Highlander Unchained

by Monica McCarty

  He led her through the trees to the small loch. It was exactly as he remembered it. Surrounded by jagged rocks and filled by a burn that led from the mountains, the circular pool was no bigger than a hundred feet in diameter. There was something magical about the place. Without a doubt it was picturesque, with its clear blue green waters, black jagged rocks, and lush emerald green backdrop; but there was more to it than that.

  He heard Flora draw in her breath. She turned to him. “It’s beautiful. What is it called?”

  “The Faerie Pool.”

  He half expected her to laugh at the superstitions of the Highlanders who’d given the loch its name, but instead she nodded in agreement. “It suits. I feel like I’m in another world.”

  Her response pleased him in a way he couldn’t have imagined. The acknowledgment of the beauty of his land seemed of strange importance. It was as if she were finally relinquishing her old prejudices about the Highlands. She could be happy here. He told himself he would do whatever it took to make her so.

  After helping her down, he tended to the horses, giving her time to accustom herself to the place. When he was finished, he removed a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a flagon of claret from his pack, spread out his plaid on the ground, and invited her to sit. She eyed him nervously but did as he instructed. They ate in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of nature blooming all around them. The song of the skylark, the rustle of the wind through the leaves, the gentle trickle of the burn over the rocks as it drained into the loch. He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching her. Entranced by the way her hair curled around her temple in the heat, the way the sun warmed her pale complexion, the dainty way she ate, and the way she held the flagon to her lips for just a moment too long, betraying her increasing nervousness.

  It was time.

  He dragged himself to his feet and held out his hand. “Ready?”

  She looked up at him, the green flecks in her sea blue eyes even more prominent in the stark sunlight. “I haven’t finished—”

  He gave her an encouraging smile. “It won’t get any easier by delay. Come. There is nothing to be scared of.” He looked around meaningfully. “What could go wrong on a day like this?”

  A number of unpleasant things came to mind. But rather than voice them, Flora took a deep breath and slid her icy hand into his, drawing immediate strength from the warm, callused palm.

  She trusted him. The truth was undeniable. Enough to brave the water and face her darkest fears.

  He helped her to her feet and indicated a large boulder near the mouth of the burn. “You can change over there.”

  She did as he instructed, making sure to take her time. Her fingers were stiff and shaky as she removed the simple stays that tied in front and the wool gown, both of which she’d borrowed from Mary, grateful for the way it untied at the sides to lift over her head. She couldn’t have done it by herself otherwise, and she didn’t think she could take the feel of his fingers on her right now. She was ready to jump out of her skin. And it wasn’t just the prospect of getting in the water that was putting her on edge.

  It was Lachlan.

  Something new and poignant had sprung up between them. An ease, a familiarity…an intimacy that had filled her with a deep sense of contentment. By giving her freedom, he’d changed everything. Turning from jailer to suitor in the bat of an eye. Opening up a world of possibilities.

  He cleared his throat impatiently. Realizing he was going to come looking for her if she delayed any longer, she stepped out from behind her impromptu dressing chamber.

  His brow lifted when he saw her.

  She glanced down at the trews and linen shirt that she’d worn under her gown, relieved to see that she was decent. Mostly. “Murdoch borrowed it from your squire,” she explained.

  His gaze traveled down the length of her, lingering at her breasts stretching against the tight linen, her hips in the wool trews, to her naked calves and the tips of her bare toes. She saw the heat in his gaze for an instant, before he doused it with a chuckle. “Those clothes don’t look quite the same on you.”

  A flush rose to her cheeks at the obvious admiration in his voice.

  Admiration that she returned wholeheartedly. He’d removed his shirt and boots and wore only his trews, which hung low on his hips, emphasizing the hard lines of his impressively muscled stomach. A warm, sultry feeling came over her just looking at him. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the sight of his naked chest. The vast array of finely sculpted muscle. The strength and overwhelming masculinity. The sheer beauty of his form.

  Realizing that she’d been staring, she shifted her gaze to the loch. “It looks cold,” she said, rubbing her arms. “Perhaps we should wait a little while. Until it warms up a bit.”

  “It’s one of the hottest days of the year, the water will be as tepid as a bath,” he said patiently. “It will be fine.” He offered her his hand. “Come now, lass. No more delays.”

  His voice was adamant but surprisingly gentle. She could try, but she knew in the end he would not be gainsaid. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the water’s edge. Her feet felt weighed down with lead, each step on the rocky dirt path a battle against the overwhelming urge to turn and run. Sensing her building trepidation, he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  Too soon, they reached the soft muddy bank. Not letting go of her hand, he took a few steps into the water and turned around to face her. “Breathe, lass,” he said softly. “One step at a time.”

  She shook her head, the breath stuck in her throat. She couldn’t. Fear had taken hold. It was just as she’d described before. The panic had wrapped itself around her like a vise. “I d-d-on’t think I can do this,” she stuttered, looking at him wildly.

  “The Holyrood hellion admitting defeat? Is this the same girl who once scaled parapets?” he teased. “What would your friends at court say?”

  She scowled at his attempt to prick her pride. “I know very well what you are doing. It won’t work.”

  He shrugged none too innocently. The look on his face was so out of character, she nearly laughed. Nearly. Until she looked down at the water looming only inches from her feet.

  “Don’t look at the water. Look at me.”

  She did as he directed, gazing deep into the steady strength of his piercing blue eyes. God, he was incredible. So handsome that he made her insides flip.

  The distraction worked. Her pulse slowed, and the tightness constricting her chest released a little. Clasping both her hands, he coaxed her gently into the loch.

  At the first touch of the cool water on her toes, she gasped, pulling back instinctively.

  He murmured soothing words in lilting Erse, the confidence in his gaze and voice giving her much needed courage.

  She shivered as they waded waist deep into the water. Her skin prickled, the tiny hairs on her arms standing straight up. Chilled not from the water, which was pleasantly cool, but from the fear surging through her veins.

  He sensed her distress and brought her closer against his chest, wrapping her firmly in his arms and allowing the heat of his body to take the chill from her skin.

  “You are doing beautifully, my sweet.”

  It didn’t feel like it; she felt like a quivering mess. But she had made it this far.

  “I’m just going to lower you a bit more into the water. Are you ready?”

  “Isn’t this deep enough?” Her voice quivered noticeably.

  “We won’t go any deeper, but you can’t learn to swim standing like this. My arms will be around you the entire time, all right?”

  She nodded, and he slowly lowered them into the water, cradling her against him, until he was on his knees and the water lapped around her shoulders. He’d positioned her so that he held her by her waist and chest and her feet floated out to the side. She fought the nausea as the memories took hold, of the suffocating darkness, of the water filling her nose and mouth.

  She couldn’
t do this. She had to get out of here.

  Panic erupted, and she flailed wildly, trying to stand up. But his arms held her close.

  “Let me go!” she gasped.

  “Shhh…” he said softly. “I have you. You are perfectly safe.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. He didn’t understand. Look at him—he was a rock. He’d probably never felt a moment of fear in his life. This was so humiliating. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

  She buried her face against his warm neck and clasped his broad shoulders, her entire body shaking, his solid strength an iron tether to hold on to. He simply held her, easing her panic with the soft caress of his hand on her back. His hand slid down her side to her hips. To her bottom. And achingly close to between her legs. His touch was feather soft and deftly arousing. She stopped shaking. He stroked her until her body softened and the water no longer felt like a pool of lead, but lighter and freer—like a cloud. Until the panic receded and she couldn’t think of anything but his hands on her skin.

  They were so close, his mouth was only inches from hers. She was achingly aware of her breasts plastered against his chest. The drenched fabric of her shirt was an insignificant barrier to the wide expanse of powerful muscle.

  There was nothing decent about her garments now. Nothing of her shape was hidden from his view. And though he was taking pains not to make her self-conscious, she knew he was very aware of it as well.

  “Is that better?” he murmured against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver again.

  She wanted nothing more than to dissolve against him. Her body felt warm and languid, but also aroused and aching for his touch. Which was exactly what he’d intended. She eyed him. The rogue. But there was some consolation. If the strain on his face was any indication, he was not unaffected.

  “Yes,” she answered. “It is better. Your teaching method is somewhat unconventional, but effective.” She shifted against him, not surprised to feel the hard length of his erection nudging her bottom. Good, he was just as aroused as she. “And dangerous.”

  His fingers trailed down the curve of her spine. A teasing stroke when she wanted pressure. “Aye,” he admitted. “Very dangerous.”

  Realizing she’d best put an end to this perilous game, she lifted her gaze back to his. “What’s next?”

  The passion still burned in his gaze. A simmering threat or a promise, she didn’t know.

  “The next part you must do on your own. I want you to dip your chin in the water, up to your nose, keeping your mouth closed. You will still be able to breathe through your nose. Like this.” He demonstrated.

  Her eyes widened. She wanted to refuse, but he was right: She would never learn to swim and always be vulnerable if she kept allowing fear to win.

  Which, of course, was easier said than done. She tried three times, but each time the water started to close over her mouth, her head seemed to jerk up of its own volition.

  He held her hands, murmuring little encouragements, but it didn’t help.

  She looked at him hopelessly. “It’s no use. I can’t do it.”

  He tipped her chin with his finger so that he was looking right into her eyes. “Your fear will not go away in one day, lass. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve already made great progress.”

  “You’re not disappointed in me?” She bit her lip. “I know you’re busy, and I haven’t proved a very apt student.”

  A lazy smile curved his wide, sensual mouth. A mouth that teased and spoke of so many unknown pleasures. “Rather the opposite. I look forward to more lessons. I can’t imagine a more”—he slid his hand down the curve of her hip—“delightful pupil.”

  Flora’s cheeks warmed. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “Every minute,” he admitted unabashedly. “Would you like to try one more time?” His mouth moved just a fraction of an inch closer. She felt the warm spice of his breath on her cheek. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Her pulse spiked, but not with fear. Every nerve ending was ragged with anticipation. She would agree to anything, if only he would kiss her.

  “What did you have in mind?” she breathed.

  “Another wee distraction.”

  His dark voice seeped into her bones. She shivered as his hand slid achingly close to her breast. He could reach out and stroke her with his thumb.

  He was driving her mad with his touch. With his gentle teasing. All she could think about was his mouth on hers, his hands covering her body and appeasing the wicked sensations firing through her body.

  “Concentrate on my mouth.”

  I am. Dear God, I can think of nothing else. She could almost taste the warm spiciness of his breath. She nodded, her body drumming with desire.

  He covered her mouth with his, and her heart slammed into her chest. Slowly, he lowered her under the water and then back up. It was just for a moment, but it worked.

  He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes right into his. Her face lit with accomplishment. “I did it!”

  He returned her smile. “You did. Well done, lass. It won’t be long before you are swimming like one of the Maighdean na Tuinne.”

  She wrapped her hands around his neck, looking deep into those incredible blue eyes. She loved the way the light reflected off the rare strand of gold hidden deep in the chestnut of his hair. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said softly.

  He pulled her to her feet to stand before him, so that she was stretched against the long length of him. The evidence of his desire pulsed hard against her stomach. His hand slid up to cup her breast, and a wave of delicious heat poured through her. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, and a rush of sensation spread between her legs. She felt as though she were breaking apart, just from his touch.

  “A kiss,” he said, his mouth a hairbreadth from hers. “You can thank me with a kiss.”

  A kiss wouldn’t be enough. Not for her. Her body ached for his touch. For his possession. She wanted him. Enough to throw caution to the wind. She knew well what she risked. But her virginity had never been a sacred object for her. Indeed, it only made her a more valuable marriage prize. In truth, she’d do well to be rid of it. But until she’d met the Laird of Coll, there had never been a man she’d wanted enough to risk the censure.

  By rousing her curiosity, he’d already shattered her innocence. Since that day in the laird’s chamber when he’d stroked her body, bringing her to the point of something cataclysmic and beautiful. Something that set her body on edge every time he touched her. Something that needed to be satisfied. Maybe then she could think clearly.

  Flora had never been one to allow consequences to rule her actions. She wanted him, and there was nothing to prevent her from having him. She wanted the culmination of the closeness she’d felt in his bed. The intimacy of sharing her body with this man. Instinctively, she knew he was keeping something from her, holding back a part of himself. This would bring them closer, and then maybe he would confide in her.

  Rising on her tiptoes, she offered herself with a kiss. Never having attempted to seduce a man before, she acted solely on instinct. A slow drag of the lips, a wicked dart of the tongue along the seam of his mouth, a soft nuzzle of her cheek against the coarse scrape of his jaw. She pressed her body against his enticingly and ever so slightly brushed up and down against him, circling her hips against his erection and raking her nipples against his naked chest. Telling him in every way possible—except with words—that she wanted him.

  He stood stone still, seemingly unaffected. But she could feel the furious pounding of his heart against hers.

  She drew back and looked into the violent maelstrom of his gaze. “Will that suffice?”

  She could see the pulse in his neck as he fought for control. “Yes.” His voice was strained and ragged. “That will do just fine.”

  But it wasn’t enough for her. Emboldened, she brought her hand between them and trailed her fingers across the ridges of his stomach muscles, the heel of her hand brushing ove
r the heavy round head of his erection, which just broke through the edge of the water. “Are you sure?”

  “Flora,” he hissed. But she ignored the warning and covered him with her hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around his thickness. He swore. She could see the strain in his body, the tautness of his shoulders, the flex of his arms at his side. She felt empowered, relishing the exquisite sensation of harnessing such powerful masculinity in her hand. She felt bold and wicked as she touched him with her fingers. He allowed her to explore him, but she could see the toll it was taking on him. Every muscle in his body pulsed with restraint. But when she squeezed him lightly, dragging her hand down the long length of him, he snapped.

  He pulled her against him and kissed her with the passion that had struggled to break free, sliding his tongue in her mouth, claiming her in the most basic way. He kissed her long and hard, with a dark carnality that hinted at the erotic pleasures to come.

  She was drawn to the dangerous intensity that threatened just under the surface of this man. Sensing in him something similar in herself. The very thing that had made her touch him so boldly. A wild, base sensuality that was only waiting to be unleashed. Making love with Lachlan Maclean would be raw and powerful. And like a moth to the flame, she was helpless to fight the pull of attraction.

  His mouth was on her neck, her breasts in his hands. Cupping her. Pinching her nipples lightly until she writhed in innocent frustration against him. The scratch of his beard on her skin as his mouth trailed down her neck drove her mad. She felt ready to explode. Impatient to discover all the pleasure he had in store.

  Her hands splayed across the muscles of his back, feeling the tension waiting to be unharnessed. Her legs went weak with her need of him.

  He’d untied her shirt, and his mouth had found the tops of her breasts. Her skin was so hot, every kiss blazing a fiery path in its wake. His tongue flicked her taut nipple, and the teasing, gyrating movements increased her frenzy. When he finally took her in his mouth, a sound of raw pleasure escaped from between her lips. She arched her back as he sucked her harder. Plying her nipple with the gentle tug of his teeth and tongue. She writhed helplessly, pressing urgently against his erection. Cradling him between the apex of her legs. At her very core.