “Aaron?” Mairi’s startled gaze met his.

  Of course, she would be the one to discover him. “Aye, my lady.”

  “I did not see you in the hall.” Her ebony brows pulled with a frown. “What are you doing out here?”

  Sifting his mind for an excuse, he chose to feed her half-truths. “I desired a bit of privacy. I thought I might slip through the kitchens and pay a visit to your herb garden.”

  Her pale blue gaze narrowed. “More solitude, my lord? Have you not enjoyed the feast?”

  “Nay,” he admitted. In fact, ’twas the truth.

  “Why?” Concern creased her comely features. “Is something amiss?”

  “Nay, ’tis just that I…” Again with another half-truth. “Seeing you dance with those other men, I’ll admit I was jealous. I wished to dance with you.”

  Surprise flared in her wide eyes and an appealing blush bloomed on her cheeks. She pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Naught would please me more than to dance with you, my lord.” A slow smile formed on her full lips. She lifted her hand to him. “Will you join me in the hall?”

  Grateful for the reprieve, he affixed a charming smile and accepted her smaller hand. “It would be an honor, my lady.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As darkness faded and sunlight drenched the chamber in light, Calum laid awake with Arabella sprawled over his chest. He tightened his grasp on the precious bundle in his arms and placed a kiss atop his wife’s tousled curls.

  His wife.

  Throughout the eve, he roused often to ensure she was not a mere figment of his imagination. His poor, weary lass had slept through the night tucked tight against his side, snoring loud enough to wake his long-dead clansmen buried beyond the kirk where they’d wed. Though, he cared not. ’Twas a small burden to bear in exchange for spending the rest of his days with his lady wife.

  Christ, he’d never felt the grip of passion as he had in Arabella’s arms. As soon as she’d touched him, his control abandoned him. He’d utterly lost himself inside the silken heat of her body. His manhood stirred at the thought.

  Her soft skin brushed his as she roused from her slumber. Her leg moved over his hip and his hardened length nudged at her inner thigh. Smooth fingertips traced the wound on his chest, while she pressed gentle kisses along the damaged flesh. She raised her head and gave him a sleepy smile. He nearly spent himself, then and there.

  “Good morning, my lord husband.”

  “Good morning, my lady wife.” He stroked his fingers back and forth over the smooth curve of her spine. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Aye.” She yawned. “And what of you?”

  “Aye, even with all your blasted snoring.”

  Propping herself upright, she gasped in outrage and poked him hard in the chest. “I do not snore!”

  “Oh, Sweetness.” Hauling her closer, he made a point to drag the soft curls shielding her sex over his length. He pulled her mouth to his. “I find your snores enchanting.”

  Calum captured her lips in a passionate kiss, drinking in her sweetness. She shifted to straddle his hips as their tongues entwined. Too soon, she placed her hands on his chest and sat upright.

  She tartly insisted, “I do not snore.”

  His guffaw boomed through the chamber. She seized upon his distraction and tickled his sides. Unprepared for her attack, he released a squeal, surprising the both of them. She tossed her head back and laughter bubbled out of her.

  ’Twas his turn to seize upon her distraction. Gripping her wrists in his hands, he tumbled them around on the bed until she lay on her back beneath him. He settled in the cradle of her thighs, lining his staff at her heated center. Rising over her, he eyed the plump mounds of her breasts as her chest rose and fell from their labors. He lifted his hand to caress the soft flesh, rolling a tight peak between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes darkened with desire, and her lips parted with a sigh.

  “Calum.”

  Needing no further encouragement, he dipped his head to latch on to her breast, catching the hard tip with his teeth. She grabbed his forearms, sinking her nails in, and moaned in pleasure. With each hard pull of his mouth, she writhed beneath him. Her damp core brushed his staff, and he bit back a groan.

  Calum released her breast and kissed a path to
her belly. Eager to learn every inch of his new wife, he pressed kisses down her abdomen until he reached the soft curls shielding her femininity. Grasping her hips, he nudged her legs wider and lowered his head between her thighs. The heady scent of her arousal filled his nose, sending a rush of blood straight to his aching length. He swept his tongue over the tiny bud and she bolted upright.

  “Calum, wha—”

  “Shh.” With a hand on her belly, he guided her back down. “Lie back and rest easy, Sweetness. Let me have a bit of fun.”

  Studying him warily, she sank onto the bed and grabbed a handful of furs.

  Ignoring his throbbing member, he dropped his head and parted the folds of her sex with his tongue. He laved at the tender flesh, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Gripping her backside in his palms, he pulled her closer and licked at her hot center. He speared his tongue in her entrance, wringing a strangled moan from her.

  Calum growled in approval and captured the taut bud, sucking at her sensitive core. Thighs trembling, she fisted the hair atop his head and moved against his mouth. With a final sweep of his tongue, he lifted his head and slid his gaze up her body to her face.

  Cheeks flushed and eyes bright with desire, Arabella was utterly breathtaking. And more important, his. Suddenly, the sweet torture was more than he could bear. He had to be inside her.

  Shifting upright, he settled between her thighs and rubbed the tip of his member along her damp folds. As soon as she lifted her hips to accept him, he thrust inside with one swift motion. Their moans filled the quiet, sun-drenched chamber.

  Her tight sheath surrounded his length in a fiery embrace, and he nearly spent his seed too soon. Dropping onto his forearms, he seized her lips, delving his tongue deep in her mouth. He set a relentless pace with his strokes, each slide driving him deeper into the haven of her body.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Wife,” he commanded in a rough whisper.

  Arabella complied, digging her heels into his backside. Her nails raked down his sides, inflaming his passion and hurtling him closer to release. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he increased the force of his thrusts. Stark need to possess her—mind, body, and soul—drove him onward.

  Soon, his control splintered and he moved with uneven strokes. He ground himself against the swollen core at her center, pushing her closer to the peak. Her fingers dug into his flesh and her sex tightened around his length as she shouted his name in his ear.

  Tingles raced up his spine and the tension in his body snapped, sending him over the edge. With one last, hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. A ragged groan tore from his throat as he spent his seed deep in his wife.

  The fierceness of the release robbed the air from his lungs. Void of strength, he collapsed on his forearms and dropped his head in the cradle of Arabella’s neck. She rubbed a soothing hand over his back as his body shook. Fearing he might crush her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Boneless and replete, he lifted a trembling hand to brush his fingers over her bare skin.

  “Rest for a bit, Sweetness. I’ll have a bath drawn for us and food brought up soon.”

  Half-asleep, she kissed his jaw and cuddled against his overheated frame.

  She expelled a contented sigh. “I love you.”

  Calum’s heart lodged in his throat and his hand stilled. The three faint words rang in his ear, over and over. The declaration caught him off guard and stunned him to his very core. For an instant, he contemplated shaking her awake and demanding she repeat the simple phrase.

  Happiness surged through his weak limbs and a wide grin stretched across his lips. He wrapped his arms around his wife and rested his cheek against her forehead. Thoughts of their future swam in his mind, and his heart drummed in anticipation. A lifetime of his lady wife, children, her love—what more could he ask for?

  Once her snores ruffled the hair on his chest, he placed a lingering kiss on her temple.

  “I love you, too, Lady MacGregor.”

  *

  Aaron MacRae closed his eyes and soaked up the early morning sunlight as he sat in the MacGregors’ herb garden. The bright rays warmed his skin against the cold wind. Too bad the heat could not thaw the chill in his blood. Once he completed the deed Longford assigned him, he suspected the chill would remain the rest of his short life.

  What a wretched cur he was, betraying Mairi with his false charm. He played the part of an honorable man last eve at the wedding feast, stealing every moment he could with her, when he should’ve simply walked away. Instead, the two of them had danced throughout the night. Even now, he imagined the feel of her lithe form in his arms as he spun them around the hall. Her sparkling eyes and the kindness of her smile lingered in his mind.

  Mairi was light in a world full of darkness, and he’d deceived her.

  He slammed his fist down on the hard bench, welcoming the frigid bite of stone to his knuckles. He’d tried to put off the foul deed, but to no avail. Finn had approached him that morn, reminding Aaron his actions would decide Connor’s fate.

  Christ, he’d failed Connor so much in their lives, not protecting him from their father, and now Longford. This time, he vowed not to forsake his brother at all costs. What other option did he have?

  ’Twas either MacGregor’s wife or his brother.

  A shadow fell over him, blocking the sun’s warmth. He opened his eyes and waited for his vision to adjust. Mairi’s smiling face swam into his sight, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

  “Enjoying my garden again, my lord?” Her lilting voice prickled the hair at his nape. “You’ve risen early this morn. I imagined you might sleep late after last eve.”

  Aaron rose to his feet and stepped aside, waving at the free bench. “Nay, my lady. I fear I tend to rise with the dawn. And it would seem I’m intruding in your garden once again.” He offered her a bow. “Forgive me.”

  “I’ve already explained you’re more than welcome here.” She boldly grasped his hand and settled on the bench. “Please, join me.”

  For a flicker of a moment, he debated shaking off her grip and acting the villain he truly was, but he relented with a forced smile. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Once he seated himself beside her, she released his hand and folded hers in her lap. She glanced at him. “Do you suppose we qualify as friends now?”

  Unsure of her meaning, he warily met her playful gaze. “Aye, I suppose so.”

  She leaned close and the corners of her eyes creased with humor. “Then, please, call me Mairi and I shall call you Aaron.”

  He could not help but grin at her catching smile. “As you wish…Mairi.”

  Winking, she moved away to rest her back against the stone wall. “Tell me, do you have such a garden at your home?”

  He shook his head. “Regrettably, I cannot say the MacRae holding boasts any such splendor.”

  “’Tis a pity.” She tsked. “Surely, you could plan one of your own if you enjoy the view so much.”

  “I confess I lack the fortitude and patience to maintain a garden of my own.”

  “Mayhap…” She bit her plump bottom lip. “Your wife might plant one for you?”

  Aaron grinned at the barely veiled question. “Then, I would need to find a wife in that case.”

  “Oh.” A delightful blush stained her cheeks. “I doubt you will have any difficulty, my lord.”

  His pulse quickened as he studied her comely features. He longed to stroke his fingers over her smooth skin. “And what of you? Will you plant one for your husband?”

  The smile that overwhelmed him wavered and her brows pulled together. “Should I find a man deserving of such a gift, then perhaps I shall.” She blinked away the trace of melancholy and glanced at the garden. “I do not know much of the MacRaes. Tell me of your home. Is it very far?”

  In another life, one where he was not a villain, he would see that she plant a garden for him, and him alone. To keep from reaching for her, he moved his hands beneath his thighs.

&n
bsp; “The MacRae holding is further north along the coast.” He shrugged. “’Tis not much different than the MacGregor holding, aside from the sea.”

  The less said the better by his estimation.

  Mairi clapped her hands together. “The sea, truly? Oh, I’d hoped to see it for myself one day. The waves crashing over the shore. An expanse of blue that stretches to the sky. It must be a magnificent sight.”

  Fleetingly lost, Aaron peered at her flushed cheeks and bright gaze. The same sea she spoke of, he easily saw in her clear, blue eyes.

  “Magnificent, indeed,” he murmured.

  “What did you think of the wedding?”

  The question pulled him from his thoughts. He shared a smile with her. “’Tis plain to see your brother is taken with his bride.”

  Mairi laughed. “Aye, he is and he deserves it. My brother has not had an easy life. Nor has Arabella for that matter. She lost her brother not a month ago.”

  “Oh?” he prompted.

  “’Tis truly a sordid affair. This man, Longford, murdered her brother and held her captive with the thought of forcing her to wed him. Were it not for Calum, I shudder to think what her fate might’ve been.”

  The air whooshed out of Aaron’s lungs in a rush, and his stomach plummeted to his feet. By the blood of Christ, he should tell her now. Tell her of Longford, Finn, and the foul deed he must commit to ensure Connor lived. The words hung on the tip of his tongue but, damn it, he could not tell her. She’d run straight to her brother if he did.

  No matter if Macgregor, Fraser, and every clan chieftain in the Highlands joined Aaron’s effort and waged an attack on Longford, the English arse would kill Connor out of spite as soon as they stepped foot onto MacRae land.

  Nay, he could not tell her.

  Aaron abruptly rose from the bench, desperate to distance himself from her. He glanced over his shoulder to her crumpled face and felt a swift bite of guilt. He itched to smooth away the wrinkle of her brow, but ’twas folly to touch her.