Seduction of a Highland Warrior (Highland Warriors Book 4)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Leaning forward, he nipped and sucked on her lower lip before moving down her body to settle himself between her legs. “I would know the truth,” he challenged, holding her gaze. He eased her knees apart and lowered his head, nibbling and kissing his way up the inside of her thighs. “I promise that no creatures at Blackshore are so skilled,” he teased, his face now only a shiver away from that place.

  Marjory stared at him, torn between begging him to stop and urging him on. “You can’t mean to…” She felt herself blushing, also felt his soft, warm breath on her most intimate flesh. “Mercy!”

  “Good, aye?” He gave her a wicked smile, his gaze locked on hers as he opened his mouth over her, licking deep.

  “O-o-oh, no…” Her hips bucked and she gripped the bearskin so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Her entire body tensed and then fell apart, pleasure such as she’d never imagined, streaming out from where he licked her, tasting her so intimately.

  “I see you like this.” He paused, watching her intently. “But you’ll no’ be enjoying it as much as I am. You, my love, are a succulent treat to be tasted to the full, savored deeply.” As if to prove his words, he lowered his head again, circling his tongue over the same incredibly sensitive spot he’d rubbed with his thumb.

  And this time she truly couldn’t bear the pleasure.

  “Alasdair, please…” She grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him away.

  “Nae, sweet, no’ yet.” He started licking her again. Long, leisurely sweeps of his tongue across her hot, needy flesh. With his thumb, he once again rubbed the place that spent the most intense pleasure. “Only when you truly melt will I touch you.”

  “You are touching me and” – she arched into him, desperate for more, something she felt hovering just at the edge of her reach – “I am melting!”

  “No’ yet,” he argued, lifting away from her. “But you soon will be. I dinnae wish to hurt you.” Still watching her closely, he reached down and dragged his fingers across her tingling and sensitive flesh. Then, as her eyes rounded, he circled the long, thick shaft of his arousal, damping his own flesh with the moisture that glistened on his fingers. Her woman’s dew that Isobel and Catriona had told her about, swearing it would ease her first time lying with him.

  Even knowing what it was, her face heated to look on as he finished and then stretched out on top of her, his manhood hot and heavy against her hip. And then – his eyes darkened, masculine triumph flaring – as he reached between them so that his arousal nudged at her. He curled his other hand around her neck and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth as…

  He thrust the hard length of himself inside her, claiming her at last. Fiery pain shot through her and she gasped, gripping his shoulders. At her cry, he stilled as her body tensed and tightened around him. But the sharp stinging eased quickly and before he could pull away, she reached to cradle his face, kissing him deeply. She rocked her hips, encouraging him with all her womanly instincts to keep on, to make her his now and forevermore.

  “Norn…” He raised up on his elbows, his eyes glinting so darkly she’d think they were black if she didn’t know otherwise. “I’m sorry, sweet. Ne’er would I cause you pain.”

  “I’m fine.” She spoke true, the hot pinch she’d felt insubstantial to the rush of happiness sweeping her. The joy of lying so closely, skin to skin, intimately joined with the man she loved so fiercely. “I knew there would be some pain-”

  “Hush, lass.” He silenced her with more kisses, used his thumb to circle that special place again. Gentle touches, each careful rub sent pleasure rippling through her. Then, sure and with determination, he began to move his hips, pushing deeper into her, inch by slow inch.

  “My Norn...” He raised his head, closing his eyes as the hard, thick length of him stretched and filled her. Veins stood out on his neck, his body tensing above her. She saw a muscle jerk in his jaw and then she knew little more because the sweet circling of his thumb was sharpening her need. She trembled as the sensations grew, drawing her closer to a glittering edge of delight where the pleasure was almost beyond bearing.

  Then he opened his eyes, looking at her with such smoldering heat she almost slid right over that tempting, beckoning release.

  But there was something so glorious, so right, about locking gazes with him, looking so deeply into each other’s eyes as they were joined so intimately.

  “My heart, I love you so.” She smoothed the hair at his brow.

  “Norn.” His voice was rough, the sweetness of it making her heart ache. “You are mine.” He caught her wrist, lifting her arm above her head, linking their fingers. “I will ne’er let you go. No’ ever.”

  “You won’t have to.” She looked past his shoulder to the cave’s doomed ceiling. The naked cavorting pairs no longer embarrassed her. Now, the way they seemed to move in the candle glow encouraged her, urging her to rock her hips more sinuously.

  Gripping Alasdair’s hand, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, she matched his rhythmic thrusts as he deepened his strokes. His body’s claiming of her as binding as his words of love.

  So why was one of the etched figures looking at her with such pity?

  Marjory blinked, narrowing her eyes at the red-and-black drawing of a voluptuous female riding astride an equally well-built man.

  The painted couple did appear to be alive, the candles’ dancing flames giving them substance, life.

  They did seem to be moving, the woman lifting up and down atop the male. Her head was thrown back as if in ecstasy, her hair wild and free, flowing down her back. But she was no longer peering down at Marjory, a world of sorrow in her darkly etched eyes.

  Nor had she looked at Marjory at all.

  Her pleasure, the excitement and her carnal bliss, were playing tricks on her.

  Still, despite the heat swirling around her and Alasdair, she felt a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before. But then his thrusts deepened even more, his hips moving ever faster as he tensed above her, his hold on her hand, strong and tight.

  “Norn!” He stilled above her as he threw back his head, his eyes closed and jaw clenching. Stinging heat filled her even as he pressed his thumb down hard on that intensely sensitive spot, circling fast now, the sensations spiraling until everything around her spun away. The star- and moonbeams blended with the dancing light of the candles as she split apart, losing control, as she sped over the brink into womanhood.

  Slowly, she sank into the soft bed of furs. Sated, dazed, and wondrously happy, she opened her eyes to see Alasdair stretched out alongside her, the most glorious smile on his handsome face. Braced on an elbow, he reached out to smooth his hand down her side before resting it possessively on her hip. The look on his face, the triumph, chased any feelings of awkwardness that might’ve risen.

  “I’d rather this happened at Blackshore.” He stroked her lightly, his voice still roughened by passion. “But I took you knowing you’ll be my wife. Dinnae you forget that after I leave you tonight. I meant what I said. You are mine. No one will e’er come between us again.”

  “My brother will try.” It had to be said.

  Kendrew would be furious if he knew. He’d challenge Alasdair, and whichever one of them was killed, she’d bear the responsibility.

  She bit her lip, not wanting to think of such a tragedy.

  Not now, when such glittering, all-consuming pleasure still warmed her and the beautiful haze of their loving buoyed her so sweetly.

  Yet…

  She did have to return to Nought. This night, and very shortly lest Kendrew noticed her absence and sent out a party of men to search for her.

  She sat up, glancing about for her clothes. “We must be away, now before it is too late.”

  “Hush, sweet.” Alasdair curled his hand around her wrist, pulling her back down again, wrapping his arms around her. He smoothed the hair from her face, kissed her brow, the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you safely to Nought, and at
speed.” He glanced toward the cave’s entrance where a wedge of the night sky could be seen.

  The wind had died and a sparkling scatter of stars shone against the clear, black heavens, the storm now gone.

  “I will handle your brother.” He turned her in his arms, cradling her back against his chest. “Dinnae say aught to him until I’ve had the chance. That is all I ask of you. I dinnae trust him.”

  “He won’t do anything to me.” Marjory defended him, knowing in her heart that Kendrew wished only the best for her.

  But his idea of good was different from hers.

  And so she reached to where Alasdair’s hands were clasped over her abdomen and placed her own hands over his, squeezing tight.

  “The only danger for me has been his plan to see me wed to a Viking lord. That threat no longer exists. There’s nothing-owwww!” She jerked, her amber necklace trembling, white-hot against her throat. Her eyes flew wide, the shocking heat almost scalding her.

  The sensation passed in an eye blink.

  Even as she lifted a hand to the necklace, the stones were cool to the touch, the ambers still.

  But the chill she’d noted when Alasdair had made love to her was back. The storm may have passed, but the cave had turned icy enough to raise gooseflesh on her skin. It was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering. Alasdair didn’t seem to notice.

  And that could mean only one thing.

  The warning was meant for her.

  Wanting nothing to do with it, she twisted around in Alasdair’s arms. She took his face in her hands, kissed him deeply. She poured all her love and passion into the kiss, her heart soaring when he tightened his arms around her, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Such kisses, such abandoned and pure loving, held power. The greatest magic on earth, she was sure.

  If trouble came, she’d be ready.

  With Alasdair’s love to protect her, nothing could harm her.

  He’d said so.

  Still, she wouldn’t look again at the ancient painted woman up near the cave’s ceiling.

  She’d sooner trust in Alasdair’s promise.

  She silently made one of her own to bring him happiness all his days.

  Chapter 16

  Her fortune had turned at last.

  Reliving every beautiful moment she and Alasdair had enjoyed in the Thunder Caves, Marjory settled deeper into her bath. She wished they could’ve spent the night in each other’s arms. But she’d understood Alasdair’s need to return to Blackshore. Nor did she wish to rile her brother unduly. Much better to bide her time and let Alasdair confront him, man to man. When he did, she secretly hoped Kendrew would accept their union, perhaps even be happy for them.

  It wasn’t likely, but she’d do her best to make it so.

  Considering her options, she leaned her head back against the wooden tub’s padded edge, relishing the warm, scented water. Her emotions were still ragged. Her ride with Alasdair across Nought had taken her from the darkest depths of doubt and despair to the most wondrous heights of bliss she could imagine.

  She’d thought he was lost to her, only to learn that he’d carried her in his heart all the while.

  Her own heart swelled, so full she wondered it didn’t burst with her happiness. She did dip her washcloth into her jar of lavender-scented soap and scrubbed her breasts, and then her arms, remembering Alasdair’s touch. His hot gaze devouring her, the kisses they’d shared.

  His loving and how she’d never believed a carnal mating could be so intense, almost rapturous in its beauty. Even the soreness deep inside her was magical. Wondrous proof that only hours before they’d been intimately joined. Their bodies moving together as one, their hearts laid open, everything that stood between them banished to the realm of memories and darkening dreams.

  Well, almost everything.

  Her head ached from the effort of trying to push Kendrew from her mind. She wanted only to think of Alasdair and the life they’d enjoy together. He still felt as close as if he were in the next room, possibly even here at Nought, in her tower bedchamber with her.

  She could almost see him looking at her. His eyes smoldering as he reached for her, gripping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, his tongue gliding into her mouth, twirling against hers, the earthy pleasure of their shared breath. And how his shoulders tensed beneath her hands, proving how fiercely he desired her.

  She sighed and touched her ambers, wishing their magic could conjure him.

  Tendrils of steam rose from her bath, reminding her of how the mist had pressed so closely about them as they’d thundered across Nought’s rocky terrain.

  The rain had returned, beating against the castle walls, the night’s cold, wet darkness all the more romantic now that she’d ridden with Alasdair across half of Nought in the storm’s blustery embrace.

  She’d always loved wild weather.

  After the shelter of the Thunder Caves, her blood had quickened to share more of the rain- and windswept night with Alasdair.

  Even now, she shivered with excitement.

  The storm whisked her back into his arms, the memories of his wild passion making the lingering ache between her thighs tingle anew.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the rain and refusing to be sad that she was again in her bedchamber, miles separating them.

  Soon, he would come for her.

  He’d promised.

  Content in his word, she slid even deeper into the tub, letting the steaming water tease her chin. She enjoyed her baths. In truth, little was more delicious than soaking in the large, linen-lined tub, a well-doing wood fire on the hearth, and a fine Nought wind serenading her.

  Someone had thoughtfully lit the room’s small coal brazier. Her little dog, Hercules, took advantage. He’d pulled one of her best embroidered cushions from her bed and dragged it before the brazier, treating himself to a luxurious and warm resting place.

  But the little dog wasn’t sleeping.

  He’d stretched out on the cushion with his head resting on his paws, his ears pricked and his alert gaze on the bedchamber’s closed door.

  Hercules enjoyed guarding her privacy.

  He wouldn’t rest until she left the bathing tub and slipped into her bed. Even then, he’d keep vigil, jumping up to growl if so much as a dust mote drifted too near to her.

  Marjory glanced over at him, remembering how he’d almost played a favorite trick on Alasdair during one of his visits to Nought. Blessedly, she’d stopped Hercules just as he’d started to lift his little leg.

  She shifted in the tub, sitting up a bit higher. “You’re a wee blackguard at times, aren’t you?”

  One of Hercules’s ears twitched, his mouth curving as if he were smiling in agreement.

  “I’ll give you a treat shortly.” Marjory looked past him to where whoever had lit the brazier had also set her table with a late-night repast. Oatcakes, cheese and butter along with wild fruit and honey winked at her, making her realize how long it’d been since she’d eaten all of two oatcakes at Hella’s that afternoon.

  Hercules followed her gaze, making an appreciative gurgling sound deep in his chest.

  They could both do justice to such a feast.

  She certainly was famished.

  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to end her bath.

  She’d been drenched by the time Alasdair and his men had left her at the secret stair that led up to Nought’s stone garden. Alasdair had argued, and lost, his intent to deliver her to the hall door. At her insistence, he and his men had ridden past the gatehouse’s main stair to the stone garden’s little-used entrance where chances were good no one would see her slip into the stronghold.

  No one had.

  Nor had Alasdair known she’d stood in a sheltered bower of the stone garden, peering over the wall to watch him and his men turn and ride away from Nought.

  The rain increased then, the heavens opening as the storm raged around them, quickly blotting them from view. But she’d heard the thund
er of their horses’ hooves long after she’d caught her last glimpse of Alasdair’s broad back disappearing into the blowing mist.

  Not wanting to think about Alasdair hastening through the cold, wet night on his way back to Blackshore, she lifted the pitcher of rinse water, pouring its contents over her soapy scalp.

  “Brrr…” She shivered and reached for the second rinsing jug, glad that the water in both had gone so cold. She welcomed the icy shock.

  She’d never sleep if yearning for Alasdair kept rekindling the fires inside her; her awareness of the dull throbbing in intimate places making her burn to be in his arms again.

  Across the room, Hercules barked once, and then again, sounding upset.

  “Hush, sweet,” Marjory called to him, pushing to her feet and reaching for her drying cloth.

  It was then that a rush of cold air warned that she wasn’t alone.

  Someone had opened her door.

  “Who’s there?” She whipped about, whirling the drying cloth around her nakedness.

  “It’s only me.” Isobel closed the door behind her and came into the room, a terrible look on her face. Hercules dashed over to her, running circles around her, yapping noisily.

  Isobel didn’t even glance at him.

  She did come farther into the room. Her expression was even more unsettling now that she’d left the shadows of the door and the light of a wall torch fell across her, revealing her paleness, her state of disarray.

  “Dear gods, Isobel. What is it?” Marjory stared at her friend, alarmed by the wariness in her eyes and how her unbound hair was tangled, still damp from her own bath.

  She wore only her nightshift and she’d thrown one of Kendrew’s plaids around her shoulders. Her feet were bare, her breath coming fast, as if she’d been hurrying.

  She was clearly upset.

  “Speak, please.” Marjory felt her own pulse quickening. “What is it? Don’t tell me you truly did hurt yourself falling from Ewan’s horse?” She looked Isobel up and down, concerned. “You seemed fine when we spoke earlier, just after Alasdair brought me back.”

  “I am fine.” Isobel raised a hand and shook her head. “You know, I could land headfirst in a leap from a horse and not hurt myself. It isn’t that.” Staying where she was, she looked around the room and then at the closed door as if she thought someone stood on the other side, listening through the wood.