Seduction of a Highland Warrior (Highland Warriors Book 4)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  They were alone.

  Thick mist blowing past the opening did the rest, sealing them away from the outside world. Torchlight slanted in through a crack in the rock ceiling, casting a sheen on Marjory’s hair. Each strand shimmered as if dusted with diamonds. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her cloak had opened, offering glimpses of her pearly skin, stirring images of even more bared flesh. Her nakedness pressed hard against his own, their bodies entwined.

  Alasdair drew a tight breath, his pulse racing. Just looking at her made him forget every reason he shouldn’t desire her. Masculine awareness thrummed the entire length of him, warning that even if he did remember, he no longer cared.

  The time for restraint had passed.

  “This was no’ wise, sweeting.” He moved closer to her, slowly shaking his head, his gaze steady on hers. “I warned you. Now it’s too late.” He placed his hands on the rock wall behind her and leaned in, trapping her within his arms. “I’ve run dry of warnings.”

  “Perhaps I do not need them?” She straightened to her full height, squaring her shoulders so that her breasts were displayed to advantage.

  She also let her gaze glide from his face down over his plaid-draped chest and then to where his sword belt was slung low around his hips. It was a deliberate assessing that only fired his blood, stirring very wicked thoughts and causing his loins to throb.

  As every time their paths crossed, her hair tumbled in fetching disarray to her waist. Her gown hugged the curve of her hips and her nipples were chill-tightened. They pressed against her bodice, an unbearable enticement. Her luscious, parted lips only served to remind him how thoroughly kissable she was.

  Alasdair bit back a groan.

  She remained perfectly still, almost daring him to admire her.

  She tilted her head, her blue gaze seemingly innocent. “I wished only to speak with you.”

  “A man could think you wished to seduce him.” Alasdair gave her a slow smile, knew heat burned in his gaze. The blazing passion she ignited in him, unleashed. “Is that it, Norn? Did you drag me in here with seduction in mind?”

  Her eyes widened, and even in the dimness, he could tell her cheeks colored. But she kept her chin raised. She also didn’t deny the suggestion.

  She glanced at the billowing mist, then at him. “I know you didn’t come here just to question Kendrew about black-painted longships. Everyone knows we aren’t a seafaring clan. You had another reason.

  “I’d like to hear it.” She stepped closer, her breasts brushing his chest, the intimate touch making him want her desperately.

  Before he could answer, there was a rustling at the hem of her skirts. A low grrr as her little dog, Hercules, crept from behind her skirts. A tiny beast with four white legs and a brown saddle and face, Hercules had floppy ears and seemed to enjoy barring his teeth. Yet despite his grumbles, he wagged his tail.

  “Hercules.” Alasdair looked down at him, glad for the distraction.

  He did love dogs.

  And he’d never met one who didn’t take to him. He also wouldn’t mind keeping this one occupied. Dogs were known to be protective and Hercules clearly loved his mistress. Alasdair was also fond of her. And just now, he didn’t need interference from her four-legged companion.

  Clearly of a different mind, Hercules lifted a lip and growled again.

  * * *

  “See here, laddie.” Alasdair dipped into his leather belt pouch for a suitably small twist of dried meat. “I have something for you.” Producing the treat, he reached down, extending the tidbit from his fingers.

  “You shouldn’t feed him.” Marjory gripped his wrist, stopping him. “He-”

  “He’s a fine wee lad.” Alasdair shook free, eyeing the dog.

  “He is himself.” Marjory frowned at her pet. “He just isn’t used to those he doesn’t know.”

  Alasdair tried to waylay her fears. “He has no reason to fear me. I love dogs and they aye know it.”

  Hercules took two steps toward him, indicating that was so. Marjory stood still as a pillar, watching him. She’d raised a hand to her lips, uncomfortable. Alasdair dropped to one knee, hoping to ease her mind as he again offered Hercules the twist of dried meat.

  The dog came closer, pausing a few feet from Alasdair. Hercules kept his gaze on the treat, his expression intent. His tail wagged slowly.

  Alasdair smiled, triumphant.

  “Hercules!” Marjory cried out the instant Hercules shot forward, ignoring the treat to make a sailing leap for Alasdair’s ankle.

  The bite was swift. It stung more than hurt. And it did draw blood.

  “Oh, no!” Marjory lunged for Hercules, but her fingers closed on air as he bolted away to dash in a circle around the little room.

  “It’s nothing,” Alasdair lied, feeling as if someone was jabbing his lower leg with a fistful of fiery, razor-sharp needles.

  Worse, Hercules streaked around Alasdair’s still-kneeling form and attacked his other ankle. And this time he wasn’t snapping.

  The dog’s cocked leg warned of a more devious intent.

  “Whoa, laddie!” Alasdair shot to his feet, colliding with Marjory as she dashed forward to grab Hercules. But instead of capturing her pet, her arms slid around Alasdair. They knocked together, Hercules flitting away with the twist of beef that had fallen from Alasdair’s fingers.

  Alasdair gripped Marjory’s waist, steadying her. “Are you hurt?”

  “No…” She glanced down, her eyes widening at the blood on his ankle. “But Hercules bit you.”

  “He was playing.” Alasdair excused the wee beastie. “It’s a scratch, no more.”

  Marjory didn’t look convinced. “You are generous.”

  “Sweet lass, you dinnae want to know what I am.” His gaze slid downward, to her breasts. Lush and ripe, her silken curves promised forbidden delights. Desire speared him, buzzing in his head, roaring through his veins. “Nor should you learn what you do to me.”

  She eyed him up and down, lifted her hands to cup his face. “And if I say otherwise?”

  “You’d be asking for trouble.” Alasdair already had his own with all thought of duty, honor, and loyalty vanquished by her sparkling blue eyes and the way her shining hair spilled about her shoulders. How her tightly cut bodice shaped her breasts, wicked and scintillating. Sensual, womanly heat poured off her, rousing him so thoroughly even his conscience fled. “A man is only so strong, lass.”

  She leaned in closer. “Is that why you’re here? To prove your strength, to-”

  “You heard why I came.” Alasdair could hardly breathe, his heart thudding. Then she blinked and her eyes reminded him of his other reason.

  He’d almost forgotten.

  “There was another reason, aye.” He stepped back and reached inside his plaid, retrieving a golden ring. He held it out to her, its sapphire glittering in the dimness. “I believe this is yours?”

  “My ring…” Her brows lifted and she took the ring, closing her fingers around it, pressing it to her heart. “It was my grandmother’s and her grandmother’s before her. A family treasure.

  “Where did you find it?” Her voice was thick, her fingers shaking as she slipped on the ring. “I lost it the day of the harvest fair.” She looked up, seeming nervous. “How did you-”

  “I took it from the man who had it.” A muscle twitched in his jaw as he remembered. He burned to question her – he’d seen the Viking Groat leave the joy women’s encampment - but her face had softened and when she turned her huge blue eyes on him he couldn’t upset her. Seeing her so vulnerable did worse things to him than his desire for her. His chest tightened and a fierce wave of protectiveness swept him. A strange, unsettling ache he wasn’t about to consider too deeply.

  Whatever it was pained his heart.

  And that bode ill.

  “He was a wayfarer.” He gave her the closest answer he dared to truth: that he’d tracked the man after he’d left her that day at the harvest fair. “A Norseman. I found hi
m by a burn, admiring the ring. When I recognized it as yours, I questioned him.

  “He claimed he found the ring in the wood, near the tents of the joy women.” Alasdair didn’t say they’d fought. That a slice of the Viking’s ear had repaid him for taking what wasn’t his. Alasdair didn’t believe the man’s tale, suspected he possessed nimble fingers, for all his brute size. That he’d bumped against Marjory at the fair, slipping the ring from her finger, her unaware.

  “I don’t know where I lost it.” She looked down, rubbed her thumb over the ring. Then somehow her hands were on his shoulders. “Now, having you return it, the ring will mean even more to me.”

  “Norn…” He tensed when she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him. She held tight and he swept his own hands around and down her back, gripping her hips, pulling her closer.

  He couldn’t stop himself. She felt so soft and warm against him that he couldn’t release her. The silk of her hair teased his chin, almost maddening him. She smelled of spring meadows, the scent going straight to his head. Clean, light, and thoroughly feminine, the fragrance beguiled him as no other woman’s scent had ever done.

  He tried not to breathe and failed miserably.

  She curled her fingers into his plaid, her touch only worsening the heat coursing through him. His desire flared, swift and demanding. He kissed her hair, then her temple, his lips skimming her cheek. Her mouth beckoned, urging him on with a fierceness he couldn’t deny. Not now, with her so soft and pliant in his arms. He took one of her hands, pressing her fingers to his lips.

  “Have a care with the ring, then.” He kissed the bauble’s stone, lightly nipped her fingers. “One should ne’er be parted with something so valuable.”

  Would she know he meant more?

  That it would break him to walk away from her? That he no longer believed he could?

  Touching her – letting her touch him – had been a mistake. They’d crossed a threshold and the rapid beating of his heart warned there’d be no going back. So he turned her hand over, kissing her palm and then lighting kisses across the soft skin of her wrist.

  Tasting her, losing himself.

  Outside the little room, the wind rose, blowing curtains of mist past the entrance. Chill air swept inside, intensifying the smell of cold, wet stone.

  Somewhere within the dark, weathered rocks, water dripped.

  Alasdair scarce noticed.

  His world slammed to a halt, contracting to hold only Marjory’s intense blue gaze, the soft, warm press of her breasts against his chest. Above all, he relished the taste of her skin on the back of his tongue. An intimacy that had him setting as hard as granite.

  He wanted more, needed all of her.

  His entire body heated, his pulse drumming in his ears. Tendrils of mist swirled into the room, curling across the floor and sliding up the walls so that the air shimmered around them, taking on a strange ethereal quality. Awareness flashed through him, igniting his senses. Every inch of him wakened, coming alive as never before.

  She shone here, in the tiny stone-walled room, her light brighter than the stars. The mist’s luminosity paled before her. And he was drawn to more than her body’s curves and the glow of her eyes, the temptations hidden beneath her gown. Her heart and soul called to him, stripping away his resistance, branding him as her own. She intrigued, enchanted, and delighted him, as if the day’s sun fell on her alone.

  He admired her pride and spirit, her deep love of the wild, rugged territory she called home.

  Her passion…

  He started to speak, to tell her they must leave here, but she touched her hands to his lips, stopping him. “The love of a man and woman is worth more than any gold.” She rested her hand against his cheek, her touch so warm. “True loss is to have one’s desire so near and yet-”

  “Damnation, Norn. Dinnae speak so.” He splayed his hands over her hips, pulling her closer until she couldn’t doubt what she did to him. “You will bring me to my knees.”

  “I will do what I must.” She held his gaze. “And not of whit of it is damning. To me, this is a wonder.”

  She leaned up on her toes, nipped his lower lip, and then kissed him lightly.

  “Nae, it is madness.” Alasdair knew that well. He also went rigid, sensation racing over his skin, heating his blood, making him want to devour her.

  She shook her head. “Madness is to deny one’s heart. The pity is when we turn from what could be, refusing pleasures offered. The comfort of shared bliss, even stolen-”

  “Say no more, lest you push me too far.” He already verged on his limits. She moved against him, tantalizing him, hurtling him into a fire he couldn’t begin to douse. Flames already scorched him.

  He frowned, certain she knew.

  The gods help him, but he could live a thousand years and he’d still desire only her.

  Was this what love did to man? Could his feelings for her be more than mere lust?

  Deep inside, he knew that was so.

  She was watching him closely. She didn’t blink, only looked at him with her remarkable blue eyes, breaking his heart and stealing his soul.

  He silently cursed her brother, damned his entire rash, hot-headed clan.

  He railed at himself more. He’d lost the battle allowing her to drag him into such a close, hidden space. It would’ve been so easy to shake off her grip, continue down the stair, putting her from his mind.

  He bit back a harsh laugh.

  Truth was he’d follow to her the ends of the earth. To hell and back, even the Norsemen’s dread Niflheim. He’d leapt at the chance to enter this hidey hole with her.

  Now that they were here…

  He brushed the hair back from her face, the strands so smooth beneath his fingers. He let his gaze sweep over her, hungrily.

  Her blood-red cloak had fallen completely open and her breasts touched his chest. Her nipples were hard, twin crested peaks that thrust against him, taunting and tormenting. Equally bad, her skirts clung to her, revealing the shapeliness of her thighs and hinting at the sweetness of her, the lush femininity he ached to explore.

  More than that, he wanted to claim her.

  Sweep her into his arms, lower her to the bare stone floor, and then push deep inside her, sink into her hot, silken heat.

  “We should leave now.” His voice was strained, proving he didn’t want to go anywhere. Yet he had to give her this chance, needed surety before…

  He drew a sharp breath. “It may already be too late.”

  He knew it was.

  She smiled, looking almost victorious.

  “I know you want me.” She reached to stroke his face, then stepped back, letting her cloak slide from her shoulders. It pooled around her ankles, a sea of deep, shimmering red. “I’ve known your kiss and can see your desire. Truth is” – her gaze dipped to his groin – “I have felt it.”

  He couldn’t deny it, his arousal more than apparent.

  “Walk away if I’m mistaken.” She untied her bodice laces so that her gown slithered down her body, joining her cloak on the cold stone floor.

  She stood before him near naked, her undershift clinging to her curves. The wispy material was thin and almost translucent, revealing far more than it hid, as if crafted by a fiendish hand. Someone who understood a man’s desires and wished to exploit them.

  Alasdair set his jaw, hoping he didn’t begin to sweat.

  Marjory’s eyes smoldered, an unspoken challenge.

  “Damn you…” He stared at her, his heart hammering. “Have mercy, lass. Cover yourself.”

  She didn’t move. “So I did err?”

  “Nae.” He pulled her to him then, drawing her hard against his chest as he slashed his mouth over hers, kissing her with a ferocity that astounded him. He gripped the back of her neck, thrusting his fingers into her hair, holding her in place as he plundered her lips. He swept his other arm around her, locking them together.

  She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, ru
nning her hands up and down his back as she parted her lips beneath his onslaught, returning his kiss with equal fervor. She even angled her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss, welcoming the glide of his tongue against hers, the sweet intimacy of the warm breath they shared.

  “Norn…” His voice was deep, ragged. “I didn’t want this.”

  But he couldn’t stop, knew he could never get enough of her. He brought his hand down over the wisp of cloth covering her curves, his pulse racing at the feel of her soft feminine warmth. She took his breath, maddening him so that all he knew was that he had to possess her, make her his.

  They kissed hungrily, their bodies sealed together, their hands sliding everywhere, claiming and exploring, the world around them forgotten.

  Need and want crashed through Alasdair, the pleasure like a flood tide. He pressed his knee between her thighs, nearly spilling when she gasped and rubbed against his leg, her passion as great as his own.

  “Oh, dear…” She shivered when he tore his lips from hers to kiss his way down her neck and then on to her breasts. He closed his mouth over one taut crest, savoring, licking her flesh.

  “I have wanted you, Norn, have aye burned for you.” His voice was ragged, his breath hard and fast. “I would make you mine, here, now.”

  Somewhere in the distance thunder rolled, loud and booming.

  Alasdair paid no heed.

  Nought and its soaring Mackintosh peaks and the whole of the world, could crumble to dust. He wouldn’t care. Nothing mattered except claiming Marjory’s lips again, kissing her hard and furiously. He tightened an arm around her, crushing her to him as he ran his hand over her breasts, letting his fingers brush her soft, warm skin. She melted against him, supple and intoxicating. Need for her flared, hot and demanding. His manhood throbbed, rigid and aching.

  Thunder cracked again, the cold wind howling.

  Alasdair ignored the storm’s wrath.

  Marjory swayed against him. “I knew it would be this way between us.” Her voice was husky, her eyes dark with passion. She twined her fingers in his hair, broke their kiss to press her head against his chest as if to hear the fierce beating of his heart. “I-”