Wicked Highland Ways

by Mary Wine

  She drew in a stiff breath. “I know ye have treated me kindly.”

  Far more so than she’d ever thought possible in a world where wives were chattel to their husbands.

  Bothan locked gazes with her. “Then get out of that wet dress before ye catch a chill. When I dreamed of having ye in bed for hours on end, there was no fever.”

  “We can return to the tower.” She looked toward the Gunn stronghold.

  “We’re farther from it than ye seem to realize, lass,” Bothan advised her.

  Darkness was rapidly falling. Brenda expected to see the lights of the village in the distance, but even after she blinked, there was nothing there to welcome her with the promise of shelter.

  “I came after ye because ye do nae know me land,” he explained further. “The bog the calf was stuck in is nae the only one here. If we go trying to return to the towers now, we’re just as likely to end up needing to be rescued ourselves. The night will be long and chilly, though, before the sun rises to illuminate our plight.”

  While she’d been worried about the muck between her toes, he’d realized they needed to find shelter for the night. He’d chosen a space between tall rocks, where the sand promised a soft spot to rest. The fire was blazing now, and he’d shaken his clothing out and laid the garments over the rocks facing the fire. Steam was rising from the fabric as the heat dried it. He picked something else up, and she realized it was her cloak. He gave it a shake before laying it down on the sand between the rocks.

  “Get out of yer dress, Brenda,” Bothan repeated. “The night is about to turn very cold.”

  He’d left his boots on, showing he was thinking while she’d been busy reacting.

  Of course.

  From the moment she’d met him, Bothan had struck her as hardened. It was a compliment. One she didn’t bestow lightly. The Highlands were a place where strength meant the difference between life and death. Just as the calf had needed to find the strength to escape the bog, men who lived in the northern parts of the country had to employ their wills against the elements if they planned on surviving.

  Bothan thrived in his home.

  It was etched into the hard muscles covering his body. From his head to his arms to his thighs, there were solid, corded muscles on display.

  She felt a different heat as she blinked and looked away from his cock. This warmth was spreading up from inside her as she pulled the knot free from where it was nestled between her breasts. A little tug and it opened, allowing her to work the lace loose. She looked at Bothan, but he wasn’t watching her.

  See? He’s focused on doing what he must to make certain we do nae freeze…

  She needed to prioritize as well.

  And stop acting like such a frightened rabbit. He’d already had her. Well, in truth, they’d had each other, for she’d demanded him just as much as he’d taken her. The memory of the way he’d left her surfaced, kindling a new desire to have him please her again.

  So why deny yerself tonight? Do ye nae keep saying ye will be yer own woman? Why are ye allowing others to force ye into submission?

  Brenda let the idea rub her temper until she was pulling the lace free from her bodice without a care for her modesty. He was bare and he knew what a woman looked like, so there was no reason for her to be skittish.

  * * *

  Patience wasn’t his strongest trait.

  Bothan gritted his teeth and adjusted the length of wool that made up his kilt.

  All he wanted to do was watch Brenda disrobe.

  The need was fierce, clawing at his insides. She’d always pushed him to the edge of control, and the truth was he craved more of the feeling.

  But he also longed for her trust.

  She was pulling the lace loose that held the front of her bodice closed. He moved around the fire, picking at the drying wool while she snuck little glances at him.

  Christ, ye want to kill her first husband.

  Along with every one of the man’s family members, who had made her endure a marriage where she’d been beaten down and taught to distrust men. Fine, he was no fool, and he understood marriage was a business. But there seemed too many who forgot it was also a Christian union.

  She rose from it, though. Became strong. It was what drew ye to her.

  Bothan recalled the first time he’d seen her, at a market harvest time fair where she’d boldly debated what the gossips were saying about her.

  * * *

  Brenda made to step around him.

  “Ye did no’ allow me to introduce meself,” he insisted.

  He stepped into her path. She spotted other men wearing his colors hanging back, making sure no one interrupted them.

  “Ye are a Gunn.”

  “And you.” His expression became serious. “Ye are Brenda Grant, widow of a Campbell, who took Bhaic MacPherson as yer lover before ye landed in the keeping of the Earl of Morton.”

  “I’m no’ flattered by how much ye know.”

  He contemplated her for a moment. “Ye should be. I do nae waste me time, Mistress Grant.”

  “If that is so, why is it that ye listen to so much gossip?” she asked pointedly.

  “Clearly ye do nae know what a sensation ye cause when ye pass by.” He offered her a soft chuckle. “There I was this morning, set to enjoy a mug of fine cider, no’ even looking at the lasses.”

  “Ye strike me as the sort of innocent to be doing such a thing on harvest festival morning.” Her voice was dripping sarcasm, but it was also husky, betraying how much she was enjoying the encounter.

  His lips thinned in a purely sensual fashion. One that sent a touch of heat into her cheeks.

  “Aye, as I said, ye passed by.” He made a walking motion with his fingers. “And the good wives began to chatter about ye.”

  “And of course their word is so very reliable,” Brenda said and then bit her lip.

  “Which is why I doubt ye truly intend to dance naked under the moon tonight.” He sounded pitifully disappointed, even pushing his lower lip out. “Truth be told, I was holding out hope for that one to be true. I do nae suppose ye might consider being generous toward me opinion of ye?”

  Brenda snorted at him and propped her hands on her hips but couldn’t help but admit to being amused by his humor. Not that she intended to allow him to know it.

  “Bothan Gunn.” He opened his arms and offered her a low courtesy, but he winked at her as he rose back to his full height.

  * * *

  The memory had replayed so often in his mind. Nights when he should have been focused on matters of the Gunn chiefdom or selecting a suitable wife, he’d been reliving that moment when he’d spied her auburn hair and determined stance. She’d boldly kept her chin high as good wives sent her disapproving looks.

  Christ, ye want her to dance naked beneath the moon with ye tonight.

  His mouth nearly watered, and he made sure to keep his back to her as he felt his cock harden and stand straight out from his body.

  His senses were heightened by his passion. He clearly heard the soft sound her dress made as it slumped to the ground. He caught the crunching sound her feet made as she stepped out of the garment and heard it hit the face of the rock to spread it out.

  “Ye can turn around, Bothan…”

  Brenda’s voice was husky and soft, like the first time he’d met her. He felt it ripple through him as his cock jerked with need.

  “Are ye finished being timid?” he asked her as he turned and let her see his rigid length.

  Brenda was staring straight at him, the fire dancing in her eyes. The orange light bathed her body, but what made him suck his breath in through gritted teeth was the way she stared at him.

  Straight at him.

  This was the woman who had so boldly taken a lover among the ranking lairds of Scotland. She was unashamed of
her passion, intent on having a full measure of pleasure just as any man experienced.

  She’d accept nothing less from him.

  And he wanted to measure up to her challenge more than anything he’d ever done.

  “I am ready to see ye,” she said boldly.

  He spread his arms wide, enjoying the way the darkness surrounded them and the firelight flicked across his skin. In that moment, he was hard and needy.

  “Then look yer fill and tell me what ye crave,” he advised her.

  * * *

  Brenda knew what she craved from him.

  The Church really did have a point about nakedness being sinful.

  Because for every eyelet she pulled her lace free of, a ripple of need shot through her. It built as steadily as the fire Bothan added more wood to, until she was full of anticipation. Her nipples had contracted into tight points, and it wasn’t due to the chill in the air.

  No. There was a fire in her belly, one which was burning fiercely.

  Taking her clothing off was a relief. Almost as if she’d freed herself from shackles. She might have left her smock on, but she knew it would be a cowardly action.

  She was suddenly finished with fear.

  So she tugged the garment up and over her head, baring herself completely. Bothan made a soft sound in the back of his throat. She watched the way he swept her from head to toe, and then his gaze returned to her breasts.

  “I made a mistake when I took ye before,” he informed her gruffly.

  “Is that so?” she asked. He was closing the distance between them, causing her insides to clench. Her heart was already racing, making her breath come in short pants.

  “Aye.” He reached her and cupped one of her breasts. “I failed to strip ye bare…and enjoy these.”

  He encircled her waist with one hard arm, bringing her to him as he leaned over and sucked one of her nipples. She gasped, arching back as pleasure jolted through her. Somehow, she’d never realized her breasts could be so sensitive. Bothan’s mouth was nearly too hot, and yet she bent back, offering her breast to him.

  “I want to spend hours with ye with naught but skin between us.” He’d lifted his head to speak to her. Brenda opened her eyes, locking gazes with him. The look in his eyes made her shudder. The hard promise there was both exciting and intimidating.

  He swept her off her feet and lowered her to the surface of the cloak. He’d chosen the spot well, for once they were down on the ground, the wind was cut by the rocks.

  And his body was warm.

  And hard.

  She reached for him, needing to pull him closer.

  “No’ so quickly, lass.” He was cupping her breast once more, kneading it as he teased the tight nipple with his thumb. “I’m going to demonstrate me merit as a lover.”

  “Perhaps I do nae care to have ye in command of me,” Brenda argued. She had no idea why she was intent on needling him, only that the urge came from deep inside her where impulses ruled.

  She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock. His teeth appeared as his lips curled back and his jaw tightened. His cock was covered in soft, smooth skin. Beneath it, though, he was rock hard. She drew her hand up to the head, teasing the slit on the top with her forefinger.

  “I will do me best to change yer thinking, Brenda,” he muttered before he pressed a hard kiss against her mouth.

  Brenda kissed him back. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair as she met him with all the passion boiling inside her. She didn’t want to be taken; she wanted to be his equal.

  “No.” He pulled his head away and clasped her wrist, pushing her arm above her head and holding her still. “I will no’ be hurried this time,” he warned her.

  She strained against his hold. Bothan kept her in place, watching her try to dislodge him. She should have detested the feeling, and yet there was something primal about it. Somewhere deep inside her, she enjoyed knowing how strong he was.

  “Fine,” she whispered with a smile. “I thought ye came for me because ye wanted something more than a submissive wife.”

  He snorted at her. But his fingers loosened around her wrist as his eyes narrowed.

  “Ye test me, woman.”

  “Good,” she declared as she curled up and pushed him over.

  He rolled onto his back as she came up on top of him. A gleam of male satisfaction in his eyes betrayed how much he liked what she was doing.

  “There is merit in listening to yer ideas, wife,” he informed her as he lifted his hands and cupped her breasts. “Are ye going to dance by the moonlight for me, then?”

  She laughed softly at the reference to their first meeting. His cock was pressed to her slit, the hard length of it driving her nearly insane. Fluid was seeping from her body, coating his length. She moved her hips, thrusting forward so that she slid along his member.

  “Do ye want me to stand and dance?” she asked.

  He slid his hands down to her hips, gripping them and holding her in place. Raw need glittered in his eyes. She curled her hands and raked her nails down his chest, drawing them along his skin with just enough force to make him growl at her. He started to rise, but she pushed him back down.

  “Stay,” she ordered. “Be mine.”

  His expression darkened, but he remained on his back. But he wasn’t as submissive as he appeared. Bothan reached forward into the front of her slit where he teased the little pearl hidden there.

  She gasped, rising up in surprise. He sat up, clasping her body with one arm while he continued to finger her clit.

  “As ye will belong to me, Brenda,” he promised her.

  She was twisting as he held her steady and drove her closer to the edge of reason with his finger. His cock had straightened up beneath her, and the way he held her turned the situation to his favor because she was helpless there as he continued to rub her clit. The head of his cock had slipped into the opening of her passage, the fluid from her body coating it and making her quiver with anticipation.

  “I want…more…” she rasped out, unwilling to allow her pride to keep her from the deep satisfaction she craved.

  “As do I.”

  Brenda locked gazes with him. His eyes were full of the need to claim her. She struggled to send him just as fierce a look, but her body was too needy. He seemed to know her too well, as though he was in tune with her passion. He pressed harder, bending her back so he could sit up all the way.

  “I want to make ye see I am the only one who will ever satisfy ye.”

  Her knees were still on either side of him, but he bent her back, and his hips kept her thighs spread for him. She might have been on top, but she was very much his captive in that moment. He thrust his fingers into her passage, sending her closer to climax. She heard her own little sounds of desperation and was powerless to contain them.

  “Ye will call me husband,” he rasped out before he pressed his fingers against her clit and rubbed it again.

  This time there was no stopping the moment. Her body wanted satisfaction too much, and she jerked as pleasure tore through her. It was sharp and quick.

  Too quick.

  Her breath caught on a sob as she came back down, her body throbbing but still yearning for something more.

  “That…wasn’t…what I wanted!” she said.

  “I know.”

  Brenda opened her eyes, caught in the grip of frustration. But his face was a mask of determination. He caught the side of her face, holding her prisoner as their gazes fused.

  “I can satisfy ye,” he promised her in a hard tone. “But there is a price.”

  He suddenly turned them over, pressing her down onto her back as he rolled over and settled between her thighs. He lowered his weight onto her, stopping just shy of hurting her.

  “Ye will…call me…husband.”


  His breath teased her lips, awakening the delicate surface and leaving her rolling them in to moisten them. His eyes flashed with hard intent before he was tilting his head and pressing his mouth against hers.

  It was a hard kiss. But she shivered and tried to raise her arms so she might pull him even closer.

  Bothan denied her, pinning her wrists to the surface of the cloak while he opened her mouth with his and swept his tongue across the sensitive skin of her lips.

  He is going to make ye mindless…

  Brenda realized his intent, but the truth was she wasn’t interested in thinking about it.

  Only in experiencing it.

  She was still at war with herself. Thinking one thing while craving another. At that moment, they were combining to produce a passion so hot it was melting everything, leaving her twisting in the heat of the moment.

  He lifted his head, looking down at her. Satisfaction appeared on his face a moment before he released her wrists and placed his hands beneath her knees.

  “Ye belong to me,” he said as he pressed her legs up past her waist to bare her slit to him. “And I am going to enjoy showing ye just how much ye will like being mine.”

  His cock was poised over her open slit. She watched him rub it against her folds before he thrust into her. Not in one hard push. No, Bothan controlled the motion, savoring it, with a discipline that made her want to scream.

  “I want ye!” she cried out. “Get on with it.”

  He growled at her, sank deep inside her. “I know me land…do ye wonder why I did no’ take ye back to the tower?”

  She opened her eyes wide, only to find him watching her with an expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

  He was planning on being ruthless.

  She’d sensed it in him, and now it was directed at her. She’d denied him openly, and he was going to make her claim him just as publicly.

  His lips twitched as her eyes widened.

  “I want to hear ye scream,” he confessed.

  “I will not be yer toy!” she declared.

  His lips split into a grin that was far more menacing than anything else. He pulled his cock free and pressed it back into her with a hard motion of his hips, sending a shaft of pleasure straight through her.