Stolen By A Highlander (Scottish Pregnancy Romance)

by Kaley McCormick

  Artair went onward, inching his way around the site but not finding anyone of immediate threat. A pity, he thought, that he might not run into anyone out of necessity. Part of him really wanted to waste all this refuse. But this mission wasn’t about vengeance, just protection.

  Or maybe a bit of vengeance, since by something more than happenstance Nessie ran into a familiar face.

  “Nessie?” William said, smelling of alcohol as usual, but surprisingly bad timing nonetheless.

  “William is that you?” Nessie asked.

  “Of course it’s me. Where the hell have you run off to? I been looking everywhere for ye.”

  “Oh have you now?”

  “Savages raided the site while you were away. At first I hid myself, until I realized that if I just pretended to be one of the warriors, I could probably act my way out of a predicament. I grabbed my old tattered armor and joined the crowd.”

  “Did you, now?” Nessie asked in suspicion.

  “Aye. Ingratiated myself rather well. Although it was a bit rough having to put down some of my own people.”

  “Wait a minute. You pretend to be one of their men…and then just attacked your own people?”

  “Well I had to, didn’t I?” he asked defensively. “It was either me or them. Children you know, they don’t even count as lives when they’re so young.”

  Nessie squinted her eyes in judgment. She knew what she wanted to do. But her better judgment stepped in and delayed smashing him in the face. Instead, she found his eyes and gathered every last emotion of hate buried in her soul.

  “Now you listen hear, William. You want to know where I’ve been?”

  “Hiding, I gather?”

  “No. One of the warriors took me, William. And he had his way with me.”

  William stared back in venom, not quite concerned about the dishonorable taking of his wife, but rather upset that another man had known her pleasure.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Well-”

  But Nessie interrupted. “Well what? The funny part of it is, even though I had no choice in the matter, I enjoyed it. I loved what he did to me, William. You hear me?”

  William scowled and stared a hole through her, already turning red with hateful thoughts.

  “He slipped his cock inside of me and it was bigger than you ever could hope for. How does that make you feel?”

  “This is what you have to tell me? After I came looking for you and saved your life?”

  “You didn’t save my life, dear one,” she laughed scornfully. “You unfortunately prolonged it. You didn’t save a single one of your own people. You let them die just the same. You turned your entire village against you.”

  She tightened her eyebrows and smiled a bit madly. “And I thought of what a little-dicked man you were, just as he came inside me with that monster of manhood. What do you make of that? He got me pregnant, lover. He’s going to have your baby.”

  William had heard enough and didn’t take one extra second before punching her in the face, sending Nessie hurling to the ground. He stood tall after the punch, watching her struggle to get up and folding his arms, quite proud of his dominance.

  “Good…I just wanted you to know why exactly I felt inclined to do this.”

  Nessie reached into her a folded patch of clothing where she hid the knife Artair gave to her for protection. She lunged the knife into William’s throat, causing him to gurgle out an announcement of shock and spite…but it wasn’t enough to taint the wonderful site of him up and dying. A painful, noisy and very messy death, just as he deserved.

  Artair was busy tracking down the remaining men, who were scarcely seen at dusk. Alert too many of them and cause a full scale riot. Alert too few of them and have hours of boring, pointless slaying to do. In actuality, he only thought one of them had to die. The leader, the great influencer who seduced all these stupid young fools into joining a pseudo-family just for a sense of belonging.

  Finally, he spotted Emery from a short distance, exiting a house and pulling his pants up. Artair eyed the lax man in contempt, although he noticed in the corner of his vision that Nessie and her child friend were escaping the home and running freely into the forest. He smiled, relieved that they got to safety and they could all go home.

  But his blood was still boiling. The immortal in him still lived with fury, and the thirst for blood had overtaken him once again. The other highlander was near, somewhere, and the craving for battle, for the Game, called to him.

  No sense in wasting such adrenaline on peaceful resolution or avoidance. After all, he made a bond with Emery which he broke. He walked over to the house Emery exited and waited, stalking his victim slowly and with hardly a sound.

  When Emery finally came out, he lay low, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

  “You killed the children, didn’t you? Even when I told you not to. You broke an agreement.”

  Emery laughed in derision. “Is that who I think it is? Oh what a brave thing for a deserter to say.” Emery raised his voice in a call to action for his marauder band.

  “Attention! A deserter has come baaaa-!”

  In just one swipe, Artair returned his extended sword back to his shoulder, decapitating the head of Emery. No surprise, he figured as he grabbed the head in midair and let him finish his statement.

  “And what do we do…with…” the head barely mumbled as the gore leaked out beneath, finally ending all receptor communication to the brain.

  He held the enemy’s head up eye to eye and chuckled. “Of course the other highlander wasn’t you, lad. You’re barely a scratch on my sword. A silly sprint of energy that’s distracting me from the battle of my life. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy killing you.”

  Artair walked to the middle of the ex-village site, looking on at the rubble and desolation. He could tell some of the marauders had already left the scene, probably bored or annoyed at Emery’s leadership.

  To the few that remained he had a special message, loudly delivered in the village center. “Just fair warning…this is Artair from a few days ago. I know you’ve done terrible things. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sneak out of here while you can. Quietly. So that I don’t accidentally run into you. Because if I do find you, I’m going to kill you just like this fellow.”

  Emery’s head on a spear emphasized the message well enough, and within hours, surely, the remaining group of invaders had disbanded in fear and scattered into the farthest parts of the wilderness. Artair had to conserve his strength for the battle ahead and so was relieved that he didn’t have to kill many more. One or two, definitely, and that was also a bit of fun.

  However, as the night progressed he started to think back to Nessie and what became of her, the child and the old arse of a husband. He looked around for her among the ruins but saw nothing. He wondered if she ran away to the forest, never to return again, finally finding a smidgeon of freedom. If so, good luck to her, was all he could say. The woman was beautiful. Kind. A pure heart just as his late wife had been.

  Then, as he entered the cottage, the same place where he first saved the woman’s life he saw a familiar face.

  “Nessie?” he said with a smile, seeing Nessie waiting for him on the bed. “You came back?”

  “I had to make sure the child would be safe. I gave him my word. I told him to wait for us at the Silver River passed the forest. Survivors are heading over there now. There are greater strengths in numbers, even if they are injured.”

  “Us, you say?”

  “Well yes, I am a widow now, Artair. By choice. So maybe we have something in common for once?”

  “Oh, I see,” he said with a grin. “You fancy me then?”

  “A bit. And I reckon we have only a few more minutes of alone time before departing on the next adventure, Mister Artair. Rebuilding our village. And I know you’re not so rude as to walk away without lending a hand. So then…we best get the second tussle out of the way.”
>
  Artair knew time was of the essence but another hard and angry warrior fuck before battle was just the highlander way. He took her on the bed, tearing her clothes off again and removing his own. He didn’t start again, so as much as he finished what he started. This time rejuvenated by the death of her abusive husband and happy from the thrill of murdering mortal bastards who did terrible things to innocent people.

  It was all very barbaric and the sex was comparable, with Artair hammering his new lover on the bed, plunging himself so deep they shook the frame and most of the house. His second erection was stronger, beyond mortal, she even thought as she let him lift her legs up and rest them on his shoulders. His cock thunderbolted her pussy at a tighter and more angled direction than before, hitting her right at the most sensitive spongy area inside.

  She felt the pangs of orgasm building again, only this time higher and more full-bodied than before. She groaned loudly as he stuffed his cock deeper inside and pounded her internally. Just as she started to cream his cock with a flood of her intimacy, he felt her pussy walls contracting and tightening. As her pussy writhed in and out, so too did her body quiver in sweaty, uninhibited release.

  “Aaaahhh!” she cried, wetting his cock down while being fucked so hard her torso and head leaned off the bed. “Fuck me like you mean it!”

  He grunted and thrusted with all his might, firing shots of precummy rigid length inside of her. She imploded and convulsed, coming with all that was left in her frail body, and tensing her every muscle in a wet and messy finish. She began slapping his chest and arms in orgasmic frenzy, barely able to survive the biggest quake of her life, until she finally collapsed halfway off the bed.

  But Artair was still rock hard and eager to come again. He scooped her up off the floor as easy as a weapon, and ran her into the wall, his cock still pumping away inside, soaking up her cream. Finally, he unloaded another sperm explosion inside, coming hard and strong, and groaning at the top of his ecstatic voice.

  She waited in panting, wet and dizzy awe. This wasn’t just barbarian sex, this was truly something out of this earth. He shook her entire consciousness with that last ejaculation and perhaps gave something away about himself, far more than he should have.

  He nodded, as admitting with his body that he wasn’t at all what he seemed.

  But we’ll talk about that another day, he thought. For now, the idea of taking things easy, helping people rebuild and protecting mortals was appealing for a change. There would always be reengage highlanders to kill. There would always be murderers to stop and victims to avenge. But sometimes, even a warrior had to take a break and smell the roses of victory.

  THE END

  The Captive Bride

  Chapter One

  Elise fanned herself ineffectively as the carriage bounced her down the road towards the small village. The horses seemed to be finding every dip and rock in the path and she clutched the window opening to prevent herself from landing on the floor.

  The heat and humidity outside were only mildly relieved by the breeze of their movement. The baskets on the floor scratched the tops of her feet as they jostled around in the bumps.

  It was her weekly trip into town for supplies and she both hated and loved the outing. She loved getting out of the estate and watching the landscape roll past her open window; she loved browsing in the shops for food and sewing patterns and whatever else struck her fancy; she loved stopping in the small inn for a lunch before heading back home. She hated coming back home. The freedom she knew in town, limited as it was with her escort, made returning to the estate that much more painful.

  Henry was a cloud that she could never escape. Even as she fingered the silky new dress in the shop, she knew she would catch the angry end of his belt for spending that kind of money. He wanted her to help him entertain at the house but she knew the other wives were gossiping behind her back about the fact that she only had two nice dresses in which to hostess such parties.

  They did have servants for the actual serving, but her place was to giggle at the terrible and tasteless jokes and smile sweetly as drunken Henry stumbled around the dining hall and eventually had his way with her in her bedroom.

  She did appreciate having her own room and spent many a quiet evening by herself, with her needlework or her handful of books.

  The carriage finally arrived in town and her driver/guard helped her down. The cobblestones tugged at the stiff petticoats of her traveling attire and she gathered them delicately in one hand, making sure not to pull them too high for fear of showing her slim ankles to the entire world. The older man who traveled with her followed behind her carrying the baskets that she intended to fill for the week.

  “Shall we stop at the grocer’s first?” she tried to make conversation.

  “Aye, madam, whatever you desire.”

  She sighed heavily, and wished she were allowed to travel with her cook or her maiden. Either of them would have been preferable company, and could be considered her only friends. With either one of the two women, she could have made quite a fun day out of the trip to the markets.

  She swung the door open into the grocer and tried to keep her skirts from bumping anything on the lower shelves. She selected a nice variety of foodstuffs such as fresh tea leaves, a small bag of sugar, and a bag each of flour and rice. In the sundries section she picked up two more sewing needles and three new packets of thread so that she could start her new cross stich piece.

  The market next door was open-air, and offered quite a selection of fresh items from the nearby farms. Henry’s estate included a sizeable chicken coop so she had no need for eggs, and the vegetable garden was plentiful this time of year so she did not browse those areas. She did select some fresh cheese and butter from one of the dairy farmers and the driver paid as she wandered to the next stall: the butcher.

  Fresh meat was an expensive commodity and Henry loved showing off his wealth at his parties, but she had to be careful with that spending as well. Henry was planning a party for the next night, and she had to walk a careful line between frugally spending his hard-earned money and making sure they provided a spread that displayed their wealth and lifestyle.

  After she selected a decent sized ham as well as some smoked bacon, she instructed the driver to purchase two bottles of whiskey. It was unseemly for her to purchase them directly, but her evening would be bitter and painful if she forgot that purchase.

  Before making the long ride back to the estate, the driver and Elise enjoyed a moment of quiet while they lunched. It was a simple lunch of beef stew and homemade brown bread but it tasted good and would tide them both over until dinner.

  Most of the food they purchased that day would be saved for the party the next night, and she had tried to purchase just a little extra so that they would have enough for the entire week.

  It was a pleasant outing, and while her driver/escort was not big on conversation, Elise was relatively comfortable with him and did trust that if she spent an extra penny on a piece of candy, he would not report it to Henry.

  After lunch, they tucked all the baskets into the carriage and Elise settled down in her seat as the driver closed the door. She leaned back and tried to nap but was not hopeful with the way the carriage bounced around. She must have dozed off because before she knew it, the cook was shaking her knee and trying to get to the baskets that sat under her skirts.

  Chapter Two

  The next day was a whirlwind of preparation for yet another dining hall event. Henry loved to host such parties and show off how much food and drink he could provide. He usually invited the other estate owners in the area, and they brought their wives or mistresses. It was not uncommon for the men to bring these much younger ladies to the events just to show them off. Elise did say a small prayer of thanks that while she may not always enjoy the feasts, she at least was spared the humiliation of being banished for the mistress. She was almost certain that Henry had at least two but she just ignored that fact and was grateful that it
was at least two nights per week that she did not have to entertain him in her bedroom.

  The cook bustled around the kitchen like a madwoman as she prepared everything. Henry was off in town to fetch more alcohol for the party, so Elise was free most of the day. She finished the buttered bread and tea that made up her breakfast, and tried to help the cook in the kitchen. She was decently handy with a knife and set about.

  “I just don’t know why we have to waste all this good food on people who can afford their own,” she mentioned to Abigail.

  Abigail nodded, “I know what you mean, madam.”

  Elise smiled back, “Perhaps you should fix two small plates for you and your husband.”

  Abigail was married to the older man who had accompanied Elise to town the previous day.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful, madam, thank you!”

  “Just make sure to fix me one too, for lunch, and hide yours away just in case.”

  Abigail nodded and made small sandwiches for her and Thomas. She wrapped them in a plain cloth with a large red apple, and tucked them away in the pockets of her cloak for later. The two of them would not be having dinner any time soon because they had to help serve at the gathering. But having a nice lunch would help get them through.

  Elise often tried to pass a little extra food their direction. She knew that Henry did not mistreat his servants per se, but he did not pay them much either. And in the grand scheme of things, as long as Henry did not blatantly see the food walk away, he really would not notice the difference.