Highlander's Kiss: The McDougalls, Books 1-3

by Hildie McQueen

  Not wanting to hear Meagan's attempts to defend Dugan, Elsbeth got up and went to find her husband. She'd just have to ask him herself. It was beyond ridiculous that she tossed and turned in want at night while he slept peaceful as the dead.

  The great room was dim. A maid ordered two lads who went about scrubbing the tops of tables and sweeping the rushes from the floor.

  Spotting Dugan exiting a side door, Elsbeth went to call after him only to stop when spotting the serving wench, Gertrude walking behind him. Her heart pounding, she waited until her breathing stabilized before following.

  The days were cooling and Elsbeth was thankful for the briskness in the breeze on her flushed face when she stepped into the open air. She didn't spot anyone at first, but then heard the unmistakable timbre of her husband's voice.

  "I doubt this will work, Gertrude, hold still." He sounded as if out of breath. "Perhaps we can try in the stables."

  "I want to do it now...here," Gertrude seemed to strain and then she groaned.

  "Get away from my husband, whore!" Elsbeth rounded the corner with a stick raised above her head.

  Both Gertrude and Dugan turned to her, eyes wide. Gertrude held a goat between her legs and Dugan who had been holding its hind leg released it and fell onto the ground when the animal bucked in surprise. Gertrude lost her hold on the beast and stumbled to land on her arse. The goat kicked in the air and limped a few feet away before letting out a pitiful cry.

  "What are you doing, wife?" Dugan got to his feet and frowned toward the goat. "Gertrude, take that animal to the stables. Ask Liam to help remove the thorn from its foot."

  Elsbeth dropped the stick and began to retreat, but Dugan grabbed her arm and held her beside him as Gertrude struggled away with the baying animal.

  "She treats the thing as if it were a child, refuses to allow anyone near it for fear they'll butcher it for a meal." Dugan explained not looking at her.

  "I didn't mean to scare it," Elsbeth admitted. "But I saw her follow you and assumed."

  "You called her a whore," Dugan shook his head. "I admit she's warmed many a bed, but she is a good person."

  "She's got her eyes on you, I feel it."

  "Is that so?" At his knowing smile, she eyed the stick and considered popping him on the side of the head with it. "Jealous, wife?"

  "Of course not."

  "And this?" Dugan picked up the stick she'd held. "Who did you plan to smash with it?"

  Elsbeth bit back a smile. "I'm not sure."

  "Come here," Dugan guided her to a low wall in a secluded section of the garden. "Lean over and hold it."

  "What?"

  "You must be punished for not trusting me."

  Her eyes widened, would her husband strike her? Elsbeth considered refusing, but she had to obey. It was his right as husband after all. Hurt and resentment began to take hold in her. Knowing it was his right and that he did nothing wrong by striking her did not mean she'd easily forgive him for it. Following his instruction, Elsbeth bent at the waist and waited, her anger rising.

  Warm hands circled her ankles and slid up her legs. His fingers skimmed over her skin lifting her clothing. Elsbeth felt more and more exposed as his trek continued upwards. At the same time, her breath hitched at finding she was enjoying the experience. Finally his hands reached her upper thighs and he hesitated, skimming his hands across her now heated flesh.

  "Are you prepared, wife?" The deep husky tones did little to settle her and she replied with a simple nod.

  Dugan threw her skirts over her head.

  Not sure if it was from anger or something else, her breathing became erratic and her heartbeat faster. Elsbeth prepared for the assault only to gasp when Dugan's calloused hands began to rub over her behind.

  He moaned and continued to massage her. Next he kissed where his hands left to follow with his hot mouth suckling over her skin. His tongue traveled down the center of her bottom and Elsbeth clutched the rocks harder. Her legs began to wobble when his hand slid between her legs and he not so gently pushed them apart.

  "I've wanted to take you like this, beautiful Elsbeth. And I will." His breath feathered at her core and for an instant she felt nothing until his tongue slid into her. Elsbeth's legs wobbled, but Dugan pulled away. "Do not move, wife, take your punishment." She could hear the mirth in his voice.

  "Yes," Elsbeth responded and then cried out when one of his hands cupped her center and his finger rubbed over the tingling nub.

  When his hard cock nudged at her entrance, she pushed back into it. "Now, Dugan."

  "Augh," he groaned and pushed into her. With his large hands on her hips to hold her in place, Dugan thrust in and out until losing any semblance of rhythm. He drove against her so hard the sounds of flesh against flesh rose to mingle with their moans.

  Elsbeth lost control and flew high, stars flashing behind her eyes until she could no longer stand. Dugan held her up, his arms around her waist while he continued in his trek to find a heaven of his own.

  That night Dugan held her legs over his shoulders while allowing his length to almost fully exit before he slid back into her. His movements erratic, Elsbeth barely noticed as she flayed under him, lost in her own passion. She screamed in release, arching against him.

  "You're made for lovemaking, vixen," Dugan whispered in her ear when he collapsed over her. "I will not be able to walk tomorrow."

  "Mmmm," Elsbeth mumbled nibbling on his earlobe. "Are you angry about it, husband?"

  "Not one bit." He gifted her with a wide smile. "I cannot wait for Calum to try to boast on his bedroom escapades."

  Elsbeth slapped at his shoulder. "Don't you dare share."

  "They only have to see my face in the morning and everyone will know I am well bedded by my beautiful wife."

  "Why did you barely touch me the last two days?"

  His brows knitted. "I wanted to, but was told to give you time to heal. Just laying next to you has been torture. But I feared that just a touch would make it impossible to keep from taking you fully. You are my weakness, my wonderful, beautiful weakness."

  "Oh, Dugan." Elsbeth took a breath and smiled up at him. "Kiss me once more."

  "Gladly."

  Morning came too soon. Elsbeth begrudged the sunlight that took her husband from her bed so early. She stretched only to find Dugan remained beside her. He slept soundly, not roused by her movement.

  She lifted and studied him. Was he not feeling well? Or it could be he'd decided to linger in bed this morning. The thought made her happy.

  A smile tugging at her lips, Elsbeth lifted the bedding and skimmed over his wonderful body. The valleys and planes of his muscular build so very different from her softer curves, yet alluring to her. Most of his skin was soft to the touch, not rough as she had expected.

  Unable to resist, she skimmed her fingertips down his flat stomach to just above where his cock lay against it.

  Elsbeth hesitated and looked up to his face. Dugan continued to sleep. Becoming braver, she moved lower in the bed and pressed her lips to the skin of his lower stomach. She loved the smell of her husband, all man and earth.

  His cock twitched and she jerked up to see Dugan watched her. His sleepy eyes met hers and his lips curved. "A better way to wake up there is not."

  "I want to pleasure you." Her face heated at the words. "Tell me how."

  He lay back onto the pillow. “Take me in hand, wrap your fingers around and hold it tight.” Her fingers wrapped around his hardening length, not quite closing all the way around it.

  Dugan moaned. "Yes. That's it. Now slide your hand up and down." His breathing hitched. "Wet your hand with your tongue and continue."

  Once again she followed his instructions enjoying watching the strong warrior lost in what she did to him. He neck muscles corded with exertion when she bent and kissed the tip that slid from her palm. "There is more isn't there. Dugan?"

  "Aye, but you don't have to." He grunted. "I can spill my seed if you continue..."
>
  The sentence was left unfinished when she wrapped her lips around the end of his cock and took him into her mouth. She suckled at it while continuing to move her hand up and down.

  Dugan's fingers dug into the bedding and he grabbed fistfuls of the blankets and lifted his hips while crying out. Elsbeth continued taking him as far as possible into her mouth. It took only a couple suckles when Dugan cried out and spilled his seed.

  With a satisfied sigh she crawled to lie on his chest while he continued to shudder. Dugan kissed her and held her against him.

  When he was able to speak, he lifted her face up to him. "I have no doubt I will love you more than life itself. I am a lucky man to have you."

  She held back a giggle at how men thought. Unlike Dugan, she was already madly in love and would tell him soon. "It is good to hear, husband. Now, it's best I rise and prepare for the morning meal. Most may be finished by now." Elsbeth sat up and pushed her hair away from her face.

  When a strong arm pulled her onto her back, she yelped only to moan when her husband began a descent of his own.

  They did not make the morning meal that day.

  The End

  Chapter 29

  Highlander’s Claim - Ian and Ailios’ Story

  Ian McDougall leaned away from his already inebriated father, Laird of the Northern McDougall Clan.

  The man huffed. "Ignore me if ye will, but I see how you follow the wench's every move. Ye have since her arrival. Bed her, but do so soon, for your betrothed arrives in a sennight."

  "I have no intention of bedding Ailios. Unless she willingly comes to my bed, then perhaps," Ian replied watching the laird raise the newly filled tankard of ale to his lips.

  "Yer time is short, son. She's no stranger to a man's bed, was married before to a villager."

  His father was right. Soon he would be married, tied for life to another. Admittedly, he'd not given much thought to his upcoming nuptials until his younger brother, urged by their father, left with a group of warriors to escort his intended back to their keep.

  It was only due to the fact his father had been so ill as of late, that kept him behind. The healer insisted Ian should remain in order to accept his place as laird, if the McDougall died.

  Ian eyed his father. The man's gray skin tone and heavy breathing told of pain and near-death. In the last month his father had taken to drinking heavily, no doubt in an attempt to keep the pain at bay. Admittedly, if he were in such a state, it was probably what he'd do.

  Not a stranger to pain, having been injured in several battles, Ian always kept whisky in his own chambers to help dull aches and aid him to sleep on those nights he'd been recovering.

  Instead of responding to his father, Ian went back to watching Ailios weave through the room, placing food upon the tables and refilling tankards. Although her demeanor remained calm, she gifted the diners with a smile or short comment. He could not hear what she spoke of, but the male whom she conversed with returned the smile. She'd looked familiar to him upon arrival. Perhaps he'd seen her when riding through the village. Strange he'd not bedded such a fetching wench, but then again, if she was married, he'd no doubt kept his distance.

  Unlike the other serving wenches, Ailios carried herself with the grace of an upper born female. He turned to his sister who sat at his elbow. "Where did Ailios come from?"

  Fiona searched for the wench and her lips curved at spotting her. "Ah yes, the beautiful Ailios Connery," she replied and shrugged. "Her husband, Hamus, died not long ago. She came here asking for safe harbor."

  "Why would she need shelter, did he not leave provision for her?"

  "Aye, he did, Hamus worked for a long time as the village's actuary. From what I hear, they'd only married a few years ago. He was much older and his eldest son made to not only move into their house, but into her bed as well."

  Not surprising given the beauty of the woman. Ah yes, he'd visited the actuary many times. She must have been present at least once.

  How had he not noticed her before? Her plush curves beckoned even a near-blind man to reach for her. Long burnished tresses braided and wrapped about her head, gave the illusion of a crown and her eyes, gods, they were the color of the autumn leaves.

  As if sensing his regard, her gaze met his and Ian lifted his hand to call her forward. She swallowed visibly, but neared. He found it impossible to keep from studying her swaying hips.

  She bent her head and kept her eyes lowered. "My laird, you require something?"

  "Aye," Ian croaked and then cleared his throat. "I would like someone to help my father to his quarters."

  The golden jewels met his for an instant and a jolt of energy shook him. Ailios's eyes widened slightly, as if she too felt it before lowering them once again. "Aye, I will get someone to assist him to bed."

  Fiona's nudge forced him to drag his attention away from the now retreating woman. "Father is not well. Should we send someone to fetch the village doctor again?"

  "Nay, it will do no good, you know that." Ian placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. "His time nears, we must be strong for our mother."

  Ian tapped his father's shoulder and the laird lifted his drooping head as Ailios and another maid neared from behind them. "They come now to help you to bed, father. Perhaps you should remain there tomorrow, get some rest."

  The laird did not reply right away, instead, he looked to his wife who leaned onto his shoulder. The laird kissed her head and Ian's heart constricted. "Aye, I will do that, son." He coughed and took one last draw of his ale. "Hopefully tomorrow will be a day of peace and I can do so. It's imperative that we join with the McLeans if we are to remain safe from invasion by the Campbells. The bastards surround us now and if they decide to attack, we are powerless without the larger clan's alliance."

  "It will happen, father, I will ensure our people's safety."

  "Yer a good lad," his father told him and allowed the two maids to help him up.

  "I will go with them," Fiona stood and took her mother's arm.

  For a long while Ian remained at the head table, the food in the trencher now unappealing. Just as unappealing was the ideas of going to his chambers alone. Perhaps, he could find a willing bed partner for a few hours.

  A sweet floral scent got his attention; Ailios was clearing dishes with swift movements.

  "Bed her, but do so soon." His father's words repeated in his head. Would she be willing? When she reached for his plate, Ian wrapped his fingers around her wrist to get her attention. "Would you see about my bath tonight, Ailios?"

  She stiffened visibly, her head snapping up. Wide eyes jerked to him and she nodded once before hurrying from the room.

  Ian waived another wench forward to refill his tankard. Turned out to be a waste of effort. It seemed the breathtaking Ailios would not be willing and he was not one to force a woman to his bed.

  Chapter 30

  Ailios's heart hammered against her breastbone so hard, she placed her hand against it. Gasping for breath, she rushed into the kitchen, dropped the dirty dishes into a tub, and continued on outside.

  Bent at the waist she took great gulps, forcing the cool air into her lungs. Not him. A tremor shook her. Not Ian.

  "What ails you, Ailios?" Cook stuck her head out from the kitchen doorway, her brows drawn. "Are ye ill?"

  Yes sickened. "No, I am just overheated," she replied straightening. She would not do anything to warrant being sent away. With nowhere to go, her options were limited. After a few more breaths, she headed back inside.

  Time went too fast and just an hour later, the cleaning was completed. Ailios hauled heated water up to Ian's chamber. Luckily he and his brother Lachlan had designed a pulley system that saved the hard labor of having to carry pails up the stairs. The heated water was lifted by an intricate combination of wooden pails and rope. Bathwater rose to the upper floor once warmed in the kitchen. In the bedchamber she tipped the container to allow the hot water into the large wooden tub she'd had the kitchen lads
carry into the room.

  Once the water level was satisfactory, she placed a rag onto the last container to let Cook know no more water was required for the moment.

  Ailios hurried to the side table and placed several drying cloths and lay a large slab of soap on the small surface. Trembling she rushed toward the door, hoping to escape before the soon to be laird appeared. He'd asked she assist in his bathing. Why did he not have his man do it?

  The soap thumped onto the floor and she groaned with disappointment. Once again she went to the small table, picked up the soap and placed it back atop the cloth. She took a step back and slammed into a hard wall of warmth and muscle.

  With a gasp she swung around and moved away from him. "I apologize, laird, I was about to leave. Unless you require more assistance."

  His deep blue gaze locked with hers. He then looked toward the tub. "Thank you."

  Ailios fought the urge to run from the room and waited for him to send her away. Prayed he would.

  "My sister tells me you are recently widowed," he told her not moving toward the tub, but remaining stock-still. "How long has it been?"

  "Just finished my mourning period, sire, it's been a year." In need to keep busy, Ailios went to the table and straightened the drying cloths. "I am indebted to your family for allowing me to come and work here."

  He grunted in response and moved toward his bed. All air left her lungs at his leisurely movements. Ailios forced herself to remain ramrod straight not wanting to show how much she wished to be elsewhere. At the same time, she couldn't keep from looking at him.

  When he bent to unlace his boots, she couldn't help but admire the sight before her. His wide shoulders moved up and down while his muscular arms bunched under the thin tunic fabric. Although Ian McDougall was a seemingly reserved man, he desired her. She'd seen the heat in his eyes, sensed his constant regard since arriving at the keep just weeks earlier.