A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four

by Barclay, Celeste

  “I heard more than enough aboot you, but as you said, it’s in the past. Neither of us imagined we would be where we are today,” Cairstine shrugged, but her cocked eyebrow was a silent reminder that while she might not have lain with any men while at court, she’d kissed more than a few. “As the Bible says, ‘A gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman without discretion.’ I intend to benefit from all the things those women boasted aboot.”

  Cairstine once again pushed at Eoin’s shoulder, and he relented. Once he lay on his back, Cairstine rolled to her side. She walked her fingers down the valley of his chest and over the ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by how they flexed under her touch. She grazed her nails over the skin where the tuft of hair began. Eoin drew in a sharp breath, and Cairstine retreated to caressing his chest. She toyed with him again as her fingers meandered toward his cock, and Eoin feared he would expire before she ever touched him.

  “Kiss me,” Cairstine whispered, and Eoin was only too happy to oblige. As their tongues swept against one another’s, her hand wrapped around his rod, slowly stroking him, experimenting with feel and Eoin’s reactions. When his breathing shortened, and she felt him twitch within her palm, she looked at his rod. It had fascinated her the last time they’d lain together on her bed, but he’d abruptly dashed to the window and finished himself. She’d felt robbed, and she didn’t intend for that to happen again. Cairstine slid from the bed, taking the same position Eoin had earlier, except his legs were far too long and heavy to place over her shoulders. She took him in her hand again, before flicking her tongue across the tip of his cock. Eoin inhaled a whistling breath as he strained to see her. Her tongue swiped over the entire head before she drew away, a curious expression on her face. “I confess I want to know if you taste as pleasurable to me as I seem to taste to you.”

  She continued to stroke Eoin until she noticed he pulsed slightly in her hand. Her own need to explore and pleasure Eoin drove her to lower her mouth onto his length as her lips gripped the scorching, satin skin. Cairstine refused to panic as his length brushed her teeth, the roof of her mouth, and the back of her throat. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted, and Eoin had even tried to dissuade her. Her curiosity and desire to please him outweighed her trepidation.

  “I won’t last if you continue to torment me. You’re far too seductive for my own good,” Eoin murmured as he drew Cairstine onto the bed beside him and propped himself on his elbow. He massaged her breast, and as the ache that began within her core intensified, she feared she would expire from need. She became restless with a need to discover what it felt like to be joined.

  “I know, mo chridhe. Soon.” Eoin reassured as he eased the tip of his rod into her channel and stopped, but Cairstine encouraged him to continue, her fingers biting into his shoulders as she squirmed, trying to bring their bodies closer. Eoin held himself above her, refusing to rush what he feared would be more painful than pleasurable for Cairstine in the beginning. Eoin moved tentatively, fearful of harming Cairstine or bringing back her anxiety. But she rocked her hips up to accept more of him. “I don’t want to hurt you, mo ghràidh milis.” My sweet darling.

  Cairstine prayed Eoin would call her that countless times over the years to come. His cock slipped further within her slick sheath. As her muscle gripped the invading length, it felt more like her body was inviting him in rather than pushing him away. Eoin listened to her soft pleas for more, so he rocked his hips forward until he brushed her barrier. “Cairrie, I’ll stop if it hurts too much.”

  Cairrie made to shake her head, but suddenly it felt as if someone had knocked the wind from her lungs as Eoin surged past her maidenhead and buried himself. They both moaned, but only his sounded like pleasure. He held himself still as Cairstine blinked several times. Part of her body wanted to reject the invasion, the sting still hurting, but most of her body begged for them to continue. She slid her hands from the back of his shoulders to his chiseled buttocks, pressing him into her as she once again rocked her hips, her legs falling open.

  “Saints and angels, Cairstine. You feel better than even my most vivid imaginings. I never want to leave. I want my body buried deep within you from now until eternity.”

  “I won’t stop you. Eo, how could I have shied away from this, from you for so long? Why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?”

  “Would you have believed me?” Eoin smiled.

  “I don’t suppose I would have, but you are mo ghaol mòr.” My one great love. Cairstine meant it. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling for another man what she did for Eoin. As their bodies moved together, she gave herself over to the sensations that seized control of every fiber in her body. She felt it respond the same way it did to his hand and his mouth, but this was a far more powerful drug. It gave her both strength and weakness as she discovered what she’d nearly forsaken. Her body raced toward the finish, but she fought the wave of pleasure, wanting their first time together to last longer.

  “Give in to it, mo chridhe. Women can experience their release multiple times. It’s men who need a little time to recover in between,” Eoin grinned. His handsome face was as much a thing of beauty as his body. As she gazed at him, her body fell over the precipice, shattering as waves upon waves washed over her, the tightness in her core finding the release only Eoin offered.

  “Eoin!” Cairstine cried out, but there was no fear in her voice this time. Anyone who heard wouldn’t doubt that she was being well loved. Eoin continued to thrust, struggling to rein in his need to spend. He wanted Cairstine to experience those multiple climaxes he’d just promised her. He refused to short change her or make her question herself. He understood how her mind worked. She would assume it was her flaw rather than Eoin’s inability to resist her. He shifted and circled his hips, grinding their pelvises together with each thrust. Cairstine became frantic, and Eoin feared she was panicking, but the flush that began at the top of her breasts and blossomed along her neck to her cheeks, and the strained cords in her neck as she arched her back told him her frenzy came from her imminent release. He tweaked her nipple, and she shattered beneath him, screaming his name as he bellowed hers. He was certain the entire keep knew what they were about, and he didn’t care.

  As they floated back down to Earth, Eoin was careful not to press his full weight against Cairstine. He feared crushing her much smaller frame, and he wasn’t sure whether it would trigger an unpleasant memory. But he breathed easier when she tugged him down to her, locking her arms and legs around him. He rested most of his weight on his forearms but relented when the feel of their bodies pressed together reminded him of the last bite of dessert, the perfect finish.

  Cairstine ran her hands along Eoin’s back, mesmerized as much by the feel of his body as the reverence he’d shown as he worshipped hers. She felt loved and complete, a new and profoundly serene combination. Despite the heavy weight of Eoin pressing her against the mattress, it was as if she were boneless and weightless, floating on a cloud of joy. When Eoin’s body no longer cooperated with his mind, withdrawing to their mutual groans of frustration and disappointment, he rolled to his side, bringing Cairstine onto hers. Their arms entwined as they clasped hands between them, and they laid in silence for a long time just staring into one another’s eyes.

  “Tha gaol agam ort, Cairrie.” I love you. Eoin never imagined those words combined could have such overwhelming force. He loved his brother and his father, and he’d grown to love his sister-by-marriage, but nothing compared to the all-consuming love he felt for Cairstine.

  "Chan eil barrachd na tha gaol agam ort, Eoin.” No more than I love you. Cairstine’s face radiated her joy, and Eoin thought she’d never looked lovelier. Not in all her courtly attire, not when they were beneath a bright blue sky. But that moment, when it was only the two of them. It wasn’t long before they drifted back to sleep, only to wake to make love several times throughout the rest of the night and well into the morning.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

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nbsp; Eoin deflected the bone-jarring slice from his brother’s sword as it landed against the targe strapped to his arm. He was pleased to be sparring with Ewan once again, since his time at Freuchie was the longest the twins had been separated. But he would confess that he was exhausted. The emotional strain of Cairstine’s nightmares, along with the tumultuous emotions of making love to her for the first time, were taxing Eoin’s strength. He was aware Cairstine was in the ladies’ solar with Davina, Fenella, and Allyson, but he felt himself growing anxious about not having her in arm’s reach after such a momentous night.

  “Shall I take your head off along with both arms?” Ewan drew back. “You’re lucky I love you, even like you most days, and these are blunted swords. Eoin, are you even listening?”

  “Huh?” Eoin turned away from the keep and looked at his twin, unsure of what Ewan just said.

  “She’s with her mother and sister, along with my wife. If I’m brave enough to leave Allyson in their care, you can survive Cairstine being in theirs too.”

  Eoin shook his head ruefully. “Things changed last night.”

  “I’d figured as much, even if the entire keep hadn’t heard you,” Ewan chuckled.

  Eoin’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he glared at his brother, but he knew Ewan was teasing. “I mean more than just that. Ewan, I finally told her I love her, and she said she feels the same way. I have never heard a sweeter sound than those words coming from Cairstine’s lips.”

  “I have,” Ewan clapped his brother on his back. “It’s when they’re coming from my wife’s mouth.”

  Eoin playfully shoved Ewan away as they walked toward the water buckets. It was midafternoon, and the sun was high overhead. It was a sultry summer day, and most of the men in the lists had stripped their leines off. Eoin swiped his off the ground and ran it over his face and neck as he waited his turn for the water ladle. He leaned in to whisper to Ewan.

  “We said our handfast vows for real. She’s my wife now.”

  “Aboot bluidy time,” Ewan wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Does Da ken?”

  “Aye, we found him before we went belowstairs. He offered his blessing and welcomed her into the clan. Did Allyson bring an extra plaid?”

  “Aye, a few.”

  “Do you think she would lend one to Cairstine? She can’t wear one of mine very easily for the same reason Allyson doesn’t wear yours. She’d drown in it. I’d like her to have it in time for the gathering.”

  “Staking your claim?” Ewan teased.

  “Is your wife still wearing an Elliot plaid?” Eoin cocked an eyebrow at his brother but ducked from the halfhearted punch Ewan threw.

  “Point taken. I’ll ask Allyson to set one aside before the evening meal. Clans have started arriving and setting up camp outside the wall. The bailey is already filling up with lairds and their families. Let’s go inside and bathe before there’s no hot water left. My wife can’t scrub my back if I’m all the way at the loch.” Ewan grinned.

  Eoin’s mind flashed to the bath he’d helped Cairstine take a few hours earlier. They’d skipped the morning and midday meals, and Cairstine happily fled back upstairs once they’d made an appearance. Far too many knowing smiles and winks embarrassed her. After their supposed wedding night a fortnight and a half earlier, they hadn’t remained in their chamber past Lauds. Their conspicuous absence left little to the imagination. He looked forward to Cairstine helping him with his bath, just as he’d helped with hers. He lowered his head to hide his grin as he thought about how his help delayed them at least an hour.

  “Bluidy hell,” Ewan muttered, and Eoin looked up. “The bastard has the nerve to not only show up here but bring his rabble clan.” Eoin followed Ewan’s gaze and spotted Laird Farlane Gunn arriving with his entourage of clan members and personal guards.

  “He needs those guardsmen,” Eoin snarled. “That mon is naught but trouble. The world was lucky when the Sinclairs rid it of his piece of shite brothers. But even James and Tomas weren’t as bad as Farlane. He was never meant to be laird, but two dead aulder brothers does the trick. That mon is naught but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  “Aye. The king forced the Sinclairs to make their peace with them, but everyone kens the role they played in Callum’s wife’s mistreatment. Siùsan was lucky Callum and his brothers found her.” Ewan groaned, “Och, Christ on the cross. The Mackenzies aren’t far behind them.” Ewan stretched to his full height to see how many accompanied the Gunn laird and the Mackenzie laird.

  “Aye, Lady Mackenzie is riding next her brother rather than her husband. I think there is something not right aboot them.” Eoin didn’t bother hiding his disgust.

  “I just hope they pitch their camp a good, long distance from the Sinclairs, Mackays, and Sutherlands, or there will be a brawl every night.” Eoin chuckled, but it held little mirth. Eoin and Ewan had fought alongside all four Sinclair brothers and their father Laird Liam, along with Laird Tristan Mackay who was a brother-by-marriage having married their only sister, and Laird Hamish Sutherland and his son Lachlan. Hamish was Liam’s brother by marriage, making Lachlan cousin to the Sinclairs and somewhat indirectly related to Tristan. Among those three clans, they ruled the northern Highlands with one unbreakable alliance. The Gordons’ money would always be on the three clans tied by blood and marriage.

  “Aye, and don’t forget the MacLeods of Assynt.” Ewan nodded. “They may not be large, but Siùsan’s grandfather and cousin will run anyone through who looks even a tad sideways at the lass.”

  Ewan and Eoin watched as Farlane Gunn, his sister Lady Elizabeth Mackenzie, and Laird Ulrich Mackenzie dismounted and made their way toward the keep. Something about seeing Farlane Gunn set Eoin’s hackles on edge. He glanced around and realized why. The Gunn’s sniveling and conniving son, Arlan, wasn’t far away. Eoin had had more than one run in with the Gunn heir, and he didn’t trust the man within an inch of his life. Eoin’s sense of urgency to find Cairstine grew as he watched the newcomers enter the keep ahead of him. He exchanged a glance with Ewan, and Eoin knew his twin was in as much of a hurry to check on his bride as Eoin was to check on his.

  * * *

  Cairstine draped the Gordon plaid over her shoulders, marveling at the softness of the wool. She’d been deeply moved when Allyson presented her with the plaid just before the women returned to their chambers to prepare for the evening meal. She’d spent the early afternoon with her mother, sister, and sister-by-marriage. When the brothers returned from the lists, both couples disappeared for a couple of hours. It escaped no one’s notice that the wives’ return to their chamber coincided with their husbands’ baths. There were four damp heads of hair that emerged from their chambers rather than only two. Eoin and Ewan found their father and joined Edward and Fingal in Edward’s solar. They discussed the upcoming feast and games. Eoin mentioned his concerns about the Gunns and Mackenzies pitching their camps too close to the Sinclairs, Sutherlands, and Mackays. Edward reassured them that while Lairds Gunn and Mackenzie, along with their families, would sleep in their tents, Davina had assigned chambers within the keep to the Sinclairs, Sutherlands, and Mackays.

  Eoin slid his arms around Cairstine’s waist and nuzzled her neck. “I’m honored to see you wear the Gordon colors, mo chridhe.”

  “I’m a Gordon now,” Cairstine smiled. “I know you asked Allyson to lend me one of hers. That means a great deal to me. I admit I’ve wondered more than once what I would look like in them.”

  Cairstine finished fastening the belt around her waist, which was a task made harder when Eoin kept attempting to unfasten it. She adjusted the plaid, so it hung as an arisaid. She peered into the looking glass and sighed. She never imagined that the sight of Eoin standing with her while she wore his clan’s plaid could fill her with such a sense of rightness.

  “You’ll be the bonniest lass anywhere on Grant land.” Eoin kissed her cheek and began nibbling her earlobe. Cairstine shivered as Eoin pressed kisses along her throat.
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br />   “How will you be able to tell if we never leave here?”

  “I already ken.” Eoin turned Cairstine around and pulled her in for a kiss that made them both consider skipping the evening meal. When they pulled apart, Eoin tucked a loose strand of hair behind Cairstine’s ear. She’d begun braiding it after Eoin announced their pretend handfast, no longer wearing it unbound like an unwed woman. She’d decided to wear it up while the clans were visiting, ensuring no man confused her for a maiden. “Cairrie, I won’t leave your side. Tensions are bound to be high throughout the next fortnight. If aught happens, and we get separated, or if something happens to me, come up here. Bare the door and don’t open it for anyone but me, my father, or Ewan. If you and Allyson can make it to a chamber together, that would be even better. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, mo ghaol,” Cairstine nodded but her brow furrowed when Eoin’s already intense gaze deepened. He pulled her in for a kiss that stole her breath. He pushed his sporran behind him and lifted her off the ground, pulling her legs around his waist. He walked them to the wall, pressing her back against it. They fumbled with their clothes until Eoin could thrust into Cairstine. He’d been gentle the night before and even that afternoon, wary of Cairstine being sore, but she promised she wouldn’t break. The only thing to break was their control. Eoin pounded his rod into her over and over as need overwhelmed them. Cairstine cried out Eoin’s name over and over as her body responded to the wild air to their lovemaking. Eoin’s legs shook when he spilled into Cairstine. They rested their foreheads together, and Eoin leaned his forearm against the wall. When he was certain he could walk without his legs giving out, he moved them to a chair where he sat, still buried within Cairstine.