Highlander of Mine

by Red L. Jameson

  “Ye’re simply invaluable to me,” Rory said. “There’s no need to worry about comin’ back anytime soon. Stay with yer ma. If my ma was—well, if she were in Scotland and her health was...well—I would be at her side too. Ye’re a good son to do what ye do. A good man too. And that means the best for me and our troops. Don’ worry ‘bout a thing. I’ll do some training with the men while here in Durness. Then, when yer mother’s fully recovered, we’ll look at the options again.”

  Slowly Duncan nodded. “Heard the laird is off to visit yer ma in France?”

  Steeling his reaction even more, Rory nodded. Yes, that was another one of the puzzle pieces that had been all too easy to put in place. With his brother gone, he could take the title uncontested.

  “That’s nice,” Duncan said. “Hope all is well with her.”

  Rory nodded again. “She’s fine. The lairdship just wanted to see his mother.”

  “And I forgot to ask earlier, but where are Evan and his brothers?”

  Damnation, Duncan and his questions. Rory tried not to twitch to give away any sign that the young troops Duncan asked of were now in Cromwell’s captivity and would be shipped to the American colonies or the Fever Islands as indentured servants. Aye, those seven-year indentured servants had bought him time and his clan’s future.

  “They—well, Evan fell for a tavern wench. He wooed her and I think she appreciated the young lad’s attention. I let them stay in Brae for a few extra nights. They promised to be back within the week.”

  Duncan nodded then cracked a lopsided grin. “The lad’s keen on a woman, eh? Good for him. Good for him.”

  Rory nodded and smiled himself. ‘Twould be difficult to keep with the lies, but as he made his excuses to leave Mrs. Cameron’s house and the unsuspecting Duncan, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he could tell everything to Fleur.

  Chapter 27

  Even with only the moon and stars streaking their silvery light through the open windows, Fleur saw Helen no longer rested in fits with a glistening face, due to her fever. She appeared peaceful and even held a tiny smile. Fleur couldn’t help but grin back at Helen as she slept. Her heart felt as if it were swelling with warm, sweet...love. It couldn’t be anything else. She knew she loved Helen. It was hard not to. Not just because Helen looked so much like Rachel, but because she was completely honest. There were no pretenses. She’d made mistakes, but through it all she had just wanted love. That resonated with Fleur.

  However, Fleur knew as much as she craved love, she was also terrified of it.

  Everything is transitory, Helen had said. That frightened Fleur. But she was so tired of being fearful.

  Fleur leaned over and gently kissed Helen on the forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. No more long vigils of watching over Helen, praying her lungs kept lifting with the needed air. Something nagged at Fleur to follow the events to its logical end—Helen’s cancer had metastasized, after all. More caring and grave concern would come. But her mind wouldn’t grind any gear to finish the thought. She wouldn’t—couldn’t let it. Perhaps it was her heart not letting her think too far in advance.

  Leaving Helen’s chamber, Fleur quickly tiptoed through the house, searching for Duncan. She might be scared of what she felt, scared of his reaction, but she also knew she couldn’t stop herself any more. She wanted Duncan. It was that simple.

  No, it was a bit simpler than that.

  She loved him.

  When she couldn’t find him in the dark home, she glanced out one of the large arched windows in the back of the house and saw a light in the barn. The man was trying to retreat from her. Maybe he was scared too. Well, she had attacked him earlier, then avoided all eye contact like a coward. Jeez.

  It was time to be a woman.

  Wrapping a faded blue plaid around her shoulders, she ran out into the night. Although it hadn’t rained for a few days, the soil under her feet was soft and sometimes squishy. But it felt exalting to jog through. Soft grass met her toes closer to the barn, but then gave way to a hardened path, where animals had trudged over long ago. Helen had gotten rid of the barn dwellers after her sons had been captured.

  God, the tragedies Duncan had endured. She needed to find him, talk to him, make him smile, kiss him, then . . .

  Her body zipped with the thought of Duncan touching her. For such a huge man, he knew how to be gentle. It made her feel special. It made her feel loved.

  He’d never said the words, but she hoped . . .

  He hadn’t heard her enter the clean barn, too busy making a bed for himself out of the straw in a spare bin with piles of blankets. She stepped on some straw, finally making a loud enough crunch that Duncan straightened with fists near his chest. He relaxed his pose immediately, and Fleur rushed to him. She couldn’t help herself.

  He grunted when she made impact, flinging her arms around his neck, and he stumbled back, holding her tight. Lurching to the side, he then tried to counter, but eventually fell back into the pile of straw and blankets.

  They laughed when Fleur pulled back enough to look down at her captor. Somehow in the fall she found her legs and arms spread around him, holding him down. He was sitting more than laying, since many of the blankets were behind his back.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  His face sobered. “Well, my ma seems much better. And I figured I should stay out here.”

  “Without me?”

  His fingers loosened their grip around her.

  “Are you worried about what your mother will think if you sleep in my bed?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but, aye, now I do worry ‘bout that too.”

  She nodded, wanting to be respectful of Helen, but then she realized what he’d said. “Too? As in you worried about something else before I mentioned your ma. What else is there? Why don’t you want to sleep with me?”

  “I didn’ ken ye’d want me to.” His voice was quiet, but rasped.

  Some part of her snapped. This was the moment when she no longer wanted the luxury of her fear. It had made him feel as if she hadn’t wanted him, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. She needed him.

  Wrapping her arms tight around his neck, she caressed his cheek against her own. His three-day-old beard was surprisingly soft, but it did have its blunt ends, roughly tickling her neck and face.

  “I want you to,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be disrespectful of Helen, but I don’t want to be too far away from you ever again.”

  Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight vise. She couldn’t breathe for a moment, but that was like love, wasn’t it? For just a few seconds it grasps, no matter how you wrestle with it, and all you can think of is how crazy, scary, and so freaking fantastic love is. Then you can breathe again, and life is better than ever before.

  “I worried...after, well, after this afternoon, when we’d...when I . . .”

  She pulled away and smiled at him. “I attacked you. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Are ye?”

  Snorting a laugh, she shook her head. “Actually, no. But I don’t want to pressure you to make love to me.”

  He gave a wide grin. “I didn’ feel pressured.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, I did make you—”

  “Ye didn’ make me do anythin’, Fleur. I was very much a willing participant.”

  She felt him harden at the same time he’d said “very,” which had sounded like verrah, his “r” rolling through her chest. His reaction, his accent, made her stomach clench, her breasts felt so heavy. Instantly her body reacted, feeling as if it were melting with desire.

  “Will you...make love to me again?”

  He swallowed and looked around the barn. “But not here. Ye need a lovely place, where—”

  “I want it to be here. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

  His smile turned wicked and his fingers dug into her hips, grinding his length against her. But then he blinked and
slightly shook his head. “Nay, ye need it to be special. Ye need—”

  “I just need you, Duncan. It’s special no matter where, because I’m making love with you.”

  “Ah, my Fleur,” he whispered, then caressed one of her cheeks with his hand.

  Savoring the feel of his roughened, calloused palm against her visage, she could only think of how much she wanted him. Her fingertips found his wide powerful chest. Sliding them down, she pulled his shirt from his kilt. Or tried to. In the end he had to help, pulling part of his plaid down his shoulder, then lifting the white linen from his giant form. She almost squealed in delight when she saw his bare torso. His shoulders were so broad, so muscled. His deltoids rounded perfectly. When he moved to hold her hips again, she was fascinated by the fibers gracefully gliding under his skin...skin flecked with a few almost translucent golden freckles and so many thin white scars. Most of his healed injuries seemed small, but a few ran long ragged lines over his perfectly chiseled body. She scuttled her fingers along a few of those scars, wondering about the battles he’d fought, suddenly protective of him and never wanting him to fight again. He was so big, so male. And for whatever reason, it surprised her his massive chest was hairless. However, under his belly button was the beginning of a dark red trail of hair that disappeared under his kilt. She wanted to kiss every naked inch of him, but she let her hands explore first.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Ach.” He grimaced. “I ken ye mean that as a compliment—”

  “Oh, and I do,” she said as her fingers drifted down to where his rectus abdominis created hills and valleys perfect for her hands to travel. “You have a six pack.”

  “A what?”

  She giggled, feeling his erection press her hot core a little more as she laughed. That made her groan and sway her head back, relishing the feeling as she swayed against him. “It’s—you—you’re perfect.”

  He grunted, a sound that seemed to indicate both understanding of her meaning as well as marveling in the sensation as she moved on him.

  His hands latched around the back of her neck, then he caught her mouth with his lips, kissing her in a frenzy. She couldn’t seem to catch up, but simultaneously she wanted to go faster, wishing Duncan were already naked. Having made love the way they had, she had yet to experience the full intimacy of his bare body against hers. Even the thought made her breasts ache, the apex of her legs flare with even more fire.

  Quickly, his hands glided down her waist, back to her hips, this time pushing and pulling her along his erection. He groaned as she placed her hands on his shoulders for better balance. Her tongue shot in his mouth, then one of his hands was once more at the nape of her neck. Fisting her hair gently, he tilted her head and thrust his tongue in her mouth. He began to time his actions, so that every time his tongue met hers, he’d slide her heat against his hardness.

  Her body tightened, already wanting the release of an orgasm. It felt so good, and all Duncan was doing was rubbing against her.

  Pulling away from the kiss, she whispered, “Tell me what you want me to do, Duncan.”

  He didn’t respond, but kept grinding against her. Every time he moved, more of her skirts were pushed aside. She was down to only a few layers now, making it hard to think straight. But she wanted to do this right, she wanted Duncan to enjoy it. He’d had to be responsible for so much at such an early age, and the least she could give him was a rocking sex life. It’s not like she wouldn’t get anything out of the deal herself. Feeling his hands on her hips, touching his body so intimately, learning all those defined muscles by sight and touch...Yeah, it wasn’t like she was altruistic.

  “Tell me what you want me to do, Duncan,” she softly repeated.

  He held her still then, glancing into her eyes, his own were bright green and bursting orange. Something passed through his gaze. Some kind of mischief?

  She giggled. “I want to make this good for you. What do you want me to do?”

  “Ah, see, ‘tis always good with ye.”

  “We’ve only done this once before.”

  “As I said, ‘tis always good with ye.”

  She laughed a little louder. “But I want...I want to make you happy. You made me so happy last time. Now it’s your turn. What are your fantasies? What can I do for you?”

  He swallowed.

  “Maybe you don’t fantasize about me?” She was surprised how much it hurt to think, let alone to say it out loud. God, she wanted him to think about her, dream about her, because he’d been all she could think of.

  “Nay,” he chuckled softly. “I fantasize of ye.” He paused, swallowing again. “Do ye fantasize of me?”

  She glided her hands over his huge body, from his shoulders down to his strong calloused hands. “Oh, yes. I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

  “Since we first met?”

  She nodded, her hand finding one of his nipples and lightly pinching the small pebble. He inhaled a sharp hiss, his eyes flickering shut.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Aye.”

  “What else do you want me to do?”

  “I want ye to sit on my face.”

  She stopped, but couldn’t pull her palms away from his iron-like chest. As he opened his eyes, looking a wee bit guilty, she asked, “But, well, that’s what I would want. What do you want?”

  He took a sharp breath again. “That’s what I dream of. I want to taste ye on my tongue. I want to feel ye come against me.”

  As he spoke, her body convulsed. She wasn’t too sure, but it felt as if he’d given her a small orgasm just by telling her what he wanted. Shuddering, she gripped at his shoulders again for balance.

  “Do I offend ye?”

  She shook her head, then smiled wide. “No, not at all. You just—I’m going to fantasize about this when we’re done.”

  He softly chuckled, but the levity stopped quickly. “Ye—ye don’t ken me perverse?”

  “God, no. You do remember that I’m the girl who insisted we make love at the back of your house against a wall, right?”

  His smile slowly came back, this time decidedly more roguish. “There are other things we could try.” Yet he shyly looked away. “But we don’ have to.”

  She placed her hands around his face, forcing him to look at her. “Yes, please. Let’s try it all.”

  He moaned and leaned forward to kiss her sweetly. Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I have to get ye out of ye kirtle.”

  “Agreed.”

  They both chuckled as they unfastened the black dress in a hurry. He kissed down her neck as he untied her petticoats. Her clothes were flung somewhere. She didn’t care, but loved it when Duncan lifted his legs a little, which gained her the position of his mouth level with her chest. He clamped down on her nipple through her corset, and the sucking motion, even through the fabric, was intoxicating. She moaned and tunneled her fingers through his hair, easily undoing the tie in the back. This was the way she liked him best. His vibrant red hair free, waving around his face a little wild. Looking down at him—oh, how she loved seeing him like this—her heart warmed.

  “Duncan, I want to kiss you, please.”

  He lowered his legs immediately, where she could lunge at his lips, loving the way he reciprocated her enthusiastic kiss. He slid his hands up her stocking-clad thighs. Breaking their kiss, she glanced at his big fingers finally finding their way past her hose to her bare skin. As he moved, her shift bunched up around her hips.

  He bent his legs again, giving more elevation, then cupped her breasts.

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  He reached in, squishing her breasts momentarily, but then both of them popped out of her corset, just her nipples exposed, contracting hard the instant the air touched them. Duncan moaned himself, then suckled one of her nipples, while the other he rolled in a delicate pinch. Gently he nibbled, making Fleur rock against him. Only, now she was no longer sweetly placed against
his length, but his stomach. Wiggling, she tried to find his hardness, which made him chuckle, but then he groaned as she found his cock against the apex of her legs.

  He was so erect now that his penis was flush against his stomach. This fascinated Fleur, making her want to tear off his kilt and see for herself.

  She was nearly going to when Duncan whispered, “Oh, Jesus.”

  His eyes stared down at her. By wiggling so much, she’d lifted her shift, revealing her sex against his plaid.

  “Oh.”

  He glanced back up at her. “I need ye. Need ye now.”

  He gripped her hips and lifted her, while lowering himself.

  “Duncan,” she throatily whispered.

  He kissed his way down, through her corset and shift, but there was no preamble for what he wanted to do. He boosted her so her knees rested on either side of his head, then without a teasing gesture, so much as a tormenting kiss, he licked her right down the middle of her sex.

  Her hips bucked forward and up. Fearing she might hurt him with her out of control body, she tried to raise herself from his tongue, but he anchored her down by lacing his arms around her hips. Instantly his hot, wet tongue thrust into her channel. Her body snapped and rocketed when he filled her—a bit surprised she had been so ready for him. He darted his tongue in and out of her, making her feel dizzy, and left her scrambling to hold herself upright by the wall of the barn.

  “Oh, Duncan,” she could hardly say.

  Then his wickedly wonderful tongue slid up and around her clitoris, where he lavished that nub with quick flicks. She moaned and tried so hard not to buck into his face. One of his hands climbed her body, finding her breast and cupping it. Glancing down—her raspberry nipples free from the confines of her clothing, his fingers caressed one of those berries, Duncan’s head between her thighs—it was enough for a spasm to rip through her. Maybe it wasn’t quite an orgasm, but whatever it was felt wonderful and built the pressure in her body. She pulled her shift farther away from her lap, seeing Duncan’s intense eyes as he gazed up. He looked as though he was smiling while he circled her clit repeatedly, making her close her eyes to savor the feel of where he touched, licked, and now sucked. Arching her back, she hardly noticed when he forced her hips to lower all the more over his face. His tongue darted in her, and this time she didn’t stop herself from bucking into him. He moaned as if that was what he wanted all along.