Seduction of a Highland Warrior (Highland Warriors Book 4)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Before she could answer, he crossed the cave to slip a lit candle into another of the wall brackets. The flickering light drew attention to his sure, confident stride, his powerful build. His rich auburn hair gleamed, the ends just brushing his broad, plaid-draped shoulders. He wore his sword belt slung low on his hips, the amber pommel stone bright in the cave’s dimness. Marjory waited as he lit and placed other candles, awareness of him and how alone they were, prickling her skin. Rarely had he looked more striking. And never before had he been so bold with her, his every word and glance making her hot inside, letting her believe…

  Could he indeed care for her?

  She straightened, clasping her hands before her. She didn’t want him to see that her breath had grown ragged, her pulse racing with hope.

  “Our men have aye kept watch for MacDonalds.” It was all she could think to say.

  “And your women?” His voice deepened, spooling through her like heady wine. “What do they think of Blackshore men?”

  “They’ve reviled them, for centuries.”

  “And you?”

  “I…” She couldn’t speak. He was coming toward her, the intense look on his face making the secret place between her thighs tingle. Her entire body prickled and her breasts felt heavy, achy. She’d almost believe she’d caught a fever.

  “So you cannae tell me?” He stopped before her, lifted a length of her hair, fingering the strands. “A pity that, for I’m of a mind to hear what you think of me, Norn. I know your good-sister, Isobel, is attempting to throw us together.” His smile flashed. “She didn’t fall from Ewan’s horse. She slid off deliberately, claiming an injury so I’d ride away with you.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” Marjory knew she had.

  “You’re no’ a good liar.” He dropped her hair, angling his head as he looked at her, his gaze searing. “There’ll be a reason she went to such trouble to trick me. I’d know what it is?”

  Marjory lifted her chin. “Is that why you were so angry on the journey? You believed we-”

  “So you knew she was pretending?”

  “I guessed.” Heat scored her cheeks on the admission. “She meant well. And she was clearly misguided in thinking-”

  “That I’d enjoy carrying you away, having you alone?” He let his fingertips glide over her cheek. “I’d say she was clever.”

  “Perhaps.” Marjory stood taller, refused to squirm.

  His words fired her blood, encouraging her. His nearness made her daring. “It could be she feels a match between us might work well for the weal of the glen.” That was as close as she’d go to revealing the pact she’d made with Isobel and Alasdair’s sister, Catriona. “After all, Isobel is now wed to Kendrew and Catriona married James, the Cameron chieftain. It could be she believes-”

  “She should know better.” His face hardened. “Kendrew is a scoundrel. He’s wild and crazed, totally unpredictable. He’s much too thrawn, the most stubborn man I know. Any match between you and me would end bloody.” He touched her again, caressing her cheek, fingering her hair. “Your brother and I would fight and one of us would die. Or he’d provoke me in other ways, calling down the King’s wrath o’er the broken truce.

  “Blackshore would be seized, my people exiled to the Isle of Lewis.” He looked at her, his expression fierce. “Kendrew would greet such a tragedy. Indeed, I believe he plots one.”

  “And I am his sister.” Marjory held his gaze. “He does love me. I return that love with the whole of my heart.” She wouldn’t lie. “He has his faults, but we all do. He is a good man.”

  Alasdair’s jaw clenched and he looked aside, his gaze on a nearby pile of bear- and wolfskins.

  Marjory stood her ground. “You didn’t say why you were so wroth during our ride.” Her heart raced, her need for surety a throbbing ache in her chest. “Is my name the reason? Were you angered because I am your enemy’s sister?”

  “I wasn’t angry, leastways no’ with you.” He shoved a hand through his hair, whirled to face her. “Sweet lass” – he gripped her waist, his gaze sweeping over her – “I was furious at your savage, wind-ridden home. Your precious Nought and its comfortless, stone-clogged bounds, so wild and barren-”

  “I don’t understand.” She didn’t. “You’re not making sense. Nought-”

  “Nought was thwarting me with every rocky mile we thundered across.”

  “The land?”

  “Aye, every stony inch of it.” He circled his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. “I was sure I’d once seen a shepherd’s hut near the birchwood, yet there was none. The farther we rode, no others appeared, only more rock and your damnable rapids.”

  “If you hadn’t ridden into the Thunder Vale, we’d have come to a shelter.” She could hardly speak. She was too aware of her disarray. Her damp and clinging gown, her hair tumbling loose, and – she took a breath - the wild desire beating inside her. She’d felt the hard slabs of his muscled chest and abdomen on their ride. She’d rested her head against the proud strength of his broad shoulders. Now she wanted to see and touch those wonders, run her hands over him.

  Enjoy his kisses again, lose herself in the passion...

  “I saw no other resting place. For sure, I was looking!”

  “We have refuge now.” She glanced at the mound of furs, half wondering if the gods of seduction caused the cave’s shafts of moon- and starlight to spill across them.

  Almost, she could believe it.

  She was also melting. Pure, feminine need gathered inside her, chasing all thought except the irresistible urge to lean even closer against him. His arms were already like iron bands around her, crushing her to him. And – sweet, purple heather – she was acutely aware of the hard, thick length of his arousal pressing against her belly.

  There could be no mistaking his desire.

  And she wanted him badly, consequences be damned.

  She drew a long breath, knowing something momentous would happen as soon as she took her gaze from the pile of bear-and wolfskins.

  “Were you concerned I’d catch a fever from the storm?” She kept her attention on the furs, so near, so beckoning. “Is that why you sought a shelter?”

  “You know why.” He gripped her face with both hands, holding her fast as he kissed her roughly, his mouth plundering hers.

  She clung to him, thrusting her fingers into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers in long, sinuous sweeps. She trembled, her entire body aflame, the most delicious heat spreading through her. On and on he kissed her, each bold swirl of his tongue against hers sending sweet molten fire rippling through her, circling across her most intimate place. Her need, all her female desires exalted, reveling in the delicious tingles, the exquisite throbbing, so urgent and intense.

  “Now do you see? How it is with me?” Alasdair broke the kiss, jerking away from her. He cupped her chin, staring down at her. “What you do to me? What you’ve aye done to me?”

  Releasing her, he shook his head. “I told you once no’ to push me, to ne’er tempt me again. I tried to leave be, did my damndest to forget you, even stayed away for a year. And ne’er in all that time, did I even look at another woman. It was you I wanted, Norn. It’s only ever been you.”

  “Oh!” Marjory pressed a hand to her cheek, her heart thundering. Her eyes stung and a vein in her throat was beating wildly. “Dear gods…”

  “The devil more like!” He reached for her again, gripping her hips and pulling her close, against his groin, his straining arousal. “Only he would torment a man so.” He kissed her, hard and fast. “When you stormed into the clearing, all indignant and beautiful, I could resist you no more. I had to have you.

  “Nae, I must have you.” He unbuckled his sword belt, tossing it aside. He whipped off his plaid with even greater speed. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I laid eyes on you. And I’ll defy your brother, the Scottish crown, and even the gods themselves if they try and keep me from making you mine.”


  “Alasdair…” Marjory could hardly speak past the lump in her throat. Her vision blurred, her eyes swimming with stinging heat.

  Alasdair – her beloved Alasdair – stood naked before her in the Thunder Cave, light and shadow dancing across his tall, strapping body. He set his hands on his hips, making no attempt to hide his maleness, so roused and magnificent. There could be no doubt that he wanted her. Or that he intended to mate with her here, this night.

  Only one worry rose through the haze of desire.

  So she put back her shoulders, stood as proud as she could. “You didn’t say you love me. Or that you wish to wed-”

  He frowned. “I would no’ be here if I didn’t love you.”

  He was on her with three swift strides. And somehow, he had her out of her cloak, her gown, before she realized what was happening. When only her shift remained, he hooked his thumbs beneath the shoulder straps. His gaze burning into hers, he ripped the gown off of her, rending the linen with a loud tear. The sound echoed through the cave as her ruined shift fluttered down her legs to pool around her ankles.

  She gasped, feeling vulnerable as the cave’s chill, damp air hit her exposed skin.

  “You take my breath, lass.” His gaze drifted over her, hungrily. “More beautiful than I’d dreamed.”

  She shivered when he ran his hand down her arm, trailed the backs of his fingers across the top swells of her breasts. Something in the deepest, most womanly part of her clenched, liquid heat swirling low by her thighs. Her excitement rose, spinning out of control.

  Her knees felt weak, unable to support her.

  This was the fever Isobel and Catriona had told her to expect.

  The bright, all-consuming desire that fired the blood, blazing with the heat of a thousand suns – until quenched by a man’s loving.

  “So you do love me?” She needed to be sure.

  “I love you more than my own life.” He gripped her wrists and held her arms to the side. He looked her up and down again, his eyes darkening as he surveyed her nakedness. “I have dreamed of you nightly, ached to see you so, burned to take you in my arms, hold you close, skin to skin, claim you as mine. Again and again, for I know I’ll ne’er have enough of you. So, aye, I love you.” He lowered her arms, stepped closer. “I love you more than my land, my clan, and my word to a King.

  “And, aye, I will wed you.” His voice was rough, his roused manhood nudging her hip. “I’ll prove my love to you this night. Then I’ll speak with my council. We’ll leave the glen if such is deemed necessary. In a few years, Ewan can step up as chief. Until then, the elders will guide him.”

  “You’d leave Blackshore? The glen?” Marjory touched his face, tracing his jaw with her fingertips. “You would do that for me?”

  “I would slay dragons for you,” he vowed, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the mound of bear- and wolfskins. “I’ll even speak with Kendrew, though I cannae see good coming of that!”

  “He will-”

  “Mind his peace, if he is wise.” His voice took on a hard edge, his steely resolve sending shivers through her. He met her gaze, holding it as he knelt on the furs. Settling her into their softness, he smoothed his hands down her sides and back up again, possessively. “Nothing matters except you. This night and always.” He stretched out beside her, his gaze hot and fierce. “I’ve waited too long to make you mine.”

  “Then do.” She turned in his arms, curving her hand around his neck and pulling him to her. “I’ve waited no less.” She blinked, not wanting him to see the tears burning her eyes. “I have loved you all the while, ever hoping, yearning for your return-”

  “Marjory…” He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her long and deep. She leaned into him and he curved his hand around her hip, drawing her even closer. Their tongues stroked and swirled, the sharing of their breath so intimate she melted from the pleasure.

  He broke the kiss, easing back to look at her. “You know what is about to happen?” He slid a hand over her breasts, kneading them gently, brushing the tips with his thumb. “It willnae be easy, but I can stop now. You must tell me if-”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips before he could finish. Smiling, she shook her head. “The Thunder Caves were my last hope,” she admitted. “I believe the gods caused you to veer in to the Thunder Vale. I could’ve warned you that the burns would be flooded, but I didn’t want to risk one final chance to see if you-”

  “Would fall under your spell?” He took her hand, pressing her palm to his chest. “Do you feel my heart?” When she nodded, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. “Its pounding should tell you I am yours and aye have been. You didn’t need your Thunder Vale and its caves. Though I am glad we are here!”

  “It is a grand place.” Marjory glanced at the slanting star-and moonbeams dancing about the cave, silvering the floor and walls. Candlelight flickered across the ancient drawings, giving them life so the entwined couples appeared to move, writhing in passion, unaware that they were observed. Shivering, she reached to twine her fingers in Alasdair’s hair. She looked at him, her heart beating wildly, so many longings swirling inside her.

  “I thought to seduce you here.” The truth slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

  “I told you, sweet, you did that long ago.” He smoothed his hand down her side, shaping every dip and curve, slowing his fingers perilously near the part of her that rippled with pure molten heat.

  “You were gone so long.” Those words, too, fell before she could stay them. “You said there were many-”

  “So I did, and there were. But no’ many women as you were about to say.” He laughed, the sound low and dark in the cave’s vastness. But then the levity left his face and he sealed his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, he caught and held her gaze. “Many were my thoughts of you, great was my need. When I slept, I saw your face, dreamt of you. If I walked through Inverness and spotted a woman’s fair and shining hair, my heart would leap. Then I’d see she wasn’t you, and I’d feel like someone punched me in the ribs. On the nights I lodged at a friend’s hall and his lady sat beside him at the high table, my soul ached because I wished you graced my side at Blackshore.”

  “Alasdair…” Marjory slipped her hand down his shoulder, gliding her fingers along his arm. “I never knew, though I’d hoped.”

  “I did try to forget you. I finally believed I had.” He captured her hand, placing it back on his chest. “Yet there were times, especially sailing home through the Hebrides, when the moonlit nights were so beautiful and I’d ache to hold you, kiss and touch you everywhere. Then I’d remember all the reasons I shouldn’t love you, damned good reasons, and I’d want nothing more than to smash something. Or” – his smile flashed – “to kill your brother.”

  “You may yet have the chance.” Marjory was sure that was so.

  But she didn’t want to worry about Kendrew now.

  She wanted…

  “Oh, my!” She froze. Alasdair was touching her everywhere.

  Somehow he’d wrapped an arm around her, drawing her even closer. And his knee was now between her thighs. His hand was also there, gliding ever upward, his fingers drifting oh so lightly over the part of her that thrummed so deliciously. Holding her gaze, he stroked her even more intimately, circling his thumb over a spot that sent bolts of intense pleasure spearing through her.

  She caught her breath, arching into his hand, wanting more of the exquisite sensations.

  A shimmer of embarrassment flickered through her mind, but then all thought spun away. All that remained were the wondrous feelings whispering across her flesh. Sensations more thrilling than anything she’d ever experienced. When he slipped a fingertip inside her, his thumb and other fingers still working such magic, she tensed, digging her hands into the bearskin’s thick pelt.

  “My precious lass.” Alasdair’s voice was deep, coming as if from a distance.

  “Kiss me.” She wanted his kisse
s badly.

  “I will,” he promised, glancing at her. A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when, instead of kissing her, he leaned back to look at her breasts. He cupped and rubbed them, rolling the crests between his fingers. “I shall kiss you here.”

  “What?” Marjory’s eyes rounded.

  “You’ll no’ be denying me the pleasure,” he vowed, splaying his hand across the full rounds of her breasts. “I have craved the taste of you for long. I’m done with the waiting.”

  From somewhere – his chest? – there came a low rumbling, almost a growl. Then he rolled over her, his big, strong body seamed to hers as he kissed her breasts, opening his mouth over her tightened nipples to lick and draw on them. With his hand, he kept on cupping and kneading her, the pleasure almost unbearable. And still he stroked and teased the tingly, swollen flesh between her legs.

  “Please…” She squirmed against the furs, certain she’d break apart from the maddeningly sweet sensations. “I can’t stand it.”

  He stopped at once, looking up at her. “Enough? Shall we leave now? No more touching? Are we done kissing already? Shall I no’-”

  “Yes!” She pushed up, reaching for him. “I mean no, I don’t want to stop. I’ve waited long, too,” she rushed the words, admitting her desire. “I want you to love me.”

  She now knew that he did, with his heart.

  She meant his body.

  “Och, lass, I shall.” He spoke low, his gaze burning into hers, leaving no doubt he’d understood. “As soon as you are ready, I will-”

  “I am now.” She was certain. “I know of such things. Isobel and Catriona have instructed me. And” – she hoped only she heard her voice waver – “I have seen beasts at Nought. Horses and cattle as they-”

  “Indeed.” He arched a brow, his hands spending such magic, his gaze amused.

  “Yes.” She hissed the word through her teeth when he slid a second finger inside her, his thumb now circling with even more deliberation.

  “So I see.” He slid his fingers through her intimate curls. “Then tell me, sweet, if your Nought beasties do this…”