Taken By The Forbidden Highlander (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Kaley McCormick

  I was riding him hard and fast, which of course made him fall backward against the locker with his hands up underneath my ass to keep me in place. The slickness of my hole was now caressing the entire length of him, pulling him into my embrace and making him mine. He wasn’t going to pull away without finishing what he started.

  “You are unlike any other woman that I’ve met in my life. My fiancé was the woman of my dreams, but now I’m thinking that there might be somebody else. Your body and your lust for life is something that I have been lacking in my life. I’m through bending to conventional thinking. I’m only marrying her because of perception. Yes…take it all…take my black cock you nasty little whore.”

  I loved the way that he talked to me and maybe I didn’t have to teach his fiancé anything. I wanted him for myself and he had just admitted that I was the one that had made him look at things differently.

  “Give me your seed… Give me your seed…fucking cream into my hole. Take me you nasty bastard.” We were made for each other and then I felt myself squeezing down on him and then throwing my head back in obvious enjoyment. I came with an intensity that burned through me. I took him into his own pleasure.

  “You fucking take that cream bitch…you’ve got it…you fucking got it…YESS.”

  He was the little engine that could and then suddenly I was feeling the hot essence shooting up into me. I glanced down to see that my own sticky sauce had now stuck to him and made us more than casual acquaintances. He finally came to the end of his rope, pulling free and then sitting back down with his hands holding onto my legs and placing his face against my stomach.

  “I don’t think that I’ve ever been more satisfied with a man or woman for that matter,” I told him. “You really outdid yourself and I doubt that anybody will be able to measure up after that. Perhaps we should think about making this a long-term arrangement that will benefit us both greatly.” He looked up and smiled and I had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be his dirty little secret.

  I married that man, after he broke off the engagement with his fiancé, and then I found out that I was going to bring his legacy into this world. There was nothing that was predictable about our relationship. Whether it was a new sex toy, some new position, or even something that would make tongues wag, there was nothing that we wouldn’t do for a cheap thrill. I loved that he had an open mind and was willing to look beyond what most people considered normal. We found new ways of turning each other on, including bringing his old fiancé into our bed…but that’s for another story.

  THE END

  The Highlander’s Captive Bride

  Torra and her mother were toiling all day, carrying home food and supplies, and working just as hard as any man as they prepared for the coming ice storm. Torra was a young woman of twenty-two, of light hair and a fair complexion. She worked hard on a daily basis, managing the family home while her father was away for the hunt, not to mention helping her mother.

  One particular day, in the week preceding the biggest storm of the year, a peculiar incident happened just as they were returning home from a trading post. The trading post always exposed Torra to strange and unusual people, from aboriginals to Spaniards and Asians. It always went down without a worry, or at least it had.

  This time around the visit seemed somber, probably because a warning was sent out stating that raiders were coming into smaller villages and burning them to the ground. Women weren’t safe. Neither were children. But the men, the burly men always took such delight in warning the women as explicitly as possible, as if reminding the unmarried girl that the only sure way to get protection from raiders and pirates was to marry a strong man.

  But Torra wasn’t intimidated by their implications. Her father was the strongest man in the region, having killed more men than a general, all because they dared to threaten his family. The latest wildman report was of a certain Lord Emery, a deranged lunatic who pillaged villages and destroyed everyone, from man to woman to child. Knowledge of his presence in this region was becoming widespread. Of course Torra was concerned but she wasn’t about to give into fear and marry a man just as brutal.

  Along the way home from the trading post, Torra and her mother spilled some of their sacks of produce. It was an ugly scene all right and thankfully no ruffians or animals would be on hand to take advantage of the embarrassment.

  “Oh bother,” cried Muira, Torra’s mother, who quickly landed on her knees and attempted to batch up a whole sack load of fallen potatoes. “Now look what you did, girl.”

  “Me? I was holding my own, Mother. You were the one slacking off.”

  “Well either way, hurry up. Your father gets worried when we don’t get home by dusk.”

  “Surely he does. After all, what person would want to be out in the cold wilderness when Emery’s boys make an appearance?”

  “Oh, don’t even be throwing his name around,” Mother warned. “I don’t appreciate those boys throwing names around to scare good children into marrying too young. There will always be cruel and dangerous men. But living in constant fear of them doesn’t do us any good.”

  Torra nodded, helping her mother pick up some of the small supplies. A disaster indeed: as they were sitting on the earth to fetch the fallen supplies from one sack, their two other bags had fallen over too.

  “Hey, at least I’m not the one too afraid to even mention the infamous name. Stupid men like that don’t scare me.”

  “Aye, but they would if you didn’t have a strong father ready to fight for ye.” Muira tightened her brow and pointed. “Be careful! You’re spilling more vegetables.”

  “I’ve got it, I’ve got it…”

  “No you don’t…and look, it’s already getting dark outside.”

  Just as the frightening thought of a strange and evil man had left them, in the same moment they noticed a stranger standing to their farthest right.

  “Holy mother of…” Muira said, standing up and looking like a deer ready to gallop away at the site of danger. “Torra, be calm. Stay behind me.”

  “Oh dear…” Torra said, noticing the same one. Her heart thumped as she saw the darkness of the fellow. He was dressed in black leather, wearing a helmet and carrying a sword. If he was the first of many pirates or marauders, she and mum were surely done for.

  “No need to be afraid,” the man said, stepping out from shadowed trees to the open wilderness. “My name is Seumas.”

  “What have we to do with you?” Muira said in a panic, shoving Torra behind her. Torra looked on in terror, though she couldn’t help but notice the man was a handsome fellow. He had golden blond wavy hair and a slightly tan complexion to his skin. His body was tall and firm, no doubt with strong arms and muscles hidden under layers of warming leather. He looked to be about thirty and had a healthy, well fed appearance. His voice was also deep, just as deep as her own father – probably a warrior of similar experience.

  “Nothing. But I didn’t realize it was such a sin to be friendly.”

  “We don’t need any protection,” Muira said, holding her eyes wide and jutting her face out in pride. “My husband is Kincaid, the Great Defender. He has a reputation you know.”

  “I’m sure he does,” the man said. “Now then, can we get past this conversation and proceed to the part where I help you pick all these things up?”

  Muira and Torra looked at each other in disbelief. Surely, they had heard of gentleman before, but usually such acts of kindness around here always came with a price or at least an implication.

  “Well, I won’t stop you from helping us,” Muira said cautiously. “But just so you know, Torra is engaged to be married. And her husband-to-be won’t be having no extra kind gentleman showing up and causing a ruckus.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, falling to his knees and helping to pick up the fallen bags.

  “You know, fellow,” Muira continued, “as chivalrous as you are, three pairs of hands are not going to pick up this mess any faster.”

 
“Well, why don’t you start with the furs over there and let me pick up the food. I have experience in cleaning, you see.”

  “Oh really?” she said, taunting him a bit. “Are you the hired help?”

  “No,” he said with a smile, one he directed towards Torra. “But I have always found that good fortune falls upon me.”

  He winked at Torra. He waited until Muira turned around and then turned his head slightly, as if casting a silent spell. Within seconds, strong winds picked up and many vegetables, potatoes, fruits and other supplies went magically floating in the air and falling back into the floating sack.

  Torra stared in panic, then awe, as she realized this was no ordinary man. But keeping it a secret was all part of the fun.

  “I don’t know if you have plans to stay and…and…” Muira trailed off, as she turned ‘round to realize all her fallen supplies were now in the bags and ready to carry home.

  “May I do the honor, good woman? In exchange for only your name?”

  “Well, I say,” Muira said in complete surprise, wondering how the “cleaner” managed such a trick. “You must surely come in handy, Mister Seumas. Whatever it is you do.”

  Seumas carried all four bags with ease, not even breaking a sweat as he walked the two women home. The only one more captivated than Torra was Muira; Torra loved his magic but Muira was doubly impressed at his capacity to be a gentleman.

  “You do seem like a nice lad,” she said. “Forgive me for being suspicious. I don’t take kindly to nice men who insist upon warning me of pillagers and pirates coming for me. My husband can take care of them all just fine. We don’t need any protection from this Emery hooligan or his gang of rapists.”

  “They’re just trying to find wives,” Seumas said with a half-smile, no doubt having heard the same stories. “Some men have nothing else to offer but strength. Imagine their surprise to learn that not only can girls have fathers, and wives have husbands, but some women can even swing a sword themselves.”

  “That’s true,” Muira said with enthusiasm. “I seen it myself. A woman not any shorter than me, hunting for herself. Sword fighting the men just like she was one of them. Times are changing indeed.”

  “Times don’t change, not really. We simply go through repetitions of social evolution. Women are suppressed for a time. Then they revolt, they take back power. Then suppression again, and then revolt. And then it happens twenty times just like that. It’s just the law of mankind, restless and miserable mankind.”

  “Aye. You talk as if you’re an old man and yet you’re so young.”

  “Let’s just say I’m well preserved for my age,” Seumas said, looking to Torra and nodding, as if admitting the truth that Muira couldn’t fathom.

  “Nonsense! You look as young as a spring chicken. Handsome and a gentleman. Too bad my daughter is engaged.”

  “Well…I’m no—”

  Muira interrupted, still protective of their home. “Too bad indeed. But that shouldn’t matter to Mister Seumas here. He’s not looking for a wife. Are you, boy?”

  “No. I simply believe that when a man is able, he ought to lend a helping hand. Is that out of fashion yet?”

  “Not at all. It will never be out of fashion to be kind. At least, not if you surround yourself with good people.”

  II

  Seumas was invited into Muira’s home, even though he knew that Torra was not on any trade market. He was fine with that, and accepted the hospitality. Torra was mesmerized by the man’s powers and handsome visage, and used every opportunity to hint to him that she had no true betrothal in her life. She simply had very cautious parents.

  Speaking of her father…

  Kincaid stomped his way into the small modest cottage and quickly met eyes with the invader.

  “Who are you? You dare enter my house?” Kincaid spoke with heavy vengeance, already despising the man and using his most horrific and unwelcoming voice.

  “He is my guest, old codger. He helped Torra and I carry home our fallen produce. He is a decent man. But not interested in our girl, believe me.”

  “Aye? So why are you still here?” Kincaid asked in wrath. “You did your good deed, warrior. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “Is that any way to say thank you? I suppose manners are the next thing to fall out of fashion.”

  “Only thing that will be falling off of anything is your balls, son. If you keep standing in front of me.”

  Kincaid took his sword out of its sheath. The women became agitated and pleaded for Kincaid to calm himself and let the boy go without a fight.

  But Seumas only smiled, amused at the sight, and perhaps a bit detached from it all. “I can see my presence is distracting your family time together. I will be on my way.”

  “So sorry, Seumas,” Muira said apologetically. “It is becoming a grave sin to be helpful to a lady these days.”

  “Right!” Kincaid offered. “You tell Emery and his boys that nothing will intimidate me. I have nothing but enthusiasm for them, should they decide to pillage my house. I’ve named my battle axe after his gang of misfits.”

  Seumas shook his head slowly. “I am not with them. But before I go, old man, I ought to tell you one thing. Emery is not the one you ought worry about. He has a militia of maybe twenty men. The real warrior to lose sleep over is a man named Crestoff. He is a Highlander. And, an evil man to boot. If he chooses to pillage your region with his army, you will all die. Take that advice as you will take it.”

  “Get out of here,” Kincaid said, gritting his teeth and slowly raising the volume of his voice. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet…I fear nothing.”

  “That’s the problem,” the stranger said as he exited the cottage and turned back one last time. “Everyone should be afraid of something. Kill what you can and avoid those you cannot kill.”

  “Let them come to me!” Kincaid roared back. Kincaid waited until Seumas was outside his home and then sent another veiled threat. “Don’t think I hate you indiscriminately, O Good and Honorable Man.”

  Seumas stood still, listening to his comments.

  “I know what Highlanders are,” Kincaid fired off at the man. “And I know that you’re far too perceptive of them not to be one of those monsters yourself.”

  “Really, Kincaid!” Muira said in counsel. “You don’t even know the madness you speak!”

  Torra listened in fascination, figuring out this man’s enigma rather quickly. She saw him use his magic firsthand. He also knew her father was a bit of a mental wizard himself, knowing people’s true soul within an instant of meeting them. He knew what was funny about Seumas. She waited until her father settled down and then ventured out into the night, hoping to find that “Highlander” and learn what truly motivated his kind act.

  *

  Seumas sensed her coming and remained still, right at the entrance of the manned village area. He was sitting on a small hill and eating a snack. He eyed her approaching from a distance but remained relaxed and unaffected.

  “You’re still here,” Torra said.

  “Was I ordered to leave?” he said.

  “In so many words, yes. But you obviously have no fear of my father, do you? You are…gifted.”

  “What led you to that revelation?” he asked with an ominous smile.

  “I am speaking to you against my better judgment. I can only hope you’re not lying. This barbarian you speak of…is this threat real?”

  He lost his smile but kept looking into her eyes. “Unfortunately it is. I am here because I sense two other Highlanders in this region. As you may or may not know from our folklore…we must fight to the death. But I intend to be the last one standing.”

  “Are they evil Highlanders?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether they are or are not. It is simply what we must do.”

  “Are you…an evil Highlander?” she asked, a bit shyly.

  He smiled again. “I am a man who prefers to make love with a woman’s permission. It’s just
better that way.”

  “And do you…hurt humans? Regular people?”

  “I live by a strict moral code when it comes to violence,” he said. “I kill only other Highlanders and those who attack me. Yet, I don’t kill out of self-preservation. I kill because they attack me. Understand?”

  “I do. It’s what my own father says. He doesn’t pick fights with anyone who doesn’t deserve it. But once you have a death wish, he gives it to you.”

  “He is a wise man. He recognized me immediately for what I was.”

  “But there is one thing I still don’t understand. Why did you do what you did? Was it just to be kind?”

  “I always do kind things when I can afford the time. But I also admit to having a weakness for beautiful women.”

  “Oh,” Torra said shyly.

  “I saw you at the trading post. I came this way because I sensed where you were. Does this frighten you?”

  “I don’t know. You seem…very interested in me.”

  “How unfortunate that you are already committed to someone else,” he said with a teasing smile.

  She mirrored his face. “It keeps me safe, you understand.”

  “I don’t blame your father at all. Our kind and your kind don’t mix too well.”

  “Did you mean what you said about that Crestoff fellow? Or were you just trying to be smart with my father?”

  “I have no need to lie, my Lady. A fight against Crestoff and against the one called Artair is why I have been called here. A Highlander must fight to the death. It is our destiny.”

  Seumas sighed, almost appearing to be sympathetic to another person besides himself. Highlanders thought of compassion as weakness, but hundreds of years of watching innocent people die had hurt his heart, compelling him to warn whomever he could.

  “Crestoff is a worry, yes. You cannot kill another Highlander. You will try, but you will fail. Ten men of your father’s caliber couldn’t take him. Emery is not a threat. Crestoff is a threat. And one that I must destroy.”