Choosing the Highlander

by Jessi Gage

  His hands stilled, cupping her head. “Sharing?”

  She nodded. “I wanted my life to be this certain way, this perfect way. A man only figured into that if his goals were the same as mine. But with you—” She experienced an urge to hide her face from him, but fought it. Holding his gaze, she said, “With you, I actually think your satisfaction is more important to me than my own. I want you to have everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. I want you to look back on your life when it’s over and think, yes, it was good. I want—heavens, I want your life to be good because I’m in it.”

  As she spoke the words, a wonderfully unsteady heat spread through her core. There it was, the exhilaration. Panic still rode underneath, but in a way that heightened the thrill of giving into her emotions. Never in a million years would she have thought letting go of control would feel this freeing. A smile pulled at her cheeks as happiness filled her from head to toe.

  “The thing I want most is for you to be happy.” Leslie had spoken those words just before articulating her wish.

  I’m happy, sis. I’m truly happy.

  Wilhelm’s Adam’s apple moved. His thumbs rubbed her hair. “You are speaking of love.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Then all will be well for us, for wherever, when-ever we are, we shall always be together. Hear me? My greatest success shall be a lifetime of lending you my strength, my protection, and my love.”

  “Is that a proposal?”

  “Nay, lass. ’Tis a vow.”

  #

  Wilhelm marveled at the woman in his arms. Her beauty ran deeper than the contours of her features and hues of her hair. Her appeal lay in more than the softness of her curves and the clean, peachy scent of her skin. It shone in eyes that adored him and in a bravery of spirit that had led her to give him her trust and finally confess her secrets.

  Even before she’d told him the incredible story of her origin, he’d felt that her coming to him had been divinely orchestrated. Now he knew for cert. He would cherish this gift always, and he would do all he could to be a gift to her as well.

  He had to clear his throat before he spoke again. “Tomorrow, I would like you to tell me about your family and your future Vinland. But tonight, lass, what I would like—what I lust for with all I am—is for you to kindly relieve me of my virtue.”

  No truer words had he ever spoken.

  Holding her like this, so close to the position of lovemaking, and having her pour out her heart to him had his staff hard as steel. If he didn’t sink within her soon, he might die of wanting.

  She had been lightly stroking his sides. The stroking stopped. “Your virtue?”

  “Aye.” The way Terran had carried on with the lasses made Wilhelm look upon tupping as a frivolity a disciplined man would do well to avoid, like too much drink or too strong a thirst for violence. By keeping his mind on his studies and duties, he’d incurred Terran’s jesting. Are ye in training to be a monk, Will? If ye doona use your prick, it’ll shrivel up and fall off, Will. Och, Will, if you doona want that bonny creature, I’ll be happy to put the roses in her cheeks.

  Thanks to his parents and the fond looks and stolen kisses they would share, he kent there was more to tupping than the mere “scratching of an itch,” as Terran would oft call it. But he’d had difficulty imagining himself so taken with a woman he would spend hours with her in the marriage bed when he could be doing somat productive. Now, ’twas difficult for him to imagine wanting to be anywhere other than united in pleasure with his Constant Rose.

  She placed a hand along his cheek. Her thumb traced the smooth skin above where his beard was coming in. “Darling,” she said, her voice whisper soft, “it will be my honor.”

  He expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and raised her shift with a questing hand on her thigh.

  With a sigh that sounded like, “Yes,” she opened her legs to him so he could settle in her intimate cradle. A shock of lust hit him like a mace when she raked her fingers up his buttocks, raising his shirt as he’d raised her shift. No passive kitten, his lady. In their bed, she would be a tigress.

  “Fine, lass. You’re fine.” He delved into her mouth with deep kisses, reveling in the sensation of being skin to skin with her below the waist. In a proper bed, they would have room to strip each other and admire each other’s bodies, but snug in his plaid, they had limited freedom of movement. ’Twould be enough. He would make certain of it.

  With his cock nestled sweetly against her silky stomach and his mouth feasting at hers, he let his hands learn all the shapes of her—the angles of her collarbones, the plump roundness of her breasts, the succulent heart shape of her bottom.

  Skimming his knuckles downward from her navel, he said, “If I keep going, will I find you wet for me?” Never before had he spoken such bold words. Never before had he been consumed with lust, love or anything else a tenth as powerful as this.

  She nibbled his lower lip. “Why don’t you keep going and find out for yourself?”

  A growl rumbled from his chest. “Is that a challenge?”

  “An invitation.” From the feel of her mouth on his, he kent she was smiling.

  “Then I heed it,” he murmured, trailing kisses across her cheek to the warm place just below her ear. He tasted her salt, her sweetness.

  Turning his wrist, he pushed his fingers down through her curls, down to explore her tender folds, down further to see what lay in their heated depths. When his fingers sank into a pool of slick moisture, he hissed, “Saints above.”

  He sucked in a breath to steady himself lest he give in to the fullness of his pleasure too soon.

  “Like what you feel?”

  “Och, lass. You ken I do.” With difficulty, he found his control and ordered his thoughts. Thanks to Terran, his father, and countless married members of his clan, he possessed no shortage of knowledge on how to please a woman. He lacked expertise, but judging from the eagerness of Constance’s kisses, he did not think she minded.

  Her slickness made it easy for him to glide over her petals and find his target, her pearl of pleaure.

  Her body jerked and she whimpered.

  Immediately, he eased his touch. Drawing gentle circles, he memorized her, and from the breathy moans rising in the night, his touch had the intended effect.

  She murmured wee assurances like, “Oh, yes” and “please” between kisses, but it didn’t take his lady long to seek more than a passive role. Reaching between them, she took hold of his staff.

  With a nip to her earlobe, he said, “Doona take me in hand, lass, or ’twill be the end before we’ve begun.”

  In this, she did not obey. “Don’t take your time with me. I need you now.” She wriggled upward and guided him to where he played in her wetness.

  She deserved more tenderness from him, more patience, but he had none left. Breath heavy in his lungs, he eased forward, joining them.

  Constance grabbed his buttocks and urged him deeper.

  The heat, the sharp pleasure, the need, it all drove him on. With great effort, he restrained himself, taking her easy and slow. But he could not gentle the long, low groan that forced itself from his lungs as he claimed her for his own.

  Constance threw her head back and moaned, a sound as helpless as he’d ever heard from his lady. Pride replenished his breath. The determination to please her greatly restored his control.

  Nature’s instinct took over. He moved with a deliberate pace, and his lady rose to meet him. She kneaded his hips and then locked her arms around his back. Their bodies fused from lips to groin, and the building pleasure robbed him of gentleness.

  “Need you, lass,” he breathed as his thrusts gained in power. An urge akin to his battle lust filled him until he couldn’t hold back, not with her, not any longer.

  “Need you, too. Give me everything. Please.”

  In her eyes was a depth of craving that spoke to his soul. That look told him he didn’t have to hold back. His lady was b
rave and strong and possessed a power of her own. She’d been built to receive the totality of his passion.

  Her soul called to his. Mayhap their connection had called her through time itself, for no other woman that had ever or would ever walk the Earth could be his match in every way as this woman was.

  Love swelled in his heart as sensation expanded into every part of his being. He gave her everything, and she welcomed it all.

  Chapter 21

  Connie woke to the gray light of a winter dawn and the memory of what she’d done last night. Sex. With Wilhelm. And not just any sex. The best sex of her life.

  She’d never known it could be that amazing. Their first round of “wedding by bedding” had catapulted her into an orgasm that explained the phrase, “Earth shattering.” She’d heard people describe sex that way and had wondered if she was missing something. Oh, she’d had orgasms before, but the ordeal of striving for one almost seemed to cancel out the miniscule moment of bliss.

  Now she knew she had, in fact, been missing something. That something was a Highland warrior whose mind, heart, and body all called to her in a way that made what affection she’d had for former lovers seem silly in comparison.

  She’d been missing Wilhelm.

  For their second round, they had taken their time. Despite the tight quarters of their makeshift sleeping bag, she’d managed to pull off his shirt so she could skim her hands over his delectable abdominals. He’d wrangled her shift over her head and rewarded her for the twinge she’d gotten in her shoulder by feasting on her breasts for long, rapturous minutes.

  Connie had learned the skin on the insides of her elbows, when licked, aroused her to an insane degree. She’d shown Wilhelm that a scraping of teeth over his nipple could be pleasurable when done firmly enough not to tickle. Discovering the right amount of pressure to apply had resulted in his boyish wiggling and much mutual laughter.

  When they made love again, it was with a tenderness that had slammed the door on the regret still lurking in her mind after choosing to stay with Wilhelm.

  If Leslie knew how happy she was, how much she loved this incredible man, she would forgive Connie for the choice.

  If only Connie could somehow tell her twin that her wish had come true.

  I’ve found love, Leslie, and it’s so much better than I ever thought it could be.

  Unfortunately, the happiness she’d found didn’t cancel out her heartache. Last night, she’d put off the grief of leaving everything she knew and everyone she loved behind. Now, it was morning. As she stared up at the pewter sky, the weight of what she’d done pressed down on her, crushing the breath from her lungs.

  After “relieving Wilhelm of his virtue”—twice—Connie had passed out in the crook of his arm. Judging by the crick in her neck, she hadn’t moved since. Her handfasted husband—or her fiancé, as she thought of him in modern-day terminology—snored quietly, face turned toward her. Unshaven since they’d left the monastery and with his hair mussed from last night’s activity, he looked every bit the rugged Highland warrior she knew him to be.

  Under normal circumstances, she might enjoy cuddling beside him as they began a new day together, but this morning she needed time alone. Moving at a snail’s pace so she didn’t wake him, she disentangled her legs from his and began wriggling out of their warm cocoon.

  His arm tightened around her. “Good, morn,’ my Constant Rose,” he said with a sleepy smile.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Heavens, she loved this man.

  “Good morning.” Feeling a little shy, she used her rumpled shift to cover her breasts. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to freshen up.”

  “Truth,” he said, smile fading, “but only by half.” The muscles in his abdomen bunched as he sat up. “Tell me the rest, love. Or have you nay learned by now that I am willing and able to share your burdens?” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I see the sadness in your eyes. It slays me. Let me soothe it for you.” He kissed her lips softly, so softly.

  His tenderness drew forth the heartbreak she’d hoped to hide. A sob ripped up and out of her. There was no stopping it under the onslaught of his concern.

  In a flash, his arms went around her. “I’ve got you, lass,” he said over her ear. “I’ve got you.”

  In the shelter of his embrace, the tears came. She hated crying in front of someone else. Always had. She wanted to push Wilhelm away and find a private place to mourn all she’d lost, but she couldn’t. First, his grip communicated he did not intend to let her go. Second, she needed him. She needed this.

  To need another was a revelation.

  “Are these for your sister?” he asked, rubbing his thumb through her tear tracks.

  She nodded. She’d given up her entire life for this man. Hiding from him would defeat the purpose. Goodness, she hardly recognized the woman leaning into a man’s touch, letting him comfort her rather than calling on her own strength to overcome her troubles. Had giving in to love weakened her?

  No. She couldn’t believe that. Being with Wilhelm made her feel strong and valued. The tears were because she’d had to choose between him and everything else. It didn’t mean she regretted the choice. It just meant she had to let the pain have its way with her.

  “Tell me about her.” The way he bowed his head to meet her gaze made melted her heart.

  “Her name is Leslie. She’s my twin, and I—I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.” Shuddering, she wept for Leslie and for herself, for the separation they would both feel like a lost limb. Wilhelm held her through it, moving her onto his lap and wrapping them both in his kilt. Where the cold air touched her skin, it pebbled, but where her body rested against Wilhelm’s she was warm. So warm.

  “Would that our places could be reversed,” he said. “I could have come to your time and you could still have Leslie and your place in the world that ye ken so well.”

  She sniffed. “I’d still be sad.” She wiped away the wetness on her face. “Because then you’d be missing your home and your family.” Lifting her chin, she added, “Besides, Scotland needs you a lot more than Chicago needs me. I’m convinced of that. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have committed myself to you last night. It’s part of who you are, and part of why I’ve fallen so completely for you. Now—” She cleared her throat and slipped her arms into her shift. Wilhelm helped her pull it over her head. “Let’s get the horses ready. We’ve got to clear your name so you can bring me to my new home and marry me officially.”

  She started to rise, but he held her fast. “You are remarkable, woman.”

  His praise helped her muster up a smile. “Yes, well, there’s no sense in putting off Inverness.” Determined to use the ride today to strategize, she got up and dressed. She was engaged to be married now, and she refused to sit on the sidelines while her future husband faced his day of judgment.

  #

  Wilhelm grinned to himself as his bonny new handfasted bride shifted once more in the saddle. He held her in his arms as she sat before him. At his insistence, they’d loaded Honesty with all their cargo so they could ride together. Justice wouldn’t mind carrying two riders, however Wilhelm would mind greatly not having his Constant Rose in his arms today.

  “Riding a horse after a night of ‘wedding by bedding’ should be considered cruel and unusual punishment,” she grumbled.

  “Do you regret what we’ve done, love?” he asked with a kiss of her shoulder. He had them both wrapped in his plaid, and Constance wore her cloak hood up. Despite the drizzle, they remained warm and dry as they rode.

  “No,” she said quietly. A single-word response that carried a world of meaning.

  Neither did he have regrets.

  A man gave away his virginity but once. ’Twas right he should give his to Constance. She would be the only woman he would bed for his entire life. No other had ever called to him the way she did. No other ever would.

  The need to protect this treasure redoubled his determination to clear
him and Terran of Ruthven’s exaggerated charges. Once this task was behind him, he would devote himself to compensating Constance for all she had lost in order to become his.

  Squeezing her tight to him, he said, “Tell me about your family. Your Vinland. Tell me what you ken of Scotia. What is the world like in your time?”

  “Is that all you want to know?”

  They laughed together.

  “I’m not sure where to begin,” she said, her fingers entwined with his. “Some things are the same. The world’s continents are largely the same, though map-making has improved by leaps and bounds. Many of the countries you’re familiar with still exist, but some are known by different names.

  “Scotland is still Scotland. It’s known for being an important place for commerce and industrialization in Europe. But its history has not been easy…or bloodless.

  “I’m not sure how much I should tell you. What if your knowing things affects the future? A man like you—you’re well positioned to be a force for change in Scotland. What if things I tell you—or even just my being here, alters events and changes the world I know—or knew?”

  Saints above, she could be right. “Mayhap, if events are altered, they will be altered for the better.”

  Connie hummed thoughtfully. “Possibly. Conversely, though, events could be altered for the worse. Or people who should exist might not come to be. I mean, what if my parents never meet or don’t get married and Leslie and I are never born? Would I simply disappear? Cease to exist? I’d could be here with you one minute and then just—poof—gone the next.”

  Fear slithered low in his viscera. He tightened his arms around her. “Och, lass, ’tis too terrible to contemplate.”

  At her mention of Scotia featuring prominently in commerce and somat she called in-dust-reel-zay-shun he’d felt proud. But she’d also suggested the future for his countrymen would be bloody and difficult. This worried him. Hadn’t this land already seen enough warfare? To him, it seemed long past time for peace.