Highlander Unchained

by Monica McCarty

  When he began to caress her breasts with his big rough hands, she lost all coherent thought. He pinched her nipples lightly between his fingers, and heat spread between her legs.

  Scooping up her breasts with his hands, he sank his face into her, nuzzling her skin with the scratch of his beard. God, it was amazing. His mouth was hot and wet as he kissed her nakedness, sliding his tongue achingly close to the very tip of her. Her nipples throbbed, aching for the soft press of his mouth.

  She moaned when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

  “Do you like that?” he asked softly.

  She arched against him.

  “God, you’re hot,” he groaned. “So lush and responsive.” And then he was sucking her, his tongue circling the hard tip as he took her nipple deep into the warm recesses of his mouth. A cry of pure pleasure escaped from between her lips as a needle of white hot heat surged through her.

  Her body was on fire. She was pressing against him, moving, unable to release the building tension. Wanting more. Wanting the friction of his body. Frantically, her hands roamed over his back and her hips circled against him.

  She felt the change. Felt as he succumbed to the heat. He sucked her harder, using his teeth to gently nibble and pull as his hands moved over her bottom and down her leg with clear purpose. He was done teasing. Done talking. He wanted this as badly as she did.

  His hand was under her skirt, sliding up her leg as he increased the pressure on her breast, laving her with his tongue and sucking her deep and hard. The warm spot between her legs began to clench.

  She didn’t understand what was happening, her body felt so strange. She was trembling and quivering all over. His fingers skimmed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She tensed, embarrassed by the sudden gush of dampness near his hand. She tried to close her legs, but he stopped her with a stroke, the barest graze of his finger against her core.

  She froze in shock and wonder.

  “Don’t be frightened,” he said soothingly, lifting his head from her breast. “I promise this will feel good.”

  His finger reached out to sweep against her again, this time lingering to cup her and massage her gently. What was he doing? And why did it feel so incredible? No one ever told her it would be like this. So warm and silky and overwhelming. Her shock abated as she succumbed to sensation. Wallowing in the wet heat building where he touched.

  Sensing her surrender, he caught her lips with his, sliding his tongue in her mouth just as his finger slid inside her. Oh God, it was perfect. She’d never felt so wanton, so free. He was cupping her, his finger sliding in and out, faster and faster, until her hips started moving against his hand. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind focused on the pulse between her legs that was concentrating and building in intensity. She was frantic, writhing against him. Something magical beckoned just out of reach. She wanted desperately to leap, but something was holding her back.

  A knock on the door shattered the fragile moment like glass. The flood of heat turned to shards of ice.

  He swore, stepped back from her, and struggled to control the primal lust she saw raging in his gaze. Every inch of his body seemed tense and rigid. No man had ever looked at her with such raw desire. She felt as though she’d unleashed a lion, a lion that would not be tamed. A twinge of unease fluttered in her chest.

  What had she almost done? The truth hit her hard. The ramifications of what had nearly happened poured down on her in an unforgiving deluge. She’d almost given herself to him. Her captor. The man who intended to use her for his own ends.

  But it had seemed so right.

  Flora moved to the other side of the room, trying to get as far away from him as possible, and adjusted her gown as quickly as she could manage with shaking fingers, giving thanks that the simple gown could be easily slipped back over her shoulders and tied at the front. But there was little she could do about her swollen lips and mussed hair.

  In a rough voice, Lachlan bade the intruder—or perhaps her savior—enter.

  The door opened, and she recognized the man who entered as one of the laird’s young guardsmen. His gaze flickered between the two of them cautiously. Flora’s cheeks heated as she realized he’d guessed what he’d interrupted. No doubt she looked as if she’d just been ravished—which she had. Nearly, anyway.

  After a heavy pause, he cleared his throat and spoke. “My laird, I’m sorry to disturb you. But it’s important.”

  The change that came over Lachlan was instantaneous: All vestiges of passion disappeared, and his expression was once again hard and impenetrable. Remote. The air of invincibility once again surrounded him, and too easily, she’d been forgotten. She felt a hard pang in her chest. The commanding chief had returned with a transformation so complete, it shook her.

  “What is it?” he asked in clipped tones.

  “A letter, my laird.” The messenger gave Flora an uneasy glance. “From Duart.”

  Chapter 8

  Flora’s heart plummeted to the floor. She couldn’t breathe. Here it was, the response she’d been waiting for. Dread crashed over her. Not because she feared that Hector would not exchange her, but because she feared he would. Would Lachlan let her go? Would he trade her for his castle?

  Her pulse raced as she awaited the answer.

  Wrapped in her own jumble of emotions, she almost missed the fleeting look of surprise on Lachlan’s face. He took the missive from the man, broke the seal, glanced at it briefly, and slid it in his leather sporran. His eyes turned black and cold as onyx. Clearly, something had angered him.

  “That will be all,” he said, dismissing the guardsman, who, from the awkward way he shuffled his feet, obviously couldn’t wait to leave.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Flora turned to him. Fists clenched at her side, she took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. “What does it say?”

  His jaw clenched forbiddingly. “We will discuss it later.”

  There could be only one explanation for his anger. “Hector refused?”

  The look he shot her made her take a step back. His expression was as fierce as she’d ever seen it. He’d never looked at her with something akin to…resentment. “I said not now. Return to your chamber”—his hard gaze fell to her breasts and then lowered—“unless you’d care to resume where we left off?”

  She flinched, his words as effective as a slap. The crude taunt after the intimacies they’d just shared stung. Something was wrong. Why was he lashing out at her like this? She’d thought him hard and forbidding, perhaps even ruthless, but never cruel. Was it something Hector had said? A lump settled low in her belly. Or had she done something wrong?

  Mouth trembling, she stood her ground. “Why are you treating me like this? I deserve to know. Tell me what the letter says.”

  Hard blue eyes bored into her. There was something raw in his gaze that made her heart tug. She made a movement toward him and then stopped self-consciously. His shoulders were so stiff, she yearned to put her hands on him and rub away the tension from the thick slabs of muscle. Only moments ago she’d been in his arms, and now he seemed untouchable. An insurmountable fortress had sprung up between them; she wondered if she’d only imagined the moments of intimacy.

  “Please,” she urged.

  He stared at her for a long moment, looking as if he were going to explode in rage; then, inexplicably, the fight seemed to leave him. “Damn you,” he swore.

  She reached for him then, placing her hand on his chest, feeling the tension under her palm. “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice sounded oddly hollow.

  Her brows furrowed. She didn’t understand. She’d seen him open it. “But why…?”

  All of a sudden, it hit her. He couldn’t read it. She nearly sighed with relief. He wasn’t angry with her. But he’d wanted to hide it from her. God, did he think she would ridicule him? She cringed inwardly, realizing that she might have—at one time. But not now. Not since she’d grown to know him. And respect
him.

  Having to fight for his clan rather than attend Tounis College in Edinburgh, as most of the Highland chiefs’ sons now did, including her brothers, in no way diminished her opinion of him. Though she couldn’t deny that many would feel differently. Her mother, for one. One of the things Janet Campbell had deplored in the men she’d married had been their lack of education. Learning had always been important to Flora as well. But Lachlan had made her realize that schooling did not necessarily equate with intelligence. Any man who could defend himself against attack from her powerful brother for so many years had more than proved himself in that regard.

  “You didn’t attend Tounis?”

  He held her gaze stiffly, as if bracing himself for her scorn. “No, there was not the opportunity or the means. I can read Erse, but not Scots. A fact of which your brother is well aware.”

  Flora frowned, not liking what that said about Hector. “May I see it?”

  He hesitated. For some reason, he still seemed reluctant to give it to her. Then he slipped it out of his sporran and placed it in her hand. The stiff piece of wrinkled parchment crackled as Flora unfolded it carefully. She read it over quickly, trying to prevent her relief from showing.

  Lifting her gaze to him, she saw the harsh flex of his jaw. “Shall I read it?”

  He nodded.

  “‘Release my sister or suffer the consequences. Consider this a warning. The only one you shall receive.’”

  “Strange,” she said, her gaze narrowing on the piece of parchment. “He doesn’t address your demands at all.”

  His expression went blank. “I think we can assume a refusal.”

  Ignoring the stab of hurt, Flora schooled her features into a mask of indifference. “I feared as much. Perhaps you will believe me now. Hector will never willingly relinquish the castle. Not for me, anyway.”

  This time, he didn’t argue with her.

  There was no reason to hold her now. “You will release me, then?”

  “No.”

  The flat refusal reverberated through her, shaking her to the core. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how important it was to her. She needed him to let her go so she could make her own choice on whether to stay. “But there is no other reason to keep me here.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stared at her. Ruthless and determined.

  Apprehension coiled inside her. There was only one reason to keep her. One that would confirm her worst fears. “You’ve changed your mind,” she said dully, barely able to get out the words. “You’ll force me to marry you.”

  He gave her another penetrating stare. “A few more minutes, and I would not have needed to force anything.”

  Flora gasped. Was that what he’d intended? To seduce her so that she would have to marry him? The blood drained from her face. She’d almost let him. “You bastard. How could you?”

  “I want you,” he said bluntly.

  “You don’t want me, you want what I can bring you,” she replied bitterly, unable to hide the despair in her voice. Her wealth, her connections, an end to the curse were all too tempting. He saw her not as a desirable woman, but as a marriage prize. Just like everyone else.

  He held her gaze steadily, and didn’t deny it. “When will you realize that none of this is your choice?”

  She flinched. How could he say something so cruel? She’d begun to trust him. She’d actually thought he might be someone she could…marry. Hot tears gathered behind her eyes and thickened her throat. “It is my choice. I’ve made it so.”

  “You are who you are, Flora. You can’t change that.”

  He didn’t understand. She grasped for a shred to hold on to, not wanting to believe she could have been so wrong. “Please don’t do this. Just let me go.” She might as well have been trying to melt granite. She wrapped her fingers around the hard muscle of his arm and squeezed. It didn’t give an inch. Impenetrable. Just like the rest of him.

  His face was a stony mask. “I can’t.”

  “Why?” Her voice broke.

  He looked away, and she could see the tic in his neck. The only sign that he was not completely unaffected.

  “Please.” She was begging now and trying to hold back the tears that threatened to storm at any moment. “Don’t hold me here. Let me go home.”

  “And where is home, Flora?”

  She made a strangled sound in her throat as his poisoned arrow struck its target. She didn’t have a home. She didn’t have anyone. Certainly not this cold, emotionless stranger. “Anywhere but here,” she whispered.

  His eyes softened for an instant. “Is it really so bad being here with me?”

  No. That was exactly the problem. She’d allowed herself to believe that he was different. Like a fool, she’d begun to trust him. The lessons of her mother’s life had been in vain. She’d thought she was impervious, but she was wrong. When she thought of what had nearly happened between them, how she’d nearly succumbed, her stomach turned. She had to get away from here, before she traded her soul for a moment of pleasure in his arms.

  “Let me go to Hector.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your brother will not protect you.”

  “And you will?”

  “With my life.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, she almost believed him. Fool.

  “Have care of Hector, Flora. Do not trust him.”

  Again she tried not to laugh at the bitter irony. “He is my brother. And unlike you, he doesn’t want anything from me.”

  Loathing for him, for herself, banished the hurt, leaving an aching emptiness in her chest. The cold residue of disillusionment.

  “A minute ago, you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” He slid his thumb across her mouth. “Has anything really changed?”

  And curse her traitorous body, she trembled. The rippling effect of his touch shuddered through her. Heart pounding, she jerked away, knowing that he knew exactly what he did to her. Her body wanted him. “You might succeed in seducing me.” For if she stayed much longer, it seemed inevitable. She gazed deep into his eyes so there would be no mistake. “But I will never agree to marry you.”

  He hardened himself against the urge to reach out to her again and simply let her go. This time. Though he was tempted to prove to her just how wrong she was.

  She was already his. She just didn’t know it yet. The moment he’d touched her, her fate had been sealed. If she thought she had any control over this undeniable force between them, she was only fooling herself. She didn’t know how powerful the yearnings of the body could be.

  But he did.

  Never had he wanted anything as badly as he wanted Flora. And he’d almost had her, but he’d been well caught in a trap of his own making. All thoughts of seduction, of coercing her into marrying him, had fallen to the wayside the moment he’d held her in his arms. When she’d pressed her soft body against him and opened her mouth to him so sweet and eager, something had imploded in his chest. His only thought had been to please her.

  He thought of how wet and hot she’d been, how her sweet little hips had pressed against his hand, how preciously close she’d been to release.

  He cursed the sudden rush of heat to his groin, his cock brought to quick life by the memories. His body still throbbed from the abrupt curtailment of their passion.

  Damn Hector.

  His heart skipped a beat at the sound of the door opening, thinking foolishly that it might be Flora coming back. But it was only his sister.

  “What happened?” Gilly asked anxiously. “I saw Flora rush out of here, looking close to tears.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Gilly. Go back to your chamber.”

  “Does it have something to do with the messenger I saw arriving earlier?”

  He frowned. It wasn’t like Gilly to ignore his instructions. Flora was having more of an influence over his sisters than he realized. And he didn’t like it. He was about to repeat his directive when Gilly placed her hand on his arm, an affectionate siste
rly gesture—and also, he realized, a rare one. When had his sisters stopped touching him? As girls, they always climbed all over him, giggling with some jest or prank.

  “Please, I’m not a child. I only want to help.”

  He gave her a long look, seeing the adorable face—no longer of a child, but of a young woman almost six and ten—and felt a sharp pang of melancholy. Of longing. How had it happened? How had his sisters grown up without his realizing it? He knew there was nothing he could have done to change it; he’d been consumed with fighting and protecting his clan. But that didn’t mean he did not regret that circumstances were not different. That he’d not had more time for his brother and sisters. Regret made all the more poignant by his brother’s imprisonment. But he would get him back.

  “Please,” Gilly repeated.

  Lachlan didn’t discuss clan business with his sisters, partially out of consideration for their innocence. He thought he was protecting them by keeping his troubles from them. But this time, he relented. A wry smile turned his mouth. His sisters, it seemed, weren’t the only ones affected by Flora MacLeod. “It was a message from Duart.”

  “Flora’s brother? But I didn’t think you really intended to write to him and propose the exchange?”

  “I didn’t.” He hadn’t sent Hector a letter at all. It had all been a ruse to buy him precious time for wooing his recalcitrant bride.

  “Then how did he find out so quickly that Flora was here?”

  He’d been wondering the same thing. He could only hope that Hector wouldn’t alert Rory. There would be hell to pay if the MacLeod discovered what Lachlan had done before he secured her agreement.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “But I intend to find out.” He didn’t want to consider that one of his own people could betray him. But who else would know? He’d have to think on it.

  “What did the note say?”

  He felt the anger flare inside him again. Hector’s jabs were petty but struck hard nonetheless. He pulled it out and handed it to her. Gilly unfolded it and handed it right back to him, her brows furrowed. “It’s in Scots.”