Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance)

by Dawn Halliday

  Silence. Except for the harshness of his breath and her own gasping pants. She watched the emotions rage across his face but couldn’t decipher them. Was he disgusted with her or with himself? She had behaved like a whore, throwing herself into his arms like that. But then, the things that he had done to her with his tongue and fingers…

  Aileen shuddered. She had never known her body could experience such sensations.

  But he wanted to leave her. Why was she forcing him to stay?

  There was no point in being coy with him. Despite the sinful nature of her desires, she must be honest. To be anything else would insult him, and she had already insulted him enough.

  “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

  “Nay, lady.” He shut the door and leaned against it. Now they spoke from opposite sides of the room, as if the space would somehow buffer the desire still swirling between them.

  “Aye. I shouldn’t have behaved…in that manner. It was…disrespectful.”

  His face darkened. “Nay…”

  Aileen bowed her head and opened her palms flat against the tapestry, running her fingertips over the coarse material.

  Honesty. He would probably turn his back on her forever, but she had to explain.

  “It is my fault. I wanted you to touch me, Niall. When you touch me, I feel…I feel whole. I have never felt anything so…” A hot tear trailed down her face, and she brought her hand to her cheek, surprised. It had been a long time since she had last shed tears. “It is evil, I know. It is wrong and wanton and sinful and I am…so…wretched.” In truth, she was disgusted with herself, at her own weakness and vulnerability. But she couldn’t help it—this man had stripped her to the core, leaving her bare and defenseless. Unable to look at him, she turned her gaze to the window instead. “Forgive me.”

  In an instant, he was standing before her. “Aileen…”

  She melted against him, into the furnace of his arms.

  So strong. So powerful. He lifted her and carried her to the chair set before the fire where he settled with her on his lap, holding her close, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

  Understanding flowed between them, not with words but with actions as Aileen they explored each other in an unspoken, intimate conversation.

  Niall’s lips, salty with her tears, touched hers gently. There was no need to speak. The expression on his face spoke more eloquently than words. There can be nothing between us, it said.

  Aileen stroked her palms down the hard planes of his chest, learning the contour of each masculine muscle. If we are exposed, the laird will take Dornoch away from me forever, she communicated silently.

  His fingers threaded through her braid, loosening it then sifting through the thick fall of her hair. You are in mourning. Destined for another.

  She pressed her lips against the tender skin at the hollow of his throat, breathing deeply. If we are caught, my brother will kill you.

  The hard ridge of Niall’s erection pressed against Aileen’s hip. I have made a sacred vow of loyalty to the laird, one that honor will never allow me to forsake.

  Finally, Aileen spoke in a whisper. “These feelings I have for you…I don’t understand them. They’re so…powerful. So new…”

  That shook him—she felt it in the sudden tension of the muscles cradling her.

  In a low voice, he said, “I feel the same way.”

  She snuggled closer into his body. “Whenever you’re near, I feel this…an undeniable…craving.”

  Niall spoke slowly. “It is natural for some men and women to have strong feelings for one another. The feelings I have for you have always been strong. More powerful than most, I think. But”—he tilted her chin up so she met his clear blue gaze with her own—“my feelings for you are pure and natural. I swear it.”

  She stared at him through glassy eyes. They wanted each other, with equal passion, equal need.

  It couldn’t be.

  They were doomed.

  ***

  Much later, Aileen went downstairs to serve in her role as the lady of the castle. Niall walked behind her, playing his role as a Mackenzie protector.

  Aileen knew that Niall was as convinced as she was that nothing could come of this. It somehow soothed her that their forced separation challenged him as much as it did her, but they were equally strong. They could overcome this lethal attraction.

  Through dinner, she laughed and joked with his men. After the meal, she, Niall and Donegal gathered with some of her men-at-arms. Late into the night they reminisced about old times at Dornoch. Niall and Aileen talked, laughed and drank wine. There were no lingering glances, fluttering touches, accidental brushes against one another. They played their assigned roles to perfection.

  But once she was alone in her bedchamber, the brick fortress of Aileen’s resolve began to crumble.

  She pressed her fingers against her eyes. Another night in her cold bed. She didn’t know how she’d borne it for so long. It had seemed easy before Walter’s death. In fact, she considered it a blessing that he’d hardly come to her bed at all in the last few years.

  Now her bed was a lonely, sterile place. She was almost glad to be leaving it tomorrow. At least the novelty of a new place to sleep might distract her from this devastating solitude.

  Niall’s chamber was close—at the end of the wing. Just a short walk down the passageway.

  The servants were all abed. Nobody would see her if she went to him.

  She knew she shouldn’t—the risk was too great.

  But she wanted to. Desperately.

  Groaning softly, Aileen curled her body into a ball and grasped her knees with her frigid hands.

  If she wanted to experience the closeness they’d shared so briefly this afternoon, tonight was her only chance. Certainly they wouldn’t be able to associate with each other once they arrived at Ellandonan Castle. That would be suicidal.

  But if she went to him tonight, nobody would ever need know.

  He was warm. She remembered the heat of his chest as he’d held her. He was so sculpted, so hard. So protective of her. She’d never felt as safe as she had this afternoon in his arms.

  Tonight was her last chance to experience the one thing she would likely never again have the chance to feel. Sexual pleasure. Fulfillment from a man’s touch. A cock thrusting inside her because she wanted it there, not because she must endure it as her wifely duty.

  Niall could give all of that to her. Everywhere he touched, fire ignited beneath her skin. And when he had touched her between her legs, she had nearly exploded.

  Aileen tossed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She hesitated over the candle beside her bed, but she didn’t light it. Dornoch was her home. She could find her way in the dark.

  Thankful the servants kept the hinges well oiled, she closed the door silently behind her. Slowly, using the wall as a guide and counting the doors, she moved down the passageway. Every breath she made echoed against the stone walls.

  Finally, she reached Niall’s door. Aileen hesitated, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

  She wanted this. Like nothing in her life, she wanted this one night with him. Just one night. Slowly, she pushed the door open. It swung silently on its hinges.

  The fire had burnt down to glowing embers. He lay on the bed, a shadowy figure buried under the blankets. Closing the door and bolting it behind her, Aileen padded across the room. The floorboards chilled the soles of her feet, yet when she reached the side of the bed, she stood for a long moment, staring at him.

  In sleep, he was like an angel, pale and perfect in the dimness, the half-moon curve of his thick, dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

  As quietly as she could, she climbed up on the bed and crawled under the covers. When he didn’t wake, she pressed her body against his side.

  He wore a tunic, but just as she’d imagined, he was warm beneath it.

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he shifted in his sleep and slipped his arm around h
er waist.

  Maybe he wouldn’t wake. Maybe she could just rest here for a few hours, watch him sleep and revel in his warmth and his touch. That would be enough—much more than she might have wished for a few days ago. Closing her eyes, she snuggled closer.

  Suddenly, his body tensed, and he jerked away from her.

  Aileen’s eyes snapped open. He blinked at her, a curious, confused expression clouding his features.

  “Aileen?”

  Regret constricted her chest. She was putting him at risk, forcing him to betray his oath of fealty to his laird…oh God.

  “I’m sorry,” she groaned. This was wrong, all wrong. She began to crawl out of the bed. “I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have come. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Still shocked by her presence, Niall wrapped his arm around her waist. “Stay.”

  He tugged her close. Aileen was cold, trembling, and all he wanted to do was warm her. Every moment with her was a gift. Despite all the ways they’d strayed in their touches and unspoken declarations, he couldn’t regret what they had done.

  “Stop apologizing.” He pulled her tighter against his chest. “I wanted you to come.” He nearly laughed at the understatement. In the hours after sunset, he had paced this room, thinking about her, fighting the urge to slip into her room.

  He’d dreamt about her. He was dreaming of holding her when he’d awakened, his cock rock hard, to find her in his arms.

  She stroked his arm, seemingly entranced by the slope of his biceps.

  Niall tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I want you to stay.”

  Mourning what never could be was a waste. This might be folly, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t fight it now. Not with her nearly naked, pressing her small body against him.

  He reached behind her neck and drew her closer.

  If it was his only chance, he would make the most of this night. After a long childless marriage with Munro, it was widely known that Aileen was barren. He would bring long-denied pleasure to her, and, with her, he would do the one thing he’d abstained from since the first time he’d lain with a woman. He would come inside her.

  “I want to make love to you,” he murmured against her lips. Her soft breaths whispered over his skin in a caress that made his nerves come alive. “I want to learn every dip, curve and hollow of your body.”

  Reaching down, he snagged the bottom of her shift, slowly pulling it up over her calf, then her thigh, letting his callused fingertips run over her smooth skin. She lay very still, staring at him with trusting eyes that glowed a gentle violet in the dim light.

  “It is our only chance,” she said.

  Niall ground his teeth. “I know.”

  She rose to pull her shift over her head. He did the same with his tunic. After tossing their clothes aside, they sat on the bed, naked, facing each other in the dim light.

  He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she seemed to struggle to regulate her breath. Her tongue swiped across her lower lip, and then she murmured, “I’m afraid, Niall.”

  “Why?”

  Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. I trust you. But…” She looked down at her hands. “I didn’t really understand anything until today, when you kissed me and…and touched me.”

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.

  Unwavering, her gaze met his. “No.”

  “Did I do something you didn’t want me to do?”

  “No.”

  “Did it feel wrong?”

  “No…it felt right.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I think you have cast a spell over me.”

  He shook his head somberly. “I am no sorcerer.”

  But could she be responsible for this? Had she cast a spell over him? It was a long-standing rumor that her grandmother dabbled in witchcraft. Had she continued the family tradition?

  He nearly laughed. What nonsense. He was as superstitious as the next Highlander, but he couldn’t believe she was responsible for what was happening. Not Aileen. He knew her—had known her since he was a boy, and she was nothing if not pious and duty-bound.

  If anything, she was more distraught over their forbidden attraction than he was.

  “What is it then, if it’s not a spell?” she whispered.

  “It feels right when we are together because it is right.” He hesitated, then added in a low voice, “Perhaps we were meant to be together.”

  Aileen sucked in a breath. “Impossible.”

  Niall brushed his fingertips over her soft lips.

  “We cannot be together,” she said. A hard edge, the same edge he’d sensed in her expression earlier today when he’d watched her directing the servants, had overtaken her voice. “Why would fate provoke us? It isn’t fair.”

  She was right. The unfairness of it elicited a raging frustration within him. But he wouldn’t think of that now.

  Never taking her eyes from his face, she turned so that she lay on her back. He leaned over her, devouring her naked body with his gaze. God, she was beautiful. Her skin glowed pearly in the meager light provided by the fire embers and the starlight sifting through the narrow windowpanes. She was a goddess, perfect and flawless. She was a lady. So far above him—a lowly man born to peasants, who had bonded himself to the Mackenzies as a child and raised himself to his current position by endless sacrifices of blood and sweat—it was laughable.

  She was the laird’s sister. She was a Mackenzie.

  Niall was a MacRae, who’d sworn a blood oath of fealty to the laird. He’d vowed to protect the laird—and all the Mackenzies—to the death.

  Her lips, her soft, pink, plump lips, parted as she stared up at him.

  “So bonny.” Gently, he smoothed her riotous hair back from her face. He ran a finger across her mouth, perfect for kissing…or for wrapping around his shaft.

  Later.

  To know her completely, to understand her body, how it felt, tasted, moved beneath him—those were the things that mattered most. He wanted to brand them into his memory.

  He traced the dark slashes of her eyebrows with his fingertips. Bending down, he feathered kisses across her forehead. No part of her would remain untouched, no area unexplored.

  “Niall.” A breath, a plea against his ear.

  “Lie still, Aileen.”

  She obeyed his gentle command as he swiped his fingers down her hairline. When he licked the shell of her ear, she squirmed, but he held her firm.

  Her neck was long and pale, like a swan’s. Arching her head back, she bared it for him.

  For a long moment, Niall stared at the display of skin so pale that even in the darkness, he could see the blue pulse threading through her jugular vein. In a clear message of trust, Aileen offered herself.

  He ran his hands over the delicate skin, then followed with his lips, alternating between sucks and soft bites down the smooth column and across her shoulders.

  “Aye.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Make me remember you, Niall. Never let me forget.”

  Chapter Five

  Her thought was uncannily similar to his own. He wanted to brand this moment—this night—into his memory. Later, when he’s alone in battle, surrounded by violence and death, he’ll have the memory of her smooth skin, her sweet scent, her tender softness.

  He paused, breathing heavily against her neck. The compulsion to gather her into his arms and carry her away from this place nearly overwhelmed him. They’d ride somewhere safe, far from the Highlands, from Scotland, even from England, and the vows that must keep them apart.

  It was an impossible fantasy. Niall had sworn an oath of fealty to the laird, and honor demanded he keep that oath. No matter what his feelings were for the man’s beautiful half sister.

  He traced her collarbones with his fingers, then his lips, tasting tall Highland grasses.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, swallowing down a groan. He was hungry for her. No, he was ravenous. He wanted to devour ev
ery inch of her. But he must take his time. He must savor every sweet taste and brand each one into his memory.

  Moving lower, he licked the soft, curved mound of her breast.

  She gave a ragged sigh.

  Straightening, he gazed at her face. Shadows darkened her skin as she raised her arms to stretch them overhead.

  A look of wonder was etched on her face. “The way you touch me with your hands and mouth…it is so…so decadent.” Her eyes glittered as they met his. She reached up and pressed her palm against his chest.

  He slid his hands from her collarbones to her breasts, cupping them in his hands and weighing gently. Small and pert, they molded to his rounded palms. Smoothing his fingertips over her nipples, he watched with profound appreciation as they grew into hard pink nubs. He bent to capture one of them between his lips.

  Gasping in pleasure, she slipped her thigh between his legs, rubbing against his cock until it grew full to bursting and throbbed with impatience. Ignoring his body’s demand to claim her fast and hard, Niall moved to the other breast and worked it with his mouth, kneading the flesh of both globes with his hands until the nipples puckered taut.

  He trailed kisses down the underswell, stroking his hand over her belly. His hand looked massive against her tiny waist. “You are so small,” he said in surprise.

  Then he realized it was her presence that filled a room, that made her seem regal and tall, not her physical size.

  She didn’t speak, just arched her body into his hands, against his mouth.

  He swiped his tongue around the circle of her bellybutton, then lower, skirting the top of the triangle of hair that hid her womanhood.

  She gasped in shock. Her body squirmed away in an instinctual response to the surprise.

  “What are…?” She let the question hang, and something akin to relief flooded through Niall. Certain pleasures were still new to her. When her body had gone rigid in her study, it was because she had never experienced a man’s fingers stroking between her legs, not because she didn’t want them there.

  Niall looked up to scrutinize her face. Her violet eyes were wide with shock, wonder…and curiosity.