The Highlander’s Defiant Captive: The Lairds Most Likely Book 4

by Anna Campbell

  He reminded himself that while Mhairi mightn't have declared her love, she had come a good many hard miles in his direction from the spitting wildcat he'd snatched in the meadow above Bruard. God’s teeth, she'd agreed to wed him, hadn't she? At the very moment when he at last gave her leave to return to her father. That spoke volumes about how she'd changed. And since declaring herself ready to become his bride, she'd kissed him over and over, as if she couldn't get enough of the taste of him.

  She mightn't love him, but she wanted him and she liked him. He knew her well enough to understand that she gave him her loyalty for life, even before they spoke their wedding vows. What she gave him would have to be enough, although he was so desperate for her to love him back, he was ready to go on his knees and beg.

  But if he'd learned anything about Bonny Mhairi Drummond, now Mackinnon, it was that she came to things in her own time. Against all the odds, he’d won the bride of his heart. For now, he must be satisfied with that.

  Speaking of satisfaction, his wedding night stretched ahead. What did words matter, when his beloved promised herself to him body and soul?

  "I swear I'll do my best to make ye happy," he said solemnly, hoping the Good Lord allowed him time and room to fulfill his vow. Sheena's death had lent a grim touch to these past three days, but so had the prospect of the Drummond sending an army to besiege Achnasheen.

  But neither of those things could mar the joy he took in the woman he'd married. Neither of those things impinged on the bond they forged together. A bond that the years ahead, if granted to him, would only strengthen. Mhairi mightn't yet love him, but from today, they were eternally united.

  At last another smile curved those soft pink lips. "It would make me happy if ye werenae a whole room away from me."

  Startled, he straightened from where he slouched against the door. "I dinnae want to make ye nervous, mo chridhe."

  The smile widened, and she pushed aside the covers to reveal her hips and legs and sweet, slender bare feet. He swallowed to moisten a parched throat and wondered at the state this lassie put him in, that the sight of her feet was enough to stir up a lather of excitement.

  "I'm no’ nervous."

  He dragged his gaze away from how those slender feet joined up with those neat ankles. The silk shift was sheer enough to hint at the shape of shins and knees and thighs. And the shadowy mysteries at the junction of her thighs. If he looked too long there, he didn't trust himself not to jump on her like a wild beast.

  "No?"

  Her smile broadened. "No." Then she paused. "Or only a little. I havenae done this before. But I trust ye to do it right."

  When she said things like that, it reminded him that while she mightn't love him, she gave him plenty else. A sensible man would consider it was enough. The problem was it turned out he wasn't quite as sensible as he’d always imagined.

  He ventured a step closer. "I pray I prove worthy of that trust."

  "Ye will." She paused. "Ye do."

  When her smile turned incandescent, his heart crashed against his ribs. Dear God, he loved her. She’d never been so beautiful as now, when she stretched her hand out in his direction.

  "Come here, Callum. Ye went to a devil of a lot of trouble to get me into this bed. Is it no’ time ye enjoyed the fruits of your victory?"

  His wayward heart performed another giddy flip, and he took a further step toward her. “Mhairi…”

  Casting him a wide-eyed look, she gave a soft laugh. "For the love of heaven, I swear you're more nervous than I am."

  Ridiculously he felt a flush rise in his cheeks. He ran his hand over his hair, brushing its slippery weight back from his face. "Och, lassie, of course I'm nervous."

  She sent him a mocking glance. "And ye the laddie all the lassies in this glen want to catch."

  To his displeasure, his blush heated. "You've been listening to too much gossip."

  "I ken that when I wed ye, it was to the sound of dozens of hearts breaking."

  "Your heart is the only one I'm interested in," he said curtly.

  The smile broadened, became smug. "I know."

  "You're a virgin, Mhairi. I dinnae want to hurt ye, and I fear I will. I'm no’ a small man."

  When her eyes focused on the front of his kilt, he hardened – and experienced a blast of relief. It seemed she knew enough to understand what a man did with a maid.

  "Jean said it might hurt. At first. But she said it gets better."

  "Och, did she indeed?"

  Mhairi made a helpless gesture. "My mother died bringing me into the world, and this isnae something my father would ever talk to me about."

  "Your nurse didnae tell ye?"

  "Flossie has served me since I was twelve. She was only fourteen herself then. She’s as much a virgin as I am."

  "Not if Duff gets his way. He means to wed her."

  "I think she means to wed him, too."

  "I'm glad ye have a friend and a kinswoman in the castle."

  "So am I." She paused. "But I hope ye and I can be friends as well as lovers."

  "I'd like that." He studied her. She'd claimed not to be afraid, but she looked more relaxed now than she had when he’d thrown out the drunken louts. "It's the lovers part I'm interested in right now."

  "Well, you'll need to touch me if that's true," she said with a hint of asperity.

  He felt easy enough now to laugh. "Once I touch ye, there is nae going back, my bonny."

  She flung up her hands in frustration and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "For pity's sake, Mackinnon, I dinnae want to go back. I want to be right where I am. Even more than that, I want ye to kiss me. Stop hovering over there like a cat that doesn't know whether it wants to come inside or stay out in the cold. Take me in your arms and ravish me like any kidnapper worth his salt. I want to play a bride's part and discover just what the famous Laird of Achnasheen hides under his kilt."

  "Mhairi," he said, not sure if the word was an invitation or a protest.

  "Aye, Mhairi is my name. And Mackinnon now, not Drummond." She stood and crossed the space separating them until she stood less than a foot away.

  The firelight teased him with a tantalizing view of the body beneath the sheer nightdress. She was a creature of legend, all sinuous curves and enchantment. The glorious red hair flowed around her shoulders, making his hands clench at his sides as he imagined those shining tresses twining around him as he thrust inside her.

  Her lips quirked with affectionate impatience. "For heaven’s sake, Callum, make me a Mackinnon in fact as well as name. Dinnae make me wait any longer. I want ye. Ye want me. Let's allow nature to take its course."

  He wasn't sure whether he moved or she did, but within an instant, Bonny Mhairi was wrapped in his arms. His hands fisted in the slippery silk that covered her graceful body, and he tilted her to the side until the wealth of hair cascaded over his arm.

  She released a gasp that sounded like pure excitement as she lost her balance and her hands flew up to grab his shoulders. Heat blasting the last of his hesitation to ashes, he bent over her and pressed his eager mouth to hers.

  Chapter 23

  Mhairi soared away from the everyday into a world of flaring color. During their short betrothal, Callum had often kissed her, luring her into secret corners of the castle away from curious eyes. Secret corners from which she'd emerged flushed and trembling and frustrated.

  She'd never wanted a man before. She was astonished by how quickly even the most passionate kisses failed to satisfy her wanton yearnings. Kisses that at first had seemed the height of daring.

  Tonight, though, perhaps because at last she would learn how it felt to lie with a man, the kisses burned hotter. A powerful pulse set up between her legs and shook her whole body. She kissed him back as if she starved.

  Three days of Callum’s attentions had taught her much about kissing. She eagerly sucked his tongue into her mouth and nipped at his lips to encourage him to keep going. She pursued him into his mouth, re
lishing his rich salty flavor.

  "You've been drinking whisky," she muttered, running her teeth down the strong neck once covered by his stock and now vulnerable to her depredations.

  "Aye, lassie," he groaned, swinging her up in his arms and carrying her across to the bed. "The lads kept filling my cup downstairs. Are you afraid I willnae do my best by ye?"

  Mhairi curled into his body. "No’ in the least."

  He kissed her before he set her gently on the bed, coming down over her, so his long black silky hair fell around her like an ebony veil. She reached up and grabbed a handful, using it as a rope to bring him down for more kisses. When he broke away, they were both panting.

  "Does your arm hurt, lass?" he asked roughly, leaning on one elbow and surveying her with a tender fervor that made her toes curl against the crisp white sheets.

  "No." To prove it, she raised her injured arm so she could stroke that stubborn jaw. He'd escaped his kinsmen long enough to shave before he came to her, she noted.

  Callum caught her hand and bent to kiss the scar with a care that made her tremble. "That’s good news."

  She rose to lean over him. When she noticed how his gaze fixed on her drooping bodice, she laughed. "I'll show ye properly if you like."

  "Aye, lass." His eyes met hers, blazing with hunger. "Ye know you put me in a fever."

  "I hope so."

  He sat up to face her. "Let me see ye."

  Her trembling intensified as he caught the silk and drew it over her head, flinging it to the floor. Shyness at knowing she was naked before him made her eyes flutter down from his. She fought the urge to raise her hands to conceal herself.

  "Mhairi…" he said on an awed sigh, and she made herself meet his stare. He looked transfixed. "I dinnae deserve ye, lass."

  "Do I please ye?" The light in his eyes already told her she did.

  "More than I can say. You're a jewel beyond price. You're exquisite."

  She'd learned to mistrust male susceptibility to the way she looked. Beauty was dangerous. But as she stared into Callum's face and saw what pleasure he took in her, she gloried in his desire.

  "I'm glad."

  "Let me touch ye," he whispered. "Only the greatest bard could describe what I feel now and do the moment justice, do ye justice. But let me show ye what honor I pay you."

  That throbbing between her legs became more powerful, and her skin tightened in carnal anticipation. "Ye could have touched me before tonight."

  The humor she'd always found attractive, even in their first stormy interactions, set creases around his brown eyes. "Och, I didnae trust myself to put my hands on ye and keep my head."

  "Aye, it was a verra chaste courtship." Even in her innocence, she'd recognized that.

  Since she’d agreed to become his wife, he'd turned the tower bedroom over to her and slept in the west tower, making a public statement that he respected his bride's virginity until they were wed.

  His amusement deepened. "Ye sound like you mind."

  With every moment, her nakedness bothered her less. "You're not the only one who yearns, Mackinnon."

  "You’re calling me Mackinnon again?" He gave a dramatic sigh. "Would Mackinnon dare to touch his lady's perfect bosom?"

  Mhairi’s lips firmed as she fought the urge to laugh. "Callum certainly can." She paused. "Especially if he takes off his shirt first."

  He didn't hesitate. Within seconds, his loose white shirt joined her nightdress on the carpet. "You're magnificent," she said in awe.

  "You've seen me without a shirt before."

  "Aye," she said, the word redolent of appreciation.

  She reached out to rub her hand over the hard chest with its light covering of silky black hair. The friction under her palms made her nipples tighten to the edge of pain.

  Scars marked his body. Courtesy of her kinsmen, she guessed, but right now, she didn't want to think about him fighting the Drummonds.

  She ran her lips along one curving white line that slashed across his ribs. He groaned and tangled his hands in her hair, loosely so she was free to taste him wherever she wanted. She kissed each of his scars. Last of all, she pressed her lips to the scar on his arm, the one she'd given him.

  "I'm sorry I hurt ye," she murmured.

  "Och, lassie, I'm no’," he said softly. "I wear that scar proudly. Ye marked my body just as ye marked my heart. You've branded me as yours forever."

  Whenever he said such breathtaking things, her heart did giddy cartwheels. "Aye, you're mine." She nipped his skin to remind him.

  He gave a short, startled laugh and pushed her down onto her back. "And you’re mine."

  "Matching scars." She touched the raised red line on his arm. "There's proof we belong together."

  "Och, we dinnae need scars to prove that."

  At last he put his hands on her breasts. Heat burgeoned inside her as he squeezed and stroked her. When he gently pinched her nipples until they beaded into points, the jolt of sensation made her cry out and arch up toward him.

  "Callum…"

  It was her turn to lie trembling beneath his hands and mouth. Another jagged stab of sensation jolted her when he took one nipple between his lips, touching it with his tongue then drawing hard. The secret hollows of her body turned hot and liquid. He set her alight until she writhed against him and dug her fingers deep into his shoulders.

  Restless eagerness kept her shaking and moaning as he began to discover each curve and dip that formed her body. Every brush of his mouth, every caress of his hands, built her craving until she was half mad with wanting him.

  He kissed a burning path across the pale curve of her stomach where the long graze was nearly healed. Then shockingly, he shifted to lie between her legs. That seeking mouth brushed the feathery hair covering her mound.

  "Callum!" Mhairi cried again, torn between embarrassment and pleasure. She definitely remembered she was naked now. Her hands fluttered downward but stopped short of pushing him away. "That's…"

  "Wonderful," he murmured, catching her hips between hard, powerful hands and angling her up toward his face.

  At the first flickering touch of his tongue to her cleft, she cried out in protest and dug her hands in his thick black hair. Jean had warned her that some of the things that a man did to a woman would strike her as strange. Her imagination had never stretched as far as him licking her between the legs.

  She wasn’t disgusted. She was…intrigued. Then she was trembling with a rising delight as pure as a beam of sunlight.

  After a dazzling interval, he concentrated on one particular place until lightning sizzled through her and stole the last of her objections. As shuddering sensation built upon shuddering sensation, the tension flowed out of her body and her legs flopped open, inviting him to do whatever he wanted to her.

  Apparently what he wanted to do was torture her with pleasure until she was lost to every reality except his hot mouth on her slick cleft. Her muscles clenched in a sensual dance as she strove toward some unknown end.

  The sound of his tongue lapping at her was disturbing and arousing in equal measure. An uncontrollable rush of moisture greeted his explorations, and she shifted under his mouth. But she couldn't quite gather the will to move away.

  By the time Callum rose to kneel away from her, she was breathing in great gusty sobs and her heart was thundering. He’d shown her a world of sensation reaching beyond anything her virginal dreams had ever dared to encompass.

  Mhairi was so dazed that it took her a minute to realize that his shaking hands now tugged at the silver buckle fastening his kilt. The belt fell to the floor, and the red and black plaid soon followed.

  The mist of sensuality evaporated in a flash. Her eyes focused on the daunting column of hard flesh rising against his belly.

  "Oh, my dear Lord above," she whispered. "Will that fit?"

  "Aye, mo chridhe." He laughed softly and slid over her. "Trust me."

  "If you're sure," she said doubtfully.

  She'd won
dered what was beneath his kilt. Now she knew, and that knowledge revived all her earlier nervousness.

  "I'm sure, ye daft wee lassie."

  "You'd better kiss me again," she said unsteadily. "I cannae think about anything else when ye kiss me."

  "That’s what a man likes to hear." His voice was husky.

  When his mouth sought hers in a desperate kiss, it took her a few seconds to realize that he no longer tasted of whisky. He tasted salty. He tasted of her. At some deep level, this idea thrilled her, and she kissed him back with all her newly aroused passion.

  Callum went back to stroking her between the legs, his fingers sliding smoothly in the satiny heat. She trembled with longing under his sensual attentions. Then she felt a new pressure.

  She tensed against the unfamiliar invasion. "Is this ye?"

  "It's my finger. I'm trying to ease my way so I dinnae hurt ye." He kissed her again, and lost in the magic his lips made on hers, she relaxed enough to receive him.

  "It feels odd," she said in a tight voice.

  "Dinnae resist," he crooned, kissing the side of her neck in a place that always created cascades of thrills.

  Mhairi sucked in another breath, and her body accepted his incursion more naturally. It was almost…enjoyable. Then he touched a hidden place inside her and pleasure sparked. Soon his finger was moving in and out of her. When Callum shifted to the side, she rose on her elbows to see what he was doing.

  There was something primally exciting about watching him put part of himself inside her body. The insistent rhythm made her blood pound hot and heavy. She lay back against the pillows and gave him his will.

  A stretching sensation told her he'd changed from one finger to two. This time, her untried body accepted him more easily. Soon she tilted her hips to encourage his powerful caresses.

  Through her haze of joy, she hardly noticed when he caught her hips and lifted her toward him. This time the pressure was heavier and larger.

  And uncomfortable, despite all his care in preparing her.

  She opened her eyes to see him poised above her, his torrent of dark hair tumbling over his cheeks. "That's ye," she whispered.