The Highlander’s Angel

by Lee, Caroline

  “Good nor bad,” she whispered, her attention on his lips. “Ye think I should leave it off?”

  “I think ye should trust yerself, and trust me. No matter who ye were in the past, what matters is now.” He flattened her palm against his chest, pressing the brand into his heart. “Today, ye’re beloved by the Queen’s Angels…and me.”

  Did she feel the way his heart jumped at the confession?

  Did she want to taste him as badly as he yearned to taste her lips?

  Her gaze caressed his face in the firelight, her breaths coming quicker.

  “Did ye hear what he said about Cam?” she asked quietly, her nostrils flaring. “About why he sent me away?”

  Slowly, Ross nodded, understanding why this was important. “Cam had more than one loyalty, Court. He cared for ye, and his men, and sending ye away proved it.”

  Her gaze found his once more, and slowly, her lips pulled into a grin. A real smile, the same one he’d seen on her face as she’d watched the moon rise all those nights ago.

  “Aye,” she breathed.

  His other arm snaked around her, pulling her to him. In this position, she’d surely feel his thick cock and know what it meant.

  But what would she do?

  “Court?” he whispered

  And that’s when she whimpered, a wee sound of surrender, and melted into him. Her free hand came up to rest against his cheek, and she pressed her pelvis into his.

  “Aye, Ross,” she repeated. “Please.”

  It was all she needed to say.

  Chapter 9

  This kiss…?

  This kiss wasn’t soft nor understanding, but Court didn’t care. All she knew was, after the two hours she’d just spent flirting with him and touching him, if she didn’t taste Ross right this moment, she’d likely go mad.

  When his arms wrapped around her, crushing her against him, she made a noise somewhere between jubilation and want, and allowed her lips to show him what she’d missed.

  At some point, they pulled away long enough for her to untie her tunic, but the kissing halted barely long enough for her to pull it over her head and toss it aside. His hands were everywhere, and she moaned against his lips when he reached under her shirt and yanked down the binding she, and the rest of the Angels, used to secure their breasts while on mission.

  He cupped both of her breasts, his palms warm and callused, and she arched against his touch, reveling in the sensations.

  “I want ye, Ross,” she panted, even as his lips claimed hers once more.

  He groaned, his large hands covering her bare chest, then sliding around to press against her back once more.

  But he was the one to pull away.

  “Wait,” he gasped, his breathing heavy as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Hold, Court.”

  She froze, her hand on his belt, not sure she could hold. Her body was primed, ready, poised on the edge of something she needed.

  His breathing slowed, even as his hands roamed across her back, under her shirt, but she didn’t move. Finally, he straightened away from her, the movement pressing his thickness against her belly, and causing her to shudder in anticipation and need.

  “Wait,” he breathed again, then reluctantly slid away from her.

  Turning for the door, he licked his lips and gave a quiet whistle. The dog, who’d settled into the corner and was watching them intently, jumped to his feet.

  Ross stalked around the table and made for the door. He unbarred it, then gestured to his loyal beast. “Honor, guard. Protect.”

  Honor gave a wee woof of acknowledgment, then slid happily out the door. She saw him pace back and forth in front of the building twice, before settling down right outside the door.

  “Good boy,” Ross whispered, shutting the door.

  Good boy, she wanted to repeat, but couldn’t seem to make her voice work.

  When he turned back to her, his customary half-smirk on his lips, Ross seemed a little… hesitant. “I didnae want to risk a repeat of yesterday.”

  Yesterday?

  Oh, aye. By the loch, after Court had lost the challenge, their kiss had been interrupted by the dog.“

  He was—” She swallowed and tried again. “He was likely just concerned for us. Ye were making an abundance of strange noises.”

  The smirk turned into a chuckle, and Ross seemed to relax. “I was? Ye were the one who— Och, never mind,” he teased.

  Without dropping her gaze, he unlaced his scabbard and propped it beside the doorframe. It was a simple gesture, but spoke volumes.

  She felt like crowing, but kept her expression guarded. From the feel of him earlier, he was more than ready to give her what she ached for, but likely understood the midst of a mission wasn’t the ideal time.

  “Court?” he prompted, straightening. He didn’t step closer to her, but spread his arms slightly from his sides. “Honor will guard us. This building is secure, and we’re safe for the nonce. I ken what I want to do, but what do ye want?”

  It felt wrong to be standing this far away from him, the table between them, but Court couldn’t make herself move, not when this moment had finally arrived. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

  “Ye, Ross. I want ye.”

  Under the swatch of Fraser plaid, his chest expanded as he inhaled. One large hand tightened into a fist, before relaxing, then clenching once more.

  It took a moment for Court to understand; he was fighting to maintain control, and that made her feel powerful.

  “Court,” he said in a strangled whisper. “Courtney. If we do this…” He swallowed and shook his head. “When we— Hellfire.” He spat out the word, then scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I want ye too, Court. More than I’ve ever wanted another woman. I’ve wanted ye since we laid together afore. I’ve wanted ye for years.”

  There was a “but” in there, she just knew it.

  Holding her breath, she forced herself to stand where she was, apart from him, and let him say what he needed to say.

  “But the last time, that was just two people using one another, aye?”

  She felt foolish, standing there in just a loose shirt and her trewes, but she propped one fist on her hip and cocked her head at him. “Aye, Ross, that it was.”

  At least, it had started out that way.

  “But ye need to ken, Court, if I bed ye tonight, ‘twill no’ be me using ye. ‘Twill no’ be meaningless. No’ to me.”

  Slowly, his meaning became clear, and her hand dropped to her side as she straightened. He was telling her he cared for her. He was telling her that this—this—this whatever they shared meant something to him.

  His hand was on his belt now, and she saw him swallow.

  “What I need to ken, Court, is if ye feel the same way. I ken what ye think of loyalties, and what ye think of me, but”—he shook his head, his expression nigh tortured—“if ye could manage two loyalties, would one of them be…?”

  When he trailed off, her heart squeezed in her chest.

  She understood what he was asking; would she consider giving her loyalty to him and the Angels?

  Would she consider loving him?

  A sennight ago, she would’ve said such a thing was impossible, which is why she’d never considered it. She could only give her heart to one cause.

  But working beside Ross again had made her doubt that certainty, doubt what Cam had inadvertently taught her, when he’d put the Red Hand above his loyalty to her.

  But tonight, she’d discovered that had never happened.

  In fact, by sending her away to protect her from his second-in-command, Andrew, Cam had found a way to uphold both loyalties.

  It was a subtle difference, and one she wished he’d taken the time to explain, damn him.

  But now that she understood his reasons, and now that she was coming to care for Ross, she had a new outlook on loyalties.

  She could maintain only her loyalty to the Angels; devoting herself only to the Queen…or she could also a
llow Ross into her heart, to work with him instead of against him.

  Her decision an easy one to make, Court smiled, a genuine smile, which caused him to suck in a sharp breath of air.

  “Aye, Ross,” she said quietly, skirting the table to saunter toward him. She stopped in front of him, close enough to touch, although not. “Aye, I could be loyal to ye.”

  In the torchlight, she saw understanding dawn in those dark green eyes of his. He took another breath and seemed to hold it.

  “I could be loyal to ye, as well,” he offered in a harsh whisper.

  It was enough.

  She reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing at the bristles after so many days on the mission. “If I bed ye this night, ‘twill no’ be meaningless.”

  They were his words, but when she repeated them, he groaned and dropped his forehead to hers once more. “Lass,” he choked out, “I’m damn near dying for restraint here. What will ye have me do?”

  He was giving her the power.

  And it was likely she loved him for it.

  That, and a score of other reasons.

  The smile still on her lips, she thanked Heaven he liked bold women, and dropped her hands to his shoulders. When he stilled under her touch, she ran them down his arms, then over to his sides and up over his chest. Under her palm, she felt his heartbeat, knew it was pounding so quickly because of her, and decided she didn’t have time to tease him.

  “Ross,” she whispered up at him, “there will be time for restraint later, aye? The next time we can go gentle.”

  He closed his eyes on a groan. “Next time?”

  “Aye,” she drawled mischievously, as she ran her hands over his plaid and down the hard muscles of his stomach. “But not this time.”

  When she reached his kilt, she used one hand to pull up the material, even while reaching under with the other. When her hand closed around his cock, they both sucked in a breath.

  It was as thick as she remembered, and she wished it were daylight, so she could really see the magnificence of what she held in her hand. But by feel, it was just as glorious as she’d dreamed.

  Her other hand joined the first, and she stood toe-to-toe with him, holding his gaze, as she explored every inch of him under his kilt. His cock was long and thick, the bollocks heavy in her hand. As she ran her palm across his shaft and circled the end, she felt the sticky drop which told her he was more than ready.

  His hands rose to his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp to hold himself steady, she imagined, as his lips parted to accommodate his fast breaths.

  Holding him like this wasn’t just powerful, it was arousing. Not his arousal, although she could very much appreciate that. Nay, it made her hot and desperate. Her breaths were coming just as quickly as his, and inside her trewes she squeezed her thighs together, shifting slightly to feel that blessed friction relieve a small bit of tension.

  “Court,” he moaned, finally dropping his head back, “I want ye to set the pace, but if ye keep that up— If I don’ touch ye soon—” He didn’t finish his thought, but groaned instead.

  Her smile had faded to a smirk, and she decided she liked this formidable feeling.

  Stepping back, she dropped him, her palms already missing the feel of him. But in one swift yank, she’d pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her breasts free to his gaze. Her bindings were around her waist, and when his eyes locked on her tits, she knew she wasn’t going to bother waiting for them both to disrobe completely.

  Instead, she sucked in a breath, as she spun around and pressed her back to him. His hands fell around her, instinctively cupping her breasts and finding the nipples to roll between his fingers. As his lips scorched the side of her neck, she pressed her arse into his hardness, and he moaned.

  Her hands fumbled for her belt. “Ross, enough restraint!”

  She dropped her trewes, barring her arse to him, as he pressed her forward. Her palms flattened against the wood of the table, then she dropped to her elbows. One large hand stayed on her breast, pinching and rolling the way she liked it, and the other disappeared behind her.

  She felt him guiding his shaft into her ready opening, and spread her legs as much as her trewes would allow, desperate to feel him fully seated.

  “Ye’re ready for me, lass,” he growled, and she dropped her forehead to the wood. “So wet.”

  “Please, Ross!”

  With a groan, he pressed home, her slickness welcoming him.

  They both froze, him likely giving her a chance to get used to his girth. But she was no virgin, frightened by his size. Nay, she remembered him well, and this, this was even better than her memories.

  She was the first to move, pressing back against him, sheathing him even further, and they both moaned together.

  “Lass,” he whispered hoarsely, “ye’ll unman me afore we begin.”

  Mayhap it was that confession, or mayhap the position, or mayhap the anticipation. Either way, Court felt her insides clench at his words, and she sucked in a breath.

  He must’ve understood, because he stopped teasing her and dropped one hand to the table beside her, to brace his weight, as he thrust into her. The second thrust was accompanied by his hand, delving into the curls above where they were joined. His forefinger circled the pearl of her pleasure, and she found herself gasping again.

  He plunged into her in the most wonderful way, and she met him as well as she was able. God’s Blood, but it was glorious, to be pinned under him like this, especially after the power she’d so recently wielded.

  “Ross!”

  His thrusts became desperate, his grunts primal, and she shuddered as her release built inside her. Under his rough assault, she lowered herself completely to the table and reached for his forearm, wrapping her fingers around the thick muscles, and reveling in the strength she felt in them as he supported himself. She let out a groan of satisfaction.

  Mayhap that’s what did it, because Ross’s arm tightened around her, pressing into her, at the same moment he stiffened behind her.

  “Courtney,” came his strangled whisper, “come with me.”

  It was the command in his voice which sent her over the edge.

  Her release burst against him as she pressed back, desperate to take more of him. She felt herself rocking against his hand and along his shaft, the friction prolonging her pleasure, even as he began to move.

  His thrusts were more controlled now, but both hands moved to her hips, and he growled with each one. Her eyes were shut, her entire being centered on the fire burning deep within, and she realized she was still holding her breath.

  “By the saints,” he groaned, stiffening, then thrusting into her twice, thrice more.

  As she felt a flood of warmth fill her, he made a noise somewhere between a prayer and a roar.

  Court slowly exhaled, as he dropped his weight to his hands on either side of her head.

  By the saints, indeed.

  Above her, he was struggling to get his breathing under control, but she had no such qualms. What she’d just experienced was glorious, and there was no need to control aught at that moment.

  She smiled and allowed herself to just bask.

  It was long moments before he stirred against her back. His member softened as he did, and she felt a moment of disappointment when he released her.

  First time, she reminded herself.

  “By the saints,” he repeated with a groan, pushing himself upright.

  She felt like giggling, but that would be something Mellie might do, so instead, she got her elbows under her and straightened as well.

  It was awkward to stand, her trewes still down around her ankles, and shuffle around to face him, but the sight of him made her lips twitch. His plaid had fallen around his waist, and his hair was wild.

  By God, he was so big, and as her eyes caressed him, she allowed herself to truly smile.

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, explaining its mess. “Court, if ye keep l
ooking at me like that…”

  Slowly, deliberately, she dragged her gaze across his chest and shoulders, then his flat stomach, before moving lower, to where she knew the object of her desire nestled under his kilt.

  “Aye?” she drawled.

  In a blink, his hands were at her waist, and he was lifting her, seating her on the table. She was level with him now, and his callused palms sent shivers through her as they stroked up her sides to cup her breasts.

  “The first time ye said, Courtney.”

  “Aye.” She reached for his belt. “The second time, we can go gentle.”

  And so they did.

  Chapter 10

  Morning came all too soon.

  The torch had burned out during the night, and truthfully, so had Ross.

  He’d carried Court to the pile of furs after the second time they’d made love, and had enjoyed just holding her. They curled around one another, their limbs intertwined as if they belonged together, and he decided he could get used to the feeling of her fingertips gently stroking the skin of his shoulder as he drifted off to sleep.

  Years of conditioning had his eyes open before the sun began to lighten the sky, but he didn’t mind; nay, it gave him more time to appreciate the woman in his arms, now that he was sated, though he was sure that was only temporary.

  By all the saints in Heaven, she was a vision.

  Not beautiful in the conventional sense, and far from delicate, but he had no use for convention, and a man of his brawn wanted naught to do with delicate either. He wanted a woman who could match him, who would stand toe-to-toe with him, who would challenge him.

  Remembering the bold way Court had reached beneath his kilt, then commanded he make love to her, Ross’s lips curled upward.

  She’s that woman.

  His eyes roamed over her bare chest, then down to where her hips disappeared under his thigh. Sometime during the night, he’d fetched his plaid to wrap them in, but between the furs and their own heat, it had been pushed aside.

  When his gaze found her face once more, she was watching him, her expression inscrutable in the dim light.