by Fiona Faris
* * *
“I would say it’s nice to see ye again, Buchanan, but tis not,” Mackenzie said, his lips turned down.
“I ken we’ve had our differences Mackenzie, but this is a matter of justice.”
“Oh, aye? And what has that tae dae wi’ me, eh?”
“This boy stole his brathair’s birthright. His bride. And if we let it go, what comes next? People ken what he’s done. ‘e has brought labor from Edinburgh to work his pilfered lands. Will we just let it go?”
The Mackenzie narrowed his eyes. “Isna he yer son?”
“He is indeed, and I havena disowned him. But as his faither, I canna let this slide.”
The Mackenzie sighed. “Verra weel. Do what ye mun. But we wilna get involved.”
“That is all I ask.”
“Aye.” Mackenzie twisted his lips, turning away. In a serious breach of protocol, he didn’t ask Buchanan and his son to stay and break bread with him. This whole business left a bad taste in his mouth, as it did with most lairds in the region. But Buchanan was within his rights to demand retribution for what his by-blow had done. And if he had indeed stolen his brother’s bride, he needed to remedy that.
Like most lairds, Mackenzie hoped they found a peaceful solution. Things were already quite ugly as it was.
Barclays and Lachie walked off the Mackenzie lands confident that even if they hadn’t enlisted the help of the Mackenzie clan, at least they would stay out of it. Which meant that Ethan could not rely on them for support. Lachie knew that he had just twenty men from Edinburgh – and sailors at that. They were likely not loyal enough to fight for Ethan and so their plan would be easily carried out.
Lachie could not wait.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Georgiana and Ethan grinned shyly at each other, as they stood on the top ledge of their stables. Ethan took off his jacket and laid it down on the bales of hay. “There ye go. Now ye shallna get hay scratching ye.”
“Who said I’ll be at the bottom?” she grinned naughtily, surprising him yet again.
He smoothed out his jacket and turned to her, only to find her struggling with her hooklets. He hurried forward to help her, and together they managed, pulling her dress off, and leaving her lacy undergarments on display.
Ethan took a deep breath. “I have tae ask…”
She smiled. “Go on.”
“What inspired ye to wear this thing?” his finger trailed along the lace.
She looked down, watching his finger move. “I found it in my trousseau. I suppose it was meant to be for the honeymoon. It seems like something my mother would include.”
“And…were ye intending tae…seduce me?”
She grinned shyly, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
He circled her waist with his hands, bringing her closer to him so she could feel his erection. “Weel then…how aboot I seduce ye instead?”
His gaze met hers, licking his lips, his eyes half-lidded. She copied him, running her tongue over her lips and he made a hungry sound deep in his throat. “I think that would be an excellent idea.”
He ran his hands slowly up and down her sides from armpit to waist, and then circled around her back, pulling her against him. He began to sway from side to side, taking her with him. She put her arms around his neck, letting him move her as he pleased.
“Is this some Scottish dance I don’t know about?”
“Nae. But it should be…”
She smiled, full and happy, and reached up, fitting her lips to his. He held her in his strong arms, flush against him, and kissed her back. They took their time to explore each other’s mouths, rediscovering the joy of physical union. She pulled back, plucking at his shirt, making inarticulate noises that he understood to mean she wanted his shirt off. He hastened to comply and pulled her back against his chest, capturing her lips again, plundering her mouth.
Her leg rose to wrap around his thigh, and he gasped, jerking forward, his manhood digging into her stomach.
“Why are we not naked?” she asked against his lips.
“I dinna ken,” he grinned, letting go of her to divest himself of his breeches, stockings, and shoes as she took off her lacy undergarment and then lay down on his coat, resting her head on her hand as she looked invitingly up at him.
“Come here.”
He did not have to be told twice. He knelt down on the hay, smiling at her and taking her foot in his hand, massaging it. She jerked, gasped, surprised that she could feel the sensation all the way to her center. She could feel her wetness and widened her legs, beckoning him closer. He ignored her summons, instead bending over her foot and putting her big toe in his mouth.
She squeaked, as her whole body jolted in reaction. He suckled her foot as her other leg circled his neck, trying to pull him away from her foot and up her body. He resisted until she was cussing again, pleading. “Come on, please, I’m ready. Please now, Ethan, dammit!”
He chuckled indulgently and let go of her foot. “Ye’re so impatient.”
“You’re so slow. Come here, please. Don’t force me to come over there and get you.”
He bowed slowly, “Yer wish is my command, madam.”
He crawled up her body, looming over her. His erection brushing teasingly against her skin. She surged upward, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him down, so he was flush against her.
“I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered hungrily.
“The noo?”
“Yes, now, you ass. Now! Now! Now! Before I die.” She pulled at him, arching upward, doing everything short of grabbing his cock and guiding it inside of her.
“Shh…Ye shall get what ye want…”
She heaved a huge sigh, “Finally. Love me, please. Love me hard.”
“Yes, my lady,” he withdrew from her almost completely before slamming into her again. She let out a breathless gasp and hung on for dear life as he thrust again and again, hitting her sensitive spot time and again, so fast and hard that all she could do was hold on and whimper, her limbs weak with pleasure.
“Uh…Oh, God, yes. Please don’t stop,” she murmured, spurring him to more passionate copulation. He took her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue in sync with his manhood thrusting into her. She couldn’t think. All she could do was feel surround by him, drowning in his love and savoring every second. Her hands dug into his shoulders, creating bloody ridges that he could barely feel.
“Yes, just like that. Give it to me.” Her back arched as she strained to take him deeper, his tempo increasing as if wanting to possess her body and soul.
They stopped kissing to breathe, but his mouth moved to her neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks on her skin.
“I can mark ye too,” he murmured before licking and suckling at the mark he’d made. She hmmed with pleasure, turning her head to give him more room to work. She could feel her climax bearing down on her and grabbed his hand, pulling it toward her sensitive nub. He took the hint and began to rub at her clitoris as he pounded into her. She let go and uttered a soft scream, her body convulsing, legs shaking, mouth open, and eyes closed. She surrendered to the feeling, letting it wash over her. Dimly, she felt Ethan’s increased pace, his uneven panting, the increased strength with which he held her down, but it was overshadowed by her own pleasure. Her own completion.
He let go, flooding her with his seed, and her body pumped him, greedy to have it all. His voice sounded almost pained as he groaned into her shoulder, and she reached up, running a hand through his hair.
He collapsed on top of her and lay there, breathing hard. She kept her own eyes closed … feeling loose and happy… satisfied. There was nothing better than this, sharing this union with her husband – knowing for sure she loved and was loved.
She had missed it so much.
“We shouldn’t fight,” she mumbled.
“Aye. We shouldna. Especially if’n we could be doing this instead.”
She huffed a laugh. “Yes, exactly.�
� Her hand dropped to the hay, and she realized she was having difficulty breathing.
He immediately moved to the side, but only far enough away that he could pull her close.
“We should go back. They mun be wondering where we are,” he added after a while.
“I suppose.” She rose with difficulty, reaching for her clothes, feeling too lethargic to hook her dress back up, but thankfully Ethan was able to help her. He even strapped her knife to her thigh with a grin.
He preceded her down the ladder, and she followed directly after, still smiling, her insides still warm from their lovemaking. She wanted to curl up on her bed, relive it all. Her stomach lurched, and she realized she was hungry. She smiled, thinking about all the energy they had expended.
There was the sound of a thud and then a shout of surprise, and she tried to look down and see what had caused it.
“Ethan? What’s wrong?” she called as she increased her pace. She cried out in surprise as her ankle was grabbed, and someone pulled her down off the ladder. She opened her mouth to scream, but a filthy, smelly hand covered her mouth and nose, filling her immediately with nausea from the odor. She heaved, a projectile of vomit shooting out of her mouth and coating the strange hand. There was a sound of disgust, and the hand was quickly pulled away from her mouth allowing her to bend over and retch. She saw her husband lying on the stable ground, blood seeping from a wound at his temple. She opened her mouth to scream but realized there was a pistol aimed at her own forehead.
“If ye make a sound, he dies, here and now,” a voice threatened.
She looked up, realizing she was surrounded. Three men stood around her, two of them had pistols, and one came forward with a rope and began to tie her hands.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Shut up!” the one pointing a pistol at her temple hissed.
She was manhandled by the rope and pushed towards a horse. She wanted to beg the men, tell them that she was pregnant and ask could they leave her alone, but these men did not seem like the kind to care about her delicate state. She took one last look at her husband, lying helpless on the floor and bit back a sob.
Will somebody find him in time?
They roughly carried her onto the horse, and then the one without a pistol sat behind her. The other two had their own horses, and they rode out together. She looked bleakly toward the fortress, praying that someone would see. Where was Fergus? And Misty? Surely someone would notice the strange horses cantering away from their stables.
Georgiana began to pray.
* * *
“Ethan! Ethan! Wake up.” The voice seemed to come from far away, and yet it hammered into his head, causing him so much pain that he wanted to cower away from it.
“Ethan!”
He jerked, eyes opening, and looked around him in confusion.
“Who…wha…?” he stared at the blurry faces above him, waiting for them to come into focus.
“Thank heavens. He’s awake. Let’s get him to the house. Mr. Buchanan, can ye stand?” a familiar voice asked, although Ethan could not immediately place it.
“Mr. Buchanan?”
Ethan jerked, realizing he’d been drifting, also that the figures were becoming a little more recognizable. Fergus and the good doctor were hovering over him, worried frowns on their faces.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We were hoping ye could tell us.” Fergus' voice was dry.
Suddenly Ethan shot to a sitting position, “Georgie!” he shouted, “Where is she?”
Fergus frown deepened. “She was here? With ye?”
“Aye! Where is she?”
“I dinna ken. We only found ye, passed oot on the floor.”
“Nae! Where is she? Find her!” Ethan tried to scramble to his feet but found that it was not as easy as he had hoped. He was unsteady, dizzy, and his vision was blurry.
Fergus turned to someone and ordered them to search everywhere for Mrs. Buchanan, as Ethan tried to stand steadily.
“Can ye remember what happened? Who attacked ye?” the doctor asked as he leaned forward to peer at the wound.
Ethan squinted, trying to remember what happened. “We were…coming down the ladder and then…nothing.” He blinked a few times, trying to recall any other details.
There was nothing.
“Could it be Lachie?” Fergus gave voice to the feeling of dread in Ethan’s belly. He lurched forward, bending double and vomited onto the ground. He noted that someone else had been sick before him and blinked. He followed the trail where someone had stepped in the vomit, someone with fairly big feet and then walked a few steps away…where there were hoof prints.
“I…think…somebody took her,” he added bleakly.
* * *
Georgiana’s heart was beating so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest and run back the way they’d come. They were going at a fast clip, and she did not know enough about the place to have a clue where they were going. The man on the horse with her didn’t speak to her, and soon, with the combination of hunger and fear, she began to feel faint.
She was afraid that they might let her fall off the horse and tried to hold onto consciousness but could see the black spots in front of her eyes as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. Soon, everything went black, and the last thing she heard was, “Catch her!”
She came to… lying down in a well-appointed room with a high ceiling. She looked around in panic, trying to guess where she might be.
“Oh, ye’re awake. Finally,” a man stepped in the door, dressed like a gentleman. The family resemblance was clear, with the same ginger hair, the same blue eyes, but on this man what was endearing on Ethan twisted into cruelty and coldness. His eyes were not the blue of summer, but glacial winter skies reflected on ice. His ginger hair was not unruly but severely pulled back in a braid. He stared at her as if she was nothing but a commodity, and she understood at last why Ethan had said he had saved her from his brother.
She took a deep breath. “I suppose you must be Lachie Buchanan.”
“Aye,” he nodded, “Ah’m yer lawfully wedded husband. Welcome hame, wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Ethan! Ethan!” something shook him, and he startled awake, looking up at Fergus’ face that seemed to be ebbing and flowing like the high tide.
“Wha-?” he mumbled his tongue heavy and his mind a mangle of jumbled thoughts.
“It seems ye were attacked,” Fergus’ voice echoed, making his head pound. He scrunched his eyes shut and winced.
“Can ye stop shouting?” he whispered.
“Apologies, sir. Where’s yer wife?” Fergus looked around as if she might pop up from beneath the hay. That jolted Ethan to sit up, looking around frantically, headache forgotten.
“Where is she?” he asked urgently, struggling to his feet, “She was here, with me. I think they’ve got her.”
“Who? Who has her?” Fergus clutched his arm.
Ethan blinked a few times, trying to think. “I dinna ken. But I think…whoever it was that hit me o’er th’ head took her.”
“It must be yer brother. Ye think it was yer brother,” Fergus paced in a circle, clutching his hair in distress.
Ethan nodded and then immediately clutched his head in pain. “Tis the most likely person.”
“What’ll we dae?” Fergus asked.
“We’ll go and get her back, what else?” Ethan was practically growling. He could barely open his eyes, but he still felt capable to ride hell for leather to Daltern.
“Ye should go to the hoose and let the good doctor look at ye. I shall gather men and weapons.”
Ethan began to shake his head to being examined, but even that small movement sent pains shooting across his head. “Aye, awrigh’. I’ll go tae see the sawbones. I shallna be long. Be ready to ride oot.”
“Aye boss. I shall.”
Fergus stomped off determinedly, and Ethan made a slower way out of the barn and towards the house.
His heart was hammering with fear and trepidation. If Lachie had taken his wife and somehow found out she was pregnant…Ethan could not bear to think what would happen then. Lachie had the most reckless temper. He could kill Georgiana before Ethan even had a chance to get her back.
He quickened his footsteps, relieved to find the doctor waiting for him in the parlor, his instruments laid out.
“Let me have a look at ye,” he said, “and I think I should travel with ye just in case she needs some medical help on the spot.”