Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance)

by Dawn Halliday

  Something told her Niall could not only make her feel this good, but much, much better.

  Chapter Three

  Positioned beside him at the high table, Aileen glanced at Niall from beneath her lashes. He ate slowly and cut his meat deliberately, a stern look on his angular face. If he sensed her watching him, he didn’t show it.

  He was so handsome. She remembered the intensity of his eyes when he had looked at her yesterday from the courtyard, the set of his jaw as he’d brought himself to completion…

  “Would you like another tart?” she asked, her tone polite but loud enough for him to hear over the general pandemonium of the men gathered to break their fasts in the great hall.

  With an abrupt jerk of his head, he turned to her. For a long moment, he stared, his eyes filled with the same blue heat she’d seen in them yesterday. A warm flush spread across her chest. But then his look cleared and his eyes flickered away from her face as he reached for the plate she held out in offering. “Thank you, lady.”

  Holding her body still and schooling her expression to one of passivity, she watched him take a bite from the custard tart he’d selected. How she wanted to reach out and place her hand on top of his. Just a touch would be enough to settle her trembling nerves. But she couldn’t.

  She bowed her head and picked at the food on her plate. His proximity made her feel warm and jittery. Unsettled. The closer she was to him, the more difficult it was to ignore her base desires. She must find a way to occupy herself, to keep her distance from him—even though it might prove difficult when they traveled north.

  A part of her had no desire to stay away from him. She remembered how big his hands were as they stroked over his shaft, how her own body had reacted to him. How it ached for him. She wanted his fingers stroking deep inside her, her lips brushing over the silk of his cock…

  “Lady Aileen?”

  Aileen dropped her knife with a clatter and looked up. Niall was gazing at her with a guarded expression.

  “Aye?”

  “The laird has asked that I bring you to Ellandonan as soon as possible. How long do you think it will take you and your servants to prepare for the journey?”

  She blew out a breath through pursed lips, forcing herself to think. It wouldn’t be too difficult to complete the preparations for travel. Without Walter to complicate every step of the way, and with the help of her factor, Donegal, life at Dornoch had fallen into a smooth routine.

  She didn’t look forward to her meeting with the laird, but there was no reason to delay the inevitable. Shrugging, she said, “We shall leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Surely you will require more time to prepare your belongings, your servants—”

  She tried to sound stern. “I manage this castle efficiently, Niall. I require little in the way of baggage or servants. I will prepare my people for departure with time to spare.”

  “All right then,” he said mildly. “As you wish. Tomorrow it is.” He gave a small nod of acceptance and returned to his food, once again leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  Aileen looked down at her Mackenzie men mingling with his MacRaes in the hall. The mood at Dornoch had lightened considerably in the past few weeks, and she couldn’t blame anyone for feeling more relief than sorrow at Walter’s death. Niall’s men seemed to be as content as hers, and it made for a hall filled with cheerfulness, even after the somber early mass in the chapel.

  It seemed she and Niall were the only ones excluded from the jovial atmosphere. She slid a glance at him. He was frowning down at his food as if in deep thought.

  She didn’t want things to become awkward between them. What she had witnessed last night had been a mistake. They could never be with each other. She had a duty to the laird and to her future husband. Her virtue had never failed her, and she wouldn’t allow it to do so now.

  She and Niall had been friends once, after all, and they would be spending more time together. Taking a deep breath, she turned to him again. “How long will it take for us to travel to Ellandonan?”

  “It took two full days for me and my men to travel here. But the roads are bad this time of year. I expect it will take about a week with your carriage, wagons, and baggage.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I won’t require a carriage. I’ll ride beside you. Have you forgotten how I like to ride?”

  His brows rose in surprise, but he spoke mildly. “Of course. I do remember. Still, you will bring a baggage train and servants. They won’t travel as quickly as you and I on horseback.”

  Aileen imagined the two of them riding side by side to Ellandonan on the rugged Highland road, the wind streaming through their hair. Laughing and free. It would be perfect—a dream.

  One that would never make the transition from the land of fiction into the realm of reality. As always, she would be bogged down by the baggage of her station.

  The smile slipped from her lips and she nodded in concession. “You are right, of course.”

  She felt the warmth of his eyes on her for several moments before he went back to his breakfast.

  ***

  Aileen spent the remainder of the morning preparing for their departure. After a brief luncheon alone in her study, she called in Donegal and they discussed castle business throughout the afternoon. Other women might have thought this work mundane, but Aileen thrived on it. Even Walter had conceded she was the brains of Dornoch while he was the brawn.

  Unfortunately, her next husband might not be so accommodating.

  She trusted Donegal implicitly—he was an old man who had served her parents since before she was born. She knew that her lands would be in good hands while she was at Ellandonan. As their business wound to a close, Donegal tugged on his beard. “How long do you think you will be gone, my lady?”

  She rested her hands on her desk and considered. “The laird wants me with him while he chooses my next husband. I expect he feels I should wait out my mourning there and then remarry. Once that happens, my husband will likely determine when we will return.”

  Donegal frowned. “Several months then?”

  Melancholy tugged at Aileen. She hated having to be gone from her home for so long, yet it was inevitable. “Aye.”

  “Do you have any idea whom he will wish to align with you, my lady?”

  She shook her head somberly. “I don’t know, but I imagine Gilbert Dunbar will petition relentlessly.” The old man’s face darkened as she continued. “The advantages of aligning with Gilbert will not be overlooked by John. It will assure him a good deal of control along the border.” Impulsively, she took Donegal’s hand and grasped tightly. “Please pray it will not come to pass, Donegal.”

  He let his breath out in a hiss and squeezed her fingers in return. “I will pray for you, my lady. He wouldn’t be good for Dornoch. Or for the Mackenzies.”

  “Nay,” she whispered. A cold finger of dread slid down her spine as she remembered the horror she had witnessed the one time she’d made the mistake of visiting his home. Aileen crossed her arms over her chest, fighting a shudder. “He certainly would not.”

  ***

  Gilbert Dunbar was getting nowhere with the Mackenzie laird. As his steward, Rufus, watched from an armchair, he paced restlessly from one end of the tiny room to the other. The laird had given him the smallest bedchamber in the smallest tower of this godforsaken castle.

  “Damn him. After all I have done for him with those damnable MacDonalds. ‘I’ll consider it’, he says.” Gilbert scowled. “Patronizing bastard. To the Mackenzie, ‘consider’ means ‘when hell freezes over.’”

  Gilbert shoved a mint leaf into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. He wanted Dornoch. He wanted Aileen. He always had. And now with Walter Munro’s death, he’d been given a second chance.

  Yet John Mackenzie had made it clear he had no intention of handing Dornoch and Aileen to him. John was a cruel, conniving man who wouldn’t grant such a prize for nothing.

  Aileen was on her way here. A shiver of
anticipation shook Gilbert’s shoulders. It had been two years since he’d laid eyes on her. They’d crossed paths at the Hogmanay celebrations at Ellandonan. He had salivated at the idea that he’d see her again, trembled with pleasure when he’d laid eyes on her, but the bitch had turned her nose up at him.

  He’d make her pay. First she’d pay for her haughty snub, then she’d spend the rest of her life paying for murdering his mother and destroying his life.

  But he needed her to be his first. Nothing was more important to him than mastering Aileen Munro. Nothing. Not even Dornoch.

  He knew that it wouldn’t be long before John decided who would marry her and acquire her lands. John needed all the friends he could gather, to raise arms against the MacDonalds, and Gilbert had connections in England, connections John needed. Gilbert was certainly the best candidate…and yet the greedy laird seemed to want even more.

  “Damn him!” Gilbert roared again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rufus swipe the back of his arm over a sweat-soaked brow.

  Gilbert’s stomach turned. He took great pride in his high standard of personal hygiene, and Rufus was a slimy, greasy, sniveling excuse for a man. He spun on Rufus. “Damn you, for that matter. You’re dripping on the laird’s armchair, man. Disgusting. Why all the sweat?”

  Rufus smiled. Even in his anguished state, the curve of those thin lips broke through Gilbert’s revulsion and pleased him, for he knew it meant Rufus had an idea. His ideas were generally clever and underhanded. Rufus reminded him of a rat. Devious and shrewd, but small. Easy to destroy.

  “It is because my mind is engaged in the greatest exercise of all, my lord—thought.”

  Gilbert sneered. “Thought is useless if it does not result in action.”

  Rufus tapped his long, pale fingers on the arms of his chair. “You will be pleased with this particular thought, my lord.”

  “Will it result in my marriage to Aileen Mackenzie Munro of Dornoch?”

  “Oh most certainly, my lord.”

  Gilbert folded his arms across his chest. “Then by all means, spit it out, Rufus. I’m tired of waiting.”

  He’d been waiting for years, after all.

  ***

  Niall listened at the door for a long moment then pressed the flat of his hand against the smooth, worn wood. He hadn’t needed to ask the servants where she was—he simply knew. She was just inside this room. He didn’t know how, but he felt her there. When she was near, his senses flared. Through the thick planks of the door, he could hear the muted sounds of her breaths and smell heather and sage.

  He couldn’t comprehend what made him so strongly attracted to her, so connected to her. There had always been a powerful connection between them, but in the past he’d found ways to turn his mind from it. Now, it was impossible.

  He raised his knuckles to the wood, but before he knocked, her voice sounded from inside.

  “Come in.”

  Niall took a surprised step backward. Could she sense his presence in the same way he sensed hers?

  Control. Reining in his emotions, he took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She was sitting at a chair before a low table strewn with parchment, wearing a gown of fine dark serge that made her long, plaited hair glow with copper highlights. She raised her gaze to greet him. “I was just thinking about you.”

  Niall’s heart jumped in his chest. What had she been thinking? By the hooded look in her eyes, those thoughts hadn’t been all that innocent.

  Dare he hope she was having the same conflicted, powerful feelings he was?

  “Were you?” he said slowly.

  “Indeed.” She blinked and looked down at the table. “I was, ah, hoping that the servants were assisting you and your men in whatever ways you needed. I was wondering if I should go down and assure myself that all your needs were being met.”

  Of course she didn’t share his feelings.

  Unable to move, he simply stared at her. “Aye. They are.”

  “That’s…good.” Aileen shifted in her chair. She had changed, somehow, since last night. She had seemed almost shy at breakfast, and now color flooded her pale cheeks. What had brought about this change?

  Abruptly, she rose from her seat. “Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

  Hungry? God…so hungry.

  “No, thank you. In fact, I’ve just eaten. I’m here to thank you for your generosity to my men and me.”

  She waved her hand. “It is nothing.”

  Niall bowed his head to prevent her from seeing the longing in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Aileen?”

  She took a step toward him. “Don’t.”

  Another step forward, and her nearness almost broke his resolve not to touch her.

  She spoke softly. He loved the sound of her voice, low for a woman, but sultry and smooth. “Please don’t be so…formal. Can’t we be friends? Like we once were?”

  Unable to continue facing her without touching her, he turned away and strode to the window. Resting his palms on the sill, he looked out over the inner courtyard. For a long moment he stared at the people going about their business below. Her gaze burned into his back.

  When he had regained some semblance of control, he pushed back from the glass. “Of course we can be friends, lady.”

  “Aileen.”

  He forced a smile. “Of course. Aileen.”

  “Good. Are you and your men prepared for tomorrow?”

  “Aye. And your men seem to be ready as well. You run your domain seamlessly.”

  She gave him a genuine, warm look of pleasure. Clearly she took pride in her work here, as she should. “Thank you.”

  “And your women?”

  “They are nearly ready as well.”

  He chuckled. “And I was worried you didn’t allow yourself sufficient time.”

  She raised her hands and shrugged. “So here we are, with naught to do but be idle for the remainder of the afternoon.”

  Idle pleasures… As he watched awareness pass over her face, Niall shifted his stance to alleviate the growing discomfort of his erection. God knew he craved those idle pleasures.

  Her gaze inched downward, coming to rest on the pleats of his plaid beneath his belt. Her tongue swept across her upper lip like she was anticipating some delectable meal. Then, as if she realized what she was doing, she looked away, a crimson flush spreading over her cheeks.

  Her actions ripped through his resolve, tearing it to shreds.

  She did want him! Niall had been so intent on fighting his own illicit thoughts about her, he hadn’t seen that she’d been struggling as well. She wanted him very badly indeed. But she was fighting it just as fervently as he was.

  He took a step closer to her. As if pulled by a string, his hand rose to touch her arm. She stared down at his fingers on her sleeve, wide-eyed.

  He could hardly get a word past the chokehold of emotion. “What’s happening?”

  With a little whimper, she launched herself into his arms, tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his.

  Before he could think, Niall gathered her into his embrace and kissed her back. He dragged one hand down the side of her hip to her upper thigh. Her body was small but curved enticingly beneath her dress. He coaxed her plump, supple lips open with his mouth, and when they parted, he teased his tongue inside.

  Her body jerked in reaction. She gasped and made a little noise that sounded like, “Oh!”

  Niall withdrew his tongue in surprise. Surely she had been kissed before? Brushing his lips against hers, he brought her closer, stepping forward until he’d pushed her back against the tapestry near the hearth.

  She kept her mouth closed, and he didn’t press her again. Instead he ran his lips down the soft, silky flesh of her jaw and stroked his hand down her slender neck, over her collarbones and over the tight bead of her nipple through the fabric of her gown. She buried her face in his neck, gasping.

  His cock was so hard it hurt. Their clothing was in the wa
y. Blood pounded in his ears, and he couldn’t think beyond his all-encompassing need.

  He would have her. He would make her his.

  Niall hiked up her skirts, sliding the rough pad of his thumb over the supple flesh of her thigh. She moaned into his neck.

  He moved his fingers higher on her thigh, stroking the damp skin between her legs. Gasping, she squirmed, but he ground his cock into her hip and pinned her against the wall.

  He slid his fingers into the slick, hot flesh. She went rigid.

  Niall froze. She shook in his arms, trembled all over. She was terrified.

  What the hell was he doing? Raping Lady Aileen? She’d merely kissed him—a chaste, closed-mouth kiss like the gentle lady she was—and he’d pushed her against the wall and nearly thrust his cock inside her like a rutting animal.

  Good God, he’d lost his mind. With a hiss of breath, he jerked his hand away and jumped back, leaving her slouched against the wall with a stunned expression on her face.

  What had he done? He had pushed aside everything he stood for and given in to carnal lust.

  She would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. He covered his face with his hands, but his fingers were slick and smelled of her sex. The devil in him ordered him to lick his fingers. Instead he fisted his hands and dropped them rigidly to his sides.

  “Lady Aileen,” he rasped. She looked up at him with wide, shining eyes. Her shocked look flooded him with guilt. “Please forgive me.”

  He strode to the door and heaved it open. He couldn’t get out of here quickly enough.

  He stepped over the threshold. But then her voice came from behind him, trembling in time with her body, but low and sultry and edged with heat. “Niall. Wait.”

  Chapter Four

  Aileen pressed her back against the wall and watched Niall turn to her, his fingers gripping the edge of the door so hard his knuckles had turned white.