Highland Seer

by Willa Blair

  “Let’s get ye upstairs, lass,” Donal murmured into her hair and lifted her from her feet. Suddenly, he wanted to be away from Jamie and all the others—and alone with the woman in his arms. That had been too close a call. It was time to claim her as his.

  ****

  Ellie stood in her chamber, wrapped in the arms of the man she had feared would never return to her. The man in her dreams. The man who had saved her from the MacDuff. But would he stay to finish the job and protect her people from the vengeance that was sure to fall on them when word got back to the MacDuff keep of what had happened here tonight? He’d carried her up the stairs and now held her like he had no intention of ever leaving her again. Please, God, let that be true.

  She shifted in his arms and looked up at him. His ice-green eyes were watching her. The tilt of his lips gave her hope. They almost formed a smile.

  “Are ye better, lass?”

  “No’ quite yet. I need ye to hold me for a few moments more.”

  Donal tightened his grip and smoothed one hand up and down her back. “I canna complain about that. Ye were very braw today, lass. I’ll hold ye as long as ye like.”

  Ellie held her breath. “Forever? Would ye do that?”

  He tensed. His heartbeat accelerated against her chest. Then he kissed her hair and his thigh caressed her hip as he hugged her closer. “I came back to ye. I couldna get ye out of my mind...or my heart. Yer idea is seeming better and better each time I think on it.”

  Ellie’s mouth fell open and her brows drew down. “I canna believe what I just heard.”

  “Believe it,” Donal said, chuckling against her ear. “We’ll send for that priest Jamie brought. If he’s a real one, unlike yer friar, then we have another job for him to do.”

  “No’ yet,” Ellie murmured, arcing up into Donal’s embrace. “I need ye now, Donal. Ye must take the memory of Lachlan’s hands on me and replace it with yer touch.”

  “If we do this, Ellie, there’s nay goin’ back.” He tipped her chin up. “Ye ken that, aye?”

  “’Tis what I want, Donal. Ye ken that. I’ve tried to tell ye, many times.”

  “And many times I fought ye.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d done that.

  “No’ this time, Donal. The time for fighting is over. I need ye and want ye. But most important, I love ye.” She cupped his face, forcing him to concentrate on her words. “I shouldha said it sooner. Ye are the man in the Seeing, the one meant for me. I’ve nay doubt of it, nor of ye. But even if ye werena, it wouldna matter. I love ye.”

  “I’ve had a hard time accepting that, lass, though I’ve wanted ye since I first saw ye.” He kissed her palms. “But I do love ye, Ellie. More than ye ken. I meant what I said. I no longer wish to fight with ye on this. I’ll marry ye, and gladly.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. I’ll say it as often as ye like. I love ye and I wish to marry ye. Tonight.”

  Ellie stroked his face. “Later, Donal. No’ tonight. Tomorrow.”

  Just before his mouth claimed hers, his eyes grew dark with a bright-green ring, the kind of green that preceded the most furious summer storms. He pulled her tight against his hard body as his tongue plundered her mouth. Her blood heated in her veins. She slid her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his shaggy hair. Then his hand slipped between them to fondle her breasts and unlace her dress. The heat of his palm seared her through the cloth and her nipples tightened in response to his touch. He’d done this that night in the solar, and then stopped. Would he stop now? Nay, he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.

  Ellie kissed him back with all the passion she had in her. It had been so long since she’d felt like this, and Donal had been a temptation she’d yearned for since he’d arrived. He’d thought he wasn’t good enough for her. Daft man. She wanted only him, and she intended to spend the rest of their lives together proving it. She’d never thought to love again, never really had loved, not like this. This was brighter, fiercer, than what she’d shared with her husband. Every breath she took belonged to Donal. She craved him all the more.

  She slid her hands down his shoulders and chest to his waist. His belly tightened under her hands as she unbuckled the leather circling his body and dropped the belt to the floor. She pulled his shirt free of his trews and ran her hands under it, up to his chest, tracing his scars with her fingertips. Donal groaned. Ellie smiled, pleased at his response. God, it had been so long since she’d touched a man this way. So familiar and yet so new. Donal’s body was nothing like her husband’s, who had been a younger, thinner man. Donal’s muscles told the story of his life with every ridge and ripple, all heat and hard sinew, scarred and battle hewn, now bent on conquering her. Aye, he’d win this battle, too, and many more like it. Ellie exulted in the freedom to touch and taste and smell this man.

  The heat radiating from his body nearly singed her palms, but she’d waited too long for this to let that deter her. She kept them on his skin, slipping her fingers across the tiny nubs of his nipples while her tongue dueled with his.

  Suddenly he pulled her hands free and lifted her kirtle over her head. Surprised, she laughed. At that, he stripped his shirt off and kicked his boots away. He reached for her, then stopped as Ellie looked up at him through her lashes, coyly playing with the ties to her shift, the only thing between her body and Donal’s sight. She studied the muscular planes of his arms, chest, and belly. He was magnificently built, still browned by the summer sun and hardened by hours of weapons play—and battles for his life, his laird, and his adopted clan, judging by the many scars on his arms, shoulders, and chest. But the leather trews, straining against the bulging flesh beneath them, had to go. Soon.

  His eyes narrowed. His gaze bored into her, watching her fingers deftly untie the string at her collarbones and stretch the gathered neckline wide. She waited a moment, holding the garment to her breasts, enjoying the beat of the pulse at his throat, the gathering frown of frustration on his brow. She’d never thought to enjoy his frown, but this one, aye. She crooked up one side of her mouth in amusement and invitation. Then she let go and the shift drifted to the floor, leaving her naked before him.

  Donal’s eyes widened as he looked her up and down. His smile as his gaze returned to hers told her what she needed to know. It was true and real. A smile, not his usual quirk of his lips. Of appreciation. Of her. The last straw. She could wait no longer. She reached out and unlaced his trews, shoving them down his hips and freeing the engorged member they had contained. “Ellie,” Donal groaned as he kicked them the rest of the way off.

  “It’s time, Donal,” she told him. “Past time.” She stepped into his embrace and gripped his tight buttocks, reveling in the hard length searing her belly. “I want ye to take me. Make me yers. Forever.”

  Donal’s oath was wrenched from the depths of his soul. He pulled her upward onto her toes and covered her mouth with his hungry one. His cock nestled against her curls. Close, so close. But she wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her. Her womb clenched and wept its frustrated need to the point of pain.

  But nay. His mouth left a trail of kisses down her throat to her breasts. Ellie cried out as the sensation of hot, wet pressure from Donal’s lips and tongue arced from her nipples to her core. She gasped, lifting her chest, demanding more as he licked and suckled.

  Then he dropped to his knees and kissed his way down her belly to the juncture of her thighs.

  Ellie’s knees buckled. Donal scooped her up and carried her to the bed, depositing her gently onto the covers at the edge. She reached for him.

  “Take me, Donal, please.”

  He grinned. Grinned! “No’ yet, love. There’s more of ye I wish to explore before I do.”

  Ellie lifted onto her elbows and eyed his rampant cock. “Truly? It’s been years since I’ve seen a man thus, aye, but ’twould seem to me ye’re more than ready.”

  In answer, Donal knelt before her and urged her legs apart. He licked the inside of h
er knee. Then her thigh. Then the other thigh. Ellie’s head fell back onto the bed. He worked his way slowly upward, dropping kisses and nipping with the edge of his teeth until Ellie was writhing in anticipation, head thrown back, eyes closed. She heard him inhale and softly sigh just before his tongue stroked her core and she nearly leapt off the bed. Lightning raced through her veins. Her eyes flew open.

  “Like that, do ye?”

  “Do it again if ye wish to ken.”

  Donal bent to obey her and the lightning came back, coursing from her core out to her fingertips, heating her blood to boiling. Her toes curled as Donal licked and sipped, slipping two fingers inside her and running the tips along the front of her sheath.

  Ellie broke into a thousand pieces, crying out as she shattered. Donal continued his intimate caress while he kissed and licked her nub until she finally stopped writhing. Then he withdrew his fingers and teased her with his tongue once more before kneeling over her.

  “Now, my Laird, it’s time.”

  ****

  Donal leaned over Ellie’s beautiful body. He could barely believe he was here, but her scent lingered in his nose, her taste on his tongue, and his gaze feasted on her flushed skin.

  Nay, she was no virgin. He was glad she would be a willing partner, even this first time, rather than frozen with fear and dread of what was to come. But she was a woman untouched for years, though she’d responded to his kisses and caresses even more ardently than he’d believed possible. He vowed he would care for her as he had cared for no other.

  Aye, she was beautiful. She was also strong and brave and wise—and his. Or would be in moments. He paused to savor the idea. This amazing woman was about to become his. Wanted to be his. Had asked, tried to seduce, all but begged to be his.

  He’d been a fool. Too certain her station put her so far above his that he could never be a match for her. Too loyal to a clan that valued him highly, though he knew Toran and Aileana would cheer to see him happy and would never stand in his way. Too stubborn in his beliefs to accept the love she offered. Aye, a fool. But no longer. Ellie would be his, and he hers. And her clan’s. They needed him now more than the Aerie did. There was no question about that. And this fierce, proud, wild woman wanted him by her side—forever. How could he refuse? He’d learned his lesson. It had taken a close call—a crack on the head by Lowlander bandits and nearly arriving too late to save Ellie from the MacDuff’s rough clutches, but in the end, he’d done what he set out to do. He’d kept her safe. Now he had to make her forget her fear and loathing for the man who’d meant to claim her without her consent. He’d love her pain away. Love joy back into her heart, possibly for the first time since she’d become laird. He’d help carry her burdens, lighten her load, and keep her people safe. Or he’d die trying.

  But now was no time to think about dying. Life awaited him. Life and a future he relished, with this woman at his side. He had been awed to give her release, to hold her trust and love in his hands and know she’d allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable, to make her that vulnerable. Aye, she needed him, and wanted him. It was a gift that humbled him.

  And made him crazed. Taking a deep breath, Donal stretched out on the bed and pulled Ellie into his arms. They had time enough to take this slowly, though he craved their joining more than anything he’d ever wanted. Sated, she lay her head on his shoulder and her palm on his chest, lightly running her fingertips across his nipple, shooting fire down his belly and making his cock vibrate with need.

  He pulled her onto his chest so he could kiss her thoroughly. Instead of merely allowing his kiss, Ellie straddled him, resting her bottom against his straining shaft. It was all he could do to keep himself under control as she bent to kiss him, brushing her nipples across his chest as she moved.

  Donal’s chest rose to meet her as his mouth claimed hers again and again. Then he lifted her up and suckled, first one firm breast, then the other, making Ellie groan and writhe. Donal could wait no longer. He urged Ellie’s bottom up and guided her over his shaft.

  “Ach, aye, there. ’Tis up to ye how it goes,” he told her, expecting her to slide slowly over his erection, taking and testing little by little. Instead, she slid down and seated him fully within her moist heat, wrenching an oath from Donal that originated in his balls.

  Then she started moving, lifting and lowering until he could no more hold still than stop breathing. His hips rocked and set their rhythm while her gaze bored into his, questing, loving, challenging. Aye, she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Paying him back for all the times he’d refused her. Showing him what he’d missed. Making him lose control as he had done to her in the moments before this. The bigger he got, the more she clamped down on him, wrapping him like a glove, squeezing until there was no room left in his mind, his heart, his soul, for anything but her. He erupted, and as he lost himself in the wave of sensation, he saw Ellie smile.

  She stretched out on his chest, still holding him within her body, until he came back to himself.

  “We’re to be like that?” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “Tinder and a spark into flames fit to burn down the keep?”

  “Oh, aye, I hope so,” Ellie replied, scooting down a bit to keep him fully within her.

  With a growl, Donal rolled them until he lay on top, up to the hilt in her moist heat, ready again. Then he moved, just once, out then back in, and Ellie arched to meet him, her breasts an offering he couldn’t refuse. He bent to suckle while he built their rhythm then kissed his way up her throat to her luscious mouth. She gripped his backside, pulling him deeper into her body, her nails scoring his skin. He rocked them, capturing her breath with his own, until she gasped out his name and came apart under him. Only then did he explode, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him as if she were the only thing that would keep him connected to this earth.

  Chapter 21

  Laird’s justice. That’s what the clan called it. Ellie hoped she had the wherewithal to dispense it fairly and without rancor. Micheil stood by her side in the great hall. Donal, not yet officially the MacKyrie consort, stood across from her and to one side, with Jamie nearby, lending his calm presence to this difficult and distasteful undertaking. She must interrogate the lads on duty and make them admit who had opened the gates two nights ago. Two nights? Aye, one spent in fear and loathing, anticipating the worst from Lachlan MacDuff. And last night? Ach, how different could two nights, two men, be?

  She and Donal had loved each other, explored and learned and teased and, oh, her face must be flaming. Jamie had a very amused grin on his face. Donal had started to fidget under Jamie’s sidelong scrutiny. Imagine that. Donal fidgeting. If she wasn’t seated in front of her entire clan as laird, she might have laughed. But, aye, Jamie kenned why she blushed. And Donal paid the price for her lack of control. Not that he could complain, having lost his control so completely last night. Her soon-to-be husband. Ach, stop!

  As unpleasant as this might be, she had to keep her thoughts on the task at hand. She dared not glance Donal’s way again.

  Laird! She must be laird. So she would.

  The door opened then and half a dozen lads trooped in. Older lads, who had been subject to Donal’s tutelage and were now subject to their laird’s justice. If it be called for. She hoped not. Why would they have opened the secured gate, unless an adult had told them to do it? But who? No one had come forward in the time since the MacDuff and his men had taken over the keep, and none since they’d been vanquished—killed, or turned out with weapons to defend themselves but without mounts, to carry the news back to their clan on foot. They would get there, but it would take them days.

  She hid her clenched fist in the folds of her skirt. These lads must be made to understand they could not protect the person who’d done this terrible thing. The consequences had been too dire, and save for the Lathans, would have meant her death and the destruction of her clan, if not right away, then eventually. The person who’d ordered the gate
opened had conspired with the MacDuff and betrayed his laird and his clan. The penalty was death. She must force herself to impose it.

  Donal had wanted the wedding right away, this morning, but she had to do this first. Before the MacDuffs returned to avenge their losses, she had to know who in her clan could betray her. Only then could she and the clan put MacDuff’s invasion behind them and move forward to a happy occasion like a wedding. The laird’s wedding. She fought back a smile at the thought of it. Her wedding—to the man she loved and wanted. But nay, she must clear this worry from her mind before joining with Donal. The doubt and the anger plaguing her now would have prevented the sacred joy a wedding in the kirk—a true wedding in the kirk—deserved.

  She had to deal with the betrayer, and the pain of betrayal, first.

  The lads stood in a group before her. Silent, solemn. Did they know why they were here? Had Micheil told them? Or merely summoned them to their laird’s presence? She glanced his way. Micheil nodded, but said nothing. It was not his place to do so.

  Rather, he bowed to her and went to the lads. Ach, of course, as captain of the guard, he bore responsibility for the watch. Ellie approved of his honorable act, standing with the lads. She saw Fergus’s nod from his place near the hearth. Then another thought occurred to her. Did Micheil stand with them to share their punishment because he was the one who had ordered the gate opened? Her breath froze in her throat. Not Micheil. He would not have betrayed her. He loved her. He’d been her friend all her life. Tried to defend her from the MacDuff and been wounded for his efforts.

  But what if he was the one she sought? He had tried to convince her to consider the MacDuff. Had he been in league with MacDuff the whole time? Could she order the death of her oldest friend? She swallowed. Ellie could not. Laird MacKyrie might have to.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Donal shift his weight. She tore her gaze from Micheil to glance his way. He studied the lads and Micheil as if trying to scry the truth from their faces and postures before they said a word. Had the same horrible thought crossed his mind? He knew Micheil’s worth to her.