Temptation in a Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  “Ye both have been wed for some time and act as though ye are still courting. ’Tis disgusting.” Ciaran scrunched up his face in annoyance.

  “Only an unwed man would say that, Brother,” Aiden countered.

  He rose, placing the chair back across the room. “I need to take my leave of ye… both.”

  “Aye. Tell Rosalia donna forget to pay me a visit later. Remind her that she gave her word,” said Aisling with a curt nod.

  Raising his brow, Ciaran nodded as he closed the door. As if he needed Aisling planting ideas into Rosalia’s mind—two women conspiring against him. He shivered at the mental image. Proceeding down the corridor, he wanted to see how Rosalia fared or if she wanted for anything. He knocked on her door, and she bid him enter. She was seated at the window bench overlooking the loch, appearing to be more at ease since the last time he had seen her. For some reason, he felt relief that she would be.

  He sat down beside her. “Before I lose my thought, I was to tell ye, donna forget to visit with Aisling. She said to remind ye that ye gave your word.”

  She laughed. “Aye. ’Tis so beautiful here,” she said, looking back at the loch. “Aisling said the view from the parapet is wonderful at this time. Do ye have a moment to take me?” she asked hopefully.

  Standing, he held out his hand. “Aye. How do ye fare?”

  Rosalia shrugged her shoulders. “I am sore, but the pain is lessening.”

  “It takes time to heal. Donna push yourself.” She stood and he placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the door. “I meant what I spoke before. If ye want for anything, ye need only ask.”

  “My thanks. And donna scold me for saying so.”

  They walked down the corridor in silence. Opening the door to the stairs, Ciaran let her in front of him, a decision he should have thought twice about. How could he help but notice her swaying hips before him? He pulled his eyes away from her and focused on his feet. When they reached the top of the steps, they found that the door to the parapet was bolted.

  “Just slide the latch and it will open,” he instructed.

  Reaching out, Rosalia made several attempts to open it, but it would not budge. “I cannae move it.”

  Placing his hand on her arm, he smiled. “Here, let me have at it.” Ciaran stepped up as she stepped down, feeling her breasts rub against his chest. As soon as his eyes met hers, she looked away. He pulled the bolt and the door opened easily.

  “I am pleased I was able to loosen it for ye,” she said with a trace of laughter.

  He chuckled. “Aye. Ye loosened it so much it came right open. Ye have my thanks, lass.” As soon as she walked out onto the parapet, she shivered. “Are ye cold?” he asked, draping his arm over her shoulders.

  “Nay, just a brief chill.”

  Blue, red, orange, and gold hues glistened on the horizon over the loch. Because they were standing so far from the ground, they seemed to be looking directly into the heavens. She was obviously enchanted by the view. Having seen this sight many times before, Ciaran was starting to take it for granted. It was refreshing to appreciate it again through her eyes.

  “I have ne’er seen anything so beautiful in all of my life,” she whispered.

  “I agree with ye,” he murmured. Rosalia did not realize he was gazing at her when he spoke. Standing there with her bruised face and cut tresses, she glanced upon the view with a serene look upon her features. Neither one of them spoke as the setting sun kissed a final farewell.

  Rosalia hugged her arms around her.

  “Come,” he spoke softly, nudging her away. “Ye are chilled.”

  “Please wait, Ciaran. ’Tis so peaceful here.” She pulled back slightly and sighed at the loch.

  “Ye arenae frightened?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow questioningly.

  Her lips parted in surprise. “Of what?”

  “The height.” He extended his hand to the ground far below.

  Amusement flickered in the eyes that met his. “Nay. As long as ye donna push me off, I am nae afraid.”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gazed down at her and smiled. “That willnae happen.”

  They stood in silence.

  “Rosalia…” He had no idea what he wanted to say to her, but he felt he should say something. Now that he had her close, he did not want to let her go. Her breath was becoming fast and uneven. When her eyes glazed over, he knew he had to kiss her.

  Ciaran leaned in close and she closed her eyes. At first, when his lips finally covered hers, he was gentle. He was not too urgent, but his kiss was that of a hungry lover. Licking her lip, he forced her to open her mouth to him. The moment his tongue found entry, she did not resist. He wanted to devour her softness.

  “Och, Rosalia,” he moaned, his hands nestling her bottom closer. He clutched at her as if he could not get enough.

  Her hand slid hesitantly over his back, his skin afire where she touched him.

  It still was not enough. His lips left her mouth, trailing down her neck to her collarbone. She moaned at each touch, her mewling sounds firing his passion even more. Reaching for the top of her bodice, he pulled back, giving her the opportunity to deny him. She only looked at him with glazed passion in her eyes.

  He ran the back of his fingers over the swell of her breasts and she shuddered. Closing her eyes, she took a sharp intake of breath. Instead of pulling away as he thought she might, she merely arched her back and let out a soft moan.

  He molded her to him, his arms wrapping around her like a vise. Her breasts flattened against his chest and he shuddered with desire. Wedging his thigh between her legs, he could feel her heat pouring through her skin.

  She gently pulled away from him, breathless. “Nay, Ciaran.” She placed her hands on his forearms.

  Instead of releasing her as he should, he pulled her close. “We will cease, Rosalia, but donna pull away from me. Let me simply hold ye.”

  Rubbing his hands over her back, he felt her hands on his chest. What the hell was he thinking? His vow of not becoming involved was shattering. He’d almost lost control. God’s teeth! If she would have permitted him, he would have taken her standing there. That wasn’t necessarily true. He still had some self-control. He would have at least taken her to a bed.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. “Come. I will escort ye back to your chamber. Do ye want me to have a tray sent up for ye?”

  She could not look him in the eye. “Aye. My thanks.”

  Neither one of them spoke as he escorted her back to her chamber. He did not know what to say. Opening her door, he waited, both of them remaining perfectly still and afraid to speak to their thoughts.

  “Ciaran…” She spoke softly, her eyes focused on the floor. “I donna understand all of what is between us, but I donna want ye to just take me for a tumble—”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A tumble? Rosalia, look at me,” he said, raising her chin. “I donna understand all of this either, but I assure ye, my intentions arenae just to take ye for a tumble.” At least he spoke the truth. He was not sure what his intentions were.

  She entered her bedchamber and turned around and smiled. “Good sleep, my laird,” she said, slowly closing the door in his face.

  Why the hell did she stir such thoughts? The question hammered at him until something clicked in his mind. If he fulfilled his vow to his father, he could move on with his own life—his own desires. Damn. Declan needed to find his path… quickly.

  ***

  Declan’s head felt as if it had been run over by a stampede of horses. Staggering through the bailey, he could not see straight. Someone really should remind him not to get so fully into his cups. He took another drink of ale from his tankard and headed toward the stables. Perhaps Aiden would keep him company. If anyone saw him drinking with Ai
sling’s horse, they would surely think him daft. What the hell did he care anyway? He could damn well do as he pleased.

  “Halò,” said a soft voice.

  He looked up from his tankard and smirked. “And what could ye possibly want? His lairdship is sure to be somewhere… lairding,” he slurred.

  “I donna seek Ciaran. I was seeking ye,” Beathag spoke silkily. Slithering toward him, she took his arm, leading him into the stables.

  “Now what could ye possibly want me for?” he asked, trying to keep his head from moving and finding it difficult. Everything was spinning.

  “Ye know? I have always found ye the most handsome of the brothers,” she said in an alluring voice.

  Declan raised his tankard in mock salute. “Ye know it.” He took another swig of ale.

  “Your brother underestimates ye at every turn. I see how ye took charge when he departed. Ye are a strong and handsome man, Declan MacGregor,” she purred, rubbing her hands over his chest. “The men respect ye, Declan. Ye are a true leader.”

  “Well, nae everyone around here thinks as ye.” He caught himself as he almost toppled over.

  Beathag steadied him.

  “What do ye want, Beathag?” he asked, annoyed. Could a man not have a simple drink and talk with his faithful companion alone?

  “Ye,” she said, pulling him close. Kissing him, she ran her tongue over his lips.

  He pushed her away, still holding one hand on his tankard. “I may be in my cups, but nae enough to know ye are still my brother’s—”

  “Nay. I am not.” Grabbing his cock, she began to stroke him.

  He stilled her hand. “What are ye about?”

  “Just take what I give ye,” she murmured as she resumed her purpose.

  “And ye donna think my brother will have a say?” He tried to keep focused on the conversation and not to be distracted by her ministrations.

  “He doesnae want me. He told me so. We are done,” she bit out.

  So that was the truth of the matter. “And ye are here with me because…?”

  “I always favored ye best,” she purred. “Ye want me. I can tell,” she said, still stroking him.

  “And what makes ye think I want ye?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  Glancing down at his apparent arousal, she had a smug look upon her face. “Besides the obvious? I know ye and your brother well, Declan. Ciaran thinks too much, but ye are as me. We donna care about anyone.” She knelt on the ground before him and lifted his kilt, attempting to take him into her mouth.

  He pushed her shoulder away from him with his free hand. “Ye know, Beathag? There is something ye donna know about me and my brother.”

  Fighting his restraining hand, she leaned in close, licking the tip of his manhood. “And what is that?”

  Declan poured the rest of his tankard over her head. “We donna share whores.” What a waste of good ale, he thought, pulling down his kilt.

  Eight

  Rosalia barely slept. Memories of Ciaran’s hands and skillful mouth touching her body replayed in her mind. He was so warm, so big, and so very strong. How could she grant him such liberties? What was wrong with her? Thinking of his kisses, she actually did not understand his intentions. Perhaps he sought some enjoyment before he took her to Glengarry and believed such liberties were his payment for escorting her. Nonetheless, she could not let herself get attached to him. What would happen when she took her leave for Glengarry? Her heart would be shattered. How she wished James was here so she could seek his counsel.

  Her pain had lessened from the day before. After seeing to her morning needs, she dressed, cringing when she remembered her promise to Aisling. Aiden’s wife would be cross with her, but there was nothing she could have done differently. Ciaran tangled her mind and muddled her thoughts. Opening the door to her chamber, Rosalia took a deep breath. This was a new day. She would not allow him to affect her.

  As soon as she walked by Aisling’s door, Aiden swung open the door and smiled. “Are ye going to break your fast?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

  “Aye. Where is Aisling?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Escaped. Early this morn.” He chuckled.

  “I hope she wasnae too cross with me for nae coming back yestereve. It was late and I thought she would be resting,” she explained, hoping she was not in hot water.

  He shook his head as they descended the stairs. “Nay. She thought Ciaran took ye upon the parapet.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks and she glanced away from him.

  They approached the dais where Aisling was already seated. Placing his hand on the back of her chair, Aiden bent to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Good morn, sweeting. I see ye escaped before I even awoke this morn.” He pulled out his chair and sat down.

  “Of course, Husband. My confinement is over,” she said as if the answer were obvious. Turning her attention to Rosalia, she raised her brow.

  “And how is our Laird MacGregor?” Aisling asked.

  “I am just fine,” said a warm voice from behind Rosalia.

  Ciaran sat down at the table. “I see ye are up and about early this morn, Aisling.”

  “Aye. I am finally freed from the walls of my prison,” she said, pausing to take a drink from her tankard.

  “And how are ye this morn, Rosalia?” asked Ciaran, huskiness lingering in his tone.

  Why did he have to look at her so knowingly? Memories of their embrace on the parapet replayed in her mind and she answered quickly, choking on her words. “I am fine, my laird.” Clearing her throat, she studied her trencher. Maybe a change of subject would be a good idea for them both. “So what do ye do on your first day of freedom?” Rosalia asked.

  “Now donna push yourself too soon, Wife,” said Aiden, a hint of censure in his tone.

  “Husband, ye worry overmuch. Howbeit ye worry about ye, and why donna ye let me worry about me?” she chided him.

  “And what do ye do, Rosalia?” Ciaran redirected.

  Besides thinking about your lips kissing me and your hands…

  “I donna know. I wanted to visit with Noonie and also see how he fares to ensure Niall doesnae spoil him.”

  Ciaran chuckled. “Well, there is that. I train with my men this morn in the bailey, but I can take ye to see more of my lands if ye want. Mayhap after the noon meal.”

  “Aye. I would love to see your home, my laird.”

  Seumas walked forward, stopping in front of them. He nodded to Ciaran. “The men are ready when ye are. We shall meet ye in the bailey.”

  “I will be there shortly.”

  “Aye, my laird.” Seumas gave Rosalia a slight bow. “My lady.”

  She groaned as he walked away. “Why do Seumas and Calum insist on ‘my ladying’ me when I tell them time and time again that they had been calling me by my given name? After all we have been sharing as of late, ye would think they would accept that,” she said with irritation.

  “Probably the same reason why ye keep ‘my lairding’ me, lass,” Ciaran noted. “They only show respect.”

  “Well, ’tis annoying.”

  “As I told ye before, my men are dependable, but I didnae say they werenae annoying.” Tossing the last of the biscuit in his mouth, he rose. “I will meet with ye later.”

  “Aye—well, give Seumas another swing upon your sword and be sure to let him know it was from me.”

  “It would be my pleasure, lass.” He nodded to Aiden. “Do ye come now, Brother?”

  “Aye.” Aiden rose, but not before he kissed Aisling on the cheek. Rosalia wondered if the gods would ever grace her with such a marriage.

  Aisling tapped her on the arm. “Now that they take their leave, I will go and see to Teàrlach. Do ye want to come along?”

  “Aye.” Rosalia pushed b
ack her chair and stood. “He is such a beautiful bairn, Aisling.”

  Aisling portrayed the image of a proud mother. “My thanks.”

  They entered the nursery where an older woman who Rosalia assumed to be Bessie was holding him. “He sleeps,” the woman whispered.

  Aisling stretched out her arms and cradled her son. She sat down in a chair, rubbing her finger over his tiny cheek. Glancing up at Rosalia, she smiled. “’Tis my favorite time with him. He sleeps and has such a look of peace upon his face.”

  Rosalia bent down beside her. “He is so small. Aiden is right. Ye are so good with him. Have ye been around many bairns before Teàrlach?”

  “I just remember my youngest brother, Ailig, when he was a bairn. ’Tis verra different when ye have your own.”

  Rosalia could not remember sharing this type of closeness with her mother. She hoped one day she would be able to have the same experience with her child. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out her mother’s voice chipping away at her sanity and telling her she was already more than likely barren. Granted, she was one and twenty. Although, studying Aisling, she noticed that the new mother did not appear to be much younger than herself.

  Aisling stood with Teàrlach. “Sit in the chair, Rosalia.” When a panicked expression crossed Rosalia’s features, she added, “Donna battle with me. Come now. Sit in the chair.” Rosalia reluctantly sat down in the chair, and Aisling placed Teàrlach gently in her arms. “All ye need to do is support his head. He cannae hold it up by himself yet. Ye are doing it. Ye see? ’Tisnae hard.”

  Rosalia rubbed her hand over the baby’s tiny curls as a warm glow flooded her with emotion. Gazing into his tiny face, she caressed his cheek lightly with her finger. He was so soft. It amazed her that such a little life could be brought into the world. His innocence brought her sheer joy. She sighed and as soon as she started to relax, Teàrlach screamed loudly—well, now he was not so peaceful. Bessie came over and took him from Rosalia’s arms.

  “Ye know? I need to walk. I think some fresh air will do me good. Bessie, I will be back for Teàrlach before the noon meal,” said Aisling, kissing Teàrlach on the head.