Caitríona chuckled, “You do need to go home, Cici,” she told her sister, eyeing the devilish glint in the twins’ eyes. They apparently had more mischief up their sleeves.
With a nod, Ciara swept everyone out the door, barely giving Sam time to size up Alec and proffer a hard hand for his handshake.
When they were finally alone, Alec grinned down at her. “I missed you,” he said.
Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her; open-mouthed, intense kisses that made her toes curl as she wound her arms around his neck. Desire coursed through her as she clung to him, and in two seconds, she was wet. Alec always seemed to have that effect on her, she mused dimly. Just one touch and she was good and ready. How had she ever thought that she was over him, she wondered?
His hands trailed expertly down to her chest and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Caitríona moaned into his mouth, almost light-headed with passion as he loved her with his lips.
“I can’t wait! I have missed this for more than two months,” he growled as he bent her over the back of a sofa and deftly raised her skirt.
Caitríona looked back at him over her shoulder, her heart in her eyes as he hurriedly unbuckled his fly. His gaze met hers and he leaned forward and took her lips in a slow, tender kiss as he slid into her pussy from behind, sheathing himself to the hilt in one deft move.
Caitríona gasped automatically as she wriggled her hips beneath his, moaning into his mouth as he began to rock against her, thrusting into her again and again and again.
His hand reached in front of her and began to squeeze her breast, kneading the swollen flesh tenderly as he made wild torrid love to her. His other hand reached in front of her and stroked her tiny nub of flesh rhythmically as moisture seeped onto his fingers.
Caitríona moaned, her breath thin and wild as she strained against his hand while his finger played with her clit and his large dick plowed into her from behind. She was losing her mind, she thought frantically, almost sobbing as he loved her.
“You are so wet, baby,” Alec crooned.
“Yes! Please!” she moaned, not even knowing what she was begging for.
He increased his tempo, fucking her faster, faster, harder until she was coming apart in his arms and screaming his name, bucking and undulating beneath his large powerful body with the force of her orgasm.
Caitríona drifted back to earth slowly, aware that Alec had stopped moving. Apparently, he had come too, she realized as he leaned forward and pecked her cheek lightly, before pulling out of her and sliding to the floor in the semblance of a dead faint.
Caitríona groaned, surprised to find her legs could barely support her. She slowly lowered herself onto the floor beside him and sprawled on his chest, her hair falling into her eyes as she strove to regain her breath.
“That was amazing,” he gasped, his hand coming up to hold her close to him.
Caitríona dropped a light kiss onto his chin, too winded to reply.
“You’re amazing,” he repeated, one large hand caressing her back as he held her tighter.
Caitríona murmured. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Alec chuckled and his hands tightened around her. She must have dozed off because about thirty minutes later, she dimly realized that someone was kissing her nipples, and biting them gently.
Still half-asleep, she murmured, “Alec, all this sex can’t be good for the baby.”
It was when he froze against her that she realized what she had said. Her eyes shot open in dismay and she stared up at him, her wide gray eyes clashing with his.
“Um, I didn’t mean ”
“Are you pregnant?” he asked.
Caitríona stared up into his green eyes. She should lie; she had to. She couldn’t bear to trap him for life, chaining him with a child he didn’t want.
She licked her lip, “Alec”
“The truth,” he said quietly. “Don’t I deserve that much at least?”
He was right, he did deserve to know he had fathered a child. She nodded.
His eyes searched hers, wide and disbelieving, while she nervously waited for his reaction. He was so busy conquering Wall Street, surely he wouldn’t want
For the third time in a row, Alec didn’t let her complete a train of thought. He leaned down and tenderly, reverently, kissed her.
Heat engulfed her anew and she squirmed in his arms.
“Marry me,” he said the moment he lifted his head.
“”You’re crazy,” she accused, even as she determinedly squashed the inexplicable rush of pleasure at his words.
“Yes. About you. Marry me.”
Caitríona shook her head stubbornly. “I can’t marry you just because you feel guilty about the baby.”
His green eyes blazed into hers for a minute then he dipped one hand into his jean pocket and produced a velvet box. He flicked it open with one hand to reveal a diamond ring nestled in the middle.
Her eyes widened.
“This was never about the baby, Caitríona. I came here tonight intending to ask you to be my wife because I love you. Please say you’ll marry me.”
Caitríona reached up and slowly pulled his head down to hers as she took his lips in a wild, tumultuous kiss of her own. This man drove her wild with lust every chance he got; it was time she did the same, she decided as she rolled, taking him with her and placing him beneath her body.
“I love you too and yes, I’ll marry you,” she vowed softly as she took him into her body again and began to show him just how much she loved him.
THE END
Highlander Time Travel Romance
The Highland Locket
Jessica Savage
Copyright ©2015 by Jessica Savage. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work!
’TWAS on the 9th of September, a very beautiful day,
That a numerous English army came in grand array,
And pitched their tents on Flodden field so green
In the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and thirteen.
***
All was quiet across the hillside, the air eerily calm as before a storm. The occasional sound of a horse braying or a man shouting echoed across the valley, disturbing the peace. A bright sun gleamed across the vast blue of the skies as William Stewart waited for the signal for the battle to commence. He did not know that thousands of the men and boys around him would be dead by the time the sun rose again, one of them being his King. But he could not alter history or the lineage of over 10,000 men. It was possible, however, that he could shape his own destiny.
***
Rebecca Brooke stared out the window. All week the weather had been cold and dreadful, and a low mist had hung over the valley, blotting out the wonderful view that the brochure had promised. For a summer vacation, late August in Scotland had proved to be a damp squib so far. OK, so it was a working vacation, two months working on a 16th-century archaeological dig in Scotland. It had sounded pretty awesome at the time. Cool, yes. Cold–no!
It was her first proper assignment and her first time in Scotland. She would have preferred Egypt or India, but she had been allocated to Scotland instead. Although she had been told to pack for the weather, she had ignored the advice. Living most of her life in California, she spent most of the time in shorts and miniskirts that showed off her tanned and toned legs. What she needed here was a woolly jumper and thermal underwear! She had managed to buy a few pairs of thick leggings and wore these under her shorts and socks. It wasn’t her best look, but at least they showed off her figure. Most of the other girls wore thick, shapeless sweaters over practical-looking outdoor pants that didn’t do them any favors.
Not all was lost, however. There was James Anderson.
James was the lead archaeologist on the dig, a Scotsman and an expert on Scottish history. Not only was he handsome, but he was intelligent, too–the new sexy. With his deep auburn hair and brown eyes, no woman was safe. Not that he noticed her, or anyone else for that matter. By breakfast, he had already eaten and gone out to the dig, and when he returned, his nose was always in a book. At least he was eye candy.
Her cell phone rang in her pocket and Rebecca looked at the number. It was her Mom. She had only been here for a couple of days but she had already phoned twice to see if she was eating properly and if she had managed to see the Queen of England yet; it was a no to both.
“Hi, Mom.” She tried not to sound bored.
“Becky, sweetheart, how are you doing out there?”
“Same as ever. How’s Dad?”
“He’s good, sweetie. Are you eating OK?”
The conversation continued thus and Rebecca tried hard to stifle a yawn. Her Mom meant well, but sometimes she could be overbearing.
“Are you tired, honey? You sound tired.”
“No, Mom, I’m still a bit jet-lagged. We haven’t been able to go out on site yet because of the good old British weather.”
“Well, don’t forget you could check out our relations there. We do have a great Aunt, twice removed, if she’s still living. She must be at least 90 by now. Wait a minute, and I’ll get you the details.”
“Mom...” But it was too late. Rebecca could hear her Mother scrabbling around in her bag for one of her notebooks.
“Here we are. Have you got a pen handy? It’s Mrs Nora McPherson, the Old Vicarage, Selkirk. Did you get that, sweetie?”
Rebecca hadn’t any desire to visit a relative who wouldn’t know her from Adam, but agreed with her Mom just to shut her up. After she promised her mother not to fall into a Loch, the call was finally over.
Sammy, a bespectacled English girl, was walking towards her with a smile. She had done her best so far to avoid her. Sammy was a “jolly hockey sticks” type who was always trying to arrange outings and activities for the others.
“Hey, Rebecca, do you feel like braving the weather and heading into the nearest village this afternoon? We might even find a pub–do you want to come?”
They were all staying in a large rented property on the outskirts of a village, and Rebecca hadn’t had time yet to get her bearings.
Sammy was of the baggy jumper brigade and Rebecca felt nothing in common with her. She would rather stick pins in her thighs than have to make small talk.
Shaking her head, she stood up to leave when Johnny Hampshire strode into the room. Johnny was handsome yet arrogant. He was Scottish but had attended an English public school and spoke with a very clipped accent. He worked closely with James, and neither man had much time for each other. Unfortunately, Johnny had noticed her long blonde hair and treated her like the local bimbo. For once she wished she was wearing Sammy’s shapeless garb.
“Hey, Becky, fancy a stroll in the heather with me?” he grinned suggestively as he looked her up and down, before placing his hand territorially on her arm.
She wanted to tell him to go screw himself but was far too polite.
“Actually, I’ve already arranged to go out with Sammy.” Rebecca shrugged his arm away and his grin slipped into a sneer.
“Frigid bitch,” he muttered under his breath, the muscles clenching around his jaw line.
“What did you say?”
Johnny smiled again, but this time it made her shiver with its coldness. “I said have a great time” and with that, he turned and slowly left the room.
“What a creep.” Sammy made a face as he left and Rebecca laughed. Perhaps the afternoon wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
They ventured out into the mist and fog. The drizzle was light yet constant and Sammy loaned Rebecca a bright green jacket to wear. There was no one to see her wearing it in this place, and James would probably find it sexy.
The girls walked along a little path, and for once Rebecca was glad she had bought a decent pair of walking boots. She could feel the mud slip and slide beneath her feet and was glad that she wasn’t wearing her usual flimsy sneakers.
After half an hour, they had almost given up hope of finding a place when they stumbled across an old coaching house –The Bluebell Inn. Relieved, they staggered inside, dripping water across the polished floorboards as they made their way to the bar and ordered double whiskies to warm them through.
Rebecca looked around, amazed at the place–it was like stepping back in time. Apart from the two of them, the bar was occupied by several all men wearing tweed jackets and caps. They all stared back and nodded. She must have looked as strange to them as they did to her, in waterproof, fluorescent pink boots.
Sammy walked back with the glasses of golden whisky. The whisky tasted good. It was the best thing about Scotland so far. As it hit the back of her throat, her whole body seemed to glow.
“We’re just down the road,” Sammy laughed. “I bet we can see our place from here–I’ve just spoken to the barman, and this is the village of Selkirk.”
Rebecca coughed and started to choke on the amber nectar. Selkirk was the place where her old relative lived, and she was staying literally on the doorstep. A shiver ran through her as if there was something sinister about the connection, as if it was always meant to be. Maybe it was just a mixture of the cold and the alcohol or perhaps she was still jetlagged? She laughed at her foolishness. There was something surreal about the whole thing, standing in the middle of this Scottish pub, dripping wet and drinking whiskey among the tweed-clad locals that made the whole thing seem absurd. A couple of double whiskeys later and she had soon forgotten all about her ancient relative.
It was evening when they rolled out of the door and into the darkening air. The mist had lifted slightly and a smell of decay lingered. The night had started to draw in and wrap itself around the girls, chilling them to the bone as they hurried quickly along the road, this time taking the more direct route. The path took them past an old church, its old Norman tower looming in the darkness. Next to it, Rebecca could just make out the dark shadows of the ancient gravestones and, stopping for a second, she peered through the rusting iron railings and wondered if any of her ancestors were buried there. Sammy proceeded to pounce on her making ghostly wailing noises and Rebecca shrieked with delight as they ran on, not stopping until they were back inside, safe and sound.
It wasn’t late when they returned, but Rebecca was tired, still recovering her recent flight.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. If it weren’t for a noise outside her door, she would have probably slept all night. She stirred and reached on the bedside table for her watch. It was only 10:30 and she realized she had a terrible thirst from the whiskey. She always slept naked and quickly slipped into her fleecy dressing gown, a present from her Mom, before opening the door and setting off down the landing towards the stairs. There was some juice in the kitchen downstairs, and if she was quick no one would see her.
A noise on the landing made her stop in her tracks; perhaps it had been the same noise that woke her? All was quiet again apart from the muffled voices coming from the downstairs lounge.
A hand grabbed her arm as soon as her foot reached the top step.
“Becky.”
Johnny was suddenly in front of her, and from the smell on his breath, he had been drinking for most of the afternoon. His hand was squeezing her arm against the wall and she struggled against his strength. His eyes were like slits and there was a hint of cruelty behind the steely grey as he looked her up and down. She could feel her face start to flush as she realized that her gown was gaping at the front, and she quickly brought up her free hand to hold it together.
“For God’s sake, Johnny, let go of me. You’re hurting my arm.”
Licking his lips, Johnny sneered at her as he brought his face directly in front of hers.
“How about a littl
e kiss first?” His breath was hot and sour, and Rebecca turned her face away from him.
“Fucking little tease, I’ll show you.” He slammed his weight against her, pinning her to the wall as his free hand started to work its way underneath her gown, groping up her bare leg towards her thigh.
Rebecca was stunned. She disliked Johnny, but it was hard to believe he was capable of this, however drunk he might be. She tried to strike him and started to shout for him to stop, but he released her arm and covered her mouth to gag her. His other hand by now had slid to the fastenings of her gown and started pulling at the buttons. He was soon grabbing at the soft flesh of her naked breast, his hand rough and greedy as he squeezed at her nipple, now hard and erect in his fingers.
“I knew you wanted me, you little bitch,” he said, and as he thrust his pelvis into her stomach, she could feel his hardness rubbing against her.
At first she had been alarmed by his behavior, but now she felt powerless and sick at the thought of what he might do to her.
His hand was almost suffocating her, and she thought she might black out when suddenly he released her, his whole weight lifting away from her. Someone was coming up the stairs. Without hesitating, Johnny had disappeared around the corner just as James came into view. She looked startled as she pulled the robe around her, too stunned to cry.
“Are you OK?”
His voice was rich and deep, lilting softly on the question, a look of concern in his eyes.
She nodded quickly in reply. “Yes, I thought I heard a noise. I came out to see what it was.” Rebecca couldn’t look him in the eye, and she sensed that he didn’t believe her, his eyes searching the landing for something or someone.
“You’re sure you’re OK?”
BLU: Paranormal Fantasy Romance (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 3) Page 112