She untied her belt and allowed her dress to slip from her shoulders. Naked, she bent on one knee, feeling nerves flutter down her spine just as they had that day she’d knelt to remove his boots for his bath. But this time, she wasn’t confused about what she wanted from him. She knew.
She bowed her head. “I cannot marry you. But will you take me as your mistress?”
He sank to his knees and took her hands in his own. “Nothing could stop us from being together now. Not the laird, not—”
“I am married,” she interrupted him, her voice flat. “Gilbert Dunbar—”
The crush of his lips against hers stopped her short. He kissed her brutally then pulled away just as abruptly, his lips glistening. “Gilbert Dunbar is dead, Aileen.”
She blinked at him. “How do you—?”
“When your brother told me he’d taken you to Ellandonan, I left that day in pursuit. I went to Castle Aird.”
Aileen’s hands dropped to her sides like lead weights. She bowed her head. “You killed him?”
“Aye.”
Silence stretched, thin and taut. Gilbert had deserved to die, for what he’d planned to do to her babe, if nothing else. And she knew, from Iain and from the child she’d seen sentenced to death for stealing bread, that she wasn’t the only one he’d brutalized.
He’d deserved to die.
Still, a tear crested over her bottom eyelid and fell. She didn’t know why she was crying, couldn’t break down the complex reasons behind her tears. All she knew was that she wanted Niall. And now she was free to have him.
She looked up, biting her lip shyly, the tear still carving a trail down her cheek. “Will you marry me, Niall?”
She could scarcely breathe. The enormity of what she asked did not escape her. She asked him to betray his laird, to sacrifice everything he had spent his life working to achieve.
“Aye, Aileen, I will marry you.”
She blinked in surprise. “It won’t be easy,” she whispered. “My brother—”
“Nay,” he interrupted. “The laird has already given his blessing.”
She gasped as yet another surprise barreled into her like a punch to the stomach. “He…has? How could that be?”
Niall smiled wryly. “That is a long story. For another time. Let’s just say that I think the Mackenzie loves his family more than even he realizes. But for now…” His voice trailed off, and his gaze swiped meaningfully over her body. His long fingers reached out to touch hers.
A warm breeze came in from the window, lifting her hair and caressing her skin. Aileen looked down at herself. The wounds Gilbert and his men had inflicted upon her were nearly healed, and her nipples tightened into sensitive pebbles, their color a dark wine red, stark against the paleness of her skin.
“I want to taste you,” Niall murmured. “Every inch of your sweet skin, from top to bottom.”
A deep shudder resonated through her body in response.
She let her fingertips play against his. It was the only place they touched, and it was electric—she was surprised she could not see the joyful dance of the spark between them.
“I want to see your cock again,” she said. “I want to feel it growing beneath my lips, under my fingertips.”
“You will.” His voice was low and edged with roughness. The barest hint of danger that sent a thrill shooting through her. “You will see it again and again.”
“And taste it,” she murmured. “Taste your seed.”
The bond sparked and hummed between them.
“And take it deep within you.”
Thick and heavy, need mingled with their connection. Aileen’s emotions floated, but her body was grounded, aching to feel her warrior’s body, his hands, his cock.
In one flowing motion, he gathered her into his arms and gently laid her on the bed. Rolling to her side, she watched him remove his boots. Then he rose and pulled off his shirt and plaid, revealing a white bandage wrapped around his torso.
Aileen gasped “You’re injured.”
He shrugged. “It is naught to worry over. A scratch on the belly and a stab to the side that didn’t even pierce the muscle.”
Hatred and bitterness flooded through her. She knew who was responsible for this. “Gilbert.”
“Aye. But the wounds are healing.” He must have seen the anger on her face, for he bent down to give her a gentle kiss. “Forget him. It is over.”
“But what if he had killed you?”
“He didn’t.”
But if he had… A hundred images flooded through her mind, not of the pain she would have endured had Niall been killed, but of all the ways she would have made Gilbert suffer for it.
But the images faded as Niall straightened to reveal his magnificent body. He stepped toward the bed until his cock was within licking distance, and she remembered all those wicked things she had just promised to do to it. Leaning forward, she swiped her tongue from base to head, then smiled up at him.
“Are you ready?”
“Aye, mo chridhe.”
She nuzzled the smooth head of his cock, then opened her mouth to taste his silken, hard shaft.
“Aileen.” He gazed down on her with ocean-deep eyes. He brushed his lips over hers in a soft kiss. “My beautiful, fair Aileen. Mo chridhe. My wife. My love.”
And after she had sucked, licked, stroked and learned every bit of the rigid, pulsing surface of his cock, he pulled away to fulfill his own promise.
He tasted her, from soft tickles of her toes and thighs, to her slit, already slick and glistening with her juices. There, he explored her, inside and out, sucking with his mouth, thrusting and stroking with his fingers, making her shake, squirm and then finally moan with the most gratifying release she’d ever known.
“You are so sweet,” he murmured. “I could come from just tasting you.”
Then he continued upward, exploring her skin with reverence.
He teased her sensitive nipples until she was gasping and squirming again, and when his cock nuzzled the folds of her entrance, she was ready.
He stared down at her, his blue eyes open and clear. “I’ll never leave you again,” he promised her. “This is my oath to you. I swear, there will be nothing more to my world beyond you and our babe. I will care for you for as long as I live, and I’ll protect you both with my life. I love you, mo chridhe.”
“I love you too, Niall.”
And she believed him, because to Niall, honor was everything.
Slowly, his cock tunneled into her welcoming body. Aileen gasped from the overwhelming pleasure of it.
He slid into her with gliding thrusts, and she came again in long, sweet waves, quivering with bliss. After a few moments, Niall followed, shouting his joy until the rafters shook with it.
Finally, Aileen had achieved what she’d always longed for but never dared to hope for. Untarnished happiness. Oneness with the man she loved so intently, it was as if the world didn’t exist beyond what they shared together.
Also by Dawn Halliday
Highland Obsession
Highland Surrender
Winter Heat in A Highlander Christmas
Honeymoon Castaways
Twice the Night
10 Days in Paradise
Jewels of the Nile IV
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dawn Halliday writes historical and contemporary erotic romance in Southern California, where she lives with her husband, three children, and an assortment of other creatures. You can learn more about Dawn at www.DawnHalliday.com.
In the Scottish Highlands, two warriors are about to clash over a woman of passion…
Highland Obsession
Copyright 2012 Dawn Halliday
“Watch out for your fingers…HIGHLAND OBSESSION is on fire—a scorching page turner from cover to cover! Sexy Highlanders and wickedly erotic romance, Dawn Halliday is the HOTTEST new voice in Scottish romance.”
-New York Times Bestselling Author Monica McCarty
They were
the unlikeliest of friends debauching their way through London: The Earl of Camdonn, a nobleman of vast wealth and power, and Scottish laird Alan MacDonald, a respected Jacobite with ambitions of his own.
But their friendship is destroyed when Alan marries the beautiful Sorcha Stewart—only to witness Cam kidnap her from their bedroom. Then Alan learns the truth: his bride was not an innocent. She took a lover before him—his friend—who taught her the ways of pleasure.
Now, Alan will do anything to get his wife back. Cam fights to redeem his honor, even as he refuses to give up his desire. Torn between love and duty, Sorcha must watch as the two men she desires go to war over her. And when the battle lines are drawn, all three lovers are lured into a triangle of forbidden passions…
Excerpt from Highland Obsession:
Cam dismounted and tethered his horse to the spindly trunk of a juniper. Though a full moon had brightened the night sky earlier, clouds had gathered and now a soft mist fell. The horses’ heavy breathing steamed the air and their intermittent snorts contrasted with the whisper of water on the bushes and grass.
Ignoring the needles scraping his arms, Cam glanced back at MacLean, who remained mounted, waiting for Cam’s instruction. The man and his horse formed an inky shadow in the increasing gloom.
The ground sank under Cam’s feet and leaves rustled as he moved to take measure of the small valley below. He scanned the stables and few dark outbuildings hardly visible through the rain, but his gaze came to an abrupt stop when it collided with the largest dwelling in the enclave—Alan MacDonald’s two-room cottage near the banks of the loch.
Sorcha and Alan were inside. Alone at last on the first night of their marriage.
Hours ago, from behind an old cairn, Cam had watched the villagers dance around a bonfire as the lively tune of their fiddles and pipes echoed through Glenfinnan. Cold to the marrow of his bones, he’d stared past the stones down at them, at her. Sorcha smiling shyly as Alan led her in a reel, her skirts swishing around her calves. She looked as a young bride should: beautiful, happy. Innocent.
But she wasn’t innocent.
Her father had tried—and failed—to keep a tight rein on her. Now it was Alan MacDonald’s job. Cam knew Alan would do it better.
Smoke puffed in small clouds from the chimney and light spilled out from the cottage windows onto the water, making it glitter as it splashed gently against the pebbled shore.
Again Cam glanced at MacLean, who sat patiently upon his horse, reins held loosely in his meaty hands. “Wait here. Come only if I call for you.”
MacLean nodded. Cam didn’t allow his gaze to linger on the big man—he didn’t want to see any sign of disapproval, though logic told him MacLean followed him blindly with no interest in separating right from wrong. If Cam saw disapproval in MacLean’s expression, he’d be conjuring it from a blank slate.
Swiping the back of his hand over his stinging eyes, Cam stared at the cottage. He had no choice but to go down there. He had to see it through to the end. Maybe then his obsession with her would end.
“Stay out of sight,” he murmured to MacLean.
“Aye, milord.” MacLean’s rough voice came from behind him, but Cam hardly heard. He was already striding down the wet slope toward the cottage.
Sorcha. Her name rose in his mind, peaked and receded like a delicate wave. How had it happened this way? And why, for God’s sake, did it even matter? He’d thought Sorcha was a toy, an entertaining plaything. A dalliance. Nothing more. How wrong he was.
Over a month ago, her father had left Cam’s service and moved his family to Glenfinnan. The day before she’d gone, she met him in his bedchamber. After they made love, she’d clung to him, and her eyes had glistened with tears as they’d murmured their farewells.
Cam assumed he’d forget about her. He predicted he’d easily find another skirt to amuse him. Instead, he’d thought about her daily. He ached to see her, to hold her again. To touch her silken skin. To see her generous smile, then kiss her into submission.
When he learned of her upcoming marriage to Alan MacDonald, something had snapped in his consciousness. Thoughts of her began to occupy his every waking moment. He’d tried to stop. He’d schooled himself to restraint and resolutely kept out of her affairs.
Today was her wedding day. And, God help him, today he hadn’t been able to stay away.
He reached the edge of Alan’s cottage and placed his palm flat on one of the cold, wet stones. Slowly, he walked around the back to the closest window, dragging his fingers across the jagged surfaces of the stones as he went. Now completely hidden from MacLean’s sight, Cam peered inside.
There was Sorcha, closer to the window than he’d expected, facing away from him. She stood still, her dark hair a satin waterfall cascading down her back. Beyond her, the large, cluttered space contained a rough-hewn dressing table, several chairs and chests, a long bench, and a bed built into the wall. A peat fire flickered in the fireplace at the room’s far end. Rustic, but comfortable. Nevertheless, far below Alan’s means.
Cam sensed movement deeper within and ducked away, his pulse surging to a frantic cadence.
Breathing heavily, he leaned back against the wall. Out of all the men in the world, why did it have to be his closest friend who’d taken her to wife?
Cam turned his face up to the rain and savored the feel of the stones digging deep into the flesh of his shoulders. What in the devil was he doing, slinking about like a common low-bred thief? Longing for something he could never have? He hated himself for it.
Yet he couldn’t stop.
He turned and looked in the window once again. Alan sat on the edge of the bed now. He’d removed his plaid, and his white linen shirt covered him to midthigh. He spoke softly, much in the same way Cam had seen him calm a jittery horse.
Sorcha took a step away from the window. Cam couldn’t see her expression, only the dark fall of her hair shimmering in the light of the tallow candles as she moved. She wore a thin linen nightdress that shifted provocatively with the sway of her hips.
Alan was ignorant of Cam and Sorcha’s previous carnal acquaintance. If he knew, he never would have married her. Cam was familiar enough with his friend’s personality to know this as absolute fact. It was clear Sorcha hadn’t revealed anything of her experience during the short period of their engagement.
Ultimately, Cam couldn’t blame her for hiding the truth. Her father had placed her in this position, and she would die before dishonoring him. Furthermore, her blasted Highland morals wouldn’t allow her to embarrass or anger Alan, her laird and future husband.
And now they were married. Joined together . . . as one . . . until death. Cam winced.
Bloody hell.
Would she continue to play the part of the timid virgin tonight? Would she cry out as she had when Cam took her maidenhead? After she had made that small, frightened noise, he had frozen in place, hating to have caused her pain. But she’d clutched him tight and whispered to him, saying it was all right and encouraging him to continue. Soon she had arched up to meet him, making a little sound of pleasure with each thrust.
Cam would never forget that night. When he had broken through the shield of her virginity, her reaction had been honest. With Alan, it would be a deception. Cam tried to take some comfort in that, and failed.
Sorcha sat on the edge of the bed beside Alan, turning so Cam could see her profile. Her eyes were downcast. A lock of hair fell across her face, and she reached up to brush it away with trembling fingers.
So she did choose to play the pious fraud. Cam grimaced, clutched the windowsill, and watched.
Available Now At Kindle!
Secrets of an Accidental Duchess
Copyright 2012 Jennifer Haymore
With her pale hair and slim figure, Olivia Donovan looks as fragile as fine china, and has been treated as such by her sisters ever since a childhood bout with malaria. But beneath her delicate facade, Olivia guards a bold, independent spirit and the kind of
passionate desires proper young ladies must never confess…
It was a reckless wager, and one Max couldn’t resist: seduce the alluring Olivia or forfeit part of his fortune. Yet the wild, soon-to-be Duke never imagined he’d fall in love with this innocent beauty. Nor could he have guessed that a dangerously unpredictable rival would set out to destroy them both. Now, Max must beat a Madman at his own twisted game-or forever lose the only woman to have ever won his heart.
Excerpt from Secrets of an Accidental Duchess:
Max flinched, a subtle withdrawal. “It’s very complicated.” His lips twisted. “I suppose it comes down to the fact that I’ve always known I’d make a very poor husband. I wouldn’t want to cause any woman unhappiness, so I’ve known for a long time that marriage wasn’t for me.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him, confused on many levels. “Then what—why are you— Why did it seem like you wanted to—?”
She stopped speaking abruptly as the truth slammed into her. She didn’t think she could get any hotter from embarrassment, but now she was certain she must be scarlet. She tore her gaze away from him again.
Suddenly, the pressure of his palm on hers took on a completely different meaning, and she yanked her hand out from under his like it had scorched her. She turned wide eyes on him. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to her, the concern deepening on his face. “What’s wrong—?”
She raised her hand to stop his words, then closed her eyes and bent her head forward with a groan, slapping her palm over her forehead. “I am so stupid.”
“Olivia—”
“I should have known that’s what you wanted from me.” She braced herself, removed her palm from her forehead, and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Max. I won’t…I thought you understood—I’m simply not the kind of woman who’s free with her…favors.”
Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance) Page 16