A Highlander’s Terror (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Amabel,” he whispered.

  He ran a hand down her hair and then moved slowly downward, reaching for the buttons of the back of her gown. He wanted to see her naked. He had to kiss each inch of that sweet, curved body.

  He undid the topmost button and then moved the neck of the dress down lower. He undid the next one, and then the next. She tensed and then relaxed and he kissed her lips and then moved lower, nuzzling at her neck. Her skin was soft, so soft. He licked at it and felt his loins flood with longing as he reached the softness of her breasts. He drew the gown down and then, gently, unlaced her under-dress. He heard her gasp and slowly kissed her skin.

  He pulled the gown down from her breasts and tensed in amazement as he stared down at them. They were full and round, with pink nipples. He took one into his mouth and sucked, feeling it harden under his tongue.

  Amabel moaned and he worked at her breasts with his lips, loving the way they felt under his tongue. He moved lower, feeling his need heighten as he worked the dress down her body until it lay in a pile on the floor at the bed's end. The under-dress followed.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her. The firelight was soft on her pale skin and it flickered along her curves, highlighting them sweetly in light and shadow. He teased himself by letting his eyes travel from her beautiful oval face and long pale neck, down to her sweet breasts and down the pale belly, ending at the gentle rounding of her thighs.

  He reached forward and let his hand stroke the soft skin of her leg and then, very gently, work the two legs apart. She tensed as his hand moved between her thighs and he held his breath as he gently stroked her there.

  He moved lower, and he let his tongue work her there, moving over her sweet folds. He heard her cry out, breath sobbing in her throat, and knew that she was ready.

  He knelt up and looked down at her face, her eyes open now and watching him with no fear, only a rising longing that matched his own. He felt his loins throb and he undressed fast and came to kneel between her thighs.

  “Yes?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered in reply.

  ***

  Amabel looked into Rufus's gentle eyes as she lay underneath him. She felt her whole body shiver as he moved between her thighs. His body was so beautiful, with its broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and that narrow waist. She had known she wished to see more of it, but had never imagined it would be so beautiful.

  She could barely keep her eyes off him as he moved and, very carefully, slid himself inside her. Oh!

  She tensed, feeling him probe against her. Something hurt and she cried out, knowing it would be painful, but not expecting that brief, intense pain. Then, almost as soon as it stabbed into her, the pain vanished, replaced with a pleasure so intense that she thought she would melt, that she was dying, that she was afloat in a vat of sweetness that lapped through her and in her and round her as he moved, slowly and carefully, within her.

  “Oh,” she gasped. He was moving slowly, but each thrust seemed to press new spots inside her, each time filling her with a sweetness that was part tickle, part pain, part pleasure. She felt him reach a place where she thought the pleasure might actually overwhelm her, it was so intense. Each time he moved the waves of pleasure jolted through her, at first slow and sweet, and then intense and almost unbearable as he moved, faster and faster and faster...

  “Oh!”

  She screamed aloud as the feeling built and then broke over her like the spark that ignites an inferno. She closed her eyes and let the sensation flow through her, her entire lower body feeling as if she was drowning in a bath of syrup, so sweet, so tormentingly warm.

  She closed her eyes as he cried out and collapsed on top of her and he held her close. She wrapped her arms around him and they must have slept, for the next thing she knew was him kissing her lips and murmuring her name and then rolling over to lie beside her.

  She lay with her head on his arm, her own arms wrapped around him and they rested. Then, slowly, she felt his hand stroke her thigh and she felt her body tense and start to feel that same sweet longing that she had earlier, only now it was slower, more intense, more directed.

  They found fresh pleasures, learning the ways they liked to touch each other. They each learned much about their own pleasure and that of the other that night until, eventually, they collapsed and slept.

  They slept with her wrapped in his arms, her arms around him.

  The next morning, Amabel awoke with the grayness of light filtering through the screens and the warmth of her lover's arms around her.

  She moved closer and they lay together, savoring the warmth of morning.

  “Good morning, my dear.”

  Amabel smiled as he kissed her shoulder. She felt her body tense again and realized with some surprise that she was ready for more loving.

  “Good morning,” she whispered back.

  He moved beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder as, together, they watched the morning settle over the hills beyond the window.

  Amabel was sure she had never in her life before felt quite so amazing.

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE

  The day was dark, though it was afternoon. Amabel felt the warmth of the fire soothe her bones and she sat closer, feeling completely content.

  “My dear?”

  “Mm?”

  Amabel smiled at her mother, who came in briefly. Her smooth oval face was grave, but her eyes were warm.

  “I just wanted to ask if you would like more of that tea I brewed earlier?”

  Amabel smiled. “It is lovely, Mama,” she said fondly. “But it does make me so peaceful that I think I might drift away to sleep and not wake. I am so very peaceful already.”

  Lady Joanna smiled. “I am glad to hear it, Daughter.”

  “I'm glad.”

  Lady Joanna smiled. “I think I do not need to tell you what I have foreseen?”

  Amabel smiled. “I think we have seen the same.”

  Her mother's grin lit up her gentle eyes. “I am almost certain of it.”

  “It's a daughter, is it not?” she said. She rested a hand on her belly protectively. It was six months since the wedding and she was more than certain that she was with child.

  “Yes,” Joanna smiled. “With your appearance and...”

  “And Rufus' hair. And his difficult character.”

  They both laughed. “Well, yes,” Lady Joanna nodded, smiling. “I couldn't have put it better myself.”

  Amabel smiled. “You know I love him, despite how harshly I might seem to critique him.”

  Joanna grinned. “You love him, Daughter. He loves you. Were you any different together, it would not be...as it is.”

  “I know,” Amabel nodded. She was so happy. Their relationship was exactly right for her. Their banter and teasing, the way they could discuss things, even heatedly sometimes. Their passion. The trust they felt for one another, which was absolute. It underlay all they did.

  “I am so glad,” Joanna said, rising from where she had seated herself briefly on the settee, to leave.

  “Well, I must hie to the still room,” she said.

  “Yes,” Amabel nodded.

  “I shall see you later, Daughter.”

  “See you at dinner, Mama.”

  Her mother left. Amabel heard her footsteps heading softly down the hallway and she sat where she was, looking into the fire. She smiled at the visions and memories that mingled there, all equally tender to her heart.

  She was thinking of Rufus when she heard steps in the hallway. She knew that footfall by heart now and her heart thumped with happiness as she heard him enter.

  “Amabel?” he called out softly.

  “Rufus.”

  He came to sit beside her and she felt his lips move softly over her hair. She smiled and leaned against him, her heart warm as he held her with such care and sweetness.

  “You look happy,” he said gently.

  “I am happy,” Am
abel murmured.

  “Me, too.”

  They sat quietly a while.

  “You've been on the practice ground?” Amabel asked. He nodded sleepily.

  “Mm. I was sparring with Brogan. The boy is coming along well.”

  “I'm glad to hear it,” Amabel said fondly. Brogan was a good addition to the household guard already, steadfast and true. Amabel knew that, should Rufus ride to battle, she would feel better knowing the youth rode with him. They were already well-accustomed to working together.

  Amabel felt Rufus rest a gentle hand on her belly and she smiled.

  “You've thought of a name?” he asked.

  Amabel smiled. “This one is a girl,” she said with complete certainty. As usual, Rufus did not think to question how she knew.

  “Well, then,” he said with tenderness. “You have many names to choose from.”

  “I have,” Amabel smiled. “But I want to name her for you, somehow.” She touched his hair, the chestnut brown just gently lit with red highlights.

  “Well, I'm not sure if there is a female “Rufus”, my dear...” he paused. “Is there?”

  Amabel smiled. “Well, Rufus means red – or red-haired, rather – as I suppose you know.”

  He smiled. “I suppose I knew that too.”

  They both laughed.

  “In which case,” Amabel continued gently. “I suggest we call her Rubina.”

  Rufus raised a brow. “I like that. It's unusual.”

  Amabel nodded. “I think she will be an unusual lady.”

  Rufus chuckled. “If she's anything like her mother, then yes. I can say that with complete sureness.”

  Amabel felt love suffuse her chest, so intense and massive she could barely breathe.

  “Oh, Rufus,” she said gently. “You are unusual, too. Unusual and wonderful and quite, quite lovely. I love you so much.”

  She kissed his cheek and he giggled and kissed her back. “You are unusual, and wonderful, and lovely,” he said, kissing her on the cheek with every descriptor. “And clever, and wise, and beautiful and....oh!” He chuckled, sitting back. “I love you, too.”

  They kissed. Outside the sun shone in a red sunset, filling the room with warm golden light. Inside it was warmer still, a place of firelight, trust, safety, and love. Now and always.

  A SURPRISE FOR YOU!

  A BONUS NOVELLA

  THE HIGHLAND KNIGHT

  A MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH ROMANCE STORY

  by

  EMILIA FERGUSON

  and

  MountainSky House Publishing Co.

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  A scarred lady’s maid…a handsome and brave knight…and a jealous-minded enemy with visions of bloody revenge…

  A Lady’s Maid with Lofty Dreams

  Gracious and loyal Glenna MacIndow, lady’s maid to beautiful Lady Amabel, has never had to want for anything with her current charge. Her lady is kind to her and insists that they do almost everything together, from stately dances to meals and lengthy, personal conversations. When Glenna meets a handsome knight who takes her breath away, she has delightful dreams of happily ever after, and is shocked to learn that Lady Amabel feels the same toward one of his comrades-in-arms. For the two of them, the match cannot be, for Glenna’s knight is far above her station, and Lady Amabel’s is much beneath hers…

  A Brave Knight with a Strong Arm…

  The fourth son of a wealthy duke, Sir Conn McGowan is not a lowly knight with no prospects for the future. The only burr in his saddle at present is his old nemesis Sir Alexander, who for reasons unknown seems determined to murder Sir Conn at his earliest convenience. However, when a fateful dance leads to his heart being captured by a pretty lady’s made with a scarred face, Sir Conn’s battle only becomes more serious. Now he’ll do anything to protect the ruthless and talented swordsman’s new target—the lovely woman of his dreams.

  Guard the Lady’s Maid Night and Day…or Move on with his Life?

  Sir Conn and Glenna are faced with the most difficult of decisions now…whether they should pursue their forbidden love and risk the wrath of the ton or allow each other to move on, knowing that they will lose what could be their only chance at true love. Sir Alexander might make the choice for them, for when he takes Glenna against her will, his intentions are definitely not honorable, and surely no one will want her after he sullies her reputation. Only Sir Conn can save her now…if he even learns that she’s missing in time to save her.

  Should Sir Conn choose to marry a woman closer to his own station, one who will bring more to the table when it comes to his family’s wealth—or choose to forget duty and marry the woman he knows that he loves?

  Will Glenna decide to allow the handsome knight to pursue her, knowing that a long-term relationship is out of the question—or will the master swordsman who captures her put an end to her romantic dreams for all eternity?

  PROLOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  She wished she could see his face. However, the mask he wore obscured it. All she could see was two eyes, as green as emeralds...and the thin-lipped mouth that rose in a curious smile.

  “You dance quite beautifully,” he said melodiously.

  Glenna felt her heart thud within her chest. She shifted the mask over her big gray eyes, trying to obscure more of her face.

  “Th...thank you, sir,” she said. She felt her hands grow warm where they clutched his as they moved through the steps of the dance.

  “I feel...grateful...to have such an experienced partner,” he added as they turned together.

  Glenna swallowed. She felt awkward, like she was not being truthful. What would he think if he knew I was a lady's maid? She felt her head spin at the thought. Abruptly, she stopped moving, lifting a hand to her dark brown hair.

  “My lady?” The masked man was concerned.

  Glenna shook her head. She wished he wouldn't call her that. “I'm well,” she stammered. “Don't concern yerself with me.”

  He blinked, frowning in concern. She felt wretched, thinking the concern was for her sudden shift of accent. Now he's heard my accent slip and he knows for sure that I'm no lady. Just about now he'll turn and walk out. She sighed.

  “Come,” he said gently. “You seem unwell. Please...do sit down awhile.”

  Glenna looked at the floor, but she allowed him to steer her gently to the refreshments table, heart thudding in her chest as he took her arm. She had no place here, no reason to be here dancing with this tall, elegant gentleman with the beautiful, strong hands.

  Where are we going?

  He led her to the edge of the vast hall. There, on the edge of the torch-lit space, was a row of columns, a recess in the wall. He drew her into it. Glenna felt her heart stop. Here, it was darker, the music fainter. They were, to all intents and purposes, alone. She was suddenly afraid of him.

  What is he going to do to me? He knows I'm no lady. I should escape.

  She struggled in his grasp and then stood still as he made a soft hushing noise that, admittedly, wasn't very threatening.

  I wish I hadn't let my lady persuade me to come. Not that she had taken much persuading.

  Lady Amabel, her charge and a lady only four years her junior, was here at court awaiting the arrival of her father, the duke, from business at his estate, Buccleigh Castle. As it was the night of the masked ball, Amabel – headstrong and generous – had hit on the plan of bringing her maid, Glenna, along.

  Glenna ran nervous fingers over the blue velvet of her gown and checked that the silver mask was in place over her eyes. “Sir,” she whispered as his hand moved down her back and drew her to him. “Sir. Please...”

  He stopped. Stepped back. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I have pressed you into this. Please. Leave me if you will.”

  Glenna stared at him as he stepped back, taking his hands away from her. She felt her heart sing with relief and a surprising gentleness. She looked up, but all she could see were those green eyes – solemn, gentle – and tha
t thin-lipped mouth.

  “I didn't mean to frighten you,” he said solemnly.

  “Sir,” she whispered. “I'm...I'm not afraid of you.”

  She surprised herself. Until a moment ago, she had been. Now she was bold.

  He slumped, visibly relieved. “I'm glad,” he said. “I was a rash fool.”

  “No,” Glenna whispered. “Well, mayhap,” she added with a chuckle.

  He smiled. She saw the green eyes crinkle at the corners, an endearing smile on his lips. Involuntarily, she reached up as if to pluck the mask.

  He smiled. “In a moment, my dear lady,” he whispered.

  Glenna sighed. “I too, sir.”

  The thought hurt. She had chosen a mask that covered her whole face for a good reason. In a few moments, he would see her revealed. She shuddered. He'll see the scar, then. And what will he think of me? He'll shudder, bow, and walk away. Oh, well. She had lived with the scar for four years. She reckoned that she should be used to the reactions it inspired by now. She would be brave.

  “Unmask!”

  Glenna sighed, feeling sad.

  He smiled down at her. “Ready?”

  Glenna nodded, swallowing tears. “Mayhap.”

  He let the mask drop. She stared at him, seeing his full face for the first time, and he was breathtaking. Green eyes with heavy lids, a long, thin nose and a mouth like a grave line below it, lips lifted in a close-lipped grin. Symmetrical and strong-jawed, his beauty made her heart ache.

  “My lady?” he said.

  Glenna let the mask drop. She looked at the floor. Now he would know.

  Slowly, deliberately, he bent down. His finger went under her chin and its warm strength tipped her head back, staring into her face. Then, to her utter surprise, he kissed her full on the mouth.