Sweet, stinging pleasure washed over her as she watched Colin from beneath lazy lashes. He was feeling her throb around him, cherishing the moment, the tight, stroking grasps and clenches.
As the rain fell, the summer storm mixed together the poignant smell of flowers with the musky scent of desire. Colin, chest rising and falling as rapidly as hers, released a low, primal growl. His steady rhythm, his intoxicating scent, his soul connecting with hers, she couldn’t take anymore, it was all too much.
Her body was alive with sensation, but she didn’t have the strength to hold herself up. Sated, exhausted, she went limp in Colin’s arms. He used brute strength to hoist her up. When she flailed, he grabbed her wrists against the wall and executed a jaw-dropping display of strength and agility. Tossed by the thrust of his hips, she slid up and right back down his rigid length. Every muscle in her body locked and sucked him closer. Sure, steady, even, he forced her into a rhythm that had the muscles in her legs turning to jelly.
“I can’t,” she tried to say.
Never stopping he nipped her earlobe, his hot breath tickling her ear. “You can, lass.”
Only a sheer bit of her dress and Colin’s hands kept the harsh abrasion of the stone wall from scraping her vulnerable skin. McKayla bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. He did nothing to protect her from the elements, but did everything to force her to feel him, their surroundings, the harshness combined with the passion. Everything. Every last bit came alive, had life and feeling. This is what it felt like to be possessed by someone. To not just have sex, but to truly make love with your mind, body and soul.
His thrusts came faster, deeper, with a drive and challenge she found herself eager to meet. Renewed, invigorated, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled her legs up high, forcing him deeper still. As fast and wild as the storm, they rose together, thrust after delicious thrust until a throb started deep inside her womb. With a roar, Colin thrust one last time and fell against her. Crying out in response, her whole body seemed to both implode and explode at the same moment. Her belly cramped then burst, pleasure zig-zagging everywhere. Even her teeth tingled when sensation after sensation blew through every last unmapped corner of her being.
Time ceased. Immeasurable, unending, it just stopped.
There was only him and her and…this.
When she returned to awareness it was to find him kneeling, forehead against the wall beside her. She turned her face to him and licked the rainwater from her lips.
“I don’t think your clan will think too highly of me for doing this out in the open.”
Colin turned his head and chuckled. “Lass, you’re with the MacLomain clan. ‘Tis a wee bit o’ good gossip you just created. And naught is more appreciated.”
Her face heated. “How can I go back in there? Look at me. I’m soaking wet. They’ll know exactly what happened out here.”
A devilish twinkle entered his eyes. “These walls have eyes, lassie. You’ll not escape a good tale around a campfire. In the right crowd of course.”
McKayla leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. “You know, I would’ve written what happened exactly like this. Only I don’t think I could have done it justice.”
“Aye.” He grinned and leaned back. “You do have a gift for portraying us highlanders, but this that just happened was extraordinary. ‘Twill be hard to recreate it. But have no doubt, I will.”
She smiled, wholly aware of their intimate position. “Do you really think I have a gift?”
“Aye, you know that I do.”
Her smile widened as he pulled her closer.
“As much as I would like to stay like this forever,” Colin said, lifting her into his arms. “We need to get back to the celebration.”
“I can stand on my own two feet you know.”
Colin winked. “That’s doubtful.”
Cocky! But right now it was half his charm. “So you can’t change my clothes with magic. What about drying them.”
Colin sat on the bench and hit the wall. The door slid out. He eyed the damp dress clinging to her skin. “Nay. ‘Tis not a gift that is mine.” He tilted his head to the side and smirked. “Besides, I’m enjoying the view.”
“Colin,” she admonished. “I can’t go back in there looking like this. You have to do something!”
Rubbing her fingers together, she frowned and looked at the Claddagh ring.
“What?” he asked, concerned.
“I was just thinking…” She raised her eyes to meet his. “About what Seth said about the ring.”
Colin took her hand. “‘Tis of no concern. Seth is not part of the MacLomain, Broun connection. He couldnae create something that would interrupt it.”
She stared at it, unsure. “It burns a bit.”
Colin went to touch it but stopped. “His magic protects it somehow but it willnae harm you. I would sense it otherwise. Knowing Seth, he’s probably attached something to it that gives you a little sting when you’re with me.”
Now that would make sense.
“Should I try to take it off again?”
“Nay,” he said without pause. “Seth is trying to protect you. And somehow the ring is doing just that. That is one thing I’ll give the lad.”
McKayla didn’t want to discuss it any further. Right now, she was more worried about trying to make herself look somewhat presentable. Talking about Seth and Trevor would only give her a headache. No good would come of it. Not now anyway.
They left the hidden garden and stepped out into the torch lined hallway. Colin walked around her, tucking and smoothing. “Almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
It was hard not to feel giddy. With his wet hair slicked back, he appeared as handsome and fit as ever, way too attractive. “Oh aye,” he reported. “The dress that is. If I remember correctly, you’re a wee lass who will always look better with nothing on at all.”
A blush warmed her cheeks.
He inhaled deeply and looked back the way they’d originally come. “Though I’d rather head directly to our chamber I suppose we must join them.”
Their chamber. Right. That would take some getting used to. McKayla nodded. “I suppose so.”
Hand in hand they walked a few steps before he stopped, clearly uncomfortable about something. “This has been a lot. How are you lassie?”
McKayla looked toward the hallway’s exit then at him. “Actually, I’m doing okay.” She tucked hair behind her ear, more aware of him than ever. “Really okay…in…” Her whole body was still tingling from their time together. “A super good way.” She tucked hair behind her other ear and worked to keep her eyes locked on his. “Epic sort of good.”
God, I’m acting like a teenager!
But he’d brought out the magic in her.
“Good.” His brows arched. “Great!” They continued to walk and nearly reached the courtyard when he stopped again. This time he was frowning. “There’s more, McKayla.”
“Okay,” she said and waited.
Colin cleared his throat. “As it turns out when I left a lass at the altar all those years ago she wasn’t quite…left at the altar.”
A strange sort of trepidation slithered over her skin and she wasn’t sure she liked it. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Where was she left then?”
“Well, technically at the altar. But as it turned out not alone for long.” He glanced outside and sighed before his eyes met hers. “She ended up marrying Malcolm. Nessa MacLeod lives right here in the MacLomain castle.”
Chapter Nine
McKayla put her hands on her hips then by her side then back on her hips, staring outside then back at him several times before she said, “Are you serious?”
“Verra,” he said solemnly, waiting for her to get upset. While he knew he should’ve told her earlier so much was going on. Then when it wasn’t…it was again. Between becoming laird, marrying the love of his life then having sex with her for the first time in this form, telling her about Nessa was the la
st thing on his mind.
Even now when he knew he should feel guilty for not telling her, all he could think about was how bloody amazing she’d felt against the wall, in his arms, surrounding him. Her dainty little body had suffered for taking this version of him but she’d done it. All of him. He’d never know how but they fit. And they would until the day he died. Over and over and over again.
“Colin?”
Hell. She’d been saying something. Shutting out visions of her open, panting lips and fluttering eyelids when he thrust into her, Colin said, “Aye.”
“Aye, what?” McKayla shook her head. “You were a million miles away.”
“Nay, right here. Just mulling things over.”
McKayla shook her head. “No, you were thinking about something else. How could you drop a bombshell like that then ignore me?”
He was about to respond but she cut him off. “You did that at home too. I’d be talking to you and you’d drift off. Where do you go? I always thought it was a techie thing…” Her voice trailed, caught between the past and present. After a few deep breaths, her bonnie light gray eyes settled firmly on him. “Were you ever really a techie? Did you create that kilt-wearing flashlight with your hands or with your magic?”
“Hands,” he responded, insulted. “I might be a wizard but in the twenty-first century I enjoyed creating things. Loved the challenge.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’d like to think so. A person’s passions in life make up a great deal about who they are and without that…”
Oh no. McKayla only rambled like this when she was upset. Nessa must have hit her harder than he thought. Colin pulled her into his arms and murmured in her ear, “She means less than nothing to me or I would have never left her at the altar. You need to know that.”
McKayla shook her head and pulled back. “You misunderstand. I don’t give a damn about Nessa. The thought of you not being a techie really bothers me. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it, but it bothers me. I guess it’s who you are to me. I know it sounds silly but I guess I want to know that something about you, something about us, was true. That the person I fell in love with and the things we shared weren’t all based on a lie. That you were real, we were real. Does that make any sense? I hadn’t thought about it until now.”
“Aye, lass. It makes perfect sense. We were real. It was all real. And if I lived in the twenty-first century, with or without my magi, I would love technology. And you.”
So she wasn’t upset about Nessa? By the way she nodded, took his hand and continued back it seemed not. Just when he thought he had his lass all figured out she surprised him.
They’d no sooner returned to the courtyard when Ilisa appeared. Dazzling in a deep green dress, her long red hair flowed around her shoulders. Firstborn to Arthur and Annie who now resided in the nineteenth century, Ilisa had chosen at ten winters old to return to medieval Scotland. Though it broke her parent’s heart it was the best option. Their daughter was far too wild for New Hampshire, especially the day and age in which she was born.
“I wondered where you two had got off to,” she all but bellowed across the courtyard as she sauntered their way. Colin had to hand it to her, she walked as well in a dress as she did when she threw on trousers and wrapped herself up in as many daggers as she could find.
“Ilisa,” he said in greeting. “As always, nice to see you cousin.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She turned a confrontational eye McKayla’s way. “And what think you, foreigner, is it good to see me?”
About to have issue, he was cut off by his new wife.
“Are you drunk?” Mckayla asked, eyes narrowed as she peered at Ilisa. “I’ve been meaning to ask you that since we met.”
Colin ran a hand over his face and tried not to laugh. But he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. It took almost more restraint than he had.
Ilisa stepped nearly nose to nose with McKayla. In truth it was really more nose to top of head with the height difference. His cousin stared long and hard at his wife. And Kay, bless her heart, didn’t bat a lash. After too long for his taste, Ilisa raised her arm in the air and made a come-hither motion.
Arms crossed over his chest, Colin watched a stable boy run forward with a stool and place it behind his cousin. What was she up to? Knowing her, it could be anything. Some said she was crazy. He knew she was crazier.
When at last she made a move it was to finger one of McKayla’s locks. “The way you have your hair cut.”
McKayla eyed the woman’s hand in her hair then met her eyes. “Yeah. What about it?”
“I like it,” Ilisa declared and promptly sat on the stool. Reaching into her ample cleavage she pulled out a small knife and handed it, hilt first, to McKayla. “Cut mine like yours.”
Colin pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.
McKayla took the blade and looked from Colin to Ilisa. “Um.”
His cousin cocked her head then swiftly rolled her eyes. “Now here I thought you’ve a set o’ ballocks on you girl.” She snapped her hand in the air and the stable boy came running again. He handed a flagon to McKayla then scurried off.
Confused, McKayla looked from the flagon to the redhead.
“What?” Ilisa nodded at it. “Go on. Drink now. Seems you need some courage if you’re to see through what I asked of you.”
Colin twisted his mouth. Ilisa had a good dose of both her Ma and Da in her to be sure.
“Well then?” Ilisa said.
McKayla eyed the flagon, knife, and then Ilisa. “Have you no shears?”
“Wouldnae matter.” She pointed at the dagger. “I want it cut by that. Have you the ballocks?”
After a surprisingly long pull from the flagon, his wife handed it to him and said, “No, I’ve not the ballocks, only tits and a blade I’m afraid.”
Before Ilisa could approve or disapprove, McKayla grabbed a long chunk of hair and made a clean, if not yanking cut. His cousin’s eyes went wide and a smile blossomed. “Bloody hell, that hurt my scalp nearly as much as an arrow’s graze!”
Colin chuckled along with quite a few others who had come around despite the drizzle and mud and retreating storm. Why should that surprise him in the least? Highlanders, Scotsmen, his clan, loved a good show.
Ilisa offered him a wink when she took the proffered flagon. After a deep swig she tried to hand it back to McKayla. His little wife shook her head no and continued cutting off what was by far the most bonnie fire-red hair on this side of Scotland.
The crowd gathered and pipers brought their music outside. As the moon slid free from the fleeting cloudbank, logs were carried into the courtyard and a bonfire was lit. Still, McKayla cut, working the blade at an impressive angle. One it seemed that no longer hurt Ilisa and made the hair less frazzled. When the stable boy ran back out to gather some of the hair she said, “‘Twill be for my lassie.”
Colin didn’t need to ask who she meant. He knew.
Torra.
It took everything he had not to turn and look up at her. Because without a doubt his sister watched from high above, taking it all in and seeing things from this night that would echo far into the future.
“Well, look at that. Who knew she had a face under all that hair?”
Bradon joined them, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. Colin had no way of knowing why his brother had decided to reach out to him but he wouldn’t let the gesture go unappreciated. “And who knew McKayla had it in her to cut it all away.”
His brother arched a brow at him. “Ah, so you thought I spoke of Ilisa.”
Two years his junior, Bradon had seemed such a child when he left. It appeared he’d grown up since. And he was right. McKayla did appear to be blossoming here. “Aye, but what do I know.”
“More than you did when you arrived home. Hopefully more than when you leave again.”
Colin’s chest tightened. He didn’t blame his brother for assuming the worst. “‘Tis not my intention to let you down.”
But his brother had no chance to respond.
McKayla was finished.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she offered the blade to Ilisa, hilt first. Looking at the knife for a long moment and then at McKayla, Ilisa finally took it and tucked it back in her cleavage. Never had he seen a stranger sight than his wife in her white wedding gown standing in a pile of red hair. Not nervous in the least, she stared down at Ilisa as the Scotswoman felt her short locks for the first time.
Like him, the wide crowd waited with baited breath.
Even the pipes stopped.
Ilisa felt first the left side, then the right. Frown in place, her hands traveled slowly to the back of her head. Tick. Tick. Tick. If there’d been a clock, the sound of its small hands clicking forward would have blasted through the courtyard.
“Well,” McKayla said, her voice firm and curious.
Colin repressed a grin. God he loved her.
Ilisa stood up slowly and took another long swig from the flagon. “Well,” she said, her unreadable eyes on McKayla. “It seems my head feels a whole lot lighter!”
McKayla grabbed the flagon, her voice soft when she said, “Good, because I’m pretty sure it needed to be.”
But her words were lost in the cheers and hoots. The clan loved Ilisa’s new locks almost as much as she did. With a swagger only his cousin was capable of, Ilisa was off enjoying the admiration and praise for being a forward thinker. After all, she battled alongside the men. She should have shorter hair. It only made sense.
McKayla took a long swill then fanned her breath, pointing at the flagon. “This is strong. What is it?”
With a chuckle he took a swig. “‘Tis Highland whiskey, lass. The best of the best.”
“Best of the best, eh?” She shook her head, obviously shaky and still coming down from the pressure Ilisa had put her under.
“Had you drank whiskey back home you’d better ken how good this really is.”
“He’s the right of it, lass,” Bradon said. “At least I assume.”
McKayla watched Ilisa flirting with several men. “So what can I expect from her next?”
Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) Page 15